#I want the musicians who gave the show it’s distinct sound for the final season

[vanessakimballs]

RT continues to fumble, how are you gonna disrespect trocadero this fucking badly?

[wherespacepooh]

Behind the Scenes of the Grand Ice Shows according to Sound Designer Keiichi Yano (Part 2)

Part 1 is here.

In Part 2, Yano-san brings from behind the scenes in ice shows (1) the making of Machida’s prologue in Don Quixote, (2) Hanyu’s surprise collaboration with Fukuma-san on Ballade No.1, and (3) (again surprise...and last minute) collaboration with guitarist Takeo Konno on Parisienne Walkway on the final day of FaOI in Niigata. Together with Part 1, this could alternatively be named “the 20 times Hanyu-senshu was a bother (read: lovable brat) with his crazy ideas.” Yuzu really seeks out and believes in the breathing and ever-changing aspect of live performance, doesn’t he?

He also talks about (4) what the job entails and who would be a good fit (Daddy Mura makes an appearance!) and leaves us with (5) a heartfelt message regarding his thoughts on program choice and the treatment of music.

Translated by gladi. Feel free to repost text in entirety with source. Images belong to Getty Images (#1), Fantasy on Ice (#2, #3, #4, #5), and Keiichi Yano (#6).

Original source: https://victorysportsnews.com/articles/4508/original (July 08, 2017)

Behind the Scenes of the Grand Ice Shows according to Sound Designer Keiichi Yano (Part 2)

Various ice shows are held at ice rinks around the country during the off season before the full-scale FS season takes off. In addition to splendid performances delighting audiences, new programs for the following season are also revealed. To Yano-san, both as sound expert and as music editor, it is actually a busy time of the year. In this second round, he talks about episodes from such ice shows and his thoughts toward figure skating.

Text by Yamane Ito

Ice show and professional commitment

The pleasure of ice shows, after all, is to fully enjoy the performances of active (competing) skaters up close, and to reunite with each and every one of the very unique OBOG's who’d turned pro. With numbers that are somewhat different from competitive programs, there are also guests who perform live [in collaboration]. To Yano-san, it is a pleasant, if buzzing, time of the year.

A few months ago, Yano-san located the sounds of an orchestra tuning from his colossal files. After adding a couple of edits, he delivered it to his client. That is something [orchestras and ensembles] do before classical concerts, operas, and so forth. With the oboe as reference, instrumentalists play the “A” (la in sol-fa) in unison.

"Don Quixote," debuted at an ice show, started with exactly that tuning sound. At the rink doubling as stage, scarlet curtains were stretched across one side, with the spotlight illuminating the center impressively. As a distinctive air of tension settled, the curtains drew open to the left and right with a swoosh––finally––to the entrance of Tatsuki Machida. In a fashion that would never happen in competition, that was the prologue done in [Machida’s] way as a pro skater.

A surprise borne by a live performance

One of the real thrills of an ice show is its live music. From classical to pop, rock and jazz, artists from various genres collaborate with skaters on the ice. What is different from a normal concert is that cheers, screams, and claps would arise from the audience at spots that seem “improbable” to these artists. As we’ve learned previously [in part 1], Yano-san and the like in the acoustics side too, will adjust the volume to go with the jumps and spins.

In general, the classical music world is conservative, and the performers rarely tamper with the original scores. Although that is why it is so named “classical music,” enthusiastic fans of figure skating exist even amidst such a field. Kotaro Fukuma, for example. As a pianist of the international levels, he'd studied at the National Paris Conservatoire and the Berlin University of Art, winning the Cleveland International Piano Competition at the age of 20.

“Fukuma-san is so fond of figure skating, and in fact, even said he was interested in the work that I do. Seemed that he wants to introduce various pieces of music to the skaters."

