Here’s insight on what I do all day. I recently had to plan a mock recital for a class, and provide accompanying program notes. Classical music may not be your thing, but try educating yourself on something outside your realm of interest. Click on the text to enlarge.

So, how do you sum up the career of an artist? This collection of 8 CDs begins with Argerich’s career as a teen and concludes with recordings in her 40s.

To truly get a feel for this set, I think you’d have to listen to it several times, but on this first pass through, here are my general impressions.

Gifted as she was as a teen, I like her later works better. Argerich’s early works are brilliant technically but over the years she adds on layers of depth.

Also, my overall impression this first time through is that her strengths seem to lie in Chopin and Liszt.

Here’s a disc-by-disc replay:

Disc 1: From her early years. Excellent technically, but I’m not feeling the emotional commitment yet. Best tracks: Track 5 with Maurice Ravel’s Jeux d’eau and Track 6 with Chopin’s Barcarolle in F# major, op. 60.

Disc 2: This disc is all Chopin. Best track: Track 5 with the Polonaise-Fantasie in A flat major, op. 61.

Disc 3: This disc has Liszt’s Piano Sonata in B minor and Schuman’s Piano Sonata No. 2. Well played, but again I’m still not feeling the emotional commitment.

Disc 4: This disc is an all-Chopin album performed by Argerich in her 30s. This was my favorite. The third movement in the Piano Sonata No. 2 is the Marche funebre, the famous funeral march that you’ll hear quoted on lots of TV shows (including Bugs Bunny), but it is surprisingly moving when you hear it in its entirety. It’s incredibly moving.

Disc 5: this is the Ravel album. Best tracks: Track 1 with Argerich’s performance of Ondine in Gaspard de la nuit. Her precise performance (as opposed to a more Chopinesque rendering) makes the harmonies pop. Also Track 13, the 7th movement of Valses nobles et sentimentales is a very good.

Disc 6: Another all-Chopin album, all preludes. This was another excellent disc, and I listened to it a few times, which is saying a lot since I rarely listen to things twice. Prelude No. 15 (track 15) is exquisite.

Disc 7: Argerich surprised me with this one. I was beginning to think of her as a great Chopin interpreter, but this album is all Bach. Different but definitely something I could listen to again. Her Toccata in C minor (track 1) starts out a little Chopinesque but ends in a lovely counterpoint, very precise but charming.

Disc 8: By this album, Argerich is in her 40s. This album is all-Schumann with a very sensitive rendering of the Kinderszenen and an intense version of Kreisleriana (best tracks are 16, 20, 21 or movements 3, 7, 8).

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.

Elle est garçon, elle est artiste, elle est grande, généreuse, chaste, elle a les grands traits d’un homme

lettre à Mme  Hanska

Honoré de Balzac décrit ainsi George Sand dans une lettre à Mme Hanska, sa future femme. Souvent il a eu tendance à mentir à cette femme, sur sa relation avec l’écrivaine berrichonne (relation qui reste chaste et toute intellectuelle), à raccourcir son séjour à Nohant, à désenjoliver la seconde (Sand) afin d’éviter la jalousie de la première (Mme Hanska). Garçon et généreuse paraissent être ici les traits les plus véridiques. Ce qui est amusant c’est que plus tard, c’est Mme Hanska qui rendra Balzac jaloux en fréquentant une relation de George Sand, en fréquentant  Franz Liszt à Saint-Petersbourg (alors que le pianiste (surnommé parfois Monsieur Lits) écrit une lettre disons pressante à Mme Hanska) Quant à Sand de Balzac ; elle juge son ami  puéril et puissant, […] sincère jusqu’à la modestie, vantard jusqu’à la hâblerie, […], très expansif, très bon, très fou.

Sur les relations entre Balzac et Sand : cette pleine page Facebook : Mon cher George

Franz Liszt

Piano Concerto No. 2 in A major, S. 125
I. Adagio sostenuto assai – Allegro agitato assai
II. Allegro moderato
III. Allegro deciso – Marziale un poco meno allegro
IV. Allegro animato

Sviatoslav Richter (Piano); London Symphony Orchestra; Kirill Kondrashin (Conductor)

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Ferenc Liszt

Franz Liszt (Ferenc Liszt, en húngaro) (Raiding, Hungría, Imperio Austríaco, 22 de octubre de 1811 – Bayreuth, Baviera, 31 de julio de 1886) fue un pianista y compositor húngaro romántico.

