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      How the Skagit Valley Chorale Learned to Sing Again Amid Covid

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      A year ago, they infamously demonstrated the dangers of singing in the pandemic. What will it take to get the choir of Washington’s Skagit Valley — and the rest of the world’s choral musicians — back together again?

      The Skagit Valley Chorale last sang together in person on the evening of March 10, 2020. Earlier that day, Skagit County issued a news release on its website recommending the cancellation of gatherings of more than 10 people. But the chorale didn’t see the advisory in time. The valley, a rural expanse in northwestern Washington cupped between the Puget Sound and the North Cascades, doesn’t have a dedicated TV station, and county officials rely on radio, The Skagit Valley Herald and Skagit Breaking, an online news site, to carry announcements. “Whenever I put out news releases, I’m expecting behavior change and common knowledge not to happen for days,” Lea Hamner, the communicable disease and epidemiology lead for the county’s public health department, told me. Businesses, schools, restaurants and other public spaces were open as usual.

      Mary Campbell, a tenor who worked as the district manager for the libraries in a neighboring county, spent the day in discussions about how to keep staff and patrons “safe from touching things,” like returned books. She showed up at practice feeling stressed and tired — but knowing that 2½ hours of singing with the group would, through alchemy everyone felt but couldn’t quite explain, give her uplift and energy. More

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      in Theater

      ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ Sprinkled With High-Tech Fairy Dust

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ Sprinkled With High-Tech Fairy DustA new online production from the Royal Shakespeare Company uses motion-capture and video game technology to create a virtual world.E.M. Williams performing in a motion-capture suit as Puck, in rehearsal for “Dream,” which will be performed live and streamed online starting Friday.Credit…Stuart Martin/Royal Shakespeare CompanyMarch 12, 2021, 7:29 a.m. ET“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” may be one of Shakespeare’s most performed plays — but its latest version from the Royal Shakespeare Company will be unlike any seen before. Titled “Dream,” the 50-minute streamed production fuses live performance with motion-capture technology, 3-D graphics, and interactive gaming techniques that let the audience remotely guide Puck through a virtual forest.As live theater sprinkled with some seriously high-tech fairy dust, “Dream” promises to bring “a most rare vision” of the play to our screens, to borrow a line from Shakespeare. It will be available to watch online once a day at various times from Friday through March 20.“It’s part of our ongoing engagement with this brave new world,” said Gregory Doran, the Royal Shakespeare Company’s artistic director. In 2016, the theater’s production of “The Tempest” used live motion-capture technology to create a 3-D digital avatar that was projected above the stage.The difference this time is that everything in the play — the performers and their surroundings — will be rendered virtually.A cast of seven will perform in a specially built studio in Portsmouth, southern England, wearing Lycra motion-capture suits outfitted with sensors. They will be surrounded by a 360-degree camera rig, made up of 47 cameras, with every movement almost instantaneously rendered by digital avatars, which are relayed to viewers via the stream. These magical figures move seamlessly through a computer-generated woodland, and the action is narrated in husky tones by the Australian singer-songwriter Nick Cave as the forest’s voice.For audiences watching at home, the virtual fairies moving through a digital forest will look more like a video game or a CGI blockbuster than your average Royal Shakespeare Company show. But the performances are delivered live and in real time. Every night’s performance will be unique.With its abridged running time and a much-reduced cast of characters, “Dream” is not a full-scale production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”; rather, it is a narrative inspired by it, focusing on Puck and the fairies. But don’t expect any cute digital wings: These are elemental, mysterious forces of nature.Naomi Gibbs, left, and Alex Counsell, right, fine-tune E.M. Williams’s motion-capture sensors.Credit…Stuart Martin/Royal Shakespeare CompanyThe arts collective Marshmallow Laser Feast, which works with virtual, mixed and augmented reality, has created digital avatars for the actors so they look sprung from the natural world. Puck is formed of pebbles and stones, while Titania’s fairies are made up of moth wings, cobwebs, earth or roots. The fairies are shape-shifters that coalesce into recognizable human and animal forms onscreen, and grow or shrink so that they are small enough to “creep into acorn-cups,” as Puck puts it.