APOSITSIA III, St. Petersburg, Russia; solo performance, solo performance, Pablo Furman Music for Alto Saxophone and Electronics, Alex Shapiro Water Crossing, Molly Thompson Magnolias and Speed, and Spaneas Interludes; Music Hall, 7PM

29 September 2007
Mark Twain
United States of America

Dear Mark,

Well, I have returned to St. Petersburg with many a story of success! To begin with, my first festival event here in St. Petersburg was a challenge that was met and handled. I gave a lecture/class on (or, at least was supposed to be on) improvisation. Well, this ended up being more improvisatory then expected owing to the fact that I was in front of a Russian audience with no interpreter…the director of the Apositsia Festival was out handling his own challenges that running a festival brings, and I was on my own. My 20 or so Russian words were not going to help me here, and only some in the audience were musicians-most were visual artists.

So…I played, I demonstrated sounds, I drew pictures and asked for concepts and improvised around these, I jumped up and down a lot, I blew some Ellington…amazingly, this took an hour; I even continued with some attendees after the lecture-we got around most language issues with little trouble. I then left for Moscow…

If St. Petersburg is a “European” city, then Moscow is a “World” center; the diversity was quite evident, as there was most certainly more of an “Eastern” taste and feel. I will be exploring this more on later trips-unfortunately, this was a short one. I did, however, experience my first overnight Russian train-4 crammed into a room that reminded me of a WWII submarine movie, with bumps on the tracks like depth charges off the bow…it was tight and bumpy, but we survived the 8 hour trip.

Finding the venue was harder, but it was accomplished. There was a tremendous amount of construction around the site, so any signs were obscured. DOM, as it’s called, it the experiemntal music and art space in Russia-a great venue! Beautiful setting and great people and technicians. One neat thing is that they even had local artists create paintings that incorperated the individual artists and groups participating at the Long Arms Festival; mine is a very cool ‘jungle-vibe” with my name in Cyrillic weaved in and around abstracted ‘vines’-very cool.

The concert was a wonderful experience. My program kicked off the festival and I have to say that the audience was great-knowledgable but not arrogant, and “INTO IT”, if you dig me. They seemed so happy that I was there for them-so embracing. The premier of Molly Thompson’s piece went over greatly-I even read the poem that it was based on beforehand (“Sex, Magnolias, and Speed”, by Yusef Komunyakaa). I shared the evening with some wonderful artists who are also participating in both festivals-we spoke of future collaborations across the continents! Just fantastic.

Then we returned here-another 8 hour train, this time during the day. The next performance of this program is tomorrow night at the Music Hall.

On a sad note, Margaret left this morning for the States for almost 3 weeks to attend her brother’s wedding and to take care of professional obligations. I am here alone, not having enough Russian to ask for a half dozen apples at the fruit stand…but I’ll survive. In 10 days I leave for Bulgaria, so I am here on my own until then-always an adventure…

I did have a small victory though-after I dropped her off at the airport bus, my Metro card ran out, many kilometers from home; I was able to order 4 tokens at the ‘kassa’…I was so proud; mind you, I ordered 4 because that was the only number that I could remember…but a small victory is still a victory.

From the moment I awoke this morning, a song was haunting me-maybe it had to do with Margaret worrying about me becoming a hermit in her abscence (I actually don’t have enough food for that…), or my general dismay at her leaving me alone here, even though I am overrun with tremendous amounts of music to write and learn in the next ten days; but in my meloncholy, a certain Peter and Gordon tune (written by Lennon/McCartney) has haunted my waking hours:

Please lock me away
And don’t allow the day
Here inside
Where I hide
With my loneliness
I don’t care what they say
I won’t stay
In a world without love

Until next time,
Demetrius

Long Arms Festival, Moscow, Russia; solo performance, Pablo Furman Music for Alto Saxophone and Electronics, Alex Shapiro Water Crossing, Molly Thompson Magnolias and Speed (premier), and Spaneas Interludes; DOM Cultural Center, 7PM

APOSITSIA III, St. Petersburg, Russia; guest lecture and masterclass; GEZ 21, 7PM

26 September 2007
Mark Twain
United States of America

Dear Mark,

As expected, the Festival week began with some great fanfare. We had a wonderful performance of SHARE at the club-there were, I believe, at least 10 laptops weaving sounds and videos as well as more standard instruments. We all had a fantastic experience! I am very look forward to continuing this week-my first lecture is tonight, which will be on improvisation and contemporary techniques. Then, immediately following, an overnight train to Moscow for my first solo concert-exciting!

