Albannach

I think it’s Scottish for “A great Wednesday night”

Or maybe it’s Scottish for “Scotch tasting – FTW”

Or … “Not hung over on Thursday morning”

Last night I went to this bar with some friends (Hot Sauce, his wife, and someone else). It was a multi-event evening.

First – was the Scotch tasting. A fine lad from a long line of Scottsmen took us through a Scotch 101 course. Giving us the history of the drink as we sipped our way through five samples – all from The Glenlivet.

We started off with my “everyday” Scotch … the 12 year old. Then we moved to the 15 year old, French Oak Reserve. Nothing too exciting there – they’re just playing up that this batch of Scotch is aged in French Oak barrels. The third taste was something I haven’t had before, the Nadurra. Which is bottled at “cask strength” without “chill filtration”. (ie: another marketing game)

This was the beginning of the smoother mouth feel – and a spicier taste. There were several exclamations from the non-Scotch drinkers of pleasure when this delight hit their palettes. Our fourth pour was the 18 year old. If I could afford the $72.00 the North Carolina ABC charged for this bottle, I’d make IT my everyday Scotch. But – going through a bottle in a month – plus wine – makes this a rather expensive habit I’m forgoing so I can save myself in these wretched fiscal times – that I think will be sticking around longer than most boyfriends.

The final pour of the evening was yet another new taste for me. It was The Glenlivet’s “Archive” collection. Their 21 year old Scotch – that’s not available here in the ABC stores. (And may I just tell you how stupid this state is that requires all “hard liquor” to be sold through state stores – yet beer and wine may be purchased in retail outlets.) It doesn’t matter – even if the state DID carry this – I’m sure I couldn’t afford it. On the web prices range from $100-130/bottle.

I will say it is a very nice sip. Here are the tasting notes from the web-site.

PALATE Without water: Unctuous. Mouth-coating, almost syrupy. Full-bodied. Sultana cake. Ginger biscuits. Oak holds the reins back, releasing a drying spiciness. Cinnamon and ginger. A touch of hot paprika. Walnut and raisins dark chocolate.

With water: More sweetness but wood and fruit are not so well integrated. A watery gap at mid-palate. And a bitter note in the finish. Bare oakiness shows up a little blatantly.

FINISH Everlasting,warming. Nutty. Toasted hazelnuts. A full layer of liquorice.

Or … in laymen’s terms … YUMMY.

Besides the Scotch tasting – there was dinner too. Dark brown bread, Cottage pie (or what I’d call Sheppard’s pie), Beef and Guinness Pie, Roasted Root Vegetables, Roasted Potatoes, and Peach cobbler. All outstanding … except the cobbler.

While eating, sipping, talking and laughing – there was also a lot of gazing going on … because it was KILT night! Talk about mouthwatering! Men – young men, older men, smiling men – scary men … dressed in kilts – walking around fine as you please. And oh did it please!

The topper of the evening was listening to Albanach play. This is not your typical Drum and Pipe band. Their style of playing lands squarely in the “rock-out” tradition – with drummers dancing as the play – and not a staid glace in the bunch.

All in all, an A+ evening – especially for a “school night”

Friday Nights - FTW

Usually I am not much of a Friday night person. I look forward to wine, some food, Back Porch Music and an early bed time.

Last Friday my routine was changed. I meant to write about it earlier ... but (insert excuse here).

"The Dream Still Lives"

I had the best time last Friday night.

I got to see Spot!

My friend Mamie's husband belongs to Spot. I got an e-Mail announcing a Friday night gig ... and among other things it mentioned "the new Frank". In turn I invited my friend Meg (and a whole lot of other people) to join me, but only Meg took me up on the offer.

While making mygiddy plans to spend a Friday night out, Meg eMailed me back and asked, “So what kind of band is this?”

The question made me stop and consider … what type of band WOULD THIS BE?? I knew Mamie’s husband played the guitar. I knew he had a band that occasionally played at their church. So –they could be a "Good Band" – OR they could be“Not-So-Good-but-We’re-All-Polite-and-We’ll-Clap-Anyway” type band.

Being optimistic, I told Meg the band was in our age range and I was expecting blues and acoustical sets. Stuff we'd like.

