Jay Nordlinger Biography
Jay Nordlinger is an American journalist. He is a senior editor of National Review and a book fellow of the National Review Institute. Furthermore, Jay is also a music critic for The New Criterion and The Conservative. In 1990, Jay worked for The Weekly Standard magazine. Later, in the 2000s, he was music critic for the New York Sun. Moreover, he assisted the speechwriting team of George W. Bush in the last six weeks of the 2000 presidential election.
Jay Nordlinger Age
Jay Nordlinger was born on November 21 1963 in Ann Arbor, Michigan, United States. He is 59 years old as of 2022.
Jay Nordlinger Net worth
Nordlinger earns his income from his work as a senior editor of National Review, and a book fellow of the National Review Institute. He also earns his income from selling his books. Moreover, he also earns his income from the Awards industry and other related organizations. Jay has an estimated net worth of $ 2 million dollars.
Jay Nordlinger Education
Jay Nordlinger Family
Jay Nordlinger was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, the United States to his father who worked in the education sector and his mother was an artist. He lives in New York with his family.
Jay Nordlinger Image
Jay Nordlinger Journalist
Since 2002, Jay Nordlinger hosted a series of public interviews at the Salzburg Festival. With Mona Charen, he hosts the Need to Know podcast, and he also hosts a podcast called “Q&A.” In 2011, he filmed The Human Parade, with Jay Nordlinger, a TV series bringing hour-long interviews with various personalities.
In 2007, National Review Books published Here, There & Everywhere: Collected Writings of Jay Nordlinger, comprising some 100 pieces on various subjects. In 2012, Encounter Books published Peace, They Say A History of the Nobel Peace Prize, the Most Famous and Controversial Prize in the World. Encounter Books published Children of Monsters in 2015: An Inquiry into the Sons and Daughters of Dictators.
Jay Nordlinger Awards
In 2001, he received the Eric Breindel Award for Excellence in Opinion Journalism, an annual award, given by the News Corporation, in honor of its late editorial-page editor. It is meant to go to a journalist who demonstrates “love of country and its democratic institutions” and “bears witness to the evils of totalitarianism.”
Also in 2001, he won the annual award of the Chan Foundation for Journalism and Culture. The award and the foundation were established in honor of Zhu Xi Chan, the Hong Kong newspaper owner whose pages covered events in Chairman Mao Zedong’s China. The award is intended for a journalist “who uses his talents to work for freedom and democracy in China.”
- Digging In: Further Collected Writings of Jay Nordlinger 2016
- Children of Monsters: An Inquiry Into the Sons and Daughters of Dictators 2015
- Peace, They Say: A History of the Nobel Peace Prize, the Most Famous and Controversial Prize in the World 2012
- Here, There & Everywhere: Collected Writings of Jay Nordlinger 2007
At the end of last season, I began a chronicle with a note on a harpsichord recital, which took place in Weill Recital Hall. Here I go again. This time, the performer was Jean Rondeau, a Frenchman in his late twenties. He has a musical name and a poetical name. Perhaps he should one day give a recital of rondos, or rondeaux. In the press, he has been described as a “bad-ass virtuoso” and a “sex symbol” also, more plainly, as “hip.” Well, then.
In Weill Recital Hall, he played a program of Bach and Scarlatti (Domenico Scarlatti, the keyboard genius, not Alessandro Scarlatti, his father, also a composer, who is best known for vocal works). This program bore a title, indicating a theme: “Italian Recycling.” It included, for example, Bach’s Italian Concerto. But no one needs a theme, except administrators and critics: the public simply wants music.
Rondeau’s instrument the harpsichord was beautiful to look at. The performer himself was interesting to look at: with masses of hair, including a bushy beard. I can’t judge him as a “sex symbol” or not, but I can tell you that he looks more like a folk musician than a classical performer, to say nothing of a harpsichordist. He did not treat his instrument with kid gloves. He had no compunction about whaling on that thing.
I appreciated his boldness, but sometimes Rondeau was more aggressive than the music called for. He did some intelligent, refined, and exciting playing. He also did some overly blunt playing, I would say. There was also the matter of accuracy. The harpsichord is an “exposed,” or exposing, instrument and missed notes stick out like sore thumbs. At least we knew we were not listening to a studio recording.
I find it interesting that the harpsichord is still a going concern, and that young people even the hip! want to play it. I will confess to you that, most of the time, I would rather hear Bach, Scarlatti, and others played on a piano a modern piano than on a harpsichord. Perhaps I am insufficiently conservative. I tend to think of harpsichord recitals as historical excursions rather than normal, modern events.
