Benevolent Dictator Jamie bought me a mug with reindeer on it. It is ENORMOUS, and holds a proportionately enormous amount of hot cocoa with marshmallows. This pleases me.

Y’know what else pleases me? College Night is tonight! I’m gearing myself up for Symphonie fantastique. It’s not every day the pizzicato is representative of a head falling from the guillotine, you know? (Incidentally, were you aware that the real title is An episode in the life of an artist and that Symphonie fantastique is a subtitle? I wasn’t!)

I think there are still a couple tickets left if you’d like to share in my fabulously morbid experience. You can purchase them here, and then afterwards enjoy the free college night food that B. D. Jamie and I will be setting up in the Grand Tier while you’re taking your bathroom break.

Y’know what else pleases me? The microwave in the break room makes flawless popcorn.

o “An Episode in the Life of an Artist” op. 14 by Hector Berlioz. NHK Symphony Orchestra, primer movimiento “Rêveries – Passions”. Parte 2.

II mov “Un bal”, III mov (parte 2) “Scène aux champs”, IV mov “Marche au supplice”, V mov “Songe d’une nuit de sabbat”.

Nuestro andar parisino nos llevo a un lugar histórico lleno de pasión por la livertad y la democarcia La Ópera de Bastilla, que está situada en medio de la plaza de la Bastille, y que fue el lugar desde donde se inició la revolución francesa, en 1789. Esta plaza se encuentra en el llamado 12º distrito de la ciudad, y fue construida en 1982, sobre una idea del entonces presidente de la república François Mitterrand, y se inauguró el 13 de Julio 1989, justo 200 años más tarde que la toma de la Bastille por los revolucionarios franceses. La idea de la construcción de la ópera, era reconstruir el clásico Ópera Garnier, permitiendo también dar un nuevo aliento a la ópera, en un lugar moderno, de arquitectura vanguardista, y permitiendo más tecnología al nivel de sonidos y luces para los espectáculos. En este lugar se representan obras contemporáneas, y la primera representación tuvo lugar el 17 de marzo de 1990, con los “Troyens”, de Berlioz. Si tienes suerte y quieres ver alguna representación en este lugar puedes visitar el sito de la Opera de la Bastilla y chacar cartelera.

www.operadeparis.fr/cns11/live/onp/, www.ciudadluz.net/arqui/opera-bastille.htm

Wednesday 14 October 2009 at 7.30pm

Symphony Hall, Birmingham

Valery Gergiev  conductor
Sergei Semishkur  tenor
Orchestra and Chorus of the Mariinsky Theatre   
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and CBSO Chorus  

Prokofiev: Cantata for the 20th Anniversary of the October Revolution 47′
Berlioz: Grande Messe des Mortes (Requiem) 78′

A giant name – and a giant concert. Valery Gergiev is an artist whose sheer force of personality electrifies everything he conducts. So we’re thrilled that he’s bringing his legendary Mariinsky Theatre forces to join the CBSO and the CBSO Chorus in Europe’s greatest concert hall for two truly spectacular masterpieces – Prokofiev’s rousing commemoration of the 1917 revolution and Berlioz’s vast, roof-raising Requiem. With its huge chorus, four brass bands and massive orchestra, every performance of the Requiem is a special occasion – even when it isn’t being directed by one of the world’s greatest living conductors!

Absolutely awesome!

Review by Christopher Morley, Birmingham Post:

http://www.birminghampost.net/life-leisure-birmingham-guide/birmingham-culture/music-in-birmingham/2009/10/16/orchestras-brought-together-for-revolutionary-performance-65233-24941858/

“Choral projection in both works was exemplary, the collaboration between two great orchestras was totally without ego, and the CD-set of the Berlioz immediately on sale afterwards will preserve for all time this fabulous enterprise.”

Review by Richard Morrison, Times:

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/music/live_reviews/article6876486.ece

“I am still reeling. Squashed on the stage were 200 players and even more singers. Offstage bands blasted out from the upper tier. And the ensemble also included air-raid sirens, a team of accordions, gunfire and a man with a megaphone shouting speeches by Stalin.”

Review by Andrew Clements, Guardian:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009/oct/16/mariinsky-cbso-gergiev-review

“The music is effectively bombastic but thin, yet it’s the sort of challenge Gergiev enjoys, and he marshalled its excesses so magnificently, that one almost believed it could be a piece worth cherishing.”

Review from John Quinn, MusicWeb International:

http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2009/Jul-Dec09/cbso1510.htm

“This was a great occasion. It was a long evening but one that was very worthwhile and which showed that there’s nothing to beat the thrill of live music making. The Prokofiev performance was an interesting experience; the Berlioz was an unforgettable one.”

Review from Steve Beauchampé (Cantata) and Gary Whitehouse (Requiem), The Stirrer:

http://www.thestirrer.co.uk/cbso-marinsky-theatre-1910091.html

“It’s fervent, patriotic stuff, even if composed with seditious intent. As the final movement (The Constitution) reaches its rousing, intense climax, Gergiev stretches out his arms in celebration, soaking up the choral crescendo, and the rousing C Major chord with which Prokofiev tells us unequivocally: ‘It is over. It is done.’”

“I was hooked. Do not be mistaken. This is a work of spiritual depth and power that far transcends our mere mortality to present us with a profound vision of the Day of Judgement. It is dark, mysterious and vast.

…”Flawless and flowing, almost supernatural in its quality, its beauty was almost unbearable.”

Much ink has already been spilled about Opening Night at the New York Philharmonic last week, so true to form I’m coming late to the party. Reactions seemed oddly mixed here in town. The critics were delighted, but the huddled masses of audience were all apparently disgusted. Some people complained that the program (Magnus Lindberg’s festive new overture “EXPO”, Messaien’s Poemes pour Mi and Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique) was insufficiently adventurous and thus guaranteed to keep new and young listeners out of the concert hall, others argued that the program was far TOO modern and obscure, thus guaranteed to keep new and young listeners out of the concert hall.
(Someday, I want all the doomsayers who proclaim that the current generation of concert-goers is exclusively grey-haired and soon to go extinct to take a look into any of our fair city’s three conservatories on a day when Dmitri Hvorostovsky is in town.)

Everyone talked about the new Lindberg piece, and everybody talked about the Messaien, but for me the real story, programming-wise, was the Berlioz. These days I find poor Berlioz and others of his ilk (Liszt chief among them, but that’s another blog) very unjustly-maligned composers. It’s fashionable to sneer outright at his Romantic excess, or at politest to smile indulgently at silly little Hector before patting him on the head and telling him to run along back to his rightful place of a few minutes’ lecture in an undergrad survey course–today, class, it’s the beginning of the Romantic Era, complete with a bad opium trip and a witches’ sabbath! (*professor chortles.*)
As for the Symphonie Fantastique itself, as I was listening to the opening strains of the first movement, I realized that I have never heard the entire symphony performed by a major orchestra on a regular season concert. For the most part it seems to have been relegated to youth-symphony territory, usually stripped down to its final two movements. Maybe once in a while it will make an appearance in professional territory, but it’s usually filler, an afterthought, and impossible to notice amid the seas of constant Mahler cycles and Schoenberg retrospectives and other such Very Serious Programs.

At my old conservatory, another of those mysterious dens of young concert-goers, Mahler was almost a religion amongst a certain large subset of the population. You couldn’t walk into the lounge without running into someone poring over a score of one of his symphonies, holding forth on the philosophy and symbolism of his song cycles, and generally declaring that his music was the only music worthy of the name. I heard Beethoven derided as overly conservative. I heard Brahms called boring. Poor Shostakovich never made it through one of those discussions alive, being each time utterly eviscerated as simplistic, unimaginative, politically cowardly, and sometimes, without even a trace of irony, “formalistic.” Dvorak, Puccini, Smetana, and anyone else who ever dared to write a charming melody fared even worse, eliciting only derisive snorts of laughter at the mention of their names. And need I explain what these fashionable musicologists thought of Berlioz?
Meanwhile Mahler, as well as other Very Serious Composers (basically anyone who’s considered difficult or an acquired taste–Messaien, Richard Strauss, the entire Second Viennese School) was immune from criticism. Anyone who didn’t like the stuff could easily be dismissed as merely uneducated, some yokel from nowhere who had all the taste and sophistication of boiled turnips. This is hardly a unique phenomenon to my old school, of course, that’s the point I’m beginning to converge on. It happens everywhere, even in Noo Yawk.

Don’t take me wrong (old schoolmate J.S., put AWAY the flamethrower!), I like Mahler. I’m not a rabid fan, and sometimes he strikes me as just a little tedious and pretentiously bombastic, but there’s nothing like some good Mahler at the right time and mood for it (I suggest visiting the Neue Galerie before the concert.) My point, though, is that there are some works and some composers–and Mahler is emblematic of this phenomenon for me–that have this built-in aura of respectability, impressiveness and, basically, cool. All the sophisticated people listen to Schoenberg, stuff with a tune is stuff for the proles.

That is why I believe the Symphonie Fantastique to have been the most courageous of Maestro Gilbert’s choices of repertoire for the evening. Rather than hiding behind the instant-legitimacy bulk of Mahler 9 or some such massive monument, he pulled out a dusty old relic, a cheesy bit of Romantic excess from an era we’d really rather forget–and reminded us that wait a moment, this work is also a monument. The watershed of the long and proud tradition of programmatic music. The first appearance of l’idee fixe, a concept later adopted by a certain German composer and renamed the Leitmotiv. A symphony that caused scandals and raptures when it was new, that had Liszt jumping up and down in his seat with excitement and then sent him scurrying home to write half a dozen manifestos on the Music of the Future. Listen to this too, our brave new Maestro commands, remember this genius too.

Thursday 24 September 2009 at 7.30PM

Andris Nelsons  conductor
Charlotte Hellekant  mezzo-soprano

Ravel: La Valse 13′
Berlioz: Les Nuits d’Été 32′
Rachmaninov: Symphonic Dances 35′

It may be his last work, but Rachmaninov’s orchestral showpiece is bursting with energy and great melodies, a tribute to the glamour of Ormandy’s Philadelphia Orchestra. Ravel was also fascinated by recreating dance forms in his orchestral music, and his 1920 ballet La Valse is the most extreme example, the point at which the old Viennese waltz eats itself. Ravel’s love of orchestral colour owes a huge debt to Berlioz, whose beautiful song-cycle is sung by one of today’s leading mezzos.

Another wonderful concert from the CBSO. It was lovely to hear Andris’ thoughts on the music to come, and just nice that he chats with the audience, sort of makes you feel included, as though the audience presence is a part of the evening, the music, and not just incidental. I like Ravel’s La Valse, a waltz that is sort of collapsing in on itself, rich in emotion, with underlying familiar rhythms. The orchestra certainly brought out all the turbulent layers, so that I felt swept along and under it all in a way that never quite happens when listening to the CD!

