Tchaikovsky's 1812, the N.C. Symphony, and a Great Spectacle

I was fortunate to hear the North Carolina Symphony perform Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture last night at the Reed Lallier -sponsored 4th of July celebration in Festival Park in Fayetteville.  The park was teeming, and it was a rowdy appreciative crowd.  As a doctoral level composer, something I keep to myself, it was obvious to me this overture by Tchaikovsky was the most representative piece of the evening.  Using the adjective representative I mean a piece which represents the art and craft of musical composition.  There were a variety of good arrangements on the program, but being the birthday celebration of America necessitated a patriotic-themed program.  There were nationalist pieces from both the Civil and Revolutionary Wars.  Terry Mizesco, the symphony's bass trombonist and composer of "Sketches from Pinehurst," arranged three of these.  There was a guest baritone vocalist, who did his best to actualize an authentic rendition of "Old Susanna."  It was comical but good.  As a doctoral level composer, something I keep to myself, it was comical because an issue was aired that is passé.  It is passé, because jazz is passé in America.  America's true art form is not understood by her current populace.  I am not sure they even are aware of it.  Once upon a time in a land far away there was this thing called jazz.  It was music of African, European, Canadian, and American origin.  It is not common knowledge that the Acadians sailed from Canada down America's east coast to the port of New Orleans where they settled.  It was  more temperate.  The term Cajun is short for Acadian, and they are of French origin.  Jazz is a melting pot, and that is what makes it interesting in its purest form.  We are not exposed even to fringe jazz anymore in America.  The idea that was aired as this guest baritone vocalist begin to sing was lack of swing.  He didn't really swing.  As he sang the words to "Old Susanna" it was if a stiff British opera singer was trying to impersonate an African-American.  His dialect or accent was not inaccurate and far from the roots of American music.  America is a melting pot, so there is a lot of room in which to wiggle.  His performance was the perfect musical metaphor for, "White men can't dance."  It has been a long time, since I was exposed to this musical issue.  No one swings anymore in America, so what is the issue?  The issue is his rendition was not authentic.  The symphony's rendition of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture was authentic, but they get a lot of practice performing music composed by a Russian homosexual.  [sic] Always I have liked Tchaikovsky's music.  He is an excellent orchestrator, and in particular his writing for wind instruments is exemplary.  I can tell it is Tchaikovsky by the scoring of the winds within the orchestra.  What was representative of this work was its form.  Form in composition is what happens from the beginning of the piece to the end.  It is apparent as the overture unfolds that Tchaikovsky emotionally is committed to the work.  He emotes, because things happen for a reason at the right moments in the form.  The orchestration and the rhythms are the most obvious example of this expression.  He uses a variety of metric-type modulations to create tension and release.  It, unlike a Sousa march, does not tool along at one hundred and twenty beats per minute.  It breathes, it evolves, and then it climaxes.  As a doctoral level composer, something I keep to myself, this is what engages me.  I listen to the piece as if it were my own, because I can hear these ideas represented in sound.  Theses are things a composer utilizes.  I wondered if these musical elements were apparent to the rest of the audience.  They were simplistic, and they were obvious, but did they make sense to the other listeners in the same way they did to me?  I could feel Tchaikovsky's emotional flow in the music, his personal expression.  Not many know he was a frustrated homosexual.  I love the music of Aaron Copland also, and he was a homosexual.  I found it to be quite surprising how large and supportive this audience was of orchestral music.  Orchestral music is not for everyone, but I think particularly here in Fayetteville it is in vogue to frequent the symphony.  Often I do not enjoy it, because it is pretentious.  The North Carolina Symphony was not, but its presentation was.  Jazz also has become this way in America.  Why must I stand up and cheer to appreciate quality music?  My life itself does not represent "rah rah."  I have no reason to "rah rah" an orchestra.  Fayetteville is a bit immature in her understanding and appreciation of art.  For some reason the artistic community here is compelled to "rah rah" just about everything they do.  In Columbus, Ohio or Columbia, South Carolina where I have lived, we actualized the music because it was natural.  It was an essential part of one's everyday existence.  It didn't make sense to "rah rah."  The musician's didn't require it.  Music making was a humble experience.  In Fayetteville it is different.  Listeners are encouraged to "rah rah" like it was a sporting event.  Music is more than just a stream-of-consciencness venting of emotion.  It is expressive.  It expresses something of a greater value more than merely supporting an orchestra.  There are a variety of reasons why patrons today are unable to understand this.  They have become known to me in the last few months.   I have come to understand living in Fayetteville, the full realm of human intellect is not possible.  Our physical being is being assaulted too much and too often.  We spend the majority of our time trying to make sense of this assault and trying to maintain our meager lives.  Rarely are we allowed to exist in an unadulterated form giving our minds the needed pastoralism to think great thoughts.  Instead we fend off bullshit.  I have come to understand I live four distinct and separate existences.  They are a physical life, an intellectual life, a subconscious life, and a fantasy life.  When I dream I am in the subconscious.  When I wake I am in the physical life.  Rarely am I in the intellectual life, because it takes discipline.  I am not allowed to be in the intellectual life, because I am too busy fending off bullshit rendered to me in the physical life.  It's a drag expending all of your energy on uncreative thoughts surviving.  This is what America has become.