Tag: Tone Poem Tuesday

How about some film music today? And some John Williams?

Steven Spielberg’s Catch Me If You Can is one of his more underrated movies, it seems to me; it doesn’t come up in conversation all that much, but I think it’s just terrific. It tells the story of a young man named Frank Abagnale (Leonardo DiCaprio) who discovers that he has a gift for larceny and for making people believe whatever he’s telling them. Frank uses this to escape a home life that he thought was normal but is now realizing is very toxic, and as he makes his way through life cashing fake checks and passing himself off as an airline pilot and a lawyer and a doctor, he inevitably attracts the attention of a particularly focused FBI agent named Carl Hanratty (Tom Hanks). The cat-and-mouse game between Frank and Carl unfolds throughout the movie, and quite brilliantly the movie develops the theme that these two men somehow become dependent on one another. In the end (spoilers, I guess, but the movie’s 18 years old and it’s based on true events, anyway–Frank Abagnale is a very real former thief and con-man who has since made millions as a security consultant), Carl captures Frank and then brings him on board his own team at the FBI.

There’s a wonderful scene in the middle of the movie where, on Christmas night, Frank calls Carl on the phone. Frank is sitting alone in a hotel room somewhere, and Carl is sitting alone at his desk in a deserted FBI office. A somewhat pained conversation takes place; Frank wants to end the chase but he doesn’t want to get caught, either. He thinks he’s calling Carl to taunt him, but Carl is starting to know his man and has a moment of insight:

Carl: I’ll tell you what I am sure of: you’re gonna get caught. One way or another. It’s a mathematical fact. It’s like Vegas: the house always wins.

Frank: …Well, Carl, I’m sorry, but I-I have to go.

Carl You didn’t call just to apologize, did you?

Frank: What do you mean?

Carl: [laughing] You have no one else to call!

That’s a great moment. The relationship between Frank and Carl isn’t so simple as, say, Valjean and Javert. Both Frank and Carl see themselves as Valjean, and both see the other as Javert. It’s quite a brilliant relationship.

John Williams’s score for Catch Me If You Can is something of a departure for the great composer, who at this time was in his Harry Potter and the Star Wars prequel phase. Instead of an orchestral epic, Williams returned to his roots as a studio musician in the 50s and 60s, before he really emerged as a composer in the 70s. The score is full of 60s-sounding jazz, with frequent use of melodic percussion, finger snaps, and prominent work for solo saxophone. He writes two bouncy themes, one somewhat dark and one that’s incredibly fun, highlighting the dual sides of the film’s heist story. But he also leavens all this with some deeply introspective music that draws attention to the loneliness at the heart of each of the two men at the center of the story. The hunter and the hunted are both deeply unhappy, and both realize eventually that all they have is the hunt…until our cop, Carl, the more mature of the two men, realizes that they can work together on a different kind of hunt.

One more thing before the music: Catch Me If You Can has one of the best last scenes I know. Carl and Frank are sitting down, comparing notes over a newly-emerged check fraud case that has landed on Carl’s desk, and as they talk, the camera pulls away, across a bustling FBI field office. Frank gives the movie’s last line, which is fantastic:

FRANK: Now all we gotta do is catch him.

What a great movie.

Back to the music: this performance, which I just found a couple hours ago as I was writing, is a selection of cues from the film, performed by a student orchestra in Poland, almost as a Concerto for Saxophone and Orchestra. It’s an absolutely wonderful performance, and as I write these words, I’m listening to it for the third time today. Here is a suite from John Williams’s score to Catch Me If You Can.

Share This Post

Not so much a tone poem, but rather a concerto with tone poem-like qualities…and a concerto that is a multi-movement work and a collaboration between multiple composers. Whew! It’s the Yellow River Piano Concerto, arranged into a concerto from themes by composer Xian Xinghai for a work called Yellow River Cantata. The work’s history is interestingly messy and problematic, as it was none other than Chairman Mao’s wife, Jiang Qing, who ordered a collection of musicians to adapt the Cantata into the Concerto. The work was extremely popular in China initially, but then disappeared from concert halls in that country for many years until it started being heard again in the 1980s. The piece is in four movements, titled as follows: Prelude: The Song of the Yellow River Boatman, Ode to the Yellow River, The Wrath of the Yellow River, and Defend the Yellow River.

