Welcome to the next exciting installment of "A Guide to Attending the Symphony or Opera!" The first part, which can be found here, covered the basic guidelines one should follow when attending one of these events. This part will go over the musical forms one is likely to hear when attending a symphonic performance. Believe it or not, when you go to the symphony you aren't necessarily going to hear a symphony! But if your knowledge of classical music is minimal, there is no need to worry about this. I'll walk you through the five most common musical forms performed by today's symphony orchestras.
1. The Symphony - This is the obvious one. Wikipedia defines a symphony as "an extended musical composition in Western classical music, scored almost always for orchestra." Most symphonies are in multiple movements, or parts, with four movements being the "standard" organization. Typically, there are thematic elements that run through the entire symphony. These musical themes can be very apparent or they can be subtle and picked up only after repeated listenings. This is why, as I recommend in Part I, it is valuable to listen to a recording of the piece you're going to hear. It is truly exhilarating when you first pick up on a theme in a piece of music. You then begin to hear the piece as a whole, how each element relates to all the others, rather than as a series of nice-sounding notes. As also mentioned in Part I, do not applaud until the entire symphony is over. There will usually be breaks between each movement so if you are unsure, wait for the majority of the audience to clap, not just a few scattered clappers. A warning: some symphonies will try to trick you. There can be more (or fewer) than four movements, one movement can lead to the next attacca (meaning without pause; see the last two movements of Beethoven's 5th Symphony) or the movements may be atypically arranged. Tchaikovsky's 6th Symphony is a superb example. It has a rousing third movement which leads many to believe it is the finale. However, there is a fourth movement, a beautiful and mournful adagio. If there is raucous applause after the third movement, the solemnity of the fourth movement can be affected.
2. The Concerto - Symphonies and concertos are the most common musical forms you will encounter when going to see a live performance. Wikipedia defines a concerto as "a musical work usually composed in three parts or movements, in which (usually) one solo instrument (for instance, a piano, violin, cello or flute) is accompanied by an orchestra." So, very simply, it is like a symphony but with a soloist playing a virtuoso part along with the orchestra. As mentioned it is usually in three movements, typically arranged fast-slow-fast. The solo instrument can be anything but you will most commonly encounters violin concertos, cello concertos and piano concertos because they are the most popular. One of my favorite concertos is actually a guitar concerto by Joaquin Rodrigo called "Concierto de Aranjuez." The second movement, the adagio, is often heard in movies, TV shows and commercials. Miles Davis brilliantly interpreted the movement for trumpet on his Sketches of Spain album.
3. Choral Music - Sometimes a symphony orchestra will pair with a choral group to present choral music which can be a nice change of pace. Some choral works include soloists singing certain parts of the work. Choral music forms some of the most beautiful and uplifting music in the Western canon, particularly the cantatas by Bach. And, of course, one of the most spectacular choral works is Mozart's Requiem. It is even more moving when one considers that it is the last piece of music he ever worked on. Beethoven's 9th Symphony is both a symphony and a choral work, with the chorus entering during the last movement to sing Schiller's inspiring words.
4. Chamber Music - It is not too common for a symphony orchestra to perform chamber music and there is a very good reason for this. Chamber music gets it's name from the fact that these works were meant to be played in a chamber, or room, of a house. So, what is chamber music? Most pieces of chamber music are called trios, quartets, quintets, septets, octets, etc. It depends on how many instruments are used to play the piece with the configurations of instruments varying wildly. However, the most common form of chamber music you will hear is the string quartet, consisting of two violins, a viola and a cello. As mentioned, symphony orchestras do not often put on programs of chamber music but in any large city there will be groups of chamber musicians or organizations that put on performances. Again, most chamber music is in several movements (four movements are typical for string quartets). This is also a nice change of pace from orchestral music because one gets to hear each player individually as well as in combination with only a few other instruments. The harmonies that can be produced by a string quartet border on the divine. Also, if you want to prepare a quiet, romantic dinner at home, chamber music is an ideal choice for the stereo.
5. Lieder or Songs - This is another rare treat, especially if you like vocal music. A song can be sung by one or more soloists and can be accompanied by just a solo piano or a full orchestra. Often, songs will be arranged in cycles by a composer, with each song telling part of a larger story or following a common theme. Some famous song cycles include Schubert's Die schöne Müllerin (The Lovely Miller Maid) and Mahler's moving Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children). If a symphony orchestra performs a program that includes songs, it will often only be part of the program, say the first half, with the second half devoted to orchestral music.
