Mapping Music

Keeping track of my music collection became a real challenge at some point: it is a matter of time and number. I naturally remember my most recent acquisitions best. What about those I got 20 years ago?

The accepted schema for organization of music collections involves several variables:

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• The performer
• The title
• The genre
• The composer
• The recording release date

I have focused on two of these, in particular: the genre and composer. I have had the freedom to define my own genres, and that says a lot about how I experience music: I tend to think in terms of the musical sound and texture. The majority of my music collection was primarily solo instrumental, although that has changed. So, it should not come as a surprise that I have genres like “Clavichord,” “Harpsichord,” and “Piano.” Indeed, I have sometimes refined within a genre: to me there is a big difference between “French Harpsichord” and “German Harpsichord.”

This schema has evolved over the years. I used to have “Early Piano” and “Piano” as separate entities. A couple of years ago I consolidated them. In fact, I really should have more genres, but that becomes unwieldy. I have a single “Chamber Music” genre that covers a lot of ground, as does “Symphonic.” Recently I have tried to get my arms around my large collection so that I can identify “orphans”: albums that have fallen of my radar. For this I have turned to a class of software called “mind mapping.” Wikipedia defines a mind map as 'a diagram used to visually outline information.’

One could view a mind map as essentially a visual outline. In fact, most software will convert one to the other. Fancy mind mapping software lets you embed things that break that one-to-one mapping with entities like graphics, links to other mind maps, and even arbitrary files, like sound files. One particularly powerful tool is XMind. In trying to lay out my collection as a mind map I have come to a better understanding how I cognitively view music. As I said earlier, I tend to think in terms of the instrument. From there, do I partition by historical period or by location? Periods are difficult to nail down: there are too few and they are too imprecise. Various sources converge on something like the following:

• Medieval
• Renaissance
• Baroque
• Classical
• Romantic
• Modern

Does one classify a composer based on the birth date or death date, or does one classify a specific piece by composition date? Are both Emanuel Bach and Beethoven “Classical?” Is early Debussy “Romantic” and late Debussy as “Modern?”

I find that I generally lump all of one composer’s works together. So, I have come to the conclusion that sometimes it makes sense to organize by nationality. Even that has challenges: is Stravinsky really “Russian,” or “French?” Where do we put Chopin?

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What I have found is that classifying by nationality works best in many cases. A couple of important exceptions exist. I view the “Concerto” as a major genre by itself, and it makes the most sense to partition that by instrument the concerto features. Lutes are organized by type, which is closely associated with a period. Some major genres, like “Clavichord” and “Fortepiano” really don’t need the refinement of the harpsichord.

This is an ongoing project, but one that is already yielding benefits. It gives me a feel for how well spread out my collection is. And, ultimately when I drill down to the lowest level, I can get a feel for the composers I have chosen to focus on. This is a big project. Ultimately, I hope this will help me identify music in collection that I am overlooking and music that I have missed and should be in the collection.

Promises are Made to be Broken

How many times have I promised to not buy another recording—especially music of Sebastian Bach—because I already had too many? I have three versions of the English Suites, seven versions of the French Suites, thirteen of the Goldberg Variations, eight of Book I of the Well-Tempered Clavier, only three of Book II, six of the Partitas… You get the point.

So, what compelled me to buy András Schiff’s latest recording of both books of the Well Tempered Clavier? At least three factors came into play here. First of all, you can see Book II is clearly under-represented. Secondly, I could get a Studio resolution recording (44.1/24), and hope springs eternal that I will be at least sonically dazzled. Most importantly—and what really drove the search—was because it is András Schiff.

Schiff has always pleased. As he has gotten older, I think that his vision has grown; he takes more interpretive chances, to me his playing is direct, uncomplicated, and unfettered. I wanted to hear what he had to say about what I have previously declared some of my absolutely favorite music.

I was not disappointed. The sound was what I hoped. Schiff plays with great vigor, reminding me somewhat of the very early recording by Edwin Fischer. The recording has great spontaneity, rather like Glenn Gould without all of his annoying quirks.

