Author Archives: Cynthia Wang

Violinist Hahn-Bin‘s sold-out debut at Carnegie Hall last night was, in a word, exhilarating. Other words I’d use are amazing, edgy, revelatory (for me). The entire night was mind-blowing – not just because great music was being performed by a phenomenal musician, but because of the audience dynamics. This post isn’t meant to be a critique of Hahn-Bin’s performance, but rather a rumination on how we listen to classical music concerts, and think about the conventions of music.

We sat in the balcony in the last row, which lent itself to a lot of interesting observations, not to mention a prime people-watching spot. And boy, were people restless! I think New York suffers from that wanting-to-be-all-cultured-yet-can’t-sit-still-through-a-concert syndrome. I don’t think I have ever heard that much talking and rustling between pieces, as my friend Brittany pointed out.

Hahn-Bin’s repertoire for the night was, in a word (it’s a night of things in one word), unconventional. He played pieces from Schnittke to Cage to Kriesler, interspersed with some Chopin and Mozart. For those of you who don’t know, Schnittke’s music “was regarded as so radical that his musician friends did not dare to program him in the Soviet Union” (taken from Hahn-Bin’s program notes), and one of Cage’s most famous pieces is called 4’33”, where the pianist comes out and sits at the piano for four minutes and thirty-three seconds without playing a note. The whole idea behind it is to listen to what goes on in the ambiance, then to question whether such a piece is considered music, or some excuse for a cultural studies experiment.

I’m not qualified to talk about the intricate details of the music (that, and I can’t remember the details), but it was clear (at least up on the balcony) most people enjoyed the Chopin and the Mozart the best. Conventional classical music. Expected. Dare I say it…manufactured consent of what “music” and “high culture” are supposed to sound like. People in the row in front of me (four older women) were actually talking to each other during some of the non-Mozart/Chopin pieces. Talking!! Two of them left during intermission, and two others left during his last piece, Ludoslawsky’s Partita. Now, I don’t know if this happens all the time in New York, but I rarely see this happen, and I’ve been to my share of concerts.

The best part, though, was at the very end, when Hahn-Bin played his encore piece – a trope on “Silent Night” by Schnittke. This one I remember a bit more. Two verses of “Silent Night” interspersed with atonal chords, evoking laughter from the audience (you know, the part of the audience that actually “gets” it). One audience member, however, was not impressed. During the piece, I heard “not funny” and “poor taste” coming from this erm…rather large, hair follicle challenged and heterochallenged Caucasian (you’ll see why his race is important) sitting in the row below me. He had to be shushed by his partner and the audience members sitting behind him. When the encore was over and the applause died down, everyone got up to leave, and he and his partner ended up walking out of the concert hall right behind me and my friends. Here’s what I heard (in an almost-monologue, the same phrases repeated over and over indignantly)…and he was ANGRY and very LOUD:

“That was such poor taste. He shouldn’t make fun of other religions? How would he feel if we made fun of his religion? What is he…Buddhist? How would he feel if we made fun of Buddhism?”

Of course, because all Asians are Buddhists.

**Ok, here’s my academic take on the night…feel free to skip – and much thanks to Howard Becker for helping to inform my thoughts on this**

Moreover, the entire night brought up these questions that keep bouncing around in my head about music conventions and how these forms of music and “high culture” as we conventionally know it have become naturalized. Brittany brought up an interesting point that in our society, major keys are generally “happy”, and minor keys are “sad”. This dichotomy seems very biologically determinist to me, and I do not agree that we naturally feel happy when we hear things in a major key and sad when we hear things in a minor key (we had a lively discussion about this during intermission)…especially because concept of major and minor are based on the Western 12-tone scale. Middle Eastern music, Indian music, music from other cultures that do not adhere to the Western classical music conventions of a 12-tone scale don’t even HAVE major and minor keys. Funnily enough, the reason why we think music is so universal – that we hear stories of people in other cultures (usually cultures that are seen as “inferior” to our own) who cry when they hear Mozart for the first time – is probably because of the history of Western imperialism, especially for those of us who live in a Western society. Aren’t these stories simply perpetuating the naturalization of Western cultural imperialism in society? Of course, we’ll never hear of the stories where Mozart is played in another culture, and the other culture goes “WTF?” Not in our society.

