Después de muchas semanas sin escribir en el blog, por no tener apenas tiempo, hoy me dispongo a escribir éste artículo sobre pianistas, compositores e intérpretes.

No pretendo hacer un artículo tan genial como los de mi compañero Tetrasquel, solo dar mi opinión sobre ciertas composiciones que he escuchado últimamente, que no por primera vez.

En primer lugar, quiero rajar hablar sobre Richard Clayderman, pianista francés muy reconocido (y escuchado) generalmente entre gente que no tiene ni puta idea de música. Para definir la obra de Clayderman podemos utilizar el término “música de ascensor”, porque no existe un término mas exacto.

A éste pianista se le ocurrió la brillante idea (entre otras cosas) de hacer “versiones” de obras maravillosas de Chopin, Debussy etc., orquestándolas de una manera cutre y muy hortera. Para mas información, véase su album “En su piano sin control. Grandes éxitos”, y no, no es un chiste. El álbum se llama así.

Para demostrar ésto, os dejo su interpretación de la Sonata para piano número 14 (También llamada Quasi una fantasia, Op.27, Nº2, y mal llamada Claro de Luna), de LV Beethoven. Obra que todo el mundo conoce.

ADVERTENCIA: Es de muy mal gusto. SigoPensando no se hace responsable de los efectos derivados de la escucha prolongada de la siguiente interpretación. Si la quiere escuchar, es bajo su responsabilidad.

Ahora la gran pregunta: ¿Cómo es posible que éste hombre vendiese mas de 70 millones de discos?, yo aun no lo entiendo. ¿Por qué la necesidad de orquestar una obra de tal calibre?, ¿Está mejor orquestada?, en fin…

Por si no fuera poco, ha estropeado la obra mas conocida de la Suite Bergamasque de Debussy (ésto es imperdonable). Yo no me atrevo a buscarlo en YouTube, pero os dejo para los mas valientes un link a Spotify para que se os pongan los pelos de punta. Pulsar aquí.

Para compensar el mal trago que habrá pasado el lector tras la escucha de ésta abominable y horrísona interpretación, dejo La Interpretación de Wilhelm Kempff, que es de lo mejor que he escuchado:

La siguiente persona de la quería hablar es de Maksim, un pianista realmente interesante, porque al contrario que Clayderman, sabe interpretar a la perfección obras como la Hungarian Rhapsody nº2 de Liszt, pero también hace barbaridades como orquestar el Revolutionary Etude de Chopin de la peor forma posible.

Veamos un ejemplo de la fantástica -y difícil- interpretación de la obra de Franz Liszt:

Fantástica, ¿verdad?. Además de interpretar genial la obra, Maksim está muy cachondo. Pero mucho mucho.

Ahora veamos, de la mano del mismo artista, la interpretación de Revolutionary Etude, de Chopin. Vayan preparando los oidos:

Sin comentarios…

En breves haré otro artículo recomendando alguna obra de música clásica, pero tranquilos, no habrá sobresaltos.

Un abrazo a todos.

I left my home on Richmond Hill at midnight to begin what I thought would be my usual early morning hunt for breakfast.  However, as I strolled along the Thames tow-path towards Kew, I stumbled across a delightful young man.  He was stood under an arch of Richmond Bridge, with one shoulder leant against the wall.  His neck folded slightly to allow for his head to avoid the curve of the arch.  His hair fell across his forehead which slightly masked his gaze in my direction.

However, I could feel him looking at me.  Every step I took towards him was watched with intense concentration, almost like he knew of my disposition.  He studied my every move.  His only movement was the occasional hand gesture towards his lips, out of which a smooth channel of smoke was breathed.  As I approached him, he did not flinch, although I could hear the sound of his pounding heartbeat from quite a distance.

“Bon soir” he said, with the hint of a quiver in his subtle French voice.

I replied with a smile.  I noticed his gaze leave mine for the first time, as if he were distracted by my lips.

The damp chill of  a late November morning penetrates even a vampire’s skin, and when he saw me shiver slightly he offered me his coat.  “A gentleman?” I whispered quizzically in his ear.

As he placed his long black overcoat around my shoulders,  I could smell him.  A sweet and noble smell, the like of which I had not smelt for a many years.  There was something fresh and vulnerable about him, but I could also sense his deep knowing and longong for something more.

Sweet fresh human blood such as this is hard for one like me to resist.  However, I felt he had been waiting for me.  It was if he knew me.  I decided not to rush with him; to take my time and enjoy him.

In this day and age, it is unwise for a vampire to invite a human into one’s home.  But this one was different, I was as much under his spell as he was mine.

After a short walk, Christophe and I, that is his name, arrived at my mansion house on Richmond Hill.  That was just 5 hours ago.  We have been having a little Champagne and some fun since…  He is currently in the drawing room playing a Brahms sonata on my piano, whilst smoking yet another cigarette (I am not fond of these modern human habits).  I have enjoyed watching his lose dark hair move with his every strike of the keys and the reflection of the open fire lap against his bare olive skin.  I can tell he is getting rather sleepy, so I might take him to bed.  I am, of course, entirely wide awake.

TBC…

VQ x

The following is the contents of the 1964 Programme, held by Bayan Northcott and photographed when I visited him.

[p 1]

Wardour Castle

Concerts and Lectures

16–22 August 1964

President Michael Tippett

Musical Director Harrison Birtwistle

Price 5’-

[p 2]

[map of Tisbury]

[p 3]

Contents

Acknowledgements                        4

The Composers and Artists            5

Programmes

16 August            Lecture            13

Concert            13

17 August            Recital            19

Concert            19

18 August            Lecture            25

Concert            25

19 August            Recital            31

Discussion            31

20 August            Recital            37

Lecture            37

21 August            Concert            41

22 August            Concert            41

[p 4]

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank the Headmistress, Miss C. B. Galton, and the Governors of Cranborne Chase School for kindly allowing us to use the Castle, both for the Concerts and the Summer School; and the following people for their invaluable assistance:

Mrs. M. I. Mackintosh

Honorary Secretary

Mr. H. O. Young

Honorary Treasurer

Miss G. Selby-Smith

Honorary Librarian

Mrs. T. Hetherington

Miss Caroline Philips

Mrs. R. Porteous

Mr. Michael Thomas

for the loan of organ and harpsichord

The Revd. C. J. Godfrey

for the use of Donhead St. Andrew parish church

The Ministry of Works

for the permission to use the grounds of the Old Castle

Cover Design and Book            Anthony Denning

Programme Notes                        Anthony Gilbert

[p 5]

Notes on the Composers and Artists

[p 6/7]

Harrison Birtwistle

was born in 1934; he studied at the Royal Manchester College of Music and subsequently at the Royal Academy of Music. He is now teaching music at Cranborne Chase School. His works include: Refrains and Choruses, performed 1959 Cheltenham Festival; Music for Sleep, a work for children; Chorales for Orchestra; The World is Discovered, performed at this year’s I.S.C.M. Festival; Entr’acts and Sappho Fragments, performed at this year’s Cheltenham Festival; and Three Movement with Fanfares, commissioned by The Worship Company of Musicians for this year’s City of London Festival

Peter Maxwell Davies

was born in Manchester in 1934, and studied  1952-57 at Manchester University, and Manchester College of Music; 1957-58, Italian Government Scholarship; studied composition with Petrassi in Rome. Director of Music at the Grammar School, Cirencester, and for the past 18 months he has been at Princeton, New Jersey. His works include: Sonata for Trumpet and Piano, 1955; Five Piano Pieces, 1956; Alma Redemptoris Mater, 1957; St. Michael, for wind instruments first performed at the Cheltenham Festival, 1957; Prolation, for orchestra, 1958; Five Motets for a capella choir, 1959; O Magnum Mysterium, for choir, instruments and organ, 1960. His Sinfonia was presented at the Cheltenham Festival by the English Chamber Orchestra in 1962

Anthony Gilbert

was born in London in 1934. He started to study music in 1958; harmony and counterpoint with Anthony Milner; composition briefly with Mátyás Seiber; then since 1959 with Alexander Goehr. Works include: a Duo for Violin and Viola, a Serenade for Six Instruments (commissioned by the S.P.N.M.); and a recently completed Mass for choir and brass.

Alexander Goehr

was born in 1932 in Berlin. Son of the conductor Walter Goehr. Was brought to England as a baby and educated. Studied composition at Royal Manchester College of Music with Richard Hall, and in 1954 was awarded a French Government Scholarship and student at the Paris Conservatoire with Olivier Messiaen and Yvonne Loriod. For some years taught at Morley College and now works part time at the B.B.C., and its chairman of the Society for the Promotion of New Music. Principal works include: Sonata for Piano, The Deluge; Cantata after Leonardo da Vinci; Suters Gold; Cantata on a text by Eisenstein; Violin Concerto; and Little Symphony.

