The Live ‘n’ Local Completely Non-Arbitrary, Totally Objective, and Fully Informed 2011 Music Awards

Um, yeah. Personal interests, subjective biases, and half-baked ideas play absolutely no role in what is about to follow. These are the highlights of my year in music. Awards style.

(Drum roll, please.)

MOST ADDICTIVE INDIE POP ALBUM OF 2011 DESPITE THE FACT IT WAS ACTUALLY RELEASED IN 2010 AWARD

With her smoky “whisky and honey” voice, jangly guitars, upbeat rhythms alternating with slow, moody melodies, and catchy songs that you simply must sing along to while dancing in your kitchen/living room/bedroom, Ash Reiter’s Paper Diamonds (self-released, 2010) easily wins this one. As I didn’t discover and become addicted to it till this year, it seemed appropriate to include it in the 2011 awards. Favorite songs include the high-energy title track (I double dare you not to sing along with the chorus: “Give me love, oh give me looooooooove…”), the soft, atmospheric “Albatross,” and the moody, plaintive “La Bahia.” I guarantee your husband/wife/roommate/neighbor/dog will love it too, which is a good thing when you play it ten times a day.

MOST DELICIOUSLY SHIVER-INDUCING INTERPRETATION OF A CLASSIC AWARD

This one goes to bassist/composer Seth Ford-Young for his spellbinding version of Erik Satie’s already gorgeous “Gnossienne No. 1” from his eponymously titled debut album (Porto Franco Records, 2011). Ford-Young’s achingly beautiful Gnossienne features the always amazing Rob Reich on accordion and Evan Price on violin, and between them they will break your heart into a million pieces. Don’t be surprised if you shed a tear or two listening to this, or if you’re suddenly inspired to grab a dark stranger for a slow, intimate dance.

If you’re a big Satie fan like me, you might also be interested in another incredible interpretation of this particular Gnossienne by Spanish guitarist/singer Javier Ruibal, which Dore Stein of Tangents Radio first turned me on to. Ruibal’s “La Flor de Estambul” is Satie’s music set to lyrics in Spanish. Yum!

MOST INTERESTING AND INDESCRIBABLE PERFORMANCE ON AN ELECTRIC GUITAR AWARD

The absolute highlight of the Outsound New Music Summit this year was Italian avant rock guitarist IOIOI’s improvised response to local composer Kanoko Nishi’s graphic score, a mysterious series of drawings of which the audience only ever saw the effects. IOIOI (Cristiana Fraticelli) used a loop station and a bunch of effects pedals to build sounds and textures on the guitar, which mostly lay flat on the ground before her. Sitting atop the strings she had placed a prayer bowl that she tapped and in which she rattled various objects, creating vibrations along the guitar strings. She also used chopsticks on the guitar in the most remarkable ways that I can’t even begin to describe. At times she played the guitar like it was a violin, at times like it was a percussive instrument, and all of these sounds were layered upon one another for a mesmerizing effect.

But if I could sum up what made it all so utterly captivating, it was the purity of IOIOI’s childlike curiosity in exploring all the sonic possibilities of her instrument. I was very lucky to spend some time with her after this performance and record a great interview with her and Nishi about their creative process. Hopefully some day I will write more about that.

BEST REBUTTAL BY A FAMOUS CELLIST TO A FAMOUS HECKLING VIOLIST AWARD

Amongst the many contenders for this award, in the end I had to give it to cellist Joan Jeanrenaud for her response to the eighty-five year old violist Bernie Zaslav’s horrendous heckling at a small avant-chamber concert dedicated to the viola.

The incident—which involved the heckled musician throwing his viola to the ground mid-performance (which, of course, broke it) and storming off stage, once he had untangled himself from the curtains—became know locally as The Viola Riot AKA Viola Gate. When one particularly irate member of the audience repeatedly accused Zaslav of being nothing more than “an asshole,” Zaslav indignantly countered, “I am a violist,” to which the quick-thinking Ms. Jeanrenaud rejoined from her seat in the audience, “Violists can be assholes too!” Priceless. To get the full story in more detail than you probably care for, see my The Riot of Spring, 2011.

