June 04, 2014, 08:12 AM posted by Maria Choban

More than anything I love falling in love. I prefer when it comes out of left field, totally unexpected as it did with Will in the World -- the terrific Perry Mason-like biography of Shakespeare written by Stephen Greenblatt (And isn't it true, Mr. Burger, that Will's father's decline might have been attributed to alcoholism . . . . ?). Never having been a fan of Shakespeare, with this bio I not only fell in love with the author, I am also reconsidering a reconciliation with the playwright. I have never been a fan of musicals but I was cajoled into helping out in the band with Homomentum and I fell in love with its creator, Max Voltage, the cast, crew and band. When was the last time I heard ANY album, concert (much less musical) with 20 songs -- most of them written by Voltage -- that covered country, rock, cheese, Celtic, classical, blues and much much more with intelligence and HOOKS! ?

I am nearly immune, almost predisposed to rebuff what I consider in Portland to be a hybrid of emperor's new clothes with much too much polite acceptance of accredited acts or ensembles or shows or whatever. Call me a curmudgeon, my partner certainly does. In my defense, I have never been wrong when I've been dragged to these hybrids. It's not that these acts are terrible, it's just that they're not magic and I want magic!!! (although too often they are terrible).

Last Sunday I capped my concert filled weekend attending Portland State's choir concert. I was not dragged. I went because my nose has been itching to see Ethan Sperry, director of that school's choir programs, for over a year. In classic form, I was not an Ethan Sperry fan after a first introduction at a party. Staying true to classic form, I am now a groupie. My nose operates differently from my highly reactive personal emotions. It itched even harder after that party. I always trust my nose. When Sperry took the stage for the first piece he conducted well into the second half of the PSU show, everything flipped to hi-def. He moves spastically like David Byrne. His moves are sexier than Byrne's don't ask me why. I've seen both men live now. I think it's because Sperry has more heat and less kitsch. The Man Choir he was directing responded with equal heat. There was so much testosterone flying I nearly dove off my first row balcony seat and into the middle of that morass. Like the Lear production I saw a few weeks ago, the entire meh concert was worth these precious moments. I want to see Sperry march onto Portland's choir scene with a handpicked underground choir. I want Sperry to show us what magic really is. Make no mistake, this man over-prepares his choirs as evidenced by the national and international awards his choirs have won. This extra layer of raw rock&roll heat is lacquered over well rehearsed content. I am not a choral nerd, but I am a starstruck Sperry groupie and I'll catch anything I can that he puts on, or that Max Voltage produces/directs or Scott Palmer or . . . .

May 26, 2014, 06:12 AM posted by Maria Choban

The happiest I am these days is wheelbarrowing aged mellowed horse manure from an old Chevy pickup down a gravel lane and back up into my garden beds. There is a metaphor at work here and I'm determined to find it. I am as played out as what? a garden planted without crop rotation for too long? Not my garden. I've neglected it and allowed the native plants to over populate with thistle, grasses, dandelions. It thrived in this wild state for years, much to the consternation of my tidier neighbors.

Transitions feel like purgatory. When will I ascend into that heavenly state of flow again?

Maybe the metaphor is backwards. Maybe I ought to look at my own life and apply those lessons to my mostly tabula rasa garden beds:

1. Space out the seasonal work

2. Less is more

3. Know the difference between organic healthy horseshit and ordinary bullshit

May 19, 2014, 10:16 AM posted by Maria Choban

All Night Long: "Are you playing tonight?"

Me: "No -- just drinking."

I was at The Waypost checking out Muse:Forward. This AFTER three-and-a-half hours of Lear produced by the British National Theater (broadcast in hi-def on a big screen at the World Trade Center). And this follows last week's 2 plays: Kaddish for Bernie Madoff and Learn to be Latina.

