Composer/keyboardist/producer Elodie Lauten creates operas, music for dance and theatre, orchestral, chamber and instrumental music. Not a household name, she is however widely recognized by historians as a leading figure of post-minimalism and a force on the new music scene, with 20 releases on a number of labels.
Her opera Waking in New York, Portrait of Allen Ginsberg was presented by the New York City Opera (2004 VOX and Friends) in May 2004, after being released on 4Tay, following three well-received productions. OrfReo, a new opera for Baroque ensemble was premiered at Merkin Hall by the Queen's Chamber Band, whose New Music Alive CD (released on Capstone in 2004) includes Lauten's The Architect. The Orfreo CD was released in December 2004 on Studio 21. In September 2004 Lauten was composer-in-residence at Hope College, MI. Lauten's Symphony 2001, was premiered in February 2003 by the SEM Orchestra in New York. In 1999, Lauten's Deus ex Machina Cycle for voices and Baroque ensemble (4Tay) received strong critical acclaim in the US and Europe. Lauten's Variations On The Orange Cycle (Lovely Music, 1998) was included in Chamber Music America's list of 100 best works of the 20th century.
Born in Paris, France, she was classically trained as a pianist since age 7. She received a Master's in composition from New York University where she studied Western composition with Dinu Ghezzo and Indian classical music with Ahkmal Parwez. Daughter of jazz pianist/drummer Errol Parker, she is also a fluent improviser. She became an American citizen in 1984 and has lived in New York since the early seventies
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Sunday, April 27, 2008
Of all the many little things that can go wrong...
I am blessed but also cursed with an ear for detail. I still remember that time in the 80s when a overly amplified saxophone sent an excruciating message to my brain for days, even though my intellect appreciated both the performer and the original music being created.
Especially with singers, I (for better or worse) can hear all the little flatnesses and sharpnesses that occur, and that makes the vocal landcape slighly more painful to navigate - but I am still able to enjoy every minute of it.
The acoustical problems are in the forefront of my perception, and they plague many of the spaces, which actually are mostly churches lately (thank God for that), as there seems to be a scarcity of creative venues, where we can listen to live music: sound bouncing too much, or not bouncing at all, flat, muddy.
Amplification issues may happen: everything was perfectly planned for natural acoustics but the room required miking of the instruments, meanwhile the performers can't hear themselves from one end of the stage to the other unless they wear headphones... Sometimes it's a theater made for drama, not sound, and where no matter where you sit, you're going to hear something totally different - and none of it in keeping with what it should sound like, but no one will really know because it's a premiere; one person says the violin was too loud, the other says they couldn't hear it at all, but they are both complaining.
I hear the slightest out-of-tuneness of a piano, even a mere out-of-temperament-ness of the instrument and the other instruments being ever so slightly at odds with it...
The distractions from audience vibrations and moods, the near-psychic perception of how people are feeling at the time in a collective situation also have their part in the aural experience, and so does the presence of Critics with a Capital C, whether old-school ones who enjoy career-bashing power or the impression of it and new-school ones who will casually but just as irresponsibly blog it negative for the sake of being perceived as witty.
The programs can often be under-rehearsed because performers are so busy making a living they can't really afford the time to learn the music properly, and they certainly cannot be blamed for it.
In brief, so many things can go wrong with a performance, and I doubt that a single one of them will escape my noticing. However, it's funny how some events can turn out to be so grand that one is able to get beyond the uncomfortable and mundane aspects of the experience, such as bad seating, and how some other events can be nearly painful in the very humbleness of their endangered form.
This is really somewhat of a nightmare, isn't it?
posted by Elodie Lauten
3:24 AM
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Satyagraha or the force of truth
After a particularly long and arduous winter, fraught with economic woes, hopelessness about world happenings (Shiites, Tibetans...., indecision about the upcoming election, and a general sense of potential doom, Satyagraha could not have come at a better time to lift our spirits.
I’ll admit that I have always been partial to the music of Philip Glass, especially his early works back in the late seventies when I was still trying to keep a rock band together. His music in its simplicity and clarity was a breath of fresh air. But Satyagraha is a work of depth where Glass makes a very serious and far-reaching statement, not only musically but spiritually and politically as well. The piece may have been written down quickly, but it is likely to have developed in concept over a period of 10 years through many trips to India, as Glass was initiated to Indian culture by Ravi Shankar and subsequently had first-hand experience of Indian spirituality and of the ideas that Gandhi left behind.
