It is the year 2012. The end of the world as we know is fast approaching. Due to a rare planetary alignment, an unprecedented solar flare is heating up the Earth’s core to the point that the crust will destabilize. The ensuing seismic and volcanic activity followed by gigantic tsunamis are bound to wipe out all life from Earth. There is no way to stop the cataclysm. But there may be a way to weather it out. Or is there?

Roland Emmerich’s latest blockbuster is an apocalyptic movie in the vein of his other well-known productions, like Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow. Long, yet tenuous, 2012 offers front seats to one of the most incredible disasters depicted on screen. The computer graphics and the amazing cinematography blend seamlessly and are likely to captivate even the sternest audiences. Few movies have come close to depicting, in such brilliant colors and bold camera angles, the fury of nature unleashed. Human civilization and all of natural life are brought to their knees and then utterly destroyed in a glorious spectacle that is more awe-inspiring than horrifying.

Unfortunately, when compared to such outstanding graphic depiction of the disaster, mankind’s desperate struggle for survival appears secondary. Indeed, there is a plot where characters we are supposed to identify with are scrambling away and coming up with Biblical plans (ha! that almost gives it away, right?). However, the plotline never quite unfolds. The disaster is too neutral and perfect to contend with. On the one hand, there is no real villain. In Independence Day, there were the aliens. In The Day After Tomorrow, mankind itself, especially highly developed countries were being pointed at for causing the climate changes that led to the disaster.

However, in 2012 there is no one at fault. The planetary disaster just happens — impartial and immovable like the laws of physics. In addition, the choice of protagonists doesn’t contribute to delivering the plot. While they realistically depict our society with all its rotten pragmatism and whimsical squabbles, they fail to convey the reasons for which they should be alive by the end of the movie. There is barely any love, any emotion.

Unlike other disaster movies, such as Armageddon or even Titanic, which are heavily drenched in sentimentalism to keep the audiences engaged (the feeble hearted ones, at least), 2012 maintains a rather distant emotional perspective. Although it surely sets a record for the casualty count, 2012 fails to make us empathize with it. Most dying people feel serene, almost happy to be done with. Those who do fight, have usually so little screen time that we barely acknowledge them. I wonder if Emmerich tried to make a point in not indulging in any sappiness or simply failed at it. In all its glorious 2 hours and 45 minutes, 2012 can barely squeeze a few tears, with some of the very few incongruous and awkwardly placed romantic scenes.

Despite the shortcomings of the script, the cast does a decent job in bringing to their (often short) life the characters of the movie. John Cusack’s portrayal of the aloof writer caring for his divorced wife and children is quite believable. Amanda Peet in the role of the divorced wife is less impressive. An exciting performance by Chiwetel Ejiofor as one of the scientists that predicts the disaster will surely give all scientists and especially geologists a field day. But then again, all disaster movies do. Other notable presences are Thandie Newton and Danny Glover, but their screen time is disappointingly short.

Despite its cataclysmic premise, 2012 develops some internal humor. Some of the funny overtones are cleverly woven in, playing especially on social and ethnic stereotypes. Other funny moments are probably unintentional, derived from the unlikely heroics of the protagonists. However, these light-hearted moments will most likely play the biggest role in keeping you entertained to the end. Despite failing to be a masterpiece, 2012 is nevertheless the ultimate apocalypse movie and may be worth a Blockbuster rental.

Emotionally, physically, and sexually abused by both her mother and father, Clareece “Precious” Jones is born into a life that no one would ever want to be born into. As the terribly child-like and misspelled opening credits scrawl across the screen, it’s difficult not to gasp at the horror of her illiteracy. “Who let this happen?” you ask. “Who could possibly be so heartless?”

If you haven’t heard of Precious, a Lee Daniels’ film based on the novel Push by Sapphire, then you should check it out. It was in the Official Selection at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival, won three awards at Sundance, and won the Audience Award at the Toronto Film Festival. As Oprah Winfrey put it, the film “split [her] open.” And I have to say, I mostly agree.

Precious (played by new actress Gabourey Sidibe) is a sixteen-year-old African American girl who managed to make it to the 9th grade without the ability to read or write beyond her own name. She is morbidly obese and seemingly apathetic towards life. But as we soon see, the characters in this film are shaped by circumstance and abuse. At home in Harlem, Precious is subject to both physical and verbal violence by her mother Mary (Mo’Nique). Mary is lazy and cruel, living off welfare and forcing her daughter to wait on her hand and foot. The only time Precious ever sees her father is when he rapes her − resulting in two children by the age of seventeen. Her mother blames her for the rape, calling her worthless and stupid.

At school, Precious is a case that the education system just passes by. She sits at the back, doesn’t speak, and doesn’t let on how poor her reading capabilities really are. When offered the chance to transfer to an alternative school, Each One/Teach One, Precious seizes the opportunity, despite her mother’s rants that she’s too dumb for school and ought to just go on “the welfare.”

What’s so likable about Precious as a character is her resilience. She dreams of being famous and loved, perks up when she talks about math, her favorite subject, and puts on makeup to go to school. Her childish hopes stand in the face of everyone that pushes her down, though she only lets her real self through to her caring and patient teacher, Ms. Rain (Paula Patton).

The acting in Precious is phenomenal. Precious gives a stunning performance in a difficult part, subtly revealing her character’s vibrant interior through the shell of indifference that she shows the world. Mo’Nique, as Mary, is show-stopping as a hateful, ruthless woman who herself has suffered at the hands of her husband; her performance is Oscar-worthy. Patton (Ms. Rain) is absolutely beautiful, both in her passion as a teacher and in her genuine love for Precious, while social worker Mrs. Weiss − played excellently by Mariah Carey − is realistically tough yet gentle-hearted. If you see this movie for nothing else, appreciate these actors’ efforts to bring this heart-breaking story to life on the screen.

Though I admire this film on many levels, I have to admit that the overall effect is not as powerful as I would’ve expected. Precious’ accomplishments seem somewhat glossed over, and even by the end of the film her hopes appear frustratingly futile against the obstacles still in her life. I left the theater more depressed than anything. On the one hand, I respect the rawness with which the filmmakers laid out her life, but on the other, I feel the film failed to reach the audience as profoundly as it could have.

This is one of those films that will impact every viewer in a different way. While I thought that overall the film fell short of its potential, I can’t overlook the marked honesty in its presentation. My best advice is to brace yourself, go to the theater, and judge Precious for yourself.

The Twilight scene is a cult. This is a fact. Granted, about 95 percent of the cult is female, so perhaps a “far-reaching fanbase” would be a more appropriate description. According to my friend, who did a headcount, out of the 196 viewers in my theater, there were only 12 male audience members.

