martes, 11 de enero de 2011

Orchestra Arrives on Big Screen

CRITIC’S NOTEBOOK

Orchestra Arrives on Big Screen

Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times
The mezzo-soprano Kelley O’Connor and the conductor Gustavo Dudamel at the Walt Disney Concert Hall on Sunday.
During orchestral concerts in traditional halls, many musicians are often hidden from view, heard but not seen until singled out by the conductor for a solo bow. But woodwind and brass players accustomed to performing in relative anonymity behind a shield of string instruments may have to get used to close-ups if live HD broadcasts like the one offered in movie theaters by the Los Angeles Philharmonic on Sunday afternoon become more commonplace.

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Following on the heels of theMetropolitan Opera’s HD screenings, the first of three Los Angeles Philharmonic broadcasts featuredGustavo Dudamel, the orchestra’s dynamic and telegenic young music director, conducting works by John Adams, Bernstein and Beethoven at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. The performance was broadcast to more than 450 theaters in the United States and Canada.
Opera, theater and ballet naturally provide better visual fodder than a group of seated classical musicians in tuxedos. The most rewarding visual aspect of Sunday’s broadcast, which I saw at the Regal Union Square Stadium 14 in the East Village, was the chance to observe Mr. Dudamel at close range. In Disney Hall there is seating behind and to the sides of the stage, so audience members can see the maestro at work. But in most halls the audience stares at the conductor’s back while he or she communes in secret with the musicians.
Far less interesting were the endless close-ups of individual musicians; even more than on the small screen, it felt like a kind of orchestral voyeurism to watch the violinists diligently sawing away or the bassoonist’s cheeks puffed out at unflattering angles. Sometimes the camera operators, seemingly bored with filming the flutists for the umpteenth time, shifted to random and meandering shots of the ceiling.
When the cameras distracted from Mr. Dudamel’s superb conducting, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the vividness and depth of the surround sound, one advantage theater broadcasts can provide over home television. Purists might object that balance and volume are distorted, just as in the Met broadcasts it’s hard to discern the size of a singer’s voice. But movie theaters will afford different sonic experiences from those of concert halls, which themselves have wildly differing acoustics.
The decadent cinematic acoustics flattered the orchestra, which sounded terrific. Mr. Dudamel elicited vivid playing throughout, beginning with Mr. Adams’s “Slonimsky’s Earbox,” an energetic and virtuosic work inspired by Stravinsky’s “Chant du Rossignol.” For Bernstein’s Symphony No. 1 (“Jeremiah”), the mezzo-soprano Kelley O’Connor, who stood in the middle of the orchestra, sounded radiant.
Best of all was the inspiring interpretation of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. Mr. Adams, who was in attendance at the Union Square theater, described it as “a level of playing I haven’t heard from the L.A. Phil in that particular repertory.”
He felt honored, he added, that the Philharmonic would “launch such an adventurous and risky endeavor with a piece by a living composer.”