“It’s a form of puppetry,” said the Royal Shakespeare Company’s director of digital development, Sarah Ellis. “Those avatars come alive when they breathe, and how they breathe is through the live actor.”The software that drives the performance, called Unreal Engine, is used across the video games industry and is behind popular titles like “Gears of War” and “Fortnite.” Since 2013, the company that developed it, Epic Games, has been branching out to create interactive 3-D content with the tool for film and TV, and, increasingly, for live events such as music festivals, museum exhibitions and theater productions.Layering the tech with live performance, and relaying it instantly via a web player to thousands of devices, is an experiment for both Epic Games and the Royal Shakespeare Company. And then there’s the interactive component.Up to 2,000 audience members for each performance can become part of the show, and will be invited to guide Puck through the forest. Onscreen, the chosen spectators will appear as a cloud of tiny fireflies: By using their mouse, trackpad or finger on the screen of a smart device, they will be able to move their firefly around the screen, and Puck will follow their lead through the virtual space.“Without the fireflies — the audience — Puck wouldn’t be going anywhere,” said E.M. Williams, who plays the role. “The audience are very much the fuel, the energy, of the show.”Steve Keeley operating the technical platform in rehearsal.Credit…Stuart Martin/Royal Shakespeare CompanyIn a traditional stage production, the “tech” rehearsals come last, after weeks of work by the actors on character and narrative. For “Dream,” the process began with fittings for the motion-capture suits, so the players could calibrate their movements. Their digital avatars were refected on giant LED screens around the studio to orient the performers within the virtual environment.“It looks so 3-D, like it’s coming out the screen sometimes,” Williams said of the computer-generated forest. “There are times when if I touch it, I expect to feel it. It’s thinning the veil between the technological world and the real world.”The Royal Shakespeare Company has long been seen as a bastion of traditional British theater: reverent toward text and verse, powered by great actors. Did the company anticipate any resistance to its high-tech, experimental approach? Several reviewers said its motion-capture “Tempest” was gimmicky.“There’ll be some criticism, of course,” said Doran, the company’s artistic director. But, he added, he hoped “Dream” could speak to a traditional theater audience, as well as viewers drawn in by the technology.Besides, the genius of Shakespeare means his plays can take whatever new inventions are thrown at them. “It’s the same as an experimental production of any of these plays,” Doran said. “Shakespeare is robust: He’ll still be there.”DreamPresented online by the Royal Shakespeare Company, March 12-20; dream.online.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      In ‘Crime Scene,’ Joe Berlinger Investigates True-Crime Obsession

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }What to WatchBest Movies on NetflixBest of Disney PlusBest of Amazon PrimeBest Netflix DocumentariesNew on NetflixAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyIn ‘Crime Scene,’ Joe Berlinger Investigates True-Crime ObsessionIn his latest Netflix docu-series, the director of foundational works like “Paradise Lost” turned his lens to the fans and web sleuths that are changing the stakes of true crime.“I’m described as a true-crime pioneer,” Joe Berlinger said. “I liked the pioneer part. The true crime thing makes me a little nervous.”Credit…Dina Litovsky for The New York TimesFeb. 12, 2021, 9:54 a.m. ETThis article contains mild spoilers for the Netflix series “Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel”It’s hard to find much that is redeeming in true-crime documentaries these days. They tend to showcase humanity’s worst, there’s a seemingly endless supply, and they’re generally so repetitive that it’s hard to tell one from another. On Netflix, you can watch the four-part “Night Stalker,” about the Los Angeles serial killer Richard Ramirez, and then click over to the four-episode “Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel,” in which Ramirez makes a cameo.But “Crime Scene,” directed by the true-crime veteran Joe Berlinger, has some other guest stars, and they make the enterprise a little different than most. One is the title character, the towering Cecil Hotel in downtown Los Angeles. Located in the city’s drug-and-crime-infested Skid Row area, and known for its history of horrors, the Cecil has stories to tell.So do the supporting players. One by one they bear witness to what they haven’t seen, peering out from their computer screens and offering explanations and verdicts. The police covered up the crime. The death metal singer killed her. Wait, it’s just like that one horror movie. Or maybe it’s a ghost story.They are web sleuths, and together they form a sort of uninformed Greek chorus in “Crime Scene,” which premiered on Wednesday. It covers the well-chronicled 2013 disappearance of Elisa Lam, a 21-year-old Canadian tourist. But the story ends up being more about the nature of truth and mass speculation — and about the ethics of true crime, generally — than about any particular crime.Surveillance footage from the Cecil Hotel the night of Elisa Lam’s disappearance became a source of rampant speculation and conspiracy theory among a community of self-appointed web sleuths.Credit…Netflix“The sleuths are very integral to the structure of the show because