After a great dinner with Meg and her husband (who is a loser and didn't join us afterwords), we headed out for the warehouse district. Spot's studios are in an artists' studio. It had exposed brick walls and this most amazing mural backdrop.There was a decent sized crowd ... (maybe 50 or 60 people), just friends of the band and friends of friends ranging in age from 30-70 years old. Everyone had BYOB and showed up to have a great time.

However, I didn't know what we were really getting into (at that point) ...so after Meg's questioning I was really worried about the band. I kept flashing back to high school garage bands. You know the type. They were made up of guys that were going to "live the dream and become a Rock Stars".

Although as you stood there, freezing your butt off in the garage, it was apparent the only reason you were there was because your best friend's boyfriend was in the band. True, they were enthusiastic. They had instruments and big dream. On the minus side, they also started every song 4 or 5 times. Between playing (partial songs) they had endless discussions about which song to sing next. After four hours of rehursing they'd sung four songs that you couldn't recognize. Because it was high school - you kept your thoughts to yourself although you thought what you were hearing was crap. (Because what if they DID become famous some day?)

So, my expectation was that I was going to hear a group of 40-plus year-old-high school guys play. (and I kicked myself for my enthusiasm)

BOY WERE MY EXPECTATIONS WRONG!

I had some details wrong. Durham (Mamie's husband) didn't play the guitar once. Instead, he's the keyboardist for this group and this night he was sitting behind this great Hammond B-3 with a Leslie. All the guys knew their way around the classic rock sets. Not only did they know the songs, they knew the order they were singing, and they never had to start a song a second time!

Besides Durham, there was a bassist with this great mop of curly hair, an elegant long face - and this intriguing looking mouth. As in any normal band, there was also the lead guitarist (the new "YOUNG" Frank aka Frank Gordon), a drummer (Bruce Sauls) and rhythm guitarist Mike Proctor.

In the first set, the song "Mustang Sally" with "the old Frank" singing set the evening's perma-grin on my face. From there the band moved onto the Ramon's "I Want to be Sedated", Led Zeplin's "Bring It on Home", Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman" ... and lots of other blues inspired, growling, good-time rock and roll songs. (Or song that sound like those listed. I wanted to get a play list, but I didn't - and I am crap at recognizing song titles and artists.)

At some point Meg wanted to know who owned the space since her former studio was in this same neighborhood. Mamie told us it was the bass player's loft. At the next break, Meg went up to the guitarist to find out who painted the mural - and more about his space and work. We found out the mural was painted by a young art student and left behind after Tom honored him with a cocktail party during a showing of his work.

And the bassist himself and his work? Turns out he's Thomas Sayre and he is the designer of the new Raleigh "Shimmer Wall" at the Convention Center. We were both endeared with him as he actually *blushed* as he admitted that the wall was one of his projects.

Standing in the crowd ... bopping to the music, I was taking notes, as random people walked in and out of the space. The ever changing spectators were drawn off the street by the music and the energy. I was busily jotting down impressions of the evening when this guy showed up!

A fun thing about hanging out with artists. They always add their own creativity to the evening. Meg, unable to resist the look of this guy - grabbed the notepad from my hand and began sketching. Looking up, then down at the pad, she made a line drawing. Finishing she handed the pad back to me and disappeared for a few minutes. Returning to my side, she had her own notepad and as she giggled and laughed she did line drawings of each band member, repeating over and over again, "This is so much fun! I've never done drawings like this before".

I think she caught their personalities - and the spontaneity of the evening perfectly. She kept those images with her, but I wouldn't be surprised to see them showing up in her art work in the near future.

Near the end of the evening Durham, sang an original song. Like all the other music of the evening it was great!

I loved seeing him sit behind his organ, face lit up with the joy of singing as he growled out the lyrics. I do believe I'm going to become a permanent Spot devote! It was great seeing these guys who are still "living the dream" (and 100 times better than most garage bands I sat through as a teenager).

We didn't get home 'till late that Saturday night - and I swore to myself "no more late Friday nights!" Especially when I have a 1/2 day of Saturday office work ahead of me (as I did last weekend - and this weekend).

I was going to keep that promise, until my friend Gina called me last night at 5:15.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asked.

"Nothing. Why? What are YOU doing?" I said.

I knew she was in Raleigh dog sitting this weekend - and I assumed she wanted to enjoy a bottle of wine with me.

