Doubles and Triples

Fri., March 4

Before I get too far into this, I should clarify that this column is ostensibly about Friday's triple-threat concert featuring the Pacifica, Ying and Chiara quartets. True to form, Miller Theatre at Columbia University has once again demonstrated programmatic vision by pairing the popular Mendelssohn Octet with Darius Milhaud's rarely performed Double Quartet and Steve Reich's mesmerizing Triple Quartet. And instead of one live ensemble doing the karaoke thing with prerecorded backup tracks-an oddly common concert-hall presentation style that always makes me question why I didn't just stay home and listen to the CD-these three groups will take the stage en masse, sans Memorex.

That said, tonight I'm keeping company with a bottle of Wild Turkey and toasting Hunter S. Thompson, the man who taught journalists to write by their own rules, to slip the noose of objectivity and be a player in the story. In light of the recent death of our guru of drugs and creative story filing, I'm sitting here wondering if the time isn't ripe to take classical- music journalism gonzo.

It might solve a lot of the field's image problems. Admittedly, it's probably hard not to be serious about an activity that requires such a massive professional and financial investment, not to mention many long hours of solitary toil in a small practice closet. But maybe if we let go of the "seriousness" of everything we'd have a shot at making the concert hall as interesting as HST made politics.

It probably wouldn't even be that difficult with a bit of perspective adjustment. Like any field, classical music boasts its share of Texas-sized egos, corporate infighting and Page Six-worthy gossip. But unlike rock journalism, the classical field generally finds it more appropriate to discuss a conductor's baton technique while politely ignoring his stint in rehab and recent marital infidelities. Drunken starlets do not present us with Grammys on national television.

I declare those days over. I have never inhaled an illegal substance in the company of any of the previously mentioned quartet members. I have, however, succumbed to a sort of non-chemical hallucinatory awe as the Pacifica presented all five of Elliott Carter's string quartets in one evening a few seasons back. The concert ran well past the three-hour mark, so I hopped a cab home. With Carter's complex lines still in my ear, the neon flash of the city seemed its own sort of symphony.

Miller Theatre, 2960 B'way (116th St.), 212-854-7799; 8, $25.