I hope this post has encouraged you to get out and support your local symphony! I am by far an expert on classical music, I am merely an enthusiast. However, if there are any questions you may have feel free to ask them in the comments section. I also welcome corrections to anything I have written here. Part III, coming at some undisclosed future date, will focus exclusively on opera.
See Also:
A Guide to Attending the Symphony or Opera, Part I
Showing posts with label classical music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classical music. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
A Writer's Responsibility
Two blog posts ago (in the post entitled Reflections on Writing and "Buy Indie Month") I mentioned that writers are inherently selfish. Some who read the post took minor issue with this statement. I, of course, did not mean that only writers are selfish and that compared to us the balance of the world's population is dripping with the milk of human kindness. No, not at all. I consider myself to be a rather generous person, actually, as long as I don't inconvenience myself in the process. And every human being who ever walked the Earth has been selfish in one way or another. Anything we do for our own sake is selfish. Whenever we spend time pursuing things that bring us pleasure rather than working to end hunger or prejudice, for example, is selfish.
But this did set me thinking more about an issue I touched on in that post. I wrote that those with a voice to which the masses listen, those who are able to reach a great many people, should ask themselves what their voices are contributing to society. In a writer's selfish pursuit of writing--whatever his reasons for writing may be--shouldn't he endeavor to ensure that his writing results in a net positive to society?
I believe that art is anything that is done for the sake of art. There may be additional motives (such as fame or fortune) and there is, of course, a vast difference between "good art" and "bad art" but I have found that works which are broadly defined as "good art" or "great art" possess a few common features.
1. It is done for the art first. Of course, many of the greatest artists and composers had wealthy patrons but were they artists because they believed it would make them some scratch? I'm sure more than one skilled artist hoped to become the darling of a particular court or city but if the driving force was the art itself, then I believe by its very nature it will be superior to art which is done for other reasons. Commercial art, for example, is produced to sell products. The work of Thomas Kinkade, I am certain, is driven chiefly by profit. There is nothing wrong with making your art commercially viable, of course, but to create truly great art the impetus must be the art itself.
2. Good art is attractive. Note that I do not say "beautiful" but "attractive." This means that good art must attract the attention of an audience. To do this it can be exceedingly beautiful, of course, or it can be exceedingly ugly and disturbing, it can be terrifying or saddening. But without the attention of an audience, it will fail, no matter what its other merits may be.
3. Good art is meaningful. For me, this is the high bar. I enjoy a pretty picture or a catchy song as much as the next person but if there is no meaning I will quickly lose interest. If there is no meaning, I will not remember it much beyond my initial viewing/reading/listening. In music, this has led to a personal shift from the rock and pop music of my younger years to classical and jazz. I still like rock and pop and listen to it on occasion but classical music is what you will almost always find on my stereo. As an aside, I will point out that there is meaningless classical music as well. For the same reason, this music doesn't stay with me for long.
4. Good art has staying power. A work of art may take the nation by storm for a summer--think of films or pop songs or mass market thrillers--but who will remember it a year from now? A generation from now? In two hundred years the works of Mozart, Beethoven, Mahler, will still be performed. Adele? Probably not. MC Hammer? Certainly not. Often a lack of staying power is the result of a lack of meaning, but not always. Sometimes it is simply not attractive enough. Dadaism was certainly attractive when it came about and it certainly had meaning--although some would argue that point--but the problem was that it created a spectacle for a few short years and, aside from freshmen studying Art History 101, no one gives it any thought these days. It was too rooted in its time and place. Great art has to transcend those boundaries and be as meaningful for a person a hundred years from now and a continent away as it is for those who were around when it was created.
Now, I'm sure that many will be able to object to and pick apart my criteria for great art. But I would emphasize that these are my criteria. Others are welcome to disagree; in fact, I would love to know (in the comments section below) what you all think makes for great art.
As is often the case when I write, Point A has to be informed by Point B before I can continue. So, now that you have my Point B (the makings of great art) I can return to Point A (a writer's responsibility).
So, my main query is this: does a writer have a responsibility to attempt to create great art? I answer with a resounding maybe. As I've mentioned elsewhere there is a place for everything. People need catchy tunes to dance to in nightclubs just as I need a composer like Marjan Mozetich to carry me away on the wings of bliss. But you can only bump and grind for so long. Eventually, a person needs to feed his mind and his soul with something of substance, something that will expand one's consciousness. And it pains me to think that so many people in this world go through their lives and have very few of those types of experiences. With all the beauty and wonder in this world, it is saddening that so much of it is ignored by the majority of humanity.