"I have four, eighth row seats, to go see the Allman Brothers Band tonight. FOR FREE. Plus VIP Parking and free drink tickets. Wanna go?"

Now I ask you ... HOW CAN YOU TURN DOWN AN OFFER LIKE THAT? (even if it means breaking your promise to yourself.)

So we loaded up two other friends ... (Hi East! Hi! Chris!) and had a great time. (Read his blog for more about the music)

Now I must admit. I am not a huge Allman Brother's fan. I mean, certainly I've heard their music as I was growing up. I liked it. If you'd have pressed me though, I'd have had a hard time naming a single song of theirs - although I can pin down their sound.

Before leaving for the show, I went to YouTube to refresh my memory. I was thrilled to find they were the band behind Melissa, Jessica, and Midnight Rider. I also saw one of the song's titles was "Statesboro Blues" which holds some special memories for me since Statesboro, Georgia is a cotton city. Of all the songs they played, I think I enjoyed Soulshine the best.

You may not realize this, but I have a huge "weirdo magnet". Without meaning to, I often engage it because I will talk to strangers. It was on FULL FORCE last night.

During the evening I switched places with Gina and ended up standing at the end of our group (away from the aisle) - with two highly "energized" fans in standing in front of me. Beside me were two men close to my age. As the concert went on small quips and comments were traded back and forth between all of us.

As I said, the two guys next to me were slightly older than myself, but not more than four or five years. However, they apparently didn't realize this as they kept asking me, "What do you think of this type of music?" I figured they were asking because although I was standing and clapping in time to the music, I wasn't bobbing and weaving in that Grateful Dead/Phish manner. Finally, I felt I needed to clarify my age with them and I said, "It would be hard to grow up in the late 60's and early 70's in the Bay Area and not have heard this music." I wanted to indicate that I LIKED the music, but somehow I just felt like I was certifying "uptight and out of my element".

Still I was enjoying myself until I had this surreal conversation with one of the younger two fans standing in front of us. It began when he asked if I was older than twenty.

(And may I add a "WTF" here? I do not think on the BEST OF DAYS I look anywhere near an early twenty-year-old-woman. NOT TO MENTION that Gina and Chris are BOTH ten years younger than me and look/act MUCH more youthful. Especially last night and at this concert.)

So - anyway - there I stood. Ms. Chatty - who accepted a compliment on the pashmina I had thrown around my shoulders in a vain attempt to look "youthful" and "with it". The next thing I new, TY-ishF (The Young-ish Fan) was saying to me,

"Give me a kiss!"

In reply I gave him the death look.

"Come-on, kiss me! Just once? It would totally make my night," he said as he moved from the seating section in front of us and glommed onto my side.

Continuing to twitch to the music and staring at me, he said, "No? You won't give me one long kiss? Then how about a short one?"

"No?! May I kiss your cheek? I can't kiss your cheek?" His incredulous voice made it hard for me to keep a straight face, but I was already kicking myself for talking to a stranger ... and knew with any more encouragement I'd be in deep water. My stoic and unchanging stance led him to this time-worn line.

"You're beautiful. You know that right? You have amazing cheeks." Which earned him a snort from me. Taking this as encouragement he moved on to, "Can I kiss your earlobe? It will make you weak in the knees, I promise! Nooo?! How can you say that?"

All this time, my friends were off to the right - totally grooving on the long percussive transitional section of the concert where the three drummers totally got it on. Back in my own private hell, we'd moved onto,

"How about a hug then? I'll feel better if you'll hug me. Not even just a quick little hug?"

I declined all forms and time frames for exchanging hugs with him.

"You got a boyfriend don't you? A husband? Oh! Are you into women?" At this point I looked at him and said, "No - I hate ALL PEOPLE and I'm a crotchety old woman. Now leave me alone."

Finally, after I convinced him I wouldn't just "stare into his eyes for a few minutes" (no, not even for just 10 seconds, nor 5 seconds... or even GLANCE HIS WAY) he decided I was serious - and moved back to his row of seats ... and then sat there and pouted until his friends roused him into some more "dancing". (WITH OUT ME! yay!) Even while TY-ishF was annoying, I totally enjoyed the evening - and watching/hearing Gregg as he sat behind that B-3. The music and lyrics reminded me of SPOT and how I can't wait to hear them again. (where it appears I am safe from people thinking conversation is an invitation to soul kissing.) Maybe going out on Friday's isn't so bad (if you don't talk to strangers).