The work is brash and very eager to please, and it feels almost like a guided tour of cliches in East Asian music. But there’s something unquestioningly compelling about the piece, and it always makes for a vibrant and exciting listen, mostly because its melodies are so gorgeous, its orchestral writing is so good, and (this is key) it’s only twenty minutes or so long, so it never overstays its welcome. Here is the Yellow River Concerto.

Share This Post

Carl Maria von Weber is one of those composers who is better known to historians of music than to actual listeners of it, which always seems to me a pity. His work represents a crucial step in the development of German opera between the Classical era of Mozart and Beethoven and the full-blown Romanticism of Richard Wagner. Weber’s final work was an opera called Oberon, for which he worked himself sick (maybe even hastening his own death) to learn English so he could most effectively set the libretto, which was in that language. Oberon has never become an operatic standard the way Weber’s earlier masterpiece, Der Freischutz, did, although several excerpts from Oberon have become commonplace in the concert hall. According to David Dubal’s The Essential Canon of Classical Music, Oberon‘s fate is due to serious deficiencies in its libretto. I honestly have no idea if that’s the case or not, but I do know that plenty of operas see rare stagings because of libretto concerns: either the stories and plots are ridiculous, or the demands on the singers are too bizarre, or the staging demands are so outlandish as to be unfeasible. Quite a few operas exist in this weird nether-state, with wonderful scores written by great composers that sadly languish in obscurity because the non-musical aspects of the operas aren’t up to snuff. One wonders if the current trend to concert performances of operas might help to give some of these works a fresh hearing.

In the meantime, here is the wonderful overture to Oberon. Note its dreamy opening, with that slow horn-call melody, which gradually becomes a vigorous and adventurous piece. If I heard that at the beginning of an opera, I’d certainly be intrigued to hear more!

Share This Post

Yup, another really busy week…plus, Tuesday fell on The Wife’s birthday and I didn’t want to bury her post below Tone Poem Tuesday, so here we are.

Interesting piece today, in that there isn’t a single string or wind instrument in it. It’s a work for percussion only! Composer Julia Perry only lived fifty-five years, but apparently she was a very prolific composer, and her dedication was such that when a stroke robbed her of the use of her right hand, she taught herself to use her left in order to keep composing. Perry was hard-working and highly accomplished, winning not one but two Guggenheim fellowships to further her musical study. I’d never heard of her before Googling “Black classical composers,” and once again as I have throughout this exercise, I am led to wonder, “Why have I never heard of this person?”

“Homunculus C.F.” is a short piece for percussion ensemble. Perry wrote the work in 1960 while living in an apartment above her father’s medical office. She specifically winds the piece around the “Chord of the Fifteenth,” hence the initials in the title. The piece is modern and abstract and fresh, sounding almost like it had been improvised yesterday instead of being composed nearly sixty years ago.

Share This Post

You know how when I get hyper-focused on finishing a writing project, I push everything else aside and work only on that? Sure you do! I spent the bulk of this week’s leisure and writing time on finishing second-round edits on The Savior Worlds (The Song of Forgotten Stars, book 4), but I got that done last night, so at long last let’s turn to the music of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor.

Coleridge-Taylor was English by birth, and he was mixed race: his mother was a white Englishwoman, and his father was a Sierra Leone Creole physician. Coleridge-Taylor quickly achieved success as a musician and was one of the more popular composers of his day. Musicians in New York even referred to him as the “Black Mahler,” so successful was his brand of late Romanticism. Coleridge-Taylor’s most famous works are a trio of cantatas he composed based on Longfellow’s Song of Hiawatha, and the most successful of those was Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast, a work which would have made Coleridge-Taylor a very wealthy man had he not sold the rights for 15 guineas in a moment of financial need. Coleridge-Taylor was far from the only composer to make this mistake; Sergei Rachmaninov would have been extremely wealthy had he retained the rights to his Prelude in C-sharp minor. Alas, the artist must often be concerned with the here and now at the expense of the future, and financial distress may well have contributed to Coleridge-Taylor’s ill health that led to his early death when he was just 37.

