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I prepared this short video with WNYC's Uncommon Economic Indicators in mind. What do you think? Be fair, but please—as Elvis sings—don't be cruel.



Source (approximately 00:59)

Fair In the Air!

I believe I met photographer Henry Fair soon after his arrival in New York City. I was a "publicity representative" at Columbia Artists Management Inc. (CAMI), and he was interested in taking photographs of the artists we managed.

Flash forward to today: Well-established as a portrait photographer, Henry has ventured into airborne shots of polluted sites. His Industrial Scars project is somewhat in the vein of Manufactured Landscapes.

Thanks to Dolph for drawing my attention to this Today segment about Henry and his work.

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Big Yellow Taxi: The Joseph Patelson Music House?

It's Not Just the Store—It's the Neighborhood!

The likely closing of the Joseph Patelson Music House is another one of those "end of an era" situations that sadden me. I hardly shopped there, but I greatly appreciated its presence, its existence, the ambience inside, and its positive effect on the atmosphere outside, in the Carnegie Hall neighborhood.

It makes perfect sense—it just seems right—for a music store to be located just by Carnegie Hall. That's been the "location, location, location" of Patelson's for decades—the store window easily visible (right) across the street from Carnegie Hall's stage door. Yet location didn't prevent the store from running into problems of continuity that many successful businesses face—and it didn't seem to be enough to help the store persevere despite competition from the Internet, where sheet music has apparently become relatively cheap and easy to obtain.

The loss of Patelson's would be the loss of another shop that I associate with old standards of quality and genuine affection for the products sold, the kind of places where aficionados mix and mingle. Appropriate comparisons would be the losses of the bemoaned Gotham Book Mart (d. 2007) and Elk Candy (d. 2006), both still the subjects of earnest searches judging from what leads web surfers to this blog.

Inside Patelson's you could soak in the old school ambience characterized by lots of wood furnishings, rows of music bins, and personnel who knew their stuff. Outside, it was part of a Carnegie Hall neighborhood including the gorgeous Steinway Hall as well as the landmark CAMI Building, which had been a school for dance and a retail outlet for a music publisher before being taken over by the music management firm CAMI, which vacated the premises several years ago.

I got to know the Carnegie Hall neighborhood when I worked in the CAMI publicity department in the mid-1980s, a still largely unwired period when one of the responsibilities of the publicity department was to clip and file local newspaper reviews of CAMI artists. Some reviews somehow escaped our notice, so I was excited to learn that someone at Patelson's also collected reviews and kept them ordered chronologically in scrapbooks where local musicians could leaf through them. After I found out that Patelson's would no longer hold onto this labor of love, I was delighted to help it to find a new home at CAMI.

I like to think of this anecdote as illustrating something good about the "performing arts neighborhood" around Carnegie Hall. I fear that it is diminishing, year after year.

Photo: David Marc Fischer

SIMON OF THE OPERA. At some point in the past century, Peter Gelb and I worked at Columbia Artists Management Inc. at the same time. For some reason (or perhaps, as is often the case in business, for no good reason at all) relations were strained between his division and Publicity, where I worked. Publicity was supposed to send pertinent clippings to all divisions, but I was told not to send anything to Gelb. Nevertheless, when I saw negative clippings about him, I passed them along anyway. I honestly figured that he should at least be prepared to defend himself against the criticism, but after a while he contacted the head of the department and asked why he always got negative clippings from Publicity. It must have been like getting hate mail.

So now Peter Gelb heads the Metropolitan Opera, and I'm a blogger--who's in a position to send something of a note of appreciation to him. You see, so far I've been to three performances under Gelb's aegis, and I've enjoyed them all. I've already written about seeing The Magic Flute at the movies. More recently Jenůfa won me over despite the big rock in the middle of the set.

And last night my opera-loving companion and I were fortunate enough to behold the Met's beauteous production of Verdi's Simon Boccanegra from rush orchestra seats that cost only $20 each!

Simon Boccanegra is a political drama that revolves around a major career change in the life of its title character. At the outset of the opera, pirate hero Boccanegra agrees to enters politics. Though he is popular as a doge, various men--from tenors to basses--are out to get him. Fiesco wants revenge because his daughter had been impregnated by Boccanegra well before any wedding plans were in place. Adorno wants revenge for his father's death at the hands of Boccanegra. And greedy political operative Paolo wants vengeance after Boccanegra refuses to allow him to marry Amelia, a "mysterious" orphan girl who just happens to be Fiesco's ward and Adorno's beloved.

If you think that synopsis is confusing, get a load of this version, from the Met. But don't let the convolutions (or Bernard Holland's take on them) dissuade you from going: The story is actually well-plotted and pretty easy to follow, with a theme of forgiveness that reminded me of Jenůfa. The gorgeous music includes a classic Verdi chorus. Last night all of the performers were very good, but creamy-voiced Thomas Hampson stood out as Boccanegra. (Angela Gheorghiu played Amelia.)

Remaining performances are on Saturday, March 3, at 1:30 pm; Tuesday, March 6, at 8:00 pm; and Friday, March 9, at 8:00 pm. I understand that the optimal night for rush tickets would probably be the Tuesday performance. For the best chance at those tickets, you can line up by the Met's underground gift shop about three hours in advance of the curtain. The conversation with the other rushees is supposed to be good...and you're likely to be on your way, tickets in hand, within an hour or so.

Thanks, CM, for standing in line and being such a good opera-loving companion!