...CD's are released from sessions you had forgotten you ever did. Two or three months ago my mother (who acts as my own live personal Google News Alert) told me about a review in the American Record Guide of a CD with my name on the personnel. Turns out Albany Records has just recently released a CD of the music of Michael Sahl, with a chamber work entitled "Jungles" that we recorded way back in the late 90's but which never came out until just now. Those sessions had completely slipped my mind until my mother read me the review.

"Jungles" is a kind of chamber-jazz-rock work featuring a prominent electric violin solo part, played brilliantly by Mary Rowell (of Ethel fame)...in fact I think Michael wrote the whole piece with Mary in mind. Sahl is a gifted melodist and his music is very appealing, mixing a kind of music theater/jazz language with classical forms. Hearing this piece again after so many years made me recall how effective it is. A kind of Seventies sensibility pervades the piece (in spite of having been written in 1990) and I find that irresistable. I loved playing this music. The disc (titled "In Fashion at Last") also has a long 35-minute solo piano work played by Joseph Kubera, and can be ordered through Amazon. You can also hear excerpts on this MP3 download-for-fee site.

I don't think there are any other recording sessions "in the can" floating around out there that I've forgotten. Coming up down the road, however: a release of the two Brahms viola sonatas and horn trio in Brahms' version for viola instead of horn, with violist David Harding and violinist Jonathan Crow.

Just a few weeks ago, I posted an entry about USC's bassoon wizard Peter Kolkay receiving a national honor from BMI. Right on the heels of that award, USC composition prof John Fitz Rogers has scooped up another nationally significant award for our community...The new music series "Southern Exposure," which Rogers created and curates and which gets mentioned often in this space, was just recognized with a national First Place Award jointly presented by ASCAP and Chamber Music America, for Adventurous Programming by a performing arts organization. While so many performers and composers are concentrated in the big urban areas (especially New York), struggling to make their mark in the new music field, creative smart people like Rogers have realized that it's possible to do something in a mid-sized community of great significance and moreover, to make a palpable impact on the cultural life of that community. Columbia certainly would be a less interesting place without this series.

If you STILL haven't been, let this news of the national attention Southern Exposure has received serve as a metaphorical "slap upside your head" to find out what you've been missing. The next concert in the series is February 1 at the USC School of Music Recital Hall. By the way, unlike the other concert series recognized by ASCAP in this round of awards, Southern Exposure's concerts are, astoundingly,  free. (As such though, they rely heavily on contributed support from music lovers, so if you want these concerts to continue and to grow, you know what to do...)

The first gig of the year finds me in Milwaukee, on one of my several visits per year to perform with the new music group, Present Music, now celebrating its remarkable twenty-fifth season. That season is being commemorated with an even more incredible eleven commissioned works. Two of the commissioned composers are here this week for the premieres of their pieces: Randall Woolf and Melissa Mazzoli. Also here this week is the veteran new-music accordionist and composer, Guy Klucevsek (South Carolinians reading this should make note that Klucevsek is appearing this year at the Spoleto Festival).

It's a lighter work week for me, with only a solo work by Philip Glass (Michael Riesman's transcription of the Finale to "Satyagraha") and Woolf's piece. His work is entitled "Motor City Requiem," and it's a beautiful 10-minute episodic fantasia and meditation for piano quintet and recorded/manipulated fragments of Motown classics, classics that were being created in the very years of Woolf's own childhood in Detroit. "Requiem" is a fitting title: the overall atmosphere is sad and haunting, and even the more energetic bits have a hollow, dissociative feeling about them. (Incidentally, if you really would like to delve into the sadness that is Detroit, there is no better place to do so than Lowell Boileau's exhaustive photodocumentation of "The Fabulous Ruins of Detroit.")

More information on the concert can be found here in the cover story this week from the Shepherd Express, Milwaukee's alternative newspaper. The concert will take place this Saturday evening, January 6, in the cavernous Santiago Calatrava-designed atrium of the Milwaukee Art Museum, and we're recording "Motor City Requiem" the next day. [photo: the ruins of the Michigan Central Railroad Station in Detroit, as seen in Godfrey Reggio's film "Naqoyqatsi."]

Yesterday one of the new features of the Peter Gelb era at the Metropolitan Opera made its debut. A Met production was digitally broadcast live into about a hundred movie theaters across the nation, in some cases in communities that have had little or no exposure to live opera. This first production broadcast yesterday was Mozart's "The Magic Flute", directed by Julie Taymor and condensed for this purpose into an intermissionless two-hour show.

There is no theater in Columbia carrying the Met series; the nearest ones are in Augusta, Greenville, and Charlotte. I took my 86-year-old mother to the Charlotte broadcast (at the Regal Stonecrest on Rea Road just off I-485 if you're interested), and I have to say, minus a couple of glitches, we had an absolutely marvelous time. It will be interesting to see reports on the blogosphere from various other broadcast locales to compare experiences nationwide. It was a strange feeling, assembling in a movie theater and knowing that thousands across the country were doing the same thing at the same time, experiencing Mozart's work simultaneously...a very different sensation than that you get knowing that millions are at home watching the Super Bowl the same time you are. There was something about this that combined the shared ritual aspect of attending a live performance with the technological possibilities that allowed for that sharing to expand to a scope unimaginable to Mozart. (But, as my mother pointed out afterwards, "This is really something like Scriabin had in mind, isn't it?")