Last evening, we attended a reception for Fulbrighters (Margaret) at the US Consulate here in St. Petersburg. Very nice people. The part that relly amazed me were the initiatives that are being taken by the Consulate to connect into the cultural circles of St. Petersburg and also in creating educational forums and opportunities for both adults and children who want to know more about American culture. They are also interested in having scholars and artists give talks on American topics to the general public, which I will most certainly do. I honestly don’t know if this is common of all Embassys and Consulates of and in every country, but it should be. Seems very grass-roots to me-maybe a nicer way of being exposed to country’s culture without the overwhelming issues and considerations of poitics. I don’t care about politics, but I do care about people and want to learn about them.

After the reception I had one of my first true Russian experiences-the banya…ah, the banya. A happy combination of relaxation and sado-masochism, with beer. The relaxation part has to do with the setting-comfy couches, a table of food, billiards. And of course, the sauna. The sauna, however, has a dual purpose of giving you health and happiness by causing you, for lack of a better word, pain.

Allow me to explain:

The sauna seems like an ordinary US sauna but sits at a much higher temperature. There are heated rocks, however, in the sauna that one may (and does!!!!) pour water upon to intensify the heat about 3 fold, with the effect of being shocked into the belief that one’s ears have combusted. I must admit that in my delerium I believed that I was in a certain Halls cough-drop commercial, and I had to restrain myself from slapping the pour gentleman next me on the shoulder while saying in a resonant baritone “Breathe, my pasty friend, breathe!”. Luckily for all, I didn’t.

One may intensify the masochistic nature by taking a ‘dip’ in a cold water pool. Many, more faint of heart, will opt for a shower in which the temperature is easily controlled. Not one to miss the full experience, not only did I ‘dip’, but I ‘dove’…well, to be honest in my embarassment, it was actually more of a combination of belly-flop and cannon-ball so as to displace the cold water on my unsuspecting banya-mates. We were all friends, companions in banya-ing, afterall…

If the cold plunging is not enough, one may also pretend that he is a 12th century monk by whipping oneself with wet birch leaves to ‘stimulate circulation’..uh huh…sure. I didn’t ask if we were allowed to whip eachother, I thought that after the belly-flop incident, this would be too much to ask and hope for…but I must admit, the self whipping was stimulating-my guess is that it helps one through the Russian winters…one form of pain for another.

All and all a great eperience, with beer.

I wish to close this letter with a comment about visas. Being new to this part of the world, the idea of applying for allowance into a country seems to me disturbing in one respect, yet absolutely essential in another. Personally, I wish that all countries were open so that we all could enjoy and help eachother. Unfortunately, the concern for safety for one’s citizens must also be of utmost importance. I bring this up not in reference to Russia, but to visa procedures in Uzbekistan, which is where I am visiting in Novemeber. It has been touch and go with the visa procedure, both due to timing and language issues. We seem to have everything sorted out and my concerts and lectures in Tashkent will go as planned. I’m happy, the Festival is happy, the Ministry of Culture is happy…we are all happy.

We should all banya together! I’ll even bring the beer.

Until next time.

Demetrius

Human and Laptop jam session; The Place, St. Petersburg, Russia, 8PM

23 September 2007
Mark Twain
United States of America

Dear Mark,
I apologize for the few days between letters. The last few days have been very busy with preparing for my first week of Festival performances, which begins on Monday. The preparation is going well, and I finally have all of the new works that I will play this week-the one’s for the next group of concerts in October is a different story, including a new work of mine which I have not begun yet, but we will worry about that NEXT week.

As far as performances, we were treated to a performance last evening by the Catherine the Great Chamber Ensemble, which was performing at the big annual Early Music Festival here in St. Petersburg. Even though I am a very open-minded artist, I have to admit that the idea of going to an early music festival had about as much appeal as being covered in breadcrums at an aviary…granted, this had to do with visions of Renaissance Faires and people dressed in foofy outfits, waxing poetically in Olde English and playing nose flutes…badly. I actually realized that I had never really been to an early music performance, which is odd since I lived for years in Boston which is the Early Music capital of the US. So, I went smiling and openminded…well, openminded, anyways…well, somewhat openminded…

The concert was at the Mali Zal, or “Little Theater”-a beautiful hall, just gorgeous. The program consisted of the Bach family-J.S. and the boys, which I found strange for a supposed “Early Music” concert-no viols or recorders. The first performance was J.S’s Sonata in B minor for violin and keyboard. The harpsichordist, who shall remain nameless was terrible-square and messy; unfortunately, they gave the oaf a solo piece later on which he butchered-strangely, a second solo keyboard piece on the program failed to occur…

But, the violinist, a cat named Andre Reshetin…whoa…could he SWING! From the first phrase I was hooked. I was tapping my foot and had to refrain from yelling “yeah, man, yeah”, but I did bob my head rather violently (Margaret seemed horrified at this)-I felt like I was seeing Bird live-the chops, the phrasing, the SOUL; What an impact!

