Digital Conquers All

I believe some of the most interesting and spontaneous photographs have happened at the end of a roll. Those last few frames you thought you were burning off, sometimes yielded surprising results. But that end-of-the-roll whimsy is now obsolete in the digital-camera age. Then again, with virtually no limit on the number of digital photographs you can take, a carefree impulsiveness to snap a picture of anything and everything is probably more pervasive than it should be.

Stanley Kubrik’s 2001: A Space Odyssey is still one of my favorite movies. And the fact that all of the special effects in this science fiction film are entirely mechanical, makes it that much more special. I’d say that most of the visual effects in that film are still superior to the over-modulated, eye-candy digital CGI effects used in films today.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not preaching analog here. I’m not one of those freaks that collects LPs or feels more creative in front of a typewriter. Quite the contrary. I love technology. However, I know that with all the benefits of our binary wireless high-speed broadband satellite era, there are sacrifices. I like to know what I’m giving up and how I can salvage some of that experience while reaping the benefits of the latest-and-greatest.

For example, I used to enjoy listening to AM radio on long road trips. Driving through small rural towns, local AM radio was how I could get a fleeting sense of the local aura at 75mph. But those days are probably gone now. For my birthday, the parental units were kind enough to give me an XM Satellite Radio receiver.

I’ve been using it for nearly two weeks now and am thoroughly hooked. 
Satellite radio allows you to listen to the same radio stations, commercial-free, coast to coast. So when you’re driving through Salina, Kansas and all you can find is one crackly Bluegrass channel, you can turn on your satellite radio and tune in a crystal-clear, interstellar Bluegrass channel of your choosing.

The unit I have is Delphi’s RoadyXT which is a lightweight faceplate the size of a credit card and a half-inch thick. It attaches to a base unit for the home and another for the car. While it requires a special antenna and a power source (wall outlet or cigarette lighter) it can play through any FM radio wirelessly. It’s the same concept behind Apple’s iTrip or, as I more fondly remember, “Mr. Mic.”

The broadcasts are all-digital and have an amazing clarity and range of sound. Even playing through my atrocious car stereo, the sound is impressive. Meanwhile, the faceplate displays the current artist and song playing -- a convenient distraction while driving. And living in an area where I can pick up radio stations in two major media markets but in six years haven’t found a single decent broadcaster worth programming into my presets, the selection of music choices on XM is a welcomed joy.

XM Satellite Radio offers a staggering number of channels. But much like cable television, only a small fraction of those offerings are of interest. Once you’ve weeded through and found what you’re looking for, it’s pretty addictive. However, my big gripe with XM is that they’ve gotten too cutesy by giving many of the channels names that have no relevance to the content. Names like “The Blend,” “The Mix,” “Big Tracks,” “Deep Tracks,” “Fred,” “Lucy” and “Ethel” aren’t nearly as helpful as, say, “Lite Pop,” “Alternative,” “Modern,” “Acoustic” and “Classic Rock.” When there are 200 channels to chose from and memorize, a little more specificity would be appreciated.

It took me a week to learn that “Lucy” is actually worthy of low-number preset status. It’s mix of artists like U2, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Violent Femmes and Elvis Costello is eclectic without being esoteric. And they play mostly lesser-known tracks from their albums, rather than just hits like “One” or “Pump It Up.” Too bad they have to throw in Dave Matthews or Counting Crows from time to time. Still, the variety of music played is far greater than anything you hear over the airwaves. Plus, during their station IDs, I really enjoy the little messages they scroll across the display like, “You were never cool in high school,” or “People like you made Jim Belushi famous.” 


Knowing me, you’d guess that I’ve also spent a good deal of time listening to XM Classics, their appropriately-monikered Classical music channel. It’s great to hear a Classical station playing large-scale symphonies and lesser-known contemporary works that the wallpaper public radio stations never go near. However, XM Classic’s programming does venture into the very obscure, even for this aficionado. I have very far-ranging knowledge and esoteric tastes. But I can do without the lowly works of Johann Wilhelm Wilms, Hugo Alfven, Karl Ditters von Dittersdorf or Alan Hovhannes, thank you. Sometimes, it’s okay to just play Beethoven. Heck, I’d even settle for Bruckner. 


XM Satellite Radio also offers “XM Public Radio” which carries some interesting programs. But last night it sounded like they were broadcasting hearings on traffic improvements somewhere in Boston. (?!) This is the one place where Sirius (XM’s competitor) has the edge in that they carry all of NPR’s programming. Which is why in morning drive time, I’m often switching off the XM and turning on the local NPR on FM. Sorry, but Bob Edwards (formerly of NPR, now on XM every morning) just isn’t cutting it for me. I need my “Morning Edition.”

I'm also excited about the large number of Spanish language stations. So many foreigners say they learned English by listening to American music or watching American TV. So I'm hoping that by listening to "Aguila," "Viva" or "Deportivo" on a daily basis will have me conversant in no time. "Radio des satélites es muy bueno!"

