对酒当歌，人生几何：美酒佳肴为音乐增色

司马勤

大概四分之一个世纪前，乔治·斯提尔（George Steel）只用四个字就在纽约古典音乐圈中掀起了一次革命，方法极为简单。当年他接管了哥伦比亚大学米勒剧院（Miller Theatre）后，将那个从前只搬演毫不起眼的演出季的场馆，彻底改造为一个充满活力、现代味浓厚的“无贝多芬地带”。当一个备受赞誉的音乐网站询问斯提尔吸引观众来看新作品演出的诀窍时，他回答道：“免费酒水！”

他接着补充道，每一部新作品的诞生都值得庆祝，主办方应该为观众提供场地与时间，让他们在聆听演出之余，还有机会高谈阔论一番。因此，米勒剧院的大堂在演出前、中场休息时，以及演出后的大概一小时内，都会充当临时酒吧，所配备的酒水种类也不俗。斯提尔私下告诉我，在街角酒铺买酒以及聘请临时酒保的费用，比在《纽约时报》刊登广告要便宜得多。

这个方法行得通吗？不瞒你说，米勒剧院当年搬演艾略特·卡特（Elliott Carter）全套“高档”现代主义的弦乐四重奏音乐会，门票一售而空，连站票都售罄。

米勒剧院那个小酒吧早已不复存在——我确信，在教学楼里供应酒精类饮品必定违反了不少大学的规定——斯提尔后来执掌纽约市立歌剧院，他渴望在歌剧院里设立一个类似的空间，然而他的计划完全落空，歌剧院到了2013年更是寿终正寝。但我可以很高兴地告诉你，他的这个基本概念仍然存活着。

我不确定安德鲁·奥斯利（Andrew Ousley）是否曾经在米勒剧院的大堂里喝过鸡尾酒或是参与过演后讨论，但他所策划的、独一无二的音乐会系列“古典之死”（Death of Classical），将斯提尔的“剧院酒吧”概念升华到一个新的层次。就算是在斯提尔最年少轻狂的岁月里，他也不会想到把系列音乐会命名为“天使的份额”（The Angels Share，酒厂的术语，泛指在木桶中陈酿时蒸发而去的那部分威士忌，如同是向上天缴纳税额一般）。

一直以来，奥斯利对于非传统演出场地情有独钟，他策划的音乐会经常在地下室、地下墓穴或地下通道里举行。“天使的份额”是“古典之死”的第二个演出系列，地点正是布鲁克林区著名的绿林墓园（Green-Wood Cemetery）的地下室。

请不要误会，奥斯利没有对死亡病态迷恋的症状。让我们看看他关注的其他项目：“汉堡包俱乐部”（The Burger Club）属于一系列在纽约举行的快闪活动。他在网上刊登的活动宗旨很简单，就是到处寻觅最好吃的汉堡包。大家可想而知，为了提高效率，不久以后奥斯利的不同兴趣就会找到共通点。

2019年5月，奥斯利推出了“天使的份额”第二季活动，名为“汉堡包、波旁威士忌与贝多芬”（Burgers， Bourbon and Beethoven，简写为BB&B）。在布鲁克林弦乐乐团演奏贝多芬《第五交响曲》之前，主办方提供各类汉堡包的试吃环节，更有不同威士忌赞助商提供试饮。奥斯利以其特有的“谦逊”宣布BB&B是“人类史上最伟大的一宗事件”。

尽管接下来的一年——甚至是2021年——公众场合的活动几乎等为零，奥斯利在2022年5月卷土重来，设计了一个头韵十足的“热狗、烈酒与亨德尔”（Hot Dogs， Hootch and Handel，简写为HH&H）。这次搬演了亨德尔的歌剧咏叹调与器乐作品，配搭着纽约各大热狗店的食品与大量不同的烈酒。奥斯利声称，肉类配上面包的美食系列是为了纪念查尔斯·菲尔特曼（Charles Feltman）：他于1867年在纽约康尼岛发明了热狗这种小吃，而这位饮食先驱如今正是“长居”于绿林墓园。

