Tuesday, December 1, 2020

The NFL and the Sunk Cost Fallacy


A little business / sports crossover.  As many of you know I’m a die-hard Philadelphia Eagles fan.  For the past several years I had been the house game-day stadium organist at a Southern California Eagles bar (pre-COVID, of course).  This year Eagles Quarterback Carson Wentz has gone from top-tier to league-bottom in most statistical categories among NFL starting quarterbacks. This history of salvaging the career of an NFL quarterback in such a deep descent is not promising. All of the press about Carson Wentz highlights how the Eagles will be forced to play him through this year and all of next year because he signed a four year $128 million extension last year.  The “dead cap” hit of cutting him next year would be $69 million.

Now the business part.  Most of you are very aware of the Sunk Cost Fallacy.  Put simply, money spent previously - wisely or unwisely – was yesterday’s decision.  Today’s decisions should be based solely on what has the best chance of success going forward, irregardless of previous unrecoverable costs.  

The Sunk Cost Fallacy is not new, and it is not tightly-held wisdom. It has been taught to freshman business school students ever since there have been business schools. Most NFL owners are billionaires several times over. Most of them went to business school, and those that didn’t would probably not have become successful if the Sunk Cost Fallacy were a completely foreign concept.  Yet it is amazing how many NFL owners forget the business sense that put them in the position to buy an NFL team once they start running their teams.

Carson Wentz will be paid roughly $25 million a year for at least the next two years whether the Eagles play him or not. This year he is either the worst or second-worst non-injured NFL starting QB along with Sam Darnold of the winless New York Jets. If any other team could have Carson Wentz for free next week, would they play him over their current starter?  If the answer is no, then the Eagles shouldn’t consider him a competitive starter either.  Clearly the contract extension was an ex-post mistake, but is that enough of a reason to lock in such a clear competitive disadvantage going forward?  If you read the popular press, the Eagles are “locked in” and “have no choice” in 2021.  And apparently Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie forgets everything he learned in school and in life as soon as he puts on his Eagles hat.

Here’s a positive example of enlightened “sunk cost” thinking in the NFL.  In May of 2012 the Seattle Seahawks signed Quarterback Matt Flynn to a $26MM three year contract - very big money at the time -  after his short successful stint in Green Bay filling in for an injured Aaron Rodgers.  Once training camp started, Seattle Coach Pete Carroll noticed that his rookie third-round (75th overall) draft pick QB was outplaying Flynn significantly. The rookie was awarded the job and Flynn never started a game for the Seahawks.  The rookie was Russell Wilson, who has led the Seahawks to two Superbowl appearances, winning one and coming within one very questionable play call by his head coach from winning the other.  Pete Carroll may have lost that second Superbowl by deciding against handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch from the 1 yard line, but he reached two Superbowls because he had the wisdom to eat the $26MM Matt Flynn contract and start Russell Wilson.  Carroll is still reaping the benefits of his decision eight years later with no apparent end in sight.


Monday, February 24, 2020

A Tale of Two Pollini's

I just listened to the new Pollini Op. 109-111. I find it markedly and puzzlingly inferior to his earlier recording.  One would think a priori if this were the case that my main reason for disappointment might be due to a deterioration of Pollini’s technique or mechanism, most likely manifesting in a lack of fluidity or a significant slowing of tempi rather than actual wrong notes.  This is not the case at all. The new recordings are dramatically inferior from a musical perspective.

There are two specific dimensions where I hear this manifest.  The first is in alarming lack of dynamic nuance, especially played side-by-side against his 1970’s recording.  Listen to the beginning of the fugue in Op.110.  The score calls for a slow and gradual increase in volume until a full ff is achieved as the break in the fugue is reached.  There are many diminuendos and crescendos along the way, but the dynamic arch of this section is clear and well-defined.  Most major interpreters from Schnabel through Levit play it this way, as did Pollini in 1977.  In the new recording his crescendo lasts only a handful of measures.  If he were the student in a master class the instructor would cut him off at that point and ask, “Where are you going?  You’ve left yourself nowhere to go.”   This is a recurring theme throughout the entire recording.  There is not nearly enough dynamic contrast, dynamic subtlety, adherence to the dynamics of the score, effective use of dynamics within and across phrases, or a concept of dynamics consistent with Beethoven’s compositional style. And it’s not just “wrong” in the concept of Op. 110 in specific or Beethoven in general.  It’s simply not musical.

My other major complaint has to do with  interpretation, structure, and conception. Beethoven’s script for Op. 110 is fairly straightforward. He notates the score carefully and he doesn’t make his narrative obscure or oblique. There is a story to be told.  The performer’s challenge is to balance the fact that he already knows the beginning, middle, and end of the story (as does much of the audience), but he also must convey a feeling of presence in the moment as the story plays out sequentially yet without losing track of the whole.  Schnabel in particular was a master of this, but most of the great Beethoven interpreters have found a way to achieve this balance.  And none of this precludes adding elements of personal interpretation, just as an actor reading a monologue would incorporate their unique voice. 

To my ears, Pollini’s new recordings make no effort to convey an unfolding of narrative. There is no journey, repose, wonder, or discovery.  There cannot be arrival without a journey and there is no journey.  We arrive too quickly, without any reflection, wonder, or curiosity.  We seem to always be at the end yet we never begin.  Again, what’s so curious is how this was most definitely not the case in his earlier recordings.  As musicians age, their musicianship usually deepens rather than diminishes. The means of execution are what often falls away.   The musically-enlightened cherish these mature recordings as we overlook the surface imperfections for the nuggets of musical wisdom. Here we appear to have the opposite – an elderly pianist who can still use his fingers masterfully but has either forgotten how or has lost his desire to play music.  I find it baffling and sad.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Bernstein Rescues the Ravel Piano Concerto



I love discovering recordings I've owned for a while but have never actually listened to. I was in my car yesterday stuck in traffic and decided to listen to Leonard Bernstein's recording of the Ravel Piano Concerto (New York Philharmonic / Bernstein conductor and soloist). Years ago I bought a 3 CD Sony set featuring Bernstein at the keyboard but I never got around to listening to the Ravel because as some of you know all too well Ravel and I don't mix.