Good music, real music, and I don’t care the genre or time period, swings. This is what so many players, students AND professionals, don’t get. This lack of swing is evident in many classical players and ensembles that I encounter-classical music MUST swing-not like pre-WWII dance band swing, but it falls into a groove that is in sync with the rhythm of your soul-you feel it, you know it-it MOVES you. This is not just a problem with classical cats; I work with many jazzers as well who think they can swing (shu-fle off-to Buff-al oh), but not SWING. Rock musicians are notoriously ignorant to it; todays rock musicians, that is.

So this is swing-if you want to hear swing, listen to the Vienna Philharmonic play Mozart-THAT is swing; listen to Count Basie’s original band or Art Tatum playing the piano, THAT is Swing; Otis Reading-that’s Swing! Musicians have lost this, and it has sterilized the art of performance.
The coming week bring my first festival performances here in St. Petersburg and in Moscow. I can only aspire to Swing.

Yours ever faithful,
Demetrius

18 September 2007
Mark Twain
United States of America

Dear Mark,

We spend the last couple of exploring more of the St. Petersburg music scene. There is a certain vibe here, not just with the music, but the current cultural philosophy that I am starting to put my finger on; there was something, for lack of a better word, ‘familiar’ about it all. The way people look, act, shop, interact, talk…it reminds of me of…the 1980s in the US. There is this decadent feel about everything, and fashion and products are paramount with most people I see on the streets-people dressing very fashionably and sporting all of the latest technological devices-oh yes, Russia is far more electronically/Internet savvy than the US-everyone is hooked up or turned on, it seems regardless of generation. It also seems that money is being spent…a lot. The bubble is growing larger, and it will burst sooner or later; probably a more proper comparison would be the US in the 1920s…the 30s will be upon them soon enough.

But on to the music. On Sunday we attended a concert and had a tour of a instrument collection, both at Sheremetev Palace. The collection was interesting, many traditional and early classical Russian instruments from all families. One frustrating aspect was that they had numerous old flutes and clarinets and oboes, but they were all in glass cases with one label giving a description like “flutes, made of wood, bone, silver, glass; from Russia, Europe, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Japan” for a group of 40 or so instruments-no individual labelling about make or year; very annoying. They also had an early Adolphe Sax tenor saxophone, which seemed to be made of silver (but there was no label…), and the date was given as ‘latter half of 19th century”. My first thought in looking at this was “whoa…I’d love to play that-take it for a spin and see what it can do”, then I thought “well, why can’t I?”. Yes, why can’t I? What are all of these instruments doing sitting around gathering dust and falling apart-why AREN’T some of these being played? Granted, some were beyond help, but these were meant to be played! There was a Stradivarius, just hanging behind glass-how many violinists would treat that like a newborn; nuture it and bring it life again?!?! You put music in a museum, and music becomes a museum. Depressing.

Being in somewhat of a foul mood at this point, I went to the concert. It appears that every year there is a festival in St. Petersburg of one country’s music; this year, it is Finland. The group we saw was the Ambrosius Ensmble, which uses Baroque instruments and gained recognition for playing arrangements of Frank Zappa, and more recently the works of it’s director. It was pleasant, meaning that I wasn’t horribly offended. Oh, the ensemble was very tight, the arrangements were clever, but the performance was…well…as about as animated as a baked potato. I say this with all due respect to the leader and the accordian player (who had IT going, if you understand me-he could really play!), both who had passion-the rest, nothing. The violinist, who bothered me the most becaus she was out front, seemed to be completely asleep at the wheel, going through the motions. The ensemsle also had an incredible sense of dynamic void-which is amazing for 10 people, many amplified. Margaret, always kind, said that it could be due to the softer Baroque instruments-yes, this is possible, but I think narcolepsy was more the culprit. I hope that the leader had a video made of this performance-he may need to wake up his ensemble with a cattle-prod onstage. I’m sorry, maybe I’m shallow, but I want to be entertained-and I want my performers to be engaged in what they are doing-at least LOOK like your enjoying yourself-the unfortunate thing is that the performance was probably far better than I realized, and I would’ve probably been rather engaged had I experienced audio only. Live music is dying-this isn’t helping the cause.