You need to be in a particular mood to watch any of the Twilight movies. You need to be able to laugh about cheesy lines, somewhat bad acting, and have the capacity to withstand at least five girls around you ogle shamelessly at topless actors. When I dragged a few of my friends to the New Moon premiere, I justified to myself that I was only attending the premiere to relieve a week of stress by tapping into my inner teenybopper. What I didn’t expect to do was squeal along with the legions of other college girls.

The bulk of the book is devoted to Bella coping with the absence of Edward (and really, it’s probably harder for the fervent fangirls to cope with his absence), and she is able to slowly recuperate through the aid of Jacob Black, her younger Quileute Indian friend. While most fans of the book series regard New Moon as one of the worst in the quartet because the brooding lead male is missing for roughly 400 pages, the film is able to convert more than a few passionate Team Edward fans to Team Jacob fans.

Knowing the lukewarm appreciation of fans for the second book, the director tried a little too hard to draw the audience in. While Edward was all enigma, post-cordially rumpled hair and lascivious gazes in the first film, the gaunt-faced immortal only appears in the beginning and ending twenty minutes of New Moon. While many fans of the pasty-faced vampire may wail, fear not. If you are nondiscriminatory in your appreciation for good-looking boys, do not turn away so quickly. Taylor Lautner was able to reprise the role of Jacob only after he promised to work out extensively because the director believed that he wasn’t “strong-looking enough” for New Moon. Jacob Black is supposedly the pillar of both emotional and physical support for Bella when an incident causes Edward to depart. Lautner has bulked up for the role, resulting in perfectly toned abs and alarming biceps — a sight that the director never fails to capitalize on.

The predicted shift in numbers from Team Edward to Team Jacob lies in the sheer contrast of the characters as portrayed on screen. While in the book Jacob can be relegated to being the cute but obnoxious younger boy who follows you around like a lost puppy, Taylor Lautner is able to bring to Jacob a depth that was never fully explored in the book. Because Stephanie Meyer’s quartet always returned to the epic love story between Bella and Edward, no matter how adoring or toned Bella’s admirer Jacob is, he never stood a chance against Bella’s steadfast devotion to Edward.

In the film rendition of New Moon, Jacob gives Edward a run for his money. Whereas Edward’s brief scenes comprise of only furrowed eyebrows, anguished pursed lips and sighs of a Shakespearean Hamlet, Jacob is a completely different story. With the generous amount of screen time allocated to Lautner, he is able to ensnare the audience with his portrayal of Jacob Black. Warm, sincere, and struck with an innocent love for Bella, Jacob has the capacity to wrench hearts with his soulful brown eyes. The fact that the boy also possesses a pinup-worthy body doesn’t hurt either. Lautner’s performance allows me to believe that he is a promising young actor and New Moon has only pushed him into the realm of celebrity-dom faster.

While Edward’s departure from Bella is a bit rushed, I think the director should be condemned more for his amateur transitions. To show the passage of time in Edward’s absence, Bella is huddled in front of her bedroom window overlayed with floating text of the month. The CGI is terrible, action scenes are all slowed down to the point of being ridiculously contrived, and the cinematography is mediocre at best. I can understand the poor action scenes — we all know that Twilight isn’t exactly the Matrix series. However, since it is not, stop trying to emulate action films. It only cheapens those parts more and underscores the directors’ negligence for the fighting scenes.

Ultimately, New Moon is able to pull through. Little moments throughout the film make it so much more enjoyable. For instance, Dakota Fanning has a brief cameo. With her sleekly swept chignon and charcoal-darkened eyes, Fanning leaves a lasting impression despite her sparse screen time. Also be sure to brace yourself for the scenes where Jacob unceremoniously takes off his shirt. The loud squeals will remind you again that you are watching a B-rated film with the likes of teenyboppers (in both mind and age).

An anxious group exited the Symphony T stop at the Green Line, bee lining to the greeters at the door of Symphony Hall. Exactly at 8:03 p.m., the symphony finished tuning and welcomed the rushed audience with a sweet poem: “Pastorale d’été,” a symphonic poem by Arthur Honegger. Honnegger’s style in “Pastorale d’été,” generally associated with the 1920s avant-garde, contrasts with his peers’ — coined the “Groupe des Six” — in that Honegger believed that the new era of music resulted from transitioning from the traditional, as opposed to cleanly breaking away. He embraced the value in balance and virtue, which is exhibited in “Pastorale d’été.” One flute, an oboe, a clarinet, a bassoon, a horn, and strings create a lyrical song of a pleasant summer day in the fields.

The melodious “Pastorale d’été” prepared the audience for the true treat of the evening: 21-year-old French piano soloist Lise de la Salle. De la Salle has toured extensively — including performances in Paris, London, the Lucerne Festival Piano Series, Stuttgart, Copenhagen, Luxemburg, Munich, and Berlin. Furthermore, two of her recordings have been awarded Gramophone’s “Recording of the Month.” She has also been featured in Vanity Fair Germany. De la Salle began playing the piano at age 4 and at age 13, made her debut in Avignon and Paris. She then began her impressive career at that age by touring with the Orchestre National d’Ile de France. More information on de la Salle is available at www.lisedelasalle.com.

She performed Saint-Saëns’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, Opus 22 — a significant performance; Saint-Saëns’s final performance of the piece in 1906 was also with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Paralleling Saint-Saëns’s mastery of technique, de la Salle impressed the audience with the deft and lucid finger work that the piece required. All three movements of the piece, although each colored by their own tone, calls for intense focus and concentration. The final Presto movement required constant movement up and down the keyboard. In contrast to the somewhat playful air of Saint-Saëns’s piano concerto, the lasting impression left by the quality of Lise de la Salle’s performance and talent characterized the evening. After her performance, the audience’s applause forced de la Salle to return to the stage three separate times. Every time, la Salle humbly accepted the praise.

The second half of the evening was less remarkable. The full symphony performed “Petrushka,” by Igor Stravinsky. The piece seemed incomplete; the scenery, dancers, and sets were missed for this ballet score. The audience was at best mildly enthusiastic towards the performance.

The Boston Symphony Orchestra continues its 2009–2010 season with a performance featuring Sir James Galway, the Women of the Tanglewood Festival Choir, and John Oliver as the conductor. This performance will take place November 19–21. Other artists for this season include Joshua Bell, Yo-Yo Ma, and Frank Peter Zimmerman. For interested students, there is also an open rehearsal, usually on the Wednesday evening before the performances, with reduced priced tickets. View the Boston Symphony Orchestra website — bso.org — for more information.

Have you ever seen an eight-year-old child headbanging? Ever had a bearded, screaming stranger claim that he could be your own personal therapist? Ever seen an eleven-year-old wearing a shirt declaring that “The All-American Rejects Are Really Good Looking”? If so, you probably need professional help, but you might also have attended Taking Back Sunday and the All-American Rejects’ concert at the intimate Showcase Live last week.

