Go to sleep

Faure's Pavane in F Sharp Minor Op. 50 (excerpt) - Derek Custinger and Alexander Meyers

S is for

More then and now comparisons for the incomparable Argerich. This is why I love technology.

Scarlatti Sonata in D minor, K.141 (L.422) - Martha Argerich



Scarlatti Sonata in D minor, K.141 (L.422) - Martha Argerich



***

Ivo Pogorelić is perhaps the pianist most famous for becoming a household name in the music world after not winning a famous musical competition. At age 21, he was eliminated from the Frederic Chopin International Music Competition before the finals--partly, so it was thought, because of some of jurors' aversion to his unconventional style, both in delivery and appearance. Looking more like an 80s pop star (with distinctly New Wave hair), than the stereotypical classical musician, and interpreting the pieces with the sort of deviance that could be thought just as much pompous show as real genius, he apparently caused enough of a difference of opinion to result in his displacement despite his obvious talent. He also apparently made enough of an impression on one of the jurors, a renowned pianist, to cause that juror to resign from the competition in disgust while proclaiming his genius--she was none other than Martha Argerich.

Pogorelić's style and talent has remained the subject of controversy for pretty much his entire career (which has been inconsistent and marked by several periods of absence, most notably after his wife's death [who was also his piano teacher and whom he married the same year as the infamous competition.]) My familiarity with his interpretations was until a couple of years ago, I admit, solely through his Scarlatti pieces; that's when I came across his videos. It's terribly interesting for me to watch his hands as he plays because, much to my surprise, there is (after all this time!) a residual adverse reaction on my part to how he holds and places and flexes his fingers and wrists, stemming from my very own traditional training that was based on the premise that controlled, even placement was the key to truly emotional and personal interpretation. Which is why, as much I will give Pogorelić his due for being an excellent interpreter of Scarlatti, I secret;y delight in the Michelangeli piece, for example, more.

Scarlatti Sonata No. 3 in C Major K. 159 - Ivo Pogorelić



Scarlatti Sonata No. 3 in C Major K. 159 - Arturo MichelAngeli



By the way, here are two of the pieces Pogorelić played at the 1980 competition he did not win. Keep in mind that while the likes of Joshua Bell perform in concert today without the requisite jacket and [bow]tie look, that was simply not done at a formal performance (especially an international competition)30 years ago.

Chopin Sonata No. 2 in B Flat Minor (3rd Movement "Marche funèbre"; Lento) - Ivo Pogorelić



Chopin Scherzo No. 3 in C Sharp Minor (Op. 39) - Ivo Pogorelić



***

Scarlatti will, of course, always remind me of Scott, who played his pieces like Ivo played his Chopin.

1-2-3

Chopin Waltz in A Minor, Op. 34 No. 2 ("Valse Brilliante") - Arthur Rubinstein

OMFG

I actually said Oh.My.Fucking.God. Just like that.

(And the new answer to L.'s question apparently is that there are "songs" whose performance I would fuck.)

Bach - Concerto for 2 Violins, Strings and Continuo in D Minor, BWV 1043 (1st Movement; Vivace) - Yehudi Menuhin and David Oistrakh

B&B

I will have this LP some day.

Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1 in G Minor Op. 26 (1st Movement; Vorspiel: Allegro Moderoato) - David Oistrakh



Beethoven Violin Concerto in D Major Op. 61 1st Movement [partial] Allegro Ma Non Troppo) - David Oistrakh

More than just a whiter shade of pale

In addition to Pet Sounds and Forever Changes and A Day At The Races, this is another album that you'd eventually be subjected to, in its entirety, if you spend any decent amount of time with me. With commentary, of course (well, after an initial 'absorption' listen).

Magdalene (My Regal Zonophone) - Procol Harum



Skip Softly (My Moonbeams) - Procol Harum



Quite Rightly So - Procol Harum
Yes, this is only the fourth or fifth time I've mentioned this song. Let's see you write a love letter and turn it into an unforgettable song, hmmm?!



***

Listening to prog. rock, especially this album, usually makes me think of following it up Kachaturian, especially this. You too, right? Hah.

Oh, look, an Oistrakh recording. What a surprise.

Khachaturian's Violin Concerto in D minor; 1st movement: Allegro con fermezza (David Oistrakh)



Sure, he's better known for this (and it certainly makes more sense with the ending of Skip Softly, but that's just a tad bit too predictable...)

Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance " [from the ballet Gayane] (National Philharmonic Orchestra)

No explanation

For at least a year now I've been meaning to write about David Oistrakh--not his undeniable genius, which is well documented, but the profound impact his playing has had on me, for many, many years.

But just as it's pointless and an exercise in futility to try and describe to you what I am feeling inside, sitting here on the eve of the two month anniversary of my mom's death, so it is with explaining how I feel listening to Oistrakh play any piece, but especially this one. You won't, you don't, you can't understand and it changes nothing for me even if I were able to make you do so even a little bit. It's not your loss, it's not your love and since you can't really, truly share in it, I don't want to even attempt it.

Mendelssohn Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64 ; 1st movement: Allegro molto appassionato (David Oistrakh)
This is truly the perfect recording of the perfect violinist playing the perfect piece. Nothing beats listening to an old LP reissue of it. Take my word.

He, she, they

Think of this as a preview of sorts for a series of posts I'm getting together...

Prelude And Fugue No. 12 In F Minor - J. S. Bach



They - Jem

A cover by any other name

Although classical music composers, conductors, and musicians, in general, tend to use words like interpretation or orchestration or representation, the truth of the matter is that, unless played by the original composer or, in the occasional instances, the person it was written for, any time a classical composition is played--whether in the privacy of your home, on your instrument, or on a field by the high school marching band, or on stage by some world renowned orchestra--it is, in the end, a cover.

That's too simple a viewpoint, of course, since the same could be ascribed to any piece of music, classical or otherwise, but, realistically, very rarely--and this it applicable to music written long after recording was a possibility--do we associate a piece of classical music with an original performer (although we do quite often associate it with a performer or performance that exhibits originality).

Even so, there are a few pieces that have the distinction of being recognized in two or more variant forms strongly enough as to create a relationship analogous to that of the original and the cover as referenced in popular music. The best and most often cited example that comes to mind is Mussorgsky's 'Pictures at an Exhibition', originally composed for the piano, and Maurice Ravel's orchestration of the same piece ( which included some artistic liberties). Ravel took the beautifully lyrical piece, which [I feel] embodied the solitary perspective of experiencing Hartmann's works, and reinvented it as a different perspective of an entire group of people walking through and examining the same works of art. You come away with a new appreciation for the familiar.

And that's what any good cover does.

(Note that what's posted is not a one to one match of the movements, but they both have Promenade and Gnomus, which is enough to give you an idea and hopefully whet your appetite to look up both in their entirety).

Mussorgsky's Pictures At An Exhibition (piano 'original')



Ravel's Mussorgsky's Pictures At An Exhibition (orchestration 'cover')

Catch them while you can

(Part one of my take on classical music is here.)

One of the many things I love about youtube is that I can watch artists who passed away long before I ever had a chance to hear them, let alone see them play before my eyes, and experience them visually, however remotely. (But from the comfort of my own home, wearing pajamas, so how can I complain?!). When it comes to popular music, I mostly look for small venue performances, preferably captured on a handheld camera--the video equivalent of the audio bootleg if you will. For Queen and Elliott Smith, though, I will watch anything, from the most precisely produced video--which isn't so typical for Smith, though, it must be said--to the grainiest version of a song I've listened to and watched a hundred different ways, already. Similarly, I'll watch anything I can get my hands on from classical musicians long gone, happy to have a chance to see them in any way I can.

Nothing can ever replace the experience of a live performance, though, especially for classical music--even the most subjectively influenced recording will have a tone of controlled objectivity which, while necessary to the whole concept of recording a piece, takes away that thrill you get when you can watch perfect music being made, rather than just hearing it. That is why I try to see the living musicians I like so much in person as much as I can, so I won't be looking back 40 years from now, a white-haired old lady permanently in pajamas, yelling for someone to come setup whatever youtube's then equivalent will be on whatever the media player of the time is, trying to relive missed chances.

***

(I confess, this next section a part cut and paste from an e-mail I just sent, with the addition of a link to an article I mention and some added observations. Complete originality, if you're so inclined, returns in the sections following it.)

Daniel Barenboim is possibly my favorite living pianist and one of my favorite conductors (because of his spontaneous style). He truly enjoys playing music for people. You know how concert etiquette* is that you don't clap in between movements, only at the end of the entire piece, and when someone does clap, the stuffy old-timers attendees shush or snort? Well, at one Barenboim concert at the Kimmel Center, a few years ago, a whole group of us clapped at the end of the first movement of the piece he was playing, etiquette be damned, he played it so superbly. We were immediately shushed by some of the other folk in the audience...until Daniel leaned over to the mic. over the piano and said, "Please, it gives me no greater happiness than to hear you express your joy for music when you feel it...you can even clap as I am playing, if you are so moved!" He was so approachable, too, in the preconcert session.