Again, I am sure that some will argue that a teen-aged girl can find as much meaning in a Justin Bieber song as I do in Beethoven's 9th Symphony, as much profound realization in Twilight as I do in 2001: A Space Odyssey. I also suppose that some will say I am a cultural snob. Perhaps I am. But pop culture can only go so far toward feeding the artistic desires of a society. At some point, we must move past the banal and realize that these things which seem so important, so profound today, will be fading memories come tomorrow and beyond.
So, does a writer have a responsibility to create works that will transcend this time and this place, works which will be read a hundred years from now? The "maybe" I gave in response still holds. Some of us do. Some of us will. Others will write good, enjoyable books that will fill a particular need in a particular time and place. There is no shame in that. I feel that my own current series, Sullivan's War, walks a line between those two extremes. I am satisfied, for now, with providing an entertaining story that has some meaning and speaks to the human condition but by no means contains any great, original, profound realizations. But I will not always be satisfied with that. I yearn to create a work that will meet my own criteria. I want--in my selfish egotism--to create a work of lasting significance.
I believe that I will fulfill my responsibility to society some day. And I hope that you all, whether you be writers, musicians, painters--any of you who are creative in any way--will join me in attempting to achieve the goal of leaving a legacy that will enrich our culture and carry on to generations yet to come.
But this did set me thinking more about an issue I touched on in that post. I wrote that those with a voice to which the masses listen, those who are able to reach a great many people, should ask themselves what their voices are contributing to society. In a writer's selfish pursuit of writing--whatever his reasons for writing may be--shouldn't he endeavor to ensure that his writing results in a net positive to society?
I believe that art is anything that is done for the sake of art. There may be additional motives (such as fame or fortune) and there is, of course, a vast difference between "good art" and "bad art" but I have found that works which are broadly defined as "good art" or "great art" possess a few common features.
1. It is done for the art first. Of course, many of the greatest artists and composers had wealthy patrons but were they artists because they believed it would make them some scratch? I'm sure more than one skilled artist hoped to become the darling of a particular court or city but if the driving force was the art itself, then I believe by its very nature it will be superior to art which is done for other reasons. Commercial art, for example, is produced to sell products. The work of Thomas Kinkade, I am certain, is driven chiefly by profit. There is nothing wrong with making your art commercially viable, of course, but to create truly great art the impetus must be the art itself.
2. Good art is attractive. Note that I do not say "beautiful" but "attractive." This means that good art must attract the attention of an audience. To do this it can be exceedingly beautiful, of course, or it can be exceedingly ugly and disturbing, it can be terrifying or saddening. But without the attention of an audience, it will fail, no matter what its other merits may be.
3. Good art is meaningful. For me, this is the high bar. I enjoy a pretty picture or a catchy song as much as the next person but if there is no meaning I will quickly lose interest. If there is no meaning, I will not remember it much beyond my initial viewing/reading/listening. In music, this has led to a personal shift from the rock and pop music of my younger years to classical and jazz. I still like rock and pop and listen to it on occasion but classical music is what you will almost always find on my stereo. As an aside, I will point out that there is meaningless classical music as well. For the same reason, this music doesn't stay with me for long.
4. Good art has staying power. A work of art may take the nation by storm for a summer--think of films or pop songs or mass market thrillers--but who will remember it a year from now? A generation from now? In two hundred years the works of Mozart, Beethoven, Mahler, will still be performed. Adele? Probably not. MC Hammer? Certainly not. Often a lack of staying power is the result of a lack of meaning, but not always. Sometimes it is simply not attractive enough. Dadaism was certainly attractive when it came about and it certainly had meaning--although some would argue that point--but the problem was that it created a spectacle for a few short years and, aside from freshmen studying Art History 101, no one gives it any thought these days. It was too rooted in its time and place. Great art has to transcend those boundaries and be as meaningful for a person a hundred years from now and a continent away as it is for those who were around when it was created.
Now, I'm sure that many will be able to object to and pick apart my criteria for great art. But I would emphasize that these are my criteria. Others are welcome to disagree; in fact, I would love to know (in the comments section below) what you all think makes for great art.
As is often the case when I write, Point A has to be informed by Point B before I can continue. So, now that you have my Point B (the makings of great art) I can return to Point A (a writer's responsibility).
So, my main query is this: does a writer have a responsibility to attempt to create great art? I answer with a resounding maybe. As I've mentioned elsewhere there is a place for everything. People need catchy tunes to dance to in nightclubs just as I need a composer like Marjan Mozetich to carry me away on the wings of bliss. But you can only bump and grind for so long. Eventually, a person needs to feed his mind and his soul with something of substance, something that will expand one's consciousness. And it pains me to think that so many people in this world go through their lives and have very few of those types of experiences. With all the beauty and wonder in this world, it is saddening that so much of it is ignored by the majority of humanity.
