Problems with Wax

O Magnum Mysterium; Chamber Choir of Europe; Nicol Matt; Conductor; Morten Lauridsen, composer

I remember reading about the Willard Intercontinental Hotel at 1401 Pennsylvania Ave. NW when reading up on what Washington, DC, had to offer for tourists in 1988. The old girl had just received a multi-million dollar refurbishment in 1986. She has an illustrious history. The property on which she sits served as a hotel site for years, even before the site was bought by Henry Willard in 1850. Julia Ward Howe wrote the words to “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” here in 1861. Also, that year, amid threats of assassination, President-elect Lincoln was smuggled into to town and into the Willard to conduct business before his inauguration. Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote his “I have a dream” speech in his hotel room at the Willard in 1963 in the days leading up to the March on Washington.

My three favorite buildings in Washington, DC, are the Union Station, the Old Executive Office Building and the Willard. The Willard is an absolutely beautiful building. So you can imagine my excitement when I started playing gigs there in 1999.

They have a room that they call the Crystal Room: high ceilings, murals, fluted pilasters, green scagliola columns and crystal chandeliers and sconces create an opulent and intimate turn of the century environment. Many weddings occur here. And I have played many weddings here.

During one such wedding, an elaborate candle tree hovered over the piano and the pianist. Minutes before the ceremony started, someone bumped the candle tree and hot wax spilled all over the front of my tux jacket. An older gentleman who worked at the hotel, possibly since the day that MLK wrote his speech, called me over to the coffee room right by the main door. He had me take off my jacket, then, after fetching a giant coffee filter, he placed my wax-stained jacket up against the red-hot coffee urn with the filter in between. He held it there for eight seconds. That coffee filter absorbed every molecule of that spilled wax; there was not a shred of evidence of wax or stain on my tux jacket. I like the Willard.

Two years ago, I played for a wedding ceremony at a bed and breakfast on the Eastern Shore of Maryland on a Saturday afternoon. I had a tight schedule; I was singing with the Annapolis Chamber Chorus on a concert that evening. I don’t like to wear a suit or tux jacket in the car; they wrinkle so easily. So, I generally wear a more casual jacket in the car and change after I arrive. When I was done at the wedding ceremony, I quickly packed up my keyboard and, even quicklier, hung my tux jacket in the car in order to hightail it back to Annapolis in time for the touch up rehearsal before the concert.

After I arrived back in Annapolis for the rehearsal, I went to change back into my tux jacket – only to find huge wax glops on the right shoulder and several more all the way down the right sleeve. It must have happened at the bed and breakfast earlier in the afternoon. I don’t know how I missed them when I hung the jacket in the car just an hour before.

I had two things in my favor.

1. I had worn a black Reebok track jacket in the car.

2. The conductor had me singing in the back row on this concert.

So, I sang on a formal concert wearing an old track jacket, with my tux shirt and black bow tie, and nobody said anything. The big work on the program was “Lux Aeterna” by American composer Morten Lauridsen. A lovely work in five sections, I find it beautiful, spiritual, romantic and cosmic, all at the same time.

Morten Lauridsen received the National Medal of Arts from President George W. Bush in 2007 at the White House. The White House sits on the other side of the US Treasury Department from the Willard Intercontinental Hotel.

Credits: To Julia Ward Howe, President Abraham Lincoln and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., three fine American citizens, wouldn’t you say? Thank you for the “trumpet that shall never call retreat”, for the notion of “government of the people, by the people and for the people”, and for sharing your dream with a nation and generation of people who need to hear it.

Boooooo, Bach

Songs Without Words; Murray Perahia, piano

I am not a fan of the music of J.S. Bach. It’s nothing personal. Herr Bach never did anything to offend or harm me in any way. In fact, I honor him as one of the greatest composers who ever lived. The consistently high level of quality in his output declares a super-genius, the likes of which we may never see again.

Many would brand me as blasphemous. The idea of a full-blooded Scandinavian Lutheran distancing himself from the Baroque period’s quintessential Minister of Music only four or five generations apart from Old Man Luther himself … It’s outrageous. Yeah, I guess so.

Herr Bach’s mind and my mind are incompatible. J.S. thinks linearly, stacking multiple melodic lines that sound simultaneously. I’m used to a series of chords, all lined up like dominoes, with one melody line lying across the top.