Liszt fue el creador del poema sinfónico, según comenta Pedro Luis Martín Olivares, forma típica del romanticismo, y de la moderna técnica de interpretación pianística. Es autor de una importante obra para piano (rapsodias húngaras, estudios, preludios, etc.), de tres conciertos para piano y orquesta y también de una extensa obra orquestal.

Liszt comenzó su formación pianística a manos de su padre Adám, a la edad de 6 años. Adám se dio rápidamente cuenta del talento de su hijo y consiguió fondos de la nobleza para la educación del joven prodigio en Viena a manos de Karl Czerny, díscipulo de Beethoven y estudió composición con Antonio Salieri. Señala Pedro Luis Martín que Adám había intentado previamente que Hummel fuese profesor de Ferenc pero los honorarios de éste eran demasiado para la familia Liszt. Czerny aceptó dar a Liszt clases gratuitas de forma diaria.

En 1823 se traslada a París y al acudir al conservatorio de la ciudad es rechazado por el director del centro, Luigi Cherubini, por la norma que él mismo había instaurado y que sólo permitía estudiar en el conservatorio de París a ciudadanos franceses (siendo él italiano). Este hecho en opinión de Pedro Luis Martín Olivares, provocó que Liszt y muchos otros no pudiesen entrar en el conservatorio y con él tiempo influenció en la debilitación de París como núcleo musical romántico trasladándose éste hacia Alemania.

1811 – Composer Franz Liszt was born.
1832 – Founder of the New York Philharmonic, Leopold Damrosch, was born in Russia.
1883 – The Metropolitan Opera House held its grand opening in New York.
1917 – Leopold Stokowski led the Philadelphia Orchestra in its first recording session.
1965 – “Get Off My Cloud” was released in the U.K. by the Rolling Stones.
1966 – The Beach Boys released the single “Good Vibrations.”
1974 – “Hotter Than Hell was released by KISS.
1983 – New York’s Metropolitan Opera celebrated its 100th anniversary.

          Ah, now here’s a woman.  The mistress of the composer, Franz Liszt, Marie d’Agoult, wrote under the pen name Daniel Stern, a roman a clef, in French it means ‘a novel with a key’, called Nelida.  A roman a clef is a novel in which the characters and events of the story represent actual people and events, though often exaggerated.  Marie wrote about her life with Franz, which was tainted with numerous infidelities on his part.  Franz was quite a looker in the day, a real Musical “Idol” much like what we have today.  He had his female fans to cope with I’m sure.  Marie bore him two children before finally leaving him.
            Her book has been translated from the French by Lynn Hoggard.  The name “Nelida” is an anagram of “Daniel.”  Bernadette Peters played Marie in the film, Impromptu.

I keep finding these brilliant pieces Liszt has composed! It’s incredible. First it was his Sonata in B minor, S. 178. Then it was Liebeslied S. 566. Which phased into an obsession with La Campanella. And now, it’s Gnomenreigen. Translated from German, that means “Gnome Round Dance.” And it is the most darling piece ever. Possibly one of the happiest pieces, aside from Mozart’s, that I’ve heard. It sounds simple (like everything else Liszt composes), but you should see the score. It’s incredible. There are millions of notes, and the tempo is a bullet. Goodness! A tempo marking is Vivacissimo. It sounds like vivacississississississimo.

I know many compare Liszt to his contemporary, Chopin, and say that Liszt is more technical while Chopin is more lyrical. And I’m not going to say that’s wrong. But no one has the right to dismiss the genius of Liszt as they celebrate that of Chopin. I don’t know what it is, but Liszt just appeals to me more. He is, after all, my favorite composer.

I’m considering this piece as one of my next ones for Merit Scholarship… but I need a slow piece, if I want to go for the grand prize in January. Any suggestions? (I will shoot you if you say Für Elise or Moonlight, I refuse to perform something I could just as easily sight read. Give me something that will amuse my brain, because the noggin has been so bored for the past, I don’t know, week.)