I wasn’t familiar with Berlioz’s Les Nuits d’Été having just listened to it on Naxos a couple of times a few days before the concert. It is a collection of poems sung by a mezzo-soprano, with a fairly large but subdued orchestra. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as I did. Charlotte Hellekant (in a silk yellow gold dress that was like a shot of autumn sunshine on the stage) has a beautiful warm tone to her voice and acted out the words so it wasn’t a mere sing-along or technical performance but a communication and sharing. The orchestral accompaniment was sympathetic and brought out the shades, sadness and vulnerabilities in the poems. Quite lovely, and I’m not (yet) a big fan of opera singing!

I love Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances and the CBSO with Andris Nelsons really gave a beautiful rendition tonight, with much poignancy. However energetic and dramatic Andris may be, he also manages to coax out the multi-faceted emotions, aching beauty and vulnerability of a piece, so that you feel taken on such a wonderful musical journey. The CBSO is full of truly talented and amazing musicians and all credit to them for finding and inviting Maestro Nelsons to join them, and for being brave enough to go where he may take them in the wonderful world of music.

Gustavo Dudamel con sus 28 añitos es la última sensación en el mundo de la música clásica. Este director venezolano formado desde los cuatro años por su padre y desde los diez al amparo del sistema de orquestas infantiles y juveniles de Venezuela, fundado por José Antonio Abreu, saltó a la fama como director de la, digámoslo claramente, sensacional Orquesta Sinfónica de la Juventud Venezolana Simón Bolívar, con la que ha dado conciertos en todo el mundo. A partir del 2004 empezó a colaborar con otras orquestas como invitado: Philharmonia, Israel Philharmonic, LA Philharmonic, Teatro alla Scala, Chicago Symphony, Berliner y Wiener Philharmoniker….. En el 2006 es nombrado principal director de la Göteborgs Symfoniker (cargo que otros ilustres como Neeme Järvi o Charles Dutoit han ostentado) y en 2007 de la LA Philharmonic (sucediendo a Esa-Pekka-Salonen).

Esta temporada 2009-2010 se inicia la colaboración de Dudamel con LA Philharmonic, pero de las colaboraciones puntuales en los últimos años la DG ha editado de momento dos grabaciones: el Concierto para Orquesta de Bartok (2006-2007), y la Sinfonía Fantástica de Berlioz (2007-2008). Es esta última grabación la que os presento en el post.

La Sinfonía fantástica, op. 14, de Hector Berlioz,  realmente fue titulada por el autor como Episodio de la vida de una artista, se estrenó en París en 1830, cundo el compositor sólo tenía 27 años. Esta sinfonía rompió las fronteras del lenguaje musical de su tiempo en muchos sentidos. Se divide en cinco movimientos, en lugar de los cuatro habituales, cada uno con un título referido a la escena que lo inspira: Ensueños y pasiones, Un baile, Escena en el campo, Marcha al suplicio y Sueño de una noche de aquelarre. Además, cuenta con un programa detallado que describe un entorno literario donde se desarrollan los acontecimientos musicales, inaugurando el género que hoy se conoce como «música programática», y es la auténtica precursora de los poemas sinfónicos que medio siglo después compondrían Liszt, Korsakov, Strauss,…Posteriormente Berlioz revisaría la obra, siendo la versión de 1845 la que normalmente se interpreta y se graba.

Como pieza genuinamente romántica, la inspiración de esta obra fue la pasión que Berlioz sintió por una actriz irlandesa, Harriet Smithson y que culminó en una tumultuosa relación con matrimonio incluido en 1833 y separación en 1839. El amor del músico protagonista se expresa mediante una idea melódica fija que aparece bajo distintas formas, a la manera del leitmotiv wagneriano, recurso del que Berlioz fue un precursor.

La orquesta incluye campanas, címbalos, oficleídas, dos arpas, y exige, al menos, cincuenta y cinco instrumentos de cuerda.

—————————–

PROGRAMA DE LA OBRA (de la wikipedia)

La sinfonía posee un argumento muy detallado. Por esta razón se suele decir que es uno de los mejores ejemplos de la música programática; también es quizás uno de los primeros. El argumento es el siguiente:

First movement: “Rêveries – Passions” In Berlioz’s own program notes from 1845, he writes: The author imagines that a young vibrant musician, afflicted by the sickness of spirit which a famous writer has called the wave of passions [la vague des passions], sees for the first time a woman who unites all the charms of the ideal person his imagination was dreaming of, and falls desperately in love with her. By a strange anomaly, the beloved image never presents itself to the artist’s mind without being associated with a musical idea, in which he recognises a certain quality of passion, but endowed with the nobility and shyness which he credits to the object of his love.

Second movement: “Un bal” Again, quoting from Berlioz’s program notes:The artist finds himself in the most diverse situations in life, in the tumult of a festive party, in the peaceful contemplation of the beautiful sights of nature, yet everywhere, whether in town or in the countryside, the beloved image keeps haunting him and throws his spirit into confusion.

Third movement: “Scène aux champs” One evening in the countryside he hears two shepherds in the distance dialoguing with their ‘ranz des vaches’; this pastoral duet, the setting, the gentle rustling of the trees in the wind, some causes for hope that he has recently conceived, all conspire to restore to his heart an unaccustomed feeling of calm and to give to his thoughts a happier colouring. He broods on his loneliness, and hopes that soon he will no longer be on his own… But what if she betrayed him!… This mingled hope and fear, these ideas of happiness, disturbed by dark premonitions, form the subject of the adagio. At the end one of the shepherds resumes his ‘ranz des vaches’; the other one no longer answers. Distant sound of thunder… solitude… silence …

Fourth movement: “Marche au supplice” From Berlioz’s program notes: Convinced that his love is spurned, the artist poisons himself with opium. The dose of narcotic, while too weak to cause his death, plunges him into a heavy sleep accompanied by the strangest of visions. He dreams that he has killed his beloved, that he is condemned, led to the scaffold and is witnessing his own execution. The procession advances to the sound of a march that is sometimes sombre and wild, and sometimes brilliant and solemn, in which a dull sound of heavy footsteps follows without transition the loudest outbursts. At the end of the march, the first four bars of the idée fixe reappear like a final thought of love interrupted by the fatal blow.

Fifth movement: “Songe d’une nuit de sabbat” He sees himself at a witches’ sabbath, in the midst of a hideous gathering of shades, sorcerers and monsters of every kind who have come together for his funeral. Strange sounds, groans, outbursts of laughter; distant shouts which seem to be answered by more shouts. The beloved melody appears once more, but has now lost its noble and shy character; it is now no more than a vulgar dance tune, trivial and grotesque: it is she who is coming to the sabbath… Roar of delight at her arrival… She joins the diabolical orgy… The funeral knell tolls, burlesque parody of the Dies irae, the dance of the witches. The dance of the witches combined with the Dies irae.

 —————————–

La versión de Dudamel es realmente notable, llena de vitalidad. El primer movimiento más que una ensoñación es una especie de paranoia sonora por como se recrea en las extrañas sonoridades que se entremezclan, y en el segundo movimiento consigue un vals la mar de cantabile. El tercero es del todo inquietante, mientras que en los dos últimos consigue un crescendo en intensidad y fuerza, que culminan en una precipitada danza final, con la orquesta al máximo de revoluciones. Destaca el trabajo excelente con los contrabajos y los metales más graves, que el director se esfuerza en exagerar, como queriendo resaltar el carácter entre macabro y alucinado de la partitura, consiguiendo unas sonoridades tan inquietantes como estimulantes, aunque quizás tiende a exagerar las tintas en los momentos más espectaculares donde pone a la orquesta al límite. La LA Philharmonic rinde a buen nivel, con un sonido bien articulado y buen empaste entre las secciones incluso en los momentos donde Dudamel les arrastra a la vorágine de su visión hiperapasionada de la música. La toma de sonido es un poco opaca dentro de un gran nivel, aunque se acerca más a la calidad típica de toma radiofónica que a la excelencia que suelen alcanzar los registros de la DG.

Hector Berlioz (1803 – 1869)-Symphonie fantastique, Op.14 

1. Rêveries. Passions (Largo – Allegro agitato ed appassionato assai) [14:57]
2. Un bal (Valse: Allegro non troppo) [6:40]
3. Scène aux champs (Adagio) [17:59]
4. Marche au supplice (Allegretto non troppo) [6:39]
5. Songe d’une nuit du Sabbat (Larghetto – Allegro – Ronde du Sabbat: Poco meno mosso) [9:43]
6.Upbeat Live – pre-concert lecture [4:53]
Los Angeles Philharmonic-Gustavo Dudamel

(CD, PASSWORD: elhenry.MusicIsTheKey)

The following article presents both an overview and a detailed discussion of the relationship between Tchaikovsky’s Manfred Symphony and Byron’s dramatic poem, Manfred. This has been done both to share great works of art, and in the hope that it will better our appreciation of the music through a fuller understanding of the literature behind it.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Lord Byron

In the two articles that opened this blog, we had a look at a pair of Dvořák’s Op. 107-110; his symphonic poems based on the poetry of fellow Czech, Karel Jaromír Erben. While I would very much like to complete the set and explore The Golden Spinning-Wheel (Op. 109) and The Wild Dove (Op. 110), I am unable to do so until I secure some further resources in order to tackle them properly. However, if you are interested in them, rest assured that I will write about them in the not-too-distant future!

But, for now, we are turning to Tchaikovsky and Lord Byron. My reason for choosing these works is similar to my reason for discussing Dvořák’s symphonic poems; I opted to talk about the symphonic poems because they provide examples of some of my most cherished music. Now, my subject is derived from my favourite poetry – Manfred by Lord Byron (1817). Just as I first arrived at Dvořák before I discovered Erben, so I read the closet-drama by Byron before listening to Tchaikovsky’s symphony of the same name (Op. 58). Once again, this piece will serve my attempt to prove that an experience of the literature is as essential as an experience of the music, for Tchaikovsky’s only programme symphony (particularly its finale) has drawn much criticism for its ‘fatal flaws’. However, in my own experience, which is one I hope will be shared by others, a thorough knowledge of the dramatic poem not only diminishes and removes these flaws, but it utterly transforms our perspective, so that we realise that the finale may in fact be the greatest movement of them all. It becomes imposing in exactly the horrific way it should, and it can be recognised as one of Tchaikovsky’s true masterpieces.

Contents

• A complete annotated performance of Tchaikovsky’s Manfred Symphony is available on the blog’s companion YouTube Channel.
• For a full transcription of Lord Byron’s dramatic poem Manfred, click here (extracts are provided below).

Overview

• A Summary of the Symphony
• The Programme Notes
• A Summary of Byron’s ‘Manfred’

Detailed Discussion (the order of the movements is deliberately rearranged in order to follow the chronology of Byron’s Manfred)

• First Movement / Act I: Scene I
• Third Movement / Act I: Scene II – Act II: Scene I
• Second Movement / Act II: Scene II
• Fourth Movement / Act II: Scene IV

Overview

A Summary of the Symphony

Before we begin to look at either work of art in depth, it’s worth noticing some important differences between the type of connection between the music and literature when comparing such examples as Dvořák and Tchaikovsky. To begin with the most obvious aesthetic point, Dvořák’s works are single-movement symphonic poems, while Tchaikovsky presents us with his only programmatic work with more than one movement – evidently in the form of a symphony. This is undoubtedly due to the role that Mily Balakirev played in encouraging Tchaikovsky to compose the piece. In a letter dated 28th October 1882, Balakirev wrote:

Before setting out the programme, I suggest you look through Berlioz’s two symphonies (Symphonie Fantastique and Harold). Your future symphony should have its own idée fixe representing Manfred himself, which would permeate each movement.