The Italian Concerto, the Andante:
But let me tell you something about the second movement of the Italian Concerto, the Andante: it is surely made for the harpsichord, with those pluckings underneath the melody. A pianist rightly imitates the harpsichord in this movement. And the last movement, the Presto? Most pianists and harpsichordists take it like the wind. They play it so fast, they’re liable to scant the music. Jean Rondeau took it at a shockingly deliberate pace. I liked it.
Over at the New York Philharmonic, there was a new concerto, a double concerto, for pipa and cello. That former instrument is “a short-necked fretted lute of Chinese origin.” I have quoted a dictionary. The word “pipa” means “loquat,” a fruit that the instrument resembles, in shape. The pipa is not to be confused with the erhu, another string instrument, which tends to whine or twang. I once heard a man play “Amazing Grace” on this instrument in Central Park. Nice.
New York Chronicle
In any event, the audience was on its feet after the Rachmaninoff concerto. I was standing with them. The concerto had been weird—really weird but there was still Pletnevian power in it (and Rachmaninoff’s, too). Moreover, we were applauding a man who represents a great tradition, the tradition of Russian piano playing, stretching back at least to Rubinstein (Anton, not the Polish-born pianist of a later generation, Artur). With a “Who, me?” shrug, Pletnev sat down for an encore.
It was a Scarlatti sonata, the one in D minor, K. 9, or L. 413 if you like. It was classic Pletnev: wizardly, beguiling, bewitching. He stretched the rhythms to the limits, but not beyond. He was imaginative but respectful. Also, he employed a number of colors. There was a whole musical world within this little piece. Pletnev makes you realize what a piano can do, in the right hands. No one else can play Scarlatti like this equally well, maybe, but not in the same fashion.
Horowitz, Haskil, and the rest of the great Scarlatti players would have rubbed their eyes. I myself was shaking my head. It was scarcely believable. After intermission, rno played Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances(making the concert all-Rachmaninoff). The disorder of the concerto was gone. The Dances were correct, stylish, and pleasurable. They had their quirkiness without being nutty.
The orchestra was smooth, adhering to the musical line. The unison playing in the strings was exemplary, with those strings singing as one. Plus, the rno has some great principles, in the woodwind section, not least. The second dance, the waltz, had its desired spookiness. Though, in all three, Kirill Karabits showed himself as a fine leader. The audience wanted an encore. What could it be? There is no Rachmaninoff encore, really not for orchestra.
The only possibility, I thought, was an arrangement of the Vocalise. And, lo, that’s what Karabits and the rno played. However, the audience wanted yet another encore. “Something rousing,” I thought (after the dreamy Vocalise). I could not think of another Rachmaninoff encore. The orchestra turned to Glière: the Russian Sailors’ Dance from The Red Poppy. It was played, and conducted, to the nth degree. It was a carnival, a riot, of Russianness.
Amazingly, the audience still wanted more. They clapped and clapped. A New York audience, on a weeknight especially? Usually, they (we) are racing to the exits. A performer can barely make it off the stage after the first curtain call. “Must be a lot of Russians here,” I thought. Finally, in response to popular demand, the orchestra played a third encore: the overture to Taras Bulba, by Lysenko, the Ukrainian composer.
Incidentally, Kirill Karabits, as a youngster in Kiev, went to the Lysenko Music School. And when we say “Lysenko,” we are not referring to Stalin’s agronomist, the author of Lysenkoism. That was Trofim Lysenko; the composer’s first name was Mykola. What a strange trip this night was. I am still living in its atmosphere, as I write. The next night, in the same hall, the New York Philharmonic played a concert.
On the podium was a guest conductor, Matthias Pintscher. The composer? Yes, but he conducts too (obviously). Pintscher is the music director of the Ensemble Intercontemporain in Paris. This is the group founded by Pierre Boulez in the middle 1970s. The Philharmonic concert began with Ravel (Alborada del gracioso) and ended with Stravinsky (The Firebird). In between came a work of Pintscher’s own, written in 2011.
This was mar’eh for violin and orchestra. Composers are in love with all smalls. I think that Copland, today, would write Appalachian spring (or maybe Appalachian spring?). Additionally, in any event, Pintscher’s title is a Hebrew word meaning sight, appearance, vision. He dedicated his piece to Luigi Nono, the late composer, and also to Julia Fischer, the violinist, who gave the work’s premiere. In David Geffen Hall, the soloist was Renaud Capuçon (elder brother of Gautier, the cellist). I will give a sense of what I heard.
Jay Nordlinger Facebook
Los Tweets más recientes de Jay Nordlinger (@jaynordlinger). Senior Editor, National Review; music critic, The New Criterion. New York, N.Y..
Last Updated On:2nd January 2023