Some friends of mine and I recently watched a DVD of a production of the opera, "Dialogues of the Carmelites" (1957) by Francis Poulenc based on the Martyrs of Compiègne. It's somewhat modernist, being almost completely in recitative with occasional ensembles. Unfortunately, the DVD forewent subtitles since the production used the English libretto, but can anyone ever understand a soprano in any language? I understand the libretto is deep and thoughtful ("Dialogues..."), so I'm sorry we missed out on that. Still, it ends with a most heartbreaking scene. I could not stop thinking about it, so I looked up a few different productions of that scene on YouTube and decided I liked this one. Watch it once and tell me it doesn't move you. Yes, that is the sound of a guillotine that repeats 16 times for these 16 nuns. Listen to the texture of the music thin down from chorus to quartet, trio, duet, solo. It's tragic!
And then I realized it works as an allegory for our sad lives as PhD students. Read on for my translation. And excuse the sacrilege. It's just satire.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Quicklink 3
This is somewhat old news now. Anthony Tommasini, classical music critic for the NYT, started the year posing the question, "Who are the 10 greatest composers in history?" The subsequent articles and videos are thoughtful and present something of a quick tour through music history. The rest of the articles are listed here in reverse chronological order. The final list is announced here. It's just for fun.
Here's a story that demonstrates why one must be thoughtful if one is to command an international audience without inadvertently insulting people.
Here's a story that demonstrates why one must be thoughtful if one is to command an international audience without inadvertently insulting people.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Virtuosity
A belated post....
Today, I will explore the notion of virtuosity and what it means to me. Let's start with the Oxford Dictionary Online's (ODO) definition of a virtuoso: "a person highly skilled in music or another artistic pursuit." Seems simple enough, but when talking about new words or ideas, I find it instructive to consider the edges. No one would argue against applying the appellation to Yehudi Menuhin, Arthur Rubinstein, or Jacqueline du Pré, so heaping more praise on them does little to clarify anything. But what about soloists less celebrated? Do they deserve the designation? Is skill all that matters or does depth of expression make a difference? What about dancers, authors, or painters? Why are we more likely to proclaim a poet a genius than a virtuoso?
Today, I will explore the notion of virtuosity and what it means to me. Let's start with the Oxford Dictionary Online's (ODO) definition of a virtuoso: "a person highly skilled in music or another artistic pursuit." Seems simple enough, but when talking about new words or ideas, I find it instructive to consider the edges. No one would argue against applying the appellation to Yehudi Menuhin, Arthur Rubinstein, or Jacqueline du Pré, so heaping more praise on them does little to clarify anything. But what about soloists less celebrated? Do they deserve the designation? Is skill all that matters or does depth of expression make a difference? What about dancers, authors, or painters? Why are we more likely to proclaim a poet a genius than a virtuoso?
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