Tchaikovsky was initially unimpressed with the idea, saying:

Your programme could in all probability serve as a design for a symphonist inclined to imitate Berlioz; I agree that this scheme might form an effective basis for a symphony in the style of that composer. But at the moment it leaves me completely cold, and when the heart and imagination are not warmed, it is hardly worth setting about the composition.
…
It is quite possible that the abject coolness with which I view your programme is the fault of Schumann. I love his Manfred for its combination of the extraordinary and commonplace in a single, integrated manifestation of Byron’s Manfred with Schumann’s Manfred, that I should find myself incapable of putting Schumann’s approach out of my mind, in order to write fresh music on the subject.

Schumann’s single-movement Manfred Overture (Op. 115, which actually includes rarely-used incidental music for the drama) was evidently something that Tchaikovsky dared not emulate for it was already a masterpiece. Nevertheless, Balakirev’s desire for a Russian equivalent of Berlioz’s symphonies was not something that Tchaikovsky was particularly interested in either. Still, three years later, in 1885, Tchaikovsky set about composing the piece and, when it was complete, he sent a letter to its dedicatee, Balakirev, stating:

I set about Manfred rather reluctantly and, if I may be frank, felt that I was obliged to write it because I promised you, and I made a firm promise … but very soon I became terribly infatuated with Manfred, and cannot remember ever having felt such pleasure in working, which stayed with me until the end.

Thus, we have a four-movement symphony based on Byron’s drama, the music of which Tchaikovsky himself at first loved and later loathed (with the exception of the first movement). However, this aesthetic point is not the only important difference to consider. When we look at Dvořák’s detailed letters on the progression of the motifs in his compositions, there is specific thematic material that is representative of the characters or plot at least every minute throughout the piece, if not more. In the case of The Noon Witch, the opening theme is that of a child; soon, an oboe imitates a cockerel; the basses signify the mother’s anger; the viola’s her scolding of the child; the brass the terrifying demand of the Witch etc. However, while Tchaikovsky’s symphony (and his other programme music) does not fail in its attempt to conjure the literary scene in our minds (so long as we are aware of the scene in the first place), it does not so rigidly follow the chronology of the poem’s structure. Instead, each movement has a few sentences attached to it, which serve to set the scene. From here, we are left to explore the music at our own peril, and it is for this reason that a knowledge of Byron’s Manfred is all the more essential; in the case of Dvořák, his music can be made more devastating to our ears by understanding each of the many motifs, but, with Tchaikovsky, we must take our knowledge of Manfred and find our own way through the symphony after just a little nudge in the right direction. Below are the programme notes for each movement as suggested by Balakirev, as well as those provided by Tchaikovsky (in bold):

Programme Notes

1st Movement: Manfred wanders in the Alpine mountains. His life is shattered, but he is obsessed with life’s unanswerable questions. In life nothing remains for him except memories. Images of his ideal Astarte permeate his thoughts, and he vainly calls to her. Only the echo from the cliffs repeats her name. Memories and thoughts burn and gnaw at him. He seeks and begs for oblivion, which no-one can give him.
Manfred wanders in the Alps, tormented by fateful pangs of doubt, rent by remorse and despair, his soul the victim of nameless suffering.

2nd Movement: The Alpine Fairy appears to Manfred as a rainbow from the spray of a waterfall.
The Alpine Fairy appears before Manfred in a rainbow.

3rd Movement: The life of Alpine hunters, full of simplicity, good nature and a patriarchal character. Manfred clashes with this, providing a sharp contrast. Of course, you should first have a hunter’s tune, but you should be particularly careful not to let it descend into triviality. God preserve you from vulgarities like German fanfares and Jägermusik.
The simple, free and peaceful life of the mountain folk.

4th Movement: In the subterranean halls of the infernal Arimanes (Hell), where Manfred arrives, longing to be reunited with Astarte – a contrast to this infernal orgy will be the summons and appearance of Astarte. Although the idea was fleeting, like a memory, and was immediately engulfed by Manfred’s suffering, yet here this same idea should appear in a complete and fully-realised form. The music should be simple, transparent, fresh and innocent. Eventually, a return to the Pandaemonium, then sunset and the death of Manfred.
Arimanes’ underground palace. Manfred appears in the middle of a bacchanal. Evocation of Astarte’s ghost. She predicts an end to his earthly sufferings. Death of Manfred.

And it is with that information alone that we venture into the unknown territory of Tchaikovsky’s Manfred Symphony. It is of immense importance, therefore, that we come to a fuller understanding of Byron’s Manfred. After this, the symphony becomes an entirely more subjective experience than Dvořák’s programme music (and you may or may not happen to prefer one type of experience over the other), for the interpretation of the music is left down to our own imagination. Thus, while I will of course emphasise that there is no substitute for reading the fantastic work of art that is Manfred, I will attempt to provide a guide to the drama by setting it beside the music (which may be useful to a listener even after reading the poem). My suggestions are perhaps best understood using the complete annotated performance of the Manfred Symphony, so that it can be listened to in conjunction with quotations from the poem. I will stress that such connections are drawn by my imagination alone, and your own experience of the symphony after understanding the drama should be a personal one, which may or may not differ from mine. To take the third movement just as an example, it may very well be the case that Tchaikovsky composed the music simply as a musical interaction between the themes of Manfred and the mountain folk, without a rigid or well-defined chronology of events; however, so that we can endeavour to allow the music to conjure the greatest possible amount of the drama in our minds, I have ignored this possibility (or probability) and instead looked to Byron’s poetry and placed the most essential events of the plot alongside the music, though Tchaikovsky himself may neither have composed like this, nor intended to.

A Summary of Byron’s Manfred

To begin, let’s take a look at the brief description of Manfred written by Byron himself (although he said this of his first draft, it is still applicable):

It is in three acts, [and is] very wild, metaphysical and inexplicable. Almost all the persons – but two or three – are Spirits of the earth and air, or the waters. The scene is in the Alps; the hero a kind of magician who is tormented by a species of remorse, the cause of which is left half-unexplained. He wanders about invoking these Spirits, which appear to him and are of no use. He at last goes to the very abode of the Evil principle in propria persona to evocate a ghost that appears and gives him an ambiguous and disagreeable answer.

Manfred is an incredibly complex character; he is a cursed immortal Magian of immense power and knowledge, born under the influence of a star that has become “a wandering mass of shapeless flame, / a pathless comet, and a curse, / the menace of the universe; / still rolling on with innate force, / without a sphere, without a course, / a bright deformity on high, / the monster of the upper sky!” Yet, after a long life filled with both unimaginable good and evil, he suffers loneliness and guilt after the death of his beloved Astarte – a tragedy that came about because their love was in some way forbidden (she may have been his sister – an idea usually taken for granted as certain, owing to the semi-autobiographical nature of the drama and Byron’s own relationship with his sister, Augusta Leigh). Thus, he has spent many torturous years searching for forgetfulness, whether in the form of losing knowledge, madness or ’self-oblivion’ (his many attempted suicides are thwarted by his curse). There is a particular speech in the poem that gives us a glimpse of the nature of Manfred’s existence (and which happens to be my favourite part of the poem for separate reasons) that I will provide here, as it will do a much better job of exploring Manfred’s character than I can hope to achieve with a prose summary:

From my youth upwards
My spirit walk’d not with the souls of men,
Nor look’d upon the earth with human eyes;
The thirst of their ambition was not mine,
The aim of their existence was not mine;
My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers,
Made me a stranger; though I wore the form,
I had no sympathy with breathing flesh,
Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me
Was there but one who – but of her anon.
I said, with men, and with the thoughts of men,
I held but slight communion; but instead,
My joy was in the Wilderness, to breathe
The difficult air of the iced mountain’s top,
Where the birds dare not build, nor insect’s wing
Flit o’er the herbless granite; or to plunge
Into the torrent, and to roll along
On the swift whirl of the new breaking wave
Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow.
In these my early strength exulted; or
To follow through the night the moving moon,
The stars and their developement; or catch
The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim;
Or to look, list’ning, on the scattered leaves,
While Autumn winds were at their evening song.
These were my pastimes, and to be alone;
For if the beings, of whom I was one, -
Hating to be so,  - cross’d me in my path,
I felt myself degraded back to them,
And was all clay again. And then I dived,
In my lone wanderings, to the caves of death,
Searching its cause in its effect; and drew
From wither’d bones, and skulls, and heap’d up dust,
Conclusions most forbidden. Then I pass’d
The nights of years in sciences untaught,
Save in the old-time; and with time and toil,
And terrible ordeal, and such penance
As in itself hath power upon the air,
And spirits that do compass air and earth,
Space, and the peopled infinite, I made
Mine eyes familiar with Eternity,
Such as, before me, did the Magi, and
He who from out their fountain dwellings raised
Eros and Anteros, at Gadara,
As I do thee; – and with my knowledge grew
The thirst of knowledge, and the power and joy
Of this most bright intelligence, until – [II.ii. 50-96]

Detailed Discussion

As we now consider some suggested extracts of the poem alongside Tchaikovsky’s music, there is one last important thing to note and bear in mind: the order of Tchaikovsky’s movements contradicts the chronology of Byron’s drama. Ideally, the second and third movements should be reversed (as Manfred comes across the Chamois Hunter in the mountains before he ventures to summon the Witch of the Alps, not after). Furthermore, the programme for the symphony excludes the full third act of Byron’s poem, which follows Manfred’s last day before his death, when he repeatedly rejects the Christian salvation offered to him by the Abbot of St. Maurice, and then defies and triumphs against the Demon who comes to collect him. Thus, in order to understand the literary aspect of the composition more fully, I will now look at each movement of the symphony in detail, but by using Byron’s chronology (thus reversing the order of the second and third movements). If you don’t have the complete annotated performance open, it might be useful to refer to the programme notes mentioned above.

First Movement / Act I: Scene I

At the beginning of the drama, Byron sets the scene thus: Manfred alone – Scene, a Gothic gallery – Time, Midnight. While the events that occur in Act I Scene I seem applicable to Tchaikovsky’s music, the programme notes differ in that they place Manfred wandering the Alps. We are, in fact, not introduced to Manfred in his mountainous background until Act I Scene II, which is depicted by Tchaikovsky in his third movement (from the perspective of the poem, the movement that ought to follow this one). Nevertheless, setting this discrepancy aside, both pieces clearly open with Manfred’s deep contemplation about the nature of his cursed existence and his search for forgetfulness.