Bach on the Piano

Arguments abound over which instrument is best suited for Bach. They are largely meaningless: Bach works with nearly everything, if treated with appropriate respect and sensitivity. Indeed, my most interesting recording of the Goldberg Variations is performed on over-dubbed guitar. The modern piano offers many strengths, if its features are not abused. The ability to subtly emphasize one voice over another results in an added dimension for the listener. The harpsichord must rely on articulation almost exclusively to properly separate the voices. The clavichord does provide control for dynamics, although limited. The modern piano has the advantages of both with a homogeneous sound with greater sustain for the notes, which makes it easier to make a singing, legato line. Fortunately, we don’t have to pick only one of these.

Schiff writes eloquently in the booklet about his avoidance of the piano’s sustain pedal, which is an anathema to historical purists. Schiff recounts his studies with the English harpsichordist George Malcom, who weaned him from any need for the pedal. Schiff also mentions that this remains a point of controversy with contemporary pianists, some of whom believe that avoiding the pedal is neither necessary, nor desirable. It is a moot point: there is absolutely no sense of loss or color in Schiff’s recordings.

Fun and Games with Digital Downloads

In searching for a digital version of this recording, I discovered that HDtracks sold the recording. Unfortunately, what is downloaded is 96 tracks for the two books in a jumbled order. In an ideal world, when one bought digital downloads, you could simply drag the files into iTunes and be done with it. In this case, I had to rather laboriously re-order the tracks so that they would be played in proper sequence. We must remember that digital downloads are still in their adolescence. Sadly, if you care about such details, you may find that you must tweak your library.

So much work has gone into my digital library that I have essentially triple redundancy in storage. I save the files on a disk array that can suffer two out of five disk failures before I lose anything. In addition, I periodically back all of that to an external disk. You can’t be too careful. Currently, I have 1182 albums with 22366 songs by 616 artists stored (in many cases a single album would consist of two or even more CDs).

The Album Booklet

Rarely have I had a recording booklet that was so worthy of note. There is an essay by Paul Griffiths titled Gate and Path that not only is a great read, but which provides useful advice for listening to the WTC. Indeed, useful advice about listening in general. As I mentioned, Schiff’ essay Senza pedale ma con tanti colori establishes what a clear thinker he is.

What a great combination: clarity of thought/clarity of performance! This recording is an eloquent addition to my library.

Free as a Goat

I was shocked to learn that a cousin assumed I didn’t like Yo-Yo Ma. I mounted an immediate defense, but I have to confess that I don’t own a single solo recording of his. Not strong evidence in favor of my claim. I do own recordings of chamber music with him along with Emanuel Ax and a variety of others, generally big names, too. Ma seems to like collaborating in music and doesn’t demand the spotlight for himself.

Upon reflection, I do have an unintentional prejudice against the “superstars” of performance. I dislike the reigning concert class system, which elevates artists to icons, guaranteeing their success. So many talented younger musicians are struggling because success seems to be more about marketing, rather than music.

I admire Yo-Yo Ma as an enormously positive influence: a virtuoso who feels no need to be a diva. I especially appreciate his reaching across today’s cultural schism to embrace a fusion of his art with a more popular mainstream. I think this is important. Classical music is in crisis, and if Yo-Yo manages to open a few young minds, there could be hope for the future. I wish more musicians of his stature would follow his lead, but perhaps you have to be one of the real super-superstars to pull that off. The general public seems to value specialization over creativity; when they hear a Rachmaninov piano concerto, they want to hear it by someone who has been proclaimed “the expert” in Rachmaninov. To be blunt, I suspect that much of this is in defense of ignorance: who’s going to criticize you for liking “the best?”

Why didn’t I own any of his “crossover” recordings, like his 1989 collaboration of Cole Porter with Stephane Grappelli, his 1992 collaboration with Bobby McFerrin, and his very popular 1996 recording of Appalachia Waltz? Shame on me!

