No sign Canada cares for its heritage at world cultural conference

Did you know that the United Nations is in the midst of a conference to discuss safeguarding endangered elements of cultural heritage?

Thought not.

Did you know that Canada didn't submit anything for consideration?

Yesterday (Sept. 29), in Abu Dhabi, UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) began discussing how to protect "intangible heritage" in its Intergovernmental Committe for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage, struck in 2003 to take an inventory of cultural activities that help define a nation.

"It will describe intangible heritage elements on the Urgent Safeguarding List and the Representative List, as well as select good safeguarding practices," says the relevant UNESCO news web page.

Reading through the material, written in the worst kind of bureaucratic brain-mush, what quickly becomes clear is not that there is any realistic way of ensuring survival of elements inside a living culture (by nature of being a living organism, it is in a process of constant evolution, which implies an element of birth and death), the list of submissions by different countries is a fascinating catalogue of what each nation's bureaucrats consider important.

According to the BBC's news feed, the meeting today officially entered the Argentinian tango on the heritage list, as it goes through a total of 111 submissions.

Here is a section from UNESCO's guidelines on "inventorying cultural heritage:"

Intangible cultural heritage takes many forms. The Convention explains that it may be expressed in a number of domains, including but not limited to:

• Oral traditions and expressions including language as a vehicle of the intangible cultural heritage;
• Performing arts;

  

  Bunuba, an Australian Aboriginal language, has no more then 100 speakers left, most of whom are older people. The Bunuba elders try to pass on the ancestral language through telling stories as it was done in the past. - download video
  ©Discovery Communications, Inc.

• Social practices, rituals and festive events;
• Knowledge and practice about nature and the universe;
• Traditional craftsmanship.

It goes without saying that many elements of intangible cultural heritage might belong to one or more of these domains.

The main purposes of the Convention are to safeguard such heritage, to ensure respect for it, to raise awareness about its importance and to provide for international cooperation and assistance in these fields. Countries that ratify the Convention (known as States Parties) take on the obligation to safeguard the intangible cultural heritage present on their territories. At an international level, the Convention establishes two Lists, the List of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Need of Urgent Safeguarding and the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. The goal of these Lists is to call attention to those elements of intangible cultural heritage that are representative of human creativity and cultural diversity and especially those in need of urgent safeguarding.

The Convention focuses on the role of communities and groups in safeguarding intangible cultural heritage. It is concerned with processes and conditions rather than products, placing emphasis on living heritage that is performed by people, often collectively, and communicated through living experience. It deals with heritage that communities themselves deem important, and strives to contribute to the promotion of creativity and diversity, and to the well-being of communities, groups, and society at large.

I want to remind you that Canada didn't submit anything. Imagine how Tanya Tagaq and her fellow Inuit throat-singers must feel, not to mention all the other custodians and practitioners of arts specific to Canadian heritage. To be fair, the United States also appears not to have any submissions present, nor do several western European countries. Why?

Despite daily reminders of how Canada continues to neglect cultural heritage on so many levels, our politicians and bureaucrats find it easier to send body bags to First Nations communities than to give their cultural output a place on the world stage.

Perhaps the body bags were a metaphor...

And that doesn't even begin to address our country's post-colonial heritage, which includes Acadian culture, Quebec folk traditions, East Coast fiddling, Métis communities, and, well, the list goes on and on.

Perhaps someone involved in federal culture-policy decisions could explain Canada's absence on the UNESCO list?

The original list of submissions, which grew by 21 after it was posted on the web, includes photos and video clips. It's a fascinating trip around the world, and a valuable archival resource. It's great that UNESCO saw fit to make this information public.

Here is one of the video submissions, on Vietnam's Nha Nhac, or court music:

Here, just because I can't leave it alone, are sisters Karin and Kathy Kettler, who are from Kangiqsualujjuak, Nunavik, showing off authentic Inuit throat singing at the 2008 Richmond Folk Festival:

Nothing exceeds like excess in L.A. Opera Siegfried's flash-card symbolism

(Lawrence K. Ho photo, Los Angeles Times)

Los Angeles Opera raised the curtain on a five-performance run of Siegfried, on Saturday night. I've only just had a chance to catch up with how it went, and was stunned by veteran German bad-boy Achim Freyer's set and costume designs.