去年5月，奥斯利呈献了“塔可（墨西哥卷饼）、龙舌兰酒与塔文纳”（Tacos， Tequila and Tavener，简写为TT&T）。演出的曲目是刚去世不久的作曲家约翰·塔文纳的《防护面纱》（Protecting Veil），由大提琴家约书亚·罗曼（Joshua Roman）与当代乐团（Contemporaneous Ensemble）演奏。观赏演出前，观众可以品尝多种龙舌兰酒以及街头餐车烹制的塔可。根据奥斯利的一贯作风，门票包含酒水在内，但食物是需要另购的。（演出告示标注得十分明确，观众必须符合美国法定的饮酒年龄，即21岁或以上，才可入场。）

不知何解——每年的情况都不一样——这几年来我跟奥斯利策划的这些活动都失之交臂。几周前，我终于打破了这个纪录，出席了“动物园”（Tiergarten）这场歌舞秀，那正是卡内基音乐厅“魏玛共和国的崩解”艺术节的附属节目。场地本来是一个教堂活动室，却被改装为夜总会。演出除了歌唱、舞蹈、皮影戏、滑稽歌舞杂剧、还有一个临时乐队参演。主持是金·大卫·史密斯（Kim David Smith），他负责将每个节目串联在一起。奥斯利是这个制作的编剧，也是他首次担任导演。

He went on to say that the birth of any new work should be a celebration， deserving of a space where people could not only hear the music but discuss it. But the Miller Theatre lobby literally sprouted an informal， respectably stocked bar before each concert， during intermission and for nearly an hour afterward. Privately， Steel told me that shopping at his corner liquor store and hiring a bartender for the night cost significantly less than a New York Times ad.

Did it work？ Lets just say that the Millers cycle of Elliott Carters high-modernist string quartets was standing room only.

The bar at the Miller is long gone—Im sure it violated reams of university regulations—and a discussion space was one of many things that Steel never managed to bring to New York City Opera as the companys final general manager before its inglorious demise in 2013. But Im happy to say， the basic idea lives on.

Im not sure if Andrew Ousley ever shared a drink or discussion in the Miller lobby， but his unique concert series Death of Classical has taken Steels concept to an entirely new level. Not even Steel， for all the bravado in his youth， named a concert series “The Angels Share” （a distillers term for the bit of whisky that evaporates while aging in the cask）.

Ousleys roots as an impresario stem from a love of non-traditional venues， mostly crypts and catacombs. The Angels Share， the second series he launched under his Death of Classical moniker， actually takes place in the chambers beneath Brooklyns Green-Wood Cemetery.

Lest you think Ousleys fixation overly morbid， lets look at his other preoccupation： The Burger Club， a series of pop-up events around New York dedicated （so its website claims） “to finding the finest burgers in all the land.” In the interest of efficiency， it was surely only a matter of time before his interests came together.

In May 2019， Ousley launched the second season of The Angels Share with “Burgers， Bourbon and Beethoven，” prefacing a performance of Beethovens Fifth Symphony by the String Orchestra of Brooklyn with a cook-off of competing hamburger recipes and a bourbon tasting facilitated by a handful of whiskey sponsors. Ousley， with characteristic humility， announced BB&B as “the single greatest event ever conceived in the history of humanity.”

Though the next year—and even 2021—was pretty much a bust for public gatherings， in May 2022 Ousley returned in full alliteration with “Hot Dogs， Hootch and Handel，” pairing a survey of the composers operatic and instrumental music with a sampling of frankfurters from various New York restaurateurs and a less focused—though more extensive—assortment of liquors. （The shift in sandwiches， he claimed， was in honor of Charles Feltman， now a “Green-Wood permanent resident，” who invented the hot dog at Coney Island in 1867）.

Last May， Ousley returned once again with “Tacos， Tequila and Tavener，” where John Taveners Protecting Veil （performed by soloist Joshua Roman and the Contemporaneous Ensemble） was flanked by a variety of mezcals and tequilas along with tacos provided by a “well-curated collection of food trucks.” Per the festivals ethos， the drinks were free； food was for purchase. （The program announcement clearly stated that audience members must be at least 21， the legal drinking age in America.）

For some reason—and its been different each year—Ive been away from New York during Ousleys events. I finally broke that perfect streak a few weeks ago with Tiergarten， a cabaret production appearing in conjunction with this years Carnegie Hall festival， Fall of the Weimar Republic. Turning a church social hall into a makeshift nightclub， the evening featured a cast of singers and dancers， shadow puppetry， burlesque， and a pick-up ensemble of musicians， all loosely held together by Kim David Smith as Master of Ceremonies. Ousley was credited as writer and， for the first time， director.

