I never really kept track, but I’m probably in the top 12 to 15-percent of readers, according to the data compiled for the survey that forms the basis of this article in The Washington Post. In the kingdom of the blind (allegedly 46-percent of Americans don’t even read one book a year), the man with one eye is king! I used to read a lot more before I had home internet access. I cram all of my books into one room, or at least the ones I’ve kept, if you don’t count the storage space that’s full of left-over inventory from my book business. I’m willing to part with all of the latter, save perhaps the vintage children’s books, but I wound up moving in such a hurry, I’d have to sort out the personal stuff that got mixed into the boxes first. I should definitely put that at the head of my New Year’s resolutions – especially since I haven’t made any!
Of course, I haven’t read every book I own. My ambition will always outstrip my ability, and there’s no point in having a library if there aren’t a fair number of volumes you can draw from on a rainy day.
Sadly, a lot of the once-coveted reference books are now superfluous, but I can’t bear to think of anyone tossing them in a dumpster. Some of them will have to be pried from my cold, dead hands.
At variance with the data concerning readers in my percentage group, I do not do e-books.
I first encountered Robert Moran’s music while browsing through the bins at Tower Records Classical Annex, then located at 6th & South Streets in Philadelphia. As was the custom, new recordings would be played over the sound system on the sales floor. On this particular occasion, one of the clerks put on “Arias, Interludes and Inventions,” a suite from the opera “Desert of Roses,” Bob’s take on the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale, premiered at Houston Grand Opera in 1992. Before I was wholly aware of what was happening, my heart had melted all over the polished hardwood floor. I floated to the counter to inquire what it was we were listening to, and an instant sale was made.
I first encountered Robert Moran in person a few years later, when he wandered into my original bookshop on South 17th Street. I didn’t recognize who he was until he handed me his credit card. “Robert Moran?” I said. “Any relation to the composer?” That kind of question has led to its share of enduring friendships. It turns out people like being recognized. (The exception was a certain principal of the Philadelphia Orchestra, who slinked out as soon as he could, never to return again!)
Although a small business owner, with all of the nightmarish zoning and tax obligations that entailed, I was also still very much a bohemian, with my living space extending off the back of the building, all German Expressionist-like, at the end of a long, crooked hallway, separated from the sales floor only by a magic curtain. On certain winter afternoons, you could smell the crock pot percolating in the kitchenette, not far from a mass of black mold that had formed around one of the many leaks in the stucco ceiling. (No stucco in the immaculately redone retail space.)
My record collection, already substantial, was rather modest by comparison to today’s library (which continues to expand with a tenacity any mold would envy). I laid my hand on Bob’s CD and was back in a flash.
He took the booklet and inscribed in his florid hand:
For Ross –
What a lovely
Surprise!! Wonderful
Luck – your
splendid Bookstore –
Robert Moran
Oct. 15, 1997
Phila
Bob gained notoriety in the late 1960s and early ‘70s through a series of “events” incorporating, respectively, the cities of San Francisco (“39 Minutes for 39 Autos”), Bethlehem, PA (“Hallelujah”), and Graz, Austria (“Pachelbel Promenade”). These involved tens of thousands of performers.
For “39 minutes for 39 Autos,” he enlisted skyscrapers, airplanes, radio stations, musicians, dancers, and yes, automobiles, to create a one-of-a-kind, purely-of-the-moment spectacular of light and sound. Sooner or later, such a thing was bound to occur to a composer living in San Francisco in 1969.
But he actually could could write music, too. Classical music’s merry prankster studied twelve-tone technique with Hans Erich Apostel in Vienna, before being accepted into a composition class of four at Mills College, where he was taught by Darius Milhaud and Luciano Berio. His classmates included Steve Reich, Phil Lesh, and Tom Constanten. Lesh and Constanten went on to play for The Grateful Dead. And Reich? Who knows what happened to that guy.
Bob was also influenced by Minimalism and became a friend and collaborator of Philip Glass. (On my wall is a signed poster for their collaborative opera “The Juniper Tree.”)
Last year, he composed a monodrama for God – yes, you read that correctly (in case you’re interested, God is a baritone) – and a 20-minute choral work, “Circles of Iron.”
He continues to experiment with aleatory, or chance elements. With Robert Moran, you never know what you’re going to get. In his more puckish moments, he might write for 39 autos, giant puppets, or an electric popcorn popper. But then there are times when his natural gift for lyricism will melt your heart.
Happy birthday, Bob! Let Bob eat cake!
Lo and behold, Robert Moran is the subject of today’s Composers Datebook, broadcast on classical music stations nationwide. Listen here.
I’m a little late to the table for this one, but I just learned that Frank Kaderabek has died. For me, Kaderabek was a familiar presence from his twenty years as principal trumpet of the Philadelphia Orchestra. But it turns out it was but the crown on an estimable career as an orchestra musician. No doubt he was burnished in the raging fiery furnace of Fritz Reiner’s Chicago Symphony, with its legendary brass section, but he also held positions with the Dallas and Detroit Symphony Orchestras. This may be old news to some, but it’s all new to me. All I know is that Kaderabek was one of the Philly all-stars who played under Ormandy and who made my weekly sojourns to the Academy of Music in the 1980s and ‘90s so rewarding.
Kaderabek died on December 28 at the age of 94. His recordings will live on.
A very informative and satisfying obituary at the link. It really gives a sense of a life well lived.
I may be wrong about this, and please correct me if I am, but I believe he’s playing shoulder-to-shoulder here with some legendary brass players of Reiner’s Chicago Symphony – under guest conductor Paul Hindemith!
With the holidays now largely in the rear-view mirror, it’s a good time to curl up and catch up on your winter reading.
This morning on “Sweetness and Light,” it’s all about books, with light music classics inspired by “Vanity Fair,” “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” “Don Quixote,” “The Leopard,” “Oliver Twist,” and “Tales of Hoffmann.”
I hope you’ll join me for some “light” reading, on “Sweetness and Light,” music calculated to charm and to cheer, this Saturday morning on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon.
The show will air at 8:00 Pacific Time, but you can stream it on the East Coast at 11:00 when following the link.
