Tone Poem Tuesday

One of Leonard Bernstein’s main self-appointed missions in life was the advancement of new American music. As comfortable as he was in the orchestral repertoire all the way back to Mozart, Bernstein saw it as his duty to stand up for modern music as well, and particularly modern American music at that. He felt strongly that it was essential for American concert music to move beyond the rigidity of the forms already over a century old that sprang largely from the Germanic symphonic approach, and that American music was, in terms of a nationalistic school, actually in its infancy, roughly on par with where that old Germanic tradition had been not at the end of the 19th century, but at the end of the 18th.

One composer Bernstein championed was William Schuman, an academic and arts administrator who was overwhelmed as a young man by a Toscanini-led concert of the New York Philharmonic; at that concert he decided to be a composer. Over his long life (1910-1992), Schuman generated a large body of work, much of which is highly-regarded.

This piece, the American Festival Overture, was written for a Boston Symphony Orchestra concert of American music led in 1939 by Serge Koussevitzky. Bernstein would later lead this work frequently, and include it in recordings, such as this by the Los Angeles Philharmonic. (The performance of Copland’s Appalachian Spring from this same album is simply the best recording of that wonderful piece I’ve ever heard.)

Of this piece, Schuman himself wrote:

“The first three notes of this piece will be recognized some listeners as the “call to play” of boyhood days. In New York City it is yelled on the syllables “Wee-Awk-Eee” to get the gang together for a game or festive occasion of some sort. This call very naturally suggested itself for a piece of music being composed for a very festive occasion. From this it should not be inferred that the Overture is program music. In fact, the idea for the music came to mind before the origin of the theme was recalled. The development of this bit of “folk material” then, is along purely musical lines.

“The first section of the work is concerned with the material discussed above and the ideas growing out of it. This music leads to a transition section and the subsequent announcement by the violas of a Fugue subject. The entire middle section is given over to this Fugue. The orchestration is at first for strings alone, later for woodwinds alone and finally, as the Fugue is brought to fruition, by the strings and woodwinds in combination. This climax leads to the final section of the work, which consists of opening materials paraphrased and the introduction of new subsidiary ideas. The tempo of the work, save the last measure, is fast.”

(from WiseMusicClassical)

Here is the American Festival Overture by William Schuman, with Leonard Bernstein conducting the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.

Share This Post

Something for Thursday

CCR:

Here’s what I don’t understand about this song: “It was down in Louisiana, just about a mile from Texarakana.” Huh? According to what I’ve found on Google, Texarkana is roughly 35 miles away from the Louisiana state line. (Although things get weird if you phrase the search wrong, because there is actually a State Line, Louisiana, which is all the way on the other side of the state, so it’s something like 300 miles from Texarkana.)

Still, this is a great song. It’s CCR, after all.

Share This Post

Tone Poem Tuesday

Reinhold Gliere was a Russian composer who lived long enough to stop being a Russian composer and become a Soviet one. He was born in 1875 and lived to 1956, almost exactly contemporary with Joseph Stalin. As the last living exemplar of nationalist Russian classical music, Gliere was able to avoid the various artistic purges and seemingly random shifts in taste handed down by Stalin.

Gliere is, admittedly, not always my cup of tea. Some years ago the Buffalo Philharmonic performed his Third Symphony, a gigantic work purporting to tell the life of a particular Russian hero (“Ilya Muromets”), a work that apparently has its devotees. I couldn’t get through the whole thing. Gliere and I are not on the same page, apparently…but I do like this particular orchestral poem quite a bit. Called The Sirens, it seems to me to have very little Russian character at all; to me this is much more the sound world of French impressionism. I hear, in this piece, not the echoes of the Tchaikovsky’s and the Balakirevs and the Borodins of the world, but rather the Debussys and the Ravels. The work shimmers and seems at times to be approaching a melody without quite getting there, in what must be a simulation of what the sailors heard in those voices luring them off their ships.

Share This Post

Tone Poem Tuesday

Sometimes it’s interesting to compare performances by the same conductor, but separated by decades. Here we have Leonard Bernstein conducting his own Overture to Candide, which is likely the most enduring of his own works. The first performance is from one of the Young People’s Concerts he did in 1960 with the New York Philharmonic, while the second performance is with the London Symphony Orchestra in late 1989, less than a year before Bernstein died. These kinds of comparisons allow a peek into the development of an artist’s mind from different vantage points of their careers. Which do you prefer?

Share This Post

Tone Poem Tuesday (Farewell, Seiji Ozawa)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9zYbwDqZUs

Maestro Seiji Ozawa died last week, aged 88.

Ozawa was best known for his long tenure as music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, all twenty-nine years of that tenure–the longest of any of that great orchestra’s many amazing conductors.

In addition to his direct music-making, Ozawa was always deeply invested in teaching young musicians and young conductors. Here is a clip in which he steps in to correct a young conducting student on a matter of technique: “I try to understand you. I don’t do this…[conducts with a vague circular motion of the hand]…that’s like, ‘eighteen minutes, cook the spaghetti.'”

Here is how the Boston Symphony marked his passing:

And here he is, not too many years ago, looking perhaps a bit frail…but still able to bring the goods when Beethoven is on the program.

Thank you for all the music, Seiji Ozawa! You made the world better.

Share This Post

Something for Thursday: Happy Birthday, John Williams!

John Williams turns 92 today…and he’s still working.

In his honor, let’s listen to some of his work!

Williams won a Grammy just the other night for this: “Helena’s Theme” from Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. It’s a typically gorgeous theme that manages to evoke Marion’s Theme from all the way back in Raiders of the Lost Ark without echoing it or quoting it.