After missing the first opening act, Anberlin, due to a GPS-related disaster, my intrepid photographer and I found ourselves at the Showcase Live in Foxboro. We arrived just as the second opener, Taking Back Sunday, stormed the stage amidst an ear-crunching cacophony of adolescent screaming. The band jumped right into a brief but excellent set, featuring a number of solid rock songs, and their music was really excellent. The “emo” style of screaming which is so obnoxious when heard on a recording is considerably more manageable in a live setting, and their sound was much heavier and fuller than I had expected. Virtually all aspects of Taking Back Sunday’s too-brief set were great, and I was extremely impressed.

Demographically, the concert was essentially identical to the premier of one of the “Twilight” movies, proving once again that electric guitars and cheesily sensitive lyrics have powerful effects on the youth of America. Unsurprisingly, a large contingent of the audience were almost certainly parents, although it was amusing to imagine that a large group of 50-somethings with beer-bellies were extremely moved by the lyrics “The notes are old / They bend they fold / And so do I to a new love.”

It was also great to see a small number of real, living, emo kids in attendance, as going to a Taking Back Sunday concert and not seeing an emo kid is like going to a hockey game and not seeing a fistfight: you may still have a good time, but you’re really missing some of the key experiences. Having the opportunity to see some live emo kids in Massachusetts was excellent, as I was able to witness some bondage pants, studded belts, and eyeliner junkies without having to deal with the chemical refineries, traffic conditions, and violent crimes which make trips to New Jersey (the emo kid’s natural habitat) such a pleasure.

After a brief break, the All-American Rejects took the stage. The arrival of their lead singer, the rail thin Tyson Ritter, created many more questions than it answered: “Is that guy covered in sweat, or so much glitter that it’s reflecting the stage lights? Did he steal his pants from a third grader? Is he auditioning for a UNICEF commercial, a B-list porno, or both?” Weighing in at a shirtless 85 lbs. and covered in a seizure-inducing heap of glitter, Ritter effortlessly slipped along the fine line between a 1984 Van Halen video and a PSA on the dangers of anorexia. Additionally, his strange appearance and bizarre mannerisms (namely, hip thrusting at a bunch of clearly adoring high-schoolers while calling them “naughty girls”) managed to simultaneously channel both Michael Jackson and a heroin addict.

That said, I must admit that the Rejects’ music sounds far more substantial live than I had anticipated. I began the night expecting a Miley Cyruszian bonanza of horrifically auto-tuned abominations, and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of their music. While nowhere near as heavy as Taking Back Sunday, the All-American Rejects’ live guitar sounds seem to have at least partially escaped the commercial castration that only MTV can provide. Ritter did occasionally go off on bizarre yodeling solos, but he balanced these vocal histrionics with some solid performances, most notably the acoustic ballad “Mona Lisa,” which was actually quite a lovely song.

Overall, I would say that I enjoyed this evening at Showcase Live. While the amount of high school shrieking at the start and end of each song still reverberates in my ears like a demonic version of High School Musical, both bands certainly exceeded my expectations with regard to their music and delivered solid, enjoyable performances.

Taking Back Sunday guitarist and backup vocalist Matthew Fazzi took a minute to talk to The Tech about joining the band and the current tour.

The Tech: How did you end up playing with TBS? You joined the band fairly recently, how did that work out?

Matthew Fazzi: Eddie (Reyes, guitarist) was actually a fan of my previous band, I met him on the 2004 Warped Tour with my band Facing New York. I just met Eddie, showed him our band, he really liked it and we just kind of became friends like that. Eventually they took us out in 2006, and when (Fred Mascherino) quit the band I just got a text from Eddie asking if I wanted to audition, so it was very cosmic, weird, and awesome. I owe a lot to Eddie for giving me the opportunity.

TT: Were you a fan of Taking Back Sunday before you joined?

MF: For sure. That’s how I was kind of able to recognize Eddie, I knew a whole lot about them: They had just put out “Where You Want to Be” and they were one of the biggest bands of the moment, and at Warped Tour they were one of the largest bands that year. So I was definitely a fan of their band, I had both of their records at the time, so it was definitely an easy transition for me. When I joined I knew all of the songs already so everything became like, cake, you know.

TT: Were you hazed mercilessly when you joined, or was it more of a smooth transition?

MF: (Laughs) Not at all, actually. We were actually just talking about that because one of my best friends, Isaac, was in a similar situation and there’s been little to no hazing of us whatsoever, I think because we’re such laid-back California kids they don’t have the heart to come down on us hard at all.

TT: Is it interesting to make the transition from being in a smaller band supporting other bands to being in Taking Back Sunday and having other bands support your own tour?

MF: It’s a trip out, dude. I’ve been doing a lot of band touring and playing for no one for 6 or 7 years, and to go from that extreme of playing in front of two people that don’t care to playing in front of 20,000 is just such a trip out, it’s the coolest thing in the world, and it’s something that I hope I don’t take for granted for even one second. I know that I’m super fortunate to be in the position that I’m in and the position that we’re in, especially in these times with the economy and people just not buying music anymore, but luckily Taking Back Sunday is doing well. I mean dude, everything is a privilege and it’s the raddest job in the world and I couldn’t complain or ask for a better dream job.

TT: What’s the most insane thing that you’ve ever seen on tour, either with your own band or with Taking Back Sunday?

MF: Man, I don’t know, that’s like one of those questions where when you get the question your mind goes totally blank and you can’t think of anything cool. I’m sure the second I get off the phone I’ll think of something. The craziest thing for me is the size of some of the shows that we’ve played, playing in front of 50,000 or 60,000 people. That to me, is crazy. But I guess one crazy story is that we were playing Hartford for our May-June tour. It was the day that Michael Jackson died, so it was just a weird day, a weird vibe all around, and when we were headlining that night a kid got up on stage, and he must have been standing there for only about 2 seconds. I’m also going to preface this by saying that this kid was maybe 5’7”, 150 lbs., so a really average, to smaller than average kid. So he gets on stage for all of two seconds, and the biggest, burliest, football playing security guy just runs across the stage and destroys this kid. Tackles him like he’s playing in the NFL. For sure if you go search on Youtube you’ll find it somewhere. It all happened in slow motion to me. I don’t know if you ever watched wrestling when you were younger, but that move that that Austin bald guy would do, where he runs all the way across from the other side and just nails you, that’s what this guy did. Imagine a guy who’s like 6’5”, 250, just pummeling the smallest kid in the world.

TT: Well you know that guy lives for that moment.