I downloaded Ma’s most recent crossover collaboration, The Goat Rodeo Sessions, which is available as an 88.2/24 studio quality recording from HDtracks. In it he jams with some of the top names in bluegrass music, Edgar Meyer, Chris Thile, and Stuart Duncan. I am by no means an expert on bluegrass, although I have heard it all my life. I find it enjoyable in smallish doses: I find the notes busy and the harmonic landscape flat, but the texture and energy enchanting.

While The Goat Rodeo Sessions is influenced by bluegrass, I would say it is a very progressive, non-traditional bluegrass style: one that is heavily influenced by jazz and other popular music. The pieces are all original, not arrangements from the traditional repertoire. There is no attempt to turn the cello into a banjo, thank goodness! There is some really beautiful cello here, nicely offset by the twang of guitar, banjo, and mandolin, and supported by the bass. This is an interesting and energizing collaboration, with magnificent playing, a gorgeous sound, and some fresh tunes. Ma doesn’t dominate, nor would I expect him to: he seems to be the consummate partner, secure enough to not upstage his fellow musicians, brilliant enough to hold up his end of the bargain.

Let’s hope more musicians (and listeners) remember that music is music. A little change of scenery is just what is needed to escape the dreary staleness that can result from over-specialization.

iMperfect Audiophile

It is hard to believe that Apple’s iTunes has been a part of our lives for over a dozen years. It was a necessary ingredient to make the iPod the commercial success it became. Peering into the murky past, you may remember the MP3 players with their limited memory and awkward computer interfaces; a big one would have 32MB of memory; an iPod can have anywhere from 2GB to 64GB of memory—that is up to two-thousand times more storage. And, of course, iTunes is basically the only way to download your recordings onto an Apple device.

This is not to say that everyone has, does, or will like iTunes! Indeed, there is a universe of I-hate-Apple-no-matter-what cynics who will never budge. I can’t worry about them: they can go ahead and concoct their own home-brew solutions. Microsoft continues to botch their entry into the potentially lucrative media market with their Microsoft Media Center, which runs only on Microsoft platforms; it is like they are conspiring with Apple to keep iTunes the dominant media player.

However imperfect iTunes may be, its success now extends beyond the pairing with Apple’s iOS devices: it has become the prototype (or at least major influence) for most media player (and media server) software today. A key element of iTunes is the database structure it has established. Because so many people have built media libraries using iTunes, most competing media server products are essentially forced to support iTunes structure. So, Apple unwittingly became something of an open standards company. I find that ironic.

The number of companies trying to build a better iTunes is quickly dwindling, and investing in their new and possibly better database runs the risk of leaving you out on a limb, should they fail to gain momentum. A more practical approach is to build on top of iTunes, allowing it to manage the files and even control playback, and to fix its shortcomings. I was surprised how easy this has become. One runs into iTunes limitations the moment you want to use your computer to play back at high quality audio and still work on the computer.

Why not just plug some powered speakers into the audio out on the system, or simply play through the computer’s speakers? You can: that will give you adequate sound, and iTunes is designed well to do just that. But, what if you want to take that studio quality recording at 96K with 24-bit resolution and make it sound really great? You then need to direct the system audio to a DAC connected via a USB cable. You can then play music through that channel without anything extra, but what if you want your music to come out of your attached stereo, and everything else through the computer speakers? iTunes doesn’t make that separation possible. This is one of several limitations.

In my search for a solution to that simple problem, I ran into a very useful web article OS X Audio Players: Amarra, Audirvana, Pure Music, Fidelia, Decibel, and BitPerfect. Caveat emptor; try before you buy! All of these solutions connect into iTunes, as I have suggested above. Each has limitations; I eventually found the one with the least attractive user interface, Pure Music, worked the best for my needs. In fact, it over-achieves, with an option to do a lot of the work (digital signal processing, or “DSP”) that my DAC can do; fortunately, I can turn that off. Pure Music also solves some other shortcomings, such as playing FLAC audio files and auto-switching the sample rate.

