I saw the best pianist in the world Tuesday night.
Well, maybe not THE best, but one of the premier performing pianists in the world beat the shit out of some under-qualified grand at the local concert hall and did it unlike anyone I have or will ever see.
Concert pianists may be less popular than Arcade Fire, but they are better at making music. (Not necessarily making music up.) Play the following video, if you would:
This is a great pianist playing a great piece greatly. You don't need to watch (he looks like a dead person anyway), but listen for the intricacies and the emotions.
That's where it starts: emotion. That's why we invented music. We needed to get some emotions out so we started yelling, then we started making our yells sound good, chanting, making songs, and developing the invention that was music.
Emotion is why we seek out music. It fulfills the need for emotion in a very enjoyable way. It's why emo and metal and reggae are popular niche genres. And why my mom thinks all rappers are angry. Anyone talking that fast and loud must be mad at someone.
Anyway, music isn't only heard, it's also seen. Not literally, mind you, but you never listen to music without seeing things. Whether you're walking to class and a song comes on that perfectly aids your strut and puts all those mindless drones walking to class around you in their place, or it's a music video that gives the song a more concrete context, music and images were meant to accompany each other. That's why movies have songs and songs have videos.
As I sat in the second row of the Foellinger Concert Hall, all I saw was a piano. A grand, a big grand, but an old one that didn't have the sleek sports car look to it that you would expect for a piano player as prestigious as Mr. Andsnes. Mr. who? Oh, Leif Ove Andsnes is the name of the guy I saw. Anyway, this piano was respectable but certainly no sports car. It was pretty much all that was in front of me. A boring display, provided I couldn't see his hands.
When Mr. Andsnes came out, he looked for a second like the crowd made him nervous, then he remembered that he was about to wow the shit out of them, and his face turned to a look of disappointment, because he knew this place should be packed. Because he remembered how damn good he was.
He sat down at the bench, greeting the piano, took a breath and a moment, placed his hands on the keys, ready to begin. No, he wasn't ready. Not ready enough. He took them back down and took a couple more moments and thought whatever a pianist of his stature thinks before attacking. (That, or he couldn't remember how his piece started.) Then he begins.
Whoa. He makes the piano bend to his every whim, not only controlling what notes resound, but for how long, at what volume, and maybe this was just me, but carrying whichever message he so desired.
He started with some Beethoven. Let me take a second here. Beethoven is the fucking man. There's bad weed, there's good weed, and there's whatever KiD CuDi smokes (Maui Wowie is it?) that gets you high and shows you the secrets to life. Beethoven will get you high and show you the secrets to life. All of this according to my brother, because, uh, I don't listen to classical music (yet!).
Anyway, as he was playing this, I couldn't see his fingers, which I wanted to. After amusing myself by admiring his intense facial expressions, I did what Walt Disney has programmed me to do. I Fantasia'd. I closed my eyes, imagining the notes as events, lines, shapes, whatever. They sprung around, not necessarily to life, but nonetheless in a lively manner. This worked great for Beethoven. On his second piece, some Brahms ballades, I Fantasia'd too hard and began to dream a bit. I woke up as the piece was ending, but in my defense, I had been up for 14 hours on six hours sleep. Actually when I write that out it doesn't look that unreasonable. Damn. Anyway, at intermission I slugged a Coke and headed to the front row at a different position where I could see his hands.
He played some modern piece. Modern, uh, "classical" music? Sucks. It's awful and sounds like fleem-floom-fleh. Literally sing that aloud and you will hear what it sounds like. But, Andsnes poured everything he had into making those fleems and flehs into emotional expressions, and by golly he pulled it off. It's a stressful listen, one where you really hope the next note is a logical good-sounding transition from the last, most always to no avail. But I guess that's the point. My favorite moment of the concert occurred during this song.
He hits a chord with his hands, yanks them back to his sides, clenches his right hand into a fist (presumably his left as well) and lurches his upper torso forward and shoots the piano a look, as if he just found a piece of paper in the guts of the piano that reads "it's not actually your baby." (No, not a relieved look, he wanted the kid in this case.) Then, after a pause measured in heartbeats, he resumes playing.