Clearly, Freyer has carefully thought through this, the third installment of Wagner's Ring Cycle, and tries to telegraph everything that's run through his imagination through the costumes. (Click on the photo, and you'll go to an excellent photo gallery from this production.)

Although it's impossible to judge without experiencing the production, my inclination is to prefer the set and costumes to embody the symbolism of possibility, and let it unfold with the music and libretto, rather than try to telegraph everything in one glance. The musical equivalent would be to hear the whole, five-hour score in five minutes.

Does it do justice to Wagner's slowly unfolding worldview to have the visual aspect summarize it in the blink of an eye? I don't think so. But that is the temptation in the age of Twitter.

In his review Monday, Los Angeles Times critic Mark Swed wrote that "Freyer's 'Ring' is singular spectacle, part circus, part eccentric art project, part light show, part historical panoply and part ineffable philosophical exercise." There were people in the audience who booed Freyer's curtain call, but there were also cheers. "Traditional Wagnerians have reason to be bewildered. Those of us who have admired Freyer's grotesqueries for many years have equal reason to be bewildered. It all boils to how much you value bewilderment," he wrote.

I'm not intentionally trying to come back to Glenn Gould these days, but here's his piano transcription of the Siegfried Idyll, as played in two parts by 25-year-old Latvian pianist Vestard Shimkus (as an antidote to this opera production, there's nothing to see. Just listen to the music unfold.):

Lala Land Dudamania marketing push spawns conducting computer game

The Los Angeles Philharmonic has added a you-be-the-conductor computer game -- and iPod app -- as part of its massive promotional mobilization around new music director, Gustavo Dudamel.

The 28-year-old Venezuelan conductor creates a sensation wherever he goes. And now we can conduct like him, too.

... well, not exactly.

I've tried the game and it didn't feel at all like conducting. Essentially, the player is asked to press the A S D and/or F keys to cute the different sections of the orchestra as the music plays. If your keystrokes match the cues, you win points.

Click here to give it a go.

I think I can keep my job, because, on the first outing, I scored enough to be awarded the title of "Conductor" by the game. I don't have to slink off in embarrassment, even though I have to admit that I barely heard a single note of the music as I tried to focus on hitting the targets at the right moment.

As for the real Gustavo, the LA Phil has plenty of background music and video to enjoy on the orchestra's all-Gustavo Dudamel microsite.

Two new piano-solo albums show off Romantic virtuoso repertoire

SA CHEN

Rachmaninov 6 Études-Tableaux; Mussorgsky Pictures at an Exhibition, A Night on Bald Mountain (Pentatone)

*** (out of 4)

She won't turn 30 until next year, but Chinese-born pianist Sa Chen is a superstar in her birth country and has a thriving European career. This, her second album on the Pentatone label, contains the over-recorded Pictures at an Exhibition, which she plays with her trademark blend of delicate phrasing and jaw-dropping technique. It's a fine performance, but it's a bit lacking in muscle. But the real treat comes in the first six tracks, as she tackles Rachmaninov's fiercely difficult Études-Tableaux. The real challenge is gettting some poetry out of this music, and Chen plays them as beautifully as I can imagine, and has arranged them as a beautiful bouquet (her set features Op. 33 Nos. 2,3 & 5, and Op. 39, Nos. 4,5 & 6 -- not in that order). I would buy this disc for these pieces alone. The audio quality is also superb.

Chen has followed what is now a clearly-marked road map for ambitious Chinese-born musicians: initial study in the homeland, followed by musical finishing school in the West (in Chen's case, the prestigious conervatory in Hanover, Germany -- a popular choice), followed by a slog through the competition circuit. It's all work, all the time. But sometimes it's the only way to get someone as musically gifted as Chen to become noticed.

