Torke Tantrum

Since when did contemporary composers of art music acquire the impudence of popular rock stars? Headlining the annual festival Music 0X, award-winning Michael Torke was scheduled to participate in this collaborative celebration of new music, showcasing works of students, teachers, and professionals. But professional hardly describes Torke’s unexpected retreat from the festival just hours before his own featured concert. Slated to perform and exhibit several of his compositions, Torke’s penchant for intolerance and fear of a tarnished reputation exceeded that usually afforded artists in the uncertain market of new music. Displeased with the progress of the rehearsals, the angered perfectionist hopped a plane in breach of contract.

In a 1992 concert in Montreal Guns n’ Roses headman, Axl Rose, made a similar dash amongst thousands of fans. Rose was reportedly frustrated with the performance. But despite the original band’s break-up and the replacement of metal by grunge and alternative rock in the early ‘90s, Rose had little to lose by his actions. The band had already secured their continual reputation and amassed millions of dollars in concert and album sales. Furthermore, a devious nature is the attitude par excellence of rock. When you’re raking in the dough, and still living in the heyday of popularity, you can leave the manners and professionalism to others.

Like other contemporary composers, however, Torke is very much concerned with reaching audiences. Where the avant-garde trends of the twentieth century distanced the artist from public appeal, the new millennium marks a definite return to acceptance and inclusion. Even though Torke’s style is regarded as tonal, engaging, and marked by an embrace of popular styles, few will hear his works outside the expected circles. At Music 0X, Torke’s audience was made up of colleagues, not consumers. The participants of the festival support the cause by attending each other’s concerts. They are the future program directors, faculty, and critics who could keep Torke’s music in the repertoire. As concert halls continue to dwindle in patronage and attendance, the creators must stick together to keep their art alive.

Tom Petty Smokes the Grassy Lawn at Riverbend

Last week Tom Petty and the Hearbreakers made a stop along the Ohio River to feed hits to a diverse crowd. It has been almost 30 years since the blonde's debut, and he has a catalogue of fan favorites that can be matched by few. Before introducing some new music, Petty quickly secured the concert's thunderous reception with "Free Fallin'" and "I Won't Back Down." For teen hipsters to Woodstock gray beards, clouds of "You Don't Know How it Feels" and "Last Dance with Mary Jane" permeated the pavillion's lawn. Even after a few risky covers (like Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away") and some tunes in the works, Petty and his Heartbreakers had no chance of loosing this crowd. An encore of "You Wreck Me" and "American Girl" sealed the deal.

What made the show even more successful was the return of the Black Crowes. Their perpetual feud on hold, the brothers Robinson jammed on the stage and made Cincinnatians boogie their hearts out. Even Kate Hudson was there to support Chris. I'm a bit "Jealous" I didn't have the seats she had.

Concerts of long-time greats like Petty makes us wonder if the artist will ever be able to satisfy crowds with new music. Tom informed the audience that a future album was in the works; but had he performed even half the songs of that project, the concert would have diminished in its energy. Could Paul McCartney get away with substituting some new material for "Hey Jude" and "Yesterday"? Could Clapton complete a concert having not played "Layla" or "Sunshine of My Love"? Jam bands like Phish and fan-club driven groups like REM work hard to make each concert a unique collaboration of hits, covers, new material, improv, and B-sides. But their crowds are supported by fanatics, groupies, and roadies. Ticket buyers for acts like Tom Petty will mostly likely see the show only once. They may not have purchased one of his albums for years, or may not even own one. Radio and video familiars are what they demand. The more the better.

Levine conducts Berlioz, eats chili

Concluding this spring's May Festival, NY-MET conductor, James Levine, headed the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra and May Festival Chorus in Berlioz's Requiem. With his iconic fro, the former May Festival director returned to a large, welcoming crowd. Since his appointment in New York, Levine has conducted over 70 operas in over a thousand performances. In addition to guest conducting all over the globe, Levine's jolly grin adorns covers of dozens of classical music recordings. This recent performance demonstrates his ability to comfortably conduct other large performing forces than those of opera.

Although my view was limited due to the support pillars of Music Hall's balconies, I was still able to observe the performance quite well. Before the concert, as I scoped out the audience seated with me in the first balcony, I nodded to my colleagues who were all positioned behind pillars themselves. Student-discount tickets in hand, we made for colorful stripes of youth behind each obstruction among the sea of white-haired bodies.

One of my former students was seated in front of me. As we exchanged a few quick jokes, she reported that Levine had been sighted earlier in the day in the Clifton Gaslight district, just north of the University of Cincinnati's campus. According to her, Levine made two ritual stops at Cincinnati favorites Graeter's ice-cream and Skyline Chili on Ludlow Ave. Although I too enjoy visiting my favorite spots when I return to my hometown (in NC), Levine managed to indulge in Cincy's most health-threatening and stamina-breaking treats.