A year after the trio of cantatas was complete, Coleridge-Taylor added an overture, which we hear today. It is a thrilling, brooding, and lyrical piece of late Romanticism, most reminiscent of Antonin Dvorak in its melodic feel and its enticing energy. Coleridge-Taylor, as an Englishman, was primarily influenced by the music coming from the continent and not from the early threads that would become jazz in America. He belongs to a tradition that was already shifting in new directions, and one wonders what he might have done had he lived to see the dawning of Modernism.

Here is the Hiawatha Overture by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor.

Share This Post

Continuing an exploration of work of black composers in this, Black History Month, I turn to William Grant Still, one of the best-known black composers. The difficulty black composers have faced in history can be illustrated in the fact that Still lived from 1895 to 1978, dying in my lifetime, and yet many of his works are already lost. Still was born in Arkansas, where his musical life began, but his life later took him to Ohio, New York (where he is considered part of the Harlem Renaissance), and finally to Los Angeles, where the house in which he lived is now designated a Los Angeles Historical Monument. Still was a prolific composer over his long life, and he achieved things in music that would be the pride of any composer, much less a black one from a country not historically known for rewarding the creative efforts of its minorities.

Still wrote his symphonic poem Africa in 1930, after he had spent his youth working in W.C. Handy’s band and studying composition with Edgar Varese. Still’s style combines African-American sounds–blues, spirituals–with traditional orchestral writing. Africa comprises a musical depiction of a continent to which Still never traveled, and he would describe the work as “the Africa of my imagination.” He even opens the piece with distant drums tapping an almost tribal rhythm before the more plaintive orchestral writing begins. Still described his work, which traces three movements, in a letter thusly:

“An American Negro has formed a concept of the land of his ancestors based largely on its folklore, and influenced by his contact with American civilization. He beholds in his mind’s eye not the Africa of reality but an Africa mirrored in fancy, and radiantly ideal.

I. He views it first as a land of peace; peace that is partly pastoral in nature and partly spiritual.

II. It is to him also a land of fanciful and mysterious romance; romance tinged with ineffable sorrow.

III. Contact with American civilization has not enabled him to completely overcome his inherent superstitious nature. It is that heritage of his forebears binding him irrevocably to the past, and making it possible for him to form the most definite concept of Africa.”

(via)

Africa is a lyrical and rhythmic work that seems to sway and dance with sound that recalls blues and spirituals, but in a more distant way, hinting at the ancestral home of the musical traditions that African-Americans would make central to their often sad experiences in America. It’s a fascinating piece.

Here is Africa by William Grant Still.

Share This Post

February is Black History Month, so each of this month’s regular music selections (Tone Poem Tuesday and Something for Thursday) will feature music either composed, or performed, or both, by black musicians.

George Walker (1922-2018) was the first black composer to win the Pulitzer Prize for music, for a work entitled Lilacs. Walker was a teacher, a composer, and a performer of note, and he had what was by all accounts a long and successful musical life before he died at the age of 96. This work is an exuberant bit of modern dance that he wrote on commission from the Las Vegas Symphony, in commemoration of that city’s centennial celebration. Hoopla: A Touch of Glee is a bright and bold orchestral showpiece that thrums with the odd optimism of Las Vegas, a city that has no reason to exist other than to be a place where the kinds of things that go on in Vegas…go on. I’ve been listening to this oddly infectious work for several days now, and it’s not easy to forget.

Here is Hoopla: A Touch of Glee by George Walker.

Share This Post

In his lifetime Hector Berlioz wrote three operas (four, if you count the “Dramatic legend” La Damnation de Faust, which is sometimes staged as an opera even though its long passages of purely orchestral music make such staging difficult). The first is rarely heard on the opera stages of the world today owing to its high degree of difficulty for the singers, but the opera isn’t completely forgotten, as its overture is frequently heard in concert halls. Benvenuto Cellini is based on the memoirs of the Renaissance sculptor of the same name. In addition to fine sculpture, Cellini left behind an autobiography that has been hailed as the finest autobiography ever written, and which represents one of the finest accounts of Renaissance Italy written by a contemporary. Berlioz had a deep love of all things literary, which informed all of his music, including the opera Benvenuto Cellini. Even though this opera failed (and only one of Berlioz’s three operas, Beatrice et Benedict, was a success during his life), Berlioz–ever the recycler–made use of some of its material in one of his most famous works, the Roman Carnival overture.

Here is the overture to Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini.

Share This Post