what’s interesting for me is perception,” Berlinger said in a telephone interview last week. “I wanted the viewer to really experience it the way the web sleuths did in terms of putting together information and the rabbit holes they went down.”Berlinger, who frequently works with Netflix but also does projects with other networks, has been at this for a while, since well before true crime documentaries flooded the airwaves and streaming platforms.In 1992, he and Bruce Sinofsky debuted “Brother’s Keeper,” the wrenching tale of a barely literate farmer accused of murdering his own brother. In 1996, he and Sinofsky released “Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills,” which interrogated the circumstantial evidence that put three Arkansas teenagers in prison, accused of killing and mutilating three young children. Berlinger and Sinofsky made three “Paradise Lost” films altogether, and the teenagers, widely known as the West Memphis Three, were eventually set free.This would seem to be a far cry from “Cecil Hotel,” whose eight-year-old central mystery can be solved by anyone with an internet connection. But Berlinger sees commonalities. For one, those web sleuths.The web wasn’t what it is now in 1996. But Berlinger remembers those who went online, pre-social media, and provided important information about the West Memphis Three. “People can see that these kinds of investigations by regular people can lead to some positive outcomes,” he said.That’s not really the case in “Cecil.” The sleuths go after a death metal artist and ruin his life with false accusations (a touch of satanic panic with echoes of “Paradise Lost,” in which the prosecution uses the West Memphis Three’s taste in heavy metal to help build its case). They obsess over a piece of elevator surveillance footage, seeing proof of evidence tampering where none existed. They accept seemingly every explanation except the simplest one. In general, they get in the way.Some feel the true-crime genre gets in the way as well — of other kinds of documentary and of storytelling in general.A grand Beaux Arts establishment when it was built in 1924, the 700-room Cecil gradually declined into a hub of crime and homelessness.Credit…Netflix“Media companies have grown dependent on the genre,” said Thom Powers, the documentary programmer for the Toronto International Film Festival, in an email. (Powers is a fan of Berlinger, and has programmed his work in the past). “I worry that it’s becoming escapist entertainment that depletes resources from other stories.”“At its worst, the true-crime genre is law enforcement propaganda,” he continued. “The storytelling is so preoccupied with lurid crime details, it rarely pulls back to study larger dynamics.”Even Berlinger has reservations about the genre. His recent body of work comprises several TV docu-series about sensational crimes, including “Conversations With a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes,” “Unspeakable Crime: The Killing of Jessica Chambers” and “Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich.” But call him a true-crime filmmaker and he bristles.“I’m described as a true-crime pioneer,” he acknowledged. “I liked the pioneer part. The true-crime thing makes me a little nervous because I think of myself more as a social justice filmmaker spending a lot of time in the crime space.”He added: “I do think there’s a lot of irresponsible true crime being done where there’s no larger social justice message or there’s not a larger commentary on society. It’s just about wallowing in the misery of somebody else’s tragedy without any larger purpose.”The Cecil has tremendous symbolic value connected to the social history and issues of its surroundings. A grand Beaux Arts establishment when it was built in 1924, the Cecil, which is no longer open, gradually declined along with its neighborhood. The area now called Skid Row developed into a hub of crime and homelessness in the ’30s, and the Cecil, a 700-room behemoth, became known for cheap residential accommodations and tawdry doings. Drugs, prostitution and suicides were common. In 1964, the body of a well-liked retired telephone operator, Goldie Osgood, was found raped, stabbed and beaten in her room. The crime was never solved.“There’s a lot of irresponsible true crime being done where there’s no larger social justice message,” Berlinger said. “It’s just about wallowing in the misery of somebody else’s tragedy.”Credit…Dina Litovsky for The New York TimesRamirez, the serial killer, was a guest; he reportedly would go there after a tiring night of killing, throwing his bloody clothes in a nearby dumpster before returning to his room. So was the prolific Austrian serial killer Jack Unterweger, who, posing as a journalist, continued his spree in Los Angeles by killing three sex workers.It’s not hard to summon a dark aura around the hotel, and many media accounts have done just that.