Here’s something that vexed film music fans for years: the unavailability of the End Credits music that actually was heard in the film of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The suite that appeared on the album was nice enough, but the film version is longer, quoting several of the movie’s themes as the last scene in the Indian village plays out. And when we finally go to credits and the Raiders March fires up, it actually fades out in the repeat (at the 3:32 mark) so that we can here a brief quote of Short Round’s Theme. Williams’s ability to put seemingly disparate themes together into an actually cohesive whole is always amazing.

Going back even farther, here’s one of Williams’s earliest contributions to film music: his score to the law-school drama The Paper Chase. Yes, it sounds a bit dated, but you can absolutely hear the fingerprints of the Williams-to-come in this cue, the End Credits suite from that movie:

It’s the lot of most film composers to have to turn in really good work for movies that…aren’t. Hook is, for me, one of the few misfires in Steven Spielberg’s output; it fell in that weird late 80s-early 90s era when Spielberg hadn’t really transitioned into the finer drama work that was to come, but you could tell that his heart wasn’t entirely in the magic-and-fantasy flicks he was still doing. But along comes Williams with this amazing score, and this almost perfect tone-poem-in-miniature:

When Williams’s score to 2002’s Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones arrived, a lot of people were a bit befuddled by that score’s mix of darkness and lyrical love music. One person quipped on some message board or someplace, “It sounds like Nixon on a date.” That was pretty funny, but it seemed to highlight the fact that Williams’s score to Oliver Stone’s Nixon has never been particularly beloved. And that interests me, because I have always found it one of his most fascinating scores. He brings just the right blend of paranoid darkness and throwback Americana to Stone’s film (which I consider a masterpiece). Nixon has some of Williams’s most powerful and most overlooked music.

I do have to make an admission: I’m not always a big fan of Williams when he is scoring comedies or really light movies. For whatever reason, I always feel better when there’s a tinge of darkness in Williams’s music. (I can live quite happily without hearing Home Alone again, to be honest.) But in this wonderful march for Spielberg’s early big-budget misfire 1941, you can tell that John Williams has his tongue firmly planted in his cheek. This is absolutely delightful.

I’ve never seen Seven Years in Tibet. I couldn’t even tell you right now what it’s about without Googling it, other than…a guy is in Tibet for seven years. But I love this theme:

Finally–and I’m only ending this here because let’s be honest, I could go on a lot longer about John Williams and how much he’s meant to me and to my creative life throughout my years, but I actually have to eat dinner tonight–here’s a suite of another of what seems to me an underrated score, which is all the more surprising to me because every time I listen to it, I’m dazzled anew by how new this sounds, even for a throwback score. It’s Catch Me If You Can.

Thank you for the music, Maestro Williams! 

Share This Post

Tone Poem Tuesday

Ugh! I don’t know why this didn’t publish. I could swear I clicked the right thing on here. Anyway, this should have run the day before yesterday. Admittedly, this is one of my “Fallbacks because I’ve been having a busy week” kind of Tone Poem Tuesdays, but the thing should have at least gone live on the site! Here’s the post, as originally written:

Busy! So, here’s Rossini.

 

Share This Post

Something for Thursday

Phil Collins turned 73 the other day.

Collins no longer performs due to age and health reasons, which is very sad…but there was a time when he was ubiquitous to a staggering degree. From the mid-80s to around 2000 or so, you couldn’t get away from the guy. In fact, I actually OD’d on Phil Collins during my college years, which is a shame but also a blessing in disguise, because in recent years I’ve been lucky enough to gradually rediscover him. In his prime he really was an electrifying musician.

Here are a few Phil favorites. This isn’t even close to all of his music that I love, and I’m limiting myself here to just his solo work. I’ve had a long-form essay in my head about the Genesis album Invisible Touch for a few years now….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkGg1bzfSys
(This was my first-ever Phil Collins song. I remember listening to it via MTV and thinking, “Wow, who’s this guy?”)
(Of all the great Phil Collins ballads, this one might be my favorite. From the movie White Nights, this duet–featuring a singer named Marilyn Martin who had a brief career in the 80s, this song is everything an 80s power ballad should be.)

By the way, I should admit that the one Phil Collins song that seems to get the most airplay these days, “In the Air Tonight”, has never been one of my favorites. That’s just how it goes. It always amazes me, though, that Collins could do gentle love songs, emotion-dripping power ballads, fast-paced dance bangers, and then he also did this genre of what I call “noir rock”, very dark and almost harsh songs that showed up in the soundtracks of Miami Vice and the noir-tinged episodes of Magnum PI.

Share This Post

Tone Poem Tuesday (PDQ Bach edition)

Peter Schickele died on January 16 of this year. He was a composer and a comedian who was best known as the self-styled musicologist responsible for “unearthing” the music of “P.D.Q. Bach”, the “21st of J.S. Bach’s 20 children”. Over the years, Schickele crafted an entire life history of his fictional composer, and used “PDQ Bach”‘s work as a springboard to lampoon much of classical music. I have to admit that I have heard very little of Schickele/Bach, but what I have heard has always amused me. It takes a very good musician to do pastiche at this level, after all.

Schickele’s work along these lines was quite prolific, and he leaves behind an impressive catalog of musical works and albums that won several Grammys for Best Comedy Album. Often his work rewards knowledge of classical music, like this work here, which teases throughout with familiarity before going in completely different, frustratingly hilarious directions. Here is the 1712 Overture by Peter Schickele/PDQ Bach.

Share This Post