Blow Me

A week ago tonight I went to a concert. I invited my friend Mister Guitar, and he invited his friend, Sustainable Girl. I knew what to expect, they did not.

The concert was a fundraiser for IAJE, which the North Carolina Central University Jazz Ensemble and Vocal Ensemble have been invited to participate in January. Quite an honor.

When I issued the invitation, I didn’t give them any background. Just that it was free jazz concert and fundraiser for the college.

We arrived on campus and walked to the auditorium. I let Mister Guitar select the seats, as I figured he’d have the best idea about acoustics.

The director of the Jazz Studies Program at NCCU, Dr. Ira Wiggins is the ultimate professional. It is apparent how much he cares about these kids and this music. As the band took the stage, there he was wiggin’ on the sound. By that I mean he was adjusting each and every microphone for the front saxophone section – and the mic for the guest soloist. Once everything was arranged to his satisfaction, he turned to the audience, welcomed us – and then they were off.

The first set included Robot Portrait by Quincy Jones, Down by the Riverside by Oliver Nelson, and March Majestic by Bob Mintzer. This last piece had a definite New Orleans “Second Line” feel to it and it was fun to watch the trumpet section carrying out their own step.

The guest soloist for the evening was Derrick Gardner – and he stepped into the spot light as the band played John Coltrane’s A Night in Tunsisia. One of my all time favorite compositions. In the solo sections his sound took flight and filled that auditorium. Although it was easy to see how much fun he was having with this solo – and others throughout the evening, in every instance he was generous with the students, letting them shine.

A spectacular instance of this came at the end of the evening. The last piece was Giant Steps, another Coltrane song. Throughout it there were numerous solos for the students. One of the last was a drum solo. As the drummer hit his stride, he just took off – leaving the rest of the group behind. Banging and bashing, syncopating cymbals, snares, and bass in perfect combo. As you might guess, since the piece was a Coltrane vehicle, the true solo spot was for the trumpeter. But as Dr. Wiggins waved him in on his que, he declined, instead choosing to enjoy the enthusiasm and joyfulness of the percussion work. Now that’s a sign of musical respect and earned accolade, if you ask me.

Sitting here a week later, there is no way to convey what fun it was to watch these kids play. Let me tell you. This group is not your typical “school” ensemble. I mean, we’ve all suffered through enough of those, haven’t we? These kids were pro’s. And talk about spark and personality!

I have a soft spot for upright bassists. They just get my groove going. The bassist for the ensemble, AJ Brown, was magnificent. As I sat there in the dark, the wattage from my smile would have been enough to spotlight his talent. But it seems he doesn’t need my encouragement. Even though he is only a Junior, he’d just returned from a week of gigging with Wynton Marsalis at the Lincoln Center. How many of us could ever hope to be asked to sub for a regular in that band? To see him thump and flail on that instrument was too much fun. One moment his eyes were closed in the ecstasy of the moment, then the next – they were open wide, body shimming to the score. It was hard to stay in my seat and not start dancing in the aisles.

Another thing about the evening that caused my smile to broaden was two members of the saxophone section. Two young girls – blowing their brains out on a tenor saxophone and bari saxophone. Pretty impressive holding their own on solos against the guys. (not that I’m prejudice, or anything, you understand)

I have a page and a half of more notes from the evening – but instead of transcribing them I will just tell you, a week later I’m still smiling over the music and verve I experienced that night. This is high on the list of “Good Things About Living in the South”. I cannot wait for their next concert, nor the annual Valentines Concert they do in conjunction with Duke’s and UNC Chapel Hill’s Jazz Studies Programs.

Yep, I’m just blown away with their talent.

Miles of Miles

Not too long ago another friend and I had a brief discussion about our favorite jazz artists. Among the names mentioned were Bix Beiderbeck, Satchmo, Louisiana child protegee , Sidney Bechet, and Miles Davis.

So as I had those long drives last week (1,255 miles TOTAL to be exact) I listened to a few CD’s in my travel case. Miles happened to be in there twice. I thought it was very appropriate, driving miles – while listening to Miles.

Now Miles Davis is not always the most accessible of jazz musicians. Or at least for me. There is some of his stuff that veers off into directions that I think are only appreciated by other musicians. But as I drove those miles … these were my thoughts.

