Today, thankfully, I didn't have to take the bus. We got our car back and it's purring like a kitten. That alone wouldn't normally allow me respite from public transportation, but this morning I made arrangements to go the Moore library and collect some data on Telemann's massive worklist. I had terrible luck on the road, as some short term construction project was taking place on the 23 - I never did see what it was, but I crawled up through it all the way from the 94 to Washtenaw Exit "B". I figured I'd be okay on the way back, but much to my shock by my return drive they'd moved the project across to the other side! (What were they doing?)
Mrs. Lewis had a hankerin' for the restaurant we all call "Dead Lobster" so that's where we were this eve, 45 minute wait and all. I've heard that fishermen in NE are complaing that their lobster pots aren't turning up as many victims these days. I suspect that's because there are huge chains like Red Lobster sucking 'em in faster than they can be caught - as a hostess said tonight, "the tank is always empty". Icthyologists may say "oh, you'll never run out of lobsters", and it's true that thousands of them are born at once to a single lobster mother. But two thirds of the babies are instantly eaten by other ocean critters; the one that's on your plate is a lobster that managed to survive to adulthood, only to be eaten finally by you.
Muy question is, if it so happens that last lobster should turn up on plate with butter on the side and there are no more to be served, then what is Red Lobster going to call itself? "Clam Dandy's"? "The Dismembered Crab"?
I made up a little song this morning, in anticipation of my dinner. It is sung to that Three Dog Night tune to which the words are "The ink is black/ the page is white"...etc.
"The lobster's red
The lobster's dead
I pull it apart to stuff my head
The lobster's red
The lobster's dead
It gave up it's life so I could be fed"
The boys at the office sure liked that one.
Now, onto Antheil, as promised. George Antheil wrote five piano concertos, but only numbered 2 of them. The first,
written between 1918 and 1920, was written during his course of studies with Ernest Bloch. He called it "No. 1", but it's really more like "No. 0" as it is set for 2 pianos and survives only as an eight page fragment. It is not known if he ever orchestrated the second piano part. The real "No. 1" was written in Paris in 1922 and is the concerto recorded by German pianist Micheal Rische on this new Arte Nova disc, "Piano Concertos of the 20s" (Arte Nova 74321 91014 2). It's been awhile since we've seen anything new from Arte Nova on these shores, as this product line was temporarily suspended in the U.S. after BMG's American classical music operation went down the toilet in 1999. I, for one, am happy to see it back, as they offer a lot of off-brand classical literature at a super-bargain price.
And it turns out that this Piano Concerto is a real discovery. Although in his notes Rische repeats Anthiel's own quote that he "represented (an) anti-expressive, anti-romantic, ice-cold aesthetic" the music isn't like that at all. There are mechanistic rhythms, repetition and propulsiveness, but there is also a cockeyed kind of lyricism to it. There are moments where there is just a static chord with Antheil's solo piano part arpeggiating through sequences of weird scales that are absolutely beautiful and wouldn't be out of place in his later film music. There are also parts that jagged and noisy, but these are in the minority, and strike me as funny and delightful. This concerto doesn't seem to have been written to shock people so much as its composer was trying to reach into the future, grab a handful of it and pull it back into the 1920s. How successful Antheil was in this regard is even more pointed up by the dated, idea-poor and inept 1927 "modern" Piano Concerto which follows it - that written by Aaron Copland. Sacred cow, I know, but Copland would do better later.
Before moving on I should mention that the structure of the Antheil Concerto is air-tight, and it follows exactly the standard form of a one-movement piano concerto in the romantic sense. When the expected recaps come along they are sort of a letdown on first listen, because it disturbs some of the really interesting ideas that George gets going. But on subsequent listens you know they're coming and they are not so bothersome.
Rische in his notes states that Antheil "almost quotes" Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring". Actually, he doesn't, except for a leaping clarinet figure near the start of the Concerto. But he DOES quote "Petrushka" at least three times, and during one section he turns one of the familiar piano cadenzas from "Petrushka" inside-out for hilarious effect. It's appropriate - Stravinsky himself rips off part of a Lanner waltz in "Petrushka". Antheil would go on to quote Stravinsky throughout his career, quite effectively recycling part of the "Sacrifice" from "Rite of Spring" in his score for the film DEMENTIA (1955).
The filler on the disc, which takes it up to a total time of 70 minutes (the Antheil Concerto is exactly 20 minutes) is appropriate, but could've been chosen more carefully. The Honegger Concertino and Ravel Concerto in G are added to the Copland, and if you don't have these works already, boy is this a bargain for you! But, especially in the case of the Ravel, these works are better experienced in another context. Rische delivers a solid performance of the Honegger, but Jean-Yves Thibaudet has also recorded it on the same disc with both of Ravel's Concerti. The only pianist I've heard to make sense of the Copland was Lorin Hollander on Delos, although I haven't heard Garrick Ohlsson's version with Tilson Thomas and San Francisco. As much as I love Garrick's playing, I don't know that I want to! I think Rische would've been well advised to record the magnificent Alexander Mosolov piano concerto of 1928 here; it's not as though that concerto is easy to find on disc these days.
However for the money this is easily recommendable, and the Antheil First Concerto is a major work that needs to be heard and enjoyed. I do have a complaint about the sound of the disc. It is distant, and a little too quiet. I'm admittedly hard of hearing, as those of you who know me are doubtless aware. But my little disc player at work is plenty powerful, and I hear well through headphones, and yet I was never able to bring this disc up to a level that was comfortable for me. This disc is much quieter even that other, older Arte Nova discs I have, which leads me to suspect that they're cutting a corner here that maybe they should've left intact.
Uncle Dave Lewis