I've always had a specific problem with the Ravel G major concerto. Gershwin famously traveled to Paris to study with Ravel in the late 1920's and Ravel turned him away. The famous anecdote is that Ravel asked Gershwin how much money he made the prior year on his Broadway shows, and when he replied Ravel answered, “Maybe instead I should study from you.” At least Gershwin got “An American in Paris” out of the trip. In any case, Ravel turned around two years later and wrote his own version of a jazz-inspired (Gershwin-inspired?) piano concerto without any of the true feel for the idiom that Gershwin had in his bones.

And this is precisely what makes this recording so interesting. This is by far the jazziest interpretation of the Ravel G Major I've heard. I don't mean that Bernstein “jazzes it up” in the sense that he interjects jazz where it doesn't belong, but Bernstein executes the jazz idiom from a position of strength that few classical artists (save perhaps Andre Previn and a small handful of others) are in a position to do. This is a revelatory and yields a truly convincing interpretation. It may not be the only way to approach this piece, but in the moment you believe that it is. Bernstein the conductor is also the perfect foil for Bernstein the soloist. His execution of rhythms and his imposition of jazz inflections, particularly in the wind parts (which knowing Bernstein may actually have been in the score all along) completely changes my perception of the piece and IMHO for the better.

The recording is available on Amazon Marketplace on CD in two different incarnations. The version I have is entitled “Leonard Bernstein: A Portrait” which features him as piano soloist in Beethoven Piano Concerto No. 1, Mozart Piano Concerto No. 25 K.503, Shostakovich Piano Concerto #2, Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue, this Ravel G Major Concerto, the Mozart g minor Piano Quartet K.493, and the Schumann Piano Quintet.  The Ravel is also available on a single Sony CD coupled with 16-year-old Andre Watts in Liszt PC #1, and Gary Graffman in Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. It also can be found in its original vinyl incarnation couple with the Shostakovich PC #2. Strongly recommended.



Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Greece – Who's At Fault?

What I've read about Greece in both the mainstream media and social media has left me feeling frustrated. Much of it is written from a dug-in perspective of who is more  at fault – Greece, or Germany? This is far too simplistic of a dichotomy. I've also read a number of conspiracy theories involving the EU, the IMF, and the other usual suspects. I normally shy away from writing about national or global political issues, but I decided to make an exception as the core issues are more economic than ideological.  It also helps me process my frustrations caused by all of the misunderstanding, half-understandings, and misinformation being spread about.

Background – the Greek Economy prior to 2001

Many countries have their own preferred ways of doing things. They come with pro's and con's that look strange to those outside their borders, but this is a universal truth. Many Americans look askance at Spaniards for their afternoon siestas, and many Spaniards in turn think Americans are soulless workaholics. The modern Greeks have had an idiosyncratic way of dealing with taxes: for the most part they don't pay them.

How does a government survive if their expenditures chronically exceed their tax revenues? By printing money to cover the gap, which is exactly what Greece did when they had their own currency (the Drachma) prior to 2002. Printing money in such a manner creates inflation, which has also been referred to as the “invisible tax.” Real wages and savings accounts are correspondingly reduced, and interest rates and exchange rates are adjusted accordingly. Isn't this worse than just taxing the populace? Most other developed economies seem to think so. Earlier in the century John Maynard Keynes theorized that inflation didn't have to be an economic negative if it were just a universal shifting of a “numeraire” (think decimal point). Real world experience has repeatedly proven otherwise. Inflation (and expectations of inflation) reduce investment and capital formation, which in turn reduce job creation, real wages, and personal income, which in turn reduces GDP and general welfare. This makes intuitive sense, and anyone who remembers the U.S. economy of the late 1970's and early 1980's doesn't need much proof beyond that. Counties are better off in the long run if they balance their budgets without printing more money to do so.

Prior to joining the EU, the Greeks were perennial inflators. The Drachma drifted ever downward, sometimes in a particularly abrupt fashion around political events and other periods of high drama. But at least this worked after a fashion until Greece could no longer print its own money.

Enter the EU

The European technocrat class which essentially runs the governments of Europe have been floating the notion of a European Union since the end of the Second World War. As the United States of America gained world ascendency as an economic power in the first half of the 20th century, it was natural for Europe to consider emulating its success. European leaders saw some of the necessary components to emulate this success as:

  • The creation of a single currency;
  • The removal of intra-European tariffs and borders;
  • Allowing citizens of any country in the union to travel, move, or work in another.
These technocrats were right in the sense that all of these factors would improve the economies of most if not all members of the union and in turn vastly increase the economic output (measured by GDP) of the whole. What they did not take into account is that economic union is not truly feasible without political union. Americans discovered this truth with their own failed attempt to create The United States of America Version 1.0, otherwise known as the Article of Confederation. This union avoided the issues posed by federal government (e.g. how to keep both Massachusetts and Virginia happy? How to balance states' rights and federal powers?) by essentially not creating a credible federal government at all. They skirted these issues and failed, and the EU seems to have made a similar choice in creating EU Version 1.0.  United States Version 2.0 defined a creditable Federal government within the context of semiautonomous states.  Europe most likely faces a similar inflection point in its future. 