Again, I am sure that some will argue that a teen-aged girl can find as much meaning in a Justin Bieber song as I do in Beethoven's 9th Symphony, as much profound realization in Twilight as I do in 2001: A Space Odyssey. I also suppose that some will say I am a cultural snob. Perhaps I am. But pop culture can only go so far toward feeding the artistic desires of a society. At some point, we must move past the banal and realize that these things which seem so important, so profound today, will be fading memories come tomorrow and beyond.
So, does a writer have a responsibility to create works that will transcend this time and this place, works which will be read a hundred years from now? The "maybe" I gave in response still holds. Some of us do. Some of us will. Others will write good, enjoyable books that will fill a particular need in a particular time and place. There is no shame in that. I feel that my own current series, Sullivan's War, walks a line between those two extremes. I am satisfied, for now, with providing an entertaining story that has some meaning and speaks to the human condition but by no means contains any great, original, profound realizations. But I will not always be satisfied with that. I yearn to create a work that will meet my own criteria. I want--in my selfish egotism--to create a work of lasting significance.
I believe that I will fulfill my responsibility to society some day. And I hope that you all, whether you be writers, musicians, painters--any of you who are creative in any way--will join me in attempting to achieve the goal of leaving a legacy that will enrich our culture and carry on to generations yet to come.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
A Guide to Attending the Symphony or Opera, Part I
Well, I know this is a bit off-topic but as I was sitting in my regular seat at the symphony last night and looking at all the empty seats (granted, it was Black Friday) I realized that a lot of people may want to attend the symphony--the more ambitious the opera--but may feel intimidated about it or feel that it is a stuffy, formal affair. They may be afraid of committing some breach of etiquette. So, I've put together this guide in the hope that those who read it will get out there and support the high arts!
Part One - The Dos
1. Do buy your ticket in advance. Often you can buy a ticket at the box office the night of the performance but then you'd have to leave your date standing in the cold while you scan the seating chart and select your seats. You also risk not being able to find a seat or, perhaps worse, finding that only the expensive seats are left.
2. Do arrive early. At least half an hour before the start time. This, of course, gives you a buffer if there is bad traffic or an accident. But, it is very bad form to walk in after a performance has started it. Many venues will let you in but some will make you wait until there is a pause in the music. Again, not a good way to impress your date.
3. Do dress up. No, I don't expect white tie and top hats and yes, many places you will see people arriving in t-shirts and jeans but... don't be one of those people. Slacks and a button down is perfectly acceptable for the men, a skirt/dress or nice slacks and blouse for the women. In most cities you will see very few people dressed formally and if you go in "business casual" (even though I hate that term) you'll fit right in. A sport coat and tie for the men will kick it up another notch. Also, if you don't own a matching suit, don't try to match an odd pair of pants to a sport coat. Contrast the coat with a lighter or darker trouser.
4. Do try to listen to the piece beforehand. Part of the enjoyment of the symphony for me is comparing how the live performance differs from my favorite recordings. Most programs will also give you a bit of history about the composer and piece (you did arrive a half hour early so you could read it, right?). Sometimes this information will enrich your appreciation of a piece. Knowing the circumstances of the composer's life or what was going on when he wrote the piece can add another level of understanding and enjoyment to your experience.
5. Do have fun. Don't think that you can't smile if a particular passage comes across as humorous--the composer may have actually intended it to be so! (see Haydn). Don't be afraid to tap your foot during a rousing finale (just be sure not to disturb your neighbor). This music is meant to be enjoyed, not coldly studied and analysed (although you can do that, too!)
Part Two - The Don'ts
1. Don't, for any reason, make unnecessary noise during the performance. There is no reason to talk to your partner, unwrap hard candy (do it beforehand and keep a few pieces in your pocket), flip noisily through your program or yell at the performers. Women (and men, for that matter) should think twice before wearing loud accessories, such as bangles that'll clink together or purses with chain straps.
2. Don't answer your phone or text. Phones should be silenced. If you have a job or situation that requires you to be constantly on call, try to get an aisle seat near the back so you can take the call in the lobby. And texting is a no-no. The bright light in a darkened hall is very distracting to the people behind you.
3. Don't wear any strong perfumes or colognes. I don't think I need to explain this one.
4. Don't clap between movements. Many pieces are comprised of several movements and it is standard to wait until the piece is finished before applauding. There are two exceptions: during the opera it is appropriate to applaud a performer after an aria and during a piece with a solo performer (such as a concerto) it is rarely appropriate to applaud him or her between movements after a particularly impressive performance. Hint: this is another reason you listen to the piece beforehand. Now, if someone does begin a clap at an inappropriate time, herd mentality means that several others will follow along. Don't do it. The fewer people that clap, the sooner the music can continue and they might get the hint and not do it after the end of the next movement. If you are unsure that the piece has ended, wait for the majority of the hall to being applauding before you join in. Also watch the conductor. He will indicate the ending by lowering his arms and turning around.