Where does this leave us? A simple message: “iTunes GOOD, but not perfect, but it can be fixed” It is probably the right place to store your audio media, regardless of platform. Of course, if you are not using Microsoft or Apple, you have a different set of challenges: I can respect that, but I would rather spend my time actually listening to music.

How Low can you Go?

Prelude. First of all, take a look at the Wikipedia Tuba page. Did you have any idea what a rich—if brief—history this brass instrument has, and how complex the issues around its design are? I think most of us relegate the tuba to the back of the “you are not serious, are you?” category. Shame on us!

Now that you have oriented yourself, quick: what is the one important work for tuba you can name? Probably Ralph Vaughan William’s tuba concerto, and rightfully so. Back in the days of classical radio here (I fear I am referring to decades ago), periodically they would play this concerto, and I always liked it. Enough so that I have reminded myself many times that I should seek a recording. My beloved e|classical Daily Deal simplified that for me this morning by putting a recording by the Norwegian tuba virtuoso Øystein Baadsvik on special. Even better, it is a 24-bit studio quality recording.

Sadly, by the time you read this, it will no longer be on special ($5.94 for the 24-bit recording), but don’t let this stop you! Had I paid full price, I would have still been giddy with glee: this is one fabulous find. There is a moral to this: “you snooze, you lose!” What a wonderful morning ritual: first check what the daily deal is. As I have said repeatedly, people will spend as much money on a fancy latté that is soon consumed and gone forever.

Øystein Baadsvik is an interesting musician: not just a virtuoso tuba player, but one who is so dedicated to the instrument that solo is all he does; he is not aligned with a symphonic orchestra, but rather dedicated as a soloist! BIS boss RvB nails it precisely:

Listen to someone that treats his tuba with the agility of a flute.

Not only are the sound and performance superb, the program is nicely balanced. Don’t worry, this recording won’t push you into some bizarre avant-garde universe, which these talented progressive Scandinavian musicians are prone to doing. This is a thoroughly enjoyable and very tuneful program that show off the best of the tuba’s sonority. Of course, the opening concerto by Vaughan Williams is a pleaser, and I don’t remember hearing it play so effortlessly before. One can savor the low notes without fear that the high notes will sputter or screech.

The second concerto, by Alexander Arutiunian, is just as tuneful, and delightfully played as lightly as, well, by a flute! It is kind of an Armenian complement to Vaughan William’s very Englishness. But, wait! It gets better. An even lesser known Swedish composer Torbjörn Lundquist presents a kind of concerto in one movement, Landscape for tuba, piano, and orchestra; I find it quite engaging. Final concert is by John Williams. Yes, THE John Williams of the movie world. It turns out that Williams has carried a torch for the tuba for many years. His concerto reminds us what a skillful composer he is; dare I say the Korngold of our era. Let us hope that he composes more non-movie works so that he can be remembered for more than the opening tuba riff in Jaws.

If you didn’t take the tuba seriously before, you will now, and thank me for it. Actually, thanks should go to the artist.

Staier on Fire

Andreas Staier has been a favorite of mine for many years, just not on the harpsichord. Indeed, both his Haydn and Schubert recordings on fortepiano rank as favorites. I liked his Scarlatti on harpsichord, although they were not as unique as are Hantai’s. I said very unkind things in Tasteless Harpsichord, and I’ll stand by those words. But, I’ll have to take it all back with the release of his new …pour passer la mélancolie: Staier is on fire!

First of all, the recording has absolutely brilliant programming, combining Froberger, Louis Couperin, d’Angelbert, Clérambault (not heard often!), Fischer (This isn’t an all French program!), and Georg Muffat. What a great potpourri of seventeenth century composers, no two alike in style. In fact, almost every selection qualifies as one of the composer’s best, and that sets a challenge for the programmer: while each piece is recognized and revered, selecting those that work together, rather than forming one big mishmash of warhorses, requires a lot of sensitivity. Staier pulls it off and may have created one of the best introductions to the seventeenth century solo keyboard literature.

