WDAV

Recording sessions for a new series of The Main Street Sessions are underway!

There are some thrilling performances in store: A young classical guitarist pours himself into Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez, a countertenor transports us back to the 16th century, a luxurious contralto voice delivers songs by Charles Ives in all their gorgeous quirkiness and a Julliard-trained composer deftly splits his time between concert halls and nightclubs.

I'm especially excited about the recording session I have scheduled for tomorrow. There won't be any music. That's right. No music. See, there isn't any...

...yet.

Charlotte-based composer, David Crowe, has been commissioned by Alan and Donna Black to write a piece for a First Tuesday Concert scheduled for January 2 as part of the Chamber Music at St. Peter's 10th Anniversary Concert Series. David has agreed to let me follow him through the process from commission to performance. He is coming in tomorrow for the first in a series of interviews that will take us along with him as he composes.

The music is to be based on paintings by Russian artist Nicholas Roerich--work David knows well, but work which, as he commented in a recent email to me, is presenting David with some unexpected challenges. What are those challenges? I can only imagine and can't wait to find out.

Have a look at the artist's work and let me know what you think David might be up against (and what's in here that might work to his advantage). A list of links to the specific paintings David's considering is at the bottom of this entry.

I'll fill you in after our conversation. And of course, keep an ear out for The Main Street Sessions come the first of the year. You'll be able to hear the piece from true start to finish.

The Last Angel
Bridge of Glory
St. Panteleimon the Healer
Star of the Morning
Kanchenjunga
Sergius the Builder (From here, click on "Series and Suites", then "Banners of the East 1924-25" and scroll down.)

Posted by Jennifer Foster at 9:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Why is watching classical music on TV so boring? I don't care if it's Classic Arts Showcase or Michael Tilson Thomas or the BBC Proms DVD I have at home, I cannot watch a classical music concert on TV without falling asleep or, worse, simply losing interest ...

Before you make with the jokes about people falling asleep at the concerts themselves, that's something I don't have a problem with. I find being there much more interesting than watching it on TV.

In fact, I decided after the recent Bob Dylan concert in Davidson with the two guys standing in front of me the whole time that I like classical concerts much better than rock concerts. The seats are more comfortable, you can actually see the performers, or you can close your eyes and sleep if you choose. Lately I'm more interested in doing that, anyway.

Rock concerts for me are a little like football games now. I actually went to see the Panthers exhibition game last Thursday with my son. Maybe it was the bundle I dropped for parking and food (the tickets were free, at least), maybe it was the fact that I almost had a coronary by the time I climbed to my seat just under the West end scoreboard (the tickets were free, after all), maybe it was the lady beside us with her face painted and the clackers who shrieked incomprehensibly and clacked through the entire game. But I think I'd rather take the money I'd spend just on the season tickets and get a wide screen TV instead.

But not for watching classical music concerts!

Posted by Frank Dominguez at 1:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

I was a college student studying in Vienna at the time. I was on my way to class at the University. The dramatic display of grief on the face of the opera house took my breath away. I didn't learn until later in the day that those black drapes were crying about Leonard Bernstein.

I'll never forget the sight.

Where were you? Do you remember how you learned of Bernstein's death and what you were doing at the time? How did the news strike you? Did it send you to your record collection? Did it bring back memories of concerts? I'd love to hear your stories.

Posted by Jennifer Foster at 11:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

In radio, time is always running out. Here’s something I’ll bet you didn’t know: in radio, it takes seven seconds for a fresh silence to wilt into dead air. How do I know it's seven? I know my seconds. I know my minutes. I've been watching counters on CD players four hours a day every weekday for a collected seven years. Like it or not, I have developed an uncanny sense of time. When I tell someone when I'll be arriving, I tell them I'll be there at 3:12 p.m. I'll be right. They'll be amazed. When my son wants to know how long before dinner will be ready, I'll answer "seventeen and a half minutes". And I'll be right. And he'll be amazed.

On the job, I know if there are three minutes and twelve seconds of music remaining, I have time to walk from the on-air studio to the kitchen, fill a glass with water, drink half of it, circle by the mail room, pull an announcement off the printer, share a laugh with a co-worker and get back into the studio with fifty-eight seconds left to figure what on earth I'm going to say when the music ends. Forty-two seconds provide just enough time to go online and pull up the pronunciation for a composer's name you and I have never seen, much less heard. Thirty-three seconds and I can get the current temperature for you instead of fudging it. Which, I confess, I've done. Twice.

There was a time at WDAV when on-air hosts answered the telephone. In retrospect, that was a screw-loose idea.

These were not calls we solicited, mind you. They were routine radio station calls which can range from the innocent inquiry to the nuclear meltdown. There were times when forty-two seconds on the CD counter meant I had forty-one to shake off a diatribe by a listener who despised ragtime. Thirty-three seconds might mean bouncing back from a paranoid-schizophrenic threatening to take me to court for talking about him on the air.

Part of me truly misses answering the phone at the station. There were other calls--the "What was that beautiful choral piece you just played and how can I buy it?" calls, the "Did I just hear you say Percy Grainger lived with his mother until she died?" calls--the calls that let me know you were there; that you were thinking about and interested in what was on the air. Pleasant or unpleasant, affirming or deflating, the calls made radio two-way communication.

That’s what this blog is intended to do, minus the distraction of having to watch the seconds tick away. I’m excited about it. It gives me the chance to share more with you about music and about what's going on in our arts community. More importantly, it re-opens your lane on this two-way street. Fire away. (Easy on the diatribes.) Post comments. Ask questions. Share ideas. As soon as I roll the next piece, I'll reply. But only when I have at least six minutes and fifty-four seconds of music remaining.

Posted by Jennifer Foster at 3:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)