Concert Review: The Bleeding Hearts and Artists

The American Symphony Orchestra stands up for what's right.

by Paul J. Pelkonen

Leonard Bernstein and Aaron Copland back in the day.
Photo from the estate of Leonard Bernstein.

A peculiar sense of existential dread hung over Wednesday night’s concert at Carnegie Hall, the first of the young season featuring the American Symphony Orchestra under the baton of its long time music director Dr. Leon Botstein. For this concert, titled “The Sounds of Democracy”,Dr. Botstein chose 20th century music by Leonard Bernstein, Roger Sessions and Aaron Copland, leading lights of American music in the last century but now largely ignored by the fast-food reality-television culture of the 21st.

Concert Review: Swimming Against the Third Stream

The New York Philharmonic premieres (most of) Wynton Marsalis' new symphony.

by Paul J. Pelkonen

Trombonist Joseph Alessi was the featured soloist at the New York Philharmonic on Wednesday night.
Photo by Chris Lee. Copyright 2016 The New York Philharmonic.

In 1957, the nexus between the tradition of European classical music and American jazz was dubbed the "third stream" by the late composer Gunther Schuller. On Wednesday night at the New York Philharmonic, Alan Gilbert and his orchestra essayed this dangerous crossing with the world premiere of Wynton Marsalis’ new symphony The Jungle (Symphony No. 4). It shared the program with works by Aaron Copland and William Bolcom that also explored this juxtaposition of musical styles.

The Prisoner of Sixth Avenue

Or... My worst Fourth of July. (1991)
by Paul J. Pelkonen

The year was 1991. I had finished a desultory freshman year at Fordham University. Being a young college student (OK, I was 18 and a year ahead) I had to get myself a summer job.

The month before, I had started applying to record stores. Most of these were part of a large, uncaring chain run by a larger, uncaring holding company. Back then, these stores were everywhere in Manhattan. HMV. Tower. Coconuts. Sam Goody. Most were bloated, badly run supermarkets, each of which was filled with a vast selection of recorded music that most of the staff didn't care about.

But what did I know? I was 18. After several failed applications, I found out that the brand-new Sam Goody in Greenwich Village was hiring for its classical department.

"Classical?" I thought. "I can do that."