Mayerling may not  be for everyone, but it is an undeniable example of how ballet can go beyond technical prowess or fairy-tale narrative, geometrical patterns or musical convention. Kenneth MacMillan’s work reaches for the core of human emotions, both the good and the bad, digging deep into the grittiest, the most horrific and perverse of human psyche to turn it into ballet, an art form usually associated with qualities of beauty and harmony. Unsuspecting audiences may be distraught by his choreography, by such an explicit portrayal of the perverse and sinister within men against the various forms of love.

Beyond its lavish designs and opulent costumes which aid in framing a decadent society and its excesses, the ballet largely depends on a strong lead, as its focus is the character of Crown Prince Rudolf. The fact that no one knows what really happened in the event known as the Mayerling incident is not very important for the purpose of MacMillan’s ballet. I now see that the incident only served as a canvas on which he could draw his characters and frame their specific interrelations. Rudolf, a character so shrouded in mystery, presents to the  male dancer an opportunity to create a very individual reading. For this reason it demands mature dancers at the height of their dramatic and dancing powers, dancers who can generate a realistic impression, which is something Johan Kobborg excels at.

Mayerling Cast. From left clockwise. Leanne Benjamin as Mary Vetsera, Johan Kobborg as Crown Prince Rudolf, Laura Morera as Countess Larisch, Deirdre Chapman as Empress Elizabeth, Helen Crawford as Mitzi Caspar and José Martín as the lead Hungarian Officer. Source: ROH ©. Copyright belongs to its respective owners.

Presenting us with an innermost portrayal of Rudolf that heavily contrasted with all other readings of the character I’ve seen before, Kobborg emphasises the darkness his character carries inside, the willingness to carry through unimaginable deeds. Right from the start we see how he is afftected by the particular demands and pressures of his position as Crown Prince and by his incestuous relationship with a domineering mother. We also note Rudolf’s violent behaviour when in contact with Countess Larisch (a well cast Laura Morera) and his wife Princess Stephanie (Emma Maguire), but the way he quickly regains self-control hints at something inherent to Rudolf’s character which he tries to keep “in check”. The pas de deux with Empress Elizabeth (Deirdre Chapman) clearly establishes the twisted relationship between mother and son and shows how Rudolf could be both abusing and abused. The weight of this encounter still looms over the following pas de deux as a twisted and psychopathic Rudolf threatens his wife Princess Stephanie with a pistol on their Wedding night.

Johan Kobborg as Crown Prince Rudolf in Mayerling. Photo: Bill Cooper / ROH © Source: Voice of Dance

Rudolf  has given into a life of “alcohol and whores at the tavern” but when it comes to his mother’s own love affair, he takes issue and reacts as an offended lover. As he dances a solo which speaks of the guilt for those feelings towards his mother, he struggles to keep his inner demons at bay, his steps conveying despair and even horror at his own feelings as Countess Larisch tries to comfort him. It is at this point that Mary Vetsera enters the picture and raises the stakes.  Few can project all of Mary’s complexities like Leanne Benjamin. Her Vetsera is a joyous girl destroyed by the romantic obsession she builds once fuelled by Larisch’s stories about Rudolf. From their first meeting we see someone who is capable of loving him, albeit in a twisted, sick way. Kobborg’s Rudolf sees Mary as just another woman at first, but once she rushes for his gun and points it towards him, his dark side resurfaces  and obsessive feelings surge towards her. Needless to say, both Kobborg and Benjamin delivered a pas de deux full of passion playing with the concept of control and role reversal between these two twisted minds.

By the final act, following an accidental killing at his hunting lodge, Kobborg’s Rudolf is a shattered, broken man who is a shadow of himself and now allows the darkness inside to flow, his body ravaged by mental and physical disease. Since the script simply indicates that Mary and Rudolf made a pact to end their lives, what really happens between them greatly varies with each interpretation. In this reading it seemed to me that as Mary arrives at the hunting lodge she realises that the only way to heal Rudolf is to die with him, while for Rudolf killing her is both an act of selfishness and of salvation from his inner feelings towards her. As they dance a deeply upsetting final pas de deux our minds question whether this disturbed and horrible person could really have had any capacity to love.

With great performances, despite a few start of season glitches, from a  strong supporting cast including Laura Morera as Countess Larisch, Helen Crawford as Mitzi Caspar and José Martín as the lead Hungarian officer much added to the evening’s drama, but all in all, Mayerling will always be about the lead and here Kobborg more than delivered.

