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Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Philip Glass.

That’s how the old joke goes. 

To some, Philip Glass is merely a gimmick. After the opening performance of Glass’ Akhnaten in its 1984 run at the New York City Opera, New York Times critic Donal Henahan wrote, “[Glass’ operas] stand to music as the sentence ‘See Spot Run’ stands to literature.” To others, Glass’ music has a mesmerizing beauty. Mr. Henahan’s colleague at The New York Times, Robert Palmer, wrote: “One listens to the music and, somehow, without quite knowing it, one crosses the line from being puzzled or irritated to being absolutely bewitched. The experience is inexplicable but utterly satisfying and one could not ask for anything more than that.”

At CMW, we had the privilege of having his String Quartet No. 5 in our lives this spring thanks to the dedicated work of the CMW Fellows Quartet. Because of this piece, I now stand resolutely and proudly with Mr. Palmer. 

The term “minimalism” makes some classical music fans groan. Even some “minimalist” composers shudder at the word. In a nutshell, the term refers to a repeating cell (basic unit) of melody or rhythm that evolves over time because of rhythmic and/or melodic transformation. The first examples of minimalism in music date from the 1960s with the work of Terry Riley and Steve Reich on the West Coast. Philip Glass began experimenting in a minimalist style during his studies in Paris. From 1964-66, Glass studied composition and form on a Fulbright grant with the French composer and pedagogue, Nadia Boulanger. To pick up extra cash, he worked for Ravi Shankar, transcribing music for a score Shankar was composing for the American film, Chappaqua. The repeating rhythmic and melodic patterns entranced Glass, who had never before heard Indian music. In 1965, Glass wrote music for a staging of Samuel Beckett’s Play, using two saxophones that repeated the same two notes over and over, but in different meters—a variant of the “phase” technique introduced by Steve Reich. He would never look back. 

He returned to New York City in 1967 and formed the Philip Glass Ensemble the following year as an outlet for his cyclical compositions. Initially, the Ensemble performed mostly in loft spaces and galleries, and Glass had to supplement his income by working as a mover, a plumber and as a cab driver.

Over time, his audience continued to grow and in 1976, he experienced one of his first global successes with the plot-less opera, Einstein on the Beach. While he had already been legitimized by the pop world with glowing endorsements from Brian Eno and David Bowie, the classical art world began to take notice as well. Commissions and projects in a variety of genres and media poured in, and in 1978, he could finally retire from non-musical jobs and devote himself full time to his craft. Today he is one of the most powerful and influential people in the arts, and one of the most global names in classical music.

In conversation with Los Angeles Times critic and writer, Mark Swed, Glass describes the string quartet as a genre representing a spiritual and personal checkpoint for composers. “In an odd way, string quartets have always functioned like that for composers. I don’t really know why, but it’s almost impossible to get away from it. It’s the way composers of the past have thought and that’s no less true for me.”

When he set about to write his Fifth Quartet (actually his eighth foray into the genre, as his first three attempts were discarded works from his youth), he was unfettered by the need to write a “serious” work of art. “I was thinking that I had really gone beyond the need to write a serious string quartet and that I could write a quartet that is about musicality, which in a certain way is the most serious subject.”

Completed in 1991 and written in five continuous movements, the work opens with a centering, bell-like pizzicato followed by warm, radiant incantations. The first movement is essentially a prelude or a call to worship. The second movement has a feeling of inevitability, with an ostinato rocking bass in the cello propelling an excited syncopated melody above. The third movement announces itself with an energetic, dancing fanfare. It is not difficult to imagine a group of revelers lifting their hands up in a joyous dance of life. Like the slow movement of a Bruckner symphony, long melodic lines, propelled by ostinato arpeggiations and the familiar rocking motion of the second movement, swell to peaks and acquiesce to valleys in a beautiful, slowly paced fourth movement. The final movement opens with repeating, pentatonic shimmers a la the French composer Maurice Ravel. Gradually, a rhythmic groove emerges from the watery texture, which transforms into frenetic scales racing up and down the ladder. A reprise of the quartet’s introduction is then heard before it merges with the quicksilver scalar passages. A controlled hoedown follows before we hear the work’s introduction one final time accompanied by pizzicato echoes of the rocking motor from the second movement.