MF: Yeah, and you could see it in his eyes, he was just ready for that. He was just waiting to tackle the first person that he saw. But that’s the only thing that I can really think of (laughs). We don’t really get gnarly crazy things like people jumping and trying to steal our shoes or anything.

TT: What are your plans after this tour, what can we expect to hear from Taking Back Sunday coming up?

MF: We put out a live record last week, it’s the first legitimate live thing that we’ve done that really encompasses all four records. So that’s kind of new and I really encourage people to check that out. Otherwise we have another month to go on this tour and we have a few secret things that we have planned, and after that we’re going to Australia. We’d also talked about trying to do some sort of acoustic thing, so that’s sort of in the mix somewhere. But for the immediate feature it’s just getting through this tour and taking a break for a second.

Art is a sensual experience in each of its forms.

Paying a visit to a contemporary museum, to the opera, or to a particularly exquisite bistro never fails to herald the breathtaking beauty that our senses can create and detect. Who hasn’t stood in awe before a Monet, shed a tear during Madame Butterfly, or furrowed a brow before an exotic dish? The senses are the ultimate medium through which we experience the joy of life.

Often a bystander to the mental perception of art, scent is (quite ironically) the most deeply corporeal and imaginative of all the senses. This most precise ability permits us to detect the sharp hint of citrus, the questionably musty signature of a city street, or the musk romanticism of an Oriental spice. What better medium to express the natural beauty of scent than through perfume?

The art of creating a perfume begins in a cosmetic chemist’s laboratory, mixing together an enticing blend of molecules. Synthetics (molecules created in a lab) and absolutes (aromatic, oily mixtures extracted from plants) together can yield an infinite spectrum of scents. Perfumers work to create a scent that expresses the vision of their clients, whether that inspiration be a city, a painting, an experience, or an instance in time.

In order to better understand the world of perfume, I had the opportunity to speak with one of the world’s premiere experts on the subject: Chandler Burr. Burr, who writes the “Scent Notes” column of The New York Times, has written several books about perfume, the theory of scent, and the industry that brings them together. He is known for the unique means through which he conveys the nature of perfume, through descriptions as exotic, interactive, tactile, and engrossing as the scents themselves.

The Tech: What is your favorite part of your work?

Chandler Burr: Writing the reviews — which is a very strange answer. I’m pretty sure it was Dorothy Parker who said, “I hate to write, I love having written,” but this is the only case in which I love the actual act of siting, thinking, and the fingers hitting they keys. I’m completely absorbed in it. This is because, I think, art criticism is a completely different kind of writing than any other.

TT: How would you describe the appeal of perfume to an individual unfamiliar with its intricacies?

CB: Several ways. One, I’ve discovered, is simply communicating to the reader the oh so astonishing idea that perfume is an artistic medium. (“Huh! Hm! Uh … yeah, I’ve never thought of it like that.”) Then the fact that, just as a painter uses paints to compose a painting, perfumers use raw materials, absolutes, synthetic molecules, to create their olfactory paintings. And then simply describe the olfactory work of art and what it makes you feel, how well or poorly it’s executed and why. Do it well, and anyone can get it.

TT: One of your books, The Emperor of Scent, discusses Luca Turin’s vibration theory of olfaction. What inspired you to write about this subject?

CB: The absolutely fascinating story, exactly the same thing any reporter is looking for. Luca is a genius, and it’s interesting to spend time with a genius, and he’s got a huge, wonderful, difficult, open, generous, vindictive, explosive, startling, compelling personality. The story of what he’s done and, equally, what he’s been through mesmerized me. The book is, as all good books are, in the end about a human life and its vicissitudes and challenges and triumphs and dark places.

TT: Your work as the New York Times’ perfume critic is very much a balance between creativity, precision, and originality. Which do you feel is most important when creating and marketing a perfume?

CB: You’re asking me a question the second part of which is officially outside my purview — I’m not a perfume industry exec — but creating is artistic vision, creativity, the willingness to do something different, the wisdom to know where to stop doing something different, and money, money, money. Let the perfumer put the raw materials he needs into the juice. Launch: There are many, many, many perfectly good stock bottles. For God’s sake, choose the right one and modify it as needed and be done with it. This does not pertain to Britney Spears, where you need those cartoon-like Disney-deep-purple globes with the fake diamonds, and even their “Midnight Fantasy” is a good juice. The packaging is, I’m sorry to say, important, but less is more. Then comes the most important part, and the industry doesn’t have a clue how to do this: cut all the coy, cutesy secretive crap — it’s as insanely tiresome as it is pettily irritating and makes you want to roll your eyes and hurl the bottle into the nearest trash can — and let reporters know how the creation worked with the real people who created it. Not following some moronic marketing script. But that’s not going to happen any time soon. The synthetic, faked marketing “story” which is in fact nothing more than the same superficial “There’s a sexy powerful woman” or “There’s a sexy man who’s being watched hungrily by women” or the reverse. Ech.

TT: What do you feel is the most exciting implication that your work may have?

CB: I am lucky enough to be in a position to propose to the world this startling idea that there’s an art form they never knew about.

TT: What topics or ideas are you currently researching?

CB: I’m trying to find a subject for my spring 2010 T:Style Women piece. Not easy.

The Boston Choral Ensemble prepares for its 2009–2010 season featuring Thomas Jennefelt’s Villarosa Sequences on Friday, November 20 at First Church in Cambridge and Sunday, November 22 at Old South Church in Boston. The Tech interviewed conductor Miguel Felipe about the upcoming program. More information about this performance and the Boston Choral Ensemble can be found at http://www.bostonchoral.org/

The Tech: The Boston Choral Ensemble (BCE) has a very specific mission statement. Could you tell me more about that?

Miguel Felipe: BCE is was founded about nine years ago; I’ve been here for six years and as part of my own musical evolution — and therefore that of the group’s — was to move towards a group that’s dedicated to exploring musics of all genres and time periods and in ways that draw the connections and, not so overtly, demonstrate the relevancies, and the connection to daily life. Now we’re a group of around 32 who are interested in innovative performance style and bringing music to people in a way that they aren’t going to traditionally hear it.

TT: What do you look for when you’re listening to a piece of music?

MF: First things first (and if it doesn’t meet this characteristic, it’s enough to altogether skip the piece), it needs to be written with a strong sense of the voice and it needs to be well-crafted. We’re not talking about genius right now, we’re talking about competence. If the composer’s music doesn’t lie well for the voice, I’m not interested. That’s not to say that I’m not interested in difficult pieces; difficulty is, by no means, a reason to pass over a piece. But there has to be some sense that the singer will be gratified and be able to enjoy performing the piece. Occasionally, texts are what draw me into a piece, but by no means is that a defining characteristic. For instance, this upcoming concert there are no texts, and that’s not an issue.