“It’s been shown as a really dark place, with Richard Ramirez having been there and of course Elisa Lam,” said Amy Price, the hotel general manager from 2007 to 2017, in a recent phone interview. She also appears in the series. “But I thought how they presented everything was authentic and very fair.”For all that has happened at the Cecil, without Lam’s disappearance there would be no documentary, and probably very little interest in the hotel today. The web sleuths, none of whom have met her, profess their love and affection for her. They, and the series, pore over the elevator video as if it were the Dead Sea Scrolls. We watch, over and over again, as Lam punches a row of elevator buttons and squishes herself into a corner of the elevator, then exits and makes some odd hand gestures. Surely this must all mean something.Or, maybe not. And here’s where you either stop reading (assuming you haven’t already Googled the case) or continue on to the not-terribly-mystical conclusion. In the end, yes, the Cecil was a crime scene. Many times over. But it appears there was nothing criminal about the Lam case, which was, according to investigators, a sad accident.Asked how he reconciles his more high-minded ideals with the true-crime genre’s imperative to entertain, Berlinger pointed to the fact that “Cecil” tackles subjects that go beyond the corpse at its core, including cyberbullying, homelessness and mental illness. But he also knows true-crime viewers are tuning in for the more lurid details, and sometimes that gives him pause.“I do ask myself, if, God forbid, something happened to me or my family, would I want someone to tell that story?” he said in a follow-up email. “If I’m being totally honest, I would only want that if the telling of that story had a larger purpose than just ‘entertainment.’”Is Berlinger having it both ways? Perhaps. But so is any news article about the series, as the layers of meta-critique pile up. With “Cecil,” he argued, playing to that true-crime imperative is exactly why it works.“In some ways, we’re being very self-reflexive in using the conventions of true crime to seemingly tell a true-crime mystery,” Berlinger said by phone. “Then, we turn it on its head at the end.”He added: “I thought it was appropriate and interesting to choose a crime that actually isn’t a crime, with a perception that something nefarious happened but, in fact, it wasn’t a crime at all.”That’s certainly one way to tweak the true-crime genre. Just remove the crime.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      Theaters Go Digital to Talk About Life (and Death) in the Pandemic

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }At HomeMake: BirriaExplore: ‘Bridgerton’ StyleParent: With ImprovRead: Joyce Carol OatesAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyTheater ReviewTheaters Go Digital to Talk About Life (and Death) in the PandemicGerman playhouses are finding innovative ways to forge connections while their doors are closed.Jonny Hoff as Werther and Florian Gerteis as his friend Wilhelm in “werther.live.”Credit…werther.liveFeb. 11, 2021, 4:41 a.m. ETAn interactive thriller about the race for a vaccine. A morbid installation on the stage of a theater no one can visit. A literary classic set during lockdown and narrated through social media posts. This is what theater in Germany looks like in early 2021.Nearly a year after the pandemic first shuttered playhouses in the country, German theatermakers have become increasingly adept at working around virus-related restrictions. Now, instead of the deluge of archival recordings or the broadcasts of productions planned before the pandemic, an increasing amount of digital theater is using technology to address Covid-era concerns.A recent spate of online productions from state-run and fringe theaters have examined contemporary themes of loneliness, isolation, fear of death and our chances for beating the virus. As lockdowns throughout Germany continue to be extended — Berlin has already announced that theaters in the city won’t reopen until after Easter — it’s heartening to see directors and actors finding new ways to forge connections with remote audiences by focusing on contemporary themes, even when taking well-known works as their starting point.Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s “The Sorrows of Young Werther,” from 1774, is one of the foundation texts of German literature. The epistolary novel, about a young artist who kills himself because of unrequited love, catapulted Goethe to fame and jump-started the Romantic movement in Germany. (The book also inspired a rash of copycat suicides). These days, “Werther” is sometimes seen like other classics that are required reading in school: musty, quaint and cloying in its depiction of adolescent passion and confusion.The director Cosmea Spelleken gives Goethe’s Sturm und Drang hero a refreshing update in “werther.live,” an intricately built and skillfully executed production with a live digital run through March 3 that replicates the in-person theatrical experience. This means that the show can be viewed — for a modest 4 euros (about $5) — only when performed in real time by the actors and technical team.Werther chatting with Lotte, played by Klara Wördemann.Credit…werther.live“werther.live” is a successful experiment in subjective storytelling: The audience experiences the plot almost exclusively from Werther’s perspective, via screen recordings from his computer. Over 120 minutes, we follow the novel’s four main characters through their Facebook profiles, Instagram feeds and WhatsApp conversations. Despite the 21st-century interventions, the production remains surprisingly faithful to the plot and emotional tone of the 18th-century original.At the start of the production, Werther (Jonny Hoff), a university student, is glad that he decided to put his academic career