Murray Perahia plays a series of four Bach organ and chorale preludes that have received treatment from the great Italian pianist and scholar Ferruccio Busoni. He Romanticized Bach. It still sounds like Bach; except that it seems like he’s having a little more fun.

Mr. Perahia also plays a series of "Songs Without Words" by Felix Mendelssohn and some songs by Franz Schubert transcribed for solo piano by Franz Liszt. I’ve always enjoyed this recording by Mr. Perahia. I’m sorry there’s no story today.

Credits: To Martin Luther, for his promise to St. Anne and for “Ein’ Feste Burg”. “Here I stand. I can do no other.” How much more inspirational can you get?

wedding songs

"L'chi Lach"; Debbie Friedman

I played my first wedding in the spring of 1979. The young woman who lived east of our farm about a half of a mile asked me to accompany the vocalist. The vocalist, Dave, was six foot four inches tall. I was thirteen years old and probably five foot one. What an amusing picture that must have made.

I remember that we performed two songs. S. joined Dave and me on the first song, playing the famous flute solo on Chicago’s “Colour My World”. Then Dave sang “The Wedding Song”, also known as “There Is Love”. Paul Stookey, of Peter, Paul and Mary fame, wrote this song for the marriage ceremony of his friend Peter Yarrow, also of Peter, Paul and Mary. The Captain and Tennile recorded the version of the song that I had heard.

“The Wedding Song” was THEE wedding song for a long, long while. When I started playing for friends’ and classmates’ weddings, hardly a "Do you take this woman..." went by without this beautiful song appearing inside the ceremony folder. Originally, Stookey conceived the song from the standpoint that Christ sings the song in the guise of the singer, or troubadour:

I am now to be among you

At the calling of your hearts

Rest assured this troubadour

Is acting on My part.

However, foreseeing that many might misunderstand, get confused or declare blasphemy, he changed the point of view: The singer is now the singer:

He is now to be among you …

Is acting on his part.

When I moved to the east coast, I started playing with an ensemble that frequently performed at Jewish wedding ceremonies. Whenever Cantor M. would be involved in the ceremony, he would bring a lovely arrangement of a song called “L’chi Lach” or “And You Shall Be A Blessing”. The piano part never included the lyrics, and, as I needed to concentrate on my contribution within a larger ensemble, I never really had the opportunity to listen to the words. I assumed that “L’chi Lach” was a wedding song.

Composer Debbie Friedman drew inspiration from God’s words to Father Abraham in Genesis 12:1-2 when she wrote this song. The song doesn’t so much symbolize a marriage as it does the beginning of a journey; one where the traveler not only receives blessings, but also becomes a blessing, to his friends and to God. Sentiments as broad as this subsequently become appropriate at bar mitzvahs and bat mitzvahs.

Since 2007, Ms. Friedman has instructed at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion’s School of Sacred Music in New York, assisting in the studies of both rabbinic and cantorial students. A documentary film about her called “A Journey Of Spirit” was produced in 2004. Although she was born in Utica, NY, her family moved to Minnesota when she was five.

I played a Jewish wedding ceremony a few years ago where the groom wanted to include this song. So I dialed up my friendly, neighborhood iTunes store and downloaded the song. And now it’s on my iPod.

Credits: To Peter, Paul, and Mary. Thank you for your songs, your music, and your style. I learned “Puff The Magic Dragon” from you.

The spiritual home of chamber music

Brahms: The Piano Quartets Opp. 25, 26 and 60; Isaac Stern, violin; Jaime Laredo, viola; Yo-Yo Ma, cello; Emanuel Ax, piano

“The President’s Own” United States Marine Band annually presents a chamber music series. As far as a season is concerned, the first three chamber recitals typically occur on three consecutive Sunday afternoons during the month of October. The other five or six performances occur at various times from January through May. Performances occur in the state-of-the-art John Philip Sousa Band Hall at the Marine Barracks Annex and Band Support Facility near the historic Marine Barracks at Eighth and I in southeast Washington, DC.

When I played with the “The President’s Own”, we performed chamber music at the Coolidge Auditorium in the Library of Congress and in the Auditorium at the National Academy of Sciences building near the Lincoln Memorial. Although I enjoyed the acoustics at the National Academy of Sciences, playing at the Coolidge Auditorium was like playing in and on a little piece of history. The musically rich history of performances in this place go back to 1933.