The economic essence of a Federal government isn't just to print money per se – it's to determine jointly how to spend it. An economic union can only have one currency, and that's one of its major benefits. But with that, the entire union can only have a single monetary policy: individual states and/or countries can't print their own money. This also mandates that the union must agree on a single fiscal policy (e.g. taxes and expenditures) at a federal level. This is where things got dicey, and arguably unsustainable, in Europe.

The core of the problem is that fiscal union implies true political union, which 1000 plus years of European history demonstrates that Europeans most definitely do not want. Germans, Italians, French, Spaniards, and Greeks do not share core political values. They don't envision their governments running the same way, and this goes way beyond the differences Americans experience among their State governments. Our states cannot print their own money so they are required to run balanced budgets. They can borrow to a limited extent, but the debt markets and the states' citizens limit the scope of deficits an individual states can run for how long. Since there is a single currency, these is only one inflation rate for all 50 states. The level of inflation is determined on a national basis, so it cannot be used as a policy variable to bail out any given state from its budgetary issues.

The technocrats realized the physics of this problem and tried to address these issues mechanically. In the five years leading up to the EU, individual countries were required to meet fiscal goals and thresholds (inflation, budget deficits levels, etc) as they synced up and joined hands. This was to prevent any one state or economy from experiencing too much economic shock if the Union differed too much from what came first. The idea was that the Germans had to accept slightly more inflation than they wanted to, while the Italians, the Spaniards, and – yes – the Greeks – had to tighten up their budgets to accept less. During this “ramp up” period allowances were made for what was felt to be the common good. Also, numbers were fudged and books were cooked all in the name of the greater good, and the details would be dealt with later. After all, the reasoning went, the size of the weaker economies was so much smaller in aggregate than the stronger economies that the anticipated wealth gains of forming the union may more than subsidize the various shortfalls of the poorer countries.

So from the outset the braintrust behind the European Union anticipated that Spain, Portugal, and Greece, to name but three countries, would have struggles. This was ok and not necessarily symptomatic of failure, just as Mississippi and Arkansas being poorer, than say California or Texas doesn't signal a failure of the U.S. model. The most important problems that emerged stemmed from the fact that the European countries were pretending they didn't need to get married even though they moved into the same house and merged checking accounts.

The problems weren't just among rich and poor. Germany, France, and Italy have very different ideas of how their countries should be run. Germany favors near-zero inflation, high savings rates, and balanced budgets. Italian government is almost an oxymoron. Prior to the EU it was a controlled cycle of continual collapse, featuring higher inflation, occasional currency devaluations (nature's periodic way of dealing with a government's denial of fiscal reality), frequent labor battles, lax work rules, etc. France was somewhere in between. Actually, the French economy was far stronger but the French also saw no reason to run zero deficits when they could essentially free-ride off of Germany's uber-conservatism given the opportunity. Yearly budget cycles were filled with accusations, apologies, and allowances by the respective governments. Germany realized it had to accept a tradeoff. Yes, they were being taken advantage of to a certain degree by the other EU members (both strong and weak), but they were effectively kings of a much larger kingdom than they would be on their own. There was also nothing inappropriate in the notion of the richer countries subsidizing the poorer countries in the interest of the whole, as this is what all countries do within their borders in dealing with their “poorer relations.” Yes, Spain and Portugal were poor, but their labor force, natural resources, etc contributed to the welfare of the whole. This disparity in of itself, nor the resulting chronic deficits of the poorer countries did not create a crisis per se, at least initially.

So What Happened?

Greek fiscal policy was markedly different from that of other poorer EU countries pre-union. While Spain and Portugal were similarly poor, their countries collected a respectable amount of tax revenue given their levels of economic output. Once the EU was formed, nothing about Greek culture magically changed, faked metrics pre-2002 notwithstanding. Greece was running its “normal” budget deficits only they could no longer print money to cover the balance. What to do?

They had two options. First, they could beg the EU for charity, and they did so. This was not a terribly promising avenue for several reasons. First, since the EU did not have a real federal government, there was little or no federal budget, taxing authority, etc. The EU could print money, but only under a tightly controlled regimen decided by all. Germany had a very strong say in the vote and Germany simply hates inflation of any kind for any reason. So there really wasn't much official monetary or fiscal mechanism to provide continual charity on a scale that would solve Greece's annual budgetary problems.

The other answer was for Greece to borrow. Here's where the real trouble started. In an ideal world, Greece's borrowing capacity should have been limited by their overall creditworthiness. If an borrower starts to borrow more and more, their ability to find new lenders should diminish. Lenders need to believe there's a decent chance of getting paid back, and they understand how to underwrite properly or they'll fail. Underwriting involves fully understanding the balance sheet (i.e. current state of assets and existing loans), and income statement (i.e. budgets - tax revenues vs expenditures, this year and ongoing). After a point too much borrowing should have been a red flag which cut Greece off from future lenders.

So how did this not happen sooner? Four reasons:

  1. The power of sovereignty. Sovereign (government) debt is its own category. I won't go into the full history, but governments are generally considered to be excellent credit risks. Even still, entities within the countries (e.g. states within the US) are credit-rated just like private companies because they cannot print their own money. If they borrow too much relative to their ability to tax, their credit rating goes down and their debt becomes lower quality – degraded sometimes to junk. The interest rate these entities have to pay goes higher and higher until finally they can't borrow anymore at any price. At a certain point, the markets should cut off even sovereign nations or states;
  2. Strength of Currency. When Greece was outside the EU, their debt was issued in Drachmas. This scared lenders off even more, because everyone knew the government could (and often did) devalue the currency and reduce what they had to pay back. Now that Greece was in the EU, this risk was taken off the table. Debt denominated in a strong currency (Euros) had a much richer and deeper market.
  3. Implied Guarantee. Greece was now part of the EU. Would the EU allow a member nation to default? The results could be catastrophic so surely the stronger countries – which were SO much bigger than Greece – would step in. Since the size of the economy of the EU is roughly similar to that of the US and the size of the Greek economy is about the size of the city of Miami, this seemed like a “no brainer” from an investor's (i.e. lender's) perspective;
  4. Derivatives which shield transparency. Several investment banks – most famously Goldman Sachs – devised ways to issue derivatives which provided funds to Greece yet made it difficult for all of the lenders involved to see the true amount they were lending in aggregate.

