lies like truth

Experiencing the music of the progressive bluegrass outfit Hard Road is the equivalent of reading the poetry of Spike Milligan. Warm-hearted, yet with a mad professorly edge, the group tantalizes the eardrums with its homespun-streetwise blend of fast-strummed neo spirituals and folk songs.

Headed up by mandolin player and songwriter Steve Smith and the guitarist and singer-songwriter Chris Sanders, the ensemble was performing at the Freight & Salvage Coffee House in Berkeley last night.

The atmosphere in the auditorium (which I always find to be way too sterile for roots music) was friendly and relaxed. The crowd was enthusiastic, even though the place wasn’t very full.

My only complaint: Smith and Sanders were joined on the stage by Bill Evans on the five-string banjo, bassist Bill Amatneek, and fiddler Megan Lynch. But while Evans’ banjo-playing was featured quite prominently on the program, Lynch and Amatneek didn’t get as much exposure. I would have liked to have heard more of these tremendously talented players.

In other news: I’m excited about the west coast premiere screening next Wednesday at the Kabuki Theatre of a new documentary film by Michael Lawrence all about the music of J. S. Bach. More information about the movie, which includes personal reflections on the great man’s sound by the likes of Joshua Bell, Bobby McFerrin, Philip Glass, Béla Fleck, Chris Thile, Hilary Hahn, Zuill Bailey, Matt Haimovitz and Edgar Meyer, can be found here.

A trip to Los Angeles on LA Times business and a friend visiting from London has kept me away from my blog for the last few days.

All I want to say for now is that I love the Hollywood Bowl.

I spent Monday afternoon watching Grant Gershon rehearse the LA Phil and the LA Master Chorale for a Tuesday evening concert of celebratory music which included Haydn’s Te Deum, Vivaldi’s Gloria, Poulenc’s Gloria and the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah (complete with fireworks!). Then I returned the following evening for the concert.

OK, so music nerds like to sniff and moan about the sub-optimal acoustics and the fact that audience members spend their time drinking wine and eating cake instead of paying one hundred percent of their attention to the artists on stage. But really there’s no place like the Bowl on earth.

The trick to enjoying yourself at the Hollywood Bowl is to leave some of your musical pretensions at the door. Bring warm clothes, find a friend to cuddle up with and get together a picnic. Otherwise it’s bound to be a long night.

Since launching a non-profit arts project at the start of this year, I’ve been thinking about fundraisers quite a bit. I’ve attended a few for other organizations and I even mounted a modest one myself for my project last October in advance of the launch.

I’ve come to the conclusion that fundraisers are a crazy amount of work and may not raise a ton of money. But they’re worth doing anyway because of the connections and goodwill you can generate, the pleasure you can give people if the event is done right and the (perhaps modest) amount of cash you can procure to keep your project afloat.

Last night, however, I attended a fundraiser for an arts organization which made me see that there are times when it’s just not worth bothering. The event was, in essence, the worst fundraiser I’ve ever been to in my life.

The organization in question is one I care about, so I went along, even though I received my invitation only the day before the event itself. When I got there, a woman at the front desk barked “We’re asking for $20.” The invitation had said “donations at the door” so I was a little taken aback to be hijacked for a specific amount of cash in such an aggressive way.

The venue where the event was held was soulless — a boring black box theatre space which had not been decorated or changed in any way to make it appear more convivial. There was no free food or drink and the stuff that you could pay for — a few untempting cans and some packets of candy — was not inspiring at all.

Inside the theatre itself, a few people sat in the seats silently watching a singer-songwriter with long hair and a knitted beret sing endless, boring songs about his “darlin'” to the sound of a nurdling guitar. The music was accompanied by video footage of the performer and his friends messing about on a lake and in someone’s apartment. At one point, the musician invited a girl up to the stage to sing a song with him. She was horrible.

What was really weird about the set-up was that the stage area was flanked by long tables at which the organizers of several other non-profit arts projects sat silently with fliers, posters and other materials relating to their projects on display. They looked uncomfortable sitting up there in full-view while the music was going on.

After sitting through the first musician’s effort, the event’s organizer and the director of the arts organization whose fundraiser it was made a couple of pointless speeches. Then another singer-songwriter got up to play his long set. His guitar was out of tune but no one seemed to care. He had, at least, a lively stage presence and some of his lyrics were funny. (His song about a lesbian cocaine party mad me chuckle slightly.)

To make matters worse, everyone was badly dressed. My friend and I didn’t stay for the third and fourth items on the performance roster. We snuck out mid-song with sore bottoms from the uncomfortable seats.

I’ll probably organize a fundraiser for VoiceBox in the fall. I learned a lot last night about how not to go about putting on my event. So at least there was one positive outcome from last night’s debacle.

