Re: [ARSCLIST] Elliott Carter

[Michael Fitzgerald <mike@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

At 12:13 AM 3/27/2007, you wrote:
> Anyone know if Elliott Carter is still alive? If he is, he's 98. 
> Just curious. I don't see any death date for him.

He certainly is - watch this space: http://www.carter100.com/

You might be interested in this item, showing that EC is not only 
still alive, but he's not taking it easy:

=========================

The New York Times
July 27, 2006

''Milton, you're a rotten thief!'' Elliott Carter exclaimed, reading 
from a text held close to his round glasses. Milton Babbitt jolted up 
in his plush armchair. John Harbison looked on with amusement. James 
Levine watched attentively from the audience.

The stage of Seiji Ozawa Hall this week presented an extraordinary 
historical tableau. Mr. Carter, at 97 a towering figure in 
contemporary music; Mr. Babbitt, at 90 not far behind in age and 
status; and Mr. Harbison, a major composer of a younger generation 
(and a mere pup of 67) took on the three dramatic roles of Igor 
Stravinsky's ''Soldier's Tale'' at Tanglewood.

The two nonagenarians in particular have been enormously influential 
in shaping classical music currents of the last century, and here 
they were together, joining in a moment of musical high jinks.

But there was a serious undercurrent. These three composers are among 
Mr. Levine's favorites, and he programs their works regularly in his 
campaign to keep contemporary music before the public.

''I'm tickled,'' said Mr. Levine, who, as the Boston Symphony 
Orchestra's music director, oversees Tanglewood's programs, ''though 
the subtext is, that's three of my favorite composers of all time.''

''And there they are, all doing this thing together, just for fun,'' 
he added, ''which is really cute.'' He went on to draw a connection 
between the performance and the need for audiences to accept their 
kind of thorny, often harsh music. ''The idea of what we do with 
music written by living composers is just so, so critical,'' he said.

They rehearsed for the first time on Monday morning and performed 
late Tuesday afternoon. The momentousness of the occasion was not 
lost on the seven young fellows of the Tanglewood Music Center 
performing the score. All were in their early 20's, so they were in 
diapers when Mr. Carter had already been around for three-quarters of 
a century.

''You know as it's happening, you will never forget this 
performance,'' said James Zimmermann, a clarinetist from 
Hillsborough, N.J. ''These guys are already immortalized for their 
body of work.'' The bassoonist, Bradley Balliett of Westborough, 
Mass., called it ''kind of crazy'' to be onstage with them and with 
Mr. Levine, who provided some detailed musical coaching.

Mr. Levine said the piece was part of last summer's study program. 
The idea came to him when he realized that the three composers would 
be present this year. (Mr. Harbison is in charge of the composing 
department, and the works of Mr. Carter and Mr. Babbitt are featured 
this summer.)

Mr. Harbison, Mr. Levine and Ellen Highstein, the director of the 
Tanglewood Music Center, adapted the text, which tells of a soldier 
who trades his violin with the Devil in exchange for a book that 
details the future and gives him riches yet leaves him with an empty 
soul. The soldier fights back but is eventually dragged to hell by the Devil.

Written in 1918, the piece is scored for violin, clarinet, bassoon, 
trumpet, trombone, double bass and percussion in a jazzy, sardonic 
tone. The work comes with a set of stage directions but is rarely 
done as a full theatrical piece.

The adaptors cut more than half the text and updated the language. 
The soldier and the Devil were referred to as ''Elliott'' and 
''Milton.'' Instead of ''down a hot and dusty road,'' the soldier 
marched ''between Lenox and Back Bay.''

Mr. Carter was assigned the role of the soldier, creating odd moments 
in which Mr. Harbison, as the even-toned narrator, called him Boy. 
The Devil, naturally, went to Mr. Babbitt, a mischievous lover of 
wordplay and a creator of complex, almost impenetrable works. A 
practiced politician of the academy, he once wrote an article given 
the headline ''Who Cares if You Listen?''

''I do feel like the Devil,'' Mr. Babbitt said when the composers, 
Mr. Levine and this reporter sat down to talk after the Monday 
rehearsal. Why? ''I'm not accustomed to beginning my day this 
early,'' Mr. Babbitt said, deadpan. Was there something about his 
music that was devilish, he was asked. ''I've known a lot of devils, 
so I've learned their style.''

