Notes from the Underground, A Music Review

Of course I'm biased but it's hard to say that Ben Pierce's new project is anything short of impeccable. I love it. And, anyone who is into well-performed contemporary music will love it too.

There are several reasons why this album is a success. In general,  Kristy Mezines, did a superb job; she's the pianist. A lot of the music on the album is brand new. It's always hard being the first to collaborate on stuff that has never been performed in my opinion. She knocks it out of the park. Also, the very fact that there is so much new music is pretty cool. And even cooler is the fact that one of the new pieces is from University of Arkansas' own Dr. Robert Mueller (Professor of Composition and Theory).

Among the more specific things I admire about this project is the musicality that Pierce brings to every piece on the CD. Whether it's fast or slow, high or low, the music speaks. There is something human and expressive happening at all times.

The second reason why I love this album is the virtuosity presented in various pieces. Moto Perpetuo, op. 2 (Christoskov) shows a very traditional type of virtuosity and showmanship. It is glorious in its own right and Pierce executes it with unbelievable agility and intensity.

What is more impressive to me, however, is the Sonata in G Major (Eccles). 

He performs this, of course, on the tuba, as it is originally written for double bass. I like that it demands extreme dexterity like a "show piece" might. However, it is restrained and controlled; intelligible. Dr. Pierce has separated himself from a superficial approach to technique often heard from tuba artists (even some well-known ones). The way he plays the sonata combines showmanship with elegance and clarity.  Whereas, some tubists play showy things that ostensibly sound impressive: there are lots of notes, it hangs in an extended range, it is fast. Great. But when you listen further, the melody of these fast passages is more percussive than melodious. The musicality and calm is lost. It becomes more of a statement that, "I can play really fast, loud, and high. And you should applaud this because I'm a tuba player and most tuba players can't do this much." I feel that the Dr. Pierce's performance of this sonata makes tubists reconsider what it means to be a virtuosic tuba player. That's what it did for me at least.

This brings me to the third reason why I am a fan of Notes from the Underground. 

The repertoire.

It is both diversified and accessible. "New Music" often comes with a connotation of borderline tonal and just plain weird. For the selections on the album that could fall under this daunting category, they are offset by being accessible through their programmatic nature (Lebedeva) or through deeply lyrical melodies (Mueller). The Mueller piece actually puts me in the mind of Hindemith's sonatas a little bit. For those who don't like Hindemith, the connection I'm drawing between the two is my own opinion.  So give the Mueller piece a chance anyway. It's totally worth it.

There is something for everyone's musical comfort level on the album but also something to extend everyone's palette a little bit. Or at the very least, something that will make you think more highly of low brass solo music and performance.

Professor Pierce will be performing on Tuesday, February 12, 7:30 PM in the Stella Boyles Recital Hall on the University of Arkansas campus in Fayetteville. For more awe and wonder check out Ben Pierce's website. His albums are also available through iTunes.

Performance Practice

The longer I study music in a school setting, the more curious I become with the schools of thought surrounding interpretation of music. I personally think that music should be performed any kind of way that the performer feels best expresses themselves and their ideas. That is not to say that education should do away with teaching performance traditions. Rather, the idea of free, sensible expression should be encouraged more in secondary education.

In my limited observations and experiences, self-expression is a limited privilege to aspiring classical musicians. Unless you fall in the prodigious category or just have no respect for the thoughts of your teacher, you must resign to the conventional, to the common practice, to the historically accurate. It doesn't matter if you are in school to sing, conduct, or play. There is an air of "you're too young to know how you feel. So don't let your feelings interrupt

I think of instrumental music like an argumentative essay. No matter how outlandish or commonplace your argument is, your it must be supported by evidence and take a progression that is logically followed with relative ease. To that point, why is it looked down upon to approach music the same way with something like Bach Cello Suites, Telemann, Mahler or Tchaikovsky symphonies? In these instances, I often hear people say "their interpretation went too far," or "it was too fast," or "the cello suite was too romantic." I always ask, "Well, did it sound good?" Ultimately that's what matters right? I mean, if we were meant to scrupulously follow the "intent of the composer," how would anything we listen to ever sound different?

While Bach, Tchaikovsky, et al possessed a level of genius that I'll never reach, they were also human. Musicians seem to forget that. The pedestal that musicians put these titans on is more like hagiolatry than it is admiration. There is trepidation and needless apprehension, in my opinion, when approaching their music. Music is innately connected to the human experience. So is it really music if the performance of a piece ignores (even if a little bit) the experience of the one resurrecting it? I would say no. It's almost music. It's something watered down. It is academic and contrived.

Two of my favorite people in all of music epitomize the kind of interpretive ideas I'm suggesting. The first is Pablo Casals. He was a brilliant educator, cellist, and conductor. I recordings of him performing all of Bach's Cello Suites. Plainly stated, it's expressive and it's beautiful. He did not concern himself with the "musical right wing," if you will. Rather, he would study the music intimately; its repeated motives, harmonic structure, direction of line, all to render an accurate, human performance. His thoughts are crystal clear and rather moving in David Blum's book, Casals and the Art of Interpretation. It's a long, methodical read but it is full of expression and lots of stories from and of Casal's himself.

The second person whom I really love when it comes to expression is Leonard Bernstein. He possessed a rare fearlessness when on the podium. The first, most powerful thing that comes to mind is a recording of Mahler's Symphony No. 2 he did with The London Symphony Orchestra. The composition is itself very flamboyant but Bernstein takes it to a pleasant extreme. It is a vulnerable openness that I admire and that I strive to bring to everything I perform. Listen to it. It's seriously awesome.

History and the present together make for the most compelling performances and the most authentic ones. Again, just my opinion. But it's something I feel very strongly about.

Random aside:
There is something about moderation these days that evades American culture. Take politics for example, religious right or sassy socialist. Purist or wholistic person?  Choose one. There is no middle ground. Weird.