See also: our take on the Edward Watson/Mara Galeazzi cast

The Royal Ballet’s Mayerling is in repertoire until November 10. Book via the ROH website, by telephone or by visiting the Box Office.

Arriving at Covent Garden last night and glancing at my Mayerling cast sheet I wondered if the audience – mostly non-ballet-regulars thanks to a promotion ran by The Sun newspaper – had any idea of their lucky draw with this particular cast: principals Laura Morera as Mitzi Caspar and Steven McRae as Bratfisch, soloists Sergei Polunin and Thomas Whitehead as 2 of the Hungarian separatists, Cindy Jourdain as Rudolf’s mother Empress Elisabeth (aka Sissi), a very talented field team to support a luxury leading cast: Edward “born to play Crown prince Rudolf” Watson, Mara Galeazzi as his Mary Vetsera and the much missed Sarah Lamb, back after one year absence, as his older lover Countess Larisch.

Mayerling Cast, from left clockwise: Mara Galeazzi as Mary Vetsera, Edward Watson as Crown Prince Rudolf, Sarah Lamb as Countess Larisch, Sergei Polunin as Hungarian Officer, Steven McRae as Bratfisch and Laura Morera as Mitzi Caspar. Source: ROH ©. Copyright belongs to its respective owners.

Whether this hot cast was already known to few or many, I think we all soon understood how special this performance was going to be. All that has been said in the press, rather more eloquently, of Watson’s Rudolf a couple of years ago is true: his “unfurling line” is better than ever. So is the “ability to turn his distinctive appearance to dramatic advantage. But what particularly impresses me is how he is able to remain so naturalistic, so effortlessly at home in a role which is said to be so demanding, the Mount Everest of male dancing. Watson turns MacMillan’s choreography inside out, he inhabits it so completely that by the time he loses his head and his lover in Act 3 he does not seem to be executing steps anymore, he is entirely possessed by dance, and thus by obsession and madness. His approach to the role is a crescendo of faster turns and high extensions combined with signs of agitation, of symptom, in every gesture.  Every step links into a continuous whirlwind of emotion.

Although Crown Prince Rudolf is frequently onstage and frequently dancing it is interesting to observe how MacMillan envisaged a character who does not “dance with the music”. This is blatant when you compare Rudolf against the dancers in the Tavern or his private entertainer Bratfisch. The latter are stereotypes, the “ballet within the ballet”, whereas Rudolf, except for the scenes where he joins in the group dances, is always a dissonant voice, an unconventional mover. Mayerling is not about the sequence of bravura steps which are characteristic of male classical roles, but more about how the protagonist, through scattered solos and a series of pas de deux with his many women, conveys his diseased view of the world, another of MacMillan’s ground breaking choreographic visions.

Edward Watson and Mara Galeazzi in Sir Kenneth MacMillan's Mayerling Photo: Johan Persson / ROH © Source: Danser en France

But even though MacMillan crafted steps that speak more than actions, he also stayed rooted in theatrical tradition, demanding from his lead strong dramatic skills. When Watson is not dancing we see Rudolf’s neurotic mind constantly questioning his surroundings, observant, clearly setting his own agenda. In Act 2 for instance, the family gathers to hear a lieder sung by the Emperor’s lover, the actress Katherina Schratt, a song (“Ich Leide”, by Liszt) which speaks of farewells, of someone who is leaving. As Rudolf stands at a safe distance from everyone else, we see he is listening carefully, that he is soaking up those words to fuel his dark intentions.

With Watson’s line becoming progressively more extreme – I have never seen him using his extensions in a classical piece so liberally – we see the edges this Crown Prince is willing to go over to rid himself of this world. He carries the weight of the distant relationship with his mother, unleashes his Oedipean frustrations on his wife and on his old lover Countess Larisch, but in the encounters with young lover Mary Vetsera we see the dance become more weightless, almost like a brief release from pressure. Here Watson throws all caution to the wind, so full of complicity in his last “crazy-love” pas de deux with Mara Galeazzi’s fluid Vetsera that you think for just one moment this Rudolf might not go ahead with the initial suicide plan. But we know how it all ends: not happily.

It was a fantastic, intense start for the ballet season. Although there are always first night jitters and some fine tuning as performances progress, the company seemed on great form back from their break and probably pleased with the big cheer they got from a very appreciative crowd. With this amazing cast and such a compelling piece we hope the new audience left enthused and ready to come back for more. It certainly sounded like it.

