The Write Thing

I have always thought that music other than classical or opera sounds better in studio recordings. In fact, it has often been incredibly annoying to me to be forced to witness a totally different version of a song — where sharp Cs suddenly go flat or lower. It is the closest experience to fraud. Another factor that goes against live sessions in pop or rock music, for example, is that singers’ voices tend to be a disappointment. Phil Collins’ voice is one case that comes to mind. The velvet-like substance of his sound in studio albums of the 1990s or later cannot compare at all with the scratchy, sometimes flat metallic ring that he has when he’s performing live.
As a matter of fact, very few people can boast a really good and rich voice when they go live, and avoid undermining their own studio reputations. Paul McCartney is an example of those who can in the world of male singers, and Barbra Streisand is his counterpart among women.
However, in the realm of opera, the live-studio conundrum can only be resolved in favor of the live performance. Live is where the passion is. Opera is one of the most complete forms of artistic expression. Music, acting and dancing converge in a unique synthesis of perfection — when it is done well, of course. Live in opera might mean Callas singing the E flat to close the Triumphal scene at the end of the second act of Aida in the Mexico 1951 version (yes, a magnificent moment of ecstasy for the ear, soul and mind), or Caballé extending her pianissimo beyond the humanly possible at the end of “Signore ascolta”. It can mean standing ovations that would beat the delirious paroxysm of the hooligans in a regular World Cup Final. These are but a few of the examples of why opera should, above all, be live…Centuries later, it breathes as much passion in as it lets out.

The key difference between Gibert Jeune and Gibert Joseph lies in the fact that the latter is a wider experience to the thirsty mind. Only a few years ago, to be honest, did Joseph expand its array of books and fanciful stationery (I have fallen in love with oh so many calligraphy sets…) to include DVDs and CDs, in one of the most amazing musical and movie selections ever. Another great thing is that you can even get hold of used items there, which both reduces the budget and expands the opportunity of finding real treasures.

In my life, I have made two wonderful discoveries at Gibert Joseph: Brad Mehldau and Jan Dismar Zelenka. Mehldau happened first, back when he was relatively unknown to the inexperienced Jazz ear. It was on the occasion of the launch of his CD Songs: Art of the Trio III, which remains my favorite by far. I remember ambling around the Classical section of the store, putting on the headphones and transporting myself in time and space into wherever Brad took me. I bought the CD and listened to it hours on end as I was preparing myself for the big test of France.

The second discovery took place much later, in 2005. I was there for work reasons, having long got back to Buenos Aires. I entered Gibert, browsed through the DVDs (which is what I normally do, in that order), and headed for the Classical section at the end of the corridor. At first, I did not notice the peace and the magic around me. It was only minutes later that I was caught into the spell of the wondrous Zelenka. My first guess was Bach, of course. I would have even stretched it to Vivaldi. But there was something that seemed both unheard of and familiar in that work. It was the first time in my life I had felt that ambiguity. I mean, we have all listened to Baroque music, and it seems OK to work, cook, and even make love to it. But this…this was something different. There was a quiet hunger in those sounds.

I went to the counter, for the first time in my decades of music-loving indulgence, and asked the shop assistant to tell me what we were listening to. Zelenka was the name he gave me. I thought, at first, that he might be one of these modern freaks who decide they can compose like Bach. If it was the case, this was a good one, because he even sounded better than Bach — he was different. I decided to buy the set of three CDs with his Orchestral Works.

There are no photographs or drawings of Zelenka. He remains — to this day — an unknown virtuoso. In the 1960s, a group of people with an ear for passion decided to bring him back to life. It turns out to be that Zelenka is, as a matter of fact, a real genius, and musicologists worldwide dare to place him on a same level as Bach. He was probably unlucky, as fortuna does exist, much to the dismay of working souls. Some years from now he will be known for his unique talent. After more than 300 years, there is something new to emerge from Baroque music. Zelenka was just living in the wrong times.