On Lotte Obratsov

Blackie's Blues


I remember the place we met - an old army barracks that had been converted to a rehearsal studio. The September sun entered the narrow faded room through the wood frame window. Outside the window was an apple tree with small misshapen fruit. It was quiet. The old barracks were somewhat out of the way, on the outskirts of the city.

Lotte sat at a very sturdy but scarred wooden work table going over a score.

I had only recently met the fellow who introduced us, a friendly but empty-headed tenor.
“Here's Lotte, a unique individual, you'll love her ... one of a kind..”

Lotte ignored his somewhat patronizing introduction and began sharing her enthusiastic and completely original, to my mind, thoughts on Berlioz, just as if we were old friends resuming an interrupted chat.

As we (mostly Lotte), compared the songs from “Les Nuits D'ete” Lotte illustrated her ideas by singing phrases, tapping out rhythms and interjecting surprisingly (at first) earthy colloquialisms such as “Any one can tell, that passage is flat as piss on a plate!”

Lotte moved from Berlioz to a discussion of a contemporary composer whom I had never heard of, and when I confessed my ignorance, she described his avant-garde experiments with such clarity and humour that I put aside my prejudice and became quite anxious to hear his compositions.

But I was ever more curious to get to know Lotte. I was captivated, as so may audiences have been, before and since.

From the road,
Blackie

Blackie's Blues

By Blackie Schwartzkopf

On: The Department of Ornithology

Dear Friends,

Most people are aware of the musicality of birds. Although our birds certainly have great musical minds, their talents transcend mere singing. In fact, our Department of Ornithology has few musical rivals.

When not composing or performing, the birds live in a trailer, which appears to be a cage.

Their trainer is a poet known to me only as Nick, or Nikipolidis

He refuses to count the birds, or at least refuses to admit to counting them

He probably took up bird training because there is very little money in poetry.

Only the parrot can speak English. Since she is very old, she often doesn't bother.

English words, however are often heard in the birds' performances.

According to Nikipolidis, birds use their wings to scoop the music up with the air and beaks to filter the songs out. The birds, he claims, use their eyes to pierce and snare the churning events below and hold them with a few qualifying glances. These they pull back and let form into music.

The performance begins as the trailer is pulled by acrobats to the center of the ring. The birds fly out of the top of the roofless trailer.

They arrange themselves with dignity and precision, perching on the furniture and scenic backdrop which remains on stage from the performance of Century.

Nikipolidis conducts, but does not keep time.

I doubt if I will ever tire of their songs.

From the road,

Blackie