In case you don't know Chen, here is a short clip of her playing Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 1 (the beginning of the slow movement), which was featured on her previous album:

GIANLUCA LUISI

Franz Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 30 (Naxos)

*** (out of 4)

Hungarian piano legend Franz Liszt (1811-1886) wrote, give or take, 1,000 pieces of music -- the bulk of them for his own concert performances. Although it's easy to find Liszt on concert programmes and recordings, the selection is pretty narrow. So, budget label Naxos, in its long-term goal to record everything in the Western canon, has reached into the darker corners of Liszt's library to bring us the seemingly inexhaustible supply of virtuosic treats.

Vol. 30 in the series comes to us courtesy of Italian pianist Gianluca Luisi, who plays very nicely, but lacks an overall fluidity or grace that would make this a four-star disc. On offer are three of the Transcendental Études based on themes of Paganini (Nos. 1, 4 and 6) and two pieces inspired by the music of Rossini. The real treat are the Soirées italiennes, where Liszt was pushing himself in a poetic, colour-driven direction that could be heard as a prelude to the music of Debussy and Ravel.

The six Soirées are brilliant studies in mood and poetry, anchored in dance forms, well-shaped by Luisi's nimble fingers. There's also a lot of energetic fun in piece No. 2, a galop, and the rollicking No. 5 brindisi.

Here's an introductory video on the pianist, from his website:

Great Spanish pianist Alicia de Larrocha dies, aged 86

The tiny, hunched performer would shamble onto the stage, plop herself rather inelegantly on the piano bench, and, when her fingers touched the keyboard, the result was sweet magic.

Alicia de Larrocha played with determination sheathed in the softest of velvet. She was one of my greatest inspirations while growing up. I wanted to play the piano exactly like her. Although I've culled my disc collection down to the barest of essentials, she is still there, showing off her Spanish verve in the music of Albeniz and Granados.

My most vivid live-performance memory is of how de Larrocha made Mozart sing, and how she mapped out the piano suites of Robert Schumann, in particular Carnaval. I had never understood the structure of the music until I heard this remarkable artist tackle it. (And that didn't even include the wonder at how she could wrap her tiny hands around the all the little black dots on the page.)

I'm so sorry to find out that the Barcelona native died late Friday night, aged 86. De Larrocha had been in poor health since breaking her hip two years ago.

She had a long and glorious career and was, according everyone who knew her, a consummate professional, a generous collaborator and a fine human being. She is reported to have performed about 4,000 concerts before retiring in 2003. 

The BBC ran a nice obituary today. There's a more detailed, excellent appreciation in the Telegraph.

I would love to spend hours sharing the ways in which this person was an exceptional artist. But there isn't enough time. So, here is a wonderful clip of de Larrocha working on Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 1 with conductor Michael Tilson Thomas. Dudley Moore provides a funny introduction. 

I've followed this with a performance of "Evocation" from the Iberia suite by Albeniz, and Monserrat Caballé singing Mompou's setting of Catalan sonnet "Damunt de tus només les flors," with de Larrocha accompanying:

Lying upon you, like a white 
Offering, there were flowers only. 
From them your body drew the light, 
Without them now the branch was lonely.

And as they gave their kiss to you, 
Their life of fragrance was sent flowing. 
From your closed eyes the light shone through: 
You were resplendent, you were glowing.

Could I but be a flower’s sigh 
And, like a lily, give you my 
own self, so that my very being 
Would fade away upon your breast 
And never need again the rest 
Of night, that from your side is fleeing.

Moment musical: Two keyboard pieces by William Byrd

Toronto's classical music and opera season had its start over four consecutive nights. It's been a chain of big-music programming. So, this morning, I'm ready for a palate cleanser -- two scoops of basic keyboard polyphony, courtesy of a 16th century master, William Byrd (who died in his early 80s, in 1623).