The afternoon snacks certainly didn't boost the Maestro's energy for the concert. Although Levine is not as young as he used to be, and has reportedly started conducting from a chair, he failed to demonstrate the vibrant command of the ensemble. The slower tempos could certainly be of aesthetic preference, but the excitement of the antiphonal brass exchanges were not mirrored by the gestures of the conductor. Overall the performance was polished. The blend of the brasses, voices, and strings rung well in the hall. My only criticism of the performers is toward the wind family, where intonation and unity of color and articulation left much to be desired. Nevertheless, Levine received a 7 minute ovation after the concert and returned to the stage no fewer than 4 times to bow to the audience. This is an impressive reception, even for Cincinnatians who love to dish out "bravo" like it is going out of style.

Le Tombeau de Mrs. Robinson

The original MILF. A tribute to Anne Bancroft. We all remember Simon and Garfunkel's tune in the 1967 film The Graduate. In a world where Tom Cruise courts Katie Holmes, Dustin Hoffman's infamous affair with the mother of his childhood sweetheart reminds us of the timeless allure of older women. Without Bancroft's stellar performance, a thousand utterances of "your mom" during my junior high years would have meant little to our young, pubescent minds.

Hot Hot Heat Blazes Bogarts

I recently saw Hot Hot Heat perform at Bogarts. Thanks to my good buddy in Wilmington, NC for recommending them to me! The band hails from Vancouver, B.C., and their tour follows the release of their second studio album, Elevator, which they produced with a major label (Sire). Make up the Breakdown, their first album, was released by Sub Pop, the famous Seattle-based label that recorded Nirvana's Bleach and the music of other grunge acts. Hot Hot Heat, however, falls into a different genre. Whereas the 90s adamently rejected much of the 80s, the new millennium seems to be finding its way back to the sound of New Wave. Groups like the Killers and Franz Ferdinand are also bringing this retro sound to the mainstream.

Hot Hot Heat's sound is more gritty and simplistic than some of the other 80s-inspired groups that tend to rekindle the denser synthesized textures of Duran Duran and the Psychodelic Furs. Yet Hot Hot Heat's songs are very catchy and tuneful. At the show, the lead singer, Steve Bays, pranced around the stage like a true pop star. I was a bit shocked by the Roger Daltrey fro and neck scarf he donned. But this overall montage of influences makes the band perfect for the hipster crowd.

Hot Hot Heat's audience at the concert surprised me. Perhaps the band's recent invitation to the world of MTV has introduced them to droves of teens. Unlike other performances at Bogarts where I fit in well among college students and twenty-somethings, I felt ancient at this show. Aside from the slew of minivans that transported much of the audience home after the show, I also found myself alone in the beer line. Still, I'm happy to see such a young crowd interested in good music. Better they're at Bogarts to see Hot Hot Heat than at the Pavilion to see Hillary Duff.

Simulating Sin City

I finally saw Sin City. Although I had not read much of the Sin City graphic novels, I remain a huge fan of Frank Miller's work with Batman. Still, while my comic book interests remain in a period of hibernation, I would not dare venture into territories where I am not up-to-speed in fear of lightsaber burns and a D8 + 1 damage to my armor class. Therefore, today's post remains from the perspective of a tardy filmgoer.

A colleague in the musicology department and I traveled to the neighborhood art theater, perhaps the only venue in the city still playing the movie. Even though such an action-packed picture is best suited for stadium seating, gigantic screens, and THX sound, I figured the local cinema would do its best to satisfy any digitally spoiled customers. I was wrong. To my surprise, the film ran in their smallest theater with a screen that couldn't hold its own against some flatscreens on sale at Sears. I don't think there were even enough seats in the theater to accommodate the starring cast of the movie.

Visually, I was extremely impressed. The black and white cinematography contributed to the nostalgic feel of the setting, and the subtle introduction of color harked back to Spielberg's accomplished Schindler's List while simultaneously mocking the sappy color bleeding of Pleasantville. My biggest criticism is that the picture failed to pique my interest in the plot(s). Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino (who is listed as a special-guest director) rattled the film world with their movies over a decade ago. However, they have not moved on. The popularity of Reservoir Dogs and the El Mariachi films has made their excessively violent, yet cool and comical, style cliche. For many who are aware of my current obsession with 1940s film noir, you can understand where my tastes have recently been chiseled. The suspense of these classics gains effectiveness in carefully unraveling the plot slowly, so that the arrival of the climactic close comes as a shock. Sin City is too dependent on unworldly, non-stop action to drive its stories. Of course, the film is only a stylized noir, replete with voice over narration and a sultry tenor-sax soundtrack (credited to Rodriguez). The framing of individual narratives adequately follows the comic book tradition, but unfortunately the result seems more like a feigned imitation of Pulp Fiction's segmentation than a faithful reproduction of the graphic novels.