I would have missed this wonderful video if my friend Michael Daugherty hadn’t alerted me to it. Aboard the SpaceX Polaris Dawn spacecraft, astronaut Sarah Gillis played “Rey’s Theme” from Star Wars on her violin, accompanied by orchestras and ensembles of young musicians from locations all around the world. Sit back for a few and enjoy it.
The other day, I turned 47—or maybe it was 74—I have selective dyslexia around this question. My loving family gave me something I’ve always wanted: a theremin! So I can make sounds like in Forbidden Planet (although apparently that movie, to my amazement, did not actually have theremin music). Well, maybe like The Day the Earth Stood Still. (Here’s a studio session with the theremin.) Or maybe I’ll even learn to make music. My wife never goes halfway on this sort of thing, so she researched and researched until she found the best theremin for a beginner, top quality, of course. This is a Moog Theremini, nicely portable and with all kinds of audio features, from the makers of the original Moog Synthesizer.
I don’t know how to play it yet. I mean, I can make spooky sounds, which is very cool. For now, I’ll promise to post a video in the future when I can do something interesting. Maybe an orchestral piece, like Once Upon a Time in the West.
Last weekend, we made our second pilgrimage to Tanglewood—to attend the BSO’s sold-out celebration concert for my favorite composer John Williams’s 90th birthday year. It was magnificent. Guest performers included Yo-Yo Ma on cello, Branford Marsalis on sax, Jessica Zhou on harp, James Taylor with his voice, and surprise guest Itzhak Perlman on violin.
Boston.com
Most of the music was by Williams, most of it not the well-known film scores. One film excerpt that they did play was new to me, from Catch Me If You Can. It was mesmerizing, with Marsalis on sax and other guest performers on vibraphone and double bass. The surprise performance of the evening was the haunting theme from Schindler’s List, with Itzhak Perlman in a wheelchair reprising his performance of the original film recording.
Boston.com
We camped out in the lawn area with a picnic dinner this time—great sound, following the orchestra on big video screens. (With our binoculars, we couldn’t see much of the orchestra directly over all the heads, but the binocs were useful in bringing the video images closer.)
Williams sat in the front row of the audience, taking it in. There were stirring tributes from directors and musicians he has worked with through the years, including Yo-Yo Ma, and ending with a video tribute from Steven Spielberg. The concluding number was the finale to Star Wars, and after all we had heard, that unexpectedly brought me instantly to tears. Truly, truly beautiful; I cried through the whole thing. Williams came to the stage afterward, and the assembled 18,000 people sang Happy 90th Birthday to him. (That brought Allysen to tears.) Finally, he was handed the baton for an encore, and he conducted the Boston Symphony in the theme to Raiders of the Lost Ark. Not a dry eye in the house, or on the lawn. It was a truly magnificent time.
My one regret is that he is close to retirement. I must accept now that there will never be a film adaptation of one of my books with a score by John Williams. There are worse fates, but that is a dream I now willingly let go.
The keynote event of our trip to the Berkshires was a Sunday-afternoon concert at Tanglewood with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Andris Nelsons conducting. Now this is the way to hear music. I had only been to Tanglewood once before, decades ago, sitting on the grass out in front of the music shed, and that was great.
Here’s Allysen, standing in front of the shed. The crowd was just beginning to gather.
This time, I decided that I was a grownup and it was time to spring for seats inside the shed, where I could see the orchestra. It was fabulous. (Although I still couldn’t see the wind instruments, which were completely hidden behind the strings, which frustrated me a little.)
The program included Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise, Opus 34, No. 14, as well as his Symphony No. 3 in A minor, Opus 44. I say that as if I know something about it, but I’m just telling you what the program says. Sandwiched between the Rachmaninoff works was a premier performance of a contemporary-classical piece by Helen Grime: Trumpet Concerto, night-sky-blue, featuring Håkan Hardenberger on trumpet. I should note that the Rachmaninoff symphony featured virtuoso tweeting by birds in the rafters of the shed. They seemed totally in touch with the feeling of the final movement. Bravo!
Now, I have about as much business reviewing classical music as Fred Flintstone has reviewing one of my books. But should I let that stop me? As a point of reference, I might note that my absolute favorite orchestral works are Dvorak’s New World Symphony, John Williams’ various themes from Star Wars and Close Encounters, and Richard Rogers’ themes from Victory at Sea.
My favorite of this BSO performance was Vocalise. I can’t say why, just that it was lush and lyrical and swept me along. I need to find a recording of it to listen to again.