The final piece, again Beethoven, was the most technically impressive of the four. His fingers went apeshit. It was awesome. The show wasn't over however, we did the whole "he's leaving, keep clapping, he's back, keep clapping, he's leaving, keep clapping, he's back, keep clapping, he's sitting down, shut up he's playing" thing and he played a modest encore, then we did the aforementioned clap routine again and he came out for a second encore and played us something to go home on. It is my mission (still in progress) to find out what the second one was. I don't know. Also there's no YouTube video because apparently that shit ain't allowed so I can't ask someone.
Anyway, I was amazed. He played the crap out of the piano. And, Hopefully you've been listening to Mr. Rubinstein. He's pretty damn good. Still not sold on the "classical music evokes emotion" thing yet? Good. Rubinstein's a chode. He's good, but he's got nothing on my boy Leif Ove Andsnes. Proof? Of course. Enjoy.
He, and his orchestra, play this song better. Way better (in God's opinion) than Mr. Rubinstein. Piano performance goes beyond hitting notes (what I thought it was in like third grade) and into unchartable realms of emotional expression. Andsnes speaks better through ivory keys than he does through his English, as he is from Norway (REPPIN'!).
After this concert, my roommate invited me to Piano Man, which has been brought up in this blog before. I decided that after seeing the best pianist I would ever see in my life, it wasn't in my best interests to watch some drunk guy hammer out approximated Lady Gaga while I frantically downed Long Island Iced Teas to catch up to my friends' lack of sobriety.
I've never appreciated classical music as much as I should, I mean, my mom took me to the symphony when I was like seven. I was so borrrrred. Only when they played, like, In the Hall of the Mountain King, could I get into it. But now I've grown up, and with half my family being classical musician fans (and the other half being stupid) (just kidding, guys) I can really appreciate why NPR plays that stuff to death. Its emotional ups and downs mirror the plight of life itself. Whoa.
--Eliot Sill
Showing posts with label Lady Gaga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lady Gaga. Show all posts
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
What can music do?
A year ago, I did not know who Arcade Fire was. I did not know that weird bands made normal music. Simply, I did not know what music could do to people.
I learned a ton of shit senior year, and one of the highlights of this wealth of knowledge I received was that good music is not dead. Frankly I wasn't sure. I hadn't really checked I guess. The TV and the Radio don't really like good music I guess, because they sure as hell do play Ke$ha a lot. Regardless, I was cultured enough by new friends this year to realize that rock bands still exist, which entranced me enough to purchase a $215 Lollapalooza ticket. Let me tell you, that's f*#king expensive. Anyway, I went this past weekend. So did a lot of my friends. So did Brendan. I know you just heard about this shit yesterday. I DONT GIVE A DAMNFUCK.
I had no expectations for my weekend. All I knew is that my friends and I were leaving Springfield behind, crashing on a floor at Sean O'Brien's apartment (if you read this Sean and Michelle, which you won't, thank you for your saintly hospitality, you guys are the COOLEST), and going to concerts every day for a whole weekend. Here's the thing. On another level, I had no expectations for what two of those three elements would be like. Sean's Chicago living situation? I dunno what that's like. No supervision around to police us? I dunno what that's like. And as far as my experience goes with rock concerts? Um, the Ataris played a show here in Springfield about a month ago. They weren't very good, just very loud. I went there. Oh, and get this, the only other shows I had seen were headlined by Band Practice! No experience at all basically! I had seen Glastonbury videos on Palladia and stuff, but I had no idea what being in the crowd would be like.
It was amazing.
