It’s April 15th as I write this, a day whose meanings vary significantly from person to person. If you are the average American, it is a day of numbers, sweat, and multiple calls to the IRS helpline; if you live in Rochester, New York, it is another day of bemoaning the stubborn endurance of winter[…]
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I think it is safe to say it: winter is over. Okay, so in Rochester we do still have some blackened snowdrifts lingering in parking lot corners, and yes, I did see a weather report that we’re supposed to get into the 20s again next week (!) but for the most part, the formidable season[…]
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Do masterclasses belong in our bios? That was the question I posed in last week’s post, which argued against the all-too-common practice of sticking a star-studded honor roll into a biography. Masterclasses are really no different than trial lessons, I asserted; they generally don’t have a lasting influence on your playing; and the mere selection[…]
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We at the Eastman School of Music have enjoyed a parade of celebrities this past month. First we hosted Chris Martin, the principal trumpet of the Chicago Symphony, who came with the Gaudette Brass; next, famed cellist Steven Isserlis stopped by in between concerto engagements; then, the legendary pianist Leon Fleisher came to town for[…]
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Two weeks ago, I wrote about Renée Fleming’s stellar Super Bowl performance and how it offered pop culture a rare (if fleeting) glimpse into the clandestine bubble of classical music. For all of us, it was a moment of great pride–finally, a star of our field was recognized alongside those popular celebrities who so often seem[…]
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What comes to mind when you think of a classical music performance? Elaborate formal wear, perhaps; a brightly lit stage; the incessant crinkling of cough drop wrappers. But would you ever associate such an event with the piquant scent of Mexican food or the creamy consistency of guacamole? Probably not. Yet, on a recent occasion,[…]
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When it comes to professional football, my personal knowledge is profoundly lacking. Sure, I know a thing or two about touchdowns and yard lines and quarterbacks, but if you were ever to put me in the middle of a recreational game, the result would be quite awful both for me and whichever unfortunate individuals comprised[…]
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“When it comes to classical music and American culture, the fat lady hasn’t just sung. Brunnhilde has packed her bags and moved to Boca Raton.” So begins a recent article on Slate.com by Mark Vanhoenacker entitled, “Requiem: Classical Music in America is Dead.” Heralded by a cartoon of a morose conductor gesticulating fruitlessly to a[…]
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This past weekend, I had the unique opportunity to experience two very different concerts on two consecutive evenings–and both took place in the same venue, Kodak Hall at Eastman Theatre. The featured groups were the innovative cello rock band (yes, you read that right) Break of Reality, performing everything from Bach 6 to hardcore heavy[…]
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It was the spring of my seventh grade year, and I was preparing for my junior high’s upcoming production of “Groovy,” a musical for middle schoolers set in the 1960s. I had auditioned for the lead role (a hippie named Travis who attempts to coordinate a Woodstock-esque carnival), but the fates had apparently not been[…]
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