How should Item 4 be possible? An entire book could be written on this subject, but suffice it to say that a great deal of the world's investment funds were (and still are, unfortunately) managed relatively robotically by people who don't understand nearly as much as they should. Many of the professionals investing for banks, governments, mutual funds, and large institutions are constrained by fairly basic rules concerning:

  • Who the issuers are and what they're rated by the major rating agencies (e.g. S&P, Moody's, Fitch). Sovereign debt often has it's own categories. Prior to 2008, many of the countries in the EU were automatically placed in or among the highest categories without qualification;
  • What currency the debt is denominated in? Greece issued debt in Euros. Strong currency – check!
  • What the maturity of the debt is (i.e. how many years do the loan go out?). There was nothing unusual or alarming about the Greek debt maturities/schedules.
  • What is the interest rate? The higher the interest rate in a given credit bucket, the more attractive a given bond looked. Greek debt was in a fairly high credit bucket – right until it wasn't – yet the interest rates were very attractive relative to other EU countries. This attracted even more willing investors.

Investor groups often act as a herd. If one major European bank accepts the risk of Greek debt, then it is easier for the rest to follow suit. The more who do so, the easier it gets. If everyone is wrong, then nobody is wrong and no one entity can be blamed . European institutional investors decided as a group that they were comfortable with Greek debt.

In 2008 as the world economy teetered on the brink of collapse, European commercial banks were suddenly made aware that the total amount of Greek debt outstanding was many, many orders of magnitude greater than any of them had realized thanks to the magic of Goldman's derivatives. The recommended course of action when a bank or any other entity is the subject of fraud (which this de facto was from their perspective) would be to write off the debt and move on, only they couldn't do so. Since they had categorized this debt as “among the highest grade”, the prospect of it becoming immediately worthless – on top of all of their other losses and demands – became life-threatening.  The EU and other world governments got involved because the prospect of this Miami-sized economy defaulting was suddenly transformed into a global systemic risk. This was not so dissimilar to the concept of a gaggle of subprime U.S. borrowers bringing down the global economy, which nearly happened at about the same time.

The lenders patched together a temporary solution:
  • The EU would print money, grant aid, and roll over the debt;
  • Nobody would call in their debts;
  • The global banking community would continue to treat these assets as higher-quality current-pay performing debt - even though it most certainly wasn't anything of the kind - so no individual entity would be forced to incur capital-draining write-downs.
The latter was extremely important because had they not done so, a number of major European banks, and perhaps some government central banks, would reach critical capital levels which could trigger all sorts of events – default, shut-down, liquidation, etc.

Over the next several years, the various authorities worked to deleverage the problem. Much of this toxic debt was transferred in one way or another from private institutions to public ones, and to stronger, well-capitalized public ones. At this point if Greece defaults it is very unlikely to trigger a global financial meltdown.

So What Now?


Here's where my narrative may veer somewhat toward opinion, but that is inescapable.

The word “austerity” is continually evoked as if it is a binary concept. Greece must either tighten its belt, balance its budget by limiting spending and collecting taxes, and then in turn make good every dollar of obligation it borrowed; or, Greece must shed the shackles of the bankers who enslaved it and boldly move forward to seize its destiny. Both positions are more rhetorical than practical.

I think it makes sense to start at the root of the problem and understand how we got here. At its core Greek citizens have a dysfunctional way of (not) funding the level of government services it desires. I'll start by positing the notion that all economic problems are easier when there is more money to go around. Staying in the EU creates a far wealthier Greece than one who reissues the Drachma and attempts to go it alone. So a compromise could be crafted along the following terms:

  • Greece should (mostly) pays its way forward. I placed the word “mostly” in parenthesis, because this should be in the same sense that Mississippi or Louisiana “mostly” pay their own way. They collect taxes and do not run chronic state deficits, but they receive more resources from the Federal Government in aggregate than they put in, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Greece should receive some form of base subsidy from the EU, but it should be some manageable percentage of its GDP, tax base, or whatever set of metrics make sense – far, far below current levels. A line has to be drawn from this point forward. The old ways of chronically not paying for government services have to end. That being said, Greece should not be made strictly “pay as you go” as this will create a vastly poorer, and far less stable Greece which is no one's best interest within or outside of its borders.
  • The mountain of bad debt that was created as a result of a collective regional and global failure. Greece should not (and cannot) bear this alone. By my calculation, Greek debt is trading at approximately 70 cents on the dollar which indicates that by one mechanism or another – default, devaluation, delay – that's how much the market thinks investors are getting paid back. Let's start by setting a goal of writing off 30% of the debt and come up with a plan of which combination of governments and global organizations, and Greek participation to the degree that is realistic, foot the bill.
A good deal is defined by one that makes all parties better off, but also requires that they accept some things they'd prefer not to. Greece is clearly better off in a deal structured as defined above than they'd be otherwise. There are theories put forth that the EU would be irreparably harmed by a Grexit, but the logic sounds eerily similar to the “Domino Theory” that kept the U.S. in Vietnam for 10 years and tens of thousands of lives longer than it should have been. Austerity per se is not the long-term solution to Greece's problems, but basic fiscal responsibility is. A pure “austerity-based” solution to the problem makes even less sense than did demanding excessive German reparations after World War I, which is somewhat ironic.