In addition to live backstage commentary, the broadcast featured engaging rehearsal footage and recorded interviews about the repertory. Mr. Dudamel, a magnetic stage presence, was charming and humorous throughout the broadcast, although he and Ms. O’Connor may have found it distracting to engage in casual banter with Vanessa Williams, the host of the event, only seconds before going onstage.
While the camerawork will no doubt be finessed in future broadcasts, the teething problems on Sunday were most apparent in the backstage excerpts. The awkward commentary and scripted questions from Ms. Williams, who seemed ill at ease, elicited chuckles from the cinema audience.
It has been noted that performing with the camera in mind is already affecting set design, costumes and staging in the opera world, as well as putting more pressure on singers to be slim and attractive. Staging and set design are less relevant to the orchestral world, although perhaps broadcasts might encourage orchestras to ditch the formality of 19th-century tails for contemporary attire. You could speculate that comely musicians might have an advantage if orchestral broadcasts become the norm. But even that seems unlikely, since many auditions are ostensibly “blind,” with musicians performing behind screens to ensure their anonymity.
In contrast to the many concertgoers who make a mad dash to the exits after a program, almost everyone in the large crowd at the Union Square theater, who had paid $20 a ticket, stayed to hear the encore, Brahms’s Hungarian Dance No. 1.
As with the Met broadcasts, the Los Angeles simulcasts offer listeners outside major cities a chance to enjoy first-rate live cultural events. What remains to be seen, as in the opera world, is how people with access to both will pick a format.
Many listeners were enthusiastic about the HD experience. Patrick Burns, 24, who recently moved to New York from Los Angeles, said he had been “excited about seeing Gustavo, as you can’t go anywhere in L.A. without seeing a billboard of him.” He said he hadn’t heard Mr. Dudamel conduct in Los Angeles because of the high cost of tickets. He called the broadcast great, adding, “I’ve been to Disney Hall before, and of course it doesn’t have the same ring as hearing it live, but I didn’t feel like I was missing out.”
Mr. Burns’s friend Justin Scholl, also 24, said he had never been to an orchestral performance before. Now he wants to attend a concert atLincoln Center.
A group of students from the Manhattan School of Music, who joked about their obsession with Mr. Dudamel, were also positive. One, Leah Claiborne, described the experience as “absolutely amazing,” adding that she enjoyed the close-up shots. Joshua Bavaro said he felt the Philharmonic broadcast had more “emotional impact” than the Met simulcasts.
But another listener, Justyna Szulc, found it “too loud and kind of overwhelming.” During the Adams piece, she said, “they were jumping from one person to another fast, and I couldn’t really focus on the music.”
“It was really distracting,” she added. “But I was happy with it. I would come back.”
Her friend Manuel Peña disagreed with her about the acoustics. “I was absolutely overtaken by it,” he said, “in a fantastic way.”
The next Los Angeles Philharmonic broadcast is on March 13; laphil.com.