MOST ELECTRIFYING PERFORMANCE AT THE REVOLUTION CAFE AWARD

And yes, the Rev does warrant its own category. Every night of the week you can catch live music there and it’s always free. Of course, it’s a well known fact that the musicians get paid shit, so keep that in mind when the tip jar is being passed around. Despite this, it is still a place to hear great music on a fairly consistent basis. Over the years, I have been introduced to some fantastic acts there, thanks to drummer Aaron Kierbel and bassist Joe Lewis, who have been booking the music there. In August this year, guitarist Vic Wong, who regularly plays there with his gypsy jazz group, Panique, introduced one of France’s leading gypsy jazz guitarists, Sebastien Giniaux and his quartet.

Suffice it to say, this man was insanely good. Sometimes he played so fast, I couldn’t actually see where his hand was. At one point I thought I saw smoke rising from his guitar strings (seriously!). Giniaux played a mixture of original and classic gypsy jazz tunes, with charming references to pop culture nonchalantly thrown in, like when he started one song with a gypsy jazz version of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” then seamlessly shifted into a Django Reinhardt tune as though it was always meant to be played this way. If Giniaux’s electrifying playing weren’t enough, there were also a group of swing dancers performing some outrageous moves in the tiny, cramped space that is the Rev. The crowd went absolutely wild. This one will definitely go down as one of the best nights ever at the Rev.

MOST MEMORABLE LINE OUT OF A MUSICIAN’S MOUTH DURING AN INTERVIEW AWARD

By this I mean an interview that I personally conducted, of which there were many this year, more than I was able to write about in the end. Most of my interviews are done one-on-one, but occasionally I interview people together, which can be a lot of fun too. This was the case back in May after the Cardiacs tribute show at Café du Nord when I interviewed four members of ReCardiacs Fly (normally members of Reconnaissance Fly). Guitarist Marc Laspina arrives late to the conversation; unlike the others, still sporting the Cardiacs’ signature white cake makeup with smeared red lipstick. Expounding the genius that is Cardiacs, he blithely lets slip the line “Musically it’s like opening God’s cookbook.” I just really liked that line.

ReCardiacs Fly

To learn all about that evening and why so many people become obsessive Cardiacs fans, once they finally discover this British band’s crazy prog/punk music, read my Too Many Irons (and Other Recipes). Also, check out some posts on the topic of Cardiacs and their local tribute band, ReCardiacs Fly on the Memory Select blog.

MOST MAGICAL, UNBELIEVABLYFUCKINGGOOD TRIBUTE SHOW EVER AWARD

Apart from the just mentioned Cardiacs tribute show and, of course, the show that ultimately wins this award, I can’t say I’ve been to too many tribute shows this year, not to mention in my whole life. However, I can assure you that the truth of the following falls into the category philosopher Immanuel Kant called “synthetic a priori,” which basically means I don’t need to have gone to any tribute shows to know that this one was the best EVER.

Of course, I’m talking about the Amy Winehouse Tribute show with San Francisco’s soul/funk/blues powerhouse Con Brio at Viracocha in August, the show that left me rather gobsmacked, as you can see from the post I wrote about it the next day. I’m not sure I’m any more articulate on the topic four months later. What blew me away was the incredible talent of all the artists involved—Con Brio and their dazzlingly good lead singer, Xandra Corpora, and all the amazing guest vocalists, Rose Logue, Amber Gougis, Wolf Larsen, Atiim Chenzira, P. Wolf & Avi (now Goodnight, Texas), Ali Niedbalski, Latriece Love, and Quinn DeVeaux—and how they managed to pull together such a magical show in so short a space of time. Each one made the Amy Winehouse songs they sung their own while also honoring the memory of this bright, shining star that burned out way too soon.

While we’re on the topic of Con Brio, I have to mention their impressive debut, From the Hip (self-released, 2010), which would have won an award except that it was released last year and I already pulled a fast one above with another 2010 album. Con Brio are about to release their second album, The Bay is Burning (a live recording), on February 11th at The Independent. It should be a fantastic show with the lively Latin-fusion band LoCura opening.

THREE BEST ALBUM RELEASES OF THE YEAR BECAUSE IT WAS TOO HARD TO CHOOSE JUST ONE AWARD

Narrowing it down to three was already difficult enough, but I managed to pick three very different albums for this award, though interestingly, all feature strings.