Michael Tippett

was born in 1905, and at the age of 18 entered the Royal College of Music where he studied composition with Charles Wood and R. O. Morris, and conducting with Sir Adrian Boult and Sir Malcolm Sargent. In the early ‘forties he was the Musical Director of Morley College and was closely associated with Walter Goehr, who have many first performances of his music from this period. Works from this period were: Concerto for Double String Orchestra; an Oratorio; A Child of Our Time; and the First Symphony. In 1953 Covent Garden gave the first performance of his first opera, A Midsummer Marriage. In 1953 his second opera, King Priam, was given its first performance in Coventry, late at Covent Garden. This Piano Sonata to be played tonight was written shortly after “King Priam” and was given its first performance by Margaret Kitchin.

Hugh Wood

was born near Wigan in Lancashire in 1932. He started to study music when he was 22; academic work with Dr. Lloyd Webber and later with Anthony Milner; composition with Iain Hamilton and then with Mátyás Seiber. His compositions include: a set of variations for viola and piano; instrumental songs to texts by Christopher Logue; a trio for flute, viola and piano; quartets, the second of which was commissioned by the B.B.C. for the 1962 Cheltenham Festival. Several of these pieces have been broadcast. He has taught at Morley College for five years and also, latterly, at the Royal Academy of Music. He is married to the pianist Susan McGaw.

[p. 8/9]

Richard Adeney

wad born in London in 1920. He studied music at Dartington Hall and the Royal College of Music. He is now the principal flute of the London Philharmonic Orchestra and English Chamber Orchestra. Hs is unmarried and keenly interested in photography.

Lucy Berthoud

was born in Hertfordshire in 1942. Three years later she went to live in New York and there, at the age of 11, started to learn the flute with Ruth Freeman of the Julliard School of Music. When she was 17 she came to England and studied at the Royal Academy of Music with Derek Honner; in 1963-64 she went to Paris to study with Fernand Caratgé

John Carewe

was born in 1934 and studied with Roger Desormiere, Walter Goehr and Olivier Messiaen. For several years assisted John Pritchard with the Musica Viva Concerts in Liverpool, and has appeared as conductor with principal orchestras in this country. Is particularly interested in performance of new music and has given many first performances of works by young English composers.

Lamar Crowson

was born in American but completed his musical training with Arthur Benjamin at the Royal College of Music, with he is now professor of the piano. Among the many awards he has won are the Chappell Gold Medal, the Harriet Cohen International Medal and two first prizes for chamber music at the Munich International Competition. His is will known for his solo and chamber music productions.

Barbara Elsie

was born in Yorkshire in 1938 and at the age of 16 won a three-year Scholarship to the Guildhall School of Music in London. Her teacher was Winifred Radford, with whom she still works. Her oratorio repertoire is extensive and she performs regularly with principal choral societies in Great Britain. Since her first important engagement at York Minister in 1959 she has broadcast a cantata for her, and consequently she was invited to take part in the first performance of his opera “English Eccentrics,” which had u

Osian Ellis

was born in Flintshire. He started to play the harp at the age of 10 and at 17 he won scholarships which took him to the Royal Academy of Music, where he is now a professor. He has brought the harp into great prominence with his concert appearances, recitals and broadcasts, and he has taken part in most of the major European festivals. His performance of Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro with the Melos Ensemble was awarded a Premier Prix in 1962 by the French Society of Authors and Editors of Music. Ossian Ellis is an authority on Welsh Folk Music.

Emanuel Hurwitz

was born and educated in England. At the age of 14 he won the Bronislaw-Hubermann Scholarship for the Royal Academy of Music which was adjudicated by Hubermann in person. In 1939 he became the youngest member of the London Philharmonic Orchestra; he has played solos and obligatos with his orchestras and has always been singled out by the critics for his excellent performances. Since the war he has been leader of the Jacques Orchestra and is now leader of the English Chamber Orchestra. In 1954 he formed a string ensemble which has gained considerable success playing music of the seventeenth-eighteenth centuries. He has been a member of the Melos Ensemble since 1955.

[p 10/11]

Margaret Kitchin

was born in Switzerland and studied with Jacqueline Blancard. She has played all over Europe, giving recitals and as a soloist with all the leading orchestras, playing classical and many modern works in which she specialises. She has given many first performance of modern works, including the Piano Sonata by Alexander Goehr, and work by Ian Hamilton, Peter Maxwell Davies, Peter Racine Fricker, etc.

Susan McGaw

studied at the Royal Academy of Music where she son the Liszt Scholarship and many other prizes. On leaving she won a Caird Scholarship and one from the French Government, and studied in Paris for two years with Yvonne Lefébure Since returning she has played regularly in London and the provinces. She is a frequent broadcaster. He husband is Hugh Wood. They have a son and daughter.

Gervase de Peyer

was a scholar at the Royal College of Music and completed his studying under Frederick Thurston in 1958. He has played for many of the London symphony and chamber orchestras and is at present principal clarinet in the London Symphony Orchestra. He is well known as a soloist and has performed with nearly all the major orchestras in the country under many well known conductors. He has also appeared at many festivals, including Edinburgh and Holland. He has made records for Decca, H.M.V., l’Oiseau Lyre and Parlophone.

Neill Sanders

was born in London in 1923, son of violinist, and has a brother who plays the flute. He won an open scholarship to the Royal College of Music in 1939, after which he did a season with the Scottish Orchestra before becoming principal horn with the L.S.O. He spent seven years with Denniss Brian in the Philharmonia Orchestra and is at present co-principal in the B.B.C. Symphony Orchestra.

Michael Thomas

is at present recording concerts and making permanent recordings of music of keyboard instruments of exceptional historical importance on the continent and in England and Ireland. During the past few years he has recorded recitals on most of the famous old harpsichords, organs and clavichords. He is a person who has made the most thorough study of the technique, phrasing and ornamentation of old music and has, through his long experience and experiments with old instruments, learned how these techniques may best be applied to the old instruments that were used in historical times.

Terence Weil

studied at the Royal Academy of Music, where he won numerous prizes for Chamber Music including the Sir Edward Cooper prize. He was a member of the Hurwitz String Quartet until it disbanded in 1951. He has been principal ‘cello of many chamber orchestras but is at present free-lancing. He is a founder member of the Melos Ensemble.

[p 12]

[advertisement, Universal Edition, for the path to the new music by Anton Webern]

[p 13]

Sunday 16th August

5.0 p.m. Lecture

in the Assembly Room

8.30 p.m. Concert

in the Assembly Room

[p 14/15]

Music in Our Time

Lecture 5.0 p.m.

ALEXANDER GOEHR will lecture on certain aspects of contemporary music with particular reference to works being performed in the evening concert.

Concert 8.30 p.m.

Introduced by MICHAEL TIPPETT

A concert of contemporary English Music

Promoted by: Institute of Contemporary Arts.

Society for the Promotion of New Music

Barbara Elsie            Soprano

Margaret Kitchin            Pianoforte

Peter Maxwell Davies            Pianoforte

Richard Adeney            Flute

Gervase de Peyer            Clarinet

Neill Sanders            Horn

Osian Ellis            Harp

Emmanuel Hurwitz            Violin

Terence Weil            ‘Cello

John Carewe            Conductor

Three Piano Pieces, op.5            Hugh Wood

These pieces were written for my wife to play, the first for a Wigmore Hall recital in January 1961, and the whole set for a midday recital at the 1963 Cheltenham Festival. the first, Lento, consists of a long tune with rises to a climax, after which some introductory material is heard again. The second, Energico, is the longest of the three, a rondo with episodes and an introduction; the first episode features constant trills, the second is lyrical, in a slower tempo. The main theme appears in a different register each time. The third piece, Calmo, is very short, reminiscent in its materials, valedictory in its nature.

[p 16]

Monody for Corpis Christi Harrison Birtwistle

[lyrics reproduced in original]

The first movement is a simple arch whose main member is the vocal line (to which all other parts are embellishments and from which they may be said to stem). Its rise and descent are emphasized by the gradual addition of instruments from the beginning and their subtraction towards the end, and by the gradually increasing complexity of the instrumental episodes separating the couplets.

This movement leads without a break into an instrumental fantasia Quasi fanfara in contrasting sections, at first very short and static, then longer and more flowing, the whole serving as a transition between the different levels of tension of the two movements for voice.

The third movement follows without interruption and again the overall form is very simple. Each stanza grows in intensity towards its end; in between the two there is a brief instrumental episode ending with a flute cadenza.

Sonata for Piano Anthony Gilbert

This sonata was written in 1961-62 and was first performed by Margaret Kitchin at the S.P.N.M. Cheltenham Festival concert in 1962. There are three movements:

1. Vivace. The overall shape is that of classical sonata form with two contrasting subject-groups, a bipartite section of development in which each group is treated in accordance with its individual character, and an elliptical reprise and coda.

2. Cantilena is a simple, song-type movement in three sections of continuous variation. The middle section, characterized by a pedal, forms a central point of repose for the whole sonata, while the third part recalls the other two and has the function of a coda.