Good, or evil, life,
Powers, passions, all I see in other beings,
Have been to me as rain unto the sands,
Since that all-nameless hour. I have no dread,
And feel the curse to have no natural fear,
Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes,
Or lurking love of something on the earth. [I.i. 21-27]

After just under thirty lines of this opening soliloquy, Manfred sets about his task. In the first of three attempts to achieve self-oblivion, he calls upon the seven Spirits of the earth (each of which represents Air, Mountain, Ocean, Earth, Wind, Night and Manfred’s Star, i.e. the star under which he was born according to Zoroastrian beliefs). This portion of the scene is introduced by Tchaikovsky with the first climax in the piece; after a few minutes, we reach a fortissimo chord, after which the orchestra becomes immediately subdued once more. This signals Manfred’s change of thought from self-consideration to determination. As the music continues to develop towards yet another climax, we can turn to Byron’s poem to find that Manfred must call on the Spirits three times before they obey. Presumably, Manfred has spent much time studying ancient magic in order to force the Spirits to reveal themselves, and he first utilises a “written charm / which gives me power upon you.” He fails. Undeterred, he then uses “this sign, / which makes you tremble.” He fails again. Finally, he unveils a “tyrant-spell, / which had its birth-place in a star condemn’d, / the burning wreck of a demolish’d world, / a wandering hell in the eternal space.” By this, they are compelled to appear.

Mysterious Agency!
Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe!
Whom I have sought in darkness and in light – Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell
In subtler essence
…
By the strong curse which is upon my soul,
The thought which is within me and around me,
I do compel ye to my will. – Appear! [I.i. 28-32/47-49]

Another tutti climax, this time accompanied by crashes in the percussion and followed by a gradual return to calmness, signals that the Spirits have appeared. Or, rather, as Byron directs: a star is seen at the darker end of the gallery; it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing – as the Spirits have no physical form and cannot thus ‘appear’. Owing to their separate dominions over the world, Byron introduces the seven Spirits each with their own stanza – all of the stanzas being different in style and composition. The seventh of these Spirits is the most powerful, and states that: “the star which rules thy destiny, / was ruled, ere earth began, by me: / it was a world as fresh and fair / as e’er revolved round sun in air; / its course was free and regular, / space bosom’d not a lovelier star. / The hour arrived – and it became / a wandering mass of shapeless flame, / a pathless comet, and a curse, / the menace of the universe.” No doubt owing to the diversity of character and limited space of a single movement, Tchaikovsky does not individualise each spirit. Instead, the music conveys the discussion between Manfred and the Spirits, reluctant to serve a mortal but nonetheless aware of the man’s power. However, of all the worldly glories that the Spirits could bestow, forgetfulness through death is the one thing beyond their ability, for Manfred claims to be as them – though in ‘clay’ – and their kind cannot die.

MAN. The mind, the spirit, the Promethean spark,
The lightning of my being, is as bright,
Pervading, and far-darting as your own,
And shall not yield to yours, though coop’d in clay!
…
SPIRIT. If, as thou say’st, thine essence be as ours,
We have replied in telling thee, the thing
Mortals call death hath nought to do with us.
MAN. I then have call’d ye from your realms in vain;
Ye cannot, or ye will not, aid me. [I.i. 154-157/161-165]

With this, though the Spirits entreat Manfred to consider whether or not there is something else they could do for him, he has lost all hope in their abilities. But, before either Manfred or the Spirits leave, Manfred has a desire to behold them ‘face to face’. They reply that they “have no forms beyond the elements / of which we are the mind and principle: / but choose a form – in that we will appear.” Manfred has the seventh and most powerful Spirit appear in whatever form he chooses, and then it seems to him that Astarte once more stands before him. In the music, this is made obvious by the entrance of Astarte’s unmistakable theme.

SEVENTH SPIRIT [Appearing in the shape of a beautiful female figure] Behold!
MAN. Oh God! if it be thus, and thou
Art not a madness and a mockery,
I yet might be most happy. – I will clasp thee,
And we again will be – [I.i. 188-191]

Though this is all that we read of Astarte’s form in the poem, Tchaikovsky lends significant development to the musical theme. After it has reached a tense climax, there is a brief, silent pause, and then an outcry in the strings, followed by a return to Manfred’s theme. The poem continues thus:

And we again will be – [The figure vanishes]
My heart is crush’d! [Manfred falls senseless] [I.i. 191]

With the seventh Spirit’s torment complete, and the disappearance of Astarte’s form, the scene begins to draw to a close, but not without an even greater climax. The music begins to swell once more, and, as Byron directs, a voice is heard in the incantation which follows. Manfred is condemned once more, and the music reaches its pinnacle; the lengthy incantation (and the first movement) ends:

And on thy head I pour the vial
Which doth devote thee to this trial;
Nor to slumber, nor to die,
Shall be in thy destiny;
Though thy death shall still seem near
To thy wish, but as a fear;
Lo! the spell now works around thee,
And the clankless chain hath bound thee;
O’er thy heart and brain together
Hath the word been pass’d – now wither! [I.i. 252-261]

Third Movement / Act I: Scene II – Act II: Scene I

The third movement of the piece actually represents Act I Scene II: The Mountain of the Jungfrau – Time, Morning – Manfred alone upon the Cliffs. It is also much more simple in its development compared to the outer movements, which actually makes pairing it with the poetry a more difficult task because it is such instances that make it clear that Tchaikovsky didn’t follow Byron’s chronology rigidly.

At the beginning of the scene, Manfred enters another soliloquy, but this is ignored by Tchaikovsky’s music, which evidently does not start with Manfred’s theme. The soliloquy demonstrates Manfred’s feeling of abandonment by the spirits, as stands on the edge of a cliff, willing himself to plunge into its abyss and bring peace upon him forever through suicide. However, owing to his curse, though he wishes to jump from the crag, there is a force within him that compels him to stay. He further laments his isolation from the glory of the natural world due to his peculiar existence, which names him a sovereign over the world – half dust, half deity.

Tchaikovsky’s music instead begins with Byron’s direction: Enter from below a Chamois Hunter. This is clear from the music’s simple and jovial tone, which is representative of the peaceful mountain folk, permeated by the sound of the hunter’s horn.

Even so
This way the chamois leapt: her nimble feet
Have baffled me; my gains to-day will scarce
Repay my break-neck travail. – What is here?
Who seems not of my trade, and yet hath reach’d
A height which none even of our mountaineers,
Save our best hunters, may attain. [I.ii. 56-62]

Just as Balakirev intended, Manfred’s theme is introduced suddenly to provide stark contrast with that of the hunter in its tragedy and woe. At this point in the movement, Manfred remains unaware that he has been perceived by the hunter, and thus continues to will himself to be killed somehow, though he knows that his fate will not allow it.

Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down
In mountainous o’erwhelming, come and crush me -
I hear ye momently above, beneath,
Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass,
And only fall on things which still would live;
On the young flourishing forest, or the hut
And hamlet of the harmless villager. [I.ii. 75-81]

The music, in its interaction between the two dominating themes, returns to that of the pleasant mountain folk. It is at this point that the hunter decides to approach Manfred for fear of the danger he may be in.

The mists begin to rise from up the valley;
I’ll warn him to descend, or he may chance
To lose at once his way and life together
…
I must approach him cautiously; if near,
A sudden step will startle him, and he
Seems tottering already [I.ii. 82-84/90-92]

The music continues to develop on the theme of the hunter, and, as he approaches the mysterious figure on the cliff, he calls out to him, though Manfred is still unaware of his presence.

Friend! Have a care,
Your next step may be fatal! – for the love
Of him who made you, stand not on that brink! [I.ii. 100-102]

Still developing on the same theme, the music swells to an extremely tense climax, at which point Manfred is in act to spring from the cliff, but the hunter seizes and retains him with a sudden grasp.

MAN. Farewell, ye opening heavens!
Look not upon me thus reproachfully -
Ye were not meant for me – Earth! take these atoms!
C. HUN. Hold, madman! – though aweary of thy life,
Stain not our pure vales with thy guilty blood. -
Away with me – I will not quite my hold. [I.ii. 107-112]

Still unaware of what is happening, Manfred’s theme returns suddenly, as the world spins around him.

MAN. I am most sick at heart – nay, grasp me not -
I am all feebleness – the mountains whirl
Spinning around me – I grow blind – What art thou?
C. HUN. I’ll answer that anon. – Away with me. [I.ii. 113-116]

As the music calms down after its central climax, the hunter attempts to lead Manfred down from the mountain to his chalet.

The clouds grow thicker – there – now lean on me -
Place your foot here – here, take this staff, and cling
A moment to that shrub, – now give me your hand,
And hold fast by my girdle – softly – well -
The Chalet will be gained within an hour -
Come on, we’ll quickly find a surer footing,
And something like a pathway, which the torrent
Hath wash’d since winter. [I.ii. 117-124]

As the theme of the mountain folk returns once more, but in a more complex and tense manner, we are introduced to the setting of Act II Scene I: a Cottage amongst the Bernese Alps. Tchaikovsky does not develop the music to represent the conversation, but it is here in the poem that the hunter retains Manfred as “[his] mind and body are alike unfit / to trust each other”. Thus, he has a chance to ask Manfred many questions on his purpose and his apparently noble lineage etc. Manfred, utterly absorbed in disturbing thoughts about Astarte, returns answers of no relevance to the man’s questions, and is entirely baffling. We also glimpse Manfred’s superhuman nature once more, as he rejects the hunter’s supposedly comforting notion of patience and redemption.

C. HUN. Man of strange words, and some half-maddening sin,
Which makes thee people vacancy, whate’er
Thy dread and sufferance be, there’s comfort yet -
The aid of holy men, and heavenly patience.
MAN. Patience and patience! Hence – that word was made
For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey;
Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine, - I am not of thine order. [II.i. 31-38]

The movement comes to a subdued close as Manfred gives his thanks (and gold) for the hunter’s kind hospitality. He leaves, and stresses that he is neither to be guided nor followed.

I depart -
‘Tis time – farewell! – Here’s gold, and thanks for thee -
No words – it is thy due. – Follow me not -
I know my path – the mountain peril’s past: -
And once again, I charge thee, follow not! [II.i. 91-95]

Second Movement / Act II: Scene II

The second movement portrays Act II Scene II: a lower Valley in the Alps – a Cataract. The structure of the movement is essentially simple, as its in a kind of extended ternary form, but we can still analyse it on a closer level to adapt it more fully to Byron’s poem. At first, Manfred is alone, gazing at a waterfall beneath the morning sun. This movement is notable in the context of Tchaikovsky’s typical music, as he at first strays from his usual melody-centric compositional style. Instead, his depiction of the morning light bouncing in many colours off the foaming water is heavily dependent on his orchestration; there is no ‘melody’ as such.

It is not noon – the sunbow’s rays still arch
The torrent with the many hues of heaven,
And roll the sheeted silver’s waving column
O’er the crag’s headlong perpendicular,
And fling its lines of foaming light along,
And to and fro. [II.ii. 1-6]

As the music begins to leave its orchestration-dependent section to take a turn towards a melody (which is made more striking by the fact that it is sandwiched by two sections of essentially melody-less material), Manfred takes some of the water into the palm of his hand, and flings it in the air, muttering the appropriate adjuration. After a pause, the Witch of the Alps (or Alpine Fairy) rises beneath the arch of the sunbow of the torrent. At first, Manfred simply compliments her glorious beauty, saying that he merely called her forth to gaze on her.