Stories of classical instrumentalists taken aback by figure skating music are often heard. Conversely, many figure skating fans are shocked by the length of the actual pieces at concerts that assemble music used in the programs. For example, Hanyu-senshu’s “Ballade No. 1” that was just under three minutes [in program], is an ample 9 minutes-long.

“Fukuma-san synchronizes the skaters’ performance and the music in his head, creating a perfect fit."

It was from last year, but they staged a performance where Fukuma-san played the piano live to the “image” of Hanyu-senshu. The piece he played was Chopin’s Ballade No.1 in G Minor, but instead of the score, a monitor was placed in front of the piano. Fukuma-san, with Hanyu-senshu’s movements on screen as measure, gave a perfect performance of the program edit of “Ballade No. 1.” Moreover, all the while he kept to the tempo of Krystian Zimerman (source of the program edit), Fukuma incorporated his own distinctive nuance and emotions as well.

Actually, this wasn’t the first time that Fukuma-san performed “Ballade No. 1” at the rink. In the past, something happened on the ice during the show and they needed time to resurface the ice. To stall time, he played the piece. It was a nice touch, thanks to Fukuma-san’s wit. Hanyu-senshu learned of the episode, and at his request, they collaborated on a live performance of “Ballade No. 1” during the encore of the final day. That was how, in the end, [Fukuma-san] played the piece twice. 

“Hanyu-kun. That was quite a crazy, incredible thing he said! Although, since we are all professionals, we can do it if we want to. Well, we were really getting into the mood of things."

A guitarist’s pride

“Did you see the Niigata performance the other day? It’s Hanyu-kun again, but he asked me, ‘Yano-san, do you have the source for Pari-San?’”

Yano-san, eyes crinkled, already immune to Hanyu-senshu’s outrageous ideas and suggestions, said. “Parisienne Walkway” was the masterpiece of rock guitarist Gary Moore. Lovingly referred to as “Pari-San” by skating fans, it was a popular program that [Hanyu] also performed at the Sochi Olympics.

“There is a live guitarist this time, right? The guitarist in Anri-san’s band.”

For some reason, he understood what Hanyu-senshu was thinking. And after talking of many things, as expected, he “want[ed] to bring out the live guitar.” He said he wanted to collaborate on “Pari-San” on the very last day of the ice show. Just for that, it’s necessary to consult with the musician’s side. We also had to talk to the agency. Above all, it would be awful if it isn’t all conveyed through the show organizer.

“'If everyone is okay with it, I’ll also help.’ The organizer passed on my message to Hanyu-kun. Thereupon, I also heard news that guitarist Takeo Konno said he’d be ‘honored.’ But he wanted time to practice. Hurriedly, we began to rehearse the day before. With Hanyu-kun as well."

By rehearsal the next day (day of performance), we had yet to settle on the details including how to start.

“That morning, the thought suddenly came to me when I woke up. Given the precious opportunity to feature a live guitarist, instead of doing it like a bonus, we should show off the performer properly.”

He immediately went and talked to production. The scenario would be like this. Once Hanyu-senshu retires from the stage to mop himself or something, a phrase from Pari-San abruptly wells up, as guitar solo. Cheers from the audience. He plays the melody once through as if to rouse the crowds. At the peak, Hanyu appears. Going on, and transitioning into the sound source of “Hoochie Coochie Man” in the second half. Guitar strums on as is, matched to the sound source.

The surprise was a great success. Even leaving on “Ballade No.1”’s costume felt somewhat fresh. "Hoochie Coochie Man” is a piece often done in jam sessions, so as a guitarist, Konno-san would probably be able to play it right away. So that was the arrangement, Yano-san smiled as he recounted.

“But he most likely practiced all night long, didn’t he? He was in completely different spirits compared to during rehearsal the day before!”

In search for a successor

I asked Yano-san about his own plans hereafter. It might come as a surprise, but he’s looking for a successor. He doesn’t know how long he can continue to do this work, but the competitive sport of figure skating will continue.