[p 17]

3. Scherzo. This opens with two contrasting motifs and the first part of the movement is concerned with their development and gradual integration. As they become more completely combined the section reaches a climax which triggers off Trio 1, a set of short variations on a rhythmic motif. After a short link using first-section material there follows Trio 2, which is free and rhapsodic in character, and has echoes of the first and second movements. The final section is a telescoped and varied version of the first.

Sonata No.2 for Piano Michael Tippett

This Sonata was written early in 1962 and first performed by Margaret Kitchin at the

Edinburgh Festival of that year. It is in one continuous movement.

Composed very shortly after the completion of “King Priam,” the sonata derives form from the dramatic structure of at opera, and some of its materials from the orchestral piano part. It constitutes a complete departure from normal sonata procedure in that there is virtually no development; the sonata grows by statement – the constant addition of new material and by variation and repetition of material previously given. Constant use is made of new materials and by variation and repetition of material previously given. Constant use is made of contrasts: contrasts of texture, contrasts of tempi and timbres and contrasts between static and dynamic. Towards the end the phrases and motifs get shorter and tension grows until the final page, which is a coda concerned with the elimination of the principal motifs.

INTERVAL (25 minutes)

Five Little Pieces Peter Maxwell Davies

(first performance)

The five little piano pieces were composed between 1960 and 1962.

Suite, op. 11            Alexander Goehr

This work was commissioned by the Aldeburgh Festival Committee for the Melos Ensemble who gave its first performance in June, 1961. The object was to produce a piece of light, serenade-like character with an important part for flute and harp. There are five movements.

The first is a quick movement in three main sections. The first and second of these alternate two sharply distinguished types of material in continually varied forms; the third in contrast is a flowing section for solo flute with string accompaniment. There are two repeats: the first section is played again immediately, and the second again after the third.

The second movement is an Intermezzo for harp in improvisatory style. The structural principle is the note-by-note changing of two superimposed chords by pedal shifts.

The third movement is a Scherzo. This is very lightly scored, being almost all in one part over a pedal. Of its two main motifs, the first on the ‘cello is recognisable as the clarinet motif from the first movement in equal notes. Its “head” is used throughout the movement as a sort of punctuation mark dividing sections. The Trio comes right at the end and is for the three stringed instruments only; finally there is an eight-bar coda on scherzo material.

The fourth movement is an Arietta for solo flute, backed by a horn pedal of three notes, with brief answering figures on viola, ‘cello and harp.

The finale is a true Quodlibet in which short blocks of material from all the previous movements are juxtaposed mosaic-wise. There are two cadenzas: one for flute on Scherzo material, and one for harp on Trio material. The whole is held together by a horn-call which recurs like a rondo-theme, and whose origins are revealed to the sharp ear on its final appearance.

[p 18]

[Advertisement for UE composers Harrison Birtwistle and Hugh Wood]

[p 19]

Monday, 17th August

5.0 p.m. RECITAL

in the Old Kitchen

8.30 p.m. CONCERT

in the Assembly Room

[p 20/21]

Early Organ Music            Recital 5.0 p.m.

Peter Maxwell Davies will introduce and play early music on a newly restored Snitzler organ. Works by: Dunstable, Taverner, Byrd, Tomkins, Gabrielli, Scheidt, Zipoli etc.

The Organ

The organ belongs to Peter Maxwell Davies and was made by Snitzler in 1768.

Snitzler’s soundboards have little pallets directly under the keys which are operated by a pin on the underside of the key, thus giving an extremely light and responsive touch. The disadvantage of this method is that the wind channels are small, so that it is only possible to play three or four rows of pipes at once.

This organ originally possessed an ordinary stopped Diapason 8’, and open Diapason 8’ which contrasted with it, a Dulciana with tongues and beards, and a very small scale, also 8’, and small Dulciana Principle: the effect was rather soft and lacked virility. The pipes were therefore transposed to give a stopped Diapason and Principle, and the Dulcianas became the 12th and 15th. In this way the incisive Snitzler tone was immediately regained.

Chamber Concert            8.30 p.m.

Melos Ensemble

Lamar Crowson            Piano

Gervase de Peyer            Clarinet

Emmanuel Hurwitz            Violin

Neill Sanders            Horn

Terence Weil            ‘Cello

Pianoforte Trio in F sharp minor Haydn

Haydn’s Piano Trios belong rather to his piano music than to that for string ensemble. The keyboard plays a dominant part in all of them and the use of the violin, and particularly the ‘cello, is held by some authorities to be optional. The first editions describe them as “Sonatas pour le piano-forte avec accompagnement de violon et violoncello,” and the violin rarely goes above 2nd position, the ‘cello merely duplicating the bass of the piano.

This interesting work is one of a group of three composed in or before 1795 and dedicated to his English friend, Mrs. Schroeter.

There are three movements, the first of which, a sonata allegro, is notable for its wealth but as it reaches the dominant cadence it acquires a minor flavour, providing an excuse to plunge straight into A for the middle section. The procedure in reverse brings back the tonic towards the end.

The Finale is a Minuet in F-sharp minor of great beauty, with a trio consisting of the same material transplanted to the tonic major. Without going beyond the canons of Haydn’s normal minuet procedure, it provided a most satisfactory ending to the work.

[p 22]

Six Little Piano Pieces, op. 19            Schoenberg

Light, tender

Slow.

Very slow.

Quick, but light.

Somewhat quick.

Very slow.

The first five of these pieces were written on 19th February, 1911; the sixth was written in June, just four weeks after the death of Mahler, to whom it constitutes a kind of epitaph.

Around this time perhaps more than at any other period Schoenberg was preoccupied with problems of form – particularly of finding more appropriate vessels for his rapidly evolving atonality. There is no doubt that he was struck by the aphoristic manner of Webern’s op. 6, and particularly of the violin pieces op. 7, to the extent of being impelled to see what possibilities the very short form held for himself.

In addition, in these little pieces we find him for the first time calling into question the traditional relationship between melody and accompaniment, and investigating the possibility of more interesting functions for the latter. So, for example, in Nos. 1, 2 and 4 it becomes merely an extension or feature of the melody, serving to heighten its expressiveness in various ways, and No. 6, the strangest piece of all, is concerned with the almost elimination of both elements.

Seven Sketches, op. 9            Bartok

These piano pieces were composed between 1908-10, and are, in a way, a diary of Bartók’s development as a composer in these years. The first ones reflect his early preoccupation with western mannerisms – particularly impressionism; the later ones show his growing interest in the folk-idioms of his own land.

1. Portrait of a Young Girl: to wit, Marta Ziegler, its dedicatee, whom he married in 1909. A short piece in ternary form, betraying the influence of, surprisingly enough, Busoni in its harmonic style and its treatment of material.

2. A Swing. Two motifs are used in alternation: the first a rocking, polytonal figure, the second a bagpipe tune in not quite a whole tone scale.

3. is dedicated to Mr. and Mrs. Z. Kodály. The lack of title emphasizes Bartòk’s abandonment of impressionism; the piece is simply a rhapsodic melody unfolded in rubato-parlando style over an accompaniment of major tenths.

4. is another rhapsodic piece. After an 11-bar introduction a Hungarian-style melody is presented in varied forms over a florid accompaniment.

5. A Rumanian Folk Melody, and 6., a dance in the Valachian manner, are still closer to popular sources, and foreshadow the Bartók of Mikrokosmos.

7. In this piece, perhaps the most interesting of all the Sketches, brief modal phrases succeed one another with striking juxtapositions of tonality; there is a gradual metamorphosis to irregular rhythms and whole-tone scales, and in the long code to note-clusters.

Première Rhapsodie for clarinet and piano            Debussy

This piece was written in 1910 as a test piece for clarinet competitions at the Conservatoire at which it was Debussy’s duty to adjudicate. It was subsequently orchestrated (the style of the accompaniment seems to indicate that this was his intention all along) and in this form is said to have been regarded by Debussy as one of the most pleasing pieces he had written.

It is freely constructed (as befits a Rhapsody) from static blocks of contrasting material in three main categories: slow and dreamy, poco mosso and scherzando, sharply juxtaposed or joined by brief linking passages.

Four Pieces for clarinet and piano, op.5             Berg

These pieces were written in the summer of 1913, and are dedicated to Schoenberg’s “Society for Private Performances,” under whose auspices they were first played more than six years later. Their epigrammatic style is an untypical of Berg as Schoenberg’s op. 19, their obvious model, is of him.

1. The clarinet’s opening six-note figure is a skilful simultaneous exposition of all the motivic elements of the piece, which in any case all spring from the single governing principle of intervallic expansion. Its form is very simple – the piano and clarinet move in opposite directions to the central climax which is held for two bard and then quickly falls away to a code of static harmonies.

2. This utilizes the same motivic elements as No. 1 in a pianissimo conflict between two kinds of ostinato accompaniment in the piano and a simple melodic line in the clarinet. The climax is expressed without rising above p, simply being the point at which the conflict resolves in favour of one of the ostinati.

3. Another very quiet piece, falling into four sharply contrasted sections, the first two quick and nervous, the third slow and flowing and the fourth an elliptical reprise and headlong code to be played as quickly and quietly as possible.