Saving the best for last, the greatest thing about satellite radio is that it carries every Major League Baseball game every day. This is probably the main reason it was seen as great gift for me. And that’s correct. Being a fan of an out-of-town team, I’ve been known to drive around in my car listening to fuzzy AM stations just to catch the end of a game. Now, I can listen clearly to all the games while driving around aimlessly. The little display even posts the current score, inning and number of outs.

Because of the limited number of channels they devote to MLB, they only carry the home team broadcast. It’s a small drawback. Listening to the away games, you hear the other team’s announcers in every city spouting off the same stupid facts from the media guide. But getting to hear the local commercials from Denver or Los Angeles has a surprising entertainment value. 


So, thanks mom and dad. XM Satellite Radio is definitely cool. I probably won’t miss listening to AM radio anymore. But maybe I’ll write XM a letter with a suggestion for a new radio station – “AM Across America.” Every five minutes the content would crackle from polka, to Christian talk, to Pat Boone. Now that would be worth the subscription.

How Much Dumber Can I Get?

I fondly remember being intoxicating by the flicker of a 13-inch black-and-white television I had in my room as a child. With bunny ears perched precariously on top of the TV, I could only switch between the seven different channels by getting up from my cushy bean bag chair to spin the dials. The channels were 3, 6, 10, 12, 17, 29 and 57. Today, those sound more like Powerball numbers.

Now, I sit at home on my couch with my remote control -- although I do miss that bean bag chair -- partaking of not just 80+ television stations, but as much other media as I can absorb simultaneously. It's something I like to call "multivegging."

What exactly is multivegging? Well, I'm doing it right now.

• The television is tuned to "Deal or No Deal." The sound is muted as this is a game show that requires no audio. Judging by tonight's contestant, apparently it doesn't require a fifth-grade math education, either.
  
• The XM Radio is on, tuned to an out-of-town baseball game. This also has a small screen on it displaying the current score, inning and number of outs.
  
• My laptop is open and online and there are no less than five tabs open in my browser.
  
  
  
  1. An online poker game I switch to every time the alert tells my it's my turn to act. I'm raising on a heart flush draw right now.
     
  2. A live box score from one other baseball game I'm currently tracking. I know, it's too early to scoreboard watch.
     
  3. An eBay auction item I've been monitoring for a week that ends in just three -- wait, two -- minutes. Crap, outbid again!
     
  4. An online crossword puzzle I fill in as a diversion -- a sorbet of the senses, if you will. Hey, what's a four-letter word for "bread spread?"
     
  5. And of course, this blog I'm currently typing. Does that explain all the typos?
  
  
• Oh, did I mention there's an issue of Chesapeake Home next to me, opened to an article on maintaining your hardwood floors? This is notable, of course, because I neither own a "Chesapeake Home" nor have any hardwood floors in my current home. In fact, the magazine subscription isn't even mine. It just arrives every month in my mailbox, addressed to the previous resident who has been deceased for no less than ten years.
  

I digress.

I know, you're probably wondering, "How is 'multivegging' different from 'multitasking?' "

"Multitasking" implies that you're actually doing something -- a task. I do this at work all the time. While I'm on the phone, I'll finish up an e-mail or file away important papers in the shredder. I'm able to fully accomplish two things at once. Talk about efficiency! Conversely, "multivegging" is about doing lots of nothing all at once. Right now, I'm processing as much useless, unavailing, time-wasting information as possible. After a long day of multitasking at work, it takes more than just one or two or three diversions for me to unwind. I need a circus of distractions to liquify my brain.

My wife, meanwhile, is in the other room, on the other computer, watching the other TV.

And somewhere in the house, a baby sits neglected. Hey, where is that kid anyway?

Coast to Coast

FROM TODAY'S LA TIMES

No-show bug must be going around
Cancellations are part of life for the L.A. Phil and other groups, but this year it's epidemic.

By Scott Timberg
Times Staff Writer

April 4, 2006

It seemed like a perfect — and perfectly balanced — week for the piano, the musical equivalent of Apollo and Dionysus appearing at the same party. On March 15, the stately, golden-toned Murray Perahia was to perform a recital at Walt Disney Concert Hall. The following night, the romantic, impetuous Martha Argerich would lead the Los Angeles Philharmonic in Beethoven's First Piano Concerto.

Neither event, as it turned out, would come to pass.

Both Perahia and Argerich canceled — Perahia with hand trouble, Argerich after a gallbladder operation — joining a striking number of concert and opera musicians this season who have been too sick to perform.

"They come in waves," says Deborah Borda, the Philharmonic's president. "We've been lucky for the last four or five years. But it's been a tidal wave."

In fact, at the end of last week the orchestra announced the 10th cancellation of its season: Hélène Grimaud, a young French pianist, was to play Rachmaninoff this Thursday and Sunday but canceled because of the aftereffects of pneumonia. (André Watts will appear in her stead.) Those shows were to bookend a Randy Newman concert Saturday night at Disney Hall. But that was postponed until November because Newman broke his wrist.

