I have been absent from the Internet for about four months and won’t bore you with explanations. Instead, I’ll relaunch with a story about my tour with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra in the fall of 1972.
John Wyre and I had played for Seiji Ozawa in the Toronto Symphony. Seiji was now conducting the San Francisco Symphony and asked us to play extra percussion on its concerts in Europe and Russia. The tour was not going to be very difficult for us. I was to play chimes in the Charles Ives “Fourth Symphony” and snare drum in Leonard Bernstein’s “Candide” overture. I had played the one conductor version of the Ives with Gunther Shuller (b.1925) conducting the Rochester (NY) Philharmonic with Yuji Takahashi (b.1938) playing piano. At that time, I was just beginning my job as principal percussionist with the Rochester Philharmonic and in order to prepare for the first Ives rehearsal, had spent the previous summer copying by hand a complete percussion score. I had known “Candide” for many years and could play its percussion parts from memory. Thus relatively unencumbered with work, I could enjoy the travel, food and sites. We played Paris, Salzburg and Florence before flying to St. Petersburg for the first concert of the Russian tour.
As a student, John had visited Leningrad with the Eastman School of Music Symphony Orchestra. During that trip he had met the Timpanist of the Leningrad Philharmonic. Upon our arrival his friend took us to lunch. We drank copious amounts of white wine and Georgian brandy and the last thing I remember is John and me lying on our hotel room beds laughing, at what, I have no idea. Then, as if anesthetized, oblivion struck. I heard knocking at the door. I opened it and there stood the Orchestra’s personnel manager. Sobriety and a serious reality check instantly took hold.
Tony Cirone and his wife had attended mass in Florence and had missed the orchestra’s flight to Leningrad. The orchestra needed me to play Tony’s parts for tonight’s concert. His book was on stage along with all the instruments I would need. The concert hall was directly across the street from our hotel and inside were rows of simple chairs on a flat wooden floor. The hall had no proscenium arch, no curtains, just a raised wooden platform at one end of its rectangular shape. This then, was the elegant and uncomplicated home of the legendary and world renowned Leningrad Philharmonic. The acoustic was “live”. Effortlessly, sounds filled its space.
Great Hall of the Philhamonic, St. Petersburg, Russia.
The program included a Serge Prokofiev (1891-1953) “Romeo and Juliet Suite”; I can’t recall which one, with wonderful snare drum “licks” fast and soft, then slow and loud, but Bernstein’s “Serenade for Solo Violin, String Orchestra, Harp and Percussion” was the work that most occupied my attention. When I had finished practicing I played a little bit of the famous snare drum part in Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony. Given the venue, how could I not? I became aware of a man standing about 10 feet away from me. Approaching, he pointed to the drum and said over and over, “Nazi, Nazi”. Shostakovich dedicated his 7th Symphony to the people of Leningrad and the end of fascism. Some claim Stalin was his target as much as German aggression.
Before leaving San Francisco, the orchestra was lectured by government suits. We were in the depths of the so called Cold War and their message was meant to minimize our contact with the proletariate and avoid any incidents. They warned us against bringing drugs or pornography into Russia. We were told to avoid books or magazines that might be controversial. If in doubt, don’t pack it as it was difficult to know what books might be banned. We were told to ignore requests from Russians for denim clothes or rock and roll records. These were highly prized items which could be re-sold on the black market. The message seemed to suggest we stay in our hotels and stick to playing music. Best not speak with any Russians. One could never know who was spying for the government.
These admonishments were not lost on this orchestra. It had just emerged from seven years under Josef Krips, a dictatorial martinet who used fear to dominate the players and fired some of them. With Seiji’s arrival, the paranoia spread and deepened. The players suspected more heads would roll. But that was not Seiji’s style and besides, he was just a few years away from assuming the helm of the Boston Symphony. But they couldn’t know that at the time. In retrospect, this atmosphere could explain the awkward reception given me and John by some of the players.
The Leningrad concert was an adrenaline rush. I had never played Bernstein’s wonderful “Serenade” so excuse me if I don’t remember much about that night’s performance. I do recall meeting Seiji eyeball to eyeball as we speedily made our way towards the end. It was one of those unconscious, in the zone experiences we all hope to have.