4. This piece takes farther the idea inherent in No. 3. The contrasted sections, each characterized by a different ostinato, are again present (though the speeds are the reverse of those in No. 3); likewise the sonata-like reprise before the code. Now, however, in spite of the ostinato, the piece is not static: it is aimed at the explosive climax which ends the first part of the code. The coda proper is simply three bars of echo.

INTERVAL (25 minutes)

[p 24]

Fantasia in C minor, K475            Mozart

This piece, written in 1875 for his gifted pupil Thérèse von Trattner, is one of four Fantasias for the piano composed in Mozart’s later years. It was customary for him to precede performances of his sonatas with an improvised introduction in the same key; the present Fantasia, published by Mozart as a prelude to the Sonata K457, may be taken as a fairly close indication of the nature of these improvisations.

It is made up of five contrasted open-ended sections: the first Adagio, the second a D major episode in the same tempo, the third a stormy Allegro in two halves, linked by a brief cadenza to the fourth, Andantino in B-flat; the fifth is another stormy Allegro. The whole is rounded off by a recapitulation and code on first-section material.

The organization of keys is interesting. The first, third and fifth sections are unstable and constantly modulating, any affirmations of the home (or any) key being rigorously avoided. The second and fourth are anchor sections firmly in keys two removes [sic] from home on the dominant and the subdominant sides respectively – so that the acute ear may sense an implied tonic midway between. However, not until the final section is the home key reached and established.

Trio for Piano, Violin and Horn, op.40            Brahms

This is one of a group of works composed after Brahms’ resignation in 1864 as Director of the Vienna Choral Society. It is a very much a horn trio; the horn part is as it were the backbone of the work, and the character of all the melodic material is determined by its appropriateness to that instrument.

The first movement is an Andante of unusual design, with boldly planned key relationships. There are two balancing sections, each in two contrasting parts, organised as follows: Andante in E-flat (2/4 time); poco più animato in C minor and G minor (9/8); Andante in E-flat; poco più animato in E-flat minor and B-flat minor, leading to a final Andante in G-flat which modulates back to the home key at the final climax.

The Scherzo begins with a long (12-bar) upbeat to the principal motif, whose four bars of 2/4 rhythm in 3 contrast strikingly with the overall 3/4 pulse.  The whole of the first section is built up from the material of these first 16 bars – a secondary motif given out by the horn on the next page plays little part in the growth of the movement. The Trio in the subdominant minor is less exuberant and decisive in character; the melody owes its outline to the “upbeat” motif of the previous section. After 76 bars uninterrupted by any form of full cadence the Scherzo is given de capo.

In the third movement, Adagio mesto in E-flat minor, there are four sections whose exact symmetry and the economy of whose material are belied by the flowing, almost rhapsodic manner in which the music unfolds.

The Finale is a lively movement in sonata form, through whose many modulations the horn is handled with such adroitness that accidentals seldom appear in the part.

[p 25]

Tuesday, 18th August

5.0 p.m. Lecture

in the Assembly Room

8.30 p.m. Concert

in the Assembly Room

[p 26/27]

Quartet for the End of Time            Lecture 5.0 p.m.

Olivier Messiaen, the Man and His Music

given by Hugh Wood

Concert 8.30 p.m.

Members of the Melos Ensemble

Emmanuel Hurwitz            Violin [viola]

Gervase de Peyer            Clarinet

Terence Weil            Violoncello

Lamar Crowson            Pianoforte

Clarinet Trio in E flat K498            Mozart

Andante;

Menuetto;

Rondo – Allegretto

The year 1786 was a trying one for Mozart. He was heavily in debt, his newly completed Marriage of Figaro had been withdrawn after only nine performances, and he had lost his third son. Nevertheless in the space of only six months he managed to turn out eight masterpieces, of which this Trio is one. It was written for his friends Francisca Jacquin and Anton Stadler with Mozart himself playing the viola part.

The unusual choice of instruments gives a mellow, closely-knit ensemble capable of considerable expressive power, and it was no doubt with this possibility in mind that Mozart made the first movement an andante rather than an allegro, almost – but not quite – discarding the sonata in favour of the song-form. The movement grows continuously from the motif in the first bar, and very little other material is introduced,

The second movement is a vigorous Minuet with a Trio effectively contrasting the timbres of the clarinet and viola in dialogue.

The theme of the final Rondo springs from a fragment of the “2nd subject” in the first movement. Little important music is given to the viola in the first section, in order to heighten the effect of its striking C-minor entry in the second episode. Save for a few bars of A-flat melody in the central part, its rôle is secondary until nearly the end, during a final brilliant reworking of the Rondo theme.

[p 28]

Four Impromptus, op. 142            Schubert

This is the style under which, mainly for commercial reasons. Schubert published the first of four piano sonatas written during the last 10 months of his life. And although undeniably a sonata of sorts, there is a certain looseness about its construction which suits its new name better.

For instance, in the first movement, Allegro moderato, there is an F-minor first subject and an A-major second subject, but where we might expect a development there is a longish passage of new material which moves into all sorts of interesting keys but does not grow. This innovation is taken a step further when the passage is reintroduced in the recapitulation, and at last Schubert’s scheme – a simple binary form – becomes apparent.

The second movement, Allegretto, is a Sarabande and trio going hand in hand with the first movement in key and character.

The third, Andante, is a set of variations on a tune from Rosamunde.

The finale, Allegro Scherzando, is in clearly defined ABA form, but the manner of organising the material in the outer sections gives it certain Rondo characteristics. It is perhaps the most imaginative of the movement. Cross-rhythms abound, the harmonic structure is striking, and the lead back from the central to the final section is magical.

INTERVAL (25 minutes)

Quatuor pour la fin du temps Olivier Messiaen

“And I saw another might angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud, and a rainbow was on his head, and his face was as the sun, and his feet were as pillars of fire… and he set his right foot upon the sea, and his left foot upon the earth… and standing upon the sea and upon the earth, lifted up his head to heaven; and he swore by him that liveth for ever… that time shall be no longer; but in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound the trumpet, the mystery of God shall be finished…” (Apocalypse of St. Jonn, Chapter X).

Conceived and written during my captivity, the Quatuor pour la fin du temps was first performed in Stalag Villa on 15th January, 1941, by Jean le Boulaire (violin), Henri Akoka (clarinet), Etienne Pasquier (‘cello) and myself on the piano. It was directly inspired by the above quotation from the Apocalypse. Its musical language is essentially immaterial, spiritual, catholic. Modes which, melodically and harmonically, realize a kind of tonal ubiquity, being the listener nearer to eternity in space or the infinite. Special rhythms, not bound by regular metre, powerful serve to put the temporal at a distance. (All this is but mere tentative stammering if one thinks of the overwhelming grandeur of its subject).

This “Quartet” is in eight movements. Why so? Seven is the perfect number, the six days of creation sanctified by the divine Sabbath; the seven of rest extends into eternity and becomes the eight of undecaying light, of unalterable peace.

1. “Liturgy of Crystal.” Between three and four in the morning, the birds awaken: a blackbird or solo nightingale improvises, surrounded by a fine sprinkling of sound, a halo of trills lost high in the treetops. Transfer this to the religious place, and you have the harmonious silence of heaven.

2. “Vocalise, for the Angel who announces the end of Time.” The first and third parts (very short) evoke the power of this mighty angel arrayed in cloud with a rainbow upon his head, who places one foot upon the sea and the other foot upon the land. The “middle section” depicts the impalpable harmonic of heaven. Gentle cascades of orange-blue chords on the piano surround with their distant carillon quasi-plainchant recitatives on violin and ‘cello.

3. “Abyss of the birds.” Clarinet solo. The abyss is Time, with its sadness, its wearinesses. The birds are the opposite of Time; they are our desire for light, stars, rainbows and paeans of jubilation.

4. “Interlude.” A Scherzo, more extrovert in character than the previous movement, but linked with them, nevertheless, by a number of melodic “reminders.”

5. “Praise to the Eternity of Jesus.” Jesus is considered here as the Word. A long ‘cello phrase, infinitely slow, magnifies with love and reverence the eternity of this might and gently Word, “whose years shall never be exhausted.” Majestically the melody spreads out, into the tender and sovereign distance. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”

6. “Dance of fury for the seven trumpets.” Rhythmically, this is the most characteristic piece of the set. The four instruments playing in unison take on the sound of gongs and trumpets (the first six trumpets of the apocalypse following by various catastrophes, the trumpet of the seventh angel announcing the consummation of the mystery of God. Use is made of added values, augmented or diminished rhythms, and non-retrogradable rhythms. Stone music, formidable granitic sound; the irresistible movement of steel, enormous blocks of purple fury, glacial drunkenness. Listen above all to the terrible fortissimo augmentation of the theme with its notes all changed in register which comes towards the end of the piece.