Sounds of the World, Sousaphones Included

MUSIC REVIEW

Sounds of the World, Sousaphones Included

“Remember where you come from,” the Hawaiian singer Kaumakaiwa Kanaka’ole said, ending a traditional-style story song. That could be the mission statement for Globalfest, the annual world-music showcase that brought 13 groups to Webster Hall on Sunday.
Brian Harkin for The New York Times
Globalfest: Suva Devi performing with the Indian group Rhythm of Rajasthan at Webster Hall as part of the annual Globalfest on Sunday.

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Brian Harkin for The New York Times
Scenes from Globalfest: dancers performing during the set of the Congolese artist Diblo Dibala.
Brian Harkin for The New York Times
Lunise Morse and Richard A. Morse of the Haitian group RAM.
As soon as world music leaves home, it begins deciding what cultural memories are made for travel. Globalfest is partly a showcase for the annual Association of Performing Arts Presenters convention: an audition for promoters seeking something genuine from afar. Nearly everything now billed as world music involves some degree of crossover and packaging, even video backdrops. Yet at this year’s Globalfest roots were showing, and so were dance moves, carnival rhythms and — always a welcome sight — sousaphones.
Spectacle is built into some traditions, like those of Rhythm of Rajasthan, an alliance of two ancient musical clans, Langas and Manganiars, from the deserts of northwestern India. It had songs driven by hand drum and castanets, with hearty refrains and percussive vocal improvisations, akin to qawwali music from neighboring Pakistan and just as ardent and propulsive. The musicians accompanied a dancer, Suva Devi, who balanced a seven-tiered spire on her head as she moved to the beat. She also briefly danced barefoot on sword blades. (The group returns for a full concert on Friday at Symphony Space.)
Carnival beats propelled superb sets byOrquestra Contemporânea de Olinda,from Brazil, and RAM, from Haiti. The Brazilian band casually melds ideas from across the country. Its back line was a horn section, complete with sousaphone, that could sound like a brass band or a funk horn section; the horns backed a plugged-in group that could switch among samba, frevo from northeastern Brazil, mangue beat and ciranda from Pernambuco and some individualized Brazilian funk. The group tucks serious musical lore — like the use of the traditional rabeca fiddle — into wry songs.
RAM, a long-running band from Port-au-Prince, deployed the one-note trumpets of Haiti’s rara carnival processions in a set that cruised between carnival rhythms and other electrified Haitian traditions, including one song that proclaimed (in Creole), “We’re proud.” It was jubilant music to defy grim conditions. Novalima, from Peru, took old songs with Afro-Peruvian roots — there was slavery there too — and pumped them up with dance-club electronics.
Aurelio and Garifuna Soul also had socially conscious messages. Garifuna Soul, based in New York, draws on the Afro-Caribbean Garifuna culture of descendants of escaped slaves in Honduras, Belize and Guatemala. The music has a brisk, light-fingered Caribbean lilt, carried by Aurelio Martinez’s plucked acoustic guitar, and he sings with a sustained fervor akin to the Senegalese songwriter Youssou N’Dour, who has recorded with him.
Yoro Ndiaye, a Senegalese bandleader making his New York City debut, has adapted Mr. N’Dour’s Senegalese rock style, mbalax, into something slightly more Westernized: leaner arrangements (but still using the balafon, the Senegalese xylophone) and vocal lines that land on the downbeat instead of dodging it. Mr. Ndiaye eased into his set via a guitar-scrubbing Caribbean-flavored tune. But he soon moved into the spikier patterns and Senegalese modes that let his voice soar.
The New York City band Zikrayat (Arabic for “memories”) specializes in Egyptian music from the mid-20th century, played on traditional instruments: nay (flute), buzuq (lute), violin. It brought a belly dancer to twirl through part of its set, and it was equally impressive with a singer upfront: Salah Rajab, whose baritone conveyed romance, elegance and gusto.
The three lead singers of La-33, from Bogotá, Colombia, were also its dancers. Colombia has become a latter-day stronghold for the Cuban-rooted salsa that thrived 30 years ago in New York City. The group played its novelty hit, “Mambo Pantera” (based on Henry Mancini’s “Pink Panther” theme), but its own music was sleekly kinetic. There was more salsa from Pedrito Martinez, a crowd-pleasing Cuban percussionist and singer now based in New York, who hybridizes his songs with touches of jazz, soul and hip-hop.
Diblo Dibala, the Congolese guitarist whose pealing little guitar lines are a cornerstone of soukous dance music, was flanked by three rump-shaking dancers and then more as audience members crowded the stage, drawn by an irresistible groove. Playing lines that amble or leap, skip or circle, stroll or dart, Mr. Dibala had an infinitude of ways to turn the two-chord vamps of soukous into hooks.
There was gentler music too. Chamber Music — the French cellist Vincent Segal and the Malian kora player Ballaké Sissoko — played studious adaptations of traditional songs from places like Mali and Greece. Mr. Kanaka’ole, the Hawaiian singer, was backed only by a guitarist in songs drawing on island traditions, particularly chameleonic vocals. He vaulted through various registers and timbres, from bass to witchy contralto rasp to sweet soprano (his “skinny girl” voice, he said), a traditionalist tour de force.
And there was a raucous finale. The last set belonged to Red Baraat, a Brooklyn brass band (complete with sousaphone) that looks to South Asia, pumping out Bollywood tunes and Sufi songs with a crackling beat (from the two-headed dhol drum) and the muscle of horns blasting in unison, putting some New York bluster atop faraway roots.

You Might Already Know This .

You Might Already Know This ...

They should have seen it coming.
NBC, via Photofest
ESP, STATISTICS, A PSYCHOLOGY JOURNAL Name three things that have inflamed a dispute.