I strongly believe that the way we listen to music is learned. We learn that “major” is happy, and “minor” is sad. We learn that Mozart and Chopin are beautiful, melodic, and Schnittke makes us go “WTF?” Our learning gets so internalized that we perceive it to be natural, and we dangerously lose the ability to enjoy things that don’t fit in our little box labeled “Music”. After all “music” is just a definition. What are its limits? Should it even have limits? (no…!!)

The classification of “classical music” in and of itself is a vehicle for an invisible authority of the so-called “high culture”. The setting of Carnegie Hall is another. The fact that we don’t wear jeans to listen to a concert (usually). All of this feeds into this pre-set system of aesthetic values, social status, and high culture that we associate with a certain type of music. When the preconceived notions of “classical music” are shattered, especially in a “high culture” venue like Carnegie Hall, people tend not to like that. It’s traumatic, like trying to make a circular peg fit in a square hole. You might have to shave off some of the peg, and some of the wood, to make it fit. I’m telling you, it’s traumatic. Almost physically. I won’t go too far down this road of how these concepts of venue, musical genre, contextualization, etc play into bigger ideas of authority, power, and credibility, but hopefully you get the point. Or, I’ll leave it to your imaginations.

All in all though, if it were your debut in Carnegie, would you rather play pieces that have been played hundreds, possibly thousands of times in the same hall before? Or would you try to be edgy and play something fresh that challenges the boundaries of classical music conventions – something really memorable? I think Hahn-Bin achieved the latter beautifully.

One of my favorite moments in cinematic history has to be the moment in “Mary Poppins” where, after Mary, Bert, Jane, and Michael get all sooted up after flying up the chimney and go gallivanting on the rooftops of London, after the chimney-smoke staircase, they get to the tallest chimney and look out over the city. The music goes from a variation based on that famous clock chime melody and transitions into an orchestral recapitulation of “Feed the Birds”, while the sun sets over the city and the night lights start glimmering in the buildings below.

But…that is not the scene I’m doing for this paper.

Yes, I know I’m on hiatus, but I have a couple new songs that I wrote/am writing/got finished in the last two months or so. So I think I can still call myself a musician. Somewhat.

The main one I’m ready to talk about and reveal to the world is “Evanston Rain”. It’s a companion piece to “Boston Rain”, and goes right into it. The recording on my Facebook site is really raw (I recorded it after a very long day, and kind of spur-of-the-moment type thing) and includes both parts (Evanston and Boston). I played it as such twice this summer, although sometimes I feel like the quality of “Boston” now sucks because there’s no break between the two songs, and both together is about 9 minutes of non-stop playing, and “Boston” is the second half.

Please check it out.

I also got a keyboard last month and have been writing new material and playing covers on it (as well as figuring out new things to do with “Atheist’s Prayer”). There is another (finally) piano song that I wrote, but is definitely not ready to be recorded or shared yet. More on this when it is.

As you can see, I’ve been on a classical music binge lately, thanks to being treated in recent weeks to some truly amazing violin playing, courtesy of Jennifer Liu (remember this name – seriously, folks), and I’ve been happily getting back in touch with my classical music roots and meshing them with my current research interests by looking them up on YouTube (I’m being a bit facetious here – the only meshing with current research interests is the digital media aspect and the fact that it’s probably preventing me from working on actual research), which has everything ranging from Heifetz playing Zigeunerweisen (a favorite of my brother’s, who played it, and Sabi’s, who sang along) and Cziffra playing Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody #2 (probably one of my all-time favorite piano pieces…and one I’ve NEVER played, and never attempted) to fun things like “Rachmanioff had Big Hands”, to first-time musicians braving the scathing comment boxes of the Internet by posting clearly amateurly-played pieces (many with good humor).