As a show， Tiergarten was typically ambitious and sprawling， opening with a juxtaposition of Vivaldis La Folia and“Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Show in a Kurt Weilllike instrumentation. That set the tone for the evening， which unfolded in a series of anachronistic episodes with labels like“Weimar Berlin，” “World War I” （a bit of a misnomer， since World War II wouldnt have occurred yet） and “American Revolution” where musical genres collided with abandon （a segment entitled“The Salem Witch Trials” combined the song “Witchcraft” with Azucenas aria from Verdis Il Trovatore）.

One description called Tiergarten “immersive，”which was rather like calling Lucky Strikes cigarettes“toasted” （since all cigarette tobacco is toasted， and any kind of nightclub setting—permanent or provisional—is by definition “immersive”）. Tiergartens doors opened an hour before the show， with a long table of hors doeuvres surrounded by various sta- tions of wine， beer and pre-mixed cocktails. Every table had a complimentary bottle of champagne.

As far as the show itself was concerned， it didnt help that some chapters in the program were either truncated or missing altogether （most likely to reduce the running time）. It also didnt help that Ousleys debut effort for Carnegie Hall was pitted in the festival alongside many other cabaret artists at the top of their game. Or that this cabaret was also competing against a revival of the musical Cabaret， which had just transferred to Broadway from Londons West End. But as an event， Ousleys evening pulled all the right levers.

Checking this months schedule， I see that Ousleys May outing at Green-Wood this year is entitled“Spring， Strings and Tasty Things.” No more alliteration or single-item menus； the program is still a bit vague， though food and free drinks remain nonnegotiable. The featured ensemble is the Baroque band Ruckus， and the evening includes free lessons in social dances from the late 1700s.

Finally， I think I can actually make it. Start chilling the glasses now. Probably the only thing that could get in the way is a rainstorm， and I see that Handels Water Music is already on the program.

***

They say “Speak of the Devil and he doth appear，”but now I realize it works for the other side as well. After months of my going on about staging oratorios， not least of which being Handels Messiah， suddenly a Messiah came my way.

It took me a while to notice， partly because it was entitled Der Messias—or rather， since it was in Barcelona， El Messies. Robert Wilson originally staged Mozarts German-language reorchestration of Handel for Salzburgs Easter Week in 2020， and this time around the production also made it to the Gran Teatre del Liceu just in time for Easter.

Although Wilson claims that he sees Messiah as less of a religious work than a spiritual journey， any further details seem rather vague. Some critics have found a certain serenity in Wilsons balance of geometric shapes and natural objects （including a tree with roots， and a floating haystack）， others in the ritual-like juxtaposition of contrasting costumes（where a barker from an English music hall seems to meet a figure from Japanese noh）. Personally， I find Wilsons visual symmetry bearing a direct—if cool and distant—connection to Handels musical structure， which unfolds in a well-chiseled balance between soloists and chorus， and among the soloists themselves.

Depending on how well you know Handels origi-nal， Mozarts version can be a bit jarring. Several choral bits get reassigned to soloists， repeats in the arias are cut entirely， the instrumental solo in “The trumpet shall sound” is rendered on the French horn. And if Handels King James English rings in your ear， best not to look at the English translations of Luthers German texts.

Alas， the biggest disconnect at the Liceu was in the performance. Of the soloists， only soprano Julia Lezhneva consistently rose to Wilsons challenge. Bass Kre？imir Stra？anac had little volume in his lower register. Tenor Richard Croft faced frequent lulls in stamina. Alto Kate Lindseys best efforts were literally misplaced， both physically， in stage positions acoustically unflattering to her voice， and musically， where much of her vocal range was overshadowed by the orchestra.

The biggest shortcomings， though， were in the Liceus orchestra and chorus. Under Josep Pons， the orchestra showed neither the rhythmic buoyancy required of Handel nor the clarity in texture demanded by Mozart. The choruss showing was even more puzzling. For a vocal ensemble that regularly traverses the operatic repertoire with confidence and grace， their performance of the most famous work in the choral repertoire was often hazy and diffuse， as if singing from behind one of Wilsons clouds.