Upon arrival at the Met we were greeted by a large sign laid over the façade, painted by Francesco Clemente. Its understated light colors, with contrasting elements of tension, hinted to the piece’s mood.
The way I understand it, Satyagraha is a neo-opera that works perfectly in terms of its conceptual elements. First, the separation between the singing and the meaning: the choice of Sanskrit (the classical language of ancient India) a ‘dead’ language that the audience is not expected to understand, clearly places the vocalization in the realm of pure music; the meaning is conveyed through other vehicles in the staging including projected text messages that are food for thought. I quote the composer's notes: “I like the idea of further separating the vocal text from the action. In this way, without an understandable text to contend with, the listener could let the words go altogether.”
Second, the orchestral design: the ensemble boldly departs from the traditional operatic orchestra; Glass determined exactly what instruments were appropriate for this setting and the quiet, meditative, pianissimo spiritual mood of the Indian scripture serving as libretto is carried without any percussion or brass; even the organ is understated.
Third, the choice of a story line that is more abstract than narrative. Composer’s notes again: “My music tends to have greater emotional impact when it is allowed a longer sweep of time in which to develop. I wanted fewer scene changes, which would permit longer stretches of music… In many ways, I found this somewhat more abstract storyline closer to my way of thinking.”
Fourth, the choice of a subject matter that is both universal and contemporary - I must mention the connection between Gandhi, Tolstoy and Martin Luther King Jr. here.
Fifth, the design of a new form that could be described as an elegant hybrid of oratorio and opera.
Possibly because over time, people have caught on to Glass’ music and are beginning to understand it better, he has found remarkable collaborators who were able to correctly stage the piece. I cannot begin to describe all the wonderful surprises that occur on the stage, in an unusual anti-glitz, soft-colored, almost ecological, natural-fiber esthetic, seemingly recycling newspapers and baskets into temporary oversized characters or Asian-style puppets.
The performers were flawless. Interestingly, vibrato (an early Glass no-no) was present in one aria, to great effect. I was also moved by the soprano duet in the second act and especially the tenor solo at the end, with Richard Croft quietly delivering an upward moving natural scale, over and over. It is an absolute must-see.
Satyagraha: music by Philip Glass, libretto by Constance DeJong adapted from the Bhagavad Gita, staging by Phelim McDernott and Julian Crouch, conducted by Dante Anzolini, costumes by Kevin Pollard, lighting by Paule Constable, with Rachelle Durkin, soprano, Richard Croft, tenor, Earle Patriarco, baritone, Alfred Walker, bass-baritone.
Related happenings:
A collaboration of New York cultural, arts environmental, educational and spiritual institutions working with Glass has launched the Satyagraha forum, an initiative to create a dialogue on Gandhi’s concept of change. www.satya-graha.org
The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts is presenting an exhibition of Satyagraha production photos and sketches, historic images and collages on view through April 19.
posted by Elodie Lauten
11:48 AM
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
The 40-year deadline
I was, as usual, perusing the AMC Opportunity Update which conveniently lists upcoming commissions and other programs for composers. Lately, I have been noticing a trend, which seems to get stronger and stronger: opportunities are reserved for the young. Many programs list 40 or even 35 as the age limit.
True, young people should be encouraged, but it is the business of schools and conservatories to offer opportunities for composers who are starting out. To systematically shut out any composer over 40 is, outrageously, politically incorrect. This blatant age discrimination issue needs to be addressed in the broader social context of the arts industry.
What does such an age-driven policy entail? Composing is encouraged for young people; they get a start, get better at it, accomplish a few oeuvres until they reach the doomed age of 35 (!) and the carpet is pulled from under them. Oops… no one wants your music any more, you’re just an old fart now. The composing profession is not like sports or modeling; the activity is not dependent upon the condition of the physical body, but very much on the condition of the mind, which only improves with age and maturity and accumulated knowledge. The craft of composing and developing one’s own voice takes years, so why ostracize the practiced composers when they are just beginning to get good at it? Human life spans are now much longer due to the progress of medicine and health awareness; at 40 one may have another near 40 years to live.