I really don't know how much of who he was as a husband is depicted truthfully in the movie made about Jacqueline Du Pre, and how he did or didn't care for her during their marriage. I honestly don't care--there is, after all, a different world that geniuses seem to inhabit and rules that they abide by, which I may not agree with but I don't understand, either, so who am I to judge? As a musician, though, I know he cares, and that's all I ask as someone who loves music and wants to hear it played that way, with care.

I am a little weird, in that I like the Rondo/allegro (third) movement best in the Sonata Pathetique; most people go for the first or second movement. Maybe because I learned that first from the whole piece. At any rate, Barenboim on Beethoven. Of course, don't let me stop you from listening to the other two movements.

Sonata Pathetique: Rondo Allegro - Daniel Barenboim



*Side note: there was a really good article in The New Yorker on the development of concert etiquette in their September 8th issue...quite fascinating and not at all how probably most of today's so called classical music lovers and concerts attendees think why it exists! Also fascinating insight into how the difference between concerts and music salons a few hundred years ago and now shaped classical music, as much as the composers did. See here for it. Does it go without saying that I am ordering the Weber text mentioned in the article next month, when I have enough gift certs from my Amazon card to cover it and I am really excited about it? (I am trying to curb impulse buying, you know, otherwise I would have one-clicked it so fast your head would spin)

***

(We now return to the original portion of the programme.)

I first learned of Leila Josefowicz in the very early 90s, in fact on my very first trip to the U.S. It would be a few more years until I finally got around to finding and purchasing a recording by her, and several more years after that until I had the great good luck to see her perform.

The performance of a musician is very much a sum of their talent, their dedication, their interpretation, and their persona on stage (and sometimes, but not always, off stage as well). There are a lot of people who like their musicians, especially violinists, more traditional--that is, a coolly elegant and forceful performer who nonetheless has a restrained manner about themselves (though never their music). The straightup, no twist kind of musician. Then there are others who enjoy seeing--and who, in a way, want to see--the musician lose themselves in the force of their performance, and feel heat emanating from the stage.

I personally like both types of musicians, although I am, as with all things classic, very particular about exactly how I like each one and when and how. I do know that I liked Josefowicz's fiery delivery long before I ever saw her live, and that, despite her critics (of her performance style not her virtuosity), I've never felt her showmanship overshadow her skill. When she performed with the then Haddonfield Symphony (now renamed Symphony in C), she was paired with Rossen Milanov--another conductor who puts himself into each and every piece as if his life depended on it (you have never seen a back so expressive; I swear you could read a score simply from the flexing of his shoulders as he'd wave his baton). It's probably the most unabashedly exuberant performance I have ever seen and, in some ways, orgasmic; I am willing to bet at least half of that audience, the majority of whom are usually senior citizens, went home and tore up the sheets that night.

(Coincidentally, if the kid had been a girl--which I was entirely convinced of until, you know, he popped out otherwise, he would've very likely been called Leila Josefa for reasons completely unrelated to the musician. It is sort of funny how he kind of favors her a little in looks, though!)

Here are two examples of her 'younger days', when she was 13 and then 20 years old. Her control in the Paganini piece still takes my breath away everytime I listen to it. (And lord, does the kid really looks like her in this first one, with his hair the same length, ha ha.)

Paganini Violin Concerto No. 2 in B Minor ("La Campanella') - Leila Josefowicz



Excerpt from Gypsy Airs - Leila Josefowicz




Incidentally, if you want to compare her to another musician who is hailed/criticized for the same type of passionate/overwrought performances (description depending on whether you are in the pro or con camp), check out Joshua Bell. I've also had the good luck to see him several times live as well and while he is not one of my all time favorites and I don't consider him one of 'the' greats, I definitely do seek out his performances. His heat, so to speak, is of that perfect afternoon warmth kind that lulls you into a nice sense of calm with little jolts of indescribable happiness because things are just right and for no other reason.

Here is an interesting side by side comparison of Bell and Josefowicz playing the same piece, Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1, a lovely romantic piece (of course, the orchestra and venue, not to mention the instrument itself, play such an incredible role in the final product--more on that later.)