The first track that caught and help my attention (I had the CD player on “shuffle”), was the title track “Milestones”. I particularly like the way it moves from short quarter notes into half notes in the opening measures with the sax and trumpet – then the trumpet takes over. To listen along as I discuss this song, you can go here. This isn’t the original composition, but you’ll get the idea. Also, in the 9^th measure, you’ll start to hear some dissonance, which I’ll talk about later .. .BUT

Here’s what strikes me about this song, as Miles plays it.

Those notes .. the long ones – just hang out there – they remind me of blowing soap bubbles – they are so “luminous” and effortless. Now if you’ve ever blown into a horn, you’ll know it’s not that easy to achieve this quality. Seriously – it’s just like these big puffy sounds emerge – and then hang – and hang – and hang. It reminds me of watching snow ski jumping and how they hang in the air. The short notes? Those quarter notes (I don’t have the music in front of me, so forgive me if I’m inaccurate here) … they are so crisp and precise – just as if you were biting into an apple.

The next track on that disk (click down in the link and you'll find a sample) is Billy Boy.

This is another reason why I think I love jazz so much. It really makes me think. Most other music, I get caught up in the lyrics – and think about the emotions the singer/songwriter are trying to invoke. But here? And often with instrumental jazz, a whole different thought process is begun.

I begin to wonder “What makes a song”? In this case – the song is an old classic – a childhood song listened to over and over again sung by Burl Ives. But here? It is 100% different, yet the same. I mean, the minute it begins to play, I know it is “Charming Billy/Billy Boy” – yet, it doesn’t quite match the “pattern” of the song I grew up with. The tempo is completely different – the melody is hidden, and teased, and subverted – yet through all those manipulations, I still know I’m listening to ‘Billy Boy”.

HOW do they do that? For miles and miles I can listen to this music and try and pick it out. How does the piano player know he can play those chords, yet be true to the integrity of the song? How can a drum solo mimic with no other instruments the melody of a song so perfectly – that even starting this track in the middle of one of those solos, I know instantly the song. And then in the next stanza, it dissolves completely … and there is not recognition of the original song … it’s wandered off on another path. Yet two measures later … here we are – back at a sign post I completely recognize!

Switching CD’s, I plug in Miles Davis Quartet of ‘Round Midnight, and once again, I am stuck in the 4^th track, “Bye Bye Blackbird ”. I wonder, what about improvisation. What are the rules, and how much of the music can a soloist “break”, yet still retain the song? Not only that – but I marvel at how well the members of the group must know each other in order to improvise like this on Ah-Leu-Cha. At the right cue, each member takes off in his own direction – wanders around, messes with melody, harmony, and timing, and then they all return – cohesive, to split up again.

That's the thing about dissonance that gets me too. How can these notes - notes that don't match, be considered music? Sometimes I like them ... and the way they dissolve and come back together. Other times? I feel like I'm not smart enough to "get it" ..and it's just racket in my brain. All mumbley, jumbley, and not really music.

This happens with other groups and songs too. I particularly get interested when vocals are added. The great Sarah Vaughn sings in-front of, and behind, the phrasing of “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love ” and also here in “Somewhere Over the Rainbow ”. How does she do it? No one claims she has bad timing – and it fits together perfectly. But when I do it??? I get yelled at for not matching the beat. (also? I can't sing in tune .. so I don't really think it's the rhythm thing)

The more I listen to jazz, the more I feel like I’m standing in the kitchen of a Cordon Bleu trained chef. Someone who has such an intimate knowledge of each ingredient, that they can break down each quality of composition – and play around. Get at the real taste, essence of a taste/sound – and present it for me to savor in unexpected ways. Actually, using the cooking metaphor, I think jazz is more like California Cuisine. The chefs learned all the French techniques and sauces – then stripped them away to leave the essence of the ingredient/sound … and they pick the very best sounds/tastes – and lay them on a platter – bare – or barely adorned, for me to sample.

Not only are my taste buds and ears pleased with this compositional style, but my mind is well satisfied too. Hour after hour of traveling, I have sounds/rhythms/topics to unravel – taste, admire, mull over – and then enjoy. Yeah, I know – some of you just want to be moved. Taken away from your thoughts – have your emotional buttons pushed, your anger and pain released. I like that too, but I like the way jazz makes me think about it.