So, on the whole it makes sense for the Greeks to stay in the EU provided they meaningfully embrace the concept of fiscal responsibility on a going-forward basis just as every other legitimate nation-state does. They need to understand that it is no longer 2008 and that they cannot frighten the world into dictating terms. If they decide to drive the car off of the bridge, they are going to be the only ones hit by the splash.

It is imperative that the Greek government comes up with a sensible budget and fiscal blueprint, and that there be objective milestones and metrics put in place to monitor progress. That being said, there is no plausible way for the existing debt load can be dealt with via austerity alone. Greece needs to be released from “debtors prison” provided they present a sensible plan to avoid ending up there again. They should have some role in the paying of legacy debt, but it should be a realistic and pragmatic role relative to the size of their economy going forward and the size of the overall problem. To do otherwise just ensures future failure.


Friday, April 19, 2013

New Beethoven Acquisitions: Annie Fischer and Claudio Arrau




I recently acquired two very interesting but two very different collections of Beethoven piano works.  The first was a long-sought-after complete set of Beethoven Sonatas by Annie Fischer on Hungaraton.  The other was a collection of Claudio Arrau's EMI Beethoven recordings from the mid-1950's.  Having acquired them virtually simultaneously, comparisons were inevitable.

The Fischer set has acquired quite a reputation.  Some have called it the most satisfying complete set of Beethoven Sonatas ever recorded, which is heady praise.  The complete set was available briefly as an import in the US, and some but not all of the individual volumes found their way across the water too.  These recordings have been out of print for some time and the lowest offering price on Amazon Marketplace for the complete set is currently $450.  All of these factors have given this set quite a cache and raise expectations to an unhealthy level.

After searching for over a decade, I finally landed a reasonably-priced copy.  My initial reaction was disappointment.  While there was nothing overtly “wrong”, I wouldn't rank this set higher than the middle of a very crowded pack.  The first word I would use to describe it is “stiff.”  The playing sounds a bit stiff, Fischer's mechanism, while capable of navigating the notes without mishap, sounds slightly uneven and stiff  too.  Even the action of the Bosendorfer she plays sounds stiff.  The tonal palate she achieves is quite limited.  While there is little banging, there is also little softness and even less beauty.  If I were listening blind and were asked to  identify  the provenance of the recording, I would have guessed  “a faculty member recital from a very good conservatory,” which it turns out isn't very far from the truth.  Fischer recorded several Beethoven Sonatas for EMI in London in the early 1960's.  Although the recorded sound is better on Hungaroton, I think the EMI recordings are better overall.




The Arrau was both an excellent contrast and an excellent example of my point.   Any 15 second segment announces that you are listening to a master pianist.  This set captures Arrau in a very interesting period of his career.  His playing is much more spontaneous and vibrant than it became even ten years later when he re-recorded all of the sonatas for Philips. His unique tonal palette and musical mastery are all there, even though many of the recordings themselves sound boxy.  EMI seems to have pawned him off to their “B” team, and some (but not all) of these recordings even as late as 1958 are in mono.  It's doubly sad considering what superior sound RCA, Mercury, Decca, and even Columbia were achieving contemporaneously and just how important Arrau's tone was to his artistry.   

Arrau can be an acquired taste.  Many find him to be too slow and deliberate, but there is also such depth of sound and such an incredible sense of  musical tension (Arrau famously believed that “speed was the enemy of passion”).  Once experienced, this tension seems so appropriate to Beethoven that one can't imagine anyone attempting this music without it.  This is one of the hallmarks of a great interpretation:  its way seems to be “the” way.  This isn't really true, but in the moment the performance holds you in its spell.  This element of “rightness” (even if it's “false rightness”) I find absent in Fischer's recordings.  

The Arrau box also contains a complete Beethoven Concerto cycle with Galliera conducting.  All but the Fourth are in stereo, though again not in wonderful sound.  Still, I think I'd choose this set as the best of Arrau's Beethoven Concerto cycles.  I had given up on Arrau in the First and Second Concertos.  His recordings for Philips (both in the mid-1960's and the mid-1980's) sound leaden.  It's not just the very slow tempi (though here they clearly don't help).  It feels that Arrau has trouble connecting with the spirit of very early Beethoven.  One wonders if he would have even bothered with these pieces if it weren't to complete a recording cycle.  The EMI recordings of these pieces are a major surprise.  They're good!  Now I wonder what made Arrau lose the thread of these works only a few years later.

The “Emperor” is a surprise as well.  It's absolutely fantastic.  I think it's the best of the four Arrau “Emperors” I now own (the others are Klemperer (live), Haitink (1970), and Davis (1984)).  Speaking of Klemperer, when I learned Arrau recorded the Beethoven Concerto cycle on EMI, I was initially  disappointed to learn  that EMI (i.e. Walter Legge) had chosen Galliera to conduct these recordings instead.  Now that I've heard them, I'm not disappointed at all.  Galliera is another one of those “sneaky great” conductors who didn't have a blazing reputation but never put out a bad recording.  And  thanks to Testament, we now have contemporaneous Arrau/Klemperer recordings of Concertos 3 through 5  as well.  Lucky early 21st century collectors,  though I wish EMI  hadn't waited  nearly 50 years to approve their release. 