The Royal Ballet’s Mayerling is in repertoire until November 10. Book via the ROH website, by telephone or by visiting the Box Office.

Muy cerca de la famosa puerta de Alcalá y de la fuente de Las Cibeles, sobre Paseo del Prado se encuentra este museo que exhibe más de 700 obras del siglo XX; con obras de arte gótico de Duccio y Jan Van Eyck hasta el pop art y los años 80 de Tom Wesselmann y Lucian Freíd. Este edificio fue construido entre finales del siglo XVIII y los inicios del siglo XIX, fue una de las mansiones más prestigiosas de la ciudad, conocida por sus fiestas y veladas artísticas. En ella tocó el piano Franz Liszt. Todo el edificio es un bello monumento arquitectónico el cual uno puede admirar en diferentes ángulos y tomar buenas fotografías. Cerca este sitio uno pude tomar un descanso, beber una coca de 3.00 euros mientras admiras los bellos prados que forman este triángulo del arte: www.museothyssen.org

Detrás de esta persona se esconde quizás el mejor pianista de nuestra generación. Un hombre de enorme sensibilidad y de espectacular técnica, probablemente una de las mejores de la historia del piano. ¿Desean escucharlo? Pues aquí tienen 46 discos en mp3 de muy buena calidad cortesía de Pinky. Disfruten.

http://pinkysmusic.toypark.in/cdartist/hamelin.php

O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst,
O lieb, so lang du lieben magst,
Die Stunde kommt, die Stunde kommt,
Wo du an Gräbern stehst und klagst!

Und sorge, daß dein Herze glüht
Und Liebe hegt und Liebe trägt,
So lang ihm noch ein anderes Herz
In Liebe warm entgegenschlägt.

Und wer dir seine Brust erschließt,
O tu ihm, was du kannst, zulieb,
Und mach ihm jede Stunde froh,
Und mach ihm keine Stunde trüb.

Und hüte deine Zunge wohl,
Bald ist ein böses Wort gesagt;
O Gott, es war nicht bös gemeint,
Der andre aber geht und klagt.

O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst,
O lieb, so lang du lieben magst,
Die Stunde kommt, die Stunde kommt,
Wo du an Gräbern stehst und klagst!

(Ferdinand Freiligrath, gefunden im Briefsteller für Liebende, dort ohne Quellenangabe)

edit: mittlerweile habe ich herausgefunden, dass dieses gedicht noch im selben jahr, nämlich 1847, von franz liszt vertont wurde. und auch das gefällt mir:

und zum hören für nicht klassik- aber klassikerbegeisterte: marlene dietrich und maximilian schell zitieren das gedicht im dokumentarfilm “marlene” aus dem jahr 1984:

Bueno, por invitación de mi gran amigo y colega Zimmerman estoy participando en la producción de este blog. Cumpliendo con este nuevo compromiso, haré un breve comentario a propósito de la presentación a la que asistí el jueves en el Teatro Segura: La Traviata. Una de las óperas más famosas de G. Verdi y que junto con Rigoleto e Il Trovatore, forman parte de la trilogía de este maestro italiano. Como es sabido La Traviata es la adaptación que realizó Francesco Maria Piave de la novela francesa La dame aux camélias de Alexandre Dumas fils.

Publicidad del estreno de La Traviata en La Fenice, 6 de marzo de 1853.

Dumas escribió esta novela tomando la inspiración del romance que vivió con Marie Duplessis, una de las más celebres integrantes del demimonde y, sin duda alguna, de las mujeres más deseadas por la aristocracia libertina del Paris de mediados del siglo XIX (gran tipo, Alexander). Duplessis, aunque sometida por las tentaciones del hedonismo parisino al que estaba entregada (cómo no comprenderla?), disfrutó por un corto periodo del amor de Dumas. En la ficción, en La dame aux camélias, Marguerite Gautier, nombre elegido por Dumas para Marie Duplessis, se muda al campo con su amado para disfrutar de una vida apacible lejos de la ciudad. Sin embargo, el romance no dura mucho, pues la presión social impide que ocurra y finalmente la relación concluye trágicamente. En la vida real, también Duplessis no puede huir de su pasado y el periodo con Dumas no resulta ser más que un episodio. Algún tiempo después, tras una breve aventura con el genial Franz  Liszt (quien, según David Coward, de ella dijo: ‘She was the most absolute incarnation of Woman who has ever existed’), se casa en Londres con el conde de Perregaux. Un año más tarde, en 1847, fallece a causa de la tuberculosis. Después de enterarse de la muerte de Duplessis, Dumas emprende la creación de La dame aux camélias.