Youth-oriented culture as represented in advertising and popular entertainment is giving a false picture of what our lives are like, and should be counteracted as a deceptive illusion. In our culture, unfortunately, seniors are still being denied even their dignity, and relegated to nursing homes away from the ‘living’, whereas in other histories and geographies age is revered and appreciated as it comes with a certain amount of wisdom, and seniors serve as guides and mentors. But more importantly, the artistic development of a composer takes place over a lifetime. Once discovered, a composer should be allowed to develop and make a worthwhile contribution to the culture. An appropriate form of support would be a long-term award program which would sustain work creation over a number of years.
The youth-oriented approach to support assumes that, once initially encouraged, the composers will reach critical mass on their own. But this is a fallacy; what in fact happens is a process of elimination; only a happy few will gain access to the profession, and many other talents will be lost, along with a culture that could be thriving and enlightening for society as a whole.
The most shocking aspect of this blatant injustice is that it is not being addressed, possibly in fear of challenging the already inadequate support system for composers. Being self-supported gives me the freedom to speak up. I think the practice of offering age-driven opportunities must be stopped.
posted by Elodie Lauten
8:32 AM
Monday, April 07, 2008
Celebrating nonviolence: Satyagraha is here!
The Metropolitan Opera is running Satyagraha, the opera composed by Philip Glass in 1980 during his hyper-minimalist period, in other words the good old days when creators did not hesitate to carry on for several hours at a stretch (actually Satyagraha is only 3.5 hours long, which is considerably less than Debussy’s Pelléas) with very repetitive and meditative patterns; that was when meditation was hip, when there was an interest for nonviolence. This piece is in fact focused on a particular brand of nonviolence, as Gandhi explains: “Truth (Satya) implies love, and firmness (agraha) engenders and therefore serves as a synonym for force… the Force which is born of Truth and love or nonviolence.” The libretto is in Sanskrit… so you’ll need to check out the meaning of the scenes with the link below to the very informative Metropolitan web page. The libretto is by Constance DeJong.
http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/season/production.aspx?id=9251
Satyagraha is a co-production of the Met and English National Opera, in collaboration with Improbable. The production will see its Metropolitan Opera premiere on Friday April 11 and will run on April 14, 19, 22, 25, 28 (the April 28th performance is available as part of the Connect at the Met series) and May 1; it features tenor Richard Croft, director Phelim McDermott and stage designer Julian Crouch, both from the previous London production. I can’t wait to see it.
posted by Elodie Lauten
11:06 AM
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Metaphysical Reality Check
“Question reality” (The Mountain Astrologer)
“If the means is impure the result is impure” (Gandhi)
“Only two things are certain: death and taxes” (old saying)
To question reality one must first find reality. But where is reality? What is it? Reality is not one-dimensional – both quantum scientists and Buddhist monks have questioned even the reality of reality itself, as the observer is involved in the observed and therefore affecting it in some way. Reality could very well be a kind of slippery, elusive, subjective-objective continuum.
Reality in the expression “reality show” is actually a synonym for human experience – which is not, truth be told, the whole of reality.
Reality is sometimes a synonym of negativity: bursting your bubble, taking off the rosy-colored glasses. Reality hits when something suddenly disrupts your habitual sets of patterns. More often than not, reality is synonym of catastrophe or mishap.
With the life-through-screens we now enjoy thanks to the computerized (or other-ized) exciting colored displays, portables and other devices that blend the real and the imagined, the world we have built for ourselves is partially virtual, as news stories, invented characters and imaginary situations play a role, but where is our reality? There is a blending of the experienced and the imaginary; there is also the experienced-through-film, seen-on-film reality like the footage of ground zero after ‘it’ happened. Through our outlets on the internet we can be viewed through our writing, images, music, art, via our real persona or an invented one; this brings us closer to a continuum of creativity.
Reality is the change that takes place at every second, whether this change is tiny, gradual or revolutionary. Questioning reality is being aware of when the so-called “real world” offers a set of options that is too limited, too crushing, when the phoniness of the alternative screens and scenarios loses its charms. But it seems to me reality could very well be the whole Buddhist hot dog, the lived, the phony and the virtual as well.
posted by Elodie Lauten
8:00 AM
Monday, March 03, 2008
Avant-post synchronicity
Recently perusing a Brooklyn newsleaf (actually, no other than the wonderful L Magazine, an illustrated listing of goings-on in New York, which I still cannot find in my Manhattan downtown neighborhood), I noticed on the cover something about the death of the ‘avant-garde’ in New York. Intrigued, I looked at the article inside went through a list of the names that would constitute the avant-garde in all different art forms (literature, art, music, theater, etc.) but in a ‘dude’ kind of style that makes everything appear cool and of-the-now. The article was a misnomer, as obviously the old avant-garde is not dead and remains a culture of interest even for the blasé new gen-X, Y and Zs.