on hold during the pandemic. In his free time, he Skypes and chats regularly with his friend Wilhelm (Florian Gerteis), who is studying in France and, the coronavirus notwithstanding, seems to be having the time of his life.Werther, on the other hand, never seems to step away from his computer, let alone leave his room. He e-meets Lotte (the love interest in Goethe’s original) after buying an illustrated book of antique firearms (foreshadowing!) from her on eBay. Then, after some cyberstalking, Werther’s interest in Lotte becomes an infatuation. As they trade text and voice messages and video chat, we experience Werther’s increasing infatuation with a woman he’s never met. Klara Wördemann’s Lotte isn’t cruel or calculating, but she is careless in the way she leads him on. We understand, however, that she does reciprocate his feelings, at least in part. Their video chats are shot through with tenderness, but also sorrow. Of all the theatrical productions I’ve consumed over the past few months from my laptop, “werther.live” is among the most genuinely innovative. A manifesto of sorts posted on its website outlines the creative team’s aesthetic approach. “Filmed stages? Theater monologues in front of webcams? You’ll find none of that here. We believe that digital theater makes a new form of storytelling possible, in which the digital surfaces are actively part of the story.”The same evening as I watched “werther.live,” I downloaded and logged in to Webex, a web-meeting app, to take part in the Nuremberg State Theater’s production of “The Doses,” an “interactive choose-your-own-adventure” by Philipp Löhle about the race for a coronavirus vaccine.The three characters in “The Doses,” a production of the Nuremberg State Theater.Credit…Staatstheater NürnbergIn the video chat room, I gazed around at a mosaic of participants who had punctually joined the meeting. (Others who tried to log in late were refused entry.) A man in a Guy Fawkes mask instructed us to turn off our cameras. One by one, the faces of the roughly 90 audience members vanished. For the next half-hour, we watched as three actors performed, in real time, a high-octane biological thriller that seemed at least partially ad-libbed and contained a healthy dose of humor.In “The Doses,” a researcher, a human guinea pig and a radical anarchist scramble around a lab in search of a coveted vaccine. Each actor is equipped with a camera while navigating the research facility, and Webex’s split-screen format allows us to follow them on their increasingly frenzied quest.The audience, too, gets to play a role, via poll questions that appear onscreen. Should the anarchist enter the lab via the door or the window? (The audience chose the window). Should she disguise herself as a cleaning woman or a cat? (A cat, obviously!) Should the researcher grab the blue or the red vaccine?I’m not certain that the audience always chose wisely, since the short production ended in bloodshed and mayhem. Even so, if all the applause emojis in the chat window after the performance were any indication, the viewers were well pleased.Despite their unusual formats, both “werther.live” and “The Doses” told dramatic stories, however avant-garde their means. In late January, however, Darmstadt State Theater, in southwestern Germany, put together a timely livestream that, on the surface, had little to do with conventional theater.On the main stage of an auditorium, which has been empty for most of the last year, the German artist Gregor Schneider mounted his installation “Dying Room” (“Sterberaum”). First exhibited in Innsbruck, Austria, in 2011, “Dying Room” was conceived by the artist as a sculptural space where a person could die with dignity. Gregor Schneider in the livestream “Dying Room,” from the Darmstadt State Theater.Credit…Benjamin WeberInitially, Schneider said he was looking for a real person to die in the room over the course of the exhibition. He even enlisted a doctor to help him find volunteers. But even for the outré tastes of the European art establishment, the concept was a step too far. Among the general public, it was treated as a morbid publicity stunt.The ubiquity of death over the past year — to date, Germany has recorded over 60,000 Covid-19-related deaths — has provided a more sobering context for “Dying Room.” In Darmstadt, the installation was streamed on the theater’s website for three days and nights, and shot from three angles to give different perspectives on a modest room, with white walls and a herringbone floor, that had been constructed on the stage. In lieu of an expiring subject, Schneider himself provided the performative element: The artist, clad in all black, stayed onstage throughout the more than 70 hours of the livestream. In this new framework, and against the backdrop of the continuing pandemic, it seemed neither tasteless nor sensational, as previous presentations were called. Instead, Schneider succeeded in creating a space for contemplation and stillness that was heightened by his own high-endurance performance. Like “werther.live” and “The Doses,” the livestream showed that art and technology, when ingeniously combined, can respond to our age of solitude and disquiet with an urgency and immediacy more readily associated with live performance.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      ‘A Glitch in the Matrix’ Review: Is This All Just a Simulation?