The upcoming TechnoCRAFT exhibition at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts explores the blurred line between designers and consumers in a world where consumers are increasingly turning their backs on mass produced products or at least want the illusion that they are able to do so by being given some degree of creative autonomy in the making of a product by a designer and manufacturer.

Judging by the advanced materials I’ve received about the exhibition, the two most interesting objects that will go on display when the show, curated by designer Yves Behar, opens on July 9, are the ones whose images are shown above. Both the Fragile Salt & Pepper Shaker and the Droog Do Hit Chair demand interactivity from the consumer — an act which is simultaneously creative and destructive.

In order to use the chair, which comes in the form of a stainless steel cube, the consumer must first bash it into a comfortable shape by wielding a sledgehammer or other similar tool. Meanwhile, the ceramic salt and pepper shakers, which come fused together, have to be broken apart by the consumer. The break will be different each time, creating a unique shape, just like each finished Do Hit Chair.

I imagine there’s some satisfaction to be gleaned from the end user’s point of view in snapping the thin ceramic necks of the salt and pepper shakers and slamming a metal cube with a mallet to make a chair.

From an interactive perspective, it’s fascinating to see how a 1970s style performance art process (the sort of thing that would have been captured decades ago as a video art piece and put in a contemporary art gallery) is now being replicated by the consumer.

On the other hand, there’s a sort of a shallowness to this “customizable art.” The consumer’s power to create feels too controlled by the designer, who is after all providing full instructions to the end user about what he or she needs to do to make a usable chair or salt and pepper shakers. All that’s required on the consumer’s side is brute force (in the case of the chair) and dextrous fingers (for the shakers). The pieces provide an opportunity for interactivity, but do they promote creativity and artistry or ultimately destroy them?

Yesterday, as we were standing in the vestibule/store at the Museum of Craft and Folk Art (MoCFA) in downtown San Francisco, the museum’s director, one of its curators and I found ourselves admiring a striking view.

An old Catholic church with its severe grey masonry and red brick, a high-rise apartment block decked out in gleaming aqua colored glass and steel girders and the Contemporary Jewish Museum’s hulking black cube structure looked like three conspiring figures, almost blocking out a jigsaw puzzle-shaped piece of blue sky.

“When I look at this view, I feel like I live in a much bigger metropolis,” said Natasha Boas, the curator. I know what Natasha means. It seems like almost every week, I hear someone remarking upon what a small provincial town we live in. We are often quick to point out that San Francisco is not a patch on New York, Paris or London from a cultural perspective. But then we remember that those cities have populations that number millions of people. San Francisco, by comparison, has just over 800,000. For such a hick burg, we’re disproportionately artsy.

It’s not every city of 800,000 residents that can support not one but two museums — MoCFA and the San Francisco Museum of Craft + Design — dedicated to the visual arts branch of crafts, after all.

It’s hard to get the right balance with community music-making. As an oboist, I’ve played in groups which take themselves far too seriously and others which don’t take themselves seriously enough.

The too serious groups usually produce a higher quality product, but you don’t have much fun in the process of creating it because the leader or conductor (who tends to view the ensemble as a sort of reflection of his or her inflated ego) spends too much time haranguing the players about every last detail. The not serious enough groups are full of conviviality, but the musicianship often leaves much to be desired because the players are more interested in rampaging through as much repertoire as possible than stopping to think about such crazy stuff as hitting the right notes or playing in tune.

There’s no reason why the two qualities should be musically exclusive though.

The musicians in one group in Oakland with which I sometimes play, have at least a sense of self awareness about their lack of diligence at the expense of fun. At last week’s rehearsal, one of the players handed around sheets of paper imprinted with seven pointers for “How to Play Chamber Music.” The handout, which is currently attached to my fridge, made me giggle. Anyone who’s ever played chamber music in a not-too-serious setting may recognize some if not all of these standards:

1. Everyone should try to play the same piece.

2. If you play a wrong note, give a nasty look to one of the other players.

3. A repeat sign means everyone should stop and discuss in detail whether to repeat that section or not.

4. If the ensemble has to stop because of you, explain in detail why you got lost. Everyone will be immensely interested.

5. If you are completely lost, stop everyone and say: “I think we should tune.”

6. If everyone is lost except you, follow those who are lost.

7. If everyone else has finished playing, do not play any notes you have left over.

Jan Kounen’s mostly insipid, exposition-laden feature film about the relationship between the 20th century’s greatest couturier and composer, Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky, is worth seeing for two reasons:

1. The first scene which reconstructs the opening night performance at the Theatre des Champs Elysees in Paris of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring on May 29 1913. Although I find it very unlikely that the choreographer, Vaslav Nijinsky, would have given such basic rehearsal instructions to his Ballet Russes dancers as “follow the rhythm” and “jump” right before curtain, the fretful camerawork and anxious faces of the principle characters beautifully capture the build-up of one the most significant moments — and biggest fiascos — in performing arts history. I also love the contrast between the choreographed “savagery” on stage and the true “savages” brawling in their evening wear on the other side of the proscenium.