Beautiful Spirit! With thy hair of light,
And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form
The charms of Earth’s least-mortal daughters grow
To an unearthly stature, in an essence
Of purer elements. [II.ii. 13-17]

As the movement develops, the Witch’s theme suddenly gives way to Manfred’s, which, in its immediate context, seems less dreadful (although Manfred is no doubt enjoying the presence of the Witch of the Alps, the text doesn’t necessarily support the idea that Manfred’s devastated mood has been alleviated – but this is not a necessary interpretation of the music). Here, the Witch urges Manfred to talk at great length of his curse, as well as his search for self-oblivion – curiously unaided by the supernatural Spirits. After pushing him to speak about it multiple times – and after Manfred replies by evading her questions – this is the first time that we hear Manfred speak of his relationship with Astarte, and it is clear that he is racked with immense guilt for sharing a forbidden love with – and thus destroying – the only other person in human form (in all time and space) for whom he could feel even the remotest love.

MAN. I loved her, and destroy’d her!
WITCH. With thy hand?
MAN. Not with my hand, but heart – which broke her heart -
It gazed on mine, and withered. I have shed
Blood, but not hers – and yet her blood was shed -
I saw – and could not staunch it. [II.ii. 117-121]

The Witch’s theme soon returns, but now the music has gone through a modulation and it sounds markedly unsettled. The Witch says that she may be able to aid Manfred in his quest, but for the price of obedience.

WITCH. It may be
That I can aid thee.
MAN. To do this thy power
Must wake the dead, or lay me low with them.
Do so – in any shape – in any hour -
With any torture – so it be the last.
WITCH. That is not in my province; but if thou
Wilt swear obedience to my will, and do
My bidding, it may help thee to thy wishes. [II.ii. 150-157]

In response to this, the music suffers another traumatic climax and a return to Manfred’s theme, as he refuses to swear obedience to anyone or anything.

I will not swear – Obey! And whom? The Spirits
Whose presence I command, and be the slave
Of those who served me – Never!
…
Retire! [II.ii. 159-161/165]

Thus, the Witch disappears, as does her thematic material. The music returns to its orchestration-dependent depiction that opened the scene; now it closes the scene with Manfred once more alone with nature. He further contemplates his situation, and his thoughts soon turn to his third and final, and most dreaded resource that may gain him some form of peace.

We are the fools of time and terror: Days
Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live,
Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
…
I have one resource
Still in my science – I can call the dead,
And ask them what it is we dread to be:
The sternest answer can but be the Grave,
And that is nothing
…
now I tremble,
And feel a strange cold thaw upon my heart,
But I can act even what I most abhor,
And champion human fears. – The night approaches. [II.ii. 164-166/177-181/202-205]

Fourth Movement / Act II: Scene IV

The final movement skips over the short 3rd Scene of Act II (The Summit of the Jungfrau Mountain - it briefly introduces the three Destinies and Nemesis) and begins with Act II Scene IV: The Hall of Arimanes – Arimanes on his Throne, a Globe of Fire, surrounded by the Spirits (but not those of the first movement/Act I). In his infernal, hellish dominion, Arimanes holds a great festival. He, the fountain of all evil, is amongst his Spirits, the Destinies and Nemesis, who in turn praise the violent power of their leader.

Hail to our Master! – Prince of Earth and Air! -
Who walks the clouds and waters – in his hand
The sceptre of the elements, which tear
Themselves to chaos at his high command!
He breatheth – and a tempest shakes the sea;
He speaketh – and the clouds reply in thunder;
He gazeth – from his glance the sunbeams flee;
He moveth – earthquakes rend the world asunder.
Beneath his footsteps the volcanoes rise;
His shadow is the Pestilence; his path
The comets herald through the crackling skies;
And planets turn to ashes at his wrath.
To him War offers daily sacrifice;
To him Death pays his tribute; Life is his,
With all its infinite agonies -
And his the spirit of whatever is! [II.iv. 1-16]

The music that opens this movement begins in the expected manner; it starts off as terrifying, but in such a way as to evoke a devilish festival. For roughly the first third of the movement, this section of the movement undergoes an interesting development, as, after its first guise has reached its climax – a few minutes in – it quickly transforms into something utterly different; something peculiarly subdued. The music in this movement, more than any of the others, most successfully bears an atmosphere of Gothic fantasy. We are plunged into a section of piano, ethereal, evasive darkness, and yet we are fully aware that we should be in a Hall of Evil, engulfed by the flames of the underworld. This dramatic difference between our imagined location and the nature of the location suggested by the music, forces us to question how the two can be reconciled. In attempting to answer this (though I am sure the images conjured by every individuals’ imagination will differ), the music seems to become utterly horrifying. Exactly what is happening at this vile bacchanal for the music to sound like this? We cannot know, and it is this lack of knowledge – this fear – that causes the heart to race while the music slows, making this movement the most darkly dramatic of them all – and therefore the most unjustly criticised!

After this musical development, Manfred enters as abruptly as usual. However, there is significant time given to Manfred’s theme in the music, while Byron writes only: Enter Manfred. After Tchaikovsky’s restatement of Manfred’s theme has ended, the finale’s fugue begins – based on the thematic material at the beginning of the movement – and we are presented with the Spirits’ violent reaction to the unexpected presence of a mortal amongst them.

A SPIRIT. What is here?
A mortal! – Thou most rash and fatal wretch,
Bow down and worship!
SECOND SPIRIT. I do know the man -
A Magian of great power, and fearful skill!
THIRD SPIRIT. Bow down and worship, slave! – What, know’st thou not
Thine and our Sovereign? – Tremble, and obey!
ALL THE SPIRITS. Prostrate thyself, and thy condemned clay,
Child of the Earth! or dread the worst. [II.iv. 28-35]

It is this fugue that has been the most heavily criticised, as one critic deemed that it is bound to fall short of depicting infernal anger as a fugue is necessarily ‘academic’ in nature. However, this seems to be a naive view of what function a fugue can play if we consider it in context. The nature of Tchaikovsky’s fugue allows the hostility to swell in a measured and tense fashion, leading into a climax that is therefore rendered all the more horrifying.

After the Spirits’ musical and literary outburst, Manfred interjects with his typically defiant attitude. His theme returns and he refuses to kneel, as such a thing is of no significance to him in the wake of his vast and dreadful existence.

MAN. I know it;
And yet ye see I kneel not.
FOURTH SPIRIT. ‘Twill be taught thee.
MAN. ‘Tis taught already; – many a night on the earth,
On the bare ground, have I bow’d down my face,
And strew’d my head with ashes; I have known
The fulness of humiliation, for
I sunk before my vain despair, and knelt
To my own desolation. [II.iv. 36-42]

The music continues to develop along the same idea, as Manfred continues to defy them, as well as insult Arimanes, so they soon wish to crush him. The First Destiny, who notes that Manfred’s “sufferings / have been of an immortal nature, like / our own”, and who is the only one with power over him, stops them from doing so.

FIFTH SPIRIT. Dost thou dare
Refuse to Arimanes on his throne
What the whole earth accords, beholding not
The terror of his Glory – Crouch! I say.
MAN. Bid him bow down to that which is above him,
The overruling Infinite – the Maker
Who made him not for worship – let him kneel,
And we will kneel together.
THE SPIRITS. Crush the worm!
Tear him in pieces!
FIRST DES. Hence! Avaunt! – he’s mine.
Prince of the Powers invisible! This man
Is of no common order, as his port
And presence here denote;
…
He is mine,
And thine, it may be – be it so, or not,
No other Spirit in this region hath
A soul like his – or power upon his soul. [II.iv. 42-53/69-72]

After the music has calmed and Spirits have thus demanded what Manfred is doing in the Hall of Arimanes, he replies that they cannot help him; they must call up the dead. With the approval of Arimanes, Nemesis speaks a spell intended to uncharnel the dead Astarte.

Shadow! or Spirit!
Whatever thou art,
Which still doth inherit
The whole or a part
Of the form of thy birth,
Of the mould of thy clay,
Which returned to the earth,
Re-appear to the day!
Bear what thou borest,
The heart and the form,
And the aspect thou worest
Redeem from the worm.
Appear! – Appear! – Appear!
Who sent thee there requires thee here! [II.iv. 84-97]

Astarte’s theme recurs as her Phantom rises and stands in their midst. Manfred gazes at her form after death, wondering if she suffers. At first he is unwilling to speak to her, and asks Nemesis to bid her speak. Nemesis’ attempts fail, as do Arimanes’ when he is called upon to command her voice; “she is not of our order, but belongs / to the other powers. Mortal! thy quest is vain, / and we are baffled also”. Thus, Manfred’s theme returns again as he enters a long speech, which asks the Phantom of Astarte many questions about whether or not she loves or loathes him; if he will suffer for them both, while she is blessed; and if he will eventually be able to die.

Can this be death? There’s bloom upon her cheek;
But now I see it is no living hue,
But a strange hectic – like the unnatural red
Which Autumn plants upon the perish’d leaf.
It is the same! Oh, God! that I should dread
To look upon the same – Astarte! – No,
I cannot speak to her – but bid her speak -
Forgive me or condemn me
…
Say that thou loath’st me not – that I do bear
This punishment for both – that thou wilt be
One of the blessed – and that I shall die. [II.iv. 98-105/125-127]

Some sudden fortissimo chords in the brass, followed by the recurrence of Manfred’s theme in its more dramatic form, heralds Astarte finally speaking in reply. She at first only calls out Manfred’s name, but, as the music reaches one of its climaxes, she proclaims that he will die the next day. Providing no answers to any of Manfred’s other desperate questions, she soon disappears once more.

PHANTOM. Manfred!
MAN. Say on, say on -
I live but in the sound – it is thy voice!
PHAN. Manfred! Tomorrow ends thine earthly ills.
Farewell!
MAN. Yet one word more – am I forgiven?
PHAN. Farewell!
MAN. Say, shall we meet again?
PHAN. Farewell!
MAN. One word for mercy! Say, thou lovest me.
PHAN. Manfred! [II.iv. 150-156]

As the Phantom of Astarte disappears and there is a short pause, an organ breaks through to lead to yet another climax. Here, while Manfred takes a short time to recover from his encounter, Nemesis confirms that her foresight of Manfred’s death will be fulfilled.

NEM. She’s gone, and will not be recall’d;
Her words will be fulfill’d. Return to the earth.
A SPIRIT. He is convulsed – This is to be a mortal
And seek the things beyond mortality.
ANOTHER SPIRIT. Yet, see, he mastereth himself, and makes
His torture tributary to his will.
Had he been one of us, he would have made
An awful spirit. [II.iv. 156-163]

Although in Byron’s poem a further full act is given to deal with the end of Manfred’s life and rejection of Christian salvation (along with a backdrop of his curious castle, its contents and the tales of its servants), he here, at last, dies as the music comes to a close. Nevertheless, while the music is peaceful for the sheer fact that he no longer must suffer earth-bound torment, his fate is no more certain.