TT: I guess this is a good segue into the Villarosa Sequences. When you first heard the work, what was something that grabbed you?

MF: I remember the very moment I first heard it — I was in a city in Northern Indonesia for a conference, called Manado: we were in a rehearsal room, a conference room, that there was a choir trying out some of their repertoire. And I wanted to go see how they were. And as I walked in, the women were working on their movement, the Virita criosa. I was just a casual observer, I had no idea what was going on, listening to them perform it, I thought, “Oh my God! What is this?” It’s not quite like anything you’ve ever heard. I was immediately compelled. That night, they did at least one or two other movements, I do know that they did Claviante brilioso, which is, perhaps, one of the most enjoyable movements of the whole thing. And after hearing the two, I spoke with the conductor, and I since made contact with the composer and a number of commissioner of the movements and things went from there.

TT: Let’s go ahead and talk about the piece; one word that really comes to mind when you think about the Villarosa Sequences is an extreme sense of “minimalism” — am I wrong in saying that?

MF: Certainly, one hears much of that in Villarosa, that there is a sense of minimalism. Indeed, there is much repetition, a steady pulse, largely diatonic pitches and relatively ‘minimal’ means. So it is of the minimalist strain, but perhaps one could call it post-minimalist. Perhaps unlike other minimalist examples, there is this great amount of expressiveness that you don’t hear in the minimalism of the ’70s or the ’80s. There are moments when the sopranos are singing their hearts out on beautiful, lyrical melodies, or the baritones have a sweeping gesture that’s almost a Romantic feeling.

TT: What would you listen for, as an audience member, when you’re first coming to this work?

MF: Well, it sounds a bit like trance music — something that came out of the 1980s New York club scene, the popular brother of minimalist music, which is the concert-hall brother of trance. So people who are more well-versed with popular music (let alone with trance) can come to this and feel more at home than with the traditional Germanic 19th century Romantic situation. When I listen to minimalist music, the first thing I do is to try and get into the “groove” — that constant, steady, rhythmic “groove” — and to me, that’s actually quite beautiful, and I connect quite well with that steady “groove.”

TT: How does BCE’s mission statement fit in with this concert in particular?

MF: BCE is constantly focused on bringing what we think is good music to people and trying to illustrate why it’s important, beautiful and relevant. In my estimation, we have a wonderful ensemble that could pull off the motets of Bach so well, could do Brahms, could do so much that, and quite honestly, audiences would come out for in droves. I think that, in Boston, there are already quite a number of groups that are fantastic at doing those. But there’s also a need for people pushing the envelope forward; we hope to be part of that necessary dialog just as other groups focus on some of the more canonical repertoire. They’re establishing what’s culturally central; we’re trying to suggest where that culture is going.

What is God? The question begs an answer for which generations of human beings have waged war against one another to prove themselves correct. And yet, the answer is still out there, waiting for the reconciliation between beliefs before making a universal debut.

Meanwhile, the world is in chaos. Does it make any sense that those who claim to love God would get on an airplane and fly themselves into a building while taking thousands of innocents’ lives? Does it make any sense for the leader of a free nation to embark upon war because God told him to? Does it make sense that God would cause the world so much suffering and turmoil on his behalf? One man, impatient in waiting for religious reconciliation and tired of the childish bickering between religions has taken it upon himself to find the answer.

The documentary and political commentary Oh My God! is the video journal of director Peter Rodger which details his discoveries through the entire voyage of finding the answer to his question, “What is God?” His quest has taken him on a 3 year journey through 23 countries from the Plains of America to the temples of Little Tibet, from the small communities of the Aboriginals to the South American jungles, from the disaster-devastated New Orleans to the high ridges of the Himalayans. While watching the documentary, the audience is given the chance to meet Rabbis, Priests, Buddhist Llamas, Muslim radicals, Christian fundamentalists, famous people, and ordinary men and women from around the world, and hear their answer to Rodger’s simple question.

The results of Rodger’s journey is at the same time predictable and surprising. Between stunningly scenic backgrounds of the wilderness and close-ups of people embodying diverse cultures and religions, Rogers’s passion for finding an answer proves that even though each religion has different rules, their concept of God is one and the same: God is love. One of the most memorable comments about God and faith came from Hugh Jackman: “If you put Buddha, Jesus Christ, Socrates, Shakespeare, Arjuna and Krishna at a dinner table together, I can’t see them having any argument.” The film also displays atheism and reasons for being an atheist. Sir Bob Geldof thinks that the entire concept of a supreme being is “rubbish.” “Why are you looking for an answer?” Some believe that the concept of God was created so that people could feel better about themselves. After all, when something bad happens, who do we blame it on?

Oh My God!, released on November 13, is a worthwhile investment, even if you have no opinion about religion. This is more than a commentary on faith; it is more of a description of how the world has survived the human race and the happy realization that there is still hope for reconciliation.

Peter Rodger is an award-winning British director whose unique photo-imagery craftsmanship makes him one of the most sought-after artists in the British and American advertisement industry. Oh My God! is the three year, life-changing non-fiction film that explored peoples’ perspectives about God which debuted on November 13.

The Tech: On the Oh My God! website you wrote in the director’s statement that you wanted to travel around the world to 23 countries and ask what people thought about God because you were fed up with people fighting in the name of God. But what is the one definitive thing that made you finally decide to go on your quest?

Peter Roger: I was going up a ski lift in Utah in 2006. Something happens to you when you’re in a beautiful space. I was on a ski lift and I was thinking about wanting to reconnect with the world, and I thought what is one thing that I can do to help me to do that? I didn’t want to go back to advertising. I thought that if I ask people on a base level about what they thought about God and not just political leaders, then I can get something concrete. Some people may call this an epiphany but I don’t think this is the right word to describe it. The idea to shoot this documentary was born out of frustration and born out of desire to travel.

TT: How did your idea transform into a documentary? Which came first, the desire to shoot a documentary or the desire to find out what people thought about God?

PR: The desire of filming a documentary first; I wanted to make stories with my camera and capture the world with a photographic image. I was the son of a famous photojournalist George Rodger who was a founder of Magnum Photos. I was motivated by a visual desire to use what I was taught through my heritage. I was taught at a very young age to use light cameras to capture the world; what I was taught was “how to learn how to see.” You have to organically experience something to really see it. This ideology of anthropological study through camera lens came from that.

TT: What was your goal in going around the world to ask that question? What do you hope to accomplish by producing this documentary?