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘A Glitch in the Matrix’ Review: Is This All Just a Simulation?This documentary, from the director of “Room 237,” is a lively yet superficial exploration of the theory that our reality is actually a computer simulation.A still from the documentary “A Glitch in the Matrix.”Credit…MagnoliaFeb. 4, 2021, 7:00 a.m. ETA Glitch in the MatrixDirected by Rodney AscherDocumentary1h 48mFind TicketsWhen you purchase a ticket for an independently reviewed film through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.In the 1950s, Vladimir Nabokov asserted, not entirely playfully, that “reality” is a word that should only ever have quotation marks around it.Contemporary technology has enabled thinkers to become more elaborate about the nature of the quotation marks. “A Glitch in the Matrix,” directed by Rodney Ascher — who also made “Room 237,” a 2013 film that gave certain Stanley Kubrick enthusiasts a platform to theorize about “The Shining”; many seemed to have too much time on their hands — explores the notion that we’re all living inside a computer simulation.[embedded content]This documentary’s jumping off point is a lecture delivered by the writer Philip K. Dick in France in the 1970s. Dick was a genuine artist, and also lived with mental illness; his pained “revelations” about the nature of his reality are moving to hear. Less rewarding are the self-assured cyber-bromides offered by the billionaire C.E.O. of SpaceX, Elon Musk, who comes off like a dorm-room tech-bro bore. The movie also explores how this idea has manifested in popular culture, hardly limited to the “Matrix” franchise.But “A Glitch” wades only shin-deep into the complex logic that’s attached to this speculation. We’re shown Philosophy 101 stalwarts Plato and Descartes as its pioneers. There’s interview footage with the contemporary philosopher Nick Bostrom, but nothing on his significant forebears W.V. Quine or Alfred North Whitehead.These ideas have consequences, and these days, they’re sometimes dire. Throughout the movie, Ascher threads in a phone interview with a man who came to believe the world depicted in “The Matrix” was genuine. This belief led him to kill his parents. The director edits the material so that, if the viewer doesn’t already know who this individual is, the end of the account plays as a suspense narrative “reveal.” It’s exploitative and opportunistic. But not atypical of the movie’s slick sensory overload, which doesn’t disguise its fundamentally glib approach.A Glitch in the MatrixNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 48 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Amazon, FandangoNow and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      Ticketmaster Will Pay $10 Million to Put Songkick Criminal Case to Rest

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyTicketmaster Will Pay $10 Million to Put Songkick Criminal Case to RestThe concert giant has agreed to pay the fine to resolve charges that it intruded into the computer system of one of its competitors.The criminal charges against Ticketmaster include one count of computer intrusion for commercial advantage and one count of wire fraud.Credit…Paul Sakuma/Associated PressDec. 30, 2020, 5:42 p.m. ETTicketmaster has agreed to pay a $10 million fine to resolve charges that it intruded into the computer system of one of its competitors, prosecutors said on Wednesday, ending a yearslong legal battle over claims that the company illegally interfered in the business of a ticketing start-up called Songkick.More than two years ago, Ticketmaster reached a settlement with Songkick in response to a lawsuit that accused the concert giant of abusing its market power to control the sales of tickets. In addition to settling for $110 million, Ticketmaster acquired some of Songkick’s remaining technology assets and patents for an undisclosed sum.The court battle also involved accusations of corporate espionage that led to an investigation by federal prosecutors in New York.Prosecutors for the U.S. attorney’s office for the Eastern District of New York said in court documents that the computer intrusions were spearheaded by a former Songkick employee who left the start-up in 2012 and later started working for Ticketmaster, which is owned by Live Nation. The employee was said to have disseminated Songkick’s login information to other Ticketmaster employees so they could access an app called an artist toolbox, which provided data on purchases of presale tickets through Songkick, the documents said.The employee also was accused of sharing URLs that led to drafts of Songkick’s ticketing web pages. In response to that information, prosecutors said, a Ticketmaster executive wrote that the goal was to “choke off” their competitor and “steal back” one of Songkick’s key clients.The details of the criminal investigation came to light in a federal court in Brooklyn, where Ticketmaster formally agreed on Wednesday to pay the fine as part of a deferred prosecution agreement, according to a news release from the U.S. attorney’s office.In a statement on Wednesday, Ticketmaster said that in 2017, it had terminated the employee who provided the login information, as well as another Ticketmaster employee, Zeeshan Zaidi, who also accessed the computer systems and faced separate charges.