Miles of Miles – what better way to spend 8 hours from here to there?

Jazz – Makes my day better

If you love iconic jazz, classic jazz and current jazz, REAL jazz – not easy listening puke, I highly recommend these to streaming stations. I listen to them continually at home on the radio – and at work.

WSHA – Shaw University

http://www.wshafm.org/listen_to_wish.htm

WNCU – North Carolina Central University

http://www.wncu.org/ (click on “on-air) icon

Weekend programming at these stations moves away from jazz and to formates including African Music, Hip-Hop, Blues, and Community Service Programming – so then I hop on over to:

KPLU – Pacific Lutheran University

http://www.kplu.org/ (click on “on-air” stream upper left-hand corner)

KJAZZ – California State University at Long Beach

http://www.jazzandblues.org/programming/listen/

These stations help me to stay productive. (And work is grateful for this, let me tell you!).

Look at me – all morning working, working, working – and not procrastinating, procrastinating, procrastinating!

Hope your day is going well too.

Seasons tickets to the symphony *sniff*

It’s something all “the best people” have. *sniff, sniff*

And then there's me!

Would you expect to hear music performed by artists who describe their style as, “Somewhere between a 1930’s Cuban dance orchestra, a classical chamber music ensemble, a Brazilian marching street band and accompaniment for Japanese film noir at the symphony? No? I bet a large majority of season ticket holders for the North Carolina Symphony weren’t expecting that either! There are many ways to measure the success of a performance. Watching “Raleigh’s finest” conga down the isles of the symphony to the eclectic musical mix assured me the performance was not just successful, but astounding.

What group managed to levitate the patrons out of their seats? Why Pink Martini, of course! Who are they? “They” are a little orchestra from Portland Oregon led by a punk Liberace with happy feet. The punk Liberace is Thomas M. Lauderdale, a classically trained pianist and Harvard graduate. Behind him is an ensemble who’s concerts are a world tour of languages and rhythms.

The performance began with the symphony and Assistant conductor Joan Landry setting the tone of the evening with Manuel de Fall’s, Ritual Fire from “El Amor Brujo” (which by the way doesn’t translate to the “Love Witch” but more closely to “Love, the Magician.”). This Spanish piece called to mind scenes of the Moors and their epic travels. Leaving Spain we traveled to a Italy and enjoyed the “Roman Carnival Overture” via Hector Berlioz. Then it was onto Brazil with a Carlos Jobim arrangement of TheGirl from Ipanema, and finally back to France via Cole Porter selections from Can-Can.

We’d already been around the world by the intermission, but when Pink Martini took the stage, we headed for the universe. Backed by the North Carolina Symphony they started off their musical escape with Maurice Ravel’s Bolero. This piece of music always manages to stir my blood as I imagine wind swept sand dunes and endless desert vistas to appear before me. Plus, I think it’s sexy music. What a waste of instrumentation on a night I knew I’d be coming home to myself.

Next Pink Martini hopped over to a Carmen Miranda piece from the 50’s before opening with their first original number Anna (el negro zumbon) – a Brazilian laced samba who’s rhythm made it difficult to stay seated. It wasn’t just difficult for me. Watching pianist Thomas Lauderdale’s happy left foot dance as he played the Steinway grand let me know this wasn’t going to be any staid symphony experience.

Of course, you do know I always have to sit next to a weirdo, right? This performance was no different. Throughout the performance, this dandruff-flaking gentleman fidgeted. First with his NOT quiet nylon parka, then extracting his opera glasses. He was quiet for a few minutes until he leaned over to his partner to inform her the quality on the QVC spectacles was superb – especially when you consider their $3.49 price. Fortunately the dark-chocolate rich vocals of China Forbes were able to muffle the most annoying of patrons.

Music has a story to tell. Sometimes you know the it by the content of the lyrics and sometimes there’s a back story. A photo of a garden, led to the song “Gardens of Sampson and Beasley”. China explained the photo belonged to Lauderdale and was of an extensive garden maintained by his friends Sampson and Beasley. If her molten voice and statuesque physique weren’t enough to earn my admiration, China Forbes’ skill of singing and song writing in multiple languages certainly was. Throughout the performance she and the other vocalists moved flawlessly from French, to Portuguese, to Italian without misstep. The most impressive was when Lauderdale mentioned China had been working with a professor from the University of Portland to learn the proper pronunciation for the Arabian love song, entitled “Tomorrow and the day after” (except in Arabic).

