Both Barrels

TWO WEEKS AGO I posted a review of a biography of American abstract expressionist Barnett Newman that included a review of his work by NY Times critic John Canaday. It’s worth reproducing his lede:

Give a man enough rope, they say, and he'll hang himself. The adage received double proof this week at the Guggenheim Museum. That body hanging from the rafters belongs to the painter Barnett Newman, and the companion object swinging alongside is Lawrence Alloway, the museum's curator, who wrote the catalogue for Mr. Newman's exhibition of 14 paintings called "The Stations of the Cross."

Sir James Galway

This ran on April 23, 1966. A different time, obviously; today, Canaday plausibly could be accused and even prosecuted for hate speech, although a review, being clearly defined as an opinion piece, usually escapes such consequence. Dig up the review; you’ll be impressed by the amount of invective Canaday packs into the 600-some words he devotes to Newman’s work.

There’s a shooting-range aspect to a certain kind of review. Although it’s not, by my casual reading, as prevalent in the major periodicals, it has flourished – and then some! – in the many online platforms afforded to anyone who can use a keyboard and the internet. This blog is one of them, but I’m here to appraise Canaday and his ilk, not to bury them. 

X Marks the Audio Spotlight

From the CD Vault Dept.: Back when Dorian Recordings was a thriving label based in Troy, NY, the aim was to produce the best-sounding CDs possible, which began with a recording location – the Troy Music Hall – that was (and remains) one of the best in the world. Beyond that, there were technical considerations brought to bear, and I wrote the piece below to explain the engineering wizardry that went into the finest-sounding of their CDs.  

                                                                                            

AS AN AUDIOPHILE LABEL launched early in the digital age of recordings, Dorian Recordings has always set, maintained, and even exceeded the finest standards. Since its inception in 1989, Dorian has presented a varied series of CDs that include the exciting early music performances of the Baltimore Consort, the organ fireworks of Jean Guillou, the warm sound of the Dallas Symphony, and many other performers who transcend the bounds of classical music.

Craig Dory and Brian Levine
in the Troy Music Hall

Recently, Dorian introduced the xCD series of compact discs, a hand-selected group of recordings that embody the best of the meticulous technology that goes into every Dorian recording – technology that is itself, in Dorian’s hands, an art form. To understand what makes the xCD series special, let’s look first at the recording chain that’s behind every release.

It begins with excellent musicians, of course, and an appropriate venue. Dorian co-founder Craig Dory is the mastermind behind the recording technology, but for him the process begins with the sounds. “I look for a hall that’s spectrally interesting with complex reflections, in which the sounds arrive early and stay longer. Not only does this add an attractive glow to the sound but the artists feel better in a great hall.”

Portrait of the Artist . . .

NO PROMINENT ARTIST – at least none who ever talked about it – merged his personal identity so thoroughly with his work as American painter Barnett Newman. We know what he thought about his work and himself because he wrote about it extensively, often in the form of essays and reviews and other screeds that he churned out tirelessly. He was as eloquent in his prose as he was spare in his painting, although he’d have been the first to jump down my throat for such a glib assessment, so let me explain.

Newman came to prominence as one of a loosely affiliated, New York-based group who, by developing what came to be termed abstract expressionism, wheeled the world’s center of art from Paris to their home city. Although there was enough commonality in these works to merit the umbrella term, look more closely and you see how different they were. You’d never mistake a Jackson Pollock for a de Kooning or Rothko, but the collective impudence of this anti-realist art kept many galleries and critics idling on the safe ground of the likes of Hopper and Benton. 

Newman was one of a group of 18 who wrote an open letter to the president of the Metropolitan Museum of Art condemning a proposed exhibit titled “American Painting Today: 1950.” They believed that the candidates were being selected by a too-conservative jury, thus ignoring what they believed was the true face of American art. The letter was published in the New York Times on May 22, 1950, and the controversy it aroused led to a story in Life magazine titled “Irascible Group of Advanced Artists Led Fight Against Show,” and picturing 15 of the 18 posed in a stark, possibly angry manner. Thus they became known as “The Irascibles.” And that article represents the comparatively brief moment when the artists supported and encouraged one another.

My Least-Favorite Things

From the Poetry Vault Dept.: I found an old essay of mine that I wrote with no eye to publication. I merely wanted to indulge my persistent grumpiness by analyzing a song parody to explain why it doesn’t work. 

                                                                                      

HERE’S THE PROBLEM with trying to parody someone like Oscar Hammerstein. You have to know the rules of scansion and rhyming. And you have to know how to set up a gag so the payoff is as effective as possible. There’s a parody of “My Favorite Things” that’s been around for a while, aimed at the aged (like me). But it reflects the poor craftsmanship of junior-league poets. Let’s see what we’re working with here:

The lyric is presented as “These are a few of my favorite things.” If it’s meant to be the title, the writer should know that the title is merely “My Favorite Things.”

It begins: “Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting, 
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,”

But “fittings” and “knitting” don’t rhyme properly.

“Bundles of magazines tied up in string, 
These are a few of my favorite things.”