Brian Sacawa: Sounds Like Now

Memory slip

I'm going to stay out of the scuffle on the main page at Sequenza21. However, there's one issue from Anthony De Mare's concert that both Anthony Tommasini and Frank Oteri bring up in their review and rebuttal, respectively--playing from memory.

One fact from Mr. De Mare's concert that they both mention, was that Mr. De Mare needed to go off stage to retrieve the score for Mr. Rzewski's work after failing to be able to perform it from memory. That took a lot of guts. And I'm glad that neither Mr. Tommasini or Mr. Oteri castigated Mr. De Mare for doing so. Rather, both give him credit for a wonderful reading of the work with the score.

So this makes me wonder, who cares if you play with music in front of you? Does it matter that much? A great performance of a work will transcend the score. When I play a concert, I've internalized the score to a point where I don't really need it--in a way I'm playing from memory. But it's nice to have it there as a reference, especially if the music is extremely difficult and complex. (I do play Stockhausen's In Freudschaft from memory, but that's because he specifies that it needs to be played from memory in the score. There is so much choreography that reading a score during performance would be impossible anyway. I'm also scared of the consequences if Stockhausen were to find out that I was playing his piece with the score.) It's pretty easy to tell if a performer "owns" the piece or is using the music as a crutch.

As a new music performer, I have to tip my hat to Mr. De Mare for taking on the formidable task of presenting six new works from memory. Is it necessary though? Somewhere along the line, playing from memory became the norm in piano performance. Yet I've seen some great performances where the pianist played with the score--Marilyn Nonken's recital of the complete Boulez piano sonatas stands out. Not all instruments have this tradition. But in the piano's case, does it really matter if you play from memory? I don't think it's that important.

All in the family

Composers take note. Here's how to get your music played and receive that critical praise you've been hungering for:

1. Marry a world-class soloist.
2. Become the music director of a famous orchestra.
3. Write your spouse a concerto.
4. Take your orchestra on the road.

Hey, it worked for André Previn, who led his wife Anne-Sophie Mutter in his new violin concerto with the Oslo Philharmonic Orchesta. Even Bernard Holland thinks it's a good idea: "New music should do anything it can to find an audience, and this way is better than many." And don't worry, there's "no sin in [this] kind of three-way."

It's all about the Leo's

Although Belgium switched its currency from Francs to Euros in 2002, they really knew how to treat their cultural heroes. Proud of one of their own whose invention is known and performed around the world, they gave Adolphe Sax the distinction of gracing the 200 Belgian franc note. How about a Leo Fender $100 bill?

Play ball!

Baseball season is just around the corner and Kyle Gann's been making sports/music analogies. (That's Hotaru over there, by the way.) I like John Luther Adams' response, which likens music to baseball more than basketball. I've never been a big basketball fan--although I find the NCAA much more interesting than the NBA--and have often thought that a baseball game is like music. It is slow, like JLA says, but that only serves to increase the tension. It's like a late Feldman piece. Milton Babbitt, whose music is a bit more eventful than Feldman's, has a couple of baseball-inspired titles--Around the Horn (1993) for solo horn and Whirled Series (1987) for alto saxophone and piano. I'll be listening to Babbitt and Feldman for the next couple of weeks to get in the mood for opening day. Go Sox.

A live one

I noticed something from my last post. Six out of the ten solos I listed were recorded live. I don't think that's a coincidence. There's something about the energy, excitement, intensity, immediacy, and spontaneity of a live performance that simply cannot be captured in a controlled and sterile studio environment.

You don't hear live classical recordings that often. Occasionally you'll run into one--Lang Lang's "live" Carnegie Hall recital CD comes to mind. Although who knows just how much splicing and editing was done from the dress rehearsals. You don't see live classical albums nearly as often as live jazz or rock albums. Even Steely Dan, the rock and roll studio kings of the 1970s and 1980s, cut a live album not too long ago. (In fairness to Mr. Lang, there's a well-hidden but still audible edit in "Peg" on the Steely Dan album right before the final guitar solo--listen closely, you'll hear it.)