First on the list is The Nice Guy Trio‘s stunning second album, Sideways and Alleys/Walking Music (Porto Franco Records, 2011), so-named for the two suites—composed by accordionist Rob Reich and trumpeter Darren Johnston, respectively—for the trio plus string quartet. I was lucky to attend the premiere of these two works at the Yerba Buena Gardens last year, though the beginning of Johnston’s Walking Music was rudely drowned out for several minutes by the clanging bells of St. Patrick’s across the street, a fact that made me cringe with embarrassment because the church had been built by my great-great-uncle, a Catholic Monsignor, after the original St. Patrick’s had been reduced to a pile of rubble in the 1906 earthquake. Amazing how family can still embarrass over 75 years after they’re gone!

Thankfully, these awful bells do not make it onto this album that represents a real development for both composers, neither of whom had written music for a string quartet before. Reich is known for his epic, cinematic scores, and Sidewalks and Alleys is no different in that respect, whereas Johnston’s Waking Music has much more of a jazz swing to it, though there are also strong elements of classical and folk in his compositions, with hints here and there of the East. The album is full of haunting melodies brought to life beautifully by the strings. But there is also a real depth to the music beyond the prettiness. The robust sense of journey in both suites is heightened by the composers’ adventurousness, by their willingness to turn dark corners and wander down half-illuminated pathways, traversing many moods and emotional landscapes.

The second album to win this award is the delightful debut offering by Musical Art QuintetNuevo Chamber (Classical Revolution, 2011). While I am as guilty as the next person of using such terms as “genre-defying” to describe music that draws on multiple styles for inspiration, it is safe to say that this album lies firmly in the chamber category, which is not to say that it does not bend or stretch that category in any way. On the contrary, the quintet’s composer, bassist Sascha Jacobsen (who is also a member of tango ensemble Trio Garufa) deftly incorporates many styles of music, most prominently Argentine tango. The album’s title—which, I suppose I should confess, I inadvertently furnished during an innocent conversation with Jacobsen about the quintet’s style—is an allusion to Nuevo Tango, the style of music pioneered by Astor Piazzolla that draws on traditional tango while also incorporating elements of jazz and classical. The newer electro-tango wave, which includes such bands as Gotan Project and Bajofondo, could be considered an extension of this musical development. Indeed, Jacobsen also throws a few electro-tangos in the mix on Nuevo Chamber.

As much as I love the album, it is no substitute for a live performance by the quintet. When they opened for Quijerema at Yoshi’s in October, they completely stole the show and had the audience eating out of their hands within seconds of their first piece, the lively “Milonga de San Francisco,” which also opens Nuevo Chamber. They’ve also brought down the house a number of times at the Revolution Café’s Monday night chamber jam. Jacobsen’s high-energy, rhythmic compositions have a lightness and airiness to them that makes their sweetness all the more digestible. In live performances, he gives each of his musicians plenty of space to improvise and show off their stuff. Lately, the insanely talented violin player Matthew Szemela, who until very recently was based in NY, has also been jamming with the quintet, driving the crowds wild. This man could seriously out-fiddle the devil himself! Live ‘n’ Local and Classical Revolution will be teaming up on January 13th to present the first in a series we’re calling “Electric Chamber,” which features both MAQ and Szemela’s duo, Vytal Theory.

The last winner of this award is Foxtails Brigade for their utterly charming “sort-of-Christmas album,” Time Is Passed (self-released, 2011). Foxtails Brigade is Laura Weinbach on vocals, guitar, and compositions and Anton Patzner on violin and arrangements, with cellist Lewis Patzner, percussionist/multi-instrumentalist Josh Pollack, and bassist Joe Lewis helping out. Both Weinbach and Patzner are classically trained musicians from musical families, so it is no surprise to find sophisticated, intricate instrumentation on this chamber pop album that is simply gorgeous. Foxtails’ music also has elements of jazz and blues, particularly in Weinbach’s vocal stylings. That she was made as a child to memorize and perform jazz standards from the likes of Blossom Dearie (an unusual form of punishment for bad behavior!) comes through in her lush, almost angelic singing, especially in songs like “Lost in an Endless Dream” or “I’m Not Really In the Christmas Mood This Year.”

