Tone Poem Tuesday

I’ll have more to say about this later in the week, but for now I learned yesterday that one of my musical heroes, pianist and conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy, has retired from public performance. Ashkenazy has been a giant of the music world for more than sixty years, and his performances–both at the keyboard and on the podium–always have a good deal of excitement behind them. In my opinion, Ashkenazy’s cycle of the three symphonies of Sergei Rachmaninov have never been equaled. (One day I’ll write the long paean to the Rachmaninov Second that’s been in my head for years.)

While Ashkenazy might well be most closely associated with Russian and Slavic music, he was no one-trick pony. Here he is conducting Debussy, about as spiritually far from the heavy Russian Romanticism of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov you can get and yet still remain in roughly the same time period. Debussy’s La Mer is a three-part work, called “symphonic sketches” by the composer, who wanted to avoid the associations of the symphony and the symphonic poem. Debussy often worked to throw off formal constraints in a way that is not unlike his earlier countryman, Hector Berlioz. La Mer is deeply evocative and masterful in its use of orchestral textures to convey Debussy’s impressions of the sea.

Here is La Mer by Claude Debussy, performed by the Royal College of Music Symphony Orchestra, conducted by the great Vladimir Ashkenazy.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

I am constantly amazed at the sheer output of Antonin Dvorak. Music poured out of the man, and his gift for melodic drama set with wonderful orchestration never, ever fails to delight. Even so, I was unprepared for the degree to which this piece–which, to my knowledge, I had never heard before a couple weeks ago–forced its way into my imagination. It’s called The Golden Spinning Wheel, and it is based on a Czech folktale that was gathered into a book by Czech poet K.J. Erben. As folktales go, it’s pretty satisfyingly grim, with a young maiden capturing the heart of the king and being murdered by her evil stepmother for her troubles, only to be resurrected by a magician. You can read the entire tale here…but meanwhile, give a listen to Dvorak’s tone poem, which is thrilling and adventurous and romantic in all the wonderful meanings of the word. At times this work is so swashbuckling in its sound that you can practically see Errol Flynn, rapier in hand, as he disposes of the evil soldiers as he fights his way to his love’s side.

Music like this is what keeps me coming back to classical music, year in and year out. I hope you’ll give it a listen. Here is The Golden Spinning Wheel by Antonin Dvorak.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

I suppose a “Back to basics” kind of thing is normal in January, isn’t it? Not so much a series of resolutions or a grand statement of intent to change my life, but there is most definitely a desire to clean things up a bit and to indulge a bit of simplicity.

In that vein I’ve been listening to a bit of Franz Joseph Haydn of late. Haydn’s reputation has taken a pretty dispiriting turn over the last few decades, it seems to me; he’s seen as a kindly old composer of nice, pleasant, and undemanding music. Haydn is Mozart without the fire, a placeholder to give us someone to talk about other than Mozart in the era between Bach and Beethoven. He’s referred to as “Papa” Haydn, and his symphonies often have cute nicknames: The “Clock” symphony, the “Surprise” symphony, and so on.

Well, to that I say nonsense, because in Haydn I find beauty and passion and the very best of the rationalism of the Classical era. I find formal perfection, structural amazement, and melodies that lodge in the ear with joyous aplomb. Returning to Haydn is like drinking clear, cool water after a long and difficult journey.

Here is the Overture in D Major by Franz Joseph Haydn. Notice how complete a journey he takes us on, all in the space of just under five minutes!

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Tone Poem Tuesday

Thus we end 2019! I’ll hear this work newly performed tomorrow night, when it is the traditional second encore in the Vienna Philharmonic’s New Years Concert. It’s not a new year until I hear On the Beautiful Blue Danube.

See you in 2020, folks!

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Tone Poem Tuesday

If you’re familiar with the work of Robert Russell Bennett, you’re almost certainly familiar with the work he did using the tunes and melodies of other composers. And if you have any love of American musical theater of the 20th century, then you’re almost certainly familiar with the work of Robert Russell Bennett, and you may not even realize it! Bennett was largely known for his work as an arranger and orchestrator for many of the great Broadway shows of the classic era of American musical theater. Look at the fine print of many of those albums and you’ll see something along the lines of “Arrangements by Robert Russell Bennett” or “Orchestrations by Russell Bennett”.

Bennett also arranged many fine orchestral suites of Broadway music, which have become staples in the repertoire of Pops orchestras all over the world. Bennett’s suites are almost always fine compositions in their own right, with Bennett giving a lot of thought to the melodies and how they should sound in a purely orchestral setting. The suites are more than worth listening to on their own, proving that dramatic music does not always need to be heard in its original context to be effective.