“People who have an interest in such work. Young people who like music. If someone would raise their hands to this, I think I would pass on the baton with pleasure.”

Pros in the field of audio engineering can undertake that part just fine. But the problem is in editing music for programs. Operationally speaking, it’s not hard as long as you don’t mind editing with a computer, or you are not bad at it. But, it’s impossible to keep up without a certain level of understanding about figure skating, love and inquisitive spirit toward music, and commitment. Taste is a requirement too.

“Out of nowhere, someone will say something like ‘choreography will start the day after tomorrow!’ Phone calls just before you are about to get on a plane for a business trip too."

On such occasions, time spent waiting at the airport or in-flight becomes a temporary workshop. At work on the plane ride from Narita (t/n: the airport) to Fukuoka, he has had to send data from his hotel after he lands too. He takes his PC along no matter where he goes.

“Because emails will suddenly arrive. During SEIMEI, [email came] when I was at Yatsugatake on a day off. From Machida-kun, it was when I traveled to Hateruma Island from Ishigaki Island (t/n: according to Google Maps, we’re talking about a two-hour trip).”

At such extent, this is vocational work that cannot be taken up unless you truly like it. Moreover, you must be methodical. Since you deal with a large quantity of data at once, it becomes a problem if you are careless or halfhearted about it.

“I was thinking it would be nice if someone amongst the skaters would come up and inherit my craft. Although I say this as a joke, Mura Takahito-kun. He is interested in acoustics, and often comes and hangs out at the booth. So I told him, ‘Come succeed me!’"

Message from Keiichi Yano

“Although we are happy that, unlike in the past, many skating fans now come to watch live competitions and ice shows, if possible, it would be great if [you] could see the show from beginning to the very end. Leaving your seats and not returning until the time comes for your target skater to perform, and so forth. From our perspective, it really is a pity. This isn’t a complaint or a remonstration, but nonetheless I want the show to be seen in its entirety. It’s good to see the skaters’ personality shine through the music too, and in such a way, watch from one skater to the other and judge and compare.”

Yano-san has many thoughts he’d like to convey, borne out of a long time spent supporting the world of figure skating. Not only towards the audience, but to skaters hereon and their coaches, everyone in the field. We publish his message here.

“In recent years, there are more and more skaters who are committed and particular about music, but on many occasions, when deciding what to skate to, I think many skaters use the so-called ‘pieces they are given’––from coaches, parents, choreographers, and so forth. Because they spend at least a year skating to that music, I still hope they would be particular about program choice, with the thought of ‘[wanting] to express this piece' in mind.

I think the essentials to figure skating are (1) skating boots (2) musical program and (3) costume. I hope they could seek out and absorb from many sources, and turning those into their own thing when approaching their own performances. Much of the music preexists, and even to the extent of not being influenced by the intention of the composer, I hope they could create ‘their own particular story.’

But, please still [respect | take care in the treatment of] the original music. Although it doesn’t matter to add a few sound effects because of the choreography, I hope people can do their best to avoid arrangements where you can somehow no longer tell what the original music was. I speak from the point of view that, still, we should cherish the thoughts of the composer at the time of composition. Finally, I hope that we can cherish our beginnings––what we thought, our original purpose, when we first started to like figure skating.”

Interviewee: Keiichi Yano Sound Designer/ Music Editor-Programmer. Born in Fukuoka Prefecture in 1957. Started working as Audio Technician since 1975. In charge of audio at YAMAHA Tokyo branch in 1978. Currently works freelance as Figure Skating Sound and Audio Producer.

Writer: Yamane Ito Creative Director turned Copywriter/ Football Researcher. Published various sports-related books, mostly specializing in football, and one about figure skating––『フィギュアスケート・プログラムに秘められた物語』

[papermoonloveslucy]

100 ARTISTS & ENTERTAINERS OF THE CENTURY

June 8, 1998

Lucille Ball was one of the figures chosen to appear on the cover of Time Magazine’s June 8, 1998 issue celebrating the top 100 artists and entertainers of the century.  In a drawing by Al Hirschfeld, Ball shares the cover with filmmaker Stephen Spielberg, musician Bob Dylan, and artist Pablo Picasso. 