But make no mistake, the pretty-as-a-picture Weinbach—who looks a little like a Victorian urchin who has stepped out of Edward Gorey illustration—is no angel. Her lyrics are full of doom and gloom, like in the whimsical “Unfairness Awareness,” where she sings about all the other ungrateful children getting ridiculous Christmas presents they don’t deserve: “Diamonds for Daniel / though he’s a boy / three puppies for Amanda / she thinks they’re toys / And when everybody else receives their fun-filled treat / there’s only dust for me.” No wonder she’s not in the mood for Christmas! All this slightly misanthropic sentiment around the holidays is, of course, what ultimately adds to the bittersweet charm of Time Is Passed.

GREATEST CONTRIBUTION TO THE LOCAL MUSIC SCENE AWARD

Speaking of bittersweet, it is with some sadness that I announce that the winner of this award is Peter Varshavsky and Porto Franco Records for their tireless work supporting and promoting local music in the Bay Area. Peter and his father, Sergei, started the label almost three years ago and within that short space of time have managed to release an incredible selection of music from local artists. We’ve already mentioned Seth Ford-Young’s eponymous debut and The Nice Guy Trio’s Sideways and Alleys/Walking Music. Also released this year was Marcus Shelby Orchestra’s Soul of the Movement: Meditations on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (more coming on that soon!), Gojogo’s 28,000 Days, the Mitch Marcus Quintet’s Countdown 2 Meltdown, to name just a few. In their three years, Porto Franco have released music from a wide variety of artists across many genres, such as Ethiopian-born singer/songerwriter Meklit Hadero, Balkan brass powerhouse Brass Menazeri, blues singer/guitarist Seth Augustus, gypsy jazz ensemble Gaucho, and indie pop duo Ramon and Jessica.

But, as it turns out, not having a particular niche is not a viable business model and so going into 2012, Porto Franco will be phasing out the record label aspect of their activity, focusing instead of the less-costly Porto Franco Files, a successful video series that Peter started this year. Although Peter will be returning to graduate school to complete his studies in mathematics, I’m sure Porto Franco will continue to do great work, actively supporting the local creative music scene and promoting San Francisco as a music destination to rival the likes of New Orleans or Nashville.

HANDS DOWN THE BEST PERFORMANCE OF THE YEAR AWARD

I didn’t even have to think about this one. Without a doubt, this goes to Steven Schick and the Paul Dresher Ensemble for Schick Machine, which played at Z Space in April this year. Schick Machine is a collaboration between Paul Dresher, local composer and inventor of some of the wildest instruments you’ve ever seen, Daniel Schmidt, another inventor of crazy musical instruments, Matt Heckert, builder of kinetic sculptures, and renowned writer/director Rinde Eckert. The one-man show is performed by Steven Schick, a master percussionist with an astounding ability to extract every texture of sound from objects, be they simple household objects, wildly inventive creations that are both visually stunning and rich with sound possibilities, or sparser inventions born of an idiosyncratic mind.

Schick Machine‘s lone character, Lazlo Klangfarben, moves around from station to station in his subterranean (as I imagine it) sound laboratory that looks like the whirring, spinning, grinding internal workings of a giant piano organ. At times he conducts a kind of locomotive symphony between the different parts of the huge machine, at other times he plays a single instrument tenderly and slow, and the playing becomes a kind of meditative dance. Eckert’s philosophical ponderings through the character of Klangfarben punctuate Schick’s virtuosic playing, and add the kind of intellectual depth these wild inventions demand. His words capture beautifully the emotional resonance Schick extracts from each instrument, and the narrative frame provides a solid context for Schick’s sonic explorations.

I do hope the Paul Dresher Ensemble considers a re-run of this incredible show in 2012.

Well that’s it, folks, for this year. Congratulations and many thanks to all our winners, and here’s to another great year in music!

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The Riot of Spring, 2011

A strange thing happened recently. On Sunday June 5th, after writing Zero Point (a post, in part, about avant-garde art and the challenges audiences may face in “getting it”), I attended a concert at the Royce Gallery, a small venue in the Mission District. It was an evening dedicated to the much-neglected viola—or, perhaps, to the much-maligned violist—curated and produced by experimental composer/performer Pamela Z. This particular installment of Z’s “ROOM: Avant-Chamber” series was called “Longer Burning.”