2. Anna Mouglalis’ impossibly long neck and serpentine elegance as Coco Chanel. I wouldn’t say that the actress gives a particularly nuanced performance. She certainly isn’t helped by Chris Greenhalgh’s clunky script. But she looks like she was made to wear Chanel’s monochrome, graceful clothes and carries herself throughout the film like a Modigliani painting come to life.

Yesterday, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA) held a press preview for its inaugural Fisher Collection exhibition — “Calder to Warhol: Introducing the Fisher Collection” — which opens to the public on Friday.

The exhibition is big news because it marks the start of SFMOMA’s collaboration with the Fishers, the founders of the GAP clothing chain and the owners of one of the world’s most enviable private contemporary art collections. In February, SFMOMA announced a partnership to house and display the collection of Gap founders Doris and Donald Fisher which includes more than 1,100 works by iconic 20th century artists. The museum is currently selecting an architect to build a new wing specially for the collection, much of which has never been seen by the public before now. In the meantime, the partnership is kicking off with the entire top two floors of the museum, including the Rooftop Garden, displaying more than 160 paintings, sculptures, photographs, and video works by Alexander Calder, Chuck Close, Anselm Kiefer, Roy Lichtenstein, Agnes Martin, Gerhard Richter, Cy Twombly, Andy Warhol, and other world-class artists.

I spent the morning wandering around the exhibition halls with my mouth aGAPe. I’ve seen one or two Calder mobiles hanging in galleries before, but never a roomful all in one go. And beyond a special exhibition dedicated to the works of Anselm Kiefer which I saw a few years ago, I’ve never seen such a variety of the artist’s work all displayed next to each other in one space. The depth of the offerings as well as the breadth made my head spin.

I expect that this show will fill SFMOMA’s coffers. But if I have any criticism of it, it’s that there’s so much iconic work on display that it feels very much like a “greatest hits” experience. With so much amazing artwork all available in one place, it’s hard for individual pieces to stand out.

I think the best way to experience this enviable exhibition is to go many times and just hit one room with every visit. Otherwise I think it’s very possible to experience art overload or burnout.

Is it better for a grant-making organization to dole out funds to arts organizations as a result of a closed-door decision-making process in which a panel of “experts” decides which organizations are most worth supporting or to let the public decide by leveraging the power of a popular social networking tool?

The latter sounds way less mysterious and more democratic. So why am I feeling so ambivalent about Chase Bank’s use of Facebook to help its community giving department distribute charitable donations?

A couple of days ago, I received a mass email from Old First Concerts, a presenter of classical and experimental chamber music recitals in San Francisco. The email said:

Please Vote For Old First Concerts
Chase Community Giving Supports Non-Profits

Please Vote Today: Voting Ends July 12, 2010
Our Non-Profit Name:  Old First Center For the Arts

Chase Community Giving is once again donating $5 million to 200 worthy non-profit organizations. The top non-profit will receive $250,000, the next 4, $100,000 and 195 non-profits will get grants of $20,000. The winners will be selected by people like you voting on Facebook for the organizations you feel are most worthy.

Old First Concerts receives its support from government and foundation grants, as well as individual contributions, along with the 50% of our operating revenue that comes from ticket sales. As a result of the economic downturn, many foundations and government agencies have had to reduce the amount of support they offer. Receiving one of the Chase Community Giving grants would provide us with significant funding to continue our mission. Here’s how you can help:

• Vote for us (by July 12) on Facebook: Click here to vote
• Forward this email to others
• Encourage your Facebook friends to vote for us (e.g., wall postings)
Thank you for your ongoing support of emerging musicians and affordable concerts in San Francisco.

The money on offer is significant and I love the work that Old First Concerts does. So I dutifully followed the link and tried to vote. But Facebook wouldn’t allow me to cast my vote without making all my personal information available to Chase, which I wasn’t keen on allowing as I don’t want the financial institution to start badgering me with offers etc. There seemed to be no way around this demand, so I decided not to vote after all.

Besides the invasion of privacy issue, the idea of organizations winning money as a result of a popularity contest also sticks in the craw a bit. Old First concerts attracts a niche audience of mostly older people. I’d be surprised if a great many of them even use Facebook (according to Katht Barr, the director of the organization, even some of the artists she programs have trouble dealing with the concept of email, let alone Facebook.)