After presenting 15 songs, the band wrapped up its performance with a rousing number – in which they encourage the audience to get out of their seats and begin a conga line in the hall. Who would have believed Raleigh season ticket holder *sniff* would indeed conga up and down the isles?

Worth a Smile!

Click here - and smile at the silliness! (and if you don't smile, DON'T tell me!)

Music, the Decent & the Café Court

Music

Emotion later informed by knowledge. This is how I approach the fine arts. I see, hear, react and report. Many times I, “don’t get it”. I see, hear, or read something and it makes no sense to me. I do not understand why a vile of piss and the picture of the pope are considered art. I do however understand these elements meant something to the artist – and the artist was compelled to share the meaning. Some artists communicate better than others. Some have a message which speaks to a larger portion of the population – some artists have a message for a smaller segment. Sometimes the message is clear, other times it’s only apparent if you have the secret “decoder ring”. What does the pragmatist in me say about the artistic endeavor? I believe there are perceptive business people who have no insight to share, but understand the financial rewards behind mass appeal and mass production.

I hold season tickets to the symphony. Do you know what the best part of the symphony is for me? I bet you can’t guess. Nope, it’s not the music – although that is the reason I attend. Mr. Llewellyn’s cute butt? Certainly attractive, but not worth a season subscription. I attend for the half-hour pre-concert lecture. Although I took band in high school, I have no vast, nor informed, knowledge of orchestral or symphonic music. In fact, I’m not even sure the difference between the two categories. What I do know is some music transports me – just as some paintings, photographs, novels and plays transport me - to another place. Learning about a specific composer, the history which informs his style and intent of the music allows me to appreciate, and perhaps make a more educated decision, about certain selections that otherwise might not appeal to me.

Take the Schubert selections from last night. I have heard of Schubert. I’m sure I’ve even listened to Schubert in the past. Could I tell you a single thing about him, or name a single piece of his music, before last night? Nope. Did I like or understand everything I heard? Ehhhh. Parts were good, parts were great, and then – a few sections? If it was a take it or leave it decision, I might have left parts of the program behind. One thing I would have kept? His Offertorium in B-flat and Mass No. 6 in E-Flat Major.

Why? Because they were explained to me. Because the explanation made sense and I could trace the arc of development. (Also – they handed out the Latin translation – and I could follow along with the Duke Choral.)

We wandered through the Kyrie, the Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei. And what pray tell are they? If you’re a good Catholic – it’s the basis of every mass. If you are of the Protestant faith, they’re still familiar.

The Kyrie … you know “Kyrie Eleison” … made popular by Mr. Mister in the 80’s? Frequently and improperly translated as “Carry a Laser”? … Because you know that’s what Luke Skywalker was doing then!

In Latin it translates into “Lord have mercy.” In Mass it’s followed by, “Christe eleison” or “Christ have mercy”. When we pray to God, it’s how we begin. Lord have mercy on me. Christ have mercy on me. We ask God to take pity on us, to hear our pleas and be merciful in His judgement.

This is followed by the Gloria. Literally a telling of God’s glory. Listen closely and you will hear words contained in many Christmas hymms.

Glory to Go in the highest … Gloria in excelsis Deo … and on earth peace to men of good will … et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. We praise thee, we bless thee .. Laudamus te, benedicums te, … we worship thee, we glorify thee …adoramus te, glorificamus te … we give thanks to thee …Gratias agimus tibi ..for thy great glory … prpter magnua gloriam taum.

Lord God, heavenly king, …Domine Deus, rex coelestis … God the Father Almighty. …Deus Pater omnipotens. … Lord, the only-begotten Son Jesus Christ; …Domine Fili unigenite Jesu Christe; …Lord God, Lamb of God, … Domine Deus, Agnus Dei … Son of the Father, Filius Patris … who takest away the sins of the world … qui tollis peccata mundi, … have mercy upon us; … miserere nobis;

As the choir sang these words – in multi-part harmonies, looping back on themselves, stressing a word or phrase here and there – the beauty of the Mass was revealed to me. The meaning was that much richer for me, knowing as I did now, that in the early church, no music was allowed to accompany these words. Indeed, in the early days the words were monotone, but with a specific tempo – so the supplicants mind would never wander from the meaning of the phrase. Time went by and layers of harmony were added, slowly musical instrumentation was added. The emotional arc of what was being chanted was highlighted by the music – enhanced, not hidden by the addition of multi-part singing and instruments.