In case you didn’t get it, the title of the event comes from the punchline to a joke that starts, “Why is the viola better than the violin?” Yeah. . . because the viola burns longer. Get it? The Facebook page advertising the event used a photo of a viola sitting on top of some burning logs in a fireplace, though Pamela Z assured us in a comment on the event page’s wall that “No violas will be harmed in the making of this concert!”

This, for better or worse, was not to be the case.

Starting the program was Charlton Lee, violist and founder of Del Sol String Quartet. He performed three solo pieces, the first of which—Edmond Campion’s “Melt Me So”—was written for solo cello, violin, or viola with a live interactive computer accompanist. The computer takes input, in this case from Lee’s viola, and analyzes it to enhance “temporal, spectral and gestural details of the performance.” (Program Notes) It was fascinating to watch this novel interaction between musician and computer.

Lee’s second piece, the charming “Calligraphy “by Iranian composer Reza Vali, Lee explained, explored Persian tuning, rhythm, and form. His third, local composer Matthew Cmiel’s “Insistence,” was a thoroughly modern piece, though nothing that ventured too far “out” there. In the program notes for this last piece, Cmiel (presumably) writes: “It is really fun to ask someone to go insane for you on stage in front of an audience. This piece comes from Shostakovich’s 10th Symphony portrait of Stalin, from Mozart’s Queen of the Night Aria in The Magic Flute, Berg’s title character throughout Wozzeck, and Stravinsky’s elders in The Rite of Spring.”

It would not be the only time Stravinsky’s Rite would be referred to that evening.

The second solo violist to perform that evening was JHNO (pronounced juh-no) AKA John Eichenseer, who describes himself as “a nomadic musician, recording artist, and music technologist.” He has written music software for Bjork, Laurie Anderson, Brian Eno, and Thomas Dolby and has performed with Todd Sickafoose, Scott Amendola and Nels Cline, amongst others.

I had never heard of him before this event. Charlton Lee of Del Sol and Kronos Quartet’s violist Hank Dutt, who was performing in the second half, were the main attractions for me that evening. The program did not give much information about JHNO’s piece, other than it was “Untitled” for viola and electronics.

When the performance began, a viola sat on the floor while Eichenseer, a tall, long-haired young man, fiddled around on a computer. It’s difficult to remember much, given what unfolded afterwards, but there was some kind of amplified feedback system between computer and viola and the effect that was generated was more soundscape than music per se. (I say this recognizing, of course, that what counts as “music” is a complex question, especially when the avant-garde is concerned.)

While it seems to be unpopular to say this now, I was not especially enjoying Eichenseer’s performance. I worried a little about my friends, one of whom had just arrived the day before from Thailand. I had dragged them to this concert, so I felt some responsibility for their enjoyment and I guessed that they were most likely not enjoying this piece much either.

Not long into the performance, an elderly couple in the front row (I was sitting behind them in the third) started to become visibly agitated. Eichenseer had picked up the viola by this point, but he was still not “playing” it, in any traditional sense of the word. Its movement in space and Eichenseer’s occasional plucking seemed to affect the noise that the computer was generating. The old woman in the front row fussed with her purse and the couple looked like they were about to walk out. But they didn’t.

Instead, the old man began to applaude loudly, shouting, “Bravo! Bravo!” It was clear he was trying to stop the performance, perhaps hoping that others in the audience would follow his daring lead. But nobody did. The protest eventually stopped and the performance continued.

A member of staff approached the couple, whispering something to the old woman. Audience members looked around at one another with vaguely amused faces. While many of the performances I attend—both dance and music, it seems—involve at least one person in the audience walking out, I had never been to a concert where someone had actually tried to stop the performance because he didn’t like what he was hearing. It was bizarre, to say the least. I wondered again what my friends must be thinking of it all.

Now Eichenseer had the viola tucked under his chin and was playing it with a bow. After a short time, the old man raised his hands for the second time and began to applaud, repeating his shouts of “Bravo! Bravo!” Eichenseer seemed to increase the intensity of the sounds he was making in response to the heckling. Tension in the room mounted. My sense was that people wanted this old dude to shut up, but nobody knew what to do.

As the old man’s heckling continued, Eichenseer suddenly stopped playing and, like a petulant teenager, threw his viola to the ground and attempted to storm off the stage, though he got tangled in the black curtains that covered the side door. After a few seconds negotiating the curtains, he disappeared. A loud slamming was heard and we all sat there completely stunned by what we had just witnessed.