In recent weeks, editors at a respectedpsychology journal have been taking heat from fellow scientists for deciding to accept a research report that claims to show the existence of extrasensory perception.
The report, to be published this year inThe Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, is not likely to change many minds. And the scientific critiques of the research methods and data analysis of its author, Daryl J. Bem (and the peer reviewers who urged that his paper be accepted), are not winning over many hearts.
Yet the episode has inflamed one of the longest-running debates in science. For decades, some statisticians have argued that the standard technique used to analyze data in much of social science and medicine overstates many study findings — often by a lot. As a result, these experts say, the literature is littered with positive findings that do not pan out: “effective” therapies that are no better than a placebo; slight biases that do not affect behavior; brain-imaging correlations that are meaningless.
By incorporating statistical techniques that are now widely used in other sciences — genetics, economic modeling, even wildlife monitoring — social scientists can correct for such problems, saving themselves (and, ahem, science reporters) time, effort and embarrassment.
“I was delighted that this ESP paper was accepted in a mainstream science journal, because it brought this whole subject up again,” said James Berger, a statistician at Duke University. “I was on a mini-crusade about this 20 years ago and realized that I could devote my entire life to it and never make a dent in the problem.”
The statistical approach that has dominated the social sciences for almost a century is called significance testing. The idea is straightforward. A finding from any well-designed study — say, a correlation between a personality trait and the risk of depression — is considered “significant” if its probability of occurring by chance is less than 5 percent.
This arbitrary cutoff makes sense when the effect being studied is a large one — for example, when measuring the so-called Stroop effect. This effect predicts that naming the color of a word is faster and more accurate when the word and color match (“red” in red letters) than when they do not (“red” in blue letters), and is very strong in almost everyone.
“But if the true effect of what you are measuring is small,” said Andrew Gelman, a professor of statistics and political science at Columbia University, “then by necessity anything you discover is going to be an overestimate” of that effect.
Consider the following experiment. Suppose there was reason to believe that a coin was slightly weighted toward heads. In a test, the coin comes up heads 527 times out of 1,000.
Is this significant evidence that the coin is weighted?
Classical analysis says yes. With a fair coin, the chances of getting 527 or more heads in 1,000 flips is less than 1 in 20, or 5 percent, the conventional cutoff. To put it another way: the experiment finds evidence of a weighted coin “with 95 percent confidence.”
Yet many statisticians do not buy it. One in 20 is the probability of getting any number of heads above 526 in 1,000 throws. That is, it is the sum of the probability of flipping 527, the probability of flipping 528, 529 and so on.
But the experiment did not find all of the numbers in that range; it found just one — 527. It is thus more accurate, these experts say, to calculate the probability of getting that one number — 527 — if the coin is weighted, and compare it with the probability of getting the same number if the coin is fair.
Statisticians can show that this ratio cannot be higher than about 4 to 1, according to Paul Speckman, a statistician, who, with Jeff Rouder, a psychologist, provided the example. Both are at the University of Missouri and said that the simple experiment represented a rough demonstration of how classical analysis differs from an alternative approach, which emphasizes the importance of comparing the odds of a study finding to something that is known.
The point here, said Dr. Rouder, is that 4-to-1 odds “just aren’t that convincing; it’s not strong evidence.”
And yet classical significance testing “has been saying for at least 80 years that this is strong evidence,” Dr. Speckman said in an e-mail.
The critics have been crying foul for half that time. In the 1960s, a team of statisticians led by Leonard Savage at the University of Michigan showed that the classical approach could overstate the significance of the finding by a factor of 10 or more. By that time, a growing number of statisticians were developing methods based on the ideas of the 18th-century English mathematician Thomas Bayes.
Bayes devised a way to update the probability for a hypothesis as new evidence comes in.
So in evaluating the strength of a given finding, Bayesian (pronounced BAYZ-ee-un) analysis incorporates known probabilities, if available, from outside the study.
It might be called the “Yeah, right” effect. If a study finds that kumquats reduce the risk of heart disease by 90 percent, that a treatment cures alcohol addiction in a week, that sensitive parents are twice as likely to give birth to a girl as to a boy, the Bayesian response matches that of the native skeptic: Yeah, right. The study findings are weighed against what is observable out in the world.
In at least one area of medicine — diagnostic screening tests — researchers already use known probabilities to evaluate new findings. For instance, a new lie-detection test may be 90 percent accurate, correctly flagging 9 out of 10 liars. But if it is given to a population of 100 people already known to include 10 liars, the test is a lot less impressive.
It correctly identifies 9 of the 10 liars and misses one; but it incorrectly identifies 9 of the other 90 as lying. Dividing the so-called true positives (9) by the total number of people the test flagged (18) gives an accuracy rate of 50 percent. The “false positives” and “false negatives” depend on the known rates in the population.
In the same way, experts argue, statistical analysis must find ways to expose and counterbalance all the many factors that can lead to falsely positive results — among them human nature, in its ambitious hope to discover something, and the effects of industry money, which biases researchers to report positive findings for products.
And, of course, the unwritten rule that failed studies — the ones that find no effects — are far less likely to be published than positive ones. What are the odds, for instance, that the journal would have published Dr. Bem’s study if it had come to the ho-hum conclusion that ESP still does not exist
?