7. “A confusion of rainbows, for the Angel who announced the end of Time.” Certain passages for the second movement return here. The almighty Angel appears, and so, particularly, does the rainbow which he wears (the rainbow, symbol of peach, goodness, and of all vibration in light and sound). In my dreams I hear and see groups of chords and melodies, known colours and shapes; then after this transitory phase I move into the unreal and experience with ecstasy a whirling and mingling together of superhuman sounds and chords. These fiery swords, these torrents of blue-orange lava, these sudden starts: these are confusions, these are rainbows.

8. “Praise to the Immortality of Jesus.” A broad violin solo, acting as pendant  to the ‘cello solo of the 5th movement. Why this second praise? It is addressed more particularly to the second aspect of Jesus, to Jesus the Man, to the Word made flesh, returning immortal to give us His life. It is all love. Its slow climb to the heights is the ascension of man towards his God, of the child of God towards its Father, of the beatified creatures towards Paradise.

– And I say again what I said above: “all thus us but mere tentative stammering if one thinks of the overwhelming grandeur of its subject.’

(Notes translated from score by Anthony Gilbert)

[p 30]

At the age of 56, Olivier Messiaen is almost certainly the most distinguished composer working in Europe today. He was born in 1908 at Avignon, song of a Shakespearean scholar and a poetess. He entered the Paris Conservatoire when he was only 11, and there studied the organ under Marcel Dupré, theory under Maurice Emmanuel and composition under Paul Dukas. At 18 he won the first prize for counterpoint and fugue, and he went on to win first prizes for piano accompaniment, organ playing, improvisation, music history and composition. His first mature work was, like so much of his later output, for the organ: Le Banquet Céleste, written in 1928. The Eight Preludes for piano followed in 1929: it was on the recommendation of Dukas that they were published. In 1931 he was appointed organist at the Great Organ of Holy Trinity, Paris. Other works of these years include Les Offrandes oubliées, L’Ancension, the Theme and Variations for Violin and Piano, and the Nativité du Seigneur cycle for organ. In 1936 he appeared as the leader of a group of young musicians calling themselbes “La Jeune France,” the other being André Jolivet, Daniel Lesur and Yves Baudrier. In this year also he was appointed professor at the Ecole Normale and at the Schola Cantorum. Works 1936-39: Poemes pour Mi, Chants de terre et de ciel, and the Corps glorieué for organ.

Messiaen enlisted at the beginning of the war and was taken prisoner during the fall of France in 1940. It was in a German prison camp in Silesia that he wrote the Quatuor pour la fin du temps (1941). This work was the harbinger of the most prolific period of his career. He was repatriated to occupied France and then wrote the Visions de l’Amen for two pianos, for Trios petites liturgies de la Présence Divine (the first work of his to become widely known after the war), the immense piano work Vignt regards sur l’Enfant Jésus, the similarly large-scale song-cycle Harawi, and then his chef d’oeuvre the Turangalila Symphony. This was written in 1946-48 and has been performed many times all over Europe and in America since its first performance in Boston in 1949. In 1953 and 1954 two performance took place in London, conducted by Walter Goehr. The work has recently been recorded.

On his return to France, Messiaen had been appointed professor of harmony at the Conservatoire, and before the end of the war a lively group of young pupils had gathered themselves round him, including the 19-year-old Pierre Boulez. The title of his appointment was changed in 1947 to that of Professor of Aesthetics, rhythmic studies and of the analysis class; a wider range of pupils now included Karheinz Stockhausen, Jean Barraque, Yannis Xenakis and Gilbert Amy. During the years 1947-53 Messiaen gave classes at various musical centres, including Budapest, Sarrebruck, Tanglewood and Darmstadt. His Quatre Etudes de rhythme for piano was begun on Darmstaft in 1949, and this work has had a great influence on composers of the Darmstadt circle. Other works of this time: Canteyodjaya for piano; the Cinq Rechants for choir; the Messe de la Pentecote for organi; Le Merle Noir for flute and piano; and the Livre d’orgue.

During the last 10 years Messiaen’s name has become well-known all over the world and his importance recognised as one of the sources of new musical thought. Latterly his works are even to be heard in England, where in particular his organ music now received regular performances. A recent group of works springs from the composer’s lifelong preoccupation with bird-song: the Réveil des oiseaux (1953) for piano and orchestra; the Oiseaux exotiques (1956) for piano, wind ensemble and percussion, and the piano work Catalogue d’oiseaux (1959). More recent still is Chronochromie (1960), an important work for large orchestra, and the Haikai for piano and clarinet solo and chamber ensemble (1962).

Hugh Wood

[p 31]

Wednesday, 19th August

5.0 p.m. Recital

in the Old Kitchen

8.30 p.m. Discussion

in the Assemble Room

[p 32/33]

Flute and Harpsichord

Recital 5.0 pm

Lucy Berthoud            Flute

Michael Thomas            Harpsichord

Suite in D Major            Rameau

Sonata in B Minor            J. S. Bach

Ordre in B Minor            Couperin

Sonata No. 6 in E Minor            J. S. Bach

Rameau and Couperin

Couperin (Le Grand), 1668-1733. His music for clavecin was called “Ordres,” another name for suite. They were published between 1713-30 with varying numbers of movements, some with 10 or 15 and the longest 23. He was a master of a musical miniature and pieces include portrait studies and nature sketches, e.g. Les Tricoteuses and Les Petits Moulins a Vent.

Rameau, 1683-1764. He was the most prominent figure of his day in French opera but won fame in all musical arts including writing for the clavecin in which he followed Couperin. Picturesque titles of his music for harpsichord include La Poule and Les Tourbillons.            G.S.S.

Flute Sonatas J.S. Bach

Bach wrote six flute sonatas, the first three have a fully written up part for the right hand of the harpsichord and can, therefore, be regarded as trio sonatas with the harpsichord playing the solo melodic part as well as the base. No. 1 in B minor has a long first movement marked andante in which the flute and the harpsichord alternate in a long melodic line and, of course, often play the two subjects against each other. Indeed both subjects are played together in the very first line. The faster semiquaver subject can really be regarded as two parts in quavers, as is so common in much of Bach’s music, which looks like a single part. It contains no harmony but tonic and dominant till the third bar. The harmony changes abruptly when a chromatic movement is introduced. This is, of course, developed in the course of the movement. The middle section of the movement is a much lighter subject in quick moving triplets. This is perhaps the longest and one of the most beautiful movements in all the Bach sonatas. The 2nd movement, a largo, is really a development form the siciliano but considerable complications and additions have arisen in the rhythm by the second bar. The 3rd movement is a short movement marked presto and starts with a canon with the harpsichord following the flute nine bars later. This time there is a chromatic climbing movement. The movement is in the form of a fughetta without cadence to the end. The last movement is a jig but of the highly developed type and note suitable for dancing in so far as the first beat of the three semiquavers instead of being an articulated down beat is actually a sustained syncopation in the very first bar. Again this contains a canon but it is at the unison pitch instead of at the 5th, the harpsichord entering in the fourth bar. Bach’s flute sonata No. 6 begins with an adagio but which is a completely expressive work and it would be difficult to say that it was closely related to any of the dance movement but bears more resemblance to a slow movement by Quantz. The 2nd movement is allegro in straight-forward binary form and in the Italian style. The 3rd movement is again a siciliano. The 4th movement is allegro again in binary form.

[p 34/35]

The Harpsichord

While engaged in restoring harpsichords, Michael Thomas became interested in two types of this instrument, which seemed to him to be particularly fine: one being the Italian and the other the French type.

After much experimenting independent of any specific model, Michael Thomas constructed this instrument in which he has sought to incorporate the best qualities of each type.

He uses the light construction and small bridge found in the Italian model, thus giving it simultaneously a deep hollow resonance and an enormous harmonic range; and by bending the wood of the curved side only as far as it will naturally and easily go, he has obtained the depth of tone of the French instrument. A clear attack on each note is achieved by the use of quills for plucking the harpsichord.

Opera Today            Discussion 8.30 p.m.

Alexander Goehr, Peter Maxwell Davies, Michael Tippett

Chairman: Harrison Birtwistle

Opera Today

Michael Tippett’s activities in the operatic field are already well known to all. His two works for the stage, dating from 1952 and 1961 respectively, for which in both cases he was his own librettist, are among the most striking and original contributions to opera this century.

Peter Maxwell Davies has for the past two years been working on his first opera, based on the life of John Taverner, and now nearing completion.

Alexandr Goehr began, and abandoned, his first opera some years ago. Its subject was the Women of Troy, and a fragment survives in the orchestral work Hecuba’s Lament. His activities in recent months as musical director of various stage productions at the Mermaid Theatre have resulted in his increasing absorption with music on the stage, and he has recently been commissioned to write an opera on the play Arden of Feversham.

[p 36]

[advertisement for Schott’s composers: Banks, Blomdahl, Davies, Franciax, Fricker, Gilbert, Goehr, Hamilton, Hartman, Henze, Hindemith, Huber, Nono, Orff, Rainier, Schoenberg, Schuller, Searle, Seiber, Stravinsky and Tippett.]