There were four acts that I'm going to talk about today. The first one being MyNameIsJohnMichael. First off, their space bar was broken when they submitted their name I guess. It's really unfortunate, because it makes their band name really fucking stupid. The setting of this band was at the BMI stage, a more casual viewing stage with room for an idling audience and really a place to draw in passerby's who didn't necessarily have seeing your little band on their agenda. Also it was 11:15 in the morning. They were a total throw-in. 11:15 is too early to rock out and too late to play dreadfully slow but placidly pretty music. They started the show with about ten rows of crowd, and several people lounging around the area. The band wasn't a complete stranger to me, Robert had showed me one of their live performances that was YouTubed. I watched the first twenty seconds and then went back to whatever. Regardless, I randomly decided they were a priority. I ended up getting third row due to the passively spaced out crowd (more on this in a bit) and had no idea what I was in for. The band was obviously just starting to achieve remote popularity, because this was their first time playing in Chicago (they were from New Orleans). They played perfectly. The lead singer was pitting out, undoubtedly nervous, and engagingly entertaining. They recognized their spot for what it was, a complete bonus. They weren't what anyone was there for, yet they played exactly what the crowd needed to hear. They pepped up everyone in attendance and ended with a spectacular sequence in which three of the band's five members grabbed percussion instruments (one a bass drum, another a tom, and the third a trash can. The trash can was played with a chain, the other with mallets) and, after a minute or so of atmospheric scene setting keyboard chords coupled with thin and purposefully confidence lacking guitar chords, played a booming simplistic yet heavy (and as Robert described it, eerie) beat that really put a foundation under the song. All of a sudden it was a full roar we seemed to hear from the guitar and everyone in attendance seemed taken aback by the creativity, but moreso the effectiveness of said creativity. We were all taken from groggy impatient fans who were exhausted from a full plate of music the day prior to excited and pepped up fans who had seen something different and neat to start the day. Music can be quite the alarm clock.
Rewind. Day one. I had seen four shows. The Walkmen, who I had liked, but were apparently unimpressive as far as live bands go. Who knew? From there I saw twenty minutes or so of Jukebox the Ghost, a band I had looked up prior to Lolla and found amusing and not bad. They were good, but I mean, I didn't get much as far as seeing them or how they commanded the stage. Then I went to Cymbals Eat Guitars. I disliked them because of their loud crashing drums and lack of strength behind the other band members' instruments. But seriously, they were too loud and formulaic. I left them. Then I stumbled upon the New Pornographers. They were pleasing, but I wasn't really gripped by them, and so I left to go see Matt and Kim, because a couple of my friends were there that I wanted to meet up with. Now I had not heard of Matt and Kim. Their deal? I did not know it. I knew their name and that's it. Comparatively named artists? Belle & Sebastian and She & Him. That's who I was grading them against. Then they come out with this. Needless to say, they passed with a WTF+. I ended up not being able to find Robert and Caitlin for that show, but it didn't matter. I was trying to leave for twenty minutes because I wanted to see the Black Keys as well and I had found friends their previously so I figured I could do it again (I couldn't). The reason leaving took me so long is because the crowds were packed and I was distracted by how AWESOME Matt and Kim were. I couldn't help but jump up and down and listen to their awesome inter-song shpiels (who knows how to spell that word?). Music can inexplicably give you the need to party with people who you don't care to know.
Later on in the evening, I traveled to a mystical land where anything was possible, and sexual orientation was set back to zero by one crazy ass bitch. Lady Gaga was set to perform in front of roughly 80,000 intrigued/entranced/enthralled people. Gaga made these people her own. It was crazy. I met up with Peter Racine, but we were alone in a crowd of crazy fans of Gaga monsters. She drew all sorts of different fans. Some people were there because they liked her pop music more than Ke$ha's and Katy Perry's, others were there because her radical extreme insanity was liberating to them. Others, like me, were there just to see what the fuck was going on with this chick. The concert played like a broadway musical with super catchy music. She got the crowd going and kept them going for two hours. Dancing was everywhere. It was like an acid trip where Gaga was God and everyone else belonged to her. I think that's what she's going for. I feel her act is contrived to control people and that her insanity is something she takes off when she gets back to her dressing room. But who knows? Her mind must be a very interesting place. And when I say control people, I say it not in a manipulative sense where they do things for her, but just like, I don't know, she gets the feeling of supreme power from having these people do her every bidding. If Gaga says clap, you clap. If Gaga says "dance you mother fuckers!", you dance. If Gaga says "I want you to put both hands in the air, and I want you to grab the person next to you's hand, if you don't know 'em, who cares? Make a fuckin' friend." then you make yourself a fuckin' friend (I made friends with a girl in a Pink Girl costume (derivative of Greenman)). The point is, her fans are fiercely in love with her and it seems like she's using that as a gigantic boost to her ego. I respect her ability to do that. 80,000 people dancing to the beat of one person's ridiculous drum. Music can control you.
Fast forward. The day is Sunday. The strategy is simple: go to the stage that Arcade Fire is playing at, stay there, stay there, stay there, stay there, stay there, enjoy amazing seats to the best concert we'll ever see. From 11:15 to 10:00 at night, I moved approximately 5 yards total. The day started with rain and cool breeze. We bought ponchos. The Antlers performed. They finished. We waited. We socialized. The stage almost fell apart due to a light breeze. The rain stopped. The sun came out. The sun baked our asses. Blitzen Trapper performed. They finished. The sun continued toasting. Yeasayer performed. The sun did not quit. MGMT performed (excellently by the way). The sun finally fell behind the tall Chicago skyline, yet still the air burned with intense heat. Then we found ourselves a spot on the fence, front row. And then, something great happened. The sun finally died, the heat subsided, and out came Arcade Fire. They were welcomed with such praise you would have thought it was the Justice League or something. The band played a brilliant set, masterfully geared toward live performances. The elements to the band's atmospheric sound were brought out and enveloped the audience in that atmosphere. The band's seven members hopped from instrument to instrument and each combination was just as wonderful as the last (my personal favorite being two drum sets pounding simultaneously). Win Butler's vocals were even more saturated with emotion than on the band's recorded tracks, and Régine Chassagne's perfectly imperfect voice resonated with all 90,000 that were glued to the band's performance. Simply put, the band's performance transcended all that I had pictured live music to be. Nothing was lost and so much was gained. And when Butler lied wryly telling us that "Keep the Car Running" was the last song they'd be playing, no one bought it, but yet we were filled with excitement because we knew what was to come. The band came out for an encore and Butler proclaimed "we're only playing one song, and I want 'em to fuckin' hear it in a space station" everyone knew what to do. "Wake Up" was played, and it was absolutely beautiful from start to finish. That's the most people I've ever done something together with. And it felt pretty damn amazing. I'll be able to die in peace.
Music can save your soul.
Lollapalooza was a hell of an experience. I would recommend going at least once in your life. It changed mine, and I'm pretty sure it changed the lives of the other 240,000 people that attended as well. At least most of them. Live music is something that can either annoy you or make you feel like you've never felt before, and it's something that goes under-appreciated despite how much acclaim it already gets. These were just four of the twenty bands that I saw over the weekend, and all twenty left lasting impressions on me, for more than just how they sounded. Seeing a rockstar is also quite a thrill, I have to admit. I'll probably go to Lolla next year, but I know the Arcade Fire show was the best show I'll ever see (partially because I didn't see this one). So I encourage you, if you haven't already, experience live music. It changed my life in a damn good way, maybe it can do the same for you.
--Eliot Sill
I learned a ton of shit senior year, and one of the highlights of this wealth of knowledge I received was that good music is not dead. Frankly I wasn't sure. I hadn't really checked I guess. The TV and the Radio don't really like good music I guess, because they sure as hell do play Ke$ha a lot. Regardless, I was cultured enough by new friends this year to realize that rock bands still exist, which entranced me enough to purchase a $215 Lollapalooza ticket. Let me tell you, that's f*#king expensive. Anyway, I went this past weekend. So did a lot of my friends. So did Brendan. I know you just heard about this shit yesterday. I DONT GIVE A DAMNFUCK.
I had no expectations for my weekend. All I knew is that my friends and I were leaving Springfield behind, crashing on a floor at Sean O'Brien's apartment (if you read this Sean and Michelle, which you won't, thank you for your saintly hospitality, you guys are the COOLEST), and going to concerts every day for a whole weekend. Here's the thing. On another level, I had no expectations for what two of those three elements would be like. Sean's Chicago living situation? I dunno what that's like. No supervision around to police us? I dunno what that's like. And as far as my experience goes with rock concerts? Um, the Ataris played a show here in Springfield about a month ago. They weren't very good, just very loud. I went there. Oh, and get this, the only other shows I had seen were headlined by Band Practice! No experience at all basically! I had seen Glastonbury videos on Palladia and stuff, but I had no idea what being in the crowd would be like.
It was amazing.
There were four acts that I'm going to talk about today. The first one being MyNameIsJohnMichael. First off, their space bar was broken when they submitted their name I guess. It's really unfortunate, because it makes their band name really fucking stupid. The setting of this band was at the BMI stage, a more casual viewing stage with room for an idling audience and really a place to draw in passerby's who didn't necessarily have seeing your little band on their agenda. Also it was 11:15 in the morning. They were a total throw-in. 11:15 is too early to rock out and too late to play dreadfully slow but placidly pretty music. They started the show with about ten rows of crowd, and several people lounging around the area. The band wasn't a complete stranger to me, Robert had showed me one of their live performances that was YouTubed. I watched the first twenty seconds and then went back to whatever. Regardless, I randomly decided they were a priority. I ended up getting third row due to the passively spaced out crowd (more on this in a bit) and had no idea what I was in for. The band was obviously just starting to achieve remote popularity, because this was their first time playing in Chicago (they were from New Orleans). They played perfectly. The lead singer was pitting out, undoubtedly nervous, and engagingly entertaining. They recognized their spot for what it was, a complete bonus. They weren't what anyone was there for, yet they played exactly what the crowd needed to hear. They pepped up everyone in attendance and ended with a spectacular sequence in which three of the band's five members grabbed percussion instruments (one a bass drum, another a tom, and the third a trash can. The trash can was played with a chain, the other with mallets) and, after a minute or so of atmospheric scene setting keyboard chords coupled with thin and purposefully confidence lacking guitar chords, played a booming simplistic yet heavy (and as Robert described it, eerie) beat that really put a foundation under the song. All of a sudden it was a full roar we seemed to hear from the guitar and everyone in attendance seemed taken aback by the creativity, but moreso the effectiveness of said creativity. We were all taken from groggy impatient fans who were exhausted from a full plate of music the day prior to excited and pepped up fans who had seen something different and neat to start the day. Music can be quite the alarm clock.
Rewind. Day one. I had seen four shows. The Walkmen, who I had liked, but were apparently unimpressive as far as live bands go. Who knew? From there I saw twenty minutes or so of Jukebox the Ghost, a band I had looked up prior to Lolla and found amusing and not bad. They were good, but I mean, I didn't get much as far as seeing them or how they commanded the stage. Then I went to Cymbals Eat Guitars. I disliked them because of their loud crashing drums and lack of strength behind the other band members' instruments. But seriously, they were too loud and formulaic. I left them. Then I stumbled upon the New Pornographers. They were pleasing, but I wasn't really gripped by them, and so I left to go see Matt and Kim, because a couple of my friends were there that I wanted to meet up with. Now I had not heard of Matt and Kim. Their deal? I did not know it. I knew their name and that's it. Comparatively named artists? Belle & Sebastian and She & Him. That's who I was grading them against. Then they come out with this. Needless to say, they passed with a WTF+. I ended up not being able to find Robert and Caitlin for that show, but it didn't matter. I was trying to leave for twenty minutes because I wanted to see the Black Keys as well and I had found friends their previously so I figured I could do it again (I couldn't). The reason leaving took me so long is because the crowds were packed and I was distracted by how AWESOME Matt and Kim were. I couldn't help but jump up and down and listen to their awesome inter-song shpiels (who knows how to spell that word?). Music can inexplicably give you the need to party with people who you don't care to know.
Later on in the evening, I traveled to a mystical land where anything was possible, and sexual orientation was set back to zero by one crazy ass bitch. Lady Gaga was set to perform in front of roughly 80,000 intrigued/entranced/enthralled people. Gaga made these people her own. It was crazy. I met up with Peter Racine, but we were alone in a crowd of crazy fans of Gaga monsters. She drew all sorts of different fans. Some people were there because they liked her pop music more than Ke$ha's and Katy Perry's, others were there because her radical extreme insanity was liberating to them. Others, like me, were there just to see what the fuck was going on with this chick. The concert played like a broadway musical with super catchy music. She got the crowd going and kept them going for two hours. Dancing was everywhere. It was like an acid trip where Gaga was God and everyone else belonged to her. I think that's what she's going for. I feel her act is contrived to control people and that her insanity is something she takes off when she gets back to her dressing room. But who knows? Her mind must be a very interesting place. And when I say control people, I say it not in a manipulative sense where they do things for her, but just like, I don't know, she gets the feeling of supreme power from having these people do her every bidding. If Gaga says clap, you clap. If Gaga says "dance you mother fuckers!", you dance. If Gaga says "I want you to put both hands in the air, and I want you to grab the person next to you's hand, if you don't know 'em, who cares? Make a fuckin' friend." then you make yourself a fuckin' friend (I made friends with a girl in a Pink Girl costume (derivative of Greenman)). The point is, her fans are fiercely in love with her and it seems like she's using that as a gigantic boost to her ego. I respect her ability to do that. 80,000 people dancing to the beat of one person's ridiculous drum. Music can control you.
Fast forward. The day is Sunday. The strategy is simple: go to the stage that Arcade Fire is playing at, stay there, stay there, stay there, stay there, stay there, enjoy amazing seats to the best concert we'll ever see. From 11:15 to 10:00 at night, I moved approximately 5 yards total. The day started with rain and cool breeze. We bought ponchos. The Antlers performed. They finished. We waited. We socialized. The stage almost fell apart due to a light breeze. The rain stopped. The sun came out. The sun baked our asses. Blitzen Trapper performed. They finished. The sun continued toasting. Yeasayer performed. The sun did not quit. MGMT performed (excellently by the way). The sun finally fell behind the tall Chicago skyline, yet still the air burned with intense heat. Then we found ourselves a spot on the fence, front row. And then, something great happened. The sun finally died, the heat subsided, and out came Arcade Fire. They were welcomed with such praise you would have thought it was the Justice League or something. The band played a brilliant set, masterfully geared toward live performances. The elements to the band's atmospheric sound were brought out and enveloped the audience in that atmosphere. The band's seven members hopped from instrument to instrument and each combination was just as wonderful as the last (my personal favorite being two drum sets pounding simultaneously). Win Butler's vocals were even more saturated with emotion than on the band's recorded tracks, and Régine Chassagne's perfectly imperfect voice resonated with all 90,000 that were glued to the band's performance. Simply put, the band's performance transcended all that I had pictured live music to be. Nothing was lost and so much was gained. And when Butler lied wryly telling us that "Keep the Car Running" was the last song they'd be playing, no one bought it, but yet we were filled with excitement because we knew what was to come. The band came out for an encore and Butler proclaimed "we're only playing one song, and I want 'em to fuckin' hear it in a space station" everyone knew what to do. "Wake Up" was played, and it was absolutely beautiful from start to finish. That's the most people I've ever done something together with. And it felt pretty damn amazing. I'll be able to die in peace.
Music can save your soul.
Lollapalooza was a hell of an experience. I would recommend going at least once in your life. It changed mine, and I'm pretty sure it changed the lives of the other 240,000 people that attended as well. At least most of them. Live music is something that can either annoy you or make you feel like you've never felt before, and it's something that goes under-appreciated despite how much acclaim it already gets. These were just four of the twenty bands that I saw over the weekend, and all twenty left lasting impressions on me, for more than just how they sounded. Seeing a rockstar is also quite a thrill, I have to admit. I'll probably go to Lolla next year, but I know the Arcade Fire show was the best show I'll ever see (partially because I didn't see this one). So I encourage you, if you haven't already, experience live music. It changed my life in a damn good way, maybe it can do the same for you.
--Eliot Sill
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