If I knew anything about theater I'd be a critic. Northrop Frye's Anatomy of Criticism sits on my shelf unread. I bought it several years ago. I am, however, a diligent student of Men on Films (In Living Color):

Kaddish for Bernie Madoff: "Hated it!" (too cute and superficial for a subject -- Madoff -- so complex; music SUCKED!!!!!)

Learn to be Latina: "Hated it!" (too sophomoric and dated. The political-incorrectness was nowhere mean enough to depict the heinous hurtful narcissism of the recording industry)

Lear: "Hated it!" . . . . except for the scene when Lear discovers the sightless Gloucester. I give that scene "two snaps with a twist and a kiss". Audible sobs bubbled up around me (my own included) as Simon Russell Beale's Lear tenderly and with gentle humor tried to cheer up the loyal Earl. The entire 2.5 hours is worth sitting through for that one scene well into the second half. Otherwise, too many clever camera shots -- erasing Gloucester in one of the scenes (making me wonder whether Mendez meant for Lear to have hallucinated Gloucestor . . . . . . . until the camera panned away and we found him again; he had moved further upstage) and in general too up close and personal for the huge room it played (mugging faces dissipate and look natural out in the audience). The first half played like a tribute to Reservoir Dogs except that Sam Mendez, Lear's director, is more like a one-dimensional Rodriguez and less like the 2 dimensional Tarantino whose cartoon caricatures I adore, Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs being 2 of my favorite movies. I really want Tarantino to direct opera.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, now quaffing a terrific cherry cider while listening to an accordion player accompany his very excellent own vocals on Walkin' After Midnight followed by a noise artist, I'm feeling very warm and fuzzy about Muse:Forward's debut. Clarity will come later.

May 16, 2014, 07:18 AM posted by Maria Choban

Now I see how it happens. You start just being yourself, you get a bit of exposure as a public writer. You get lucky with a great editor . . . . . . and poof! Suddenly you lose the ability to be yourself; to mine through an unimpeded conduit your gut. Suddenly everything has to be polished before you type the words. Filters go up. Where's my beautiful anger - my muse? The trouble with exposure is that it can neuter you if you let it.

This is a process. Do I want to be a writer? Or do I want to be a dilettante? It's so much easier with music because I was born into that environment -- complete with hard-ass teacher, hard-ass parent and constant nagging to practice. I don't know any different plus it suits me. As an introvert, spending hours/days/months with a score is like giving an alcoholic a case of fine single-malt and a cabin in the woods.

I deliver on time, under budget and with spectacular charisma, depth and results. BUT I also do only what I want -- which in theory sounds great. However, it means I don't push myself. I stubbornly refuse to grow. And yet, I am petrified of calcifying, of turning diamond hard and small-minded. I react with anger when this is mirrored around me -- as it is now being mirrored in the classical music community in my own home town. Where ClassicalRevolutionPDX was once an incubator for everything -- past/present/future both in music performed and performers' background training, now I see fissures. The traditionalists within CRPDX are much like me, or at least I am reacting to the mirror I perceive: Recalcitrant, wanting to do only what they are comfortable doing or being exposed to, rejecting from fear (or, in my case - laziness) the new, the outside-the-box.

I want to scream "GROW THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!!!" and I realize I'm screaming at me.

At any rate, I wrote a preview on Oregon ArtsWatch detailing this melee. Read it and leave your comments if you want.

May 02, 2014, 12:20 PM posted by Maria Choban

Anyone who thinks classical music is dead should have been at the Oregon Symphony on April 26th. A sold-out house of mid-30's and younger fans, screaming like they were at a rock concert after every piece, as quiet as the regular OSO audience during the pieces - what the hell ??

The reason? Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy, featuring the soundtracks of Nobuo Uematsu (the Beethoven of video game music).

