Cogito Igor Sum

Stravinsky in the 1950's

"The piano itself is the center of my musical discoveries. Each note that I write is tried on it, and every relationship of notes is taken apart and heard on it again and again." - Igor Stravinsky

For most listeners, Igor Stravinsky is associated with the brilliant and sometimes exotic orchestral colors of his three French ballets: The Firebird, Petrushka, and The Rite of Spring, all composed before the twentieth century was two decades old. Despite his long life (he died in 1971, at the age of 88) and career, these works cast a long shadow over his oeuvre, and all of music ever since. A good part of this is due to the sheer pleasure of listening to these scores, with their visceral rhythms, indelible melodies and his masterful use of every instrument. There's also the fact that as time went on, Stravinsky's music grew ever more "logical" and abstract, and while still beautiful, presented a glassy surface that sometimes seemed as impenetrable and unknowable as the man himself.

This is one of the fascinating elements of Jenny Lin's expert and engaging new collection of Stravinsky's piano music, compiling as it does music from 1908 to 1967. This gives us an opportunity to take a tour, over the course of about an hour, through his entire sound world as heard through the sonorities of his favorite instrument. This is a sensible idea: as the quote above indicates, all of his compositions started on the piano. In fact, a good many people - musicians and others - first encountered the Rite in a transcription for piano, albeit for four hands.

Not surprisingly, a few of the works Lin includes are transcriptions or arrangements, two by Stravinsky himself, two by his son Soulima, and one by Guido Agosti. It's only in the last, a take on three movements of the Firebird Suite, itself a reduction of the original ballet music, that we feel another composer's hand. Agosti, a student of the great Ferruccio Busoni, somehow manages to make Stravinsky sound slightly old fashioned. However, Agosti does retain a good bit of the outlandish fun of the original and Lin dispatches its many challenges without difficulty. In fact, her playing is flawless throughout, with a dynamic sparkle that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

The album is not ordered chronologically, beginning with the Sonata from 1924, at the dawn of Stravinsky's neo-classical period. There's a slightly collage-like, even schizoid, effect to the way the trills and flourishes of an earlier age interact with his inborn modernism. The second movement feels very intimate in Lin's hands, as if she is channeling the composer while he searches out notes and "relationships of notes." Though the Sonata is one of the lengthier works here, it is still barely 11 minutes long. Concision was never a problem for Stravinsky, but there is no paucity of ideas in the Sonata or elsewhere.

While there is plenty of variety in Lin's selection, all the music is infused with the character of Stravinsky's formidable intellect and gimlet-eyed wit. It's a time-traveling journey that anyone with an interest in modern music should take, with only a few listens needed to expand most people's perceptions of the composer. For example, the lushly melodic Four Etudes from 1908, especially No. 1 in C Minor and No. 3 in E Minor, might surprise a few people with fixed ideas about the man, while the alien jazz of Ragtime (1918) and Piano-Rag-Music (1919) might reinforce those same ideas. "My knowledge of jazz," Stravinsky wrote much later, "was derived exclusively from copies of sheet music, and as I had never actually heard any of the music performed, I borrowed its rhythmic style not as played but as written." It was easier to be a brother from another planet in the days before you could see and hear everything from the comfort of your broadband connection.

There's another new project engineered to help you hear Stravinsky anew. This one is from The Bad Plus, an avant garde jazz trio of long standing, who have taken on the entirety of The Rite of Spring for their latest release (out March 25th). Consisting of bassist Reid Anderson, pianist Ethan Iverson, and drummer David King, the group is known both for their cerebral approach to jazz and for applying their style (with varying success) to covers of popular favorites by the likes of Nirvana, Neil Young, Pink Floyd, and others. Put those two things together, plus the fact that they have adapted works by Ligeti, Babbitt, and even Stravinsky, and you would seem to have a group scientifically designed to execute an adaptation of one of the most popular classical works by one of the most cerebral composers. And, for the most part, there is life in this test tube baby.