Verdi, a su vez, en La Traviata inmortaliza a esta demimondaine, a esta traviata o extraviada. Aquí no nos topamos ni con Duplessis ni con Gautier, sino con Violeta Valery.  En La Traviata, al igual que a Duplessis y a Gutier, a Valery la tranquilidad le dura muy poco: al corto tiempo de que se aleja del desenfreno parisino y huye al campo con Alfredo Germont, su amante, se ve obligada a separarse de él y a retornar a la ciudad. El responsable de esto es Giorgio Germont, el padre de Alfredo, quien no puede soportar la deshonra pública que implica el hecho de que un Germont viva con una cortesana. Por ello persuade a Velery de que se aleje de Alfredo y regrese a la ciudad. Esta es la escena I del acto II en La Traviata y la interpretación del barítono Giuseppe Altomare, como  el padre atribulado, fue de lo mejor de la puesta del jueves en el Segura. No puedo decir lo mismo de Carlos Duarte, como Alfredo Germont, e Ina Kancheva, como Violeta Valery;  pero, a fin de cuentas, fue una buena noche.

Mmm…. por otro lado y pensándolo bien, concluyo en que: ¿cómo no envidiar a los que llegaron a ver a María Callas, como Violeta Valery, y a Alfredo Kraus, como Alfredo Germont; en La Traviata del Teatro San Carlo de Lisboa en 1958?

Aunque la calidad del video no es muy buena, aquí están ellos:

I found a little essay about Franz Liszt in a book I chose rather impulsively from the racks of a used-bookstore hereabouts, and I want to mention it because it’s a contemporary memory of the great Hungarian and sometimes such memories get overlooked, especially if the memoirist isn’t a member of the famous person’s circle.

This memory comes from an essay by Ford Madox Ford, excerpted from his 1911 book Memories and Impressions, apparently, and contained in a beautiful little Bodley Head volume published in 1962.

Ford was taken to a concert when he was young and saw Liszt, which could only have been in 1886, the year the composer died, since he hadn’t visited England since 1841. Ford writes of seeing him come on stage in the company of “the late King and the present Queen Mother,” which, since he’s writing in 1911, would mean the future King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra.

He tells a funny story about how Liszt took his seat from him temporarily as he tried to dodge having to sit on the stage; Alexandra pulled the old pianist out of the seat and sat there herself, and installed Ford on her knee, which he calls “a gracious act.”

A few days later Ford was taken to see Liszt again at a house where he was staying, and arrived to find everyone entreating a reluctant Liszt, who at this time was 74 and ailing, to play. He refused, but then his eyes light upon Ford:

‘Little boy, I will play for you, so that you will be able to tell your children’s children that you have heard Liszt play.’

And he played the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata. I do not remember much of his playing, but I remember very well that I was looking, while Liszt played, at a stalwart, florid Englishman who is now an earl. And suddenly I perceived that tears were rolling down his cheeks. And soon all the room was in tears. It struck me as odd that people should cry because Liszt was playing the Moonlight Sonata.

I like the immediacy of that anecdote, and that Liszt can be seen in it behaving just the venerable celebrity he was. He was well aware of the breadth of his fame, and he found the youngest person in the room to extend that fame into generations unborn.

It adds some humanity to what we know about Liszt, and it reminds my inner librarian to check out Alan Walker’s big bio of the composer, which came out around 1996. I wouldn’t be surprised to see another commemorative volume of some sort for the Liszt bicentenary in 2011.

It also makes me want to check out more of his music, not all of which I care for. I don’t like either of the piano concerti, or the Tasso or Les Preludes tone poems, and I’m not enamored of the B minor Sonata, either. But I do like the Totentanz, and the Weinen, Klagen variations, and much of the Annees de Pelerinage. What I would really like to study is the late piano works (Nuages gris, for instance), the art songs, and some of the religious music, such as Christus.

