Yanni and his orchestra, band, whatever, was splayed out in front of the beautiful rock formations and natural wonders of Red Rock, Colorado. Apparently the concert halls of the world's great orchestras aren't sufficient to showcase Mr. Yanni's talents. He seems to prefer outdoor venues such as the Acropolis in Greece (as opposed the Acropolis Bar in Chicago). He pointed and gestured, rose up on his toes and generally looked like a ballerina being electrocuted. Emanating from the band was a series of seemingly random and unconnected themes best described as grandiose tinkling, entitled "Cosmic Toenails on a Linoleum Floor", or something like that. It went on.

Yanni's style of conducting resembles someone passing a kidney stone or giving birth to twins. He looks painfully triumphant and engaged in Serious Business. It is, of course, the business of Yanni. He sells billions and billions of records. Tickets for his extravaganzas sell faster than chewing tobacco at a NASCAR race and cost a hell of a lot more. It's not even as artful as New Age music, it's Faux New Age.

So what do I care if Yanni is Concert Master to yuppie posers, people who couldn't tell an aria from an air horn? It shouldn't matter. But I get cheesed that he is so successfully peddling third-rate pap when so many talented composers and musicians can't catch a break. Kind of like post-Beatles McCartney.

Thank you, and yes, I do feel better now.
7:53:24 AM    Comments?()