The Fredösphere

My old friend who goes by the name "Roy Cohn" asks in a comment if I really saw Michael Daugherty at the Hands-On Museum on Saturday.  I'm going to be charitable and assume Roy can spot irony even when it's not slipped into a burlap bag and smacked across his face several times.  But this is as good an excuse as any to tell of a true Daugherty sighting.

A few months back, the Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra premiered Daugherty's new organ concerto called Once Upon a Castle.  A week before the concert he gave a talk about it at the library downtown.  I went.  Naturally my main interest was to hear what he would say, but naturally I also fantasized about getting noticed somehow by the master.  Something like this:  I walk by him, a sheet of music manuscript falls out of a folder I just happen to have in my hand, he glances at it, he says something like "F sharp?  F sharp!!  That's brilliant!!" and my career as the Kitty Carlyle of the Ann Arbor music scene takes off from there.  Or whatever.

Knowing how pipe dreams can lead me to make a real fool of myself, I resolved to maintain a restrained, taciturn attitude and avoid all sycophancy.  At least that rather modest goal was attained.

The crowd was smallish, certainly less than 50 people.  Most seemed to be retired folks, with a smattering of students, probably high-schoolers.  I said nothing during the Q and A, and was pleased not to play the role of the dork who can't stop asking dumb questions.  (An elderly lady filled that niche.)  I was amused by the crowd's shock when Daugherty admitted he used synthesizers and computers as compositional aids.  What Would Beethoven Do, indeed.

Daugherty gave his talk, focusing on the annoying corporate copyright controls which prevent him from referencing directly the subjects of his compositions.  I.e., his Superman symphony is called "Metropolis" and the castle of the organ concerto is the Hearst mansion.  He played not a single note of the concerto which disappointed me, but then I realized that the AASO had paid good money for the premiere and probably stipulated  that Daugherty give no sneak previews.

He gave a slide show that I've seen before, a potpourri of pop culture icons that inspire him:  Cadillac Ranch, Elvis, and that wonderful tabloid headline "Liberace's Sexiest Girlfriend!" which, in three words, tells you so much about that alien planet which is Hollywood.

Daugherty was selling CDs afterwards and I went up to buy one.  He looked at me and said, "so, are you a composer?"  I was stunned.  Flabbergasted.  Befuddled and flummoxed.  I did not expect such a question and I didn't have a response prepared.  I mumbled something about not wanting to claim that title, and the golden moment passed forever.  How did he know?  I suppose it had something to do with my uniqueness among that crowd, and maybe I had a knowing grin on my face at key points in the talk.  Who knows.

The concerto's premiere was to be performed on the Michigan Theater's classic theater organ, so I asked Daugherty if he was familiar with Virgil Fox's recording of theater organ pieces on the Kansas City Wurlitzer.  He said, "yes, wasn't that on the Columbia label?  It may be available now on CD."   Hmmm, yeah, I guess that's right.  Wow.  His memory is encyclopedic.

I guess that's how you get to be Michael Daugherty.  By knowing everything.