In the “Toy Soldiers” display:

In the “Toy Soldiers” display:

I wrote yesterday about how we attended the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra’s performance to film of the score to Raiders of the Lost Ark, and I noted how impressed I was with the orchestra’s technical precision during the action cues, particularly the Desert Chase sequence, which is an extremely complex and long cue. So I figured today, why not present the actual cue as originally recorded for the film by the London Symphony Orchestra in 1981?
I thought about giving a blow-by-blow accounting of what is happening throughout this entire sequence with the timings, but I decided not to. Instead, note the structure of the cue itself: it starts with the establishing shots of the bad guys and their truck caravan heading out, and then we get some suspense music as Indy and friends watch all this and Indy hatches his plan. Then, it’s all action, all the way out. There’s a lot of back-and-forth action as Indy works to take control of the truck and dispose of the rest of the Nazis, but then there’s a long section of building tension as it looks as if Indy is really about to fail (and die in the process). It’s really an amazing cue from a compositional standpoint; Williams deploys his themes throughout in a way that really works. Too much action music in films is basically unmelodic rhythmic pounding. “The Desert Chase” is very much not that. Enjoy!

At some point in the last ten-fifteen years, orchestras happened upon a new formula for a cash-cow event: performing the entire score to a movie as the movie itself played on a screen above them. These events have proven very popular, and thus have given orchestras a much needed series of events that draw big crowds.
And yet, as much as I adore film music, I had never attended one of these events…until last week, when The Wife and I went to see Raiders of the Lost Ark at the Buffalo Philharmonic. I bought the tickets several months ago, for The Wife’s birthday in February. We’ve been trying to give events as gifts more over the last few years, and when I started “event shopping”, this was the nearest one that made me go “Oooooh, yeah, that!” So on her birthday on February 25 I got to say, “Happy birthday! I bought tickets to this thing in twelve weeks!”
Luckily, she didn’t mind.
I don’t have much to say about Raiders as a movie, since it’s one of my favorite movies of all time and I know it as well as I like any movie ever made. It did occur to me that this was the first time I’ve seen Raiders on a big screen since it came out in 1981. The movie’s story pulled me in, to the point that at times I actually forgot that the BPO was right there on the stage.
And how did the BPO do? Brilliantly, as a matter of fact. This isn’t surprising, really. The BPO is a terrific orchestra, and they were more than up to the task at hand. Their sound is really suited to the big, lush romantic sounds of John Williams’s score, especially in the showpiece cues like the Map Room sequence and the “basket chase” in Cairo. They really excelled in the extremely technical action music during the airplane fight and the “Desert Chase”, which is one of the most difficult and complex movie action cues ever written. Here the BPO held up amazingly.
The event was an absolute delight, and I’ll be looking for more such concert-filmscore performances to come!


Today being a very important day, I figured I should offer a reading.
May the Fourth be with you!
A few weeks back I was able to spend an hour or so walking around the main drag of East Aurora on a Saturday evening (The Wife was out with friends! Can you believe that!). I was hoping for some nice street photography, but while the light was pleasant (overcast but it was getting dark by then), there weren’t many people about because aside from the restaurants, all the businesses were closed. I like doing streetscapes more when there are people around. There was action at the local hockey rink, but it wasn’t even hockey! They had a kid’s soccer thing going on there, so that was a bust.
I did get some nice things, though:



A few more in this album. It wasn’t the most productive night of shooting I’ve ever had, but I did like some of the results!
I’ve featured this before–in fact, it was my Song of the Year for 2015!–but I haven’t featured it here in a while, and lately I’ve been listening to it a bit. You might say that it’s even been wandering on the back road by the rivers of my memory, ever flowin’, ever…gentle on my mind.
Today we’re going to listen to three different versions of the same piece! But don’t worry, the piece is really short. Like, really short. It’s about a minute long. And if you have ever been a viewer of CBS Sunday Morning, you know this piece well.
It’s called “Abblasen” (or “Ablassen”, I have seen both spellings while I’ve been reading up on this piece), and it’s the brief trumpet fanfare that opens the Sunday Morning show each and every week. It’s weird that through all my days as a trumpet player I never learned about the piece at all, since it’s quite probably the most familiar piece for solo trumpet out there, except for “Taps”. But now I’m glad I looked the piece up, because it turns out to have a pretty fascinating route to its current immortality.
“Ablassen” was written by Gottfried Reiche, who was a composer and a trumpet player of great renown in Leipzig during the time of Johann Sebastian Bach. Most of Reiche’s music has been lost, and he is best known now as the chief trumpet player for Bach’s work. Since Bach’s trumpet writing that would have been played by Reiche tends to be very difficult, it’s generally believed that Reiche was an extremely adept player. (To my surprise, it’s highly likely that Reiche was not the trumpeter who played the first performance of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 2, which is perhaps the “Mt. Everest” piece of virtuoso trumpet playing.)
I note above that Reiche’s compositions are mostly lost…and it turns out that the only reason we have this one isn’t because a manuscript survived, but because Reiche’s portrait was painted by a very exacting and precise artist, one Elias Gottlob Haussmann. Haussmann is best known for the famous portrait of J.S. Bach, but here’s his portrait of Gottfried Reiche:

As art, I love that painting! It captures a kind of defiant stern-ness in Reiche’s face, and I like that he has his collar open. Portraiture of that era always has a wonderful willingness to not be entirely formal. I wonder if that’s partly borne of an idea that if someone’s going to sit for a portrait for long hours, they should be comfortable while doing it…but I digress. (Also note the trumpet he’s holding: a coiled natural trumpet, from the era before valves. We’ll get back to that in a bit.)
The big focus here is that scrap of music parchment, that little fragment, in Reiche’s left hand. Many artists don’t bother to any sort of fidelity when they include written music in their art, but Haussmann did. It’s all there, mostly…there’s certainly enough there for musicologists to have been able to reconstruct that fragment into the fanfare we now know as “Ablassen”. So apparently the reason we have “Ablassen” at all owes to the meticulous reproduction of written music by a portrait artist. Imagine if Reiche hadn’t sat for this portrait…or if he hadn’t been holding that fragment of music. CBS Sunday Morning would be opening with something else.
Here are three performances of “Ablassen”. First is performed on a “natural” trumpet that has no valves. On a trumpet like this, changes in pitch are made purely with the muscles of what’s called the “embouchure”, which are basically the muscles of the lips and lower face. It’s these muscles that make the “buzzing” in the lips which then sets the air flowing through the trumpet to vibration, making sound. For reasons of musical physics, a natural trumpet can only produce scale-wise notes in its high register, where the overtones are densest; this limitation is why trumpet parts in the Classical era–Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven–are pretty boring. To get this level of chromaticism, you have to write for the trumpet in its very high register, where at the time few players could negotiate, and in any event, a trumpet playing that high tends to pretty much take over.
Second is a performance on a modern piccolo trumpet, played by Wynton Marsalis. Aside from specialists in historical performance, most repertoire like this these days is played on that kind of valved modern instrument. And finally, we have a nifty group performance of the piece. Enjoy!
(I found the information in this post in a number of places, but this site was the main source.)

Here’s something genuinely fascinating: a representation of the constituent stars of Orion, if one was able to take a journey all the way around the constellation.

Today is the generally-observed “birthday” of William Shakespeare. The actual date he entered the world is not known, but April 26, 1564 is the best we have: that was his baptismal date. As babies typically weren’t baptized right at birth, the assumption seems to be that he was actually born a few days prior, and since his death date is known to be April 26, 1616, we’ve just gone ahead and assigned that date to his birth as well.
Shakespeare is an eternal “thing I need to learn more about”, no matter how much I learn about him and no matter how much I read him. I suspect he’s that way for people who know a great deal about Shakespeare! I find discussing him with people who know him well a bit intimidating, I must admit. This makes him a subject I generally don’t try too hard to bring up when my sister, a professional Shakespeare scholar, is in town.
I won’t make a long quote from Shakespeare here, because it’s late in the day and there are things to do and there’s a lot of places to get your Bard on out there. I will, though, note my single favorite line from all of Shakespeare! (All of him that I’ve read, actually. We’re not talking “encyclopedic knowledge” here.) It comes from Much Ado About Nothing, when Benedick says this to Beatrice when she has been summoned to her uncle:
Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.
I just love that. “My love for you includes all this…but also, the mundane.” The best part of love, after all, is the mundane, isn’t it?
Happy birthday, Will!