The Philharmonic is hardly alone. James Levine, the popular conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the Metropolitan Opera, canceled the remainder of his season with the Met, as well as concerts and a tour with the BSO, after an onstage fall and ensuing shoulder surgery. Seiji Ozawa of the Vienna State Opera dropped out of concerts because of shingles. Mezzo-soprano Lorraine Hunt Lieberson has failed to meet several commitments over the last year — including the San Francisco Opera premiere performances of John Adams' new opera, "Doctor Atomic" — because of a lower back injury. Plácido Domingo canceled several Met performances in February, as well as appearances elsewhere as "Parsifal," because of an inflamed windpipe. And so on.

So how are the Philharmonic and other organizations coping with this slew of no-shows?

"You have to stop doing everything that you're doing — immediately," says Chad Smith, who became the Philharmonic's vice president of artistic planning in January right as the trouble began. "You have to make sure Thursday night's concert happens" — and is up to the standards the audience, conductor and players are accustomed to.

"I think when you panic you usually make the wrong decision," says Laurence Tucker, director of artistic planning at the Seattle Symphony. "If it was easy, they wouldn't need me."

For the producing organization, a cancellation means not only the rapid issuing of a news release and the dispatching of hundreds of apologetic postcards. It also means scrambling to find a replacement. That can entail not only bundling a budding diva, say, onto a red-eye, but also searching for available hotel space.

Some administrators try to look on the bright side.

"Because we plan two and three years in advance," says Jeremy Rothman, artistic administrator at the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, "it's an opportunity to do something current: 'This person has just been discovered.' " But, he adds, "No one looks forward to it." This year, he has had to deal with gaps in the Baltimore schedule created after his artistic director, Yuri Temirkanov, decided to take four weeks off after the death of a close friend.

Though early 2006 has seen a remarkable number of cancellations, this is by no means the first time there's been a rash of ailing musicians. Borda recalls a period in the early '90s when the New York Philharmonic, which she then headed, saw so much ill health among visiting musicians that "even the replacement would cancel."

She grew accustomed to coming onstage to break bad news. "I was on the stage so much it became humorous," she says. "When I walked out, people would groan." Before a New Year's Eve gala for which guests had paid as much as $250 to see Olga Borodina, the news of the diva's cancellation came so suddenly — Borda was getting dressed for the event — that she had to tap her dinner date, Marilyn Horne, to sing with about an hour's notice.

Some administrators make a joke of it: Rudolf Bing, the longtime Metropolitan Opera general manager, once announced a cancellation wearing a Viking helmet and toting a shield, as if to repel the audience's fury.

Much of the time, locating a substitute is not particularly hard. For conductors — both an orchestra's permanent leader and guests — organizations typically have backups ready. They also hire "cover" artists for difficult vocal pieces and for contemporary works not likely to be known by a large number of musicians.

But sometimes a substitution can be tricky. In February, the young British composer Thomas Adès was preparing to conduct a suite of music from his new opera based on Shakespeare's "The Tempest" at Disney Hall. Two days before rehearsals were set to begin, the Philharmonic heard that soprano Kate Royal was canceling because of illness.

"There are exactly four sopranos on the planet who have sung that music," Smith says. "I know Tom's music well, so I knew who these sopranos were."

But one of them couldn't get out of a performance in London, and another was tied up in Seattle. The third potential replacement was in Denmark and available but was expected to have visa problems. "On that one," Smith says, "I actually sweated."

It was only when he remembered that Santa Fe Opera is scheduled to perform the work this summer that he realized another singer, somewhere, might have started learning the music. Patricia Risley, slated to sing the work in July and August, was performing in Minnesota but flew in to replace Royal.

The pressure comes partly because orchestras try to keep the program unchanged after a cancellation. Audiences, after all, are as likely to purchase tickets for the repertoire as for the performers.

Otherwise, Rothman says, "it'd be like going to a movie and have them change the film on you because a reel's broken. The music is what's survived for so many years. That's what comes first when we have to make a change."

Opera, in general, is less vulnerable to cancellations because productions tend to emphasize the ensemble. But things can still go wrong. Christopher Koelsch, director of artistic planning at Los Angeles Opera, recalls 2000's rehearsals for "Peter Grimes," during which Philip Langridge, a celebrated Grimes, was poised between sickness and health. He could probably make opening night — but only if the company would allow him time to recover during the dress rehearsal. So another tenor flew in from New York to fill in at that rehearsal, then was sent home — and Langridge opened the opera without incident.

This season, the Philharmonic's experience with Perahia and Argerich shows the range of possibilities. Perahia, who on his doctor's advice dropped out of his entire tour, was deemed irreplaceable, and the recital was simply canceled. But Argerich — whose cancellations, health-related and otherwise, are legendary — was replaced by a young fellow Argentine who had recently won the prestigious Gilmore Artist Award and was starting to build up steam. Ingrid Fliter's bittersweet interpretation of the Beethoven drew cheers from audiences and strong reviews.

The possibility of surprise or disaster, after all, is what makes attending a live performance different from putting on a record or watching a movie.

"These are the kinds of jobs where you don't know what you'll deal with when you come to work each day," Rothman says. "That's what keeps it exciting. There's always something to keep us on our toes."