I’m of the same opinion as most experts on Liszt that I’ve read: There’s so much music there, and so much of it is unknown, that studying his writing is bound to be revelatory. It’s another example of the fact that a figure can loom as large as Liszt, for as long as he has, and the musical world at large can still know so little about his work and his life.

Before Beatlemania, there was Liztomania. Except instead of playing sappy pop diddies no one likes any more about insipid topics like holding hands, Franz Liszt shredded the shit out of the piano like only a 19th century virtuoso pianist who knew Beethoven can. Women went hysterical, screaming through his sets and fighting each other for his silk handkerchiefs. He became rich from touring, but gave most of his money to charities. It was probably easy for him because he was continuously shacking up with baronesses and princesses so he didn’t have to worry about money any more. Good. One less thing. Unfortunately, the Czar of Russia convinced the Pope not to let him marry Princess Carolyne of Poland, and then his son and daughter died, so he took up a solitary life in a monastery outside Rome and became, among other things, an exorcist. Later in life he was tired, sick, and depressed and his music showed this. But during the days of Lisztomania, when he composed Harmonies Poetiques et Religieuses, he made astounding, beautiful compositions with virtuostic technique that lead him to be considered the “most technically advanced and perhaps greatest pianist of all time.”

Feel The Shred

Don’t believe me about Lisztomania? There is a 1975 movie about it starring Roger Daltry as Liszt, Rick Wakeman as Thor, and Ringo Starr as the Pope.

FRANZ LISZT (1811-1886), Hungarian composer
Portrait: Wilhelm von Kaulbach

Andreas Roseneder    in  Jeffrey Swann´s world aquabrique & vinyl on canvas 2009

hommage aux Années de Pèlerinage de Franz Liszt

Imagine The Strokes as a clean and sleek band. Impossible, I know, but if that possibility existed I’m pretty convinced they would make an album like the one Phoenix just made, a perfect ensemble of ten masterful tracks that though focus on pretty much one theme are perfect for everyone, as evidenced by their two more vast references in the record, which are Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Franz Liszt. Those two were renowned musical composers a couple centuries ago, however they were extremely different, Mozart classical and Liszt a flamboyant extravagant. This album would appeal to people as different as those two, because, if you like good music, whether is classical or flamboyant, you’ll like this album.

They open a song about Listz, appropriately titled ‘Lisztomania’, about whom they found inspiration for their lyrics which seem to indicate some sort of creative struggle that works perfectly as the first beat that would keep this album’s tremendous heart beating for nine more songs.

I love it how their hooks are so commercial, and yet us indie-minded-folk still love the shit out of it, just listen to ‘Countdown’, Coldplay could’ve probably sang that song and it’d be a hit, however Phoenix aren’t as well-known yet and it’s not a huge single, and I’m thankful for that, everytime a song I like starts getting massive radio-play I get tired of it. And though I’d find it extremely hard to get tired of this song, or album for that matter, I don’t even want the possibility of that happening.

They’re one of the most non-superflous bands around, I say non-superflous to not say ’simple’ or ‘direct’, because they’re neither of those, they just know what they have and when it’s enough, even though they could have added an extra beat, or an extra bridge there they don’t stopping at the perfect amount of everything.

I quite like my aforementioned Strokes comparison, because it does have a Strokes-like sound burried in there, I think that’s quite obvious for everyone that listens, but it’s as though the Strokes had met Air (who, just like Daft Punk, are apparently friends of Phoenix) and created a unique sound, the most unique this band’s ever crafted since I’ve been onto them for about five years. “Do you remember when 21 years was old?” asks singer Thomas Mars, and he doesn’t say it as a band thing at all, in fact you quite enjoy it when he asks it, sure, they have grown up and they’re not the kids they used to be, but they’re better because of it.

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is the best kind of record I could have bought this year, riffs, lyrics and beats for everyone and their moms, but that for some reason it still feels exclusive to you. This is the bomb.

Grade: A+

As a Music Major, I’ve studied many composers, so it’s always fun to see a pop/rock band poke fun at the composers with puns.  Today’s Song of the Day, “Lisztomania” by French band, Phoenix, is a play on composer Franz Liszt’s name, and the album which this song comes from, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, comes from the obvious Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

With the release of this album, Phoenix is gaining popularity big time, and have sold out most of their American Tour.  Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix might be one of the best albums of the summer.