The comedian
Jerry Seinfeld once did a bit where he wondered what aliens landing
on earth would make of dogs and their owners. Seeing members of one
species following those of another, picking up their poop and
carrying it around in a little bag, which would the aliens consider
to be the masters?
The thought
crossed my mind the other day while playing The Planets with a click
track syncing the live orchestra to a film. While both dog and owner
are at least living creatures, the subservience of something alive to
something not alive is problematic, at least when considering that
the 'live-ness' of the music is supposed to be one of ts most
compelling features.
Strangely, the
most 'real' imagery from the Planets film was shot by the robots sent
to Mars a few years back, actual photographs taken by real cameras as
opposed to digital animations. Whether in service of our curiosity
or merely our vanity, those machines nevertheless operated at the
behest of humankind. With technology at our disposal capable of
sending a robot to another planet with enough artificial intelligence
to roam around for months taking pictures and doing experiments, I am
certain it would be possible to arrange somehow that moving images,
digitally created and mechanically reproduced could be made to follow
a live performance of The Planets. Technology in the service of, if
not humanity, at least art. Making a hundred or so highly skilled
performers slaves to a click track in order to sync to a film left us
holding the bag, so to speak.
The
one more or less normal concert of the week took place on Thursday
evening – the Holst, which was paired with the Grieg piano concerto
took place on Tuesday – when Gianandrea Noseda lead an all
Rachmaninov program. Noseda is an upbeat sort of fellow, although
not cloyingly so, and almost in spite of myself I have come to enjoy
working with him. It didn't take much to make this a high point in an
otherwise lowly week.
After
two 'classical' concerts in a row, you could pretty much guess what
was in store for Sunday at 5 PM. If a pitcher throws two strikes in
a row, right down the middle, you can bet good money the third will
be way outside, or in the dirt.
Ann
Hampton Calloway has a great voice and probably deserves to have her
own show. The same could be said for the orchestra, I suppose. It
seems as if the critics are finally noticing that a large,
late-romantic sized orchestra, a jazz combo, and the great American
songbook don't necessarily go together. Sometimes when 'pop' acts
get onstage with us, their slick showbiz antics cause a few eyes to
roll. The Sunday show was in no danger of eliciting that sort of
reaction as it dipped below even a minimal level of professionalism.