5. Don't leave before the applause has ended and the lights have come up. This is just inconsiderate to the performers (and yes, they can see you walking down the aisle while they're taking their bows). Aside: a standing ovation is common for great performances. If everyone else stands, do so as well. If only a few stand, stand as well if you want to. No one will look down on you for a solo/sporadic standing O. I've done it several times when I thought the performance deserved it.
Feel free to ask any questions in the comments section. I'd also love to hear of your own tips for attending the opera or symphony.
Best,
Michael
See Also:
A Guide to Attending the Symphony or Opera, Part II
Part One - The Dos
1. Do buy your ticket in advance. Often you can buy a ticket at the box office the night of the performance but then you'd have to leave your date standing in the cold while you scan the seating chart and select your seats. You also risk not being able to find a seat or, perhaps worse, finding that only the expensive seats are left.
2. Do arrive early. At least half an hour before the start time. This, of course, gives you a buffer if there is bad traffic or an accident. But, it is very bad form to walk in after a performance has started it. Many venues will let you in but some will make you wait until there is a pause in the music. Again, not a good way to impress your date.
3. Do dress up. No, I don't expect white tie and top hats and yes, many places you will see people arriving in t-shirts and jeans but... don't be one of those people. Slacks and a button down is perfectly acceptable for the men, a skirt/dress or nice slacks and blouse for the women. In most cities you will see very few people dressed formally and if you go in "business casual" (even though I hate that term) you'll fit right in. A sport coat and tie for the men will kick it up another notch. Also, if you don't own a matching suit, don't try to match an odd pair of pants to a sport coat. Contrast the coat with a lighter or darker trouser.
4. Do try to listen to the piece beforehand. Part of the enjoyment of the symphony for me is comparing how the live performance differs from my favorite recordings. Most programs will also give you a bit of history about the composer and piece (you did arrive a half hour early so you could read it, right?). Sometimes this information will enrich your appreciation of a piece. Knowing the circumstances of the composer's life or what was going on when he wrote the piece can add another level of understanding and enjoyment to your experience.
5. Do have fun. Don't think that you can't smile if a particular passage comes across as humorous--the composer may have actually intended it to be so! (see Haydn). Don't be afraid to tap your foot during a rousing finale (just be sure not to disturb your neighbor). This music is meant to be enjoyed, not coldly studied and analysed (although you can do that, too!)
Part Two - The Don'ts
1. Don't, for any reason, make unnecessary noise during the performance. There is no reason to talk to your partner, unwrap hard candy (do it beforehand and keep a few pieces in your pocket), flip noisily through your program or yell at the performers. Women (and men, for that matter) should think twice before wearing loud accessories, such as bangles that'll clink together or purses with chain straps.
2. Don't answer your phone or text. Phones should be silenced. If you have a job or situation that requires you to be constantly on call, try to get an aisle seat near the back so you can take the call in the lobby. And texting is a no-no. The bright light in a darkened hall is very distracting to the people behind you.
3. Don't wear any strong perfumes or colognes. I don't think I need to explain this one.
4. Don't clap between movements. Many pieces are comprised of several movements and it is standard to wait until the piece is finished before applauding. There are two exceptions: during the opera it is appropriate to applaud a performer after an aria and during a piece with a solo performer (such as a concerto) it is rarely appropriate to applaud him or her between movements after a particularly impressive performance. Hint: this is another reason you listen to the piece beforehand. Now, if someone does begin a clap at an inappropriate time, herd mentality means that several others will follow along. Don't do it. The fewer people that clap, the sooner the music can continue and they might get the hint and not do it after the end of the next movement. If you are unsure that the piece has ended, wait for the majority of the hall to being applauding before you join in. Also watch the conductor. He will indicate the ending by lowering his arms and turning around.
5. Don't leave before the applause has ended and the lights have come up. This is just inconsiderate to the performers (and yes, they can see you walking down the aisle while they're taking their bows). Aside: a standing ovation is common for great performances. If everyone else stands, do so as well. If only a few stand, stand as well if you want to. No one will look down on you for a solo/sporadic standing O. I've done it several times when I thought the performance deserved it.
Feel free to ask any questions in the comments section. I'd also love to hear of your own tips for attending the opera or symphony.
Best,
Michael
See Also:
A Guide to Attending the Symphony or Opera, Part II
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