MAN. ‘Tis over – my dull eyes can fix thee not;
But all things swim around me, and the earth
Heaves as it were beneath me. Fare the well -
Give me thy hand.
ABBOT [from Act III]. Cold – cold – even to the heart -
But yet one prayer – alas! how fares it with thee?
MAN. Old man! ’tis not so difficult to die.
[Manfred expires]
ABBOT. He’s gone – his soul hath ta’en its earthless flight -
Whither? I dread to think – but he is gone. [III.iv. 146-153]

__________
Sources:
- Tchaikovsky-Research.net

Recommended recording:
- André Previn with the London Symphony Orchestra (EMI, 1997 Digital Remaster)

Hector Berlioz

Hector Berlioz, hatte in seiner Jugend kein Klavier zur Verfügung und lernte die Gitarre als Instrument für die Liedbegleitung schätzen. Aus seiner Jugend ist ein Band mit 35 Liedern mit Gitarrenbegleitung “Recueil de Romances” offensichtlich für einen Schwarm seiner Jugend erhalten. Von Berlioz wird auch berichtet, dass er z.B. in Italien Arien von Gluck sang und auf der Gitarre begleitete und das so gut, dass die Zuhörer zu Tränen gerührt wurden – das war in der Zeit der Romantik durchaus üblich. Originalnoten von Berlioz sind schwer zu finden z..B. leichte   Solostücke. Am bekanntesten ist wohl eine Transkription von Tarrega der “Tanz der Sylphiden”.  Interessant wären auch seine Lieder mit Gitarrenbegleitung. Berlioz hat übrigens nie bedauert, dass er seine musikalische Ausbildung nicht am Klavier erhielt – dadurch sei er ohne die Beschränkung durch die Fingersätze des Klaviers aufgewachsen.

Beispiel für ein Stück von Hector Berlioz aus der Mediatheque de la Cité de la Musique (Paris) gespielt auf einer Gitarre von Renée Lacote (um 1850) mit zwei freien Bordunsaiten. Berlioz (und auch Paganini) spielten auf einer Gitarre von Grobert, Paris. Einen Nachbau fertigt Matthias Wagner, Badenweiler,für 3500 € an. Matthias Wagner liefert auch Spezialsaiten für Lauten und historische Gitarren.

Gitarre Renée Lacote (um 1850)

『イタリアのハロルド』 (Harold en Italie) Op.16は、ルイ・エクトル・ベルリオーズによって書かれた、4部からなるヴィオラ独奏付き交響曲である。
構想はジョージ・ゴードン・バイロンの長編詩「チャイルド・ハロルドの巡礼」の場面に着想を得ている。第1楽章で独奏ヴィオラが提示する「ハロルドの主題」は、「幻想交響曲」における「恋人の動機（固定観念）」のように、全曲に形を変えて登場する。物語の舞台には、ベルリオーズがイタリアにいたときに訪れたアブルッチ地方が選ばれている。
（wikipediaより）

 

“Elizabeth Farrelly, an architectural critic who writes for the Sydney Morning Herald, questions the wisdom of the project.

‘I think what you don’t do when you have a national symbol is go back and fix it up. You don’t go back and fix up the Eiffel Tower and don’t think we need to fix up the Opera House.

“One thing the Opera House doesn’t do, and will probably never do, is accommodate full-scale opera.

“That’s a wonderful irony about the building, but something that you can love. Probably a better option is to build a new opera house somewhere else,” (s)he says.”

This quote is straight from the BBC news site. When I heard about it this morning, I couldn’t believe my ears – an Opera House that can’t stage full scale Opera? Even in Glasgow we managed the Ring in the Kings Theatre in the 1970’s, The Trojans (Berlioz – in case you had forgotten).

But, as usual, it got me thinking….

How can a huge public building like Sydney Opera House survive for so long and not be 100% fit for purpose?

Can businesses survive for that long and not be fit for purpose? To answer that question you first of all need to know what your purpose is in business. Yes, to make money is the common answer but that is a consequence of exploiting your skills, ideas, relationships, marketplace. So when did you last look at whether your organisation still does what it is supposed to do? When last did you ask your customers do they get precisely what they want from your business? When did you last take some time out to consider the future of your business? Sydney Opera House has at least started that process – though whether the health lobby or the Arts lobby will win the £300m needed to do the job is anyone’s guess.

It won’t take £300m to sort your business or mine; just a little time to talk to our customers and be ready to hear what you maybe didn’t want to hear but a business that wants to improve is surely a business that its customers want to be part of.

You’ve just got to do it.

That’s all….

JohnF

Um mês atrás vivi cenas que agora me parecem, e em tão curto intervalo de tempo, familiares. Despedida. Lembro dos abraços, da agoniazinha no peito pela consciência de não correr mais o gostoso risco de encontrar os amigos em qualquer esquina, em qualquer atalho. Pelo próprio ritmo acelerado que a vida nos impõe, no dia seguinte aos “até breve” e “volto logo” foi uma série de “oi, você”, “muito prazer”, “meu nome é Carolina, e o seu?”.  Encontros ao acaso na secretaria Berlioz, na parada Les Taillés, conversas regadas à Smirnof Ice no Jardin de Ville, caminhadas de madrugada de volta pra casa, overdose de pão de queijo, invasão à la piscine da residência/resort Huille Blanche, churrasquinhos semi-interrompidos no campo de futebol, Bukana, Bukana, Bukana, cantarolar junto Teu Beijo, Vanessa da Matta e até Vítor e Léo.

Bem relativo pensar em quanto tempo demora um mês pra passar. Em um mês conheci gente. Em um mês vivemos juntos. Em um mês gostei, desgostei, descobri, abracei, dancei, quase estudei, fiquei. Fiquei, mas alguns passaram. E agora na minha história em Grenoble eu enxergo uma lacuna gigante de dois metros de altura. Berlioz sem o humor cru e bruto de Brunão não é Berlioz. Quem, agora, pra me dar queimas¹? Cadê o grandão pra eu ligar tooda animada de manhã, cheia de alegria pra compartilhar, dar aquele bom dia e receber um seco “oi”? Não vou nem mentir que ele tenta ser bruto, mas é só ternura! rs

Sem falar no desaforo que é neguinho ir pra Rouenne (c’est comme ça?) e ainda levar o violão! Esse noveleiro também vai fazer falta e eu não sei com quem vou comentar o final de Caminho das Índias agora! Já estou morrendo de saudades da companhia bonita e dos papos com meu ursinho Pimpão, tão gentil, tão sympha e, por que não dizer, tão prendado! Meu parceirinho de xote que foi o único inteligente que lembrou de trazer polvilho pra pão de queijo… agora só indo à Lyon pra sentir de novo o gostinho de Minas.

Au revoir pra o marrento do Supla, pra o noveleiro do Lepra, para o ursinho Marcelo e para o Shrek e só o que nos resta agora na Berlioz é o dengoso! Latin lover se foi e partiu não só o coração do ‘Yurí’, que vai ficar muito mais dengoso agora, como também das japas que só suspiram por ele porque não sabem o quanto é espaçoso e como ele não sabe escolher vinho… (rs)

Mas vão-se os noivos e ficam as panelas, não é Rafael?! (kkk) Bem feito!!! Desfazer malas de novo, limpar a chambre, descobrir a localização dos Casinos da vida, fazer carteirinha disso, carteirinha daquilo, beijar o Didier, tudo isso com o Brunão super alegre do lado! Eu avisei que Grenoble ia conseguir ser melhor em setembro do que foi em agosto, a residência já está com um movimento enorme, gente pra lá, gente pra cá, os restaurantes abrindo, tanta coisinha boa pra fazer aqui que não tem em Lyon… Mas pra fazer-lhes um dengo, voilà: tudo vai ter um porcento a menos de gosto porque vocês não estão aqui. De toda sorte, a mim restaram as panelas…

Boa sorte, meninos! Grande beijo!!!

¹ dar queima: dar shelp, dar corte, dizer as coisas sutis que Monsieur Brunão diz sem piedade.

Aeolian Harp

The aeolian harp (or lyre) or wind harp was invented by the German Jesuit Athanasius Kircher and described by him in 1650. It is a long, narrow wooden box with a thin belly and with eight to twelve strings stretched over two bridges and tuned in unison; it is to be placed in a window (or a grotto) where the wind will draw out a harmonious sound. (Aeolus is the Greek king in charge of the winds; he first appears in Homer’s Odyssey 10.) In the next century James Oswald, a Scots composer and cellist, made one, and it soon became well known. It just as soon became an irresistible poetic symbol, first in English, then in French and German. James Thomson described the harp in The Castle of Indolence: ‘‘A certain Musick, never known before, / Here sooth’d the pensive melancholy Mind; / Full easily obtain’d. Behoves no more, / But sidelong, to the gently-waving Wind, / To lay the well-tun’d Instrument reclin’d; / From which, with airy flying Fingers light, / Beyond each mortal Touch the most refin’d, / The God of Winds drew Sounds of deep Delight: / Whence, with just Cause, The Harp of Aeolus it hight’’ (1.352–60).