How fun it must have been in the orchestra playing for THIS crowd! I was further stunned with producer and conductor Arnie Roth's genuine graciousness and love of the music, the game and (wait for it . . . .) THE AUDIENCE!!!!! - telling us at least three times how we made this dream come true this touring the music from Final Fantasy! Roth's banter with the audience elicited the type of responses you get at an instrument smashing rock concert or a European soccer game - the earth moved under my feet.

Read my fun (and controversial) preview of this concert on Oregon ArtsWatch where I claim

"I think that computer games are doing more to revive classical music composition than all the academies in the world combined. Conservatively, 55 million copies of Final Fantasy have been sold from its inception in 1987 thru 2011. Even assuming that some of those buyers upgraded from previous versions, that's tens of millions of users, starting at early ages, playing Final Fantasy every day for at least an hour, listening to what I assert is every bit as much "classical" music as John Williams's."

March 30, 2014, 05:44 AM posted by Maria Choban

"Getting a (wood) stove to work isn't like playing the piano, it takes skill."

This Can Be YOU!
March 25, 2014, 05:55 AM posted by Maria Choban

"absolutely the best classical music concert of the season so far" Oregon ArtsWatch, March 21, 2013

Here's a taste of what Jana Hanchett wrote regarding the tribute concert to Tomas Svoboda MC Hammered Klavier and friends presented on March 15, 2014.

"Tomas Svoboda's sound is like no other sound you'll hear in classical music," proclaimed Maria Choban from the stage of Portland's Community Music Center last Saturday, her face glowing with electric energy. "It's trashy and thrashing and so fuckin' loud! Tomas Svoboda understands everyday life. He's not esoteric. He's not academic. He's really rock and roll!" The full-house audience, over 150 people, whooped approvingly after every piece and gave Choban's piano transcription of Storm Session, originally meant for electric guitar and electric bass, a full minute's worth of applause. Here's what made the evening of March 15 absolutely the best classical music concert of the season so far:

Hanchett's dissection of the concert and what made it so successful is nothing I haven't articulated and shared (nagged y'all!) on this blog after every MCHK concert.

BUT, like every parent or best friend or spouse knows, it always sounds better coming from someone else! So I'm letting Hanchett do the debriefing this time. Click HERE! and scroll one-third of the way down until you get to the subheading "A Storm of Svoboda" and start reading the entire article and the keys to success in your own concerts!

March 19, 2014, 10:17 AM posted by Maria Choban

My 5 year old student came racing in for his weekly lesson yesterday screaming "I LOVED YOUR SONGS!!!!" He was in the audience at "Storm Session" the concert in tribute to Tomas Svoboda that I presented on March 15 - four days ago. His daddy, who is also learning to play piano said "This is exactly the kind of classical concert I've always wanted to see!"

But the greatest part . . . . .

I replied to the 5 year old "Next time you're sitting on the stage!" (we put overflow parking on the stage this year :-) "In fact" I continued, "You're sitting with ME on the piano bench!"

And he thoughtfully and ebulliently responded with really wide eyes "Can I bring my drum and play it?"

Do they get any cuter than this?!?

photo by Leo Daedalus

March 18, 2014, 03:13 PM posted by Maria Choban

1. Nancy Wood staring at the ceiling of The Old Church, trying to follow the bird that got away, singing Jeff Winslow's Cat Tale with Jeff Winslow at the piano. I knew I was in for something NOT art-song-like when they both came out sporting t-shirts with "Who's Your Kitty?" on them, with Cheshire cats grinning at us!

2. Chris Allen intoning words about Bill Colvig, penned by his life and work partner of 33 years, Lou Harrison. The one-two punch delivered by Mario Diaz tenderly playing For Bill and Me on guitar, written by Lou Harrison. I cried as did many in the audience. This was Allen's stage debut and he won the "audition" for the gig at the dress rehearsal 2 hours earlier when I asked him to read the script and make me cry - which he obligingly did.

3. Tomas Svoboda trying to one-up me with "No, YOU Rock!" I won because he was laughing too hard after we went back and forth 23 times. not kidding!

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