intrigue

as the summer wears on, my life has begun to take shape. of late, i've been involved with the institute and festival for contemporary performance at mannes (concert details on my site here), where freelance contemporary musicians gather to work intensively for 10 days. while in the building, one has the sense of new music limbo, a plane that is rarely interrupted by outsiders. i've been on the prowl for work; i've come to the realization that i need something flexible to accommodate my various projects, be it curating chamber performances with guitarist jordan dodson and conductor/percussionist kyle ritenauer, developing concepts with composer/dancer anne goldberg, improvising on tunes of hildegard von bingen with bassist lisa dowling and electric guitarist charlie rauh, or ruminating on solo recital ideas for the winter.

running on fumes, underslept and underpaid, this is the life i have chosen for myself. a sage friend recently articulated the philosophy that we should do what we're passionate about. in the city that never sleeps, there are endless creative possibilities and ever-expanding artistic communities; the challenge is to negotiate a distinctive and committed identity - a bright light that shines through the fray.

kandinsky, color study of squares

sleeping to dream

i checked out the brooklyn-based sleeping giants show the other night at littlefield; bits of it were entertaining but not earth-shattering. i could have had less of ted hearne screaming mixed up pop lyrics with live electronics and more of violinist tema watstein providing echoes of italian cathedrals.

but really, folks, these days i sleep deeply, idly dreaming of scenes i can't have in the city. here are a few more by elizabeth bishop.

Elizabeth Bishop, "Summer's Dream"

To the sagging wharf

few ships could come.

The population numbered

two giants, an idiot, a dwarf,

a gentle storekeeper

asleep behind his counter,

and our kind landlady—

the dwarf was her dressmaker.

The idiot could be beguiled

by picking blackberries,

but then threw them away.

The shrunken seamstress smiled.

By the sea, lying

blue as a mackerel,

our boarding house was streaked

as though it had been crying.

Extraordinary geraniums

crowded the front windows,

the floors glittered with

assorted linoleums.

Every night we listened

for a horned owl.

In the horned lamp flame,

the wallpaper glistened.

The giant with the stammer

was the landlady’s son,

grumbling on the stairs

over an old grammar.

He was morose,

but she was cheerful.

The bedroom was cold,

the feather bed close.

We were awakened in the dark by

the somnambulist brook

nearing the sea,

still dreaming audibly.

zoom

yesterday i attended a first tuesday cma seminar on group identity. this will be useful in articulating the mission of our collective, which debuted in may. it's interesting to think of chamber music as a family - in collaborative musical relationships, as in friendships, there here has to be a kind of tensile synergy that encourages dialogue. successful projects are ones that convey that energy in a meaningful and accessible way. i suppose this is a *no duh* moment for many of us, but it's something to which every ensemble - ou bien, relationship - should strive.

the days wear long and hot-i find evenings better times to get a lot accomplished.

looking forward to my bandmates' performance of messiaen's quatuor pour la fin du temps at brooklyn conservatory this evening; should be transcendent.

uncut

last night i attended a double cd release at the gershwin hotel (contagious sounds series) - andy akiho, a steel panner who graduated with the first class of msm's cpp now on innova, and vicky chow, pianist of bang on a can, on zorn's tzadik label. it was packed (no surprise)-i was particularly taken with the quality of musicianship. andy's band played like a jazz group that has gigged weekly for decades, and vicky ripped through ryan francis's roaringly difficult piano etudes as if hanging a sweater out to dry on a windy day. the film that showed between sets, of andy and cellist mariel roberts, was incredible. the director had an eerie way of spinning the angles (outside, on some rooftop that looked like the bronx on a grey semi-spring sunday) like a wizard. i missed the end of it, but it will be posted next week sometime on andy's website. his music took me to a beach where polyrhythms were mixed into the tequila shots and complex timbres were the salt rimming the margarita glasses. really guys, impressive.

i'm trying to balance my life these days - alternating between downtown shows and quiet brooklyn evenings; my sleep schedule, ever since the cornelia st. gig with neoLIT has been bizarre. i need to get back to this time zone somehow by sunday...