Thomson also wrote an ‘‘Ode on Aeolus’s Harp.’’ It was already so well known by the 1750s that the opening line of Gray’s ‘‘Progress of Poetry’’ — ‘‘Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake’’ — was misconstrued; Gray added a note quoting Pindar’s ‘‘Aeolian song’’ and ‘‘Aeolian strings’’ to make clear that he was referring to a mode of Greek music, not the wind harp. (To the ancients, however, ‘‘Aeolian lyre’’ might refer to Sappho and Alcaeus, whose lyrics were in the Aeolian dialect of Greek.) In poetry any harp can become an aeolian harp if suspended in the open air. Alluding to Psalm 137, where the exiled Jews ‘‘hanged our harps upon the willows’’ by the rivers of Babylon, William Cowper ends his long poem ‘‘Expostulation’’ by calling on his muse to ‘‘hang this harp upon yon aged beech, / Still murm’ring with the solemn truths I teach’’ (718–19). Among the English Romantics the wind harp became a favorite image,capable of many extensions. In ‘‘The Eolian Harp,’’ perhaps the most extended poetic treatment of the subject, Coleridge is prompted by the harp’s ‘‘soft floating witchery of sound’’ (20) to consider ‘‘the one Life within us and abroad, / Which meets all motion and becomes its soul’’ (26–27), and then speculates: ‘‘And what if all of animated nature / Be but organic Harps diversely fram’d, / That tremble into thought, as o’er them sweeps / Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, / At once the Soul of each, and God of all?’’ (44–48). Coleridge may have been influenced by the associationist psychology of David Hartley, according to whom sensation depends on ‘‘vibrations’’carried by the nerves to the brain, where new but fainter vibrations are created. Diderot, in D’Alembert’s Dream, has a similar but more explicitly musical model of sensation and memory, as does Herder, in Kalligone.Both Wordsworth and Coleridge used the metaphor of the internal breeze or breath responding to the inspiration of a natural wind. So Wordsworth begins the 1805 Prelude, ‘‘Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze,’’ where the breeze serves as a kind of epic muse; a little later he reflects, ‘‘For I,methought, while the sweet breath of Heaven / Was blowing on my body, felt within / A corresponding mild creative breeze, / A vital breeze . . . ’’ (41–44) and then likens himself to an aeolian harp (103–07). In ‘‘Dejection,’’ Coleridge compares himself to an ‘‘AEolian lute, / Which better far were mute’’ (7–8). Shelley has frequent recourse to the image (e.g., Queen Mab 1.52–53, Alastor 42–45, 667–68) and extends it in interesting ways. It is quietly implicit in Queen Mab 8.19–20: ‘‘The dulcet music swelled / Concordant with the life-strings of the soul.’’ He develops an idea in Coleridge’s ‘‘Dejection,’’ where the raving wind is told that a crag or tree or grove would make fitter instruments than the lute, by imagining that the winds come to the pines to hear the harmony of their swinging (‘‘Mont Blanc’’ 20–24); in his ‘‘Ode to the West Wind’’ he implores the wind to ‘‘Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is’’ (57). In his ‘‘Defence of Poetry,’’ Shelley explicitly likens man to an aeolian lyre, but adds‘‘there is a principle within the human being . . . which acts otherwise than in the lyre, and produces not melody, alone, but harmony, by an internal adjustment of the sounds or motions thus excited to the impressions which excite them.’’ The aeolian harp enters French poetry with André Chénier’s Elégies (no. 22): ‘‘I am the absolute owner of my memory; / I lend it a voice, powerful magician, / Like an aeolian harp in the evening breezes, / And each of my senses resounds to this voice.’’ It appears as similes in the influential romantic novels Les Natchez by Chateaubriand and Corinne by Germaine de Sta¨el. In Germany, H¨olderlin in ‘‘Die Wanderung’’ (‘‘The Migration’’) makes the link Shelley makes: ‘‘and the forests / All rustled, every lyre / In unison / At heaven’s gentle touch’’ (trans. Sieburth). Goethe stages a brief ‘‘Conversation’’ between two Aeolian harps, male and female, and Schiller alludes to the harp in ‘‘The Dignity of Women.’’ The song of Ariel that opens Goethe’s Faust, Part II is accompanied by aeolian harps. Half a century later M¨orike writes ‘‘To an Aeolian Harp,’’ where the wind blows from the green tomb of ‘‘the youth I loved so much’’: ‘‘As the wind gusts more briskly, / A lovely cry of the harp / Repeats, to my sweet dismay, / The sudden emotion of my soul.’’ The Russian poet Tyutchev hears a harp at midnight grieving like a fallen angel; for a moment we feel faith and joy, ‘‘as if the sky flowed through our veins,’’ but it cannot last, and we sink back into ‘‘wearisome dreams’’ (‘‘The Gleam’’, trans. Bidney). In America, Emerson praises the one sure musician whose wisdom will not fail, the Aeolian harp, which ‘‘trembles to the cosmic breath’’ and which alone of all poets can utter ‘‘These syllables that Nature spoke’’ (‘‘The Harp’’). Thoreau wrote ‘‘Rumors from an Aeolian Harp,’’ a song from a harp, not about one, and in Walden he employs the metaphor several times. As a theme or allusion, the harp seems to have lingered longer in America than elsewhere, appearing as late as 1888 in a poem by Melville, ‘‘The Aeolian Harp at the Surf Inn.’ Kircher noted that several sounds may be produced by one string,suggesting that the string is to the wind as a prism to light, breaking up a unified motion or essence into its component parts. William Jones developed the theory that ‘‘the Eolian harp may be considered as an air-prism.’’ That idea may account for the connection between the aeolian harp and the ‘‘Harp of Memnon,’’ which was thought to be concealed within a colossal statue of an Egyptian pharoah and would sound when the first ray of sunlight struck it each morning. ‘‘For as old Memnon’s image,’’ Akenside writes, ‘‘long renown’d / By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch / Of Titan’s ray, with each repulsive string / Consenting, sounded through the warbling air / Unbidden strains; even so did Nature’s hand / To certain species of external things, / Attune the finer organs of the mind’’ (Pleasures of Imagination 109–15). Amelia Opie mentions Memnon’s harp in her ‘‘Stanzas Written under Aeolus’ Harp.’’ Byron lightly alludes to Memnon, ‘‘the Ethiop king / Whose statue turns a harper once a day’’ (Deformed Transformed 1.531–32).At least two composers have written music ‘‘for’’ an aeolian harp: the Romantics Berlioz, in his Lélio (opus 14b), and Chopin, in his Etude opus 25,no. 1.

Work Cited:Ferber- A Dictionary of Literary Symbols

Régine Crespin (1927-2007)

Nước Pháp đã sinh ra một trường phái thanh nhạc cổ điển ấn tượng và hết sức độc đáo trước những cường quốc khác như Ý, Đức, Tây Ban Nha, Nga, ….Phần lớn những ca sĩ Pháp, do ảnh hưởng ngôn ngữ nên đều có âm sắc mỏng, hơi ngả mũi (ngay cả với những giọng baritone hay mezzo), điều này dường như là một hạn chế với chuẩn mực âm thanh hát cổ điển, vì như chính Mozart lần đầu tiên đến Pháp đã phải thốt lên rằng, ca sĩ Pháp không hiểu biết gì về nghệ thuật hát. Kì thực ngôn ngữ Pháp rất thanh lịch, tinh tế và gợi cảm, và với sự đóng góp của những nhà soạn nhạc, nghệ sỹ và những nhà sư phạm tài danh qua hàng trăm năm, nền thanh nhạc cổ điển Pháp đã có một chố đứng riêng k0 thể k0 ghi nhận.

Mọi người vẫn nhắc đến ngôn ngữ Pháp là ngôn ngữ của tình yêu, của những lời có cánh. Tôi vẫn nhớ, một lần chị Na đã viết rằng chị ấy đã yêu tiếng Pháp từ trước khi hiểu nó. Bạn k0 thể cảm nhận đầy đủ hết vẻ đẹp của ngôn ngữ Pháp chỉ qua những tác phẩm opéra, opérette Pháp của Gounod, Massenet, Bizet, Offenbach,… thậm chí sẽ là có một cái nhìn khá lệch lạc vì đôi khi những aria,duet trong opera Pháp hơi quá trữ tình hoặc vui nhộn, kì quặc, lập dị thái quá. Sẽ là một sự tiếp cận hợp lý, và đơn giản hơn với Mélodies Pháp – (những ca khúc nghệ thuật Pháp). Khi tôi nhờ ku Phúc biên tập qua phần giới thiệu về Mélodie trong tập thơ dịch sắp in của chị Na, nó cứ nhắc đi nhắc lại tính chất “Chính xác” và “Gợi cảm” của âm nhạc Pháp. “Gợi cảm” thì ok rồi, nhưng còn “Chính xác” , tôi chưa bao h hình dung về tính chính xác của âm nhạc Pháp, thậm chí là đôi khi cảm nhận nó hơi quá tự do…? “Chính xác” trong hòa thanh? Như lời soprano Maggie Teyte nói : “đôi khi tôi còn thấy Debussy còn chính xác hơn cả Mozart nữa” ??? Tôi vẫn chưa hiểu lắm, nhưng nếu tất cả những bí mật đều được giải mã thì liệu còn hấp dẫn nữa không?

“Có lẽ những mélodie đầu tiên là những mélodie của nhà soạn nhạc Hector Berlioz. Ông chắc chắn là người đầu tiên sử dụng thuật ngữ này cho các sáng tác của mình và tập liên khúc Les Nuits d’Été (1841, Những đêm hè) vẫn được xem là một hình mẫu của thể loại.” (By Kiki @ www.nhaccodien.info)

Download : Hector Berlioz – Les Nuits d’Été , op.7 – Régine Crespin(soprano) Ernest Ansermet (conductor) & L’Orchestre de la Suisse Romande
Thực tế với một trong những tập liên khúc đầu tiên của thể loại này, một số người đã cho rằng Berlioz có ảnh hưởng ít nhiều từ âm nhạc Đức (với thể loại Lieder đã rất nổi tiếng thời kỳ này) trong việc thể hiện một sự hài hòa thực sự hay sự thay đổi giai điệu trong những đọan hát gợi nhớ đến Schubert trước đây. Tuy nhiên rõ ràng, Berlioz đã khai thác những đặc tính trữ tình riêng trong ngôn ngữ Pháp, và đặt những nền móng đầu tiên cho thể loại Mélodies cho những nhà soạn nhạc sau này như Fauré, Ravel, Debussy, Durparc, Chausson hay Poulenc.
Tập liên khúc ” Les Nuits d’Été” gồm 6 bài, được phổ từ những bài thơ của nhà thơ Pháp thế kỉ 19 Pierre-Jules-Théophile Gautier (1811-1872). No.2: “Le Spectre de la Rose”, nhân vật chủ thể-bông hồng mang đầy đủ tính cách như một nhân vật sân khấu, cố gắng trốn tránh lại điệu valse được lấy cảm hứng từ chính ý thơ của Théophile Gautier.
Đây là một trong những Mélodie YIH thích nhất, và bao nhiêu lần dụ chị Na dịch, nhưng chị ấy đều từ chối vì thơ không hay (hoặc quá … sến). Nhưng sến thế này đã là gì so với anh chàng nhà thơ Rodolfo trong La Boheme của Puccini, .
NA9: Sao em không tự dịch?
YIH : Em dốt tiếng Pháp…
Mà rất khó dịch vì quá nhiều hình ảnh trong 1 ý thơ:
” Tu me pris encore emperlée/ Des pleurs d’argent de l’arrosoir,”
“Em hái Tôi khi tôi còn đang lấm tấm những giọt/nước mắt bạc của bình tưới…”
Thôi thì với sự giúp đỡ của em Rika cũng cố, vì thích.
YIH k0 có nhiều kinh nghiệm dịch thơ Pháp, dù độ sến có thừa, thế nên có gì sai sót thì ku Phúc hay chị Na nhẹ nhàng góp ý, heheee

Le Spectre de la rose

Pierre-Jules-Théophile Gautier (1811-1872)

-
Soulêve ta paupière close

Qu’effleure un songe virginal!

Je suis le spectre d’une rose

Que tu portais hier au bal.

Tu me pris encore emperlée

Des pleurs d’argent de l’arrosoir,

Et, parmi la fête étoilée,

Tu me promenas tout le soir.

-

Ô toi qui de ma mort fus cause,

Sans que tu puisses le chasser,

[Toute la nuit]1 mon spectre rose

À ton chevet viendra danser;

Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame

Ni messe ni De Profundis.

Ce léger parfum est mon äme,

Et j’arrive du du paradis.

-

Mon destin fut digne d’envie,

[Pour avoir un trépas]2 si beau,

Plus d’un aurait donné sa vie;

[Car j'ai ta gorge pour]3 tombeau,

Et sur l’albâtre où je repose

Un poëte avec un baiser

Écrivit: “Cigît une rose,

Que tous les rois vont jalouser.”
———————-

Bóng ma của bông hoa hồng.

-

Xin vén lên hàng mi đang khép

Giấc mộng tinh khôi vừa mới chuốt qua.

Ta chỉ là hồn cốt một bông hoa

Trong đêm vũ hội em đã gài lên ngực.

