Happy Birfday, Phil

I wish I could remember who snarkily mentioned that the true measure of a blog was how many entries were left after you take out all the apologies to write more often. Anyway, while I looked like I was living the life of a hip blogginista last semester, I was really just working at a library and watching bootlegged episodes of Good Eats. Oh what a change has happened, yesterday I went to Lee Hyla's sendoff at NEC, tomorrow I go to a gallery reception before jetting off to see the BSO; the weekend holds an opera, another composer spotlight, and that Annual Football Championship. I'll blog as much of it as I can, but the last week doesn't bode well.

Anyway, Mr. Glass turns 70 today with remarkably less fanfare than Mr. Reich did a couple months ago. I'll admit that I'm considerably less familiar with Glass's oeuvre as Reich's, something that the thinkers over at Sequenza21 attribute to Glass's rather more prodigious output. In the comments I mentioned that it sounded like the difference between writing when you have ideas and writing in order to get idea, so we'll see if I get creamed. This makes a lot of sense for me, since Glass's works are really hit or miss for me. While I love his String Quartet #5, "Low" Symphony, and score to Koyannisqatsi, I cannot stand his operas. This might also have something to do with my problems with hearing operas before I see them.

While the actual day of his birth caught me off guard, I had been hearing that this was to be the Year of Glass since the new year. So unless your birthday celebrations are made special by freakish longevity (knock on wood), no one takes stocks until the year actually ticks over. That explains it, it's way easier to put together a concert in ten months than three weeks.