| |
Charles (Chuck) Lipp, bassoonist/composer, was one of the original coterie around Herbert Brun at the University of Illinois in the early 1970's. I recall many Saturday evening gatherings at his house consisting of music and conversation.
Charles tends to have a gruff air about him, which masks a dry and entertaining wit. He brusquely signs his emails 'LIPP' with no other leave-taking. In writing to him I would address him with any of his three names, depending on the tone I wished to convey: CHARLES was used as an address of seriousness and respect, CHUCK in more playful mode, and LIPP to poke gentle fun at his perceived pompousness.
(Regrettably, he has been plagued with the effects of Parkinson's these last couple of years, to the extent that his playing career was threatened. Thankfully, medication seems to have reversed these ravages.)
In mid-February 2003, CHARLES (or was it CHUCK?) graciously and generously sent me two CD's - one containing performances of his compositions, the other his performances of various friends' bassoon pieces. On 4 March I received the following dismissive missive:
Hey Ted, I guess you have the CDs I sent by now. So of course I jump to the conclusion that hearing my stuff is the reason you haven't written -- especially after our email-a-day pattern of late. lipp
So of course I had to quickly 'pen' the following reply.
And, while this is a full-fledged letter, I sent it by email: clearly, it seemed imperative that Chuck receive it posthaste!
|
Letter to Lipp
5 March 2003
Poor Charles! I'm sorry I haven't responded to your very kind gifts of the two CD's (which, indeed, I did receive, and thank you.)
But Charles - what a silly conclusion you reached - and one that seems to be born out of a much more fragile ego than I'd ever thought you had!
The plain fact is, it takes me a lot longer to do anything these days. Ask Kowalski, who waited MONTHS for a response after graciously sending me his first opera CD.
Yes, silence can be cruel: I know the feeling myself (I frankly dub it 'paranoia' - though that don't mean they ain't out to get ya!) when no response comes back - EVER -to something I sent.
Ah well - you can relax, Chuck, and breathe a sigh of relief. I did listen to your 'Charles Lipp Bassoonist - Composer' CD, some of it several times (yes, Herbert, there IS that much information content there.) I haven't sampled the other disc yet (I especially want to hear your teacher's piece.)
Yes, Charles, and in listening, you'll be gratified to learn, I experienced the whole gamut of suitable emotions, from Admiration to Envy to Jealousy. (Did you ever wonder why that word contains the word 'lousy'?) But not really any of the latter, quite frankly: I think I mainly felt HAPPY FOR YOU - happy that you have managed to remain so productive, so creative, both as bassoonist and as composer in the decades since we first met. It's the sort of creative life that I would have loved to have had for myself - had circumstances and, quite frankly, my temperament been different.
Anyhow, I tended to go back and listen again (but is there ever an 'again'? Isn't the next time we listen different precisely because we heard it before?) to selected pieces of yours - as well as Herbert's TRIO. So I'll just make a few brief comments on some of these:
I like the DUO FOR SAXOPHONE AND PERCUSSION. One reason is, that it got me looking closely and thinking on the whole subject of 'duo' or 'duet', viz: Are they playing together in the sense of a collusion - or are they just accidentally 'together' because they play at the same time? Is one reacting to the other - or are they oblivious to one another? Do they merge at crucial moments (the overtones of the sax swallowed into those of the cymbals) in a divine (diabolical?) union - or is it but an accident of time and acoustics? There is much to ask myself & to look for in this piece which has no easy answers, and for this I must compliment you greatly.
(Am I doing all right so far, Charles? Am I soothing the Lippian Soul? Am I - ATONING - for my silence?) (By contrast, then, does one TONE for one's noise?)
Moving on to DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR (as if I haven't been delusional all along!), I liked the way the two utterly contrasting sections (vibes/pitched vs. drums) are merged in the third section. Again, I was wont to listen again to see just how that unholy alliance grew out of the two separate parts.
On the other hand, I admired THE GLASS KEY, among other reasons, simply because I have never been able to produce a viable piece in an electronic music studio, try as I might (somewhere at MIT is your piece.) And yes I know that 'The Glass Key' is a book by Dashiell Hammett.
RESTLESS SLEEPER intrigued me for its use of different sorts of hard mallets (some of which sounded like chimes hammers!) I wanted to hear it again, to compare motives and registers.
Your other pieces intrigued me too, but I need to hear them some more. While the IMPROVISATIONS were great fun to hear (and, I suspect, to produce.)
I need to listen to Herbert's piece some more too. One thing that struck me was the unison playing at the start: I wanted to account for that in what followed. After all, Herbert once told me, "If you ever use unison playing, there'd better be a good reason for it!" I never forgot that; and of course the climatic moment in para-DIDDLE owes its genesis to this pronouncement. (By the way, it's one of the most terrifying moments I know of in music.) And, again, this piece led me to question the notions of duo (and trio), of playing 'together', etc.
In short, Charles, what I have heard in this CD (which, by the way, seems utterly professional to me - no statement about 'production quality' seemed necessary) are the traces of a multifaceted creator, sometimes humorful, other times profound. I think that you have the right to feel justifiably proud of all that you have accomplished. I am a bit in awe, and in great admiration.
Best wishes,
Ted
|
|
|
|