Of course, these are just my reactions.  If you're reading this and feel differently, I'd love to hear what you think and why. You  may not change my mind, but you never know.  There was a time when I couldn't get past Arrau's slowness, which was even more pronounced in the later recordings which were my first exposure to him.   Let's discuss.




Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Slamming the Door in the Audience's Face






I attended the Vadim Repin recital on Friday April 5th at the Valley Performing Arts Center in Northridge. The recital was nearly as wonderful as my post-concert experience was horrible (I plan on posting a concert review shortly). The staff of the facility treated me and two other audience members with a level of arrogance and rudeness that was difficult to process let alone understand.

When I was a young piano student, my teacher told me that it was my duty to visit performers in the green room (the post-concert artist reception area) after concerts whenever possible. This didn't have anything to do with fame and it wasn't about asking anything more of the performers. The visit was meant as an expression of appreciation for the previous two hours the performer had just spent on the stage. If you got to the green room and it was sufficiently crowded, then it was okay to leave. But there's no emptier feeling for a performer than having given of themselves only to be left with an empty green room.

So over the last 40 years or so I've been frequenting green rooms at most of the major and at many of the minor performing halls both in the US and abroad. Typically all are welcome. It's not the artist's private dressing room; it's a public reception area. Sometimes the performers are very relaxed and generous with their time and sometimes they are not. I can remember rare occasions when the performers were either too tired, ill or otherwise indisposed to visit the green room. These occasions are rare because most performers genuinely enjoy the post-concert ritual. Typically it is one of brighter spots in the schedule of a touring musician.

It turned out that I actually had some degree of a personal connection with Vadim Repin I spent a week at the Verbier Music Festival in Switzerland in the summer of 2011. I made some friends who were in turn friends of Vadim Repin and Yuri Bashmet and I was invited along one evening for post-concert drinks. Much of the conversation took place in Russian, but I did manage to have a break-out conversation with Repin about musical icons, historical recordings, and the relative merits of innate talent versus dedication and perseverance. We didn't forge a life-long friendship or exchange email addresses, but it was a nice evening and an interesting exchange.

Hanging out with Vadim Repin and gypsy violinist Roby Lakatos in Verbier, July 2011



At the VPAC recital I was sitting in the fourth row slightly to the left-of-center, directly in Repin's sightline. Given my feelings about green room visits in general, it would have been doubly rude not to make an appearance afterward. I didn't expect him to remember my name or the particulars of our meeting, but I would have been surprised if he had no memory of it at all. So after the final applause died down, I asked the nearest usher how to get to the green room. Normally there is a door near the side of the stage. Instead, the usher told me I'd have to leave to the building, walk around its perimeter, and then look for the artist's entrance near a loading dock on the adjacent street. I asked another usher and he corroborated that these unusual instructions were in fact correct.

So outside and around the building I went. I found the loading dock and the door. I saw an idling Lincoln Navigator with a driver adjacent to the loading dock that most probably was Repin's ride. I was initially surprised that I was the only one there. A few minutes later a man and his 12-year-old daughter arrived too. They were Russian/Armenian musicians. The daughter was a promising young violinist. Her teacher knew Repin's teacher and had urged her to relay greetings from both after the concert. The father was a professional percussionist.

Percussionist Art Sinanyan and his violinist daughter Ani.  His website is artperc.com


We decided to ring the buzzer at the artist's entrance. A security guard and an official-looking woman with a walkie-talkie opened the door a crack. “Who are you? Do you have a wristband?” the woman barked out summarily. I gave her my name and said, “Vadim knows me but he probably won't remember my name. No, we don't have wristbands. This isn't a Van Halen concert. I've never heard of wristbands for a classical recital.” “Well, we use them here and you're not getting in without one”, she answered and let the door slam.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. The three of us (one a young girl) had been sent outside to a loading dock only to be treated rudely and have a door slammed in our face. It was a chilly night as well. I leaned on the buzzer again. Nothing happened for quite a while. Finally, the same woman opened it a crack . She saw that it was me again and before I could get half a word out she slammed the door shut again while hissing, “Go away!”

The young girl was in shock. She was excited to meet Vadim Repin and report back to her teacher. Instead she was shivering on a loading dock while being repeatedly humiliated. I explained to her that I seriously doubted that Vadim Repin knew anything about what was going on out here. Based on my sense of him he would be appalled if he did and he would personally try to fix the situation. I told her that unfortunately some people just need to feel important and they take any little chance life gives them to push other people around in order to do so. Her father and I conferred. We both agreed that Repin would have to walk out of the door sooner or later and we'd take our chances that would be sooner. I also told him that if we were unsuccessful, I might be able to email some of my friends from Verbier and get Repin to send a picture or an email to his daughter. He shouldn't tell her because I couldn't guarantee I'd be successful, but I was reasonably confident I would be. I just didn't want to leave his daughter with nothing but this negative experience.

Sure enough, the doors opened about ten minutes later. Out came Repin and an entourage of a dozen or so people, none of whom had wristbands. Repin saw the girl and her father and immediately walked up to them. They started conversing in Russian. With the mention of their teachers, he smiled and his eyes lit up. He posed for pictures with the girl and even said a few words to her in Armenian. He turned to me and said, “I know that we met but I can't remember your name.” I told him that I'd be surprised if he did remember it and I reminded him of the evening in Verbier. He was as cordial as I had expected him to be. I thanked him for a wonderful recital and told him he should visit Los Angeles more frequently, which is all I wanted to convey in the first place. After a short cigarette break, he got into his limo and drove off.