Here is Dutch period-instrument keyboard performer Ernst Stoltz on a virginal with "The Carman's Whistle," a theme with variations from the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, followed by Glenn Gould playing "Hughe Ashton's Ground":

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Glenn Gould's withdrawal from stage earned a 'competitive advantage'

There are, have been and will be more things said and written about Glenn Gould than could ever be absorbed by an ordinary music listener. What I especially like about Mark Kingwell's new book, is how it sets up a web of possibilities, where the reader can, if they want to, follow particular threads beyond the immediate reading.

I noted sections throughout the book that particularly piqued my curiosity. Yet knowing, like Robert Frost, how way leads on to way, I doubt if I'll be able to come back -- in the immediate, information- and concert-clogged near future.

But, before I set the book on my shelf for an indefinite, dust-gathering hiatus, here's a passage that touches on Gould's withdrawal from the stage into recording and radio studios that speaks directly to the here-and-now:

Gould lay on the cusp of a change in attitude to music. His career spanned the period in which recordings were, for the first time, reaching impressive levels of both accuracy and accessibility. He was bold enough to suggest that recordings are not best viewed as substitutes for live concerts, but are instead a medium onto themselves. This is correct. Where he erred was in thinking that this transition is a binary function: that the new medium will render the old obsolete. As [Marshall] McLuhan could have told him -- indeed maybe did, on one of the several occasions they met or appeared together -- a new medium does not replace an older one, it encompasses it like a new ring on a tree. Recorded music does not obliterate live music any more than television obliterates radio, or radio obliterates newspapers. Having made this elementary error, Gould's basic premise for the subsequent arguments against concerts was revealed as faulty.

The real reasons he was a "concert dropout" are not philosophical, they are psychological. This is not to say they are obvious or easy to understand. It suited him to take this stand, the enter a refusal to an established system: thus the use of the then-fashionable notions of dropping out and going electronic, Gould as classical music's version of Timothy Leary. But it suited him because he found performing unpleasant, not because he found it objectionable. The latter is a construct that at once justifies and conceals the former. And this concealment, apprehended at another level of his psyche, pleased this master of disguise and personae rather too much. Gould did not so much perform his silence as he performed his refusal, a juicy and endlessly repeated exit from the stage.

Nor is that all. The underlying irony is that Gould's apparent retreat into recording is actually the biggest competitive advantage of all, one hinged on the technology of recording itself. Recorded music is what economists call scalable activity: an individual effort that pays off over and over without further exertion. Reproduced and distributed on vinyl, a single musical session can capture a vast audience that was once necessarily divided among many in-person players. Every purchased Glenn Gould recording thus diminishes the chance of another musician being heard at all. Like bestselling books and blockbuster films, hit recordings are part of an inherently unfair winner-take-all market; the difference is that here the rivals are not just other books or movies, but other musical experiences in all forms. Talk about smoking the competition!

There's plenty to think about here.

A digression on live concert-going

In yesterday's blog entry, I deplored the social-status-confirming side of concertgoing. There's another facet to this phenomenon on display among young audiences.

Go to any live concert of popular music, and you see a sizable proportion of the spectators viewing the action on stage through the LCD screen of their video-recording device. This additional layer of mediation in an already over-mediated world strikes me as strange.

I brought the subject up with Mark Kingwell, as we chatted about the Glenn Gould book last week. His explanation made a lot of sense: more and more artists offer free downloads to entice purchases of a deluxe album (Kingwell, a longtime fan of the group, used the example of Radiohead), the next step in leveraging the exposure is selling live-concert tickets.

Being able to attend that live concert becomes a status object, and the cellphone raised in video-capture glory is the preferred way of being able to confirm to the world (or at least your 247 nearest and dearest Facebook friends) that you were able to acquire this object.

Glenn Gould in Russia

Here, in case you have a chunk of free time, here is the first segment of a documentary on Gould's phenomenal visit to the Soviet Union in 1957. Hopefully, the link will follow to the five successive segments posted on YouTube.

Note to the federal Finance Minister: Look at what the paltry sums needed to fund a Canadian artist's travel abroad can do, not just for the artist, but the international profile of a whole country.