“Their actions violated our corporate policies and were inconsistent with our values,” the statement said. “We are pleased that this matter is now resolved.”Last year, Mr. Zaidi, who was formerly the head of Ticketmaster’s artist services division, pleaded guilty to conspiring to commit computer intrusions and wire fraud in relation to the case. Court filings from the U.S. attorney’s office said that Mr. Zaidi accessed Songkick’s computer systems on “numerous occasions” between 2013 and 2015. Mr. Zaidi also included screenshots of Songkick’s toolbox for artists in a presentation for executives and solicited “confidential proprietary information” about Songkick from the employee who had worked there, the documents said.A lawyer for Mr. Zaidi, who is awaiting sentencing, did not immediately respond to a request for comment.The criminal charges against Ticketmaster, filed on Wednesday, include one count of computer intrusion for commercial advantage and one count of wire fraud. To comply with the deferred prosecution agreement, Ticketmaster must maintain an ethics program intended to prevent similar infractions in the future.The $10 million fine is not a huge sum for a multibillion-dollar company, but the pandemic has already put significant financial pressure on Live Nation, which had to cancel concerts en masse and respond to a flood of demands for refunds.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      Noah Creshevsky, Composer of ‘Hyperreal’ Music, Dies at 75

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best MoviesBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest TheaterBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyNoah Creshevsky, Composer of ‘Hyperreal’ Music, Dies at 75He built his musical works from myriad sampled sounds, including noises from the street as well as voices and instruments. He was also a respected teacher.The composer Noah Creshevsky in 1985 with the tools of his trade, including a Moog synthesizer. “We live in a hyperrealist world,” he said, and he wrote music to match it.Credit…via Tom HamiltonDec. 12, 2020, 5:51 p.m. ETNoah Creshevsky, a composer of sophisticated, variegated electroacoustic works that mingled scraps of vocal and instrumental music, speech, outside noise, television snippets and other bits of sound, died on Dec. 3 at his home in Manhattan. He was 75. His husband, David Sachs, said the cause was cancer.Mr. Creshevsky studied composition with some of the most prominent figures in modern music, including the French pedagogue Nadia Boulanger and the Italian composer Luciano Berio.Rather than pursuing a career that might have resulted in concert-hall celebrity, Mr. Creshevsky found his calling in the studio-bound world of electronic music. Using the prevailing technologies of the day — at first cutting and splicing magnetic tape, later using samplers and digital audio workstations — he made music that was dizzyingly complex in its conception and construction.But because he built his works from everyday sounds as well as voices and instruments, his compositions felt accessible, engaging and witty. The term he used to describe his music, and the philosophy that animated it, was “hyperrealism.”The “realism” comes from what we hear in our shared environment, and the “hyper” from the “exaggerated or excessive” ways those sounds are handled, Mr. Creshevsky wrote in “Hyperrealism, Hyperdrama, Superperformers and Open Palette,” an influential 2005 essay.“Contemporary reality is so densely layered and information-rich and so far removed from a hypothetical state of ‘naturalness’ that hyperrealism is an accurate term for identifying the fabric of daily life,” he continued. “We live in a hyperrealist world.”Mr. Creshevsky conveyed those qualities through his music with wild juxtapositions and fantastical distortions. He used recordings of John Cage’s speaking voice to create “In Other Words” (1976), a leisurely whirlpool of disembodied chatter. In “Great Performances” (1978), clips of classical-music performances and deadpan announcers poke gentle fun at highbrow culture. “Strategic Defense Initiative” (1978) mashes up martial-arts movie sound bites, funk beats and inexplicable noises in an exuberant tour de force of tape manipulation.The same energy and wit animate Mr. Creshevsky’s digital creations. In “Ossi di Morte” (1997), tiny scraps of recorded opera are stitched into a vignette that never existed. Similarly, “Götterdämmerung” (2009) infuses samples of the Klez Dispensers, a local klezmer ensemble, with superhuman energy and speed.Mr. Creshevsky was also a much-admired teacher. He