-Jesse Holstein, Providence String Quartet

On Wednesday evening, Aaron, Jason, Adrienne and I were discussing the conventions around applauding during a performance. This came up because we had just attended the St. Lawrence String Quartet's brilliant concert presented by Rhode Island Chamber Music Concerts, and experienced the awkward silence after the thrilling and breathless conclusion to the first movement of Mendelssohn's F Minor Quartet. Awkward because the silence almost begged to be filled by an emotional response. Instead we sat on our hands and listened to people coughing and rustling papers throughout the hall…

We didn't have to worry about this during the performance the next evening at the West End Recreation Center gym. Responding to that same intensely climatic moment deliberately engineered by Mendelssohn, most the entire audience, myself included, burst into spontaneous applause. Man, did that feel good!

Alex Ross gave a recent lecture in London on the topic of concert audience etiquette. Here's how he began his remarks:

Last fall, Barack Obama hosted an evening of classical music at the White House—once an unremarkable event, more recently something of a freak occurrence. Beforehand, he said, “Now, if any of you in the audience are newcomers to classical music, and aren’t sure when to applaud, don’t be nervous. Apparently, President Kennedy had the same problem. He and Jackie held several classical-music events here, and more than once he started applauding when he wasn’t supposed to. So the social secretary worked out a system where she’d signal him through a crack in the door to the cross-hall. Now, fortunately, I have Michelle to tell me when to applaud. The rest of you are on your own.”

Read the rest of his remarks here.

-Heath Marlow, CMW staff

On Tuesday, Phase III performed Lift Every Voice and Sing on the floor of the State House during Arts Advocacy Day. There was good news, as the Governor announced that he had restored the budget for the state's public art program. There's more to be done…

More photos by Jori in CMW's Flickr account.

More photos by Jori in CMW's Flickr account.

A “dashboard” is an opportunity for a staff member to provide an update to the rest of us at the weekly staff meeting about a specific area of CMW that they are responsible for. Naturally, some people take this exercise further than others…

See Jesse’s Instrument dashboard from last year here.

Dear CMW friends and family,

I am VERY excited to come back home in a couple weeks and check in with all of your smiling faces!! I have been living vicariously through the CMW blog and regular updates from Sara and Kirby, which will have to do for now, I suppose.

Life here in NY has been everything one would expect: a lot of personal creative work, loud, annoying neighbors (I am referring to the people who have moved in within the past five years), and a bohemian-ish lifestyle (read that however you want). I’m busy with my studies in writing for movies and learning about jazz vocabulary and arranging. I have also started work with a string quartet comprised of other colleagues I know from college who are beginning their musical careers here in the City. Our group will be dedicated to performing new works by living New York composers and perform at bars and galleries in town.

So, about our Workshop! When I arrive on March 26th, we’ll be focusing on putting together my arrangement of the CMW Round, with original lyrics by the astoundingly clever Chloe Kline. The piece is a Theme and Variations of sorts, which allows each of the programs within CMW–Phase I, II and III, and Fiddle Lab–to shine with their very own, custom-made variation. This piece was a real joy for me to work on because it allowed me to reflect on the work we had done together and, in a way, to compile my findings in one complete musical work.

I am hoping this will be a fun way for us all to reconnect and make some music that’s fun and filled with the CMW spirit—complete with a traditional CMW “free jam” at the end for everyone, including friends and parents to let their voices be heard! Be sure to keep looking over your parts if you need to. We will only have two rehearsals to put it together, so the more prepared we are, the better! I’m so excited to see you all again!

Tons of respect and appreciation,

Jessie

More photos by Jori in CMW's Flickr account.

“Just get into the practice hut, close the door and start, and time will slow down,” Barry Shiffman, the director of the residency program said to me on the second day of my two-week residency at the Banff Centre.

Although I had arrived in Banff–which may be one of the most beautiful places in the world–in Alberta, Canada, I had up to that point felt stressed that the time was short and I had so much that I wanted to do while I was there. Barry’s words indeed became true once I was able to settle in and change gears from my normal high-paced rhythm. (Imagine a skittering insect, trying to slow down.)

