Music for Two Pianos

Last night Niko and I visited the Herbst Theater to see Music for Two Pianos (listen to excerpts by following the link). It was a very classy evening indeed, as it involved both of us getting dressed up, a dinner that included ceviche and steak, and a cab ride home. Here's what I wore:

Here's what Niko wore:

Plus I think we were the youngest people at the performance - boy those society geriatrics come out of the woodwork for things like this. Standing with the intellectual oldies on the will-call line might've been enough entertainment for me. Guys, seriously, it's not hard to form a straight line, NOT stray from it and then wander back when you feel like it. Take a step forward when the line shifts up a person . . . and please, please, after you've picked up your tickets could you not form a small cluster right in the line with your other oldie friends so that I think you're still waiting when you're really you're just taking up space and making me look like a fool when the person inside the will-call box says, "Next!" and I don't step forward?

The Music

The event showcased several established and emerging composers. We were there because the music of Philip Glass was being featured - he's debuting he's newest opera, about Civil War heroes, in San Francisco so there are a lot of events around it featuring some of his older works. We walked in a few minutes late (which I consider an achievement - me and Niko are usually too worried about getting in trouble to be late for anything - who we'd be in trouble with, I couldn't tell you. It's just a thing we both have. Anyway at dinner we realized we could either rush to leave and get to the performance on time or actually savor our steak and get there ten minutes late - we chose late. And we left the performance early, too - what has San Francisco done to us? Heathens are we!) but were able to take our seats because the show wasn't sold out at all. Glass's pieces were up first, and they were just mesmerizing - he's such a great cinematic composer, his music puts you in a trance and you can't help but imagine scenes of cold autumn mornings, people longing for other people, sadness, mystery, what have you. It was just wonderful.

And it was made even more wonderful after the next two works by emerging composers sucked it up big time. It was like anti-music. The sounds were reminiscent of family gatherings in my house, when the small children would get at the piano and some would bang on the low end and some would bang on the high end, and then the rowdiest of the children would eventually sit on the middle keys. Seriously, not good, at all.

After the intermission we heard some Bach music arranged for four-handed piano - man, he is the s#%&. He put the rest of the composers to shame, even Philip Glass. We decided to skip out right after his piece was finished, so that we left with a good taste in our mouths - more emerging composer work was set to finish off the evening.

After the Music

So after we got back home Niko and I talked for quite some time about the anti-music we'd heard. Niko started off by saying that music may be the most objective of all art forms - in other words, there are some sounds that are universally awful. That was a pretty bold statement, so we chipped away at that for a while. In the end, yes, it's a matter of taste, someone's gotta like it (i.e. the composer), it's just not for us, or for most. But man that's a hard thing to admit.

I decided that the only way I would deem the emerging works a success is if they were supposed to be jarring, annoying, and poorly written so that we'd be forced to go home and talk about music and aesthetics and subjectivity. Then the pieces totally worked; the composers, geniuses. That totally wasn't their aim, though - in fact, the program notes contained many paragraphs of explanation for each of the works, written by the composers, and they were pretty cheesy if you ask me. One was supposed to represent the way the sun moves across the sky . . . are you kidding me? Because all I heard was droning, repetitive, low notes that wished they were part of a Philip Glass piece gnashing against endlessly upward-moving and increasingly annoying right-hand banging.

The Conclusion

Niko and I agreed that all art has the opportunity to tell a story, and, for us at least, good artists are the ones who tell the story well. Not every artist wants to tell a story, I guess, but I don't think that's the kind of art we're drawn to. We like a good story. Philip Glass? Great stories. Bach? You bet your sweet bippy. The other guys? Not so much.

Final note: The two pianists were AMAZING. I'm so blown away by technical skill