Ms. Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge (no relation to the President) struck a partnership with the Library of Congress in order to construct a performance venue specifically for the performance of chamber music. Ms Coolidge had enjoyed a career as a pianist that spanned the centuries when she inherited a sizable estate from her parents. She made it her mission to invest her fortune into the promotion of chamber music, a mission, by the way, that she carried out until her death at the age of ninety in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1953.

The construction of the Coolidge Auditorium probably accounted for a considerable portion of her investments. But through the establishment of the Coolidge Foundation, the following composers received commissions for compositions to be played in “her” auditorium:

Bela Bartok for his String Quartet No. 5

Benjamin Britten for his String Quartet No. 1

Sergei Prokofiev for his String Quartet No. 1

Igor Stravinsky for Apollon Musagete

Francis Poulenc for his Flute Sonata

Aaron Copland for Appalachian Spring

My friend, fellow Marine Band member and cellist Nat C. approached me one day to ask, “You like Brahms, don’t you?” Yup. “Well, I think that we should get a group together to play the Brahms G Minor Piano Quartet. What d’you say?” Well, I don’t know. Is it any good? After a thirty-second choking episode, he responded with, “Do you mean to say … How did you ever … I can’t believe that … You call yourself a … You see, this here is exactly why … Of all the … When I think of the times that … Well, this is … this is just unbelievable.” So, it’s good then? “*loud sigh* (pause) (scowl) Yes.” Then, let’s do it. Our performance of Piano Quartet No. 1 by Johannes Brahms in Coolidge Auditorium at the Library of Congress represented some of the greatest fun that I had during my time in “The President’s Own”.

Credits: To cellist Nat C., violist Lisa P., and Claudia C., for soaking in a hot tub of Brahms with me. It was my pleasure to romp through a masterwork like this with masters like you. Thank you. I had a blast.

Coffee

The Phantom of the Opera; Original Cast Recording; Andrew Lloyd Weber, composer

A few days ago, my sister K. commented on how none of us three kids inherited our parents’ penchant for coffee. I’ve never tried a cup. D. might have; I don’t know. K. will drink a latte now and then, but that doesn’t really count, does it? I must have subconsciously chosen long ago to swear off hot drinks. I don’t even drink hot chocolate. If I partake of some soup out of a mug, I might slurp the dregs of some chicken broth. But my throat prefers cold liquids.

I don’t know the circumstances under which K. launched a love affair with “Phantom of the Opera” by Andrew Lloyd Weber, but launch she did. It might have been an infatuation with Michael Crawford. Perhaps the music touched her soul. Maybe the romantic story enchanted her. Possibly the notion that someone had staged this spectacle captured her imagination. Probably a little bit from all of them comes closest to the truth.

Anyway, she bought the original cast recording and had me listen to it. Mr. Lloyd Weber’s music mesmerized me more than any of the other aspects of this legendary extravaganza. So, once during a visit to her country cottage, I made a tape of her CD through which this music came to reside in my living iPod. The good Lord knows how many times I’ve received requests to play “All I Ask Of You” during the past twenty years.

When the tour of “Phantom of the Opera” came to the twin cities, K. obtained tickets for my sister D., my brother-in-law D. and herself. By all accounts, the show was a hit. I saw the show with some friends in Los Angeles in 1991. And while Mr. Crawford didn’t appear as the Phantom, Ms. Sara Brightman reprised her West End and Broadway role of Christine. Soon afterward, I purchased my own CD of the music from this wonderful, masterful show.

In 1993, K. came along with me on one of my trips through Europe when I chaperoned the young musicians in the band and chorus. Although London had successfully swept her off her feet, she really looked forward to a visit to Paris. Why? Some friends had told her that, though she didn’t drink coffee, she really had to try a French cappuccino while in Paris. When we had a little bit of free time after visiting the famous Opera, K. pointed out the little cappuccino shop across the Rue. So we hurried to the shop to place our order. We each got our own cappuccino. And while K. gracefully sipped her cappuccino like a seasoned sophisticate, I very clumsily burnt my tongue on mine.

I was frustrated, embarrassed and in pain, but in reverse order. I needed something to cool my tongue. RIGHT NOW!! A vender stood nearby who sold pop (soda) to clumsy first time American cappuccino drinkers who burned their tongues. I very quickly invested in one of his bottles of cold orange pop. It did the trick. I noticed, after the coolness began to mend both my tongue and ego, that my cold orange pop came from Fanta.

I like to tell people that I had Fanta at the Opera.

Credits: To Mr. Michael Crawford and Ms. Sarah Brightman, for their artful and spot-on performances in a show for the ages.

