Philip Glass's live performance of "Glassworks," St. Louis Art Museum, 1973. Snatches of the uniquely interesting piece were promoted on local FM stations for two weeks. The Auditorium audience started with about 150 people in attendance. The walk-out began gradually 5 minutes into the piece. I stayed about 20 minutes with maybe 8 people scattered about, when I realized my high pain threshold was deteriorating and the shear boredom of the repetitive arpeggios was driving me insane. The composer, playing keyboard and directing from the bench with an occasional nod, gave no indication that corrections should be made nor that there was, indeed, an audience or a problem. To this day, I consider this piece one of the most god-awful examples of the genre called, Minimalism. I guess, if you are a composer, you have to start somewhere.
—James Nickel
This is a VERY difficult question for me to answer, but I will lump just a few select "experiences" together and call it a day: (1) Hearing Shostakovich's String Quartet No. 8 performed by the Blair String Quartet at Vanderbilt University, (2) Performing a Bach Chorale from the St. Matthew Passion ("Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden") IN the Thomaskirche, in Leipzig, Germany, and (3) Taking part in all things "Bang on a Can" that I was lucky enough to experience in person (Marathons, the Summer Music Festival at MASS MoCA, etc.)...
—Sam Crawford
My favorite memory from a live event was when I traveled to LA to see David Lang's opera, "The Loser," and after the show I got to meet some of the crew. I had the opportunity to talk to David and he told me that my students were very fortunate to have me as a choir director. It was really beautiful to get to share a memory like that from a show that is an example of praising the prodigy while the one individual is in the shadows, kind of how I was feeling at that point in my career.
—Alex Martinez
Memory # 3. It's the all night marathon at World Financial Center. I've settled in for the overnight in order to hear Stockhausen‘s Stimmung at dawn, along with a few hundred other friends and like-minded strangers. Energy is lagging, people are nodding out in their seats. Then, at about 4 in the morning, Dan Deacon is set up in the middle of the venue, a few dozen fans in tow. He blasts out a noisy set of electronic punk rock, and for the first time I recall, there's crowdsurfing at a BOAC Marathon.
—Bill Bragin
3 memories. Will post separately Memore #1: Earliest one - it's probably the summer after my freshman year in college. I had just learned about Terry Riley's In C through a class in the Music of Frank Zappa. Found out that BOAC was presenting it at RAPP Arts Center, a converted school in what was then still referred to as Alphabet City. Somehow, I succeeded in convincing my musician father to join me in volunteering for the event, helping check tickets. My mind was continually cracked open for many hours. I don't think he even remembers it 😉
—Bill Bragin
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