Shulgold: Off-key musicians adorably atrocious

Published June 16, 2007 at midnight

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I have a confession: I get a little bored hearing the world's greatest music played flawlessly by world-class musicians each week. All that perfection makes me restless.

So, permit me to sing (off-key) in praise of bad musicians.

But not just those unable to hit the notes. This is a special type of bad. Let's hear it for artists with tin ears who've proudly lowered the bar of musical performance.

We'll start our survey with a new Scottish group, whose name says it all: The Really Terrible Orchestra.

Many who've heard them have embraced these amateur classical musicians as a lovely alternative to pros who play, um, really well.

The RTO (as they call themselves) joins an exclusive artistic club with a long and storied history - one that deserves serious attention.

Anyone can pick up an instrument they've never clutched and elicit dreadful sounds from it. This natural talent can continue despite years of practice and pricey music lessons.

But being adorably atrocious is tricky - it demands an earnest striving to hit all the notes, but with results that must border on the amusing without being dull or overly painful.

Thus, we exclude American Idol loser William Hung from consideration. He's bad and dull.

Bad done well is something to behold, especially when delivered with a straight face. That takes commitment - and the RTO is dedicated.

According to the group's Web site, the players gather on most Wednesday evenings at 7:45 p.m. in the St. George's School for Girls, Garscube Terrace, Edinburgh.

The RTO has a music director, Sir Richard Neville-Towle - though the orchestra's Web site casts doubts on his knighthood.

The group is in the process of releasing a CD - which may or may not be available on this side of the Atlantic - but it's unlikely these charming amateurs will ever reach international stardom. And less likely that they can approach the legendary stature of an orchestra that deserves the title, Granddaddy of Them All.

I give you the Portsmouth Sinfonia.

The ensemble was formed in 1970 by some heavyweights in the world of cutting-edge music in England: Brian Eno, Robert Fripp and Gavin Bryars. Their philosophy was simple: Membership was predicated on an inability to play one's chosen instrument.

Two LPs were released stateside, kicking off with Portsmouth Sinfonia Plays the Popular Classics in 1974. That disc was honored as comedy record of the year by Rolling Stone - and several prestigious British newspapers observed its 30th anniversary with lengthy tributes.

On the heels of that debut, the Sinfonia appeared in concert at London's Royal Albert Hall(!) - an event released as Hallelujah.

Neither record has surfaced on CD, which is criminal, considering the junk that has been reissued.

Popular Classics became the official Party Record in my home through the '70s. I recall gatherings of friends, who were amazed at the Sinfonia's irresistibly chaotic sound.

Few renderings can compare with the inept trumpet entrance in the group's destruction of Also sprach Zarathustra (the fanfare from 2001: A Space Odyssey). Brilliantly bad.

Speaking of which, we now turn to the Grande Dame of Vocal Ineptitude: Florence Foster Jenkins.

For those unfamiliar with this legendary songbird (or who didn't see Souvenirs, Stephen Temperley's play about her, presented at the Arvada Center), Madame Jenkins (1868-1944) was a wealthy divorcee who flourished in New York high society in her later years, when the voice had, shall we say, fallen on hard times.

That extraordinary instrument was captured in the studio and released as a disc (still in print) titled The Glory (????) of the Human Voice . Here, one can revel in her immortal rendition of the demanding Queen of the Night aria from Mozart's Magic Flute, and her amazing take on The Musical Snuffbox. In each, Madame Jenkins attempts to conquer every high note - and falls short by three time zones.

She was at her best in concert. The aging diva would host lavish events in New York's swankiest hotels, where she provided the musical entertainment - earnestly warbling ditties for a hip audience that dared not guffaw within earshot of their hostess.

A highlight was her encore, Joaquin Valverde's Clavelitos, in which she gaily tossed flowers into the audience. If a repeat reading were demanded, pianist Cosme McMoon would wade into the crowd to retrieve the blossoms.

One day, our diva was involved in a taxicab fender-bender on a New York street. As the drivers argued, she discovered that she could reach an unprecedented high F. In gratitude, she sent the cabbie a box of cigars.

Amazingly, she had rivals. Atrocities by other divas-in-their-own-mind have been collected in The Muse Surmounted. My favorite is the in-concert Miserere from Trovatore featuring the croaking Olive Middleton. When she nails an unexpected high C, the crowd goes wild.

All these immortal artists are gone - so it's comforting that the cause of true badness lives on in the work of the Really Terrible Orchestra.

We connoisseurs of cacophony embrace these gifted performers of the past and present for one simple reason: Anyone can labor hard to become good at what they do - but those who are effortlessly and blissfully terrible come along all too rarely.

Though the judges on American Idol might take issue with that.

Best of the Worst

With these musicians, bad music never sounded so good:

Florence Foster Jenkins

• The Really Terrible Orchestra

• Portsmouth Sinfonia

• Jonathan and Darlene Edwards

• Ultra Lounge: Wild, Cool and Swingin', Vol. 3Mrs. Miller The Ed Sullivan Show. Visit www.mrsmillersworld.com.

Shulgoldm@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-5296

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