Alternate Perlmen
by Chuck Rothman
I've seen Itzhak Perlman perform five times,
and each time was memorable in some way.
I enjoy classical music. I get it from my
grandfather, who played violin; as I was growing up, he was instrumental (pun)
in bringing classical musicians to perform in our community. It's a small town,
and they weren't exactly name musicians (it was a big deal when we had the
Buffalo Philharmonic), but it gave me a chance to listen to it.
I didn't like it. I grew up on Broadway
showtunes, and discovered rock in my teens. But classical was OK, but nothing
I'd go out of the way to listen to.
That changed as I got older. Part of that
was due to the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. SPAC, as it's called, is the
summer home of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and has ballet and rock shows all
summer long. Lawn passes are cheap (free for kids under 13). It's built on a
natural amphitheater, so you can even see what's going on (though it's quite a
distance away). You could also pack a picnic and spend an evening. We even
sprung for lawn passes a couple of years.
That's where I first hear Perlman play.
It also rekindled an interest in classical
music. I learned something important: no matter how old and clichéd a
classical piece is, when you hear it performed live by a first-class orchestra,
it's like it was new again. You may have heard the 1812 Overture 100 times, but
when it's done live -- with actual cannons -- you can see why people are still
performing it.
1. Saratoga Performing Arts Center, 1990
This was the type of performance that
legends are made of -- literally. Well, urban legends, at least.
Perlman was performing the Beethoven Violin
Concerto. We had lawn passes and were just enjoying the show when, in the
middle of the first movement, Perlman broke a string.
Yes, exactly the element that became the
basis of a well-known
urban
legend. The legend has him finishing the piece using only three strings --
something that just isn't possible.
What happened? Well, Perlman turned to the
concertmaster (i.e., first violinist) and politely asked to use his violin. He
took it, the orchestra started up, and Perlman completed the movement -- to an
ovation. Judging by the smooth way he turned, it gave me the impression that
this was standard operating procedure: borrow a violin while yours is being
restrung. At the end of the movement, an assistant brought Perlman's violin
back, and he completed the piece.
And although this isn't as dramatic as the
legend, it does show his brilliance. Every violin is slightly different, and
Perlman had to learn the quirks of the instrument on the fly in front of a few
thousand people. This is the sign of a great performer (or athlete, for that
matter) -- the ability to adapt quickly to changes.
2. Saratoga Performing Arts Center, 1995.
Perlman played the Beethoven Violin Concerto
again, but this time, my memory was attending.
At the time, we were members of the New York
State Museum in Albany (well worth the visit if you're in town), and they were
putting on the "Dinosaurs Alive!" show: mechanical dinosaurs that jerked around
and gave loud roars (probably from the actual recordings of dinosaurs). Loud,
and probably scary: my daughter Lisa was about six the first time she saw them,
and the noise scared her so much that when, some time later, we got sheets for
her with a dinosaur pattern, she was afraid it'd keep her up at night. This was
the second time around and, as member, we got a discount, so we visited.
At the end, as we left, there were discount
tickets to SPAC. A local supermarket allowed people to buy a ticket for $5
anywhere in the arena. We picked up a few.
Perlman was playing, so we decided to go.
We went to the box office and showed them the tickets, expecting to get some
seat in the back row, or maybe a lawn pass. Without a word, he handed us the
tickets.
They were for the front row of the balcony.
We wondered if there was some mistake.
These were $40 seats, after all. But no. And we realized there was method to
their madness: the supermarket had promised to pay the difference between the
$5 and the full cost of the ticket. So it was in the interest of SPAC to give
us the most expensive seat possible and get the most money from them.
When the usher led us to our box(!), we
laughed and told her we paid $5 for the seats. She immediately asked to see the
tickets.
The concert was great, especially since we
could see Perlman so much better than from the lawn.
Later, we went back to the "Dinosaurs
Alive!," rushed through it, and grabbed a few more tickets. We later went to
see the New York City Ballet from the 4th row, though watching the sweat flying
off the dancers (and nearly hitting us) on a hot summer night was somewhat
unappetizing.
We looked, but the supermarket never made
that offer again.
3. Perlman Music Program 2001
Perlman stopped appearing at SPAC quite as
often, partly because he had moved on to a new project:
The Perlman Music Program.. He
and his wife Toby started this to give teenaged musicians a chance to learn
under Perlman and other professionals. Toby handles the management, while
Perlman teaches.