So why don't people make live classical albums? They're scared to, that's why. Who wants to take a chance at releasing an album with a wrong note (or two)? Imagine the humiliation and shame you'd feel in front of your peers, who never mess up. Today's advanced editing techniques have made it possible to create perfect, flawless, almost superhuman sounding recordings. You can even speed up a passage if you can't play it fast as you'd like to. Over time, the bar has been set continually higher for the polish and perfection of classical recordings. And that's not entirely bad. I think this high standard has spurred amazing advances in instrumental technique. But who can play flawlessly all the time? And what about the synergy between artist and audience?

Walter Benjamin talks about certain aspects of this phenomenon in his essay, "The Work of Art in the Mechanical Age of Reproduction." In one instance, he compares the stage actor's performance to that of a screen actor. The stage actor presents his/her artistic performance to the public in person. The screen actor's artistic performance is presented by the camera. And the camera that presents the performance to the public doesn't need to respect the performance as an integral whole. The editor chooses the sequence of events, camera angles, and close-ups, which then constitutes the completed film. One consequence of this is that the film actor lacks the opportunity to adjust to the audience that the stage actor does. This allows the audience to take the position of a critic without expreiencing any personal contact with the actor. Everybody's a critic.

While I've been up on my soapbox, I have to admit that my recordings contain editing. It's an accepted practice and everyone does it (sure sounds like peer pressure). In the end, it comes down to each artist's integrity. They've got to live with what they've chosen to do. Catholics might have a harder time with this than others. Someone could make an amazing sounding recording with a little (or a lot of) studio magic. However, if they've really pulled a fast one on everybody in the studio, the truth will inevitably come out in live performance. My next album won't be "clean" but one of these days I'll make a live album. Mark my words.

(Actually, not all of my recordings have editing. This one, which features me on alto saxophone with the Larry Teal Saxophone Quartet, was recorded live in concert.)

My favorite things

Alex Ross has been making up lists recently. So here's a list of mine: Ten of my favorite recorded jazz saxophone solos that come immediately to mind.

1. Michael Brecker, "Every Day (I Thank You)" -- Pat Metheny, 80/81
2. Michael Brecker, "Sumo" -- Steps Ahead, Live in Tokyo 1986
3. Michael Brecker, "Quartet No. 1" -- Chick Corea, Three Quartets
4. Ornette Coleman, "Peace" -- The Shape of Jazz to Come
5. Steve Coleman, "Multiplicity Of Approaches (The African Way of Knowing)" -- Steve Coleman and the Five Elements, curves of life
6. John Coltrane, "Afro Blue" -- Coltrane Live at Birdland
7. John Coltrane, "I Want To Talk About You" -- Coltrane Live at Birdland
8. Eric Dolphy, "Out To Lunch" -- Out To Lunch
9. Kenny Garrett, "Human Nature" -- Miles Davis, Live Around the World
10. Dick Oatts, "Make Me Smile" -- Mel Lewis & The Jazz Orchestra, Featuring the Music of Bob Brookmeyer

Stolen Music

Saxophonists like to borrow things. Especially music from other instruments. Case in point: two of the works on my recent Miller Theater recital were co-opted from woodwind colleagues--Michael Gordon's The Low Quartet although originally for double bass, trombone, bari sax, and bass clarinet, had versions for four bassoons and four bass clarinets before I made the bari sax version; and Philip Glass' Piece in the Shape of a Square is acutally for two flutes, not two alto saxophones.

These are just two recent examples, but saxophonists engage in this transcription process fiercely--sometimes, well hopefully most of the time, winning the composer's approval. This is why the saxophone has in its repertoire two Berio Sequenzas (VIIb and IXb), Scelsi's Tre Pezzi, David Lang's Press Release, and the short and sweet A Tune from Childhood by Bright Sheng, just to name a few.

I often wonder why--yes, why, composers?--must we steal your wonderful music from other instruments?

Yo, yo what's up wit da clapping?