As soon as I went home I logged onto the VPAC website. I looked through the personnel listing, and with the assistance of Google Images I quickly identified the name of the self-appointed gatekeeper. Her title, ironically, is “Director of Audience Services.” She had her moment of importance and I hope she enjoyed it. I'd love to hear her justification for why she felt it necessary to behave as she did. I want to know exactly what threat she saw posed by two well-dressed middle-aged men and a 12-year-old girl, and why it was necessary to summarily dismiss them without even as much as an “I'm sorry”, a “please” or a “I'd like to thank you for attending the concert but...” The artist's warm, spontaneous, genuine reactions to the “interlopers” made it abundantly clear that her judgment was in error and that the very premise of her actions was completely out-of-line. In addition to posting this account on my blog and various social media, I'm forwarding this account to the VPAC hierarchy, some classical music bulletin boards, and anyone else I can think of who would even consider attending a concert at VPAC.

Normally I don't post things like this, but it is a particularly odious feeling to watch a 12-year-old girl's enthusiasm get trampled upon just because because somebody can. Bullies need to be called out. Such people should not be allowed anywhere near paying customers, much less be put in charge of Audience Services. The Valley Performing Arts Center is a very young institution. They clearly understand little about how successful performing arts organizations operate and how they need to treat their customers. They should take their cues from the wonderful music their performers play. This music is meant to inspire the greatness within our souls and to speak to our better selves. We can best serve it by treating each other with respect and by acting like decent human beings. What's the point of taking the trouble to put forth concerts by world-class artists only to negate the entire experience through the mindless actions of a few thoughtless individuals? Why would I ever go back there and why would I ever recommend anyone else to do so?

Monday, February 27, 2012

Jan Lisiecki, Pepperdine University, February 26, 2012



Jan Lisiecki
Sunday, February 26, 2012 2pm
Raitt Recital Hall, Pepperdine University
Malibu, CA

Program


J.S. Bach 
Well-tempered Clavier (Book II ñ BWV 870-893)    
Prelude and fugue No. 14 in F sharp minor, BWV 883

Beethoven
Piano Sonata No. 24 in F sharp major, Op. 78    

Liszt 
Three concert etudes S 144                        
Il Lamento
La Leggierezza
Un Sospiro

Mendelssohn                                    
Variations Serieuses, Op. 54

(Intermission)

J.S Bach
Well-tempered Clavier (Book I ñ BWV 846-859)      
Prelude and Fugue No. 12 in F minor, BWV 857

Chopin
12 Etudes, Op. 25            

(encore)

Chopin
Valse, Op. 64 No. 2                          


My baffling quest to find interesting piano recitals in the LA area before they actually occur continues.  For those of you not familiar with my plight, here's a quick summary.  I like to attend piano recitals.  I do everything I can to find out when they're happening.  Despite my best efforts, LA Concert promoters endeavor to keep their concerts a secret.  No matter how hard I try – putting myself on mailing lists, trolling internet websites with regularity, searching artist-specific webpages – I often find out about piano recitals by reading the reviews a few days after they've already happened.

I'm not the greatest fan of adaptive email marketing (a.k.a. spam), but I have to give credit where credit is due.  Ticketmaster and StubHub have figured out that I like to go to classical concerts.  Yes,  their algorithms are still somewhat coarse -  they're not bashful about bombarding me with crossover concerts I have zero interest in.  Still, despite my best efforts there's no way I would have known that Jan Lisiecki was playing a recital within seven miles of my house without the miracle of spam.

It gets better. I immediately went to the Pepperdine website.   The concert was listed, but it was marked  as SOLD OUT.  I clicked through to Ticketmaster anyway (clicks are free, after all), and they had no problem selling me a ticket on the very front row.  Glad they have their story straight and glad I'm too stupid to take no for an answer!  This may sound like a rather circuitous route to end up with concert tickets, but this is no more than par for my usual course.  I've concluded that a SoCal classical music promoter is a person who gets paid to keep enthusiasts away.  They are very, very good at their jobs.

The concert was at Raitt Recital Hall on Pepperdine's spectacularly beautiful campus in Malibu.



The hall holds almost exactly 100 people.  I just missed Lisiecki's recital in Verbier last summer (it took place at 11:00 am on the afternoon I arrived), but I saw it via MediciTV's feed on the web.  He played the identical program he was set to play at Pepperdine and he was simply amazing.  Lisiecki is a 16-year-old Canadian.  I don't know how much biography I need to provide because 16 years does not allow for a lot of life to document.  If you want what little information there is, his website can be found here.



Lisiecki came out after a short introduction.  Given the intimacy of the hall, he decided to provide spoken introductions before each section.  He opened with a F# minor Prelude and Fugue from Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier (WTC) Book II.  His Bach made no apologies to the piano.  Lisiecki made sparing use of the damper pedal but he achieved such a perfect finger legato its absence was barely noticeable unless you were looking at his feet.  He utilized dynamics, but more in the manner of Edwin Fischer than, say, Richter or Sokolov.

His next piece was Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 24 (Op. 78), also in F# minor.   Lisiecki mentioned in his introduction that Beethoven once referred to this odd-shaped two movement work as his favorite of his 32.  I can see why, because you really have to have a deep love and understanding of Beethoven to pull this piece off.   Kempff's mono recording provides an excellent example  of how to do so.  The first movement has a lyrical, yearning quality but seems to belong more to a set of Bagatelles than to the opening movement of the Sonata chosen to follow the mighty “Appassionata.”  The second and final movement is a Rondo Allegro whose principal theme sounds like a beer-hall song.  Despite its surface quirks, there's a lot going on beneath the veneer of this nine-minute work.  By choosing this piece over the likes of the Appasionata, Waldstein, or even the Pastorale which seem to be the “go-to”  Beethoven Sonatas for young pianists, he suggests a sense of taste and understanding that is quite rare for a musician under thirty.  That he can  pull this piece off convincingly is even more impressive.  When I'm evaluating a new set of  Beethoven Piano Sonatas, this is one of the  first pieces I will turn to (along with Op. 7 and Op. 54) to hear if the pianist is truly has something to say about  this music,  or whether he's completing yet another Beethoven sonata cycle because his producer or agent thought it may be a good idea.  At the ripe old age of 16, Lisiecki passes this test and then some.  Once again,  he used the damper pedal sparingly but his amazing legato would prevent you from knowing so if you weren't looking at his feet.  This allowed him to maintain clean textures and perfectly control his chord balances without sounding dry in the least.