Finally, I have to wonder just how transparent the system is. How do we really know that the votes are being amassed correctly via the technology and that Chase will base its decision solely on the number rather than on other factors that aren’t being shared with the public. Is the vote the only means of deciding? Or is it just one factor that Chase Community is considering alongside a more conventional panel-led, application form-driven process? The email message certainly doesn’t go into this detail.

“The Power of Giving Is In Your Hands,” says the slogan on the Chase Community Giving Facebook page. Is it really though? Frankly, I’d be very surprised if the grant-giver were to give away a quarter of a million dollars based just on a count of raised hands on Facebook.

The Garden of Memory walk-through music event at the Chapel of the Chimes in Oakland is, as far as I am concerned, one of the highlights of the Bay Area arts calendar.

One reason for this is to do with the location — the Julia Morgan-designed columbarium with its maze-like nooks and crannies, fountains, fragrant courtyard gardens and beautiful light. Another reason is for the music. The organizer, Sarah Cahill, coopts the talents of about as diverse a range of artists as you can imagine from the throat singer Ken Ueno and the alt-folk string players Dylan Mattingly and Eli Wirtschafter to the whistler Jason Victor Serenius and the electronic composer Paul Dresher. A third reason is the people watching. What a crazy assortment of Bay Area types this unique event attracts.

The highlight of the 2010 Garden of Memory event which happened yesterday evening for me this time around was the performance by the Ukrainian vocalist and harmonium player Mariana Sadovska. Sadovska appeared in the Chimes Chapel following a turn by the all-female vocal ensemble, Kitka. Sadovska is directing a new vocal-theatre production that the ensemble is premiering this week in Oakland.

I usually love Kitka. But the group’s performance didn’t impress me much this time. Some of the music was a bit too precious, self-conscious and quiet. The group tends to touch me more when the singers are at their most full-throated and wild abandoned.

Sadovska performs in the same tradition as Kitka and thankfully she made up for this lack of oomph with her fifteen minute performance in which we saw the pretty petite artist show off her vast vocal range, her passion and her sense of humor. Her wild bacchanal included whoops, grunts, gut-powered singing and yodels. She got the audience completely riled up. It was a breathtaking performance by a beautiful banshee.

After the snoozefest that was Faust, the San Francisco Opera redeemed itself at least partially in my eyes over the weekend with its production of Die Walkure. The main reason for this was the extraordinary casting. I was utterly captivated by a great many of the performances including Christopher Ventris as a passionate yet psychologically restrained Siegmund, a rampant and brooding Raymond Aceto as Hunding, Mark Delevan’s splenetic Wotan, Eva-Maria Westbroek’s sincere Sieglinde and Janina Baechle as a conniving Fricka. I was especially taken with Nina Stemme’s turn as the emotionally torn Brunnhilde — the opera’s general manager, David Gockley, announced at the start of the show that Stemme was suffering from some sort of virus but she went on anyway and did a remarkable job.

What kept me from being fully immersed in the production, however, was the ugly and cliche-ridden mise-en-scene. The videography, consisting of churning clouds and a fast hand-held camera-aided run through a forest, made me feel nauseous. And I’m more than a little tired of seeing Gods portrayed as business titans in skyscrapers and battle scenes taking place in dystopian wasteland-type settings complete with bruised skies, concrete, piles of trash and used truck tires.

Still, when it comes down to it, the singing and acting are the most important things and SF Opera at least got these elements right. I shudder to think how much money the company could have saved by doing away with Francesca Zambello’s clunky, expensive-looking staging though.

The League of American Orchestras has bestowed its Helen M. Thompson Award on Joana Carneiro, the fabulous young artistic director of the Berkeley Symphony.

According to information from The League, the award “recognizes Carneiro’s commitment to expanding the community base of the Berkeley Symphony and furthering the orchestra’s tradition of presenting the works of composers of our time. In only one season, Carneiro’s exceptional talent has inspired the musicians of the BSO and raised their performance level. Her appointment of composer Gabriela Lena Frank as Creative Advisor has resulted in new relationships with community organizations and deeper connections with audiences. Audience response to Carneiro’s leadership can be gauged by the orchestra’s record-breaking subscription rate for next season.”

Joana certainly seems to be shaking things up in Berkeley, an organization which has moved quite slowly, from what I gather, in previous years. The audience appears to be very responsive to her and the orchestra is playing beautifully. 

Joana has achieved a tremendous amount in a short period of time. But I’ll be curious to see whether she gets to fulfill her more eclectic plans for the orchestra, such as instituting a wide-ranging audience engagement program around the regular concert series. Budgets are tight and even small projects can take a lot of effort to get off the ground.