Did anybody see Yo-Yo Ma's performance of the Sarabande from Bach's 6th suite at the Academy Awards last night? The piece was supposed to serve as a requiem of sorts for the folks that passed away this past year. But the audience's clapping for the deceased, who had their pictures flashed on the giant screens as Mr. Ma played, was both annoying and distracting. What's up with these Hollywood-types? Don't they know how to act?

To FAN or CAN, that is the question

Two weeks ago, a friend of mine, the charismatic flutist Amy Porter, gave me an article she'd just reprinted in her flute club newsletter. The article, written by Derek Mithaug and excerpted from the Juilliard Journal, discusses the two ways in which most musicians approach their careers--they either FAN or CAN.

To FAN means to Find-A-Niche and is generally the easiest approach to consider. Students that FAN are looking for a niche in an established organization like an opera company, symphony orchestra, dance company, teaching position, or some other work like directing, presenting, marketing, or consulting, for example. In other words, the work is there for them, they simply need to learn the craft, distinguish themselves (not an easy task), and fit into the structure, which is already in place.

The other way to approach a career in music is to CAN, or to Create-A-Niche. Students who CAN like to create their own jobs. These students are entrepreneurial in nature and tend to be more independent-minded. To succeed as a CANner, you need to learn to certain skills beyond your craft--skills that will help you find jobs and succeed at them, like writing press releases, making phone calls, follow-up correspondence, fund raising, design, marketing, and so on. Certain musicians--like concert saxophonists, for example--have to follow a CAN model, since there are few established organizations in which to strive to become a permanent member.

Whether a student chooses to FAN or CAN depends on many factors, including ambition, musical ability, street smarts, and job availability. However, I also think that it's possible to combine aspects from each approach to make a career extremely rich (perhaps not exactly in the financial sense!) and rewarding.

Tales from the road

After 2000 miles, three successful recitals, one radio broadcast, one review in The New York Times, and many great memories, (and, of course, a wonderful review from David Salvage), I'm home.

What a trip. I actually set out last Sunday in order to get to New York for a Monday morning masterclass at the Manhattan School of Music. As I was leaving Michigan, I had the radio tuned to NPR and heard on the local news broadcast that over the last few days southeastern Michigan had experienced a dramatic spike in flu outbreaks. I'd actually sent a student home on Friday because he was coughing a lot during his lesson. I couldn't afford to get sick with the NY recital coming up. Had I escaped the plague? Well, as it turned out, I hadn't. I could feel my body telling me that something was wrong.

When I finally got to New York City ten hours later, I checked into the hostel I was supposed to stay at and then promptly checked out. Sure, it looks nice on the website . . . I couldn't even fit my saxophones, equipment, and suitcases in the room. Not to mention that the door didn't seem to close very tightly. I made an emergency reservation at the International House and was lucky to have gotten a room on such short notice. It was the "Middle East Suite." I won't forget it! It probably saved my performance.

The bad news was that I was getting sick. I could feel it. And it wasn't just a small cold. It was a flu-like illness. My sinuses ached and were in danger of closing up, which would make me completely incapable of playing Alvin Lucier's Spira Mirabilis since it requires me to circular breathe for nearly three minutes. My "stay healthy" regimen over the next three days included drinking about three gallons of water per day, zinc supplements, Sudafed every four hours, a one-a-day multivitamin, three Odwalla Citrus C-Monster beverages per day (1000% vitamin C per serving), and plenty of rest. I was so nervous about getting sick that I didn't go outside unless I was completely bundled up. This hat helped a lot. (It was pretty cold in New York City that week.)

When it was all said and done, I was able to hold the sickness at bay and turn in a great performance, feeling as though it was one of the best, if not the best, performance of my career. In fact, the Sudafed probably helped my performance of the Philip Glass work. See, there's no place in the work for me to clear my mouthpiece out if saliva starts to accumulate. The Sudafed dried me up so much that I wasn't producing any! A blessing in disguise? Probably not. I wish that I didn't have to deal with being sick, which finally set in the next day. (It's funny though, I must have pounded the illness so hard that it never fully developed and I only felt as if I had been sick, as in getting over it, not that I was sick.) However, I'm fortunate that everything turned out so positively and am looking forward to many more New York performances.