Next up were the Liszt Concert Etudes.  Again, this was an interesting Liszt selection for a young pianist.  There's some flash, but a lot more difficulty of the non-flashy and musical variety than is found is many more audience-friendly Liszt choices (e.g. Funerailles and some of the Transcendental Etudes).   His “La Leggierezza” and especially “Un Sospiro” were  studies in how to maintain a beautiful, flowing musical line against a procession of technical impossibilities, all without calling undue attention to anything but the music.  In this way, he was much more in the tradition of Arrau and Bolet than he was of Horowitz and Cziffra.  He achieved a full, rounded sound and a decent dynamic range, but again not in the hyper-dynamic Russian style.  Never once did his tone turn harsh nor did he bang. Banging is often the result of a bad interpretive game plan.  If a performer uses up the bulk of his  controlled dynamic range before he's ready, banging is sometimes the only tool left in the box.  I recently heard a pianist display her maximum forte in the first page of the Liszt Sonata.  Where was she to go from there?  (Answer:  nowhere good).   Lisiecki's blueprint in these Liszt pieces was well-conceived and executed to perfection. “Un Sospiro” was truly memorable.  It was one of the best performances of the work I've heard, and easily the highlight of the recital.

The first half closed with Mendelssohn's “Variations Serieuses.”  Once again, Lisiecki achieved miracles of clarity via the use of finger legato over the damper pedal, but this was the one point of the concert where I feel that his control may have gotten away from him.  The concluding variations have plenty of percussive repeated chords and while the end result was exciting, there was also more than a little banging.  I could see how Lisiecki wished to end the first half on a thrilling note, but given his spectacular success with the previous Liszt group I think he would have been better served by choosing another Liszt piece over the Mendelssohn.

The second half opened with another selection from Bach's “Great 48” - the F minor Prelude and Fugue from WTC I.  It was well-played, but I'm not sure why Lisiecki felt the need to circle the program back to its beginning.  Lisiecki's fingers were well-warmed at this point and he could have easily proceeded on to the Chopin Etudes without anyone feeling cheated, but impeccably-played Bach is always welcome.

As the opening Bach selection mirrored the key of the Beethoven Sonata, this F minor Bach Prelude and Fugue set up the  first Etude of Chopin's Op. 25 set in the related major (A-flat).  It is incredibly brave for a pianist of any age to attempt either set of Chopin Etudes (Op. 10 or Op. 25) in a recital setting.   Each piece presents a different technical challenge.  There have been many famous pianists – Horowitz, Rubinstein, and Richter to name three – who never performed the complete set as there was one or more etudes that they never felt they could master.  First and foremost, despite all of the technical demands the performer needs to treat these pieces as music.  Alfred Cortot was perhaps the greatest exponent of these pieces as pure music in spite of the fact that he could barely play two measures in a row mistake-free.  There's an awful lot to balance here, and presenting each etude live in sequence one after the other is cumulatively taxing, both physically and mentally.  It doesn't help matters that the most stamina-draining etudes are the final three.

I was impressed that Lisiecki approached each etude on it's own terms.  I have heard pianists approach some of the slower etudes as resting points, or even as supports from which to leap forward.  Not the case here.  Lisiecki seemed to be “in the moment” in every single piece which is an ideal to strive for but incredibly hard to achieve.  His execution was technically breathtaking and musically superb.  The only quibble I could make is that I found #11 (the “Winter Wind”) a bit too rushed.  It wasn't quite as maniacally fast as Andre Gavrilov's recording (the fastest I've ever heard), but it was not far behind it.  This performance of Op. 25 could be compared without apology to  to Grigory Sokolov's live recording.  It's hard for me to imagine I'll ever hear these pieces performed better in recital.

Lisiecki played one encore:  Chopin's Waltz Op. 64 No. 2.  He played it with a touch of Mazurka rhythm, which was interesting.  Many of Chopin's favorite genres are in ¾ – the Polonaises, the Mazurka's, and obviously the Waltz's.  I believe that if Chopin had wanted this piece played as a Mazurka he would have designated it as such as he did with 50-odd other pieces in his canon.  Still, it's always interesting to hear a different take on an oft-performed piece whether or not one agrees.

The audience – all 100 strong, mostly senior citizens – were rapturous.  I heard several people mention that this was far and away the best recital this series has ever presented.  Lisiecki greeted audience members in the lobby afterward and signed copies of what is so far his only CD:  both Chopin Concertos recorded with Howard Shelley and the Sinfonia Varsovia when he was 14.  I spoke briefly with him and asked him which were his favorite recordings of Op. 25.  He mentioned Perahia and Pollini.  I asked if he had heard Cortot and he said that he preferred modern “audiophile” recordings over historical recordings.  Ah, youth.




So now I have yet another young pianist to keep on my “must see” radar.  There are worse burdens to have.  Besides, I have a feeling that even in Southern California keeping abreast of his local performances will not remain difficult for very long.  I suspect that in a few years' time when I boast that I saw Jan Lisiecki play a full recital from the front row of a 100-seat hall many will not believe me.