Depth of the Kindness Hormone Appears to Know Some Bounds

Depth of the Kindness Hormone Appears to Know Some Bounds

Oxytocin has been described as the hormone of love. This tiny chemical, released from the hypothalamus region of the brain, gives rat mothers the urge to nurse their pups, keeps male prairie voles monogamous and, even more remarkable, makes people trust each other more.
Yes, you knew there had to be a catch. As oxytocin comes into sharper focus, its social radius of action turns out to have definite limits. The love and trust it promotes are not toward the world in general, just toward a person’s in-group. Oxytocin turns out to be the hormone of the clan, not of universal brotherhood. Psychologists trying to specify its role have now concluded it is the agent of ethnocentrism.
A principal author of the new take on oxytocin is Carsten K. W. De Dreu, a psychologist at the University of Amsterdam. Reading the growing literature on the warm and cuddly effects of oxytocin, he decided on evolutionary principles that no one who placed unbounded trust in others could survive. Thus there must be limits on oxytocin’s ability to induce trust, he assumed, and he set out to define them.
In a report published last year in Science, based on experiments in which subjects distributed money, he and colleagues showed that doses of oxytocin made people more likely to favor the in-group at the expense of an out-group. With a new set of experiments in Tuesday’s issue of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, he has extended his study to ethnic attitudes, using Muslims and Germans as the out-groups for his subjects, Dutch college students.
These nationalities were chosen because of a 2005 poll that showed that 51 percent of Dutch citizens held unfavorable opinions about Muslims, and other surveys that Germans, although seen by the Dutch as less threatening, were nevertheless regarded as “aggressive, arrogant and cold.”
Well-socialized Dutch students might be unlikely to say anything derogatory about other groups. So one set of Dr. De Dreu’s experiments tapped into the unconscious mind by asking subjects simply to press a key when shown a pair of words. One word had either positive or negative connotations. The other was either a common Dutch first name like Peter, or an out-group name, like Markus or Helmut for the Germans, and Ahmad or Youssef for the Muslims.
What is measured is the length of time a subject takes to press a key. If both words have the same emotional value, the subject will press the key more quickly than if the emotional overtones conflict and the mind takes longer to reach a decision. Subjects who had sniffed a dose of oxytocin 40 minutes earlier were significantly more likely to favor the in-group, Dr. De Dreu reported.
In another set of experiments the Dutch students were given standard moral dilemmas in which a choice must be made about whether to help a person onto an overloaded lifeboat, thereby drowning the five already there, or saving five people in the path of a train by throwing a bystander onto the tracks.
In Dr. De Dreu’s experiments, the five people who might be saved were nameless, but the sacrificial victim had either a Dutch or a Muslim name. Subjects who had taken oxytocin were far more likely to sacrifice the Muhammads than the Maartens.
Despite the limitation on oxytocin’s social reach, its effect seems to be achieved more through inducing feelings of loyalty to the in-group than by fomenting hatred of the out-group. The Dutch researchers found some evidence that it enhances negative feelings, but this was not conclusive. “Oxytocin creates intergroup bias primarily because it motivates in-group favoritism and because it motivates out-group derogation,” they write.
Dr. De Dreu plans to investigate whether oxytocin mediates other social behaviors that evolutionary psychologists think evolved in early human groups. Besides loyalty to one’s own group, there would also have been survival advantages in rewarding cooperation and punishing deviants. Oxytocin, if it underlies these behaviors too, would perhaps have helped ancient populations set norms of behavior.
Early religions were also involved in establishing group cohesion and penalizing offenders. Could oxytocin be involved in the social aspects of the religious experience? Dr. De Dreu sees oxytocin’s effects as being very general, and no more likely to be associated with the religious experience than with soccer hooliganism. “When people get together with others who share their values, that drives up the level of oxytocin,” he said.
For military commanders, nothing is more important than the group cohesion of their soldiers, for which oxytocin might now seem the ideal prescription. But this assumption is a bridge too far, Dr. De Dreu said, given that his findings are based only on lab experiments.
What does it mean that a chemical basis for ethnocentrism is embedded in the human brain? “In the ancestral environment it was very important for people to detect in others whether they had a long-term commitment to the group,” Dr. De Dreu said. “Ethnocentrism is a very basic part of humans, and it’s not something we can change by education. That doesn’t mean that the negative aspects of it should be taken for granted.”
Bruno B. Averbeck, an expert on the brain’s emotional processes at the National Institute of Mental Health, said that the effects of oxytocin described in Dr. De Dreu’s report were interesting but not necessarily dominant. The brain weighs emotional attitudes like those prompted by oxytocin against information available to the conscious mind. If there is no cognitive information in a situation in which a decision has to be made, like whether to trust a stranger about whom nothing is known, the brain will go with the emotional advice from its oxytocin system, but otherwise rational data will be weighed against the influence from oxytocin and may well override it, Dr. Averbeck said.
Dr. Averbeck said he was amazed that a substance like oxytocin can affect such a high-level human behavior. “It’s really surprising to me that this neurotransmitter can so specifically affect these social behaviors,” he said.