Mr. Carter, who had been a friend of Stravinsky, offered that he had 
played the soldier before, in a production with Aaron Copland as the 
narrator. John Cage played the Devil, skipped most of the rehearsals 
and shouted into the microphone at the performance. ''He made such a 
lot of noise!'' Mr. Carter said. ''John called it the 'Story of the 
Sold-Out.' ''

After the concert, Mr. Carter said, he took Stravinsky to meet Cage, 
an avant-gardist who dealt heavily in abstractions. Mr. Carter went 
on: ''Stravinsky said to John Cage: 'You're the only sensible 
composer I know. You don't write notes!' '' Mr. Carter related. Gales 
of laughter followed.

There was another precedent for composers performing ''The Soldier's 
Tale.'' In 1981, Copland, Roger Sessions and Virgil Thomson performed 
it at the Whitney Museum.

Work on the production began with five rehearsals by the young 
musicians, led by Tomasz Golka, a conducting fellow and native of 
Poland. On Monday morning, the actors arrived and settled into their 
armchairs. Mr. Babbitt wore a light green blazer; Mr. Harbison, khaki 
slacks and an open-necked shirt; Mr. Carter, orange shorts, 
suspenders, a polo shirt and a billed cap.

Mr. Harbison occasionally prompted Mr. Carter, who read his lines in 
a strong, inflected voice, pausing for effect. Mr. Babbitt punched 
out his lines in a scratchy baritone. He looked the part, with his 
slightly elongated nose and chin and a long fringe of white hair. 
They followed along with their own musical scores. (''I bought it for 
a dollar and 20 cents,'' Mr. Babbitt said.) Mr. Babbitt had trouble 
reading a last-minute insert of his ''Devil's Song,'' when he vows 
revenge on the soldier.

''Go ahead,'' he said. ''I'll find you.''

Mr. Levine let the musicians and actors run through the piece. ''It's 
just as I imagined it,'' he said. On the next go-round, he frequently 
interrupted, working closely with the musicians to sharpen and 
tighten Stravinsky's spiky notes. ''Crispy till it makes you crazy,'' he said.

The actors had their own suggestions. Mr. Carter wondered if the 
trombone should ''pipe down'' at one point. Afterward, the composers 
stayed onstage. ''Do I act too much?'' Mr. Carter asked Mr. Levine, 
who answered. ''No, I think it's great.'' The composers chatted for a 
bit about what they were working on.

Backstage, Mr. Balliett, a composer as well as a bassoonist, 
approached Mr. Babbitt. He said he had made an arrangement of the 
composer's ''Semi-Simple Variations'' for piano, for bassoon. ''I'd 
love to hear it,'' Mr. Babbitt said.

The dress rehearsal Tuesday morning went smoothly except for the 
''Devil's Song.'' Mr. Babbitt had trouble saying the lines in rhythm. 
They were indeed a mouthful, and a mischievous reference to Mr. 
Babbitt's thorny style.

If you should keep on fiddling as you do,

My dodecaphonic hexachords will bring about your fall,

And you will not be free to modulate or permutate

Or cogitate at all.

Soon, Mr. Levine was sitting in a chair next to Mr. Babbitt, drilling 
him. ''This is just too good not to get,'' Mr. Levine said.

Mr. Babbitt said, ''O.K., I'll be all right.''

At the performance that afternoon, the hall was filled with young 
Tanglewood musicians. The old lions walked onstage to cheers. In his 
box, Mr. Levine occasionally moved his hand in time. Mr. Babbitt 
handled the ''Devil's Song'' fairly well but came in early with the 
line ''Give me your fiddle.'' Mr. Carter was thrown off. He looked 
flummoxed, searching for his line. The audience murmured as the 
discomforting silence dragged on. He found his place, and yelled out 
a triumphant response: ''No!'' The audience exploded with laughter.

At the end, the nonagenarians walked off slowly, Mr. Carter using a 
cane, to ovations. Backstage, they signed autographs, like 
dodecaphonic rock stars.

Mr. Babbitt said he had first encountered the piece in 1930. 
''This,'' he said, ''is the best performance I've ever heard.''



mike at jazzdiscography.com
www.jazzdiscography.com