Our next stop was the city of Vilnius, Lithuania. There one evening John and I took a walk with two of the string bass players. As we strolled down the street outside our hotel, we passed a private home with 8 foot tall marijuana plants growing inside its fence, each stalk loaded with leaves. We couldn’t believe our eyes and kept walking, laughing at our good fortune. When darkness fell we stripped as many leaves as we could and hid them in our clothes. We’d show those narcs a thing or two!
We took the stash back to our hotel room, packed wet bathroom towels at the door and its transom, covered the top of a lamp shade with tin foil to concentrate the lamp’s heat and laid our leaves in small batches as close as possible to the heat. We told stories late into the morning hours as we waited for the leaves to dry enough to smoke. Our excitement was near hysteria when we rolled the first enormous joint. Each of us took a deep inhale, held it for as long as possible. Exhaling slowly, we waited for the hit to take hold. Serious now, we looked at each other, no one wanting to make the first judgement. At last we began to laugh. At about 5 AM we faced the fact that we’d been bamboozled by lust and scraggy Lithuanian weed.
While having dinner with San Francisco’s management in Vilnius, the orchestra’s manager asked if I would become their principal percussionist. I respectfully declined, citing my obligation to Nexus, just one year old at the time. But I couldn’t resist giving them my opinion on the deplorable psychological morass of their orchestra, poor morale born of insecurity, fear and suspicion – states of mind not conducive to music making. There were no rejoinders. I didn’t tell them I was afraid of an earthquake flushing the state of California and me into the Pacific Ocean.
Note:
During the 900 day siege of Leningrad, conductor Evgeny Mravinsky and Leningrad the Leningrad orchestra were evacuated to Siberia. Members of the Leningrad Radio Orchestra remained in the city. Mravinsky conducted the Leningrad Orchestra from 1938 until 1988 and is considered responsible for the orchestra’s amazing precision, particularly in its control of dynamics. I heard the orchestra in Toronto in the mid 1970s and its ability to change from fortissimo to pianissimo was breathtakingly instantaneous and precise. The premier of the 7th took place on 5 March 1942 in Kuibyshev with the Bolshoi Ballet Orchestra, Samul Samosud conducting. Karl Eliasberg gathered members of the Leningrad Radio Orchestra and the 15 or 16 members of the Leningrad B orchestra who were still living and gave the Leningrad premiere on 9 August 1942. Parts of the 7th were written in Leningrad before Shostakovich and his family were ordered by the communist party to leave Leningrad. I have on vinyl a rare recording of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7 , Op. 60, “Leningrad” with Mravinsky, for many years Shostakovich’s favourite conductor, conducting the Leningrad Philharmonic. Although notes on the recording are vague, it was probably recorded during the otchestra’s 1955-56 European tour. (Vanguard-VRS-6030/ 1) Between 640,000 and 800,000 people died in Leningrad during the siege.
Robin Engelman 
TorQ Ensemble: Morphy, Rolfe, Reich and Cage.
TorQ
Years ago, I read a National Geographic article about a newly discovered tribe in the wilds of South America. The tribe had no predators, their children were raised communally, abundent supplies of food were always within arms reach, they did not work and the men spent much of their time lazing in hammocks. Their average lifespan was 30 years. Scientists reporting on tribe’s seemingly idyllic existence, speculated their early deaths were due to boredom. The tribe had no music or dance. None at all.
Beyond this cultural anomaly, music and dance are universal, historically percussion being the prominent music purveyor. From the single rhythm Inuit and native American Indian frame drums, to the complex percussion ensembles of Africa; from Turkish hand drums and Korean Samulnori ensembles, to Brazilian Samba clubs; from Indonesian Gamalans and Caribbean Voodoo drums, percussion instruments provide the heart and impetus to dancers.
Composer John Cage comes first to mind when I think of percussion and dance in North America. A prime emxaple is Cage’s CREDO IN US (1942), a work for percussion whose original choreography is not extant. Throughout the United States and Canada, Cage’s music and populal misconceptions about his ideas on improvisation, have led to a multitude of annual collaborations between university dance and percussion departments.