.

Em ngắt tấm thân còn lấp lánh bạc

Đẫm những giọt lệ ngọc, bình tưới khóc tuôn ra.

Và dưới ngàn sao đêm vũ hội phù hoa,

Trọn đêm ta cùng em sánh bước.

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Vì sự sống này em đã tước,

Liệu em có nỡ hắt hủi ta ?

Một hồn ma hằng đêm ghé ngang qua

Mong được nhịp theo từng bước chân em khiêu vũ.

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Chỉ có điều, xin em đừng e sợ,

Cũng đừng hát khúc nguyện cầu hay nói lời tiễn biệt xót thương.

Tâm hồn ta – chỉ một chút thoảng hương

Từ chốn thiên đường xa xôi gửi xuống

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Số phận này còn chi mà ước muốn

Khi nhận một cái chết đẹp tựa mơ

Hơn là cuộc sống cô quạnh được ban cho

Vì trên ngực em – nấm mồ ta đó

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Ta nằm đây, trên chiếc bình sứ

Có gã thơ trao tặng một nụ hôn,

Rằng : « Nơi đây yên nghỉ một cành hồng

- Kẻ khiến tất thảy vị vua đều ghen tị .»

Yes_Iam_here (@ www.classicalvietnam.info ) dịch.

Dowload: Hector Berlioz – Les Nuits d’Été , op.7, no.2 : Le spectre de la rose – Régine Crespin(soprano)

Đây là bản thu được lấy từ đĩa nhạc huyền thoại năm 1963 của Régine Crespin, và là trong 1 số ít những recital/collections album yêu thích nhất, và được nghe nhiều nhất của YIH (cùng với “The art of Primadonna” của Joan Sutherland, “Chants d’Auvergner” của Victorya de los Angeles, “The Ultimate Ricordings” của Jussi Bjorling, “The Very best of Montserrat Caballé“, “The Singers – Hermann Prey” và 1 vài album khác). Nó được Decca nhiều lần tái bản với những hình bìa khác nhau. 1 Album 5/5 stars cho tất cả những ai muốn bắt đầu với Mélodie và muốn hiểu về Régine Crespin.

Trong suốt 50 năm sau WW2, và ngay cả trước đó, không có 1 ca sĩ Pháp nào có sự nghiệp thu âm và biểu diễn lừng lẫy như R.Crespin trên cả mặt trận ca khúc nghệ thuật cững như opera, operretta, dù gần đây Dessay, Piau, Gens hay Petibon đã được ghi nhận và đạt được những thành tựu nhất định. R. Crespin thực sự là một niềm tự hào lớn của nước Pháp. Nếu bạn được nghe những lời nhận xét thổi phồng về âm lượng khổng lồ của Crespin trong opera Wagner hay những lời chỉ trích về việc hay để vênh note trong những note thuộc âm khu cao, và những bản thu âm thiếu cảm xúc vào thời kì sau này, thế thì xin hãy nghe album này để có một cái nhìn toàn diện và đầy đủ về giọng hát thực sự của Crespin. Những đĩa nhạc đầu tiên YIH nghe, Crespin giọng rất khô và thiếu hấp dẫn, cho đến cái boxset“Regine Crespin: Album du 80eme Anniversaire“, rồi đến cái album này thì thực sự bị chinh phục. Cá nhân tôi cho rằng Crespin nữ tình hơn nhiều so với hình dung của mọi người. Giọng hát dày, ấm, có chút vang mũi đặc trưng, nhưng hoàn toàn k0 bị chảy, điệu như một số giọng Pháp điển hình (như dessay chẳng hạn). Crespin k0 phải type giọng hát hợp với các thiết bị ghi âm, nên bà k0 có nhiều ghi âm studio xuất sắc, rất đáng tiếc, nhưng k0 vì vậy mà mọi người có thể đánh giá thấp tài năng cũng như giọng hát của Régine Crespin.

Vì vừa mất 1 cái boxset của Crespin, nên đành up lên giới thiệu cho… đỡ tiếc

saiba mais

For fans of the BBC’s new MaestroCam service, you can now watch Daniel Barenboim in action with the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra:

• Liszt Les préludes
• Wagner Tristan and Isolde – Prelude and Liebestod
• Berlioz Symphonie fantastique

All four MaestroCam broadcasts will continue to be made available (to UK viewers only) until the end of the Proms season.

Today’s edition of The Sunday Times of London has published a feature on Muse. Muse’s new album, The Resistance, is slated for release on September 14th. Writer Dan Cairns talked with the band about their early years in Devon, England and about how classical music influenced the sound of the band. Muse’s Matt Bellamy told Cairns:

“A lot of Muse songs, in my mind, were probably far more elaborate and more orchestrated in the way that I heard them. I often imagine them played by a symphony orchestra, or sung by a large choir, or in an operatic setting. If you have that sort of active imagination, you’re going to be drawn towards classical music. It’s difficult not to sound aloof, but if anything, I’d say I’m dabbling in rock. People associate the band with science fiction, with theories about the universe, about geo­politics and all that sort of stuff, and I’ve certainly gone on a lot about those things, but I think one of the reasons I’ve moved towards them is because, when I’m hearing or thinking about a certain piece of music, it can conjure up such large, existential-type feelings, emotions and ideas.

“If I’d been listening to Berlioz or Beethoven in the 19th century, I would probably have said to you, ‘I’m hearing the sound of God.’ In the modern secular world, and given the fact that I’m not religious, I turn to other subjects, be it ideas about space, or political questions.”

To read the article in full from The Sunday Times of London, click here.

Muse will be playing two big hometown gigs at The Den in Teignmouth, the seaside town in Devon where they are from, on September 4th and 5th. After that, they travel to America for some stadium dates in support of U2. Those begin on September 24th at Giants Stadium in New Jersey.

The next single from The Resistance, “Uprising,” will be released on September 7th in the UK. To hear “Uprising” by Muse, click below:

For additional information on Muse, go to:
http://muse.mu/
http://www.myspace.com/muse

It is at this time of year that the BBC Radio 3 Messageboards begin to hot up – mainly with thoughts and opinions regarding the BBC Proms. Here are three current discussions that you may want to add your voice to (registration required):

1. Wind band music at the Proms: this old thread from 2007 has recently reappeared, and has some fantastic suggestions regarding future wind-related Proms events
2. Muted brass: a thread about the inclusion/exclusion of band music (mainly brass band) from our airwaves here in the UK
3. Symphonie Funebre et Triomphale: some thoughts regarding the recent performance at the Proms of Berlioz’s Symphonie

Why not sign up and add your 10 pence? Whilst you’re at the BBC website, you could also email Roger Wright, Radio 3 Controller and Director of the BBC Proms, with your thoughts on the matter…

… Aaaaaand the date to put to use that golden ticket  I told you about it’s August 28, when summer vacation is over and everyone gets back to work. That night will see the start of the 2009-2010 season with a great selections of composers and works:

Britten: Young person’s guide to the orchestra

Benjamin Britten

Berlioz: Symphonie Fantastique

Saariaho: Laterna Magica. This one is a premiére commissioned by the Stiftung Berliner Philharmoniker together with the Lucerne Festival.

Of course, this special night needs a foreword to remind everyone the meaning of these musical works to the Berliner Philharmoniker and their audience:

Many music lovers will remember the dramatic circumstances the last time Berlioz’s Sympnonie fantastique was performed by Sir Simon Rattle and the Berliner Philharmoniker. After welding work had set fire to the roof of the Philharmonic resulting it its  temporary closure, a hangar at Berlin’s Tempelhof airport was used as an alternative venue. Despite the adverse conditions it was a thrilling interpretation. The Berliner Zeitung wrote: “Even given the acoustic difficulties of the hangar, it became  clear how much the Symphonie fantastique suits Rattle, how he not only gets to the heart of its more bizarre aspects , but also manages to combine them.” It will be all the more exciting to experience this interpretation with the acoustics in the Philharmonie.

Kaija Saariaho

Now this will be a great way to start a new season, ¿don’t you think?

Louis Hector Berlioz (1803–1869), compositor francés y figura destacada en el desarrollo del romanticismo, es muy conocido por su Sinfonía Fantástica, estrenada en 1830, y basada en la obra de Thomas de Quincey, Confesiones de un inglés comedor de opio.

Berlioz nació en La Côte-Saint-André, entre Lyon y Grenoble. Su padre era médico y envió al joven Hector a París a estudiar medicina. Sin embargo, Berlioz quedó horrorizado por el proceso de disección y, a pesar de la desaprobación de su padre, abandonó la carrera para estudiar música, asistiendo al Conservatorio de París, donde estudió composición y ópera.

Rápidamente se sintió identificado con el movimiento romántico francés, contando entre sus amigos a los escritores Alejandro Dumas, Víctor Hugo y Honoré de Balzac. Tanta fue su identificación que Théophile Gautier escribiría: “Me parece que Héctor Berlioz, con Victor Hugo y Eugène Delacroix,  forman la Santísima Trinidad del arte romántico”.

Más allá de sus composiciones, su gran aportación a la música vino de la mano de su ensayo pedagógico “Gran tratado de instrumentación y orquestación moderna“. Mahler y Strauss estudiaron detenidamente esta obra que también sirvió como modelo para el libro de Nikolai Rimski-Korsakov, quien había asistido como estudiante de música a los conciertos que Berlioz dirigió en Moscú y San Petersburgo.

El crítico Norman Lebrecht escribió: “Antes de las visitas de Berlioz, prácticamente no había música académica rusa. El suyo fue el paradigma que inspiró ese género. Tchaikovsky, para su Tercera sinfonía, “tomó” de la Sinfonía fantástica como si de una tienda de golosinas se tratara”.

El compositor ruso Modest Musorgski moriría con una copia del tratado de Berlioz en su cama.

Now, if you didn’t get the chance to hear Hector Berlioz’s incredible masterpiece for winds and percussion, Symphonie funèbre et triomphale, performed by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales (plus extras!) under the direction of Thierry Fischer at the BBC Proms last night, you can listen again for the next six days via the BBC iPlayer.

The Symphonie has only been performed once before at the Proms, back in 1983, and the performance at the Royal Albert Hall last night featured 80 wind and brass players and 18 percussionists (including 8 snare drums)!

If you don’t know the story of this epic work, do read the programme notes, and the rest of the concert programme, which is carefully crafted around the Berlioz.

Finally, below is a clever little widget that will let you listen to the latest broadcasts from the Proms without even leaving this webpage…

“The language of music is common to all generations and nations; it is understood by everybody, since it is understood with heart.”

- Gioacchino Rossini, composer (1792-1868).

Though I rarely venture into the realm of Contemporary period music, Prokofiev’s piano concertos are among my favorite pieces. Especially this one. Piano Concerto No. 3. Especially when played by such a master! If you haven’t heard the piece, there are many great resources to look it up and listen!

Last Sunday was the second time I had the opportunity to listen to the Symphonie Fantastique, the first being at the Yundi Li concert in D.C. I didn’t care for it any more than I did then…but the CSO brass section lived up to it’s reputation as one of the best!