PR: My thought was to educate. My frustration comes from the result of what I believe is people using the name of God to manipulate the ignorant. What I want to do is to explore the entity that is God from an objective point of view. The motivation of it was to educate so that we can understand others’ points of view and realize the similarities that humans have with each other. Most of the time, the issue of religion is easily bigoted. The ideas that argue “my God is better than your God” are politicized statements. Some people may not have had the opportunity to make up their own minds. Out of learning what people think God is, perhaps we can learn to have an actual argument or discussion about it. For the most part, we are all the same — we all have two arms, two legs, and a kidney, you know — but we like to push others away even though we’re similar. We can learn something about our neighbors and find that we are much more united than we are divided. Hopefully this documentary will lead to some sort of tolerance.

TT: When you were filming, were you afraid that the documentary will be sort of hit or miss? Were you worried that some people are just too intolerant to appreciate the film?

PR: The answer is very simple. There’s a subplot that’s going on here. The film is ultimately about faith. Faith is the one thing that can kill fear. Yet it’s so divided. So I was constantly fearful I was doing something that people are too self-righteous to approach. My hope and faith tells me I shouldn’t worry and that I should let go. I should just focus on my journey. The reality is, though, I don’t know where the journey ends. However, faith tells me that if I’m doing something good and something that’s strong, I shouldn’t have to worry about people not accepting it. Here is something that describes the embodiment of what I wanted to achieve: Jihad Turk, director of religious affairs at the Islamic Center of Southern California who was in the film, organized people from the mosque to attend the film premiere on Saturday night. They bought tickets and invited me to meet with a group of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim community to discuss the film. We all talked about our similarities; it was the most wonderful evening that I’ve experienced. Their concept of faith is so simple. They realized that their Prophets are all preaching the same things. The film bringing together these people to discuss the topic of God peacefully is a great reward for me personally.

TT: Can you tell me a little about the people that you interviewed and something that surprised you about them?

PR: What I did was I went to different countries and I found anchor points, like people I knew I would get at a certain time. Like if I was going to India I would go see person X or person Y. I would let the conversation of that person take me to the next person. At end of film when, I was in a children’s cancer ward. The most surprising and most rewarding event for me was when I asked a young child about facing death. His answer was so selfless and strong and emotional.

TT: Compare how you viewed God before and after the film; did your perception change? How?

PR: Before, I really didn’t think about it much, but after I thought about it a lot. I was brought up as a follower of the Anglican Church of England. But I diverged from religion. After filming the documentary, I found the topic of God to be less complicated to the nth degree. Basically, you are born, you live, and you die. What is important is what we do as individuals during the time. There’s a wonderful bond within humanity. Some people say that God is the energy that binds us together. We, as individuals, have much more power to change the world to be a better place than just being sheep. If each of us does one kind act to another each day, the world would be a better place. I learned that responsibility lies with the individual and not with a group.

TT: In the film, you brought up that maybe man created God instead of the other way around. What do you think about that question? Have any comments?

PR: We both created each other. God is a word that describes something that describes we can’t actually comprehend. God is self perpetuating. People try to compartmentalize God and try to divide this word up to small regions. God makes us stick together and push away from each other. God is the very essence of life, the reason that we’re here. But it’s also a word that people use to describe their version of reality. Man created God and God created man at the same time because we’re all Gods in a sense.

TT: After watching the film, I thought that the overall notion of what God is is almost a consensus: love, goodness, hope, etc. If that’s the case, how can there be so much suffering?

PR: On my journey, I met Zen Master Kanju Tanaka from Kyoto, Japan; he denies existence because he believes we’re already in paradise. What we have around us is paradisiacal and it’s our responsibility to understand it. Those who are struggling have to change their perception; what they must not do is get really angry. They must shift their minds and look at life in a different perceptive. You control how happy you are.

TT: That’s a mind boggling concept to grasp.

PR: If you can turn around the very thing that makes you depressed, you will be happy. Isn’t that what the balance of life is? You can not be happy without being sad; you can’t be happy all the time.

TT: On your journey have you met any who would refuse to answer your questions? Or have you met any who is unable to answer your questions?

PR: Neither. They all had their own perception of God. Once you get your camera on, they all have something to say.

TT: Okay, final question; in no more than two sentences, what is God?

PR: [Laughter] God is my inner self and God is everyone else’s inner self at the same time, and God is the very truth and the battery that makes everything exist. God is also the reservoir that holds every single thought that’s ever thought by anybody ever — anima mundi — and maybe also a reservoir for a thought that hasn’t yet occurred.

The sold out Paradise Rock Club filled up early in preparation for Tuesday night’s Concert. The youngish crowd, a veritable hipster-bingo board of plaid, alt-girl headbands, and greasy faux-hawks, could probably have contributed enough optical strength with their combined square-rimmed glasses to focus the death star. Similarly hip, the Brooklyn-based Dirty Projectors took the stage to crowd calls of “let’s get dirty!” and vigorously belted out their unique, soaring rock music.

Presenting an unusual mix of hi-fi and lo-fi production sounds on their studio work, I had no idea what to expect from this eclectic, experimental six-piece. With frequent — and beautiful — four-part vocal harmony set over ragged, spastic guitar bites, the Dirty Projectors have made a name for themselves recently as a band unafraid to try out new techniques or repossess older ideas and make them their own. This adventurous attitude can be seen in the breadth of their catalogue that spans the early release The Getty Address, an orchestral concept album about aging musician Don Henley, to the newer Rise Above, an album supposedly composed of Black Flag covers made entirely from the memory of Dirty Projectors frontman Dave Longstreth. (To wit: Longstreth holds his guitar backwards, plucking and picking with his left hand instead of his right. While one wouldn’t assume this to be immediately noticeable, it was surprisingly disconcerting.)

Playing songs almost entirely off their two most recent albums Rise Above and Bitte Orca, the Dirty Projectors played a set that closely resembled their studio sound. This is not an easy feat — after watching them live and comprehending that much of the scat-singing and electric-sounding background music on their albums is actually the three back-up singers creating well-pitched noises in perfect time with each other. This complex and impressive vocal-work was most apparent in their song “Remade Horizon.” Somehow, between the gunky, hollow-sounding guitar riffs and layered, scattered vocal accompaniment, the band more closely resembled an electrified and reverberated music box: each note plucked mechanically and separately on the little copper petals, but inexorably linked in time to the notes before it and after by the rotating wheel.

Throughout the first five songs, the band hemorrhaged members at an alarming rate, ceasing when only two band members remained. Changing gears slightly, Longstreth exchanged his electric guitar for an acoustic, and played “Two Doves” as a simple duet with Angel Deradoorian, one of the band’s several talented back-up singers. The band reunited for the next several songs, including one with an upright bass (“Spray Paint”) and another (“Thirsty and Miserable”) that ended in an almost Sonic Youth-esque guitar meltdown.