[p 37]

Thursday, 20th August

5.0 p.m. Recital

in the Assembly Room

8.30 p.m. Lecture

in the Assembly Room

[p 38/39]

Matinee for Erik Satie            Recital 5.0 p.m.

Susan McGaw            Piano

Four songs without words Mendlessohn

F sharp minor op. 19, no. 5

B minor op.67, no. 5

F minor op. 62, no. 3

A minor op. 38, no. 5

1st Gymnopedies Satie

3rd Gnossiemme Satie

Vieux sequins et Vielles Cuirasses Satie

Passion Sonata no. 6, A major            C. P. E. Bach

Allegro

Adagio

Allegro

Pieces friod 1st set            Satie

Airs a faire fuire Satie

Three songs without words Mendelssohn

G major op. 62, no. 1

D major op. 85, no. 4

A major op. 102, no. 5

Erik Satie: 1866-1925

The amount of discussion of a non-musical nature aroused by Satie’s eccentricities led people for many years almost to forget he was a musician; now, with the arrival of new eccentrics on the musical scene, most people have even forgotten Satie the lunatic. Even when, at the age of 54, he suddenly found himself hailed as leader of the Parisian avant-garde, it was less as a musician than as High Priest of a new aesthetic cult devised by Cocteau that he was worshipped, and rarely at any period since his death have any but a dwindling number of devotees taken the trouble to disregard the funny words and listen simply to his music.

This is a pity, because although undeniably a most interesting character in many ways, it is in the light of his contribution as a composer pure and simple that he new deserves to be considered.

Maybe he never produced a large-scale masterpiece, and maybe his influence is not as profound or as far-reaching as other influences this century; nevertheless, musically he is a true original, and the best of his work has a timeless quality that puts it in another category altogether from all the bizarrerie.

His was a fairly prolific composer, the bulk of his output being for the piano, either solo or duet, and this portion of his work contains his best and most characteristic pieces. Few of them are long; most are in groups, generally of three; and quite often, like the Gymnopédies and the Sarabandes, they are just three ways of looking at the same idea.

He had a way of anticipating points of technique in other composers by some 15 or 20 years. In his earlier piano pieces are to be found harmonic innovations used much later by Debussy and Ravel; slightly later pieces gave Stravinsky his mechanical accompaniment figures, and in later ones still, in particular the “3 Valses du Précieux Dégoûté” and the 20 “Sports et Divertissements,” his masterpiece, we find utilizes Messiaen’s techniques of incantatory repetition and the systematic juxtaposition of brief unrelated phrases.

The groups of pieces we are to hear this afternoon are among his best-known and least-known works. The Gymnopédies were published in 1887 and quickly achieved popularity; Vieux Séquins et Vielles Cuirasses (1914) belongs to a period of advanced buffoonery through which Satie went during the years following his celebrated return to the Schola Cantorum

[p 40/41]

Lecture 8.30 p.m.

Musical Characterization in Mozart Opera

with particular reference to Don Giovanni

Stephen Pruslin, Princeton University

Friday, 21st August

8.30 p.m. Concert

at Old Wardour Castle

Saturday, 22nd August

8.30 p.m. Concert

at Donhead St. Andrew Parish Church

[p 42/43]

Concert 8.30

Nocturnal

A concert in the open air* of English and Italian echo-music from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries for brass and voices.

Given by: Gabrieli Ensemble and Choir conducted by Peter Maxwell Davies, Alexander Goehr.

Music by: Maschera, Isaac, A. and G. Gabrieli, Locke, etc.

* Under cover if wet

Concert 8.30 p.m.

Participants Concert

A concert given by the participants of the summer school

Conductors: John Carewe, Michael Tippett

Morgengesang C. P. E. Bach

Symphony Haydn

Sequentia Sanctia Evangeli Secundam Lucan, in illo Tempore XXII 14-20 Peter Maxwell Davies

(first performance written for the summer school)

Fantasias Gibbons

For these concerts a more comprehensive programme will be available on the day.

Este ora 11 :26 si cateva secunde… pana voi termina articolul va fi vreo 11:30 – 11:40.

Dupa cum spuneam, e ora 11:26 si vreau muzica… Vreau shoogy-dooghy-boogy sau shooby-dooby-wooby cu un pic de chuba-chuba si mai mult da-dam-ta-dam. Vreau Ray Charles, vreau Elvis Presley, vreau Hit the road Jack, vreau blue suede shoes. Vreau energie, vreau sa zbarnaie toata lumea, vreau sa vibreze viata in tot ce vad! Ma plictisesc de… tot. Nimic nu mai e shooby-dooby…

Apoi intru in cadere si ma rasucesc la 180 de grade, incepand sa-mi doresc un blues, un jazz, ceva mai elevat, sau daca nu, mai trist, mai molcom, mai “neiesit din randuri”, ceva lipsit de energie. Vreau un… Dream a little dream of me sau un wish you were here, sau un slow a la Led Zeppelin. Of… balonarii astia le au cu muzica. Mai ales cu bluesurile. Asculta tu dazed and confused sau babe, i’m gonna leave you si spune-mi apoi ca esti indiferent… muzica asta te atinge.

Te, sau ma resemnez/i si incep/i sa ies/i din starea asta si cautam un Beethoven sau un Brahms sau oricare alt clasic, ceva sa ne calmeze, sa ne neutralizeze, sa ne aplatizeze iesirile din comun si asculti asculti simfonia a 5a de Beethoven si..gata? Esti normal? Sunt “neiesit din comun”? Vorbim despre mine sau despre tine? (m-am incurcat ).

Ma duc apoi la culcare in ipostaza normalului, simtindu-ma neutru, comun, “normal” sau “cum ar trebui sa ma simt inainte de alta noapte obisnuita, in care voi avea un somn obisnuit” si visez cu ochii deschisi pentru ca mintea mi-e prea incarcata. Oricat incerc sa ma comport normal nu pot si asta se reflecta asupra somnului. Si tu probabil ai o “neregula”, un semnal care urla “NU ESTI NORMAL! NU ESTI LA FEL CA CEILALTI! Pentru numele lui Dumnezeu, ati avut parinti diferiti!!” . Si stau apoi minute sau ore in pat pana adorm; deobicei tot cu o melodie in gand, deobicei ceva ce am auzit in ziua respectiva si nu-mi pot scoate din minte, oricat  de nasoala ar fi melodia dupa standardele mele.

…camera de hotel…. pat…lumina puternica… soare…. balcon…. briza diminetii….iar soarele ala tampit… ceata…. CEATA?! Casc ochii mai bine, ma frec pertinent la globii oculari si-mi dau seama ca iar e ceata de-o tai cu cutitul si ca “paradisul” maritim inca nu s-a mutat in fundul asta de tara; nu se vede blocul de peste strada. Ma uit la ticaitor: 5:40. Ieeee… iar o zi interesanta (cu 3-4 ore de somn din 8 minimum recomandate, orice e interesant) pornesc laptopul si muzica. Hm…ce sa aleg? E o dimineata imputita… deci muzica trebuie sa fie… optimista! orice dimineata trebuie inceputa optimist, cu un dus de ala comunist, cu apa la -0 grade, cu paine uscata, ceai in care ai scapat prea multa miere, eventual ai inlocuit mierea “din greseala” cu dulceata sau unt (cum fac eu cand zbarnai prea puternic de energie…), un gand de ala fericit care te duce la cele 2 lucrari si tema la franceza nefacuta care te asteapta azi la scoala eventual alta sinapsa care-ti aduce o imagine fericita a unei “ea”; aici renunt la ironie si spun ca asta iti mai aduce un ranjet idiot pe fata . Te gandesti la “ea” sau “el”( “el” daca din diferite motive iti lipseste testosteronul) si incepi sa pui inca o doza de unt in ceai si miere pe fata de masa, incepi sa razi pana vine maica-ta si-ti insenineaza iar ziua cu un dragastos “la ce ora te-ai culcat, ai capiat?! daca nu dormi..blabla”. Te scoli frumusel de la masa si antrenezi boxele intr-o vibratie optimista a lui Bobby McFerrin si incepi sa-ti trantesti competent manualele si ce-a mai ramas din caiete in ghiozdan. Se termina melodia, iti pui stiloul in compartimentul ghiozdanului, te murdaresti de cerneala, iti imbraci hainele, te uiti la paleta larga de incaltaminte care iti sta la dispozitie si optezi din nou pentru tenesii jegosi care cad in fiecare zi la datorie cu inca o cusatura, le ceri parintilor niste parale, daca ai bafta primesti, daca nu …. soarta ) si o tai pe usa. Iti pui muzicantul de servici sa-si faca treaba, te impiedici de aceeasi brodura ca in fiecare dimineata si incepi sa fredonezi ce se nimereste din playlist, in cazul meu, asta imi comenteaza fiecare dimineata .