The days were very full and yet so simple: wake-up, eat, go to my hut and practice for a couple of hours, or on some days go to a lesson or a rehearsal, lunch, more practice, late afternoon swim, walk, or nap, dinner and in the evenings, hear a concert by one of the other residents, and then hang with all the great people there or more practice.

The Banff Centre’s motto is “Inspiring Creativity.” Although my initial expectation had been that creativity would be inspired by having twelve wide open days to do nothing but practice, I quickly discovered that Barry and company had other plans for me. There were lessons scheduled with visiting guest artists, opportunities to participate in collaborative projects with other residents, and rehearsals in addition to the set concerts. The other residents ranged from classical pianists, string and wind players to composers, early music people, some earnest string quartets intent on getting their tape recorded to submit to the Banff String Quartet Competition, and a few singer/songwriters.

One of my favorite collaborative projects was a curated piece with a visiting composer, Giorgio Magnanensi, which combined acoustic instruments with live electronics. The performance relied on the performers to carry out both written music and structured improvisation. A motley crew of sixteen musicians, whose breadth was typical of Banff’s ethic of creative combinations, included a pianist, a player of a handmade Kora (African harp/lute), a blues guitarist, recorder player, harpsichordist, vocalists, strings and more. The piece lasted about fifty minutes and the combined sounds of all the musicians and Giorgio’s score was manipulated electronically and presented to the audience with 5.1 surround sound technology.

The two weeks culminated with a performance of the Martinu Madrigals with Sebastian, on the Friday night “Concert Night Out” Series.

My practice retreat was both about soaking in the creative vibe at Banff and getting some concentrated work done in my hut. It was true that in the practice room, once I shut the door and picked up my fiddle, time slowed down. It felt luxurious to practice as if I had all the time in the world; to spend time on open strings, relaxation and my breath while playing, as well as sorting out technical things in some of the pieces I was working on. Instead of hurrying to learn repertoire as quickly as I could for a concert, here I could take the time to spend half an hour on thirds and an hour on a scale, because that was the first of many hours I had each day.

And of course, who could ask for a more beautiful place to be? Surrounded by mountains, it’s impossible to not feel calmer, more focused and more open. I could easily have spent another two weeks there, but hopefully I can carry some of this renewed focus and energy to my life back at CMW. Thank you to Barry and the Banff Centre for this wonderful retreat, to Linda and Owen De Bathe for creating the scholarship at Banff that funded my tuition, and to CMW for letting me take the time away. Hurrah for practice retreats!

-Minna Choi, CMW staff

I'm looking forward to returning to Providence in April. Since the last Quartet Project workshop at CMW in the fall of 2008, I've continued to make steady process towards the goal: creating a collection of new music that will make it easier and more inviting for kids (and beginning string players of all ages) to play chamber music. I've written over a hundred small pieces for string quartet; they begin at an elementary level and become gradually more challenging.

Playing chamber music–and string quartets in particular–with my friends is the reason I'm a musician today. Playing music by yourself is nice; it’s challenging; it’s absorbing; it can be fun. But playing music with others is something else entirely–like moving from flat paper into three dimensions, as if a silent, black-and-white movie suddenly burst into sound and full color! My aim with the Quartet Project is to open new doors into that world of playing together.

In the last 18 months, more than 40 quartets around the world have played pieces from the Quartet Project. Kids from Providence, to New York, to Grand Forks (North Dakota), to Vienna, to New Zealand have premiered pieces. And I've had the good fortune to get to work personally with most of those groups.

It's exciting to hear quartets play music that I wrote weeks or months before. I see the groups working to make sense of a piece they've never heard before. It's satisfying to be able to tell them, "Try it this way," or "Dig into the string there; don't be afraid to make an ugly sound," or just to explain what the idea behind a piece was. It's thrilling to hear the results; the music comes to life. I hear each member of the quartet catching hold of the sound.

The communication flows in the other direction, as well. I watch the quartets. I listen to what they have to say. I hear their rehearsals and performances. And then I go back home and think about how I might sharpen the music, make it more vivid, eliminate any awkward bits that get in the way of what I want the music to say. It's a rare opportunity in our current musical world. Most of the time, the first performance is also the last one. Thanks to workshops like the one at CMW, I have the luxury of taking a second look.

-Geoff Hudson, composer