In honor of tomorrow being Valentine’s Day, here’s one of the most famous musical treatments of one of the most famous love stories of all time: Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture. I just listened to this the other day with fresh ears, after not having heard it in quite some time, and I was struck anew by its raw power in depicting the central conflict in the play (the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets) and the rapturous love of the two young people who think to rise above it all, only to be consumed by it in the end. It’s a grand work, and it is almost the greatest musical treatment that Shakespeare’s play has ever received. (The greatest, of course, is Berlioz’s third symphony….)
I’ve listened to this piece four times tonight in succession, so beautiful did I find it. Karl Goldmark was a Hungarian composer in the Romantic era who lived much of his life in Vienna, and as such his music is highly reflective of the Viennese and the Germanic traditions of the time: there is much of Wagner’s approach to color and orchestration in Goldmark’s work. But this particular piece, the Sakuntala Overture, is full of lyricism and music of high yearning, particularly in the melody that is first heard at the 1:27 mark and which recurs throughout. The overture is a concert overture, not connected to any music drama or opera, and as such it is complete in its meditation upon an Indian legend that is told in the Mahabharata.
Here is Karl Goldmark’s Sakuntala Overture. I hope you enjoy it.
It’s always worth remembering that classical music isn’t just about dusty old works by composers long dead. British composer Eric Whitacre is still very much alive, and he is actually only a little less than two years older than me. I don’t know a whole lot about him, actually. The work featured here is, to my knowledge, the only work of his that I have heard, but it’s a beautiful piece indeed, for solo cello and strings. Called The River Cam, the work was composed in honor of cellist Julian Lloyd Webber’s sixtieth birthday (and he is actually the featured soloist in this recording), and it is inspired by the titular River Cam in England, which flows through Cambridge. The work is meditative and dreamy in the tradition of Ralph Vaughan Williams, putting me a bit in mind of The Lark Ascending. The music rises and falls and churns, conveying the energy of a river without resorting to brisk tempi or harsh discord. There’s a lot going on here as one listens, with the melodic lines going in different directions and at times creating dissonances that are nevertheless very beautiful to behold.
One thing is certain: I’ll be attending more on the music of Eric Whitacre.
I heard this frankly amazing piece the other day on the radio, and I promptly listened to it three more times as soon as I got home from driving about. The work is the Russian Overture by Sergei Prokofiev, and it is simply a collection of tunes, some of which are actual Russian folk tunes and some of which are original themes of folkish nature composed by Prokofiev himself. Prokofiev isn’t the type of Russian composer we often think of: he doesn’t pour out songlike melody like a Borodin or a Tchaikovsky or a Rachmaninov. His is a more modern sensibility, a reaction against Romanticism but still without the full-on nods to the modern of a Stravinsky. I found this work an infectious listen, with its occasional singing, its frequent playfulness, and its variability between intimate song and boisterous showmanship.
Starting off 2018’s musical selections with a short and lovely setting by Percy Grainger: a familiar folk tune from Scotland, “Ye Banks and Braes O’ Bonnie Doon”. Grainger is always worth returning to, for his sonorous settings and his ability to paint an amazing tonal picture in just a few minutes.
A break from the Christmas music! Here we have the Welsh Rhapsody by Sir Edward German, a composer who lived from 1862 to 1936. He is most well-known for several of his light operas, as he was seen during his career as something of a successor to Sir Arthur Sullivan. German lived a long enough life to see the musical style that he favored fall out of fashion, and like many fine composers, his work fell into neglect and obscurity. This piece does not deserve that fate, though — it is a thoroughly enjoyable work of late-Romantic orchestral writing, thrilling and lyrical and muscular. Enjoy!
I’ve been exploring with some fascination the American composers of the late Romantic era, the ones whose music is rarely heard these days because none of it really goes beyond the stylings of what was going on musically in Europe at the time. Everyone was basically writing European-style music in America, with no real nationalistic material to incorporate as a way of standing out. American music didn’t start to break out until the arrivals of Modernism and jazz, but there was still important and meaningful work being written, and a lot of it is undeserving of its obscurity.
Case in point: the tone poem Hero and Leander by Victor Herbert. Herbert was primarily known as a composer of operettas in the earliest days of the American musical theater (which, again, didn’t really start to catch fire until jazz showed up), and his name is still slightly familiar to audiences because of his work Babes in Toyland, which still shows up in excerpts around Christmas each year (especially the “March of the Toys”). Hero and Leander is an impressive work, dreamy and Wagnerian, telling the story of two doomed lovers from Greek myth. Guided by a lamp she lit for him, Hero would swim to Leander’s island tower each night. But one day a storm arose, blowing out the lamp and leaving him at sea to drown. When Leander saw Hero’s body floating in the waves, she threw herself into the sea to be with him forever. Herbert composed this half-hour symphonic poem for his own Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and hearing it now I’m struck by its skill even if the musical language is straight out of the Liszt-Wagner-Strauss lineage.
It’s been a busy and hectic several days here, what with The Store ramping up for Thanksgiving and an annual visit from the people whose name is on the front of the building, to pounding out words for NaNoWriMo (I’m on track, yay me!), and having a cold the last few days. So I forgot to post anything at all.
It’s not a tone poem, it’s a waltz. But it is a tone poem. I’d explain, but I’ve had some rum and I’d rather just listen to the music. So here is the greatest waltz of all time, On the Beautiful Blue Danube, in the wonderful video from the New Years From Vienna a few years back when they intercut the performance with video taken from the Danube from source to where it empties into the Black Sea.
There’s not a single day of the year when I couldn’t listen to this piece and not feel better about the world.
I heard this work a few weeks ago while driving home, and made sure to make note of it. Ernest Farrar was a British composer born in 1885, but his life and career were ended in September 1918, when he was killed in action in World War I, less than two months before the war ended. So many young people of promise, snuffed out in those trenches and on those fields.
This work, an orchestral rhapsody titled The Open Road, seems to be a musical portrayal of a walk through Scotland (or so I assume, from the bagpipe-like sound of the work’s open bars and a motif that recurs). It’s vigorous music in the Romantic mode, unsurprising and melodic and competent. In short, it’s a pleasurable work, maybe not a masterpiece but not everything needs to be.