The Helen Grime concerto was…interesting. Cerebral, often dissonant, many musical voices speaking at once. The trumpet part was extraordinary in the playing ability demonstrated, but not exactly something to make me hum inside my head. I wanted to like it. I was excited to see a young composer have a new work premiered by the BSO; I felt I was in on something special. And yet… if there were melodies or themes, I was unable to pick them out. It was written during the pandemic, and it felt chaotic in a way that reflected that birthing. It felt like Stravinsky drenched in Jackson Pollock. No doubt this is my lack of understanding of classical music speaking.
The Rachmaninoff symphony began with an exquisite thread of clarinet and/or oboe, then segued into energetic full orchestral motion. I was unfamiliar with the piece, and I frankly couldn’t follow the musical themes for long, although there were passages I found quite beautiful. Unlike my reaction to the Grime, I was aware of the orchestra working together to craft themes I could hear, even if only for a few moments at a time, even if I didn’t follow where they were going. I want to listen to this again, also, though I doubt that any recording will feature the chirping of the birds nearly as effectively as in this performance.
All in all, it was a gratifying conclusion to the weekend. We now return to our regularly scheduled dimension.
Following the Boston Pops musicians-at-home tribute to COVID-19 first responders, I was blown away today by this solo performance at home by the New York Philharmonic’s principal clarinetist Anthony McGill, of “America the Beautiful”—beautifully and subtly re-tuned to convey Mr. McGill’s sorrow and anger at racial injustice. Watch and listen to it on a device with good sound; it’s worth it. McGill ends the piece with… well, I’ll let you watch and see.
McGill’s statement inspired this haunting and inspiring rendition of Sebelius’s Hymn from Finlandia, by music students and faculty from four different music schools, all taking two knees in protest of injustice.
The story appears on NPR’s Here and Now, with an interview by WBUR radio’s Robin Young. The interview is well worth a listen:
Following on the heels of cats and trains, my friend Michael Daugherty came back with a third, classical music played with cello and toilet paper roll:
My friend from wayyy back, Michael Daugherty, put me on to this. Cats, cows, and sheep perform Erik Satie’s Gymnopédies, which I think I first encountered with Blood, Sweat, and Tears, back in the ‘60s. Give it a listen. But keep in mind what one commenter said: You will never be able to unhear it.
Here’s a picture of my daughter Lexi and her friend Connor trying out our new timpani (kettle drums) during our Fourth of July cookout. New timpani? In the back yard? Does this require a little explanation?
Last Sunday, Allysen was scanning our town email list, and she came across an unusual item: Things being discarded during clean-out of old school building, including this, that, and two kettle drums. “Do we want kettle drums?” she asked me. “Why not?” I said, and we hopped into the trusty Ranger to go take a look. Sure enough, two old but serviceable-looking copper kettle drums were beside the dumpster. Soon thereafter, they were in our back yard.
I played snare and bass drum (and clarinet) in my high school marching band, but I haven’t played any kind of drum since then. Maybe it’s not too late! These didn’t come with any sticks or mallets, so I popped into our neighborhood drum store. The owner, having worked with the schools, knew all about these drums. He said they were good ones (if in need of some repair to the base of one), and he made a call to confirm for me that they had indeed been put out for anyone to take. He was sold out of mallets, unfortunately, but the local guitar store had some that would do for now.
And so, for the Fourth of July, I called upon our guests to hum the melody of the theme to 2001, while I expertly (?) played the prominent timpani part: Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom. Maybe a new career for me?
Next challenge: See if we can fit them through the door into the basement!
Another heartbreaking loss for film and music lovers. Composer James Horner died in a small plane crash north of Santa Barbara last Monday. He was 61.
James Horner was right up there with John Williams and Jerry Goldsmith in my pantheon of beloved composers. I first fell in love with his music with the scores for two of the best classic Star Trek movies, The Wrath of Khan and The Search for Spock. Just as the second movie built on the first, so too did the music, adding depth and texture to the themes introduced in Khan. There was a nautical flavor to the themes, evoking the wonder and peril of deep space like nothing else I had heard.
His credits included Aliens, Titanic, Avatar, Apollo 13, Braveheart, A Beautiful Mind, and countless other films. He was by all accounts a man of extraordinary generosity.
I asked if he could write some melodies. I believe that a great score really consists of something you can whistle. If that melody gets embedded in your mind, it takes the score to a different level. I drove over to his house and he sat at the piano and said, “I see this as the main theme for the ship.” He played it once through and I was crying. Then he played Rose’s theme and I was crying again. They were so bittersweet and emotionally resonant. He hadn’t orchestrated a thing, and I knew it was going to be one of cinema’s great scores. No matter how the movie turned out, and no one knew at that point — it could have been a dog — I knew it would be a great score. He thought he had done only five percent of the work, but I knew he had cracked the heart and soul.
Of all of them, though, his haunting score for The Search for Spock is the most memorable to me, and one I’ve listened to countless times while writing.
Farewell, James Horner. May you continue to fill the heavens with your splendid music!