joined the faculty of Brooklyn College in 1969 and served as director of the college’s trailblazing Center for Computer Music from 1994 to 1999. He also taught at the Juilliard School and Hunter College in New York and spent the 1984 academic year at Princeton University.Over the years Mr. Creshevsky documented much of his music on record labels that specialized in classical or experimental music. This album was released by the Mutable Music label in 2003.Noah Creshevsky was born Gary Cohen on Jan. 31, 1945, in Rochester, N.Y., to Joseph and Sylvia Cohen. His father worked in his family’s dry-cleaning business, and his mother was a homemaker. He changed his surname to Creshevsky, according to Mr. Sachs, “to honor his grandparents, whose name it was.” At the same time he also changed his first name, because, he said, “I never felt like a Gary.”The Cohen household was not especially musical, but young Gary was drawn to a piano that had been bought for his older brother. His parents, Mr. Sachs said, “were surprised to see toddler Noah — his legs too short to reach the pedals — picking out pop melodies he had heard and retained.”He began his formal musical training at 6, in the preparatory division of the Eastman School of Music in Rochester. “Since my nature is that of a composer rather than a performer, I never liked spending much time practicing someone else’s composition,” Mr. Creshevsky said in an interview published by Tokafi, a music website. “Instead of working on the music that had been assigned by my teachers at Eastman, I spent many hours improvising at the piano.” He made money, he said, working as a cocktail pianist at bars and restaurants.After finishing at Eastman in 1961, he earned a bachelor of fine arts degree at the State University of New York at Buffalo, now known as the University at Buffalo, in 1966. There he studied with the noted composer Lukas Foss. He also spent a year with Boulanger at the École Normale de Musique in Paris, in 1963 and 1964, a rite of passage for many prominent American composers.After graduating he moved to New York City, where he founded a new-music group, the New York Improvisation Ensemble. He studied with Berio at Juilliard and earned his master’s degree in 1968.Not long afterward, Mr. Creshevsky gave up composing music meant to be performed live. In espousing hyperrealism, he identified two chief threads in his own work.Beginning with “Circuit,” a 1971 work for harpsichord and tape, he used sounds derived from familiar instruments, including the voice, to evoke “superperformers,” a term he applied to artificial performances of inhuman dexterity and exactitude.The idea had many precedents, Mr. Creshevsky wrote in 2005, including the violin music of Paganini, the piano music of Liszt and the player-piano works of Conlon Nancarrow.He also sought to radically expand the sonic palette available to a composer, a venture aided by affordable personal computers and the advent of sampling. Composers could now “incorporate the sounds of the entire world into their music,” he wrote. The result, he proposed, would be “an inclusive, limitless sonic compendium, free of ethnic and national particularity.”Mr. Creshevsky’s view of music education balanced a healthy respect for classical music’s lineage and literature with an open-minded approach to global culture and emerging technologies. “It seems probable that the next Mozart will not play the piano, but will be a terrific player of computer games,” he predicted in the Tokafi interview. “A senior generation needs to educate itself by understanding that digital technologies are creative instruments of quality.”He retired from Brooklyn College in 2000, and in 2015 he delivered his personal archives of recordings, papers and ephemera to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. Over the years he had documented much of his music on record labels that specialized in classical or experimental music. He found a kindred spirit and fervent advocate in the composer and saxophonist John Zorn, whose Tzadik label issued compelling discs of Mr. Creshevsky’s compositions in 2007, 2010 and 2013.Another album suggested that Mr. Creshevsky’s influence had traveled well beyond the classical avant-garde. “Reanimator,” a career-spanning 2018 survey, appeared on Orange Milk, a label associated with contemporary styles like vaporwave and hyperpop.Seth Graham, a founder of the label, had heeded a friend’s advice to listen to Mr. Creshevsky’s music, and was struck by its audacity and prescience. Mr. Graham contacted Mr. Creshevsky on Facebook to propose a recording project — a gesture that quickly yielded a fast friendship.Orange Milk, Mr. Graham said, functioned like a close-knit community in which artists shared tips and feedback with one another. “Noah started to interact with all of us,” he said in an email, “and I know for many artists, it was helpful and a joy to interact with him.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More