The Usual Suspects

Many years ago, San Francisco Performances put on a series of morning concerts which I attended. The Alexander String Quartet would play one or two of Shostakovich's string quartets (or sometimes, with guests, another of his chamber works), preceded by a lecture on (theoretically) that part of Shostakovich's career and those particular works, by music historian Robert Greenberg. It took three years to go through the entirety of the subject, but I went to them all and increased my familiarity with the repertoire.

But though this successful series was followed by many more with the same personnel on other composers, I didn't go to any more. After three years, I'd had enough of Greenberg's mannered, detail-clogged, and over-interpretive lecturing style, and I wasn't fond enough of the Alexander Quartet to overcome this.

But now things have changed. The Alexanders have hung up their bows, and the Esmé Quartet, of which I'm very fond indeed, is replacing them. This year's series is four concerts - that's not too many - on the major quartets (and quintet) of Schubert's, and yesterday was the first. They're not going in chronological order: this week's piece was the "Death and the Maiden" Quartet. Greenberg's lecture was as mannered and detail-clogged as ever, but at least the interpretation made sense. This work, he said, is haunted by death, which is why Schubert quoted from his song on the subject - not to recycle material (Schubert hardly needed to do that) but to convey meaning. But, Greenberg said, the finale is not a dance of death as many claim, but offers consolation and acceptance, as does Death in the last verse of the song.

The Esmé sat on stage during all of this, playing excerpts of the quartet for illustrative points. Then, after intermission, they played the whole work. It was not as violently intense as some do it, but this meant the lighter third and fourth movements were as satisfactory as the larger, darker first two. The sound was crisp and slightly metallic. The players added expression with pauses and dips in intensity. It was gratifying to hear.

I occupied mid-day with a quest I may tell you about later, and then landed in Walnut Creek for the evening with the season's first concert by the California Symphony. This was a program of pops classics, a framing confirmed by conductor Donato Cabrera's increasing tendency to yammer from the podium. Gershwin's An American in Paris had colorful enough tone color, but the tenor of the piece was dull after SFS's magnificent show last week. To be fair, this is how the work usually sounds to me. Ravel's Boléro worked better, and his orchestration of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition was marred only by the tendency of some of the wind soloists to swallow their phrases.

From Scott Fogelsong's pre-concert lecture I learned something about the Ravel Pictures I hadn't known. The orchestration was commissioned by Boston Symphony music director Serge Koussevitsky, who kept exclusive performing rights for his lifetime, despite clamors by others to play it. Which explains something I'd wondered: why there are so many other orchestrations of Pictures, and why most of them sound just like Ravel's.

I'm trying to catch up with light bulbs. Once there were incandescent bulbs, which looked like this:

Then we were all encouraged to abandon them and take up LED bulbs, which initially looked sort of like this:

This took some getting used to, but I did.
But then I was just in the hardware store looking, for the first time in a while, for new bulbs, and found that now the LED bulbs are the same shape as the old incandescent bulbs, just with different insides. They look rather like this:

These are the right ones, right? I'm just trying to catch up here.

1) placing this week's pickup grocery order on the store's website

and

2) listening to a lecture on Zoom sponsored by the local public library.

The lecture is by a comp sci prof named Dr. Shaolei Ren, and is on the environmental impacts of AI servers. Which appear to be gargantuan. So much so that Dr. Ren had to keep saying he's not anti-AI, he just thinks we should have a clear-eyed view of their impact. So: gobbling up more water than the rest of the county combined, and spewing carcinogenic air pollutants across borders. Be particularly careful if you're downwind of Loudoun County, Virginia, which seems to be the AI server capital of the country. Downwind of it is Montgomery County, Maryland.

Laura Benanti: Nobody Cares, Berkeley Rep

Hour-long one-woman show, sort of, by the musical theater star and Melania Trump impersonator. Mostly spoken, but with songs inserted: not greatest hits, but purpose-written songs expanding on what she's been talking about, co-written with her musical director and pianist Todd Almond, accompanied also by bass and drum kit.

It's one of those wryly amusing sample of life things. Her theme is that she's overly anxious to please people (including us, the audience), going back to her earliest days in the theater, where she specialized in being an ingenue. (Definition by examples: "Disney princesses, Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde, Timothée Chalamet.") Also why, since premiering at 18, she's never been for any length of time without a boyfriend or husband, some of whom sound pretty awful in her telling. (Song about, Are there any good men out there?) She's been married three times, which she seems to consider a blot on her escutcheon. So did the clerk at the marriage license bureau, who - in an amusing story Benanti tells - wasn't sure whether the fiancé at her third marriage knew that she'd been married twice before.

Anyway, her third husband, whom she's been married to for ten years now (she's 45), seems to be the satisfactory one, and they have two little girls, so she segues into talking about motherhood, covering everything from overcoming your taught aversion to bottle-feeding when it turns out you can't breastfeed (the baby thought the bottle was great, but not the strangers who would see it and come up and say, "You should try breastfeeding") to answering smart-alec remarks from precocious kindergarteners. (Song on the theme "Mama's a liar" - she's trying to reassure her children and hide how broken the world is.)

Last topic, perimenopause. Oh boy. After which, she says, you become a crone and turn invisible. (As in, people don't notice that you're there.) "Well," she says, "I refuse to be invisible."

I saw Benanti play Liza in My Fair Lady at Lincoln Center in NYC six years ago, and I've seen her talk about some of these things in online concerts. So I was a good candidate for this and enjoyed it.