Today, I ran across a 6-yr-old violinist named Mercedes Cheung playing Zigeunerweisen. Impressive? Absolutely. Does it sounds good? Umm…let’s say I choose to take the 5th on that one. Watching these brings up questions about the spectacle and sensationalism. Let me be a classical music purist for a second and leave aside all my academic training about the myth of high/low/pop cultures. Let’s forget about Howard Becker for the moment. Why is this girl such a big deal? If she were older, say, even a respectable 10, and played like that, she’d probably be laughed out of the hall. Instead…well, I’ll let you read the comments for yourself. Ok, the thing is, the mass media doesn’t seem to have picked up on the fact that this little girl is playing some of the hardest pieces ever written for violin, but just like in the case of Connie Talbot on Britain’s Got Talent, the special part of it all is the age.

What’s even more interesting to me (here’s where this production vs. consumption side comes in) are the comments. The VAST VAST majority of the comments are about how good she is. It leads me to question this idea that I’ve REALLY learned to resist in the last year…the idea that you need to “learn” how to listen to “high culture”. I’m cringing as I write this, because in any other case, I’m strictly against this idea of high culture vs. vulgar/low/pop culture. I don’t feel there should be a distinction…for reasons I won’t go into here. I also don’t think there should be a judging of even classical music, since the classification of “good” in classical music simply hearkens back to the conventions and authorities that define what “good” is in music. The question is, are the viewers deaf to the music because of the fact that Mercedes is 6? Because what she does is impressive? What does that say about the type of music we look for? What does it mean then, to play music? Is it always tied to the identity of the musician – that we would settle for, or indeed in this case, praise, mediocre music because of who the musician? Is the identity of the musician, then, especially in this digital era of YouTube and easy publishing (publish, then filter, remember) more important than the music itself?

I’ve always worked with the philosophy of “just because you can, doesn’t mean you should” when it comes to playing classical music. I feel like it totally applies in this case. The thing is, I would say I’m definitely being a little bit unfair, because mass media hasn’t descended upon her with its vulture-like claws so I’m probably just picking on Mercedes a bit here as an example of something that happens on a regular basis (sorry, Mercedes – you’re cute as a button, and talented for your age to boot, and I can’t wait to see where you’ll be in 4 years, but…yea). Because this happens ALL THE TIME. Kids playing songs they’re simply not ready for – either technically or in musical maturity. In Mercedes’ case, it’s unfortunately both. It’s not music – it’s a stunt.

Let the hate comments begin… I really struggled with whether or not I should post this, because I feel like I’m being really mean…but in the end, well, here it is. Maybe I’m just too apologetic sometimes?

Dear Friends,

I would really appreciate it if you all took good care of yourselves, and stayed out of situations where you have to be hospitalized, see specialists, visit the ER, undergo surgical procedures, or be in other such situations. Thank you.

Love, Cynthia

Another one of those “What Would Adorno Say?” moments. I found this video of 13-yr-old self-taught violinist Justus Rivera on the Ellen show. Ashton Kutcher apparently discovered him, posted the vid and Twittered about it, making Justus Rivera the latest in pop sensation.

What’s interesting in this case is the meshing of what we’ve normally considered high culture (violin being a rather high-culture instrument – one that people spend years and years on perfecting) and pop (or, to make the binary distinction, low/vulgar) culture (he played “Smooth Criminal” on Ellen). Keeping in mind he was “discovered” by Ashton Kutcher, and his video on Ellen is now everywhere on cyberspace, aren’t there very strong strands of power and reputation at play here? The attention he got was not really by merit (I’m not going to say he’s a good or a bad violinist, since I think there are way too many ways to go with that one – what is conventional, what is experimentation, thank you, Howard Becker), but by a chance encounter with someone who wields a lot of attention-getting power.

That’s all for now. I need to find some better way of making my thoughts coherent.

I read this back when this experiment first happened. Joshua Bell stood in a DC metro station and played for 43 minutes, and the Washington Post had a field day observing how people would react to one of the best violinists in the world playing music as a street musician during rush hour (next to a trash can, to top it off).

This is great to go back to because it raises questions of high culture, pop culture, and whether we’re trained to appreciate music when it’s displaced from its conventional setting and plopped down in a lowbrow type area. I think we’re forced to start questioning this whole idea of high and low culture, what makes them different, and stop working under the assumption that certain types of art or culture is high or low. It’s all just socially constructed.