The effectiveness of some of the most minimal sections is a reflection of both the ingenuity of The Bad Plus and the durability of Stravinsky's conception. For example, the penultimate track, Evocation of the Ancestors/Ritual Action of the Ancestors, has sections consisting almost entirely of quiet bass and whispered drums yet you always feel located in the heart of the Rite. Throughout the record, the trio fruitfully mines the "composed jazz" territory of Jimmy Giuffre, Kenyon Hopkins and Shorty Rogers, especially during the louder, more hard-driving sections. On the whole, The Bad Plus tackle this seemingly quixotic mission with aplomb.

The album is not an unqualified success, however. The first track features some slightly wishy-washy electronics augmenting the trio and the fact that the sounds never reappear on the album lends them even less conviction. Also, I wouldn't have minded a little more playfulness overall. While I'm not suggesting The Bad Plus go the full Ralph Font, the po-faced atmosphere starts to feel a little suffocating at times. After all, unlike the Stravinsky of 1918, The Bad Plus have actually heard jazz and it wouldn't hurt if they had made that a little more apparent on this accomplished effort.

Note: Quotes taken and photo adapted from Harold C. Schonberg's invaluable book, The Lives of the Great Composers, Third Edition.

Are You Receiving?

Why do you like this? That was...interesting. That sounds weird! 


Having gotten those responses (and many others) to some of the music I've played for people, I thought it would be worth looking into the question of why I like what I like. When All Songs Considered asked a similar question on their blog, I posted a longwinded answer from which this adapted.


Well, there is the part of music that is a simulacrum of the in uturo experience, which is something every human from Hitler to Gandhi has in common. The rhythm of the heartbeat, the music of voices from without - these are the building blocks that compelled people to start making music 10,000+ years ago. It is said (by Francis Bebey in his fantastic book African Music: A People's Art, for one) that all of the first instruments were created in an attempt to imitate the human voice and other sounds made by the body. This leads to another basic part of music: communication. The griot tradition is very old and represents music's origins as a way to tell stories, spread news and recount history.

This is all just a grandiose way of saying that music is something that helps us feel connected to other people and that we are not alone.


Now, as to why a particular individual gravitates toward particular music...that must be due to the sum total of their experiences, starting with that time in uturo. I do think that people who are exposed to a broad range of art and culture of all kinds will probably be attracted to a broader range of music. My children (9 and 11) have heard everything from Mozart to Metallica, Stravinsky to Sleigh Bells, Beatles to Bolan, Boulez to Belafonte, Bon Iver, Black Uhuru, etc., etc, ad infinitum. Not to mention great art of all media. Is it just coincidence that they show no affinity for homogenized stuff like the Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus, which is aggressively marketed to them? I don't think so.

For me, I am attracted to a huge variety of music and usually left cold by mainstream artists like U2 or Springsteen or Beyonce. I want to find myself in the music, not be told what to feel or be confronted with icy perfection (unless it is mated to sardonic lyrics as in the sui generis sounds of Steely Dan). Music gives me energy and comfort, uplift and sorrow, intellectual stimulation, etc. and I seek out the music that does these things the best - to my ears.


None of the above explains why I strongly dislike Conor Oberst and M. Ward and find Andrew Bird tiresome after a few songs. These are all things critics I respect bring to my attention but that just don't work for me. Why do I like Shearwater but run screaming from Okkerville River? It can all be a bit of a mystery.


I remember reading the first reviews of Metal Box by Public Image Ltd., describing it as weird and nearly unlistenable. When I put it on, it just sounded right. Somehow my experiences from 1964 - 1979 just made that music fit with who I was. I still love that record.

Another example is Grace Jones. I am devoted to her music - the quirky voice, the fantastic Sly and Robbie rhythms, the outre subject matter. But friend of mine just says "She sounds weird," and shudders when I put it on. And when she talks about Johnny Mathis, it's my turn to shudder!


I also think it is quite typical for someone in their 40's as I am to slow down in their quest for new sounds and musical experiences. But I am continually on the hunt and even find myself going back to music that I've previously dismissed to see if my opinion has changed. I just don't want to miss out. Why do I feel to urge to evangelically spread the word about new discoveries when others are simply waiting for the next raft of Grammy winners to help them decide what to buy?


What about you? Are you satisfied with what the mainstream (such as it is in these fragmented times) delivers to you? How big is your musical universe and what do you think made it that way?


Next time: How I got crazy about music, Part 1.