This old symphony preaches to Our Kind of People

It goes without saying that we like the company of likeminded people. But are we meant to keep the company of those people all the time?

Two things happened yesterday that reminded me of a natural, unconscious impulse most of us have to surround ourselves with the familiar -- and self-reinforcing or self-affirming.

The Toronto Symphony Orchestra had it's season-opening concert last night. It was good. But, as I've complained in print before, there was little to show the city around Roy Thomson Hall that something special was going to happen at 8 p.m.

There was a strip of light-blue carpet and two velvet ropes laid as a makeshift drawbridge between the Simcoe St. curb and one of the main doors into the lobby. On the sidewalk were two sets of (for me) eye-level speakers blasting big, 19th century symphonic music straight into the ears of passersby.

It was intimidating, not welcoming (Remember that 7-11 stores in the U.S. play classical music on the sidewalk to keep loiterers away). 

Inside, the orchestra's main donors were treated to a pre-concert reception, walled off from the main lobby with portable room dividers.

There was a party for all ticket buyers after the concert. And, of course, the people who support the many and expensive needs of a world-class symphony orchestra need to be thanked in a meaningful way. But I couldn't help thinking that the feeling of exclusivity inside the building, coupled with the continuing lack of connection with the people in the city who think that black-tie receptions and classical music make it unlikely that they would even consider buying a symphony ticket, means that our flagship orchestra continues to miss a big, post-film-festival opportunity to connect with a greater public.

In contrast, I remember vividly the crowds of Montrealers who spent the evening in the public square outside Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier to share in the joy of a new symphony season via big video screens and speakers when Kent Nagano became the music director three years ago. The party started outside, where the orchestra played on an outdoor stage with pianist Alain Lefèvre before moving inside.

There's an equally big public square to the west of Roy Thomson Hall, but the symphony orchestra has never paid it any heed, leaving Glenn Gould's lonely memorial flame flickering amidst the odd skateboarder and park-bench smoker oblivious to any sort of connection to the magical world of music.

Related to this is seeing Toronto's Anglican bishops, standing outside Union Station yesterday, handing out invitations to church on Sunday. It's part of a worldwide effort by the Church of England and its former colonial affiliates to reach out into the community and tell a secularized society that it's okay to try going to church again.

I'm lucky to have been part for many years of downtown church communities that, like the surrounding streets, span the socioeconomic spectrum. People leave their civilian status at the door, turning toward a bond that transcends time and place, the quality of home furnishings and the frequency of vacation travel. But it's rare. Most worship communities, just like the neighbourhoods around them, want to feel that everyone present is Our Kind of People.

A few months ago, a very active member of my current parish left. He said that he and his wife felt that there weren't enough people like them in the congregation, and they were going to look around to see if they could find another church.

This couple wasn't thinking about sharing worship, or faith or spirituality.

When the Toronto Symphony celebrates its successes behind a box office and charitable receipts, is that really about sharing the joy of music with the wider world?

(I'll have more on this tomorrow, thanks to a great conversation I had with University of Toronto philosophy professor Mark Kingwell.)

Freedman family steps in where Stephen Harper government cops out

It's too bad Stephen Harper is too busy giving press conferences at Tim Hortons' to come attend the opening of Koerner Hall tomorrow night. It's not just the building that's important; it's the wealth of Canadian talent contained in its past, present and, hopefully glorious, future.

It's a visible example of the current government's disdain for culture. It's fine as long as it serves political expediency. But otherwise? These people appear to believe that the encouragement of made-in-Canada creativity in the arts is not important.

Thank goodness there are people like University of Toronto vocal coach Mary Morrison, who, along with other members of her family, have come forward to endow the Harry Freedman Recording Award, in memory of her late, composer husband.

These are not wealthy people, but they understand the value of encouraging creativity in music.

Here is the full press release, issued this morning by the Canadian Music Centre:

The Canadian Music Centre (CMC) and the Freedman family are extremely pleased to announce the Harry Freedman Fund, established in memory of the pioneering Canadian composer. Housed and administered by the CMC, the Fund’s main activity is to offer the Harry Freedman Recording Award.  