The Program was set up on Shelter Island,
New York. Shelter Island is easy to find: look at
a map of
eastern Long Island. You'll see the North Fork (including Southold, where I
grew up). You'll see the South Fork (where the Hamptons are). In between is
Shelter Island. It's quite pretty, partly a summer retreat like the Hamptons,
but quieter and more laid back. Perlman bought an old summer camp there and
started the program. It's about a half hour from my parent's house (counting
the ferry ride) or ten minutes by boat, and my father likes to spend summer
evenings traveling over there for the music.
You see, the kids there need a chance to
perform, and so every night there is some sort of performance. Some are by
individuals. Some are by quartets or even the entire orchestra. The kids there
are very proficient (they need to audition to be accepted), so it's more like
hearing a professional orchestra and your local school band.
In the early years, Shelter Islanders were
suspicious of having the people in their midst, afraid Perlman would draw big
crowds. He was prohibited for charging for the concerts (except for one event,
the yearly Gala). He was also prohibited for advertising the concerts.
Each summer, I go down to Southold to visit
my parents for a few days. The first year of the program, my father had begun
to go over and listen to the music. We were there on a Friday, and after the
performance, Toby came out. "Tomorrow is a very special concert," she said.
"Only I can't tell you who will perform."
Not obvious, was it?
So we were there the next day. Sure enough,
Perlman joined with the teachers to perform string quintets by Brahms and
Dvorak. I had never heard these, but the Dvorak impressed me so much that I
bought a recording of it, and it has become a favorite of mine.
But what also sticks in my mind was what
happened when there was a problem. Just before the quintet was about to go on
for the Dvorak, a problem arose: one of the musician couldn't find his music.
So Perlman took the stage.
He didn't perform; he told jokes.
Now, Perlman's jokes are pathetic -- the
type of joke that no one about a third grader would consider funny. ("They dug
up Beethoven's grave and discovered him erasing all his music. 'What are you
doing?' 'Decomposing.') I really think these were the worst jokes I'd ever
heard.
He had us in stitches. His delivery was
just plain funny, and he was having so much fun telling the jokes that you
laughed as soon as you heard the punch line. It wasn't until afterwards that
you realized, "that's a pretty dumb joke." There was just something about the
warmth and joy with which he told them that connected on a personal level so
that the entire audience was happy to laugh at them.
If he didn't have music, he could have made
a great comedian.
4. Perlman Music Program 2002
The next year, I also went to the "special"
presentation at the school, but in a different way.
Perlman's daughter Leora also has something
of a musical career: with her partner, Meredith Greenberg, they have performed
as opera singers (and also ran a catering business). This show was their baby:
a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado.
Now the Perlman program is for
instrumentalists, not singers. They do have some singing classes, but as a break
from the classes in the strings. (Not that they aren't talented: in 2004, we
were treated to an a capella version of Rossini's Overture from The Barber of
Seville that was absolutely spectacular. Yes, I know it has no words, but
they used nonsense syllables that were absolutely perfect; if you know the
piece, you'll know where doodlely doodlely doodlely doodlely do fits in. Just
amazing.)
The kids were the chorus, and the leads were
played by Greenberg, Leora Perlman, and some of the teachers (there may have
also been one of the students). In the program, the name of the Mikado was
something like "The Big Guy."
You guessed it. When it came time for the
Mikado to enter, Perlman came in, riding his scooter, dressed in costume. He
had a large book on his lap and sang the part, reading the lyrics from the
book. The same warmth that made his jokes so funny still came across and the
total effect was delightful. And he wasn't a bad singer, either.
So he also has his singing to fall back on.
5. Perlman Music Program 2003
When we went over, there wasn't a concert.
Instead, it was an open rehearsal, the orchestra getting ready for the final
performance of the season. Perlman was conducting, and also teaching, as they
worked their way through A Simple Symphony by Benjamin Britten.
At one point, Perlman stopped the
orchestra. He then called out the names of three students and had them play the
passage.
They did.
Next, he called three more students and had
them do the same thing.
Finally, he called on three different
students to play the same passage.
When they were done, Perlman said, "You
see? When you are playing with the entire group, you tend to play with less
authority, letting the others fill in for you. But when you play alone, you
work harder to stand out. I want you all to play as though you are playing
alone."
The orchestra sounded much better after
that.
So he can always fall back on conducting and
teaching (even more) 8/14/05 |