At most rock shows, one feels the music through the lower registers; the overly-amplified bass line has enough power to shake your body. This was not the case on Tuesday. The raw guitar, soaring vocal arrangements, and Longstreth’s own strong voice forced almost all of the band’s power into the upper registers, creating the odd consequence of actually feeling the tenor noise. That I experienced something musically new at a Dirty Projector’s concert should not be a surprise. Fearless, wide-ranging, and talented, if you want to know what’s next in rock music, listen to the Dirty Projector’s last album — if you want a vision of what rock music should be, listen to their most recent.

The MIT Musical Theater Guild opened their Side Show (book and lyrics by Bill Russell, music by Henry Krieger) last weekend, and in keeping with a long-standing sideshow tradition, offered an experience that was different and unforgettable. Of course, the metaphor collapses when you realize that, contrary to being the stuff of nightmares, MTG’s Side Show is not only enjoyable but is one of those rare musicals that elicits drama without resorting to character death (not that there’s anything wrong with that, Mr. Whedon) or deux ex machina.

Make no mistake, Side Show is not a comedy, so if you walk in expecting a happy ending, you may be surprised, although you’d have to be really, really attached to the missing sunshine and flowers to actually be disappointed with the show. It’s full-fledged drama through and through, with familiar themes like unrequited love and not-so-familiar themes like finding acceptance as a conjoined or “Siamese” twin.

The story of Side Show focuses on conjoined twins Violent and Daisy, played by Kimberly A. Brink ’10 and Rachel Coffin, respectively. The characters are written as brilliantly talented singers, and both Brink and Coffin are more than equal to the task. As far as I can tell, the pair’s vocal abilities are superb by any standards, professional or otherwise. In spite of not having brought along any of my Perfect-Pitch-O-Meter friends along when I saw it, I honestly doubt that even they could find any fault with either female lead. While on the subject, the orchestra pit also holds up well under constant pressure.

Side Show has the quirk of being almost entirely sung with little (if any) spoken dialogue, adding an extra challenge for the cast as well as for director Priscilla W. Army ’10. Army, in her first directorial position with the Musical Theater Guild, comes out strong, as the leads are also fairly phenomenal in their acting roles. Of course, it certainly doesn’t hurt that the juxtaposition of the main characters’ emotional arcs is hit-you-over-the-head literal in their side-by-side comparison. A special mention also goes to Carlos E. Cardenas ’09 as supporting character Joke. Cardenas, a staple of MTG shows for quite some time, not only sings and acts convincingly but leads one of the most exciting musical numbers in Act I, an upbeat, swingy affair that engages most of the ensemble.

Even though Side Show is a drama and consequently short on laughs, emotion and frills still run rich. In particular, the musical is set in the heyday of vaudeville, and the handful of vaudeville-esque musical numbers (featuring more puns on Siamese twins than you can shake two conjoined sticks at) feel authentic without being entirely corny. The only thing missing is a rendition of “Puttin’ On The Ritz,” and one number in Act II comes surprisingly close. It’s mild cheesiness in the name of realism, and it plays well.

Even taking into consideration that I went to the opening night showing, Side Show is not a perfect show. The vocal precision of some cast members sets a standard that not all can hold up, and if you’re not like me and tend not to get swept up in shows as easily as I do, the romantic plotlines might feel bland. That said, if you are like me, don’t be surprised if you find yourself on the brink of tears at any point during Act II. The drama runs high, as it tends to do with the subject of love, and the performers are solid. If that doesn’t convince you, I’ll word my recommendation as simply as I can — I’m thinking of seeing it a second time. Upcoming performances are tonight and tomorrow night at 8 p.m. in La Sala de Puerto Rico.

Looking a little like I’d imagine a Jedi-Elvis impersonator might, Nick Thorburn, (a.k.a. Nick T, formerly Nick Diamonds) lead singer of Islands and vanguard of the Montreal music scene, took the stage, and, with an aloofness characteristic of his interviews and performances, enchanted Wednesday’s audience.

The opener, Jemina Pearl, lead singer of the now defunct Be Your Own Pet, took her solo act on the road by finding three similarly garage-oriented musicians, and then pouring her voice over ineptly distorted punk chords. In my meaningless-but-mean opinion, the Middle East could have saved some cash and played a bootleg copy of any Sleater-Kinney album to similar effect.

The crowd, tall and eclectically composed of those there for Jemina Pearl and Islands, responded exuberantly to Thornburn’s equally eclectic oeuvre, exhibiting huge energy through the fast songs, and singing along to the slower, more meandering pieces from Island’s catalog. Playing all but two songs from their new album Vapours, the band members displayed easy confidence, even through the more electrically complicated songs that required looping and synthesizing.

Vapours follows the slightly disappointing second album Arm’s Way, but makes up for the brief regression by astounding listeners with a surprising array of musical styles, each executed differently, but uniquely Islands-esque. Built around guitar chords and heavily reliant on their ever-present synthesizer, Islands songs each explore a different rhythmic or melodic device, but rarely lose the more traditional indie-rock sound entirely. Fearing no musical risks, many of their most unexpected songs turn out to be their best. The ninth track of Vapours, “Heartbeat,” sounds like it was written by the illegitimate love-child of Nick T and one of the robots from Daft Punk — if that child had grabbed a handful of valium, crushed it, and snorted it through a party hat before composing. (Needless to say, it is currently the most played song on my computer.)

In addition to Vapours, Islands also played the two best songs off Arm’s Way and several off their groundbreaking first album Return to the Sea including the playful “Rough Gem,” the opaque “Where There’s a Will, There’s a Whalebone,” and the epic “Swans.” With unexpected instrumental aptitude, all three non-drumming members of the band proved capable of arming up an axe and whipping out cogent, compelling solos. Most surprising was Thorburn’s own live mastery. His pedal-tuned and lingering solo to close the concert’s encore left the crowd subdued and complacent as, with heads ringing from reverb, we climbed the stairs to the street.

While each song was beautifully executed, the set list was poorly constructed, and towards the end, a series of three slow songs (including the worst track from Vapours) left the crowd a little disengaged. Adding to the disengagement was Thorburn’s own disinterest, as he spoke approximately 25 words to the audience over the course of the evening.

So why listen to Islands? A. Nick Thorburn basically discovered The Arcade Fire! I’ll repeat that: he discovered the motherfucking Arcade Fire. B. He fronted the motherfucking Unicorns. C. He, like many people who are too afraid admit it in public, realizes that Vampire Weekend is terrible, and recently called them “inauthentic” and “frat-rock” in an interview. D. Islands, channeling musical influences from around the world and turning them into unique, approachable rock music, remains one of the few truly progressive independent bands out there. Try them out. You won’t be disappointed.

Conductor Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos led the Boston Symphony Orchestra to a fabulous performance in a sold-out program featuring Beethoven’s Symphony Nos. 1, 2 and 5.