Striving for a definition of avant-garde, I would tend to think it is a matter of spirit, and attitude, rather than an esthetic per se that defines avant-garde – I am aware that many of us hate the expression "avant-garde" as a synonym of old and stuffy. I can’t help recalling Stefania de Kennessey’s "derrière garde" festival a few years back: the funny thought was to replace "arrière" — which would be the opposite of "avant"— by "derrière" which means both behind and the corresponding body part.
But there is something deeper in this expression, which points to how the avant transforms into the arrière very quickly. Creative attitudes easily change. I don’t see young composers being even interested in being revolutionary. Maybe that is something from the past. Maybe there are just too many possible forms of expression and technological miracles, and it is now unnecessary to be revolutionary in art. And that’s all been done before. Even being original seems pointless or can even be a deterrent to audiences, funders or even performers – if your music does not identify itself as part of a style or trend by some element of commonality, if it is not readily understandable, it will easily be dismissed.
Avant-post synchronicity is basically the creative cycle that occurs when an idea is broken in by someone, and it may first come as a shock, and possibly be ignored or under-rated or even criticized for a while, until years later other creators recycle the idea more successfully that the initiator. The “avant” is an outburst but the "post" is what hits the target. I have on occasion been a victim of this avant-post phenomenon – and most true creators probably have. Coming up with a new idea, but doing too early for it to be a viable vehicle – until someone else picks it up and makes it into that award-winning film soundtrack. When the "post" hits, what are the original creators to do? Laugh or cry... but most of all not look back.
posted by Elodie Lauten
1:33 PM
Friday, January 18, 2008
Human Sacrifice?
I have noted lately how often composers are asked for commissions that actually cost them money, negative commissions, so to speak, in which they are expected to support the event in more ways than one besides donating their services. I don't dare say it out loud...but whenever someone asks me for a piece, I have a moment of anxiety wondering whether I'll be able to "afford" the commission in terms not only of time but of budget. On the other hand, I am not in a position to turn down any offers as there are so many of us who have music to be performed, and I am thrilled to be asked, so I usually end up doing the project... but as of this year I need to try to better balance my earnings versus the demands of creative projects and become a bit more selective.
In our depressed arts economy where there is never enough to go around, the reasoning goes: "if the performers don't perform, we don't have a concert. The composers have already done their work so it doesn't matter if we pay them." This distorted way of thinking is prompted by harder times. Ideally, a more democratic perspective would be to divide the money equally between all the people involved: performers,composers as well as organizers who all should get compensated for their work. This would create more a kinship and a sense of respect of everyone. When I get paid the money is actually returned to the music community (performers, engineers, etc.) so it creates a healthy spiral effect in the form of new projects being realized. It goes all the way around. But as it is now, I have to wait a long time to afford to pay performers to record the new work. This is why I so often turn to doing my own performing and writing a lot of electronic music which does not require anyone else, just my fingers and my voice. Meanwhile, I have over an hour's worth of chamber and orchestral music from the past eight years that never got a chance to get properly recorded. I know what you're going to say: who cares?...
Our society is focused on the performers because they are at the front of the stage, but the musical experience does not exist without the piece. ANY composer's work is worth money, as any other work made to order, even from composers "with no fancy names" (that was the name of an event programmed by Phill Niblock), as any carpenter's work: you can do without the nice carpentry work, but it sure enhances your lifestyle and so does music. This treatment of composers is really unsettling, and it seems to be getting worse all the time. I think one should be very careful in suggesting that for any reason composers should NOT get paid...making them the the sacrificial victims of the music community. The up-side of is short-lived, and the down-side affects everyone of us, performers and composers alike, in the long run.
And by the way... here is an interesting podcast from Kyle Gann talking about the postminimalist movement. Here is the link:
http://www.ontheboards.org/
posted by Elodie Lauten
3:01 PM
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