Here is the Porgy and Bess: A Symphonic Picture by Robert Russell Bennett. Enjoy!

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Tone Poem Tuesday

So this week we conclude our trip through Dvorak’s trio of tone poems that he called “Nature, Life, and Love” with the Othello Overture. There was some definite Shakespearean inspiration for Dvorak here, but it’s not wise to try to find exact correspondences in the music to the drama. The overture is definitely more stormy and takes a darker tone than the previous two installments in this trio of overtures. For a work whose alternate title indicates that what is being explored is love, it certainly seems that Dvorak has a view of love that doesn’t exclude that emotion’s more introspective and combative elements.

Here is Dvorak’s Othello Overture.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

This week we have the second part of Dvorak’s trilogy of tone poems that he called “Nature, Life, and Love”: the “Carnival” overture. This overture launches into a dance-like rhythm from the very opening bars, and its energy almost never abates throughout, and by the time the work ends nine minutes or so later,you can almost hear the wild dancers in a village square exhaling with relief as they are finally allowed to fall, gasping, to the ground as the orchestra’s work ends. As a representation of the sheer energy and joy of life that often inhabits Dvorak’s music, the “Carnival” overture is unusually potent.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

Let’s check in on Antonin Dvorak, shall we? He’s always good for a solid listen, and today’s work is no exception. It’s the concert overture In Nature’s Realm, which Dvorak composed as part of a trilogy of concert overtures. The entire trilogy was called Nature, Life, and Love, but Dvorak eventually split the three component works of the trilogy up, resulting in the present work, Carnival, and Othello. We’ll hear the other two in due course, but In Nature’s Realm is a typically wonderful Dvorak work, full of pastoral beauty, natural lyricism, and that ever-typical Dvorakian energy and momentum. Like most of this composer’s works, there is a sense of proportion that hews throughout, and the opening passages with answering motifs that sound like horn calls as they build to the first big statement suggest the magic of a sunrise in verdant hills.

Antonin Dvorak is the type of composer to whom I like to return when the air is coldest and the sky darkest, if that makes sense. He reminds me of warmer and sunnier days. Here is his In Nature’s Realm overture.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

Oddly, given my love of Sergei Rachmaninov, it’s odd that I’ve heard this particular work of his only a couple of times, and not at all in the last five or six years. “The Rock” is a tone poem Rachmaninov wrote early in his career, when he was just twenty years old. The piece is surprisingly impressionistic and colorful for a composer who would later be known for achingly lyrical post-Romanticism, but the work also displays Rachmaninov’s skill for orchestration, all the more surprising for a composer so strongly associated with the piano (contrasting with, say, Franz Liszt, whose orchestrations were occasionally bound by his deep understanding of the piano).

The Rock is partially based on a fragment of poetry:

The golden cloud slept through the night
Upon the breast of the giant-rock

The piece also draws (according to the composer) from a Chekhov short story in which a man, stuck in a blizzard, tells a young woman the story of his life and his struggles. There is certainly that kind of brooding at work here in this piece…but of course there’s brooding. We’re talking about Sergei Rachmaninov here.

Here is The Rock.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

After the month of dark and grim and scary and brooding music, let’s return to something a bit lighter, shall we? This duofold selection is one of the most beloved opera extracts of all time; in fact, this selection is so popular that it has almost completely overshadowed the actual opera from which it comes. The Polka and Fugue from Schwanda the Bagpiper is nine minutes of pure delight. The opera was written by Jaromir Weinberger, a Czech composer who later emigrated to the United States. Weinberger was apparently prolific, but only this particular opera lives on of all his works, and that only occasionally. The Polka and Fugue is a mainstay of concert halls and recordings, though. It’s quite an orchestral showpiece and a complex bit of contrapuntal writing (apparently a particular strength of Weinberger as a composer), and this performance especially puts the “showpiece” aspects of the work on display. You should listen to this with the sound up a bit, if you can; this is vintage Chicago Symphony Orchestra when Fritz Reiner was at the helm. The former trumpet player in me thrills at these old recordings, hearing Adolph Herseth soaring above it all. Just try not to dwell too much on the fact that the photo of Reiner on the video itself shows him as he apparently always looked: as if the joy was a concept completely alien to him. Reiner was by all accounts an absolute tyrant on the podium, and if there are any personal stories about him that show his warmth and humor I’ve yet to read them, but the man was able to pour warmth and joy and humanity into his musicmaking.

Enjoy the “Polka and Fugue” from Schwanda the Bagpiper!

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