For thou only art holy; Quoniam tu solus sanctus; … thou only art the Lord; tu solus Dominus; … thou only art the most high, Jesus Christ, … tu solus altissimus, Jesu Christe, … with the Holy Spirit, … cum sancto Spiritu, … in the glory of God the Father. Amen. … in Gloria Dei Patris. Amen

The Credo follows the Glory. Another touchstone to my faith, “I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible ….

In turn the Credo is followed by the Sanctus … the translation? Holy, Holy, Holy …Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus … Lord God of Hosts, Dominus Deus Sabaoth … Heaven and earth are full of thy glory. …Pleni sunt coeli et terra Gloria tua … Hosanna in the highest! … Osanna in excelsis! . Then the Benedictus and finally the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God).

So bottom line – last night was good. I learned something, I could related to the composers intent, I understood how it fit historically – and therefore it was an enjoyable evening.

The Decent

An adjective I use to describe myself is “mercurial”. Two of it’s meanings are:

3. Having the qualities of shrewdness, eloquence, or thievishness attributed to the god Mercury.
4. Changeable in temperament or mood; temperamental; volatile.

Some days it’s too apt of a description. The morning I was up early. I drank coffee, read the newspaper, ate breakfast, cleaned the kitchen and began my laundry. The sun was out – cheery and shiny – and I had a mood to match … for a while. Then, without warning or prompting, my disposition changed. Gone was the anticipation, the joy and satisfaction with my morning. Swiftly and without delay, I plunged into a place of darkness and despair. I cannot tell you what caused the decent. I only know it was swift. Within two hours I was living in a bleak world and my life was equally without joy or meaning.

I hate when I plunge into these pits. I know not what sends me there … nor how long before the cloud lifts. Besides hating the fact I don’t know what causes me to experience these lows, I hate the fact I loose control over myself. No amount of self-will can change the course – and I am helpless to hide the emotional havoc they wreck on my soul.

Today I was lucky, for two reasons. First, I had an appointment which required me to leave the house – and “get out of my mind.” You see, sometimes distraction can keep me from dwelling and descending further into the pit. Secondly, I have friends who I can let know when I’m heading to the pit. Friends who stand by my side – who make a simple offer of companionship – and stand guardian through the struggle.

The Café Court

Is a new group of friends. With each passing gathering, the circle grows wider, and I am introduced to more of their number. Today, as I sat amidst these men – the jesters of the court – they all tossed out a witty bons mots or observations for my pleasure. Presenting me with a story – a gift of themselves. Each was eager to make me smile and laugh. As I sat there they drew near, changing the shape of the circle so soon they were all hovering near. A laugh, a smile, the quick catch of an eye. And soon, without realizing it, their attention – sincere and honest – elevated me out of the pit and back into the sunlight.

At the end of the evening one of them said, “If I were bolder, younger, and more dashing, I’d ask for your number and the price of your company for a night.” And I, with a smile told him, that I might give him my number, but politeness would require me to name a price too high, so I would never have to be rude and turn him down.

With a smile and a bow he said, “Oh, you are a worthy one to be gathered here with us, and we shall have to be careful of your wit, and make sure it doesn’t outstrip us.” And in that moment I felt like a Queen with courtiers at my feet, and made a little vow to never let them down.

So although they don’t know it, thank you to the courtiers of the Café Court. You kind sirs, are worth your weight in gold to me and I feel honored week after week to be invited to sit in your midst.

Shubert

Just in case I get in too late after the Symphony, here's a post! NC Symphony has been Celebrating Shubert in November. Tonight our too cute conductor is leading the symphony in Schubert's Farewell: The Miraculous Final Year, Part Two Grant Llewellyn, Music Director Ignat Solzhenitsyn, piano Heather Buck, soprano Krista River, mezzo-soprano James Taylor, tenor Robert Bracey, tenor Christopheren Nomura, bass Choral Society of Durham Program:

• Schubert: Offertorium, D.963, “Intende voci”
• Schubert: Piano Sonata in A Major, D.959
• Schubert: Mass in E-flat Major, D.950