In the table of contents page, there is a photo of Lucille Ball, and her article is listed below Rodgers and Hammerstein, names that were frequently mentioned on “I Love Lucy.”  Also mentioned was Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando, and Charlie Chaplin, who Lucy embodied on several occasions. 

LUCILLE BALL: The TV Star

The first lady of comedy brought us laughter as well as emotional truth. No wonder everybody loved Lucy

By Richard Zoglin

It happened somewhere between the clunky premier episode (”Lucy Thinks Ricky Is Trying to Murder Her”) and her first classic routine, the Vitameatavegamin commercial, in which Lucy gets steadily soused as she keeps downing spoonfuls of the alcohol-laced potion she's trying to hawk on TV. (Watch the spasm that jolts her face when she gets her first taste of the foul brew; it could serve as a textbook for comics well into the next millennium.) "I Love Lucy” debuted on CBS in October 1951, but at first it looked little different from other domestic comedies that were starting to make the move from radio to TV, like “My Favorite Husband”, the radio show Ball had co-starred in for three years. Lucy Ricardo was, in those early “I Love Lucy” episodes, just a generic daffy housewife. Ethel (Vivian Vance), her neighbor and landlady, was a stock busybody. Desi Arnaz, as bandleader Ricky Ricardo, hadn't yet become one of the finest straight men in TV history. William Frawley, as Fred Mertz, seemed a Hollywood has-been in search of work, which he was.

Then magic struck. Guided by Ball's comic brilliance, the show developed the shape and depth of great comedy. Lucy's quirks and foibles -- her craving to be in show biz, her crazy schemes that always backfired, the constant fights with the Mertzes -- became as particularized and familiar as the face across the dinner table. For four out of its six seasons (only six!), “I Love Lucy” was the No. 1-rated show on television; at its peak, in 1952-53, it averaged an incredible 67.3 rating, meaning that on a typical Monday night, more than two-thirds of all homes with TV sets were tuned to Lucy.

Ball's dizzy redhead with the elastic face and saucer eyes was the model for scores of comic TV females to follow. She and her show, moreover, helped define a still nascent medium. Before “I Love Lucy”, TV was feeling its way, adapting forms from other media. Live TV drama was an outgrowth of Broadway theater; game shows were transplanted from radio; variety shows and early comedy stars like Milton Berle came out of vaudeville. “I Love Lucy” was unmistakably a television show, and Ball the perfect star for the small screen. "I look like everybody's idea of an actress," she once said, "but I feel like a housewife." Sid Caesar and Jackie Gleason were big men with larger-than-life personas; Lucy was one of us.

She grew up in Jamestown, N.Y., where her father, an electrician, died when she was just three. (1) At 15 she began making forays to New York City to try to break into show business. She had little luck as an actress but worked as a model before moving to Hollywood in 1933 for a part in the chorus of “Roman Scandals”. Strikingly pretty, with chestnut hair dyed blond (until MGM hairdressers, seeking a more distinctive look, turned it red in 1942), she landed bit parts in B movies and moved up to classy fare like “Stage Door”, in which she held her own with Katharine Hepburn and Ginger Rogers.

Buster Keaton, the great silent clown working as a consultant at MGM, recognized her comic gifts and worked with her on stunts. She got a few chances to show off her talent in films like “Du Barry Was a Lady” (with Red Skelton) and “Fancy Pants” (with Bob Hope) but never broke through to the top. By the end of the 1940s, with Ball approaching 40, her movie career was all but finished.