What’s interesting also is the clearly elitist position the Washington Post takes in this article – almost an elitist prank to play on the public (from a gaze and power perspective – they’re watching, but we don’t know they’re watching). It’s approached with the preconceived hierarchy that classical music is somehow above other forms of music…and ESPECIALLY music that is normally played in metro stations.

Grace sent this one to me today. Discouraging to think that many people still download it – ahh, the normalization of the Chinese/Asian “ching-chong”ness in our society… because, you know, we chinks go around saying “ching-chong” all the time and spout cheesy philosophical (albeit translated) words of Confucius (since he’s China’s ONLY historical thinker), and that makes complete sense to us.

http://gawker.com/5364440/iphone-gets-first-racially-offensive-app

Looks like Joss isn’t the only sardonic talent in the family. “Do You Want To Date My Avatar” made by Jed Whedon, is based on the web series, The Guild. Great commentary about anonymity and disembodiment and identity on the Internet. The concept is a bit outdated, but it’s still a cool video.

I haven’t seen The Guild yet. Looks like I’ll need to.

*may be updated later as more thoughts come as I digest*

**Spoilers Ahead! Be warned.**

At first glance, it’s a simple story. A Chinese delivery man gets stuck in an elevator after his last delivery of the night. But this, my friends, is a one-man operatic musical.

Based on the story of Ming Kuang Chen, “Stuck Elevator”, composed by Byron Au Yong and written (libretto) by Aaron Jafferis (artists-in-residence for the Asian/Pacific/American Institute at NYU) is a journey through the three days our psuedo-superhero, Kuang, is stuck in an elevator, hungry, waiting for help. On a deeper level, it works as a metaphor for the invisibility of undocumented Chinese workers in American society and, through the story of one man, examines how identity, societal position, and a yearning for home and family are constantly in negotiation and in tension.

I had the privilege of seeing “Stuck Elevator” workshopped tonight at the brand new Museum of Chinese in America (MoCA) in Chinatown. What a fitting place for the premiere workshop of this piece. Packed house. Actor Stephen Eng performed the part of Kuang. And there was a live orchestral group as well that consisted of cello, violin, and percussion.

Workshops are generally meant to be for works-in-progress and to provide the creators with feedback, which we did, and which I will continue to do here (in hopes that Byron and Aaron read this at some point). I feel like this piece is really close. Anyway, here are some of my thoughts, categorized somewhat loosely:

Music:
Great mix of Chinese traditional music, Western music, and a contemporary/experimental style. It organically melds the different musical styles so you don’t really notice them. Very enjoyable listen, with catchy tunes that stick in your head long after you leave the show. The most important thing about the music is that while it’s certainly not conventional (original stuff here, people), it’s accessible. It pushes boundaries, yet doesn’t alienate the audience.

Language:
This aspect is particularly interesting. Reminded me a bit of the Joy Luck Club, or Kiterunner, in that, through the process of allowing a character for whom English does not come easily (or, in Kuang’s case, almost at all), it is an ironic process of un-Othering the Other (in this case, a Chinese delivery man, a person who would otherwise be put in the position of a foreigner in America), and allowing the audience to fully relate to his plight.
I did find that understanding Chinese makes the script very poignant.

Symbolism and Politicism:
Hugely present. The metaphor of Kuang as a food that America swallowed, and the elevator as a metaphor for the belly of America from which he cannot escape (for shame of going back to his country) is sustained throughout the show. The invisibility of his situation, and the fact that no one could hear/find/SEE him, merely emphasizes how these service workers, who more often than not are undocumented immigrants who come to America in hopes of a better life, are unseen in our society. They don’t matter. There’s a double meaning here too – they don’t really exist – they don’t have papers, and in our paper-obsessed society (where nothing is real unless it’s “on paper”, as Derrida talks about in “Paper Machine”), they’re not really here. So, in essence, they’re invisible both in the eyes of our official system, as well as in the unofficial day to day happenings in society. This speaks to a much greater, ongoing issue of Chinese in America and the foreignness of people with Asian face, whether they are from Asia or born in America.