The Harry Freedman Recording Award will be given to a successful candidate - a Canadian composer working in collaboration with one to six musicians, or a Canadian composer/performer - through a competitive process. Its purpose will be to contribute towards the creative costs associated with making audio recordings of Canadian composers’ music that are confirmed for a future commercial release.

The Award is currently valued at $1,500 CDN and will be offered on a biannual basis starting in the 2009/2010 season.

The Award’s first Call for Proposals will be released on October 1^st. The results of the competition, which will be decided by a national jury assembled from leaders in the Canadian music community, will be announced at a public event planned for Monday April 5, 2010 – Harry Freedman’s birthday – in Toronto.

The announcement of the Harry Freedman Recording Award arrives at an interesting and important time for the recording and distribution of Canadian composers’ music. Recent changes made by the Department of Canadian Heritage to the Canadian Musical Diversity component of the Canada Music Fund have removed $1.3 million in funding from the Canada Council for the Arts. This funding was allocated to two key programs – Grants for Specialized Music Sound Recording and Grants for Specialized Music Distribution – that were essential to supporting the position of new, creative music in the Canadian recording industry. These funds have since been reallocated to different federal agencies – the Foundation to Assist Canadian Talent on Recordings (FACTOR) and its Francophone equivalent MUSICACTION – to support very different initiatives. As a result, the introduction of the Harry Freedman Recording Award is extremely timely and significant.

Restored royal opera house sits with calendar agape

While general manager Peter Gelb continues to drag the Metropolitan Opera and its audiences kicking and booing into the 21st century, France celebrated a glittering example of back to the future on Monday night with a gala (featuring, among others, Welsh divo Bryn Terfel) re-opening of the royal opera house at the palace of Versailles, following an $18 million (Cdn.) refit and restoration to its full pre-Revolutionary glory (the photo above is courtesy AFP).

Touring Versailles is one of the world's mind-blowing experiences -- a gilded, faux-marbled and muralled symbol of noblesse décore. One is reminded at every turn how Louis XVI practically bankrupted the French treasury with his lavish plans.

But even among all this glorious excess, nothing prepares the visitor for the 660-seat royal theatre. If there ever was an architectural jewel box, this is it. And, behind the stunning interior, is an amazingly complex system of gears, levers, pulleys and platforms designed to magically move scenery and actors with the ease and swiftness of CGI animation. Another set of mechanical devices raised the main floor of the audience to stage level so that the space could double as a ballroom.

The theatre was opened for the wedding of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette in 1770. The post-revolutionary government turned the opera house into a glass-roofed senate chamber. It later fell into disuse and disrepair. According to Agence France-Presse, the theatre has only been used 20 times for shows in the last 200 years.

When I visited the theatre, a long time ago, the stage machinery was unusable. But even that has now been made functional again.

Monday's opening came amidst a country-wide celebration of France's architectural heritage -- sort of a massive-scale Doors Open.

The re-opening of the theatre is supposed to mark a new opportunity for opera fans to see period opera in the finest possible light. The theatre won't be open for a public performance again until Dec. 10 and 11, for performances of Molère's play The Imaginary Invalid. There's an evening of Offenbach on Dec. 16, followed by three performances of Mozart's Così fan tutte and a concert of music by Handel by Harry Christophers and The Sixteen.

The rest of the season is more sparse, with occasional concerts and a handful of performances of Mozart's Don Giovanni and The Marriage of Figaro.

Where are the great operas of Lully and Rameau? Even if it's too expensive to build sets, it would still be amazing to hear that great music in this setting.

That's why, if I had to choose one event for which to brave the outer suburbs of Paris, I would go hear pianist Alexandre Tharaud's solo recital of keyboard pieces by Rameau on June 20. Rameau could never have imagined the sound of a modern piano, but Tharaud's light, crystalline playing makes one forget the alternatives.

Here is Tharaud playing the Gavotte from one of Rameau's harpsichord suites: