Spiders, clocks and Valkyries

Crafty, nubile Rhinemaidens (Woglinde, Wellgunde, Floßhilde) tease the dwarf Alberich as he reaches out for one of them -- the scene that begins The Ring.
Illustration to Richard Wagner's Das Rheingold/Wikimedia

The week is sure to be epic. By this time next Sunday I will have (somehow) absorbed nearly 20 hours of Wagnerian opera. Tuesday evening marks the first installment of Der Ring Des Nibelungen, a four-part opera-to-end-all-operas.Woody Allen once said that Wagner left him with an urge to invade Poland, we'll see what it does to me.

Rhine scene from the San Francisco production/SFOpera.com

I've been trying to do my homework to prepare for the ordeal event. Though, it seems, I won't be nearly as well-versed as I should be. I checked George Martin's Opera Companion out from the library and, turning to the Ring section was welcomed by this cheery advice:

[The Ring] requires considerable work: reading at least two books in addition to the libretto and spending several hours at the piano or victrola. If the opera goer does not care to put in that time or has not done so, he would do better to stay home, even if offered free seats.

I'm sorry Martin, stuff it. I'm going. I've neither read the libretto nor sat down at the victrola, but at my side I'll have (in spirit) Anna Russel, comedienne and Ring-interpreter extraordinaire, and (in person) Emilia, sweet and virtuous friend. Somehow the three of us will make it through. {Cue Valkyrie music.}

Part of the reason I haven't been spending hours at the piano with Wagner's score is that I've started writing for Wired Science on Wired.com once again. It's keeping me busy, caffeinated and happy. My two most recent pieces: A gallery of the world's most impressive time-keeping devices and a video of spiders in space. Stay tuned for more.

Music to write to: Andrew Bird, The Decemberists & Afriki Djigui Theatri

Montreaux Jazz Fest/D. Venton

Santa Cruz is a wet, windy, stormy place this week. This prevents me and my fellow SciComrades from venturing outside while we're on Spring Break. Surely this isn't legal. So, as the rhythm of the rain pounds on my roof persistently, I’d like to offer rhythms of a different nature: A listing of my favorite music and artists to listen to while writing. Please submit your own favorites in the comments.

The best artist I’ve found to write along to is hands down, violin bows up, Andrew Bird. His music is beautiful, looping and lyrical. Something about his dual continuity and innovation help me gather momentum -- particularly if I’m having trouble getting started.

See him solo and live and you can watch as he builds multi-track songs, one element at a time. He records violin-plucking for the beat, whistle-melodies for motifs, and begins to sing. All the while your eyebrows gradually migrate to the outside edges of your forehead. The man has talent.

Catch a live show, if you possibly can, or watch a great example here (if you only watch one of the videos in this post, pick this):



When I’m working for several hours, I often have Andrew Bird on a continual loop in my iTunes. Below, the YouTube Andrew Bird playlist. Particularly addictive tracks include “Thank God it’s Fatal,” “Operation,” “Sythian Empire” and “Mitosis.”



I am also a Decemberists fan, devoted and devout. During the month of February I listened to their new album, The King is Dead a lot. The band (featured in a recent Talk of the Town, “No. 1”) has an ability to make every genre they turn their instruments irresistible. They also have a fantastic vocabulary, employing words such as “palanquin,” “odalisque,” and “roustabout.”

If you are a Decemberists neo-phyte, and unafraid of the idea of good country music, give the opening track of their latest album a try:



And if you’re willing to go for the serious honey-tonk:



Otherwise, an easier entry point might be The Crane Wife (loosely based on a Japanese fairy tale) or The Hazards of Love (a total rock opera, a la Deep Purple). These folks are also *just fantastic* live.

There is also something great about listening to music sung in a language I can’t (or can just barely) understand. My favorite breed of this is music from French-speaking Africa. I’ve poked around the International section of iTunes’ radio offerings and have settled on Afriki Djigui Theatri (also available here). I even like the commercials. I understand just enough of the French to stay amused, without growing annoyed at the advertising.

But I don’t want this post to be one glowing review after another. So let me say that, contrary to their name, Muse is lousy to write to. And while they put on a great light show (see below) I also think they’re pretty lousy live.

Muse in Lyon, France/D. Venton

Just to insert one more complaint, this non-stop rain makes me wish all the more that I was in Austin, Texas listening to music at South by Southwest. This wish might be an impossibility -- among other obstacles, the festival ended four days ago -- but that makes the longing only more acute. A great listing of SXSW music to pay attention is here on NPR's music pages.

Now that I’ve compiled my list, and have offered you more links than you can comfortably process, I wonder what White, Zinsser, and Blundell would say about my habit of scribbling with tunes in the background. I’ll look into it and get back to you. Meanwhile, send me what you write to either below or at danielle.venton[at]gmail.com.

An afternoon at the Opera

State Opera House
Originally uploaded by danielle512

Sunday afternoon I saw the State Opera's performance of Puccini's Turandot. The State Opera house is a lovely little building near the National Museum. It's not as sumptuous as the Paris Garnier or San Francisco War Memorial (I've not been to so many others), but it has a sincere prettiness that is immensely appealing. The chairs could be a bit more comfortable though. 

Czech people are serious about dressing up, so I did by best to turn up turned out: heeled leather boots, black sheath dress, fuzzy turtleneck sweater (more in the interests of warmth than style), a tailored tweed jacket, dangly earrings, eyeliner and, and, lipstick. The opera staff and audience members addressed me in Czech, which felt like a reward for my efforts. (One of my definitions of successful travel is being addressed in the local language.)

Upstairs in the hallways hung portraits of notable performers associated with the opera house. By far the best was a delicious picture of Marina Vyskvorkina. She is shown, full locks flowing, oozing with scarcely containable fabulousness. I look at this photograph and think, “How cool must it be to be her?”

The performance began dull enough, but improved as the death toll rose. The most enjoyable singers were the comical Ping, Pang and Pong. These over-wrought ministers flitted around the stage like over-plumed birds in multi-layered be-sequened, be-tasseled headdresses, coquettishly fluttering fans in their hands.

At least one audience member did tear up at the show-shopping aria Nessun Dorma (click here to listen to a recording). Equally touching, though, was the crowd who came. Many large family groups: everyone from grandma to toddling little boy.

During one of the intermissions, I snapped a shot of a father instructing his young daughter: on his knees, sharing points from the program to an attentive audience of one.

The problem with Geneva

I may have put my finger on the problem with Geneva. It’s a matter of mass and creativity. The place is not massively creative (unless you’re particular gig is, say, theoretical physics. Then it is Valhalla).

Now, don’t get me wrong. Geneva is fantastic in many ways. Good nearby mountains, good Italian restaurants, a good transport system. It also is pretty, and good looks can cover a multitude of sins. But there is a “critical mass ” lack in the creativity department. Let me expand.

This weekend a local music venue is going to be hosting a tribute night to Johnny Cash, Hank Williams and Dolly Parton. Now this is a wonderful idea! These are all excellent artists who did much to contribute to good country music in America (what little of it there is). Beyond that they all have distinctive attributes that would make them fun to imitate or “tribute”. Cash’s deep bass, for example, Williams’s hat, and as for Parton’s talents and endowments, they are, well, just too grand to mention.

However I sent out an invitation to the usual suspects, trying to drum up some enthusiasm for going. For at least seeing if it was interesting and what did I hear in reply? Not. A. Peep. Save for the odd, “Uh, thanks but I’ll pass.”

This is not a problem with my friend base, I believe, as much as it is a problem with my current city. My friends are quite nice and generally up for good times. However if I were living in San Francisco (closer to home), or near Chicago, New York or Boston I’m willing to bet the response from my friend base would louder and more enthusiastic. This is probably because a Cash-Williams-Parton tribute night would be really excellent in those cities, whereas in Geneva? I’m dubious. (I guess we’ll have to wait till Saturday to see.)

This sets us up, however, for a self-fulfilling prophecy. A city who does not believe it can have an amazing Legends of Country tribute night will never have said LoC tribute night. And that, my friends, is a shame for all of us.

Recent Muse-ings

Muse Last Night

Last night Muse brought its hard pop-rock to Lyon, France and I found myself part of the audience. The light show was impressive, the boys admittedly can play their instruments well and Matthew Bellamy's vocals are excellent live.

While the crowed whipped itself in to the expected frenzy, I couldn't help feeling like we were at a well-planned CD listening party. Save from a drum and guitar solo, they played their crowd-pleasing tunes essentially as recorded, infusing scant fresh emotion. It gave one the impression of being stranded on the moon.