It opens and closes with Froberger: “Plaincte faite à Londres pour passer la Melancolie la quelle se joüe lentement et à discretion,” provides the title track, so to speak. The recording ends with his “Lamento sopra la dolorosa perdita della Real Mstà. di
Ferdinando IV, Ré de’ Romani etc.” Froberger’s star has certainly risen over the last couple of decades, with several of his works, including both of these, achieving worn and over-played status; thankfully, he didn’t include the wonderful but grossly overexposed “Tombeau Fait A Paris Sur La Mort De Monsieur Blancheroche”. Staier has his own voice, giving new life: straightforward, with perfect control and articulation, not lapsing into sentimentality. I don’t know that we need another all-Froberger anthology, but I found Staier unique, interesting, and persuasive.

A great test of a musician are any of the unmeasured preludes, which easily end up sounding like a jumble of notes. I have found that French harpsichordists generally manage best to imbue these vague frameworks with the right amount of subtlety and structure. Staier pulls them off with I will try to describe as a “German directness.” I mean this is the best possible way.

On occasion Staier almost lapses into the kind of metric muddle I so disliked in “Hamburg 1734,” but only in the Muffat and Fischer, not in the French pieces, and not enough to ruin my enjoyment of them. (Froberger may have been technically German, but I consider him a French composer.) Clearly, this is intentional on Staier’s part and I guess that my perception must be my own ignorance at work.

The second thing about this recording is the actual recording quality: one of the sonically best recordings of the harpsichord in my entire collection. Indeed, I downloaded this as a 96/24 studio quality, and it sparkles, has depth, sounding like it is in my living room. Even listening to it on a lowly iPod reveals a simply magnificent sound, devoid of background rumble. The instrument itself is a rescued seventeenth century instrument that has the warmth and clarity this music benefits from.

This recording is Staier at his best, reminding me what an important musician he is. I keep hoping that seventeenth century keyboard music will gain greater recognition and popularity. This is a good starting point to promote it.

Wagner Without Words

Today’s blog is prompted by my habit of checking e|classical’s Daily Deals every morning. I would not seriously accuse myself of having a purchasing addiction; for about five bucks you can buy a fancy latté, which will be consumed in minutes, or a recording that will endure for decades. Besides which, I can stop any time, honest! Not every morning presents me with a viable suggestion, but that is fortunate.

One thing for certain: it is a blessing that these are digital downloads, and not physical media. I can barely manage the 1,200+ CDs I have packed away in cases, boxes, and just sitting around waiting to get filed somewhere.

This morning’s treat was arrangements of Wagner for two pianos. All but one of the arrangements were by Max Reger (the other by Paul Dukas), and all demonstrate a keen sensitivity to the music. The performers are Yukie Nagai and Dag Achats, neither of whom I would know, were it not for BIS. Indeed, I now have several recordings with Yukie Nagai, born in Japan and apparently relocated to Sweden; I find her a reliable source of both technique and musicality. Although I haven’t run into Dag Achats before, he is a fine musical companion and I wouldn’t hesitate to purchase additional recordings by both.

I don’t know if I should admit it, but I dislike most Wagnerian singing. And, I find his operas (most operas, in fact) just too long. So, instrumental extracts of his operas is wonderful. Some of Glenn Gould’s most brilliant playing was of his own “arrangements” of Wagner: this was as far away from his Bach as possible. Indeed, I find Gould much less arbitrary and better mannered when he performs late literature. Few people will correctly identify his Grieg, Sibelius, Richard Strauss, or Wagner unless they already know it well.

Another favorite of mine is “The Ring Without Words,” conducted by Lorin Maazel and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. This is a nearly 70 minute suite of carefully selected highlights from the Ring that is a delight from start to finish.

Getting back to the Reger arrangements: the CD notes are fascinating. They point out just how important these arrangements would be at a time when not everyone could attend the opera—and how they were Reger’s early introduction. Reger’s arrangements are sensitive and masterful. What can I say: the best five bucks I’ll spend today, I’m sure.