Luckilly, this was dispelled a day later at our SHARE performance; the group, 4 of us, were very tight. An added treat was the performance of the Czech Republic based SABOT, a drums and bass duo rock band-excellent and exciting, and very nice people; the performance washed away the soundtrack of the previous day.

You’ll be glad to know that I started Russian lessons. My teacher is very good, patient, and has a good sense of humor-all important when trying to teach me anything. She is also about 4′ 10″; I was practically afraid of stepping on her. Which leads me to my final comment: I really believed that I would stick out more here. I don’t look Russian…I am definately of darker, Mediterranian complexion, sport a van-dyke and stand over 6′ 3″ (or 1.92 meters for you Europeans), which means that on average I’m a good 6-8 inches above most men here. There are exceptions, but few. St. Petersburg, however, is ethnically far more diverse then I thought. I thought that I would walk down the street and get many stares…nothing. I must blend in more than I thought, which is fine by me. Someone mentioned that I looked Cossack-maybe my ancestors are from that region-who knows?

The week brings many more adventures, connections and Russian lessons. I will be sure to update you.

Your adventurer,
Demetrius

Human and Laptop jam session; The Place, St. Petersburg, Russia, 8P

15 September 2007
Mark Twain
United States of America

Dear Mark,

Today, instead of relating my most recent experiences here in Russia, I have decided to wite to you about a book that I have just finished, and some insights that it has given me; including possible enhancements of my views of this current adventure that I’m on.

As we were waiting at JFK airport, I decided to buy a copy of Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road”; for some reason, it seemed the proper thing to do. I must admit to full embarassment that this is my first experience reading Kerouac; not just because of the incredible literature that he created, but also for the reason that I was born and bred in Lowell, Massachusetts, which is where he is from-I know his family, my parent’s (older) siblings were his friends; he is a folk hero there, both worshiped and vilified. Maybe that has to do with why I never read him-many people did not have anything kind to say about him, quite opposite, in fact. Maybe, I just never got around to it, which is suprising since his generation, the Beat Generation, is one that I know well.

I think that the issue with Kerouac stems from the post-WWI generation. WWI, for better or for worse, was the end of the Victorian Era; most certainly in thought, culture, and concept. The US was very Victorian-status and family heritage was considered the utmost of being-free thought was anathema to it’s philosophy. Many of the children born after the war were the ones who fought in WWII, or at least were old enough to understand the implications and results; here we start to have a change of philosophy, in particular the disillusionment with the United States’ post war policies and the atomic bomb. These individuals were fighting against the Victorian concept of status and reservedness, and were looking for freedom. Here we have a division in this generation: those who looked back to the Victorian lives of their parents, and those who looked forward: Kerouac looked forward, many in Lowell looked back-hence the Love-Hate relationship.

The Beat generation is also known as the Lost generation-they are really the group that bridged the 19th and 20th centuries. With their parents, or against them, that was the question. It’s really an amazing and confusing group-the generation that produced both Bebop and Abstract Expressionism was also the only generation in American history never to produce a US President. An amazing dichotomy.

My parents were Victorians, as I believe many immigrant families were-keeping traditions alive and holding respect for status and image and family. Kerouac was a Progressive, the antithesis of Victorian thought. This made him dangerous.

Which brings me to my experience.

I understand this book; I also can sympathize with the characters-I know them all, have travelled, befriended, and toured with them: I dare say I’ve lived that lifestyle to a certain extent-maybe at times too a large extent; I understand Sal Paradise, maybe too much. His dichotomy has been my own: the balance between the need for freedom, with the need for stability…and a home. I’ve balanced between being a wandering Gypsy and being in a controlled, safe environment for 20 years-I understand Sal; when you have one, you crave the other.
Which makes this next year a very inetresting experiment. Each new location has been an experiement of one kind or another-Boston was, as was NYC, as was the West-all experiments in understanding both freedom and stability-the need for one, and the want of the other. I’ve lived the life of Sal Paradise and know it too well; I’ve also had, for better or for worse, many-a Dean Moriarty at my side. I understand them.

It also makes me understand my parents more. I understand what they were keeping pure and what they were fighting against. My sister called my mother “Victorian”; it’s amazing how prophetic, and poetic, that title was. They felt the need to preserve-we felt the need to progress.
So, dear friend, my “Road” this time is Russia, the Balkans, the Baltics, Central Europe, the Caucauses, Central Asia, etc. What will I find this time? And more importantly, what it is it that I’m actually looking for? Adventure or Stability…or both? Maybe Illumination…but that is the subject of another pontification…maybe later…

Your ever devoted world traveller,

Demetrius