Apoi te lasi in plictiseala orelor, o dai in bara la o lucrare, iei un 2 la franceza si te intorci acasa fericit ca ai scapat la mate. Ii explici lui maica-ta cum ai facut-o de fasole la biologie numai din cauza lui Marte care azi a intrat intre Luna si Pamant si a lui Jupiter care s-a uitat cas la Pluto care facea sarmale la 2 dimineata, cu slitul deschis. Ajungi in pat te trantesti, o ignori pe saraca si omniprezenta mama care iar isi respecta cu strictete programul, astfel ca la orele 2:20 ale dupa-amiezii te informeaza ca va certati iar daca nu-ti depui geaca in cuier… apoi urmeaza alte maruntisuri, apoi alte ganduri, apoi weekend, din care nu va lipsi muzica . Pana atunci va las cu dumnealor:

Rattle and his berliners took  San Francisco by storm. This visit was eagerly awaited since 2003 and of course, this wait was worth all the while.

Rattle leads the way..

The guys at Mercury News just melted in the luxurious music that the berliners produced in their renditions of Brahms and Schoenberg:

And in the best moments of this Brahms-based program, they played with a brand of Old World clarity and elegance that opened up vistas. To hear it was something akin to staring into an oil painting, a large landscape, enjoying the rich luster and glaze of the colors; noticing a fabulous detail or two over in the corner; and sensing the many layers concealed beneath the surface world.

Even the imperfections were part of this evening to treasure:

Not that the program — presented by the San Francisco Symphony — was somehow superhuman or even flawless. There were small gaffes: an out-of-tune clarinet, a not-quite-on-the-money trombone entrance.

But this is an orchestra to savor. Just the sight of it: Its members give themselves over to the music in a physical way that isn’t often seen in this country. At times, it was a sea of motion onstage, especially among the strings, which have a sound almost drenching in its richness.

After intermission, the orchestra played Brahms’ Symphony No. 1 in C minor, and that drenching sound, with its tremulous buildup over the timpani-driven introduction, threatened to rock the house.

Not this time: Rattle held it in check.

There was to be no revolution of the familiar, as in 2003. Only some very good Brahms: the incomparable sky-glide of the third movement; a clean explosion of pizzicato in the finale. And then Brahms’ famous melody, his tip of the hat to Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” performed with strength but also sweetness.

Rattle, again, kept the storm front at bay. And we in the audience settled for mere beauty, not transcendence.

Not such a bad thing.

Rattle and the Berliners go all the way..

Indeed….  But that is not all.  The Examiner valued the deep conections between the stars of the program offered by Rattle and his orchestra: Brahms, Shoenberg and Wagner:

It is hard to imagine a better program to illustrate the musical tensions of the latter half of the nineteenth century and their impact on the early twentieth than the one prepared by Sir Simon Rattle for the second concert by the Berliner Philharmoniker in Davies Symphony Hall last night. On the one hand we had Richard Wagner, trying to transcend the musical conventions of his time by serving the dramatic visions of his own idiosyncratic version of hero mythology.  That transcendence would carry him into unknown territories of ambiguous harmonies and sinuous melodies that never seemed to come to closure.  On the other had there was Johannes Brahms, clearly laboring under the influence of Beethoven but always seeking out new approaches to structure to fend off succumbing to that influence.  Brahms believed one could move forward without rejecting the past with the flamboyance of Wagnerian transcendence.

For this critic, the Schoenberg piece was a triumph:

The real analysis, however, comes from those who aspire to do this work justice through performance, caring less about each “tree of intellect” out of preference for the forest of “the music itself.”  Rattle has had this aspiration at least since his days with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, which provided his first serious “laboratory” for mastering Schoenberg performance technique.  Now he has brought that mastery to Berlin to expand the scope of an orchestra that pretty much sets the bar when it comes to performances of both Brahms and Wagner.

The result was nothing short of dazzling.  Schoenbergian passages that have left other conductors in a fog emerge in crystal clarity under Rattle’s guidance.

Oh, what a night!!!!!

Classical music is definitely not without its characters or humor. It’s easy to think of the great composers as high-minded and very serious men, and classical music as a serious art form, but they also had their humorous side, some more than others. Johannes Brahms is just such one these composers.

At a dinner held in Brahms’ honor the host stood up and proposed a toast to the “most famous composer.” Brahms, knowing what was coming and never liking to be the center of attention, quickly stood up and said, “Quite right! Here’s to Mozart!”

While there was a rather large feud between the supporters of Brahms and those of Wagner, the two men actually had some respect for each other and Brahms praised some of Wagner’s works. However, not all of Wagner’s operas were respected. Brahms supposedly made the following comment about Tristan: “If I look at that in the morning, I am cross for the rest of the day.” Furthermore, upon hearing of the death of a member of Wagner’s orchestra in Bayreuth, Brahms replied, “The first corpse.”

Brahms was highly critical of his own work. Once again, at another dinner, this time hosted by a wine connoisseur, the host brought what he thought to be his best bottle of wine, and pouring it into Brahms’ glass said, “This is the Brahms of my cellar.” Brahms then carefully examined the wined, inhaled its bouquet, held it to the light, and ultimately took and sip and set it down on the table. The host, eager to know Brahms’ thoughts of the wine, asked, “How do you like it?” Brahms replied, “You better bring out your Beethoven.”

Early in his career, Brahms was invited to a gathering held by Franz Liszt. Liszt, being the eminent performer that he was, Brahms refused to play one of his own compositions due to nervousness. Liszt then picked up Brahms’ composition, sight-read it perfectly and all the while keeping up a steady flow of comments. The young Brahms was quite amazed at this feat. Later on, Liszt was asked to play his own Piano Sonata in B minor. During a particularly touching moment in the piece, Liszt looked over to see Brahms’ reaction, but instead found him the composer dozing in his chair. Unfortunately, the accuracy of the source of this particular story is questionable and it’s difficult to tell if Liszt’s music really did bore Brahms or if he fell asleep from the exhaustion of the event.

This is the first of a multi-part blog on Wagner – spawned in part by the recent production of Lohengrin at Houston Grand Opera.  I know I have said over the past few weeks that we would be discussing Wagner, but as I wrote about it, I realized that there was no way I could do this in one or two blogs.  I’ll try to get the next segment on Wagner up each Tuesday for the next few weeks.  The Thursday/Friday blog will cover other topics.

As a trombone player (previous life), I always looked forward to playing Wagner.  When you play trombone in an orchestra, you spend a good amount of time playing softly, so you don’t cover up the strings.  When you do play loud, it’s at the end of a piece.  (I am speaking in generalities, of course).  It’s one of the reasons that trombonists enjoy playing Wagner.  It’s challenging, and we get to play loud!  I never gave performing Wagner a second thought – it was just great music.

The first time I met my first mentor, William Henry Curry, it was when he was delivering a speech on performing Wagner – not the performance practice – but whether we should perform Wagner at all.  Wagner was without a doubt one of the most influential composers in the history of Western music.  Much like Beethoven, every composer who came after had to confront Wagner – composers either respected or rejected his ideas but nobody could ignore them.

As Bill Curry said in his speech – in 1988, he checked with the Library of Congress about a statement that he had heard on TV, and they verified it:  The most written about person in human history was Jesus.  The second was…..Wagner.   Where does this fascination come from?  For composers, he was one of the most innovative musicians ever, so that explains why music historians study him and his music, but to be the second more written about person in history after Jesus?

In Mozart’s time and to a lesser extent in Beethoven’s time, the musician and artist were treated as yet another servant in the coterie of royalty.  (This is one reason that orchestras traditionally wear tuxedos – it’s an outgrowth of having come from the “wait staff.”)  Wagner was born into a time when musicians and artists were gaining more notoriety and respect.  The Enlightenment had created a society that was well versed in the importance of freedom and individuality.  Beethoven was perhaps the first musician to be treated as a genius and more than simply another servant.  Wagner became a composer in this world that had greater and greater respect and admiration for the artist, and after Beethoven’s death, Wagner began working to take over Beethoven’s mantle of the grand visionary composer.

Much of the challenge that Wagner confronted musically was due to Beethoven.  (This was also the challenge faced by Brahms, Bruckner… ok, all the composers post-Beethoven).  Beethoven had been so innovative in his expansion of the symphony that most composers post-Beethoven believed that the symphonic form was dead.  In other words, Beethoven had done everything that could be done with the symphony, so why try?  Wagner and Brahms each decided to approach this problem in different ways.  Brahms put off writing a symphony for many many years because he felt that anything he wrote would be measured against Beethoven.  He experimented quite a bit with symphonic forms and structure in his early works without actually writing a symphony, so he could “get it right” when he finally wrote his first symphony.  I think that in the end, he did.

Wagner, however, decided to take a completely different tack.  Since Beethoven had already done everything possible with the symphony, Wagner decided to turn his eyes to opera.

In some ways, Wagner saw opera as a continuation of the symphony – after all, even Beethoven included voices in his most amazing work, the ninth symphony.

By the way, my personal website has undergone a number of changes.  You can see it here.

