The world has reached a sad state when our individual and institutional  worth is measured by how many people like us on a social media web site.  But, alas, these are modern times and in the spirit of getting with the program, we have created a Sequenza 21 Facebook page where we are cheerfully posting and reposting daily the new music community’s responses to the relevant news and happenings of the day.  You might say that making Mark Zuckerberg richer and more devious on the slippery slope of privacy rights has become a passion of ours.  If they can now x-ray your privates as you pass through airport security, what else do we have to lose?

But I digress.  Right now on the Sequenza21 page, you’ll find many of the obits, tributes, and reflections on the passing of Dave Brubeck and Jonathan Harvey, as well as samples of works completed and started, favorite YouTube videos, and the usual bitches and moans about the sorry state of the classical music business.  We’d love to have you join us.  We might even report your latest concert or CD announcement.  Come on over.

And don’t forget to hit the “Like” button.

What becomes a legend most? Well, in the case of two legends–director/designer Robert Wilson and composer Philip Glass, an international tour of their first and most famous of their five collaborations, EINSTEIN ON THE BEACH (1975-76 ), which began in Ann Arbor, Michigan in January ’12, goes on to  Amsterdam in Jan’ 13., and ends in Hong Kong in Mar’13. But there’s an irony. The piece “that broke all the rules of opera “– there’s no story, and certainly no star-crossed lovers, murder, or even betrayal — is an endeavor on a par with the scale, ambition, and wor force of 65, onstage and off ,  a standard repertory work, with–according to lighting supervisor John Torres–800 cues, with about 75 each for its Dance 1 and Dance 2. And its incarnation at BAM’s Howard Gilman Opera House, UC Berkeley’s Zellerbach Hall, and Mexico City’s Palacio De Bellas Artes was the product of 4-5 days of technical– each scenic element and the actors and dancers are lit separately–and cast rehearsals, with about a week’s lodging for all at each stop. But did EINSTEIN  exceed or even live up to its reputation as a seminal work of 2oth century music theatre? Judged by what I saw in New York and Berkeley, it clearly did, and it also drove home the simple fact that seeing it with others in a darkened theatre is a far more complete experience than hearing it at home alone on even the best sound system, and I’ve listened to both its original 1979 Tomato LP recording and its 1993 Nonesuch CD set many times over the years. But let’s face it . Music is as confrontational as anything else. It’s like meeting someone online. They may e-mail in a certain tone of voice, and may come at you differently if you speak on the phone, but encounters face to face are a different thing. It’s no longer an invention, but something implausibly real.

In the spring of 2003, I was finishing up my undergrad thesis at the University of Southern Mississippi. I’d been studying Elliott Carter’s Quintet for Piano and Winds for months, and trying to make heads and tails of his newly published Harmony Book. When I learned about the premiere of Carter’s Boston Concerto, my wife and I decided we were making a trip. We scraped up the money (some of it might have been funded by a payday loans Australia company) and flew to Boston. I thought (foolishly looking back now) that this 94 year old composer could not have many world premieres left in him so we should not miss this one.
So early April 2003, we were sitting in Symphony Hall listening to a splendid concert of Ives, Mahler, Bartok and Carter. As the last notes of the Boston Concerto rang out I remember shooting to my feet and applauding. I looked around and I saw one other young person had done the same. As soon as the entire concert was over I pretty much left my wife in her seat and ran out of the hall hoping to catch Mr. Carter. I arrived at the stage doors and one other person was already waiting there. It was the young guy that had also sprung up to applaud. I asked if he’d seen Elliott Carter yet and he said no. I said, “Elliott Carter is old. He can’t move that fast.” We turned and saw Elliott Carter and his entourage moving slowly toward the exit. I told the other guy, “Let’s stand between him and the exit. He’ll have to give us an autograph then.”
I stood there as he signed a program for the other guy. Mr. Carter looked at me. I was holding my copy of his Harmony Book. He exclaimed, “I can’t believe someone bought that thing! It was a hundred dollars!” I told him that I had purchased my copy on sale. As he signed my book I told him that I had come all the way from Mississippi just to hear the world premiere of the Boston Concerto. He said, “Wow! Was it worth it?” I was pretty starstruck and I couldn’t really say much more by this point. All I could do was nod yes.
I was speechless (which is rare for me). Carter’s music has always been an incredible influence on me. When I got the signed copy in my hands I broke down in tears. My wife and I walked to the BSO coat check and the older gentleman working there asked why I was crying. All I could do was point at the signed title page of the Harmony Book. He smiled and patted me on the back.
We then walked down the street to have dinner at Brasserie Jo in the Colonnade. I looked up and saw Carter and his entourage being seated at a table in a corner by themselves.
When asked where we’d like to be seated, I pointed at Elliott Carter and replied, ‘Right next to them!’ My wife yelled at me, “No stalking Elliott Carter!”
The maître d’ said no also. Apparently they’d asked to be seated in the back away from everyone.

My wife still likes to point out to me that the other guy waiting on an autograph was probably the only person to have their program signed by Mr. Carter and that I should have gotten my program signed also. It never really crossed my mind to get my program signed. The book was more than enough.