Meanwhile, the amplified feedback from the viola continued. I and others had to cover our ears, such were the noise levels. Eventually a member of the audience—a local musician and friend of Eichenseer—walked on stage, knelt down and slowly turned over the mangled viola, finally ending the feedback. That image is indelibly etched in my memory. The broken viola, the mess of strings, the horrible sound, the palpable tension in the room. I had never seen a musician destroy his own instrument and I never expected it would be a viola at a chamber concert. It was a very sad moment, indeed.

Another member of the audience, a young man, got up from his seat, announced that he was also a violist, and called for a “real round of applause for the performance” we had just heard. In solidarity with the artist whose performance had been so rudely and abruptly brought to and end by this old geezer in the front, the audience clapped and clapped. Pamela Z announced that this was the end of the first half and requested we return after an intermission.

A chorus from the audience then started to confront the old couple, telling them they ought to leave, that they had destroyed everyone’s else enjoyment, that if they didn’t like something they could just go. The elderly man defended himself, saying, “I am a violist and this was not music. It was a desecration!” One man in the audience responded to this, repeatedly telling the old man that he was nothing more than “an asshole.” Again, the old man defended himself, restating that he was, in fact, a violist, to which one woman, possibly Joan Jeanrenaud, rebutted, “Violists can be assholes too!”

The couple was not moved in the slightest by any of this and stayed, unapologetic, for the second part of the performance. I exited to the lobby to drink some wine and calm my nerves a bit. Discussion with the couple apparently continued inside.

Outside, others had the same idea as me. We were definitely grateful for the wine that was being served liberally. People tried to make light of the situation and joked around with one another to relieve the stress we all felt. My Thai friend, who was feeling quite upset by what she had just seen, was assured that this was not normal for performances in San Francisco.

Already by this point references were being made to the 1913 opening night of the Ballets Russes’ The Rite of Spring, where a riot broke out in the theater in response to Stravinsky’s score and (what these music folks never seem to remember) Nijinsky’s groundbreaking choreography. Let me make it clear: what we had just witnessed was nothing compared to that, either in terms of the artistic innovation of the performance or the violance (pardon the spelling!) of the reactions, but it was as close as any of us had ever gotten to it and probably ever would.

We returned to the house for the second half, which featured Hank Dutt playing three pieces, the first a solo piece by Nils Bultmann inspired by Bach’s cello suites, the second a classical Hindustani composition by Ram Narayan, and the third, “Waiting” by Jeanrenaud, a multi-layered solo composition, originally written for cello, created using live looping. Eichenseer, to his credit, reappeared onstage to accompany Dutt in the Narayan piece, this time playing a droning tambura with Z on shruti box (something akin to a harmonium).

Z then did a mesmerizing solo performance using voice, samples, and MIDI processing. The finale was a group improvisation for voice, electronics, and violas with everyone except Eichenseer, who could not participate for obvious reasons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, everywhere I went friends were talking about the “Viola Riot.” The story got told and retold and I heard many versions from people who had not actually been there themselves. I started to record exclusively second-hand versions of the so-called “riot,” including, most notably, Brian Rosen’s account. Rosen, a composer himself, is responsible for coining the term “ViolaGate” in his blog piece about the incident he also calls a “mini-riot.”

A few days after Rosen’s post, which got a lot of attention in the music community, the New York Times picked up the story, calling it “an artistic melee more appropriate for a Metallica show.” In the Times’ story, Pamela Z is quoted making the comparison with The Rite of Spring premiere.

So, what is it about this minor kerfuffle that has ignited passions and sparked such controversy? And why is it that the incident, dramatic and upsetting as it was at the time, is so often described in hyperbolic terms? Some of these overwrought descriptions are clearly intended to be facetious, but some seem like they are meant to be taken seriously.

No doubt, part of what has attracted so much attention to the story is the identity of the old geezer, who, as it turns out, happens to be a well-known and respected eighty-five year-old violist, Bernard Zaslav. To get his side of the story, see the considerable comments section of Rosen’s post, where Zaslav alleges the “desecration” was to his sensitive hearing, and not to his aesthetic sensibility, which, by all accounts, is surprisingly forward-looking. For what it’s worth, I don’t buy it, and neither did a number of others who were also in attendance and witnessed the events first-hand.