I was late to Symphony Hall this afternoon, since I wasn’t ever really sure I was going to try to acquire one of the “very limited” rush tickets to today’s Celebrity Series performance featuring the Berliner Philharmoniker with Sir Simon Rattle at the helm. But I found myself at the end of a longish line, with cash in hand and hope diminishing. Talking with the German medical students behind me, we decided my lack of optimism was likely warranted, since an upset patron stormed out of the box office with the bad news that all rush tickets had gone. When one waits in line with some expectation of being able to see a performance, value estimations change dramatically. Waiting in line for rush tickets is our version of sniping stuff on eBay: at the last minute we’re willing to justify certain increases in price. In my own head, I was willing to go considerably higher since I felt that I’ve had a history of amazing deals in the $0 to $14 range. When the announcement came that there were no more rush tickets, we were waiting to see if perhaps limited leg room tickets would be available. After one experience in these jump seats ($14), I am far more willing to go up to the next price level, but it was very nice to hear people who wanted nothing more than to be inside Symphony Hall, at any expense, to be present for the Berliner Philharmoniker. One of the German students made the comment that she had never seen them in Berlin, and we found it funny that she would try to see an orchestra from her country during her five week stay in Boston. Almost cruelly, the caravan of luxury buses with the musicians pulled up to Symphony Hall, and a photographer snapped our photos as we waited in the line.

As people in front of and behind us started to leave the line, we moved up and waited patiently for any information on a general sell out, which would not have been surprising for this concert. For a moment it seemed that our persistence paid off in quite an unexpected way when they announced that more rush tickets had been made available. There were twenty, apparently, and approximately as many people in front of us. We were still not guaranteed a ticket but eventually prevailed in a big way — some of the medical students got T row orchestra tickets, while the others and I had C row orchestra seats.

Two hours later, we returned to Symphony Hall, and it would be my first time seeing an orchestra other than the Boston Symphony Orchestra perform there. As the musicians filtered onto the stage, applause filled the hall, which does not happen for the BSO musicians’ entrance. The concertmaster, an older, grizzly man with a goatee, came onto stage traditionally after the orchestra were seated, and he led the tuning. As Rattle appeared from the stage right door (nearly all conductors of the BSO enter stage left), I had the unique opportunity to see him quite close. The fluffs of gray hair bobbed around his expressive and appreciative face as he bowed graciously to an eager audience applause. He pretty much appeared exactly as pictured on his box sets.

My neighbor at today’s concert, a physics graduate student at MIT and amateur violinist, asked me what the best seat in the hall was. I may have mentioned before, but the best seat in my opinion is a virtual one, located some 20 feet above the middle of the orchestra level seats, dead center, with an unobstructed line to the stage and completely enveloped in pure sound pressure and reverberations. Other than that, the experience varies considerably between different seats in the hall. I always liken the closer perspective as the perfect headphones, where seats at the back of the hall are more like the perfect speakers. They are two completely legitimate experiences of the music, but they are vastly different. In row C, we were clearly in perfect headphones territory, unlike my previous experience with a Brahms symphony at the BSO. The farther away from center, the smaller the soundstage becomes, and the closer to the stage, the more “artificial” it seems at times.

I prefer grand symphonies and large orchestra works from the best seats in the house: middle orchestra, fairly far from the stage. Featured soloists playing as part of concertos are also experienced well here, of course, but I love the up close, intimate views of them from the first few rows and slightly stage right. While I’ve never been in the first balcony seats near the stage, I suspect these offer a unique visual perspective but nothing particularly unique aurally. In truth, there are only a handful of “bad” seats at Symphony Hall (jump seats and the ones behind the pole), and even these grant you access to hear the amazing music constantly being produced there live.

Today would be an afternoon of Brahms, to be sure, but an Arnold Schoenberg piece made a brief appearance between Symphonies No. 3 and 4. The Schoenberg was some sort of film music, apparently, and what I have to say of it is this: I have never been more appreciative of program notes that print the approximate duration of the piece (in this case, 8 minutes).

I have heard but cannot claim familiarity with the 3rd Symphony, but it was, in true Brahms style, intense and rich. This group of musicians were different from my beloved BSO in many ways. Cosmetically, all the men had colored ties on, where I remember them all uniform in the BSO. More substantially, I noted that their entire orchestra seemed to be comfortable allowing the music to move them. The entire orchestra almost swayed in visual concert, something that is not a part of our orchestra’s style. Once in awhile our first stand will express their absorption in the music, but it is a rather rare occurrence. On several passages, Rattle did not seem to be giving the orchestra any rhythmic or dynamic cues, leaving them to their own self-organization. Among the group of professional musicians, Rattle seemed to serve as even their confidence as he coaxed more and more sound out of them and also encouraged restraint when necessary. Between each piece, the members of the orchestra switched positions, which happens infrequently at the BSO; generally the night’s seating in a given section stays the way it is.

Symphony No. 4 is the piece that really opened my ears to Brahms, when the BSO performed it earlier this year. From the beautiful theme of the intense first movement, to the wild and dramatic finale, it’s an experience that’s difficult to match. The scope of No. 4 ranges from playful to serious, and the Berliner Philharmoniker executed it brilliantly. I must admit that there’s a special place in my heart for the BSO’s performance of it, but I also don’t know the piece well enough to really discern the differences. Both experiences were emotionally fulfilling, and I’m very grateful to have seen such an esteemed conductor and orchestra within the wonderful acoustics of Symphony Hall.

De malalts de Bach segur que n’hi ha molts. De fet, jo en conec un parell que són “malalts bachians crònics”. Un dels més actius és, sens dubte, el director anglès John Eliot Gardiner, una de les grans debilitats musicals de L’apuntador.

L’any 2005 Gardiner va crear la seva pròpia discogràfica i li posà com a nom Soli Deo Gloria (Només Glòria a Déu), les paraules amb que Johann Sebastian Bach firmava les seves partitures. L’objectiu principal era el de poder editar la integral de les cantates bachianes, cosa que no havia pogut fer amb la seva discogràfica de tota la vida. Amb molt poc temps, Soli Deo Gloria s’ha convertit -gràcies a uns excel·lents enregistraments, la personalitat del seu impulsor i a un disseny gens convencional- en un dels segells de referència del món del clàssic.

S’acaba d’editar una nova gravació dels ‘Concerts de Brandenburg‘ i segueixen sortint discos de cantates i ara també de simfonies de Brahms. Val la pena fer una visita per la pàgina web de la discogràfica i sentir alguns fragments (sencers) dels discos. Cal tenir, això sí, instal·lat el reproductor Real Player.

A casa nostra, la distribució la fa Diverdi.

Catching up on Carrie Brownstein’s Monitor Mix blog at NPR Music, I came across the ubiquitous “10 worst songs” post that any self-hatingrespecting music blogger has to post. One of the songs she mentioned is the one-hit wonder Eiffel 65’s “I’m Blue.” Now, I hadn’t heard that song in ages, but when I clicked the YouTube play button, it brought a smile to my face. Obviously, I don’t think it’s one of the worst/most annoying songs ever.

It does bring to mind George Carlin’s quip in his Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television: “No bad words. Bad thoughts, bad intentions. And words.”  I happen to hate Meat Loaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light”, but I know there are some people who don’t consider a wedding reception complete without it. It’s not a bad song if it’s the song you’re looking for at that moment. Fans of three-person Genesis can’t make it through “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway” (the song or the album), and fans of Peter Gabriel-era Genesis think “I Can’t Dance” is an abomination.

However, for it to be a bad song, you cannot be able to relate it to a bad event in your life, or else this statement would be OK, “Sgt. Pepper’s stinks because I heard it when my fiancée and I were breaking up.” Whether a song is bad is not related to whether I like the song. I can’t listen to Wagner, I’m much more a Brahms-ite, but I realize that in the pantheon of great music, Wagner beats Brahms hands down.

The lives of the great composers
ML390 .S393L6
780.922

The Youtube Symphony Orchestra gets real and goes beyond the virtual world with the help of Michael Tilson Thomas, one of the great conductors and teachers of classical music…

At the latest manifestation of Alexey Steele’s Classical Underground series on November 9, the audience was treated to a special performance by Rex Lewis. Rex was born blind and with severe brain damage, but despite his inability to perform simple tasks like tying a shoelace, when playing, he’s completely focused. Music is his world, and saying that he plays the piano beautifully is only a small part of the story – he only needs to hear a piece once to be able to play it back verbatim from memory.

Along with Brahms’ Waltz Medly Opus 39 and Chopin’s Fantasie Impromptu, he even played an improvisation off of a Chopin Nocturne. His mother Cathleen Lewis has written a book about their life of music and struggles together, titled “Rex.” Proceeds from the book help pay for Rex’s piano and voice lessons (yes, he apparently also sings well too!) [Buy "Rex" on Amazon] Rex is easily able to do what we all struggle to do as artists (and, I would imagine, musicians) – focus. As soon as he sits down on the bench, other distractions are tuned out.

Here is the story and video of Rex featured on 60 Minutes in 2006.

Alexey Steele and Classical Underground featured in the Los Angeles Times, August 2009.