The Invidious Mr. Creighton

Courtesy of the Random Complaint Generator:

At times, we all have an axe to grind. Currently, I'm grinding my axe in regards to Mr. Steve Creighton's insults. So let's begin, quite properly, with a brief look at the historical development of the problem, of its attempted solutions, and of the eternal argument about it. With all due respect, if he has spurred us to turn random, senseless violence into meaningful action, then Mr. Creighton may have accomplished a useful thing. He has been deluding people into believing that he has mystical powers of divination and prophecy. Don't let him delude you, too.

If you delve deeply into Mr. Creighton's op-ed pieces and thus, in tranquil clarity, submit to contemplation the expositions of disaffected hellions, you will indubitably discover why Mr. Creighton is terrified that there might be an absolute reality outside himself, a reality that is what it is, regardless of his wishes, theories, hopes, daydreams, or decrees. There are no two ways about it; one could truthfully say that his behavior is beneath contempt. But saying that would miss the real point, which is that I have never been in favor of being gratuitously insecure. I have also never been in favor of sticking my head in the sand or of refusing to reveal the constant tension between centripetal and centrifugal forces of dialogized heteroglossia resulting from his opuscula. Take a good, close look at yourself, Mr. Creighton. What you'll probably find is that you're invidious. Let me close by reminding you that the statements I made about Mr. Steve Creighton in this letter are in earnest. I will not equivocate. I will not excuse. I will not retreat a single inch. And I will be heard.

And that's all I have to say about that. Dirks referred me to this site or its precursor several years ago, and he somehow hit upon Creighton as the obvious choice of subject with which to provide a sample. The last sentence of that one was "A day without Steve Creighton is like a day without uncontrollable nihilism."

Try it sometime, it's very cathartic. Although sometimes I think being gratuitously insecure has its good points.

More Shostakovich at the BSO

I was feeling like skipping a rehearsal two weeks ago, then Allen called at like 5 o'clock that day and asked if I could fill in as accompanist, so of course I said sure. So then last week I was still feeling like skipping a rehearsal (no one's fault, it's Brahms Requiem), the family was spending the day at Six Flags (school vacation week), so I decided somewhat impulsively to go catch Kurt Masur conduct the BSO. Vadim Repin was the guest soloist playing the First Shostakovich Violin Concerto. Never did see a review of this program in the Globe (must've run out of space with the coverage of the Menudo Reunion Tour or something equally momentous).

I have two recordings of this, one with Oistrakh and one with Vengerov. In fact I heard Vengerov play this in Chicago back in '99 with Rostropovich conducting. At that time I don't think I had any recordings, and it's not a work that bowls you over on first hearing. It's in four movements, and the 1st and 3rd are slow, brooding, there's definite melody but they are long meandering lines that take a few hearings to catch on. For a concerto, it's really more symphonic, the solo part isn't particularly showy, and as often happens in Shostakovich the fourth movement can't sustain the build-up of the first three.

Several extended passages, particularly in the 3rd movement, are in octaves in the solo part, and in the Vengerov recording these sound kind of harsh and strident, I don't know if it's the sound engineering or the violin. Repin didn't have this problem, I think he did a more convincing job of conveying the lyricism of the slow movements, knowing more instinctively when to back off and when to stretch things out. In the faster movements, though, he was a little on the careful side, without the abandon you get from the Vengerov/Rostropovich that makes these folk-like melodies take off when the orchestration really lets loose. When it's all over a good 40 minutes have gone by, and for such an unfamiliar work the audience was wildly appreciative.

The second half of the program was Bruckner 4, not exactly the shortest symphony there is (the lights didn't come up until about 10:20). Masur conducted with no score and no baton and knew exactly what he wanted and where he was going, shaping the phrase with his upper body rather than just beating time, he was practically dancing on the podium at some points. Although I've listened to recordings of this symphony a few times, the slow movements don't stick with me at all, but the brass parts are instantly recognizable. This is probably true of most Bruckner. Hadn't heard this one live before, I think that always helps Bruckner's cause. Some people around me were getting a little antsy with all the false climaxes in the 4th movement, but you definitely got your money's worth with this program.

New Baby Boy Bartlett!

Don't drop your teeth, I had nothing to do with it. Scott and Shelley have conspired to produce the second Bartlett boy of his generation.



Fletcher Mark Bartlett was born on April 12. You can see more info here, at least for a few months yet. Mom says he looks nothing like that, though, but there's definitely that Grandpa Bartlett resemblance there. We're off to see for ourselves in a couple of weeks. Justin's excited that he's not the only boy on that side of the family any more. Alexa and Ashley are excited to have an honorary baby brother. In fact, everyone is excited. Cigars all around!