Certainly, the high drama, the unexpectedness and (it must be said) childishness of Eichenseer’s response to Zaslav’s equally childish heckling makes for a great story. Even before the heckler’s identity was revealed, people were already talking and tweeting voluminously about the episode.

In one second-hand version of the story I recorded, the storyteller, a local composer, is interrupted at the point when Eichenseer has thrown his viola to the ground, breaking it “into a million pieces,” and is storming off stage.

“That sounds awesome!” another local musician/composer interjects.

“Yeah,” our storyteller continues, “It sounds fucking awesome!” They both wished they had been there to witness the drama for themselves.

In another version, the storyteller, also a local musician, has little sympathy for either party:

And then the viola motherfucker apparently, like, who doesn’t even—I heard he doesn’t even play viola, so that fact that he gets away with “out” music when he doesn’t even necessarily know how to play “in” music anymore is pretentious as fuck anyway. And so, because his artistic integrity was insulted so much by some old fucking beyotch, he broke his viola instead of giving it to somebody who would actually play it. Yeah, they can all kiss my fucking ass. That’s the version I heard.

It is curious to behold mythologies in the making.

With all the additions and exaggerations that inevitably come with subsequent retellings, combined with the many allusions to The Rite of Spring, I began to wonder how we distinguish myth from history, even after only a short amount of time has elapsed since the episode.

Then I began to wonder about the events of Paris, 1913. What in the accounts now familiar to us was fact and what was fiction? And how, almost 100 years later, might we ever pull those two apart?

According to music scholar, Richard Taruskin, author of “A Myth of the Twentieth Century: The Rite of Spring, the Tradition of the New, and ‘The Music Itself'”:

As early as the 1920s (the time, as I say, of the real “breaks”), Stravinsky was busily revising the history of The Rite and erasing its past. It was in 1920 that he first told an interviewer that the first inspiration for the ballet had been not a vision of its final dance (as he had previously stated) but a musical theme, and that consequently he had written “une oeuvre architectonique et non anecdotique” (an architectonic and not an anecdotal work).

Taruskin’s point is that this revisionist history, which many music scholars seem to follow without question, mistakenly relegates Nijinsky’s choreography, as well as the interdisciplinary conditions under which Stravinsky’s score was composed, to history’s backseat. We now know very little of Nijinsky’s original choreography for The Rite—it was lost, some say deliberately suppressed, after its last performance in 1914—though it was, disputably, “reconstructed” by Millicent Hodson in 1987 for the Joffrey Ballet.

Stravinsky’s score, on the other hand—”the music itself”—was, of course, preserved, though interestingly, the score was not published till 1921. Both extant score and lost choreography now have reputations of mythic proportions, due, in large part, to the ballet’s infamous opening night. But, according to Taruskin:

It took a long while for the score to achieve the awesome reputation we now assume it possessed from the beginning. In 1913 it was not the primary object of attention. The most cursory perusal of the Paris reviews of the original production, conveniently collected in Truman C. Bullard’s dissertation, reveals that it was the now-forgotten Nijinsky choreography, far more than Stravinsky’s music, that fomented the famous “riot” at the premiere. Many if not most reviews fail to deal with Stravinsky’s contribution at all beyond naming him as composer.

Indeed, the noise levels were so high in the Paris theater, the music was mostly inaudible. It is said that Nijinsky had to shout musical counts to his dancers from the wings, such was the racket in the theater.

It is ironic that Zaslav now claims it was not “the music itself” but the decibel level in the small theater in San Francisco that compelled him to so rudely disrupt Eichenseer’s performance. While I don’t doubt, as some apparently do, that noise levels contributed to his irascibility, it was obvious to all present that there was more to the story than this.

For Eichenseer, an unknown young composer catapulted from obscurity into the limelight, the results couldn’t be better. Like Stravinsky, the fact that his composition ultimately went unheard on its debut has not prevented him from receiving ample attention for it. On the contrary, it is precisely because his music ultimately went unheard that it has gained such notoriety. History, or mythology, whatever the difference is, will eventually reveal whether or not he will be known for anything more than this, his smashing debut.