I’ve participated in my share of these collaborations, some of them free-for-all wastes of time. The best were choreographed by professional teacher dancers, but in recent years I’d not been aware of professional percussion ensembles pursuing this creative medium. Until now.
On May 3 and 4, 2013, TorQ percussion quartet gave three sold out concerts under the name New Manoeuvers in the Dancemakers facility of the Distillery District of Toronto. TorQ had asked Jacob Niedzwiecky, Louis Laberge-Côté, Lauren Van Gijn and Linda Garneau to choreograph works for their student dancers by Janes Rolfe, a TorQ commission, a recent work by Steve Reich, a new work byTorQ member Daniel Morphy, and a classic John Cage quartet dating from 1942.
Dancemakers performance space is a rectangle. The audience and performers are separated by a long, wide area covered by a dancer’s floor. There are about 70 bleacher seats for the audience and across the way, there seemed to be adequate space for TorQ. The acoustic was altogether satisfying and percussion sounds rang true.
The program began with the premier of Janes Rolfe’s, Why You. Jacob Niedzwiecky named his choreography Meek, Bent and MIld. Rolfe intended his music to be one continuous movement, but the choreography, employing ropes, required pauses, which to my ears, hindered not at all the music’s effectiveness. The music is ebulliant, well orchestrated and constructed. It is reminiscent of moments in John Cage’s early percussion works and his Sonata’s and Interludes for prepared Piano. But only reminiscent. This is a unique work and was delightfully danced. TorQ should keep Why You in its quartet concert repertoire.
Steve Reich’s Mallet Quartet is just a couple of years old, but I’ve had the opportunity to hear it a number of times. It doesn’t appeal to me as, say, his Music for Pieces of Wood. His quartet sounds to me like a “Toss-off”. But one problem is how its been played. It seems Reich’s music for percussion is always played mechanically and loud. These interpretations aggravate me and after a short time I’m compelled to say, “Enough already. I get it”. Still, as music for dance, Mallet Quartet worked. The vibraphones were played with a lilting swing which, though loud enough, was a human touch. I still think this work is of little significance, but TorQ’s interpretation made listening tolerable. The dancers were Michael Caldwell and Jordana Deveau. Michael Caldwell was the star of the duo, self assured, polished and thoroughly musical. Jordana was a great partner if just a touch less compelling. I had not expected to see student dancing of this calibre. Their performance of the Louis Laberge-Côté choreography Three Times Two, gave the Reich work its raison d’etre.
For me and I think the audience, the work that stole the show was Daniel Morphy’s Dance Cycles # 1 having the choreographed name of Restless / Reverie. Morphy’s music and the dance were seamlessly blended into a time stopping bouquet of sound and movement. As the music begins, dancers enter stage left and right with small hand-held tuned gongs, each stroke timed to the dancers personal count. The effec of their slow swirls creates magic. At the end of the work Morphy plays on small resonant metal percussion, a long diminuendo that carries the ear and the performance to rest. A gem.
Percussionists have an important relationship with John Cage and his music. Cage’s early works, all written for percussion, is the core repertoire for North American percussion ensembles. Of those works, Third Construction is generally considered to be his finest creation and I was very interested to hear it with dance. Linda Garneau named her choreography Reconstructions: an architectural study and was satisfyingly danced by Mia Delina. I was infatuated by TorQ’s performance. There’s a wooden tongue drum solo mid way that is very soft. It was played softly, but at half tempo. A startling effect, something akin to a reverse “Warp Speed, Scotty”. From that point to the end, TorQ was passionate and exciting. TorQ has recorded this work on BEDOINT RECORDS.
TorQ’s programme was refreshing, musically satisfying and exciting. All in all, a significant evening of memorable entertainment. In the case of New Manoeuvers, collaboration between percussion and dance created an artistic success. One that could bear exploration.
www.torqpercussion.ca
Posted by robinengelman on June 28, 2013 in Commentaries & Critiques, Composers, Contemporary Music, Unassigned
Tags: African drumming, Dancemakers, Daniel Morphy, Inuit. Native American Indians, James Rolfe, John Cage, Percussion and Dance, Steve Reich, TorQ Percussion