This was the first concert in the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s The Complete Symphonies series featuring all of Beethoven’s symphonies over four episodes. Originally, BSO Music Director James Levine was scheduled to conduct every program of this series. However, he had to undergo back surgery earlier and was advised to refrain from conducting. Maestro Frühbeck de Burgos, currently chief conductor and artistic director of the Dresden Philharmonic, conducted the orchestra in the series premiere in place of Maestro Levine.

Maestro Frühbeck de Burgos was quite conservative in his interpretations. There were no fancy, whimsical tempo changes, and the tempi he chose made the music sound very deliberate. This is not a complaint; while the tempi were slightly on the slower side, nothing was dull. This was particularly apparent in the Fifth Symphony where, even though it was not played very fast, all the grandeur was extremely apparent, the slight slowness of the tempo only adding to the elegance of the piece. But more on that later.

The concert opened with a performance of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 1 in C Major. The orchestra was very well synchronized and it took me a while to notice that Maestro Frühbeck de Burgos was conducting without a score. (Maestro Frühbeck de Burgos is a veteran and this is Beethoven’s symphony we are talking about so this is somewhat expected, but I still get a surge of awe and respect when I see someone conduct without a score.) The first movement started off on a serene note. As the piece progressed, the forte portions added to the grandeur. The tempo continued to remain slightly slow but was brisk nevertheless. The second movement continued just as elegantly, especially the first few measures which seemed outright gentle after the relatively loud end of the first movement. The grandeur and playfulness returned again in the third and fourth movements, which sounded quite jovial and cheery. The second movement is my most favorite movement of the symphony and I enjoyed it the most and there were no disappointments.

I had one qualm though. The piano portions of the music sometimes seemed too soft and their detail was lost on me. This was also true for the second piece played, Symphony No. 2 in D Major. However, I was generally quite pleased with both the First as well as the Second.

The striking feature of this juxtaposition of Beethoven’s works was the clarity with which one could see how different the two symphonies are. In the First, one sees a conformist Beethoven, composing music that sounds like that of his predecessors, Haydn and Mozart. There is no scherzo, but rather a minuet. In contrast, he really spreads his wings for the Second, with the second movement of the Second Symphony characteristically unlike that of his predecessors but rather distinctly like him. The rendition of this slow second movement was particularly fabulous and I made a mental note to try to attend the orchestra’s performance of the similar Sixth Symphony.

The third and the final piece on the program was Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C minor, one of the most popular of his symphonies, perhaps second only to the Ninth in terms of popularity. Its distinctive four note opening is well recognized by many people, to the point of it being somewhat of a cliché.

Right after those initial four notes, I afforded a guess that it was going to be a loud but conservative affair. The sheer number of performers on stage also supported this — the stage was quite packed. The guess turned out to be right. The tempo was slightly on the slower side as had been the norm throughout the performance. The piano portions were not too soft this time, and I was in general quite happy. The rendition did not disappoint me, but I didn’t think it was particularly noteworthy either. To be fair, this was somewhat expected as the Fifth Symphony is quite popular and familiar, and the lack of novelty that I felt only shows this. I must add that in the end it all felt “right” — it ended right about where it should have; nothing felt too fast or too slow or too loud, so I’d say apart from the lack of novelty, it was pretty much perfect.

The performance was very well received with many rounds of applause and shouts of “Bravo!” following its conclusion.

In the final concert of the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s The Complete Symphonies series, celebrated conductor Lorin Maazel led the orchestra to a remarkable performance of Beethoven’s Eighth and Ninth Symphonies. Maestro Maazel, former Music Director of the New York Philharmonic, conducted the orchestra in the last two episodes of the series in place of Maestro Levine.

The concert opened with the Eighth Symphony and, I must say, it was one of the best performances of the Eighth Symphony I have ever heard. Maestro Maazel’s tempi were conservative, perhaps a tad on the slower side, and they succeeded in bringing out the character of the piece. His interpretations of the piece were brilliantly executed by the orchestra, and, throughout the piece, I felt nothing but perfect musical harmony. Nothing was too loud, nothing was too soft. Everything felt perfectly synchronized. There were relatively few performers performing the piece but it was a very effective rendition.

I remember that it took no more than the first few measures to bring a big smile to my face and this lasted throughout the duration of the piece. On occasions, I even wondered if I was grinning somewhat stupidly at the orchestra. Clearly the cheerful nature of the piece was expounded very effectively by the performance. Frankly I was a bit surprised by the amount of applause the orchestra received; I feel they deserved much more.

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 8 in F Major is one of the most cheerful and light-hearted of all his symphonies and shows none of the turmoil in Beethoven’s life when it was composed — he had just come to terms with the fact that he was mostly deaf. First performed in 1814, it is a brisk piece filled with jokes for both the listener as well as the performer.

In stark contrast to the Eighth, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor is a much more serious piece. It is also one of the most familiar pieces of classical music, especially its finale which has parts for voice and the famous poem “Ode to Joy.” The Ninth Symphony has been an integral part of popular culture as well, with many movies, from the 1971 classic A Clockwork Orange to the 2009 Woody Allen film Whatever Works incorporating portions of the symphony in their themes.

Thus, I am sure it is understandable that while entering into the concert hall, I was a bit concerned that the Ninth Symphony might turn out to be a bit blasé. My hopes were raised by the fabulous performance of the Eighth, but the Ninth was not as impressive. I did not get the “kick” I was looking for, quite unlike the Eighth. Maestro Maazel’s interpretations were slightly unconventional and I found the tempi to be too slow for my liking, especially the scherzo. I was at times reminded of how perfectly in sync the orchestra was for the Eighth, as their performance of the Ninth was not as perfect. Perhaps I am being a little harsh here, and I may have had unrealistically high expectations throughout, but I don’t think that that is entirely unpardonable considering that it’s the extremely popular, somewhat clichéd Ninth Symphony we are talking about.

Things started picking up when the vocals kicked in and bass-baritone Eike Wilm Schulte’s O Freunde, nicht diese Töne (O friends, not these tones) felt very apt after the third movement. He sang in a loud and clear voice, and it almost felt as if he was shaking everyone and imploring everyone to be more cheerful. The other soloists, tenor Matthew Polenzani, contralto Meredith Arwady and soprano Christine Brewer were also very good. At times I did feel that perhaps it would have been even better if Ms. Brewer had been a bit louder as at times her voice was drowned a little by the other singers. The Tanglewood Festival Chorus conducted by John Oliver sang beautifully and gave a very impressive performance. I was particularly impressed by the manner in which they smoothly sustained some of Maestro Maazel’s holds as they were rather prolonged at times.

The performance was greatly appreciated with many rounds of applause, confirming once again the popularity of the Ninth Symphony and of Beethoven’s greatness as a composer.