A Vineyard Cruise

Ralph Vaughan Williams; Symphony No. 8 and No. 9; London Philharmonic Orchestra; Bernard Haitnik, conducting

I have crossed the Atlantic by ship four times: westward in November of 1991, eastward in March of 1993, westward in November of 1993 and eastward in 1995. Many of my shipboard colleagues compared the experience to that of house arrest. I found it quite liberating. No one can in any way prepare themselves for the profound feelings of isolation when he or she stands for the first time at the prow, stern or highest point on the ship to see nothing but water in every direction

In the spring of 1993, Royal Cruise Line wanted to try something new. After just one pass through the Mediterranean Sea, they opted to try nudging their way up the western coast of Europe for a short jaunt through some Portuguese, French, English, Irish and Scottish vineyards before spending the summer in the Scandinavian capitals. We stopped first in Porto, Portugal, heading next to Bordeaux, France. After stopping in Southampton, England, we headed for Cork, Ireland.

The cruise line had decided to use a tender service to transfer the passengers to their tour busses. The mid-spring seas and swells prevented the operation of the tender service, and as there were no ports nearby large enough to accommodate our ship size. So they were left with the option of floating for a couple of hours about a mile off the shore of Cork County, Ireland, so that we could at least see the greenest green that we ever had seen.

We next stopped at Holyhead, Wales. No trees! Beautiful in its bareness and starkness. After docking in Dublin, Ireland, for a day, we stopped last in Greenock, Scotland, so that the passengers could hop a train for either Glasgow or Edinburgh. They had trees. Lots.

While I was in Southampton, I purchased a recording of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ “A Sea Symphony”, commonly called his Symphony No. 1. He wrote it between 1903 and 1909. I considered it an appropriate purchase to commemorate my time on the seas while in the UK. I liked the recording very much; so much, in fact, that I loaned it out, but I never got it back. I will purchase it again someday.

But in the mean time, I am enjoying other great works by Ralph Vaughan Williams. This recording of his eighth and ninth symphonies I purchased during my last visit to Rockin Rudy’s in Missoula, MT. We listened to it while we drove through the treeless portions of Wyoming. It reminded me of Holyhead.

Credits: To the people of Cork County, Ireland, and your shores of green. I shall return someday. I promise.

The Cole Porter Song Book

Oscar Peterson Trio; Oscar Peterson Plays The Cole Porter Song Book

I once heard an interview with the daughter of Oscar Hammerstein II. She made the interesting claim that Richard Rodgers didn’t write “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning”. He wrote “Da, da ,da ,da ,da ,da, daaaaaaa, daaaaaa; da, da, da, da, da, da, daaaaaaa …” Oscar Hammerstein wrote “Oh, what a beautiful morning, Oh, what a beautiful day…” Cole Porter, at one time, wondered aloud why it took two people to write a Broadway musical. Well, thank you, Mr. Porter. We all wish that we could be as talented as you.

It’s true, though. Cole Porter took out all of the complications of song writing by making himself head of both departments: Words and Music by Cole Porter. So many times in the realm of show music, words and music are inseparable; the two elements need each other in order to achieve the desired effect. Not so with Mr. Porter. Without the words you still have a great tune. Without the tune you still have very creative poetry.

Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen recorded this album in 1959. I know I’ve said it before, but these guys swing so hard. The only other appropriate word in my description arsenal for this music is the word jolly. Every song has a smile on its face. These fellows must have had a fantastic time in the studio putting this recording together.

Pound for pound, “It’s All Right With Me” offers the best deal. Oscar offers up six times the notes in half the time. The follow up tune, “Love for Sale”, on the other hand, goes for a casual stroll around the block. If I may, though, offer a complaint: The songs are, and the CD is, waayyyyy too short. I desire many more minutes of swinginess.

Mr. Peterson closes the album with the wonderful “It’s Delovely”. Although nobody sings the number on this album, I’d like to point out that Mr. Porter chose his wittiest pen when writing the verse to this number.

I feel the sudden urge to sing

The kind of ditty that invokes the spring

So, control your desire to curse

While I crucify the verse

This verse you’ve started seems to me

The Tin-Pan-tithesis of melody

So to spare you all the pain

I’ll skip the darn thing and sing the refrain.

Credits: To Rodgers and Hammerstein; for the epic nature of their creations and their refusal to back away from social issues. Thank you for “The Sound of Music”. It has made my sisters very happy.