I won't spend space here talking about the show itself; the production is spectacular and performances were mostly very fine. The Met is experienced at TV broadcasts for the small screen, so production choices for this broadcast seemed apt, camera angles and such well chosen. (David Patrick Stearns has written more on the technical aspects of the broadcasts here.) It was also smart thinking to choose "Magic Flute" as the opening salvo in this series. I had read elsewhere on the blogosphere that some theaters had sold out two or three weeks ahead of time...as I had no problem getting tickets online two days before this show, I wondered if the show would not be drawing as well there.

As it turned out, the theatre (a large fairly new one in swank suburbia south of the city) was nearly packed. But if Gelb intends for this venture to lure younger audiences to the opera experience, I'd have to say this particular audience demographic did not portend such a future outcome. My rough estimate is that 50% of the audience was 65 or over ("at least 50%," my mother says), another 40% was between 40 and 65, and certainly no more than 10% of the audience was under 40, and that includes a smattering of children.

An unscientific sampling of overheard remarks before and afterwards leads me to think that much of the audience at Saturday's broadcast was made up of those who attend Opera Carolina productions fairly regularly. From the standpoint of the many senior citizens who were present, it was actually a LESS comfortable performance experience than an opera house for a couple of reasons. For one thing, "stadium seating," now the norm at many theaters including this one, requires anybody who doesn't like to crane their neck and sit superclose to the screen to ascend steps to a more comfortable viewing distance, because you're basically entering at the bottom of the seating area. For my mother and many others yesterday, it was a great exertion to climb so many steps, and with no railing to boot. Naturally, in this day and age there are no ushers in movie theaters to help.

Perhaps because of the impossibility of predicting exactly when the broadcast would finish (unlike a regular film screening), it seemed nobody was "on duty" in the booth when this broadcast ended. The house lights failed to come up for several full minutes, meaning that those same senior citizens who had painstakingly ascended the many steps to their seats now had to rely on less-than-stellar night vision to descend, again with no railings to guide them.

And at the beginning of the broadcast, it was clear that sound volume was set at those deafening levels that one usually encounters with all "Coming Attractions" previews at the movies these days. Katie Couric's intro was piercing; the overture was outright rock-concert painful. At that point, looking at my poor mother with her fingers in her ears, I felt that we would probably have to bail out immediately. Fortunately, whether due to somebody running back to the booth to complain or for other reasons, there seemed to be an adjustment made within a few minutes to a more satisfactory level. After that, I'd have to say sound levels were pretty good and sound quality was surprisingly good.

But these are all small quibbles; I prefer my Magic Flute uncut and in German, but I still had a great time. And this combination of convenient distribution of the product (I loved the comfort of the movie theater seat and being able to "go to the Met" in jeans and with a New-Year's-weekend two-day-old growth of beard) with the aforementioned "ritual" nature of gathering in one place to share an artistic experience with others was very intriguing. It felt odd at first, then curiously natural, to applaud the movie screen after the famous Queen of the Night aria.

So I heartily recommend this experience for others, whether or not you are a confirmed opera fan or merely curious. If you want to hear and see world-class opera performances but don't want to get dressed up and still want to be able to pop out in the middle for some popcorn, do check this out. I imagine some of the other productions scheduled for this season will not draw as well, especially the new Tan Dun opera which has received generally negative reviews. But February 24, which brings Tchaikovsky's "Eugene Onegin" with Renee Fleming and Dmitri Hvorostovsky, should be a big seller, so you might want to lock in your tickets in advance. [update 1/3: here is a report in the New York Times that includes some reports from the various locales where the broadcast took place...evidently a few places had more serious glitches than Charlotte, but again, these should be able to be ironed out relatively quickly and the overall reaction everywhere seems to have been highly positive.]

There's been a lot of coverage in these parts about James Brown's death on Christmas Day; South Carolinians claim him as one of their own. There's also been a lot of talk about Brown's influence on hip-hop; since most young consumers of music today have a very short attention span and a very shaky grasp on music of the past, that emphasis is understandable. But to claim that influence (or the instances of Brown's music being sampled by rappers) is Brown's principal legacy is, I think, to miss the point.

Much as I admire and am fascinated by the aural constructions assembled in the studio by some hip-hop artists today, I'm still naturally partial to the kind of electricity and spontaneity that James Brown brought to live performance. More significantly, live music played on acoustic (albeit amplified) instruments by skilled, inspired, dedicated and versatile musicians was central to what we think of today as "James Brown." Like Duke Ellington or Frank Zappa, part of Brown's genius was to assemble the right musical "team" and then shape that band's efforts to realize his vision. Often Brown himself was the one on the receiving end of an idea generated from within the band; though he was always the "star," one always felt that the goal was greater than the individual. And what was the goal? The "funk," naturally.

Of all I've read in the last 48 hours, the only writer to get at this central aspect of Brown's legacy is Kelefa Sanneh in today's New York Times. It's a must-read. Also worth reading is this profile from 2002 in the New Yorker by Philip Gourevitch.