I’ll be the first one to admit that I have been a very, very slack blogger just lately: I’ve been out to see and hear things almost every night, but workload, official assignments and my much-discussed technical problems have kept me from writing much of anything.

Last night I heard Einstein on the Beach, or at least a big chunk of it, played live at Carnegie Hall. This is music that I’ve loved, and have wanted to hear played live, for at least 20 years. (Anticipating the next question: BAM revived Einstein in 1992; I moved to New York in 1993.)

It wasn’t always perfectly tidy from a technical perspective, although there were only two really noticeable glitches, from which recovery was relatively painless. But violinist Timothy Fain’s slashing athleticism (complete with the same facial expressions Olympic gymnasts wear when they nail a dismount), Lisa Bielawa’s soaring voice, Lucinda Childs’s ageless narration, a fantastic effort from the choir and — not least — the surging, roaring energy of "Dance 1" and "Building/Train" were all things that made this a deeply moving experience for me.

I’ve really only got one small bone to pick with Einstein as it sounds now: At least as far back as 1992 (to judge by the Nonesuch recording), Glass softened the tone of the tenor saxophone solo in "Building/Train" in a way that just doesn’t excite me as much as the older conception. Andrew Sterman’s handsome playing sounded as if it was on loan from a Coltrane ballads session; I miss the fluttering figures from the entire wind section, including the almost free-jazz frenzy from Richard Landry, that was in the first version of "Building" I ever heard: an excerpt of a live performance at William S. Burroughs’s Nova Convention, issued by Giorno Poetry Systems in 1979 (and available for audition right here).

How you, do you suppose, will it take before we starting seeing "period-instrument" performances of Einstein, along with other earlier works like Music in 12 Parts. I appreciate that today’s digital synthesizers are more versatile and reliable than the wheezy Farfisa organs Glass used in the early days. But I really do miss the specific sound texture of those rolling, choogling bass arpeggios.

Here begins a quick run-down on some of the other important things I’ve seen lately… an attempt to assuage some of my guilty feelings about not blogging more:

Saturday, Dec. 1: I think everyone expected the New York Philharmonic to chew up Gustavo Dudamel and spit him out; the orchestra is notoriously resistant to hype. But by Saturday night, it was clear that the musicians had been won over by Dudamel’s genuine talent — and perhaps his sheer enthusiasm, too, although you’d never know it because the only Philharmonic musician who ever seems to smile on stage is Cynthia Phelps, and in her case it could just be her viola pushing her cheek up.

Gil Shaham smiled—quite a lot, actually. It made you wish there was a big screen somewhere and a camera trained directly on the podium. It would have been fun to watch the other side of Shaham’s exchanges with Dudamel. I’d love to hear Chávez played more often, and I’d loved hearing the Dvořák played with so much style and energy. Even the Prokofiev, not one of my favorite pieces, was appealing.

Friday, Nov. 30: If you didn’t see Richmond thrash-metal band Lamb of God on its current tour, it’ll be a while before you get another chance: the band is taking 2008 off to write, record and relax. As far as I’m concerned, Lamb of God is currently the strongest American metal act going — punchy, accomplished and politically engaged — and this was a characteristically hard-loud-fast show. During one song a gargantuan circle pit started swirling on the floor level: it looked like someone had pulled a drain-stopper out of the middle of the audience. Amazing to watch from upstairs.

Killswitch Engage, the headliner, turned out to be a better live act than I’d anticipated. Vocalist Howard Jones has the death-metal gargle and the metalcore bloody throat screech down well enough. But there’s a point in almost every song lately where Jones just opens up and lets his natural baritone soar in a massive, instantly memorable chorus, and it’s an incredibly powerful thing to hear. (It’s also pretty amazing to watch a room full of tough metal dudes unguardedly singing along.)

I’ll do my best to continue with the recent catch-up — at the very least a few words on Iphigénie and Vanessa. But not tonight, uh uh. See, Dr. LP is due in from Miami, FL at 11pm tonight, barring weather delays (knocks wood), so the only place I’m going tonight is to the airport.

Playlist:

Michael Harrison – Revelation (Cantaloupe)

Ludwig van Beethoven – Symphonies Nos. 3 & 8 – Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie/Paavo Järvi (RCA Red Seal)

Jean Sibelius – Violin Concerto; Magnus Lindberg – Violin Concerto (Sony Classical)

Tyshawn Sorey – that/not (Firehouse 12)

The Mars Volta – The Bedlam in Goliath (GSL/Universal, due out Jan. 29)

Lisa Bielawa – Kafka Songs – Carla Kihlstedt; Lamentations for a City – Jacqueline Leclair, Cerddorion Vocal Ensemble/Kristina Boerger; A Collective Cleansing – Lisa Bielawa (Tzadik)

Dillinger Escape Plan – Ire Works (Relapse)

Karlheinz Stockhausen – Stimmung – Theatre of Voices/Paul Hillier (Harmonia Mundi);
Elektronische Musik 1952–1960 (Stockhausen Verlag); Gruppen – Berlin Philharmonic/Claudio Abbado, Friedrich Goldmann and Marcus Creed (Deutsche Gramophon, from DG Web Shop)