Most Memorable Moments for me (I apologize if I mis-describe the titles):

The hunger piece:
Reminiscent of spoken word, this piece involves a rhythmic whispering in the background with Kuang talking over it. This piece is one of the very few moments in the show where anger is felt. It’s a powerful piece, emphasizing the invisibility and non-acknowledgment of Chinese undocumented workers in America, but how important they are in the service sector of New York.

Takeout Man:
A catchy tune about Kuang envisioning himself as a superhero. The only thing I would say about this is that, unlike the other songs, this one repeats the chorus around 4 times.
Thank You – Kuang talks to various Chinese dishes (orange beef, General Tso’s chicken, etc) and thanks them for making him money. This is the first song of the show, and there is a reprisal near the end. It nicely bookends the show, in which we see Kuang slowly become less human (yet, at the same time, less of an Other) – personifying food, dehumanizing Kuang, bringing them to a plane of synonymy.

Peeing Himself – to me, this is the seminal moment of Kuang’s dehumanization. And Kuang struggles with holding it in, to hold on to his humanity.

THE ENDING

The ending requires its own section, since we ended up having a discussion about this during the Q&A. The show ends with the light showing Kuang laying on the ground after having peed and stabbed himself, hungry, thirsty, unheard, and generally invisible. An audience member made the comment that he would have liked to see a “Hollywood ending” – or rather an ending where Kuang is not positioned in such a defeated posture (ambiguity notwithstanding). He was supported by another audience member who would have liked to hear jingling or elevator bells or something to indicate that there is hope. Everyone was in agreement that we don’t necessarily have to see the doors open. But there was something this side of the debated wanted to keep alive – hope. Hope was something Kuang kept alive throughout the show, and I understand the desire to see that hope linger long after the curtain is drawn.

But I disagree with that, and I will use the idea of manufactured consent (of course – my favorite buzz word) to explain why I feel like the ending works as is. Throughout the show, the story allows the English speaking audience (read: American audience) to relate to Kuang, our protagonist (certainly an important positioning even as a one-man show), as a real, three-dimensional person. It allows us to feel what he feels, to know his thoughts and dreams, to experience his yearning for his family, his shame at the thought of returning to China without honor. He becomes visible to us – we see him, not only on a mental and emotional level, but on a physical level. He’s present in our minds and eyes. This is a process of un-Othering the Other – to make him less foreign to us. He becomes an Us – part of the in-crowd.

I understand wanting an ending that doesn’t seem so hopeless, but I fear any sort of “transcendent” or “hopefulness” would blind us to the reality of the plight of Chinese immigrants in America. We would leave the theatre feeling, well, hopeful. And that’s not always the case with these Chinese immigrants. Leaving the theatre hopeful, more content than one would with the current despairing ending, will lead to the feeling that everything will be ok – because we’re America, of course. What’s that? I like to call it Manufactured Consent (I believe Gramsci was the first to use the idea broadly, Chomsky wrote a book with that title, and Adorno and Horkheimer used it to lament pop culture), or false contentment. Because people who are content do not revolt or rebel, and hence keep those in power IN power. This is why we like happy endings. We have the feeling that everything will be ok. We feel less pain, less violence.

Having Kuang placed in such a defeated position at the end is heartbreaking. It’s a blow to the stomach. All that hope he had might all be gone. As idealistic as this may sound, but perhaps that violence to our psyche, that heartbreak, that pain, is the push we need to affect change, to bring awareness to these undocumented Chinese immigrants, to bring awareness to the invisibility of the Asian face in American society, to not let our history of Asians in America be written as merely “the absence of Asians in American history.” (something I believe Ronald Takaki said, but I’m a bit too tired to look it up right now)

I did, however, like Jack’s suggestion that the doors can open at the end and the next Chinese delivery man steps in as Kuang leaves, showing that the vicious cycle only repeats itself.

(disclaimer: all progress being made in other directions and vectors notwithstanding)

All in all, I think this is going to be something well worth seeing. I’m excited to see how this will evolve over the next few months. The next workshop will be in November.