![]() ![]() The Symphony Hall is also notable for its reverberation chamber, a cavernous space behind the stage end of the building which increases the hall’s volume by 50% when the giant doors are open, creating reverberation of cathedral-like proportions.ĭuring 2001, an organ was installed into the auditorium. Specially padded panels, hidden behind the side seating, pull out on tracks to create the dry acoustic needed for amplified shows and an acoustic curtain covers the stage end of the hall. That flexibility was built in through innovations such as the acoustic canopy above the stage which can be raised or lowered to create the best sound depending on the number of performers. The 2262 seat venue was designed to be flexible – an acoustic marvel that could turn itself from the perfect hall for a symphony orchestra to a rock band. Like its sister hall at the Meyerson Symphony Centre in Dallas, it features reverse fan shaping – a curved wall at both ends of the hall – throwing the sound back into the centre. The Symphony Hall’s ‘shoebox’ design replicated world-beating concert halls like Vienna’s Musikverein but with a new twist. Once our battle with diversions and traffic cones is completed, we manage to park up with relative ease, and even better it’s free after 18:00, and head into the venue. Tonight, we’re traveling right into the heart of Birmingham, and the Symphony Hall. But I suppose we get to see a lot more of the city this way, although this being the case, it’s against a backdrop of flashing blue lights or orange ones atop traffic cones. In all our times attending gigs in Birmingham, we’ve never had a clear run, or come in and gone out the same way. Your body gets happy.MPM Tog ‘Statler’ Manson picks me up in our tour bus and we head towards Birmingham, wondering what cocktail of road closures, diversions, and accidents the city is mixing for us this evening. You can tell when a door doesn’t close right, so you give it another yank. I’ll look and, sure enough, I’ve usually forced the tune somewhere, had some big idea, instead of listening to the piece. A few of them continue to grow, and that’s very unsettling. I find these tunes, and they tell me when it’s over. How do you know when one of your compositions is finally finished? We hear it with everything we’ve got, or everything we’ve got left. Music is not human, but it’s something humans love. I don’t think people who have all their hearing could tell you how that affects their compositions. How has that affected your approach to musical composition? But the trombone did teach me that playing is a privilege, even if - or especially if - you’re playing alone in an empty room. But I did learn a little harmony, a little structure, and I learned about playing with other people, which is probably why I play solo now. I can’t really know everything carries over, including whatever I had for lunch. Did your days with the trombone inform your guitar playing? Metheny was a trumpet player before he was a guitarist. What made (Polish musician) Wanda Landowska step up to a harpsichord? What made Schubert write when he was flaking away from syphilis and never really heard any of his music performed? We depend on these people, but we don’t know where they’re coming from. Musicians just as beings are real question marks. I listen to Bill Evans, Iris Dement, a lot of Pat Metheny, more Bill Evans. I just write what I can, finding a tune that touches a place nothing else reaches. I listen to everything and really don’t think there are musical styles. From what genres do you draw your influences?Ī guitar sounds good if you just drop it on the floor. ![]() ![]() You’re generally considered to have a style all your own. ![]() Kottke, who appears March 30 at the Stoughton Opera House, took time to answer a few questions for Isthmus. He holds an honorary doctorate in music performance from UW-Milwaukee, where he conducts annual guitar workshops, and a “Certificate of Significant Achievement in Not Playing the Trombone” from the University of Texas at Brownsville. Kottke, now 73, picked up the guitar at age 11 after experimenting with the violin and trombone. He is primarily an instrumentalist, but has been known occasionally to sing in a voice he describes as “geese farts on a muggy day.” A child of the ‘60s folk scene, native of Athens, Georgia, and longtime Twin Cities resident, sets the bar with his finger-picking style of playing. Kottke is one of the nation’s finest practitioners of the finger-picking style.Īccording to fans, Leo Kottke may be the world’s consummate acoustic guitarist. ![]()
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