Don't knock the Rach

Plus, Sonny Burgess and Baby Jane Dexter

by Michael Caito

Classical enthusiasts are familiar with the genesis of Sergei Rachmaninoff's Second Concerto -- about how the composer had been crushed by the reception given his First Symphony in 1897. So crushed that he ended up trying hypnotherapy with Dr. Nicholai Dahl after the turn of the century.

Voila! He was "cured" by Dahl's four-month-long repetitive therapy, which went something like "Don't sweat it, you're a good composer and you're not washed up. Besides, you're gonna end up living in Beverly Hills anyway, and even though you'll never get a ruble from the 1946 pop hit "Full Moon and Empty Arms" or the movie Shine let's just call that first symphony an "oops" and move on. That will be $45 million, please. In cash."

When the second concerto premiered successfully in Moscow in 1901 patrons wondered why it was curiously dedicated to Dahl. A good question, since another event has rarely been given attention. Before meeting the doctor friends had arranged for the anguish-wracked, writing-blocked composer to have a sit-down curative with Count Leo Tolstoy, whom Rachmaninoff worshiped. Music historians including Melvin Berger have noted that the composer was an intimidated mess at this meeting, and that Tolstoy took pains to assure the 26-year-old that he was a meritorious composer who shouldn't let a crash-and-burn reception to one symphony color future efforts or interrupt his process. "Do you think that I am pleased with myself?" Tolstoy asked a quaking Rachmaninoff. "Work."

Later Rachmaninoff wrote that "it all ended very unpleasantly," and the tough-love speech by Tolstoy was discounted following the composer's subsequent creative ricochet. Thus the sense that the stark grandeur -- a recurring texture of Tolstoy's genius -- is all over the second concerto seems to have been downplayed, despite the mostly somber opening Moderato and the lyricism of the second movement (Adagio Sostenuto) infused with a sparkling piano cadenza as a pivotal moment. While I don't claim to be a shrink, there's too much of Tolstoy's feel in the Rachmaninoff we'll hear as part of the Rhode Island Philharmonic's opening night on Saturday at Veterans Memorial Auditorum to dismiss that overlooked meeting of these two giants. For Tolstoy, an artist's creative process always involved inner war. Perhaps not surprisingly, the physician prescribed inner peace. Whatever either gentleman did or did not do, it worked for the erstwhile creatively-constipated Rachmaninoff. That would make a heckuva movie . . . .

THE PRIDE OF EMPOWERMENT. Improving the quality of human life through empowerment may well be one of the crowning achievements of the 20th century. How so? Three, or maybe even two decades ago there was an implied cordoning-off of developmentally-disabled people, and institutionalization was common. Thanks to the work of numerous non-profs institutions have been closed as many clients are moved to supervised residential housing, and progressive-minded businesses have offered employment to those who, in the past, were unreasonably considered unemployable. One need only spend one afternoon at the Fogarty Center in North Providence to see the stunning rewards that such empowerment brings on a daily basis. Meanwhile, smaller non-profs like the Providence-based Gateways will always have to scramble for the monies necessary to continue their missions. It's absolutely no surprise that AS220 -- itself the epitome of empowerment and encouraged expression -- is hosting a weekend-long fund-raiser for Gateways. Performance includes poetry reading by Michael Dorry and Terry Wickham, stand-up by Aunt Margaret and tons o' tunes by the likes of folk artists Marylin Manfra and Elaine McKenna, plus roots-rockers like Dan Lilley & Love Train, the Details, the Astro-Zombies and more. Both Friday and Saturday the Gateways Cabaret Fund-raiser starts at 8 p.m. on Empire; info at 461-0830.

At the same place, Tuesday's Action Speaks forum touches -- as you knew it eventually would -- on the role of art and the artist here in the technological tsunami of the late '90s. Is hyper-text hyperbole? Whither the paperless novel? Would Liam Gallagher storm off stage if boinked with a virtual sneaker? Would Noel then call him a "nipple" (that's American for "nipple")? Is an oil painting as effective on a wall as it is as a downloadable .tiff ? Or does it need a posterized Gaussian blur? Can one reach down to pet a plasticine Gromit? Or are we just talking applets and oranges? Hmmmm . . . .

CLUBLAND. The Call starts a banner weekend with Ronnie Earl and the Broadcasters and Black & White Friday. Earl's new Verve disc is another in a stream of gigantically-tasteful tunes reflecting Ronnie Earl Horvath's penchant for consolation music. Simply put, he is a master of both taste and the redemptive power of true blues. It wasn't at all surprising to hear (from the man himself during an interview last year) that one of his most rewarding moments have come while visiting incarcerated prisoners, offering messages of hope for the future. I got the sense that Ronnie would be that kind of a guy even if he had never picked up a guitar in his life. Thankfully he did. The next night Sun Records legend Sonny Burgess comes back around with Jack Smith & the Rockabilly Planet opening. Surf fans wanting a wake-up call may want to locate that band's self-titled 1988 release on Flying Fish (one of my favorite platters o' wax) featuring Jerry Miller (late of J.Geils/Magic Dick), Vin Earnshaw (now a High Roller) and more. Though Planet personnel may have changed, the foundation has not. Burgess, another one of the most pleasant people you'll ever meet, is revered by those in the know as first-generation rockabilly royalty. Spectacular weekend at the Call.

Baby Jane Dexter

One of the most highly-anticipated area debuts of the year becomes reality on Sunday at CAV when Baby Jane Dexter arrives for an Amos House Benefit. Her disc Big, Bad & Blue Live (Quannacut) is a joyous, heartfelt, sometimes cantankerous recording from a recent show at Eighty-Eight's in New York City. Accompanied on the road by sterling arranger/pianist Ross Patterson, Dexter was declared Best Female Vocalist twice by the Manhattan Association of Cabarets and Clubs, appeared with Patti LaBelle at the American Music Fest, toured (theatrically) with Jacques Brel and Anything Goes, did a jazz special on BET and also created a motivational program called "Healing Through Entertainment" which examines self-image and gender roles.

Which is all very nice, but it would ring hollow if the record failed to meet the advance hype. It emphatically does not. Sylvia at CAV had better reposition the breakable antiques on the shelves. Dexter is a hurricane -- vamping, coaxing, and belting a variety of blues and jazz and Broadway standards. New York Times comparisons have linked hers to the spirit of Sarah Vaughn. Girlfriend, they'd better mean it when they start talkin' crazy like that. Thing is, after a few spins of Big, Bad & Blue Livethe comparison doesn't sound far-fetched. Don't let the humor coursing through her show minimize her seriousness about the music she obviously loves. Don't think the pain she sings about is someone else's, either. This talented woman will be heard. Count on it.