It was her husband Desi -- a Cuban bandleader she married shortly after they met on the set of “Too Many Girls” in 1940 -- who urged her to try television. CBS was interested in Ball, but not in the fellow with the pronounced Spanish accent she wanted to play her husband. To prove that the audience would accept them as a couple, Lucy and Desi cooked up a vaudeville act and took it on tour. It got rave reviews ("a sock new act," said Variety), and CBS relented.

But there were other haggles. Lucy and Desi wanted to shoot the show in Hollywood, rather than in New York City, where most TV was then being done. And for better quality, they insisted on shooting on film, rather than doing it live and recording on kinescope. CBS balked at the extra cost; the couple agreed to take a salary cut in return for full ownership of the program. It was a shrewd business decision: “I Love Lucy” was the launching pad for Desilu Productions, which (with other shows, like “Our Miss Brooks” and “The Untouchables”) became one of TV's most successful independent producers, before Paramount bought it in 1967.

Today “I Love Lucy”, with its farcical plots, broad physical humor and unliberated picture of marriage, is sometimes dismissed as a relic. Yet the show has the timeless perfection of a crystal goblet. For all its comic hyperbole, Lucy explored universal themes: the tensions of married life, the clash between career and home, the meaning of loyalty and friendship. The series also reflected most of the decade's important social trends. The Ricardos made their contribution to the baby boom in January 1953 -- TV's Little Ricky was born on the same day that Ball gave birth, by caesarean, to her second child, Desi Jr. (A daughter, Lucie, had been born in 1951.) They traveled to California just as the nation was turning west, in a hilarious series of shows that epitomized our conception of --and obsession with -- Hollywood glamour. And when the nation began moving to the suburbs, so too, in their last season, did the Ricardos.

Ball was a lithe and inventive physical comedian, and her famous slapstick bits -- trying to keep up with a candy assembly line, stomping grapes in an Italian wine vat -- were justly celebrated. But she was far more than a clown. Her mobile face could register a whole dictionary of emotions; her comic timing was unmatched; her devotion to the truth of her character never flagged. She was a tireless perfectionist. For one scene in which she needed to pop a paper bag, she spent three hours testing bags to make sure she got the right size and sound.

Most of all, I Love Lucy was grounded in emotional honesty. Though the couple had a tempestuous marriage off-screen (Desi was an unrepentant philanderer), the Ricardos' kisses showed the spark of real attraction. In the episode where Lucy finds out she is pregnant, she can't break the news to Ricky because he is too busy. Finally, she takes a table at his nightclub show and passes him an anonymous note asking that he sing a song, “We're Having a Baby”, to the father-to-be. As Ricky roams the room looking for the happy couple, he spies Lucy and moves on. Then he does a heartrending double take, glides to his knees and asks, voice cracking, whether it's true. Finishing the scene together onstage, the couple are overcome by the real emotion of their own impending baby. Director William Asher, dismayed by the unrehearsed tears, even shot a second, more upbeat take. Luckily he used the first one; it's the most touching moment in sitcom history.

Tired of the grind of a weekly series, Lucy and Desi ended “I Love Lucy” in 1957, when it was still No. 1. For three more years, they did hourlong specials, then broke up the act for good when they divorced in 1960. Ball returned to TV with two other popular (if less satisfying) TV series, “The Lucy Show” and “Here's Lucy”; made a few more movies (starring in “Mame” in 1974); and attempted a final comeback in the 1986 ABC sitcom “Life with Lucy”, which lasted an ignominious eight weeks. But “I Love Lucy” lives on in reruns around the world, an endless loop of laughter and a reminder of the woman who helped make TV a habit, and an art.

TIME senior writer Richard Zoglin still watches “I Love Lucy” reruns each day at 9 a.m.

(1) Ball’s father did not die in Jamestown, New York. He died in Wyandotte, Michigan, while on assignment for Bell Telephone. 

Some editions of the issue had an overlay cover that completely blocked Lucy from view!  She is not even mentioned in the text on the overlay!