Bruch Violin Concerto No.1 in D Minor - Joshua Bell



Bruch Violin Concerto No.1 in D Minor - Leila Josefowicz



***

I am not a huge cello fan, but for two years, I looked forward to our Haddonfield subscriptions specifically because of the first chair for cello, a young lady by the name of Yumi Kendall (whose brother had incidentally been the concertmaster the previous years and had graduated on and upwards.) The very first time I saw her, she reminded me of the only [recorded] performance I had of Jacqueline Du Pre up to that point; Yumi was still too, not too young, no, but untouched (either by life experience or that little touch of insanity that marks the real geniuses, as I mentioned before) to really be even comparable, but something about her evoked the same tantalizing balance of delight and depression I got from Du Pre. I've been watching her career with a lot of enthusiasm--once she graduated from the teaching orchestra, she went on to join the Philadelphia Orchestra as associate principal and was even principal for one concert* her very first season, which speaks volumes for her talent. Definitely someone to keep an eye on.

*The concert was the wonderfully witty Every Good Boy Deserves Favor by Tom Stoppard (music by Andre Previn) performed by the Wilma Theatre and Philadelphia Orchestra several years ago. If you ever have the chance to see it performed, jump at it, although personal bias towards the Wilma makes me think their coupling with the Philadelphia Orchestra was too perfect to be repeated elsewhere (incidentally conducted for that by Rossen Milanov, who is also assistant conductor for the PhilaOrch).

Jesus, you really can find anything on youtube. It's definitely not showcasing her talent to its best (she really shines as a soloist), but at least you get an idea, especially if you watch the last three and a half minutes or so.

Beasts by Charles Abramovic - Dolce Suono (including Yumi Kendall)

Classic act

I love classical music. You know how some people who are enamored of mathematics talk about it with such enthusiasm you can almost see them crunching numbers, devouring equations, chewing logarithms and biting through integrals, as if math is something completely tangible? No? Okay, you know how I am enamored of mathematics and talk about it...okay, anyway, my love for classical music is similar--I feel as if I can put my arms around the the movements in a piece, taking fistfuls of the notes and hugging them to me and inhaling whole lines of melody, the way you do when you're holding on to someone you love and trying to imprint their everything about them on yourself.

If I start talking about classical music, I won't stop for a long time, so the best way for me is to approach it from different angles: favorite pieces, composers, players, conductors. Even then, it'll likely have to be just a quick touch, if I am to ever to actually stop long enough to get around to posting about it.

***

In my very first post here, I mentioned the book, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, and how I was completely taken in by the character of Mick. Mick loves classical music physically, without knowing or questioning why she does, more than she probably loves any actual person. Her relationship with music is an underlying theme to her story throughout the book; nowhere is best described as when she hears Beethoven's Third Symphony for the first (and last) time, after her birthday. I have to believe Carson McCullers is ascribing her own feelings to Mick, because I just don't see how she could have written the passages that describe Mick's reaction simply as something imagined by her (McCuller's) mind, and not felt by her own being.

***

So powerful was the impact of those particular passages on me, that I immediately went in search of finding a recording of the symphony. I knew my dad had, years earlier, recorded all nine of Beethoven's symphonies on cassette tapes, from recordings on LP borrowed from the local library. It didn't take me long to find them; my dad had recorded them on extended play cassettes so that--with the exception of the Ninth--there were two symphonies to each cassette, one on each side. I popped in the cassette which had the Third on it, pressed play, and leaned back to experience it for myself.

The first thing I noticed was that I didn't quite feel the same onslaught of emotion as described in the book, but rather a buildup, something that felt tenuous at first and then gradually took hold. As the piece played on, I kept thinking there was something almost youthful and straightforward about it, rather than mature and complex. The description of the movements didn't match up with the book, either...but by that point I was too enchanted by the music to really care. There was a simplicity in this particular symphony that I liked and could somehow relate to--something that I didn't quite understand (yet; I was about just shy of 12 at the time) for the two symphonies I already knew (Fifth and Ninth).

When the symphony ended I went back to rewind it to listen to the last movement again and, not able to eyeball how far back I had rewound, took out the cassette to take a closer look.

It turned out I had been listening to the First all along.

***

I did eventually listen to the Third and while I do think it is worthy of the praises heaped on it, both in book and elsewhere, nothing will ever take the place of the No.1 symphony with me. As undeveloped, raw, and elementary as it may seem compared with the later, greater works--a promise of the things to come, a mere stepping stone--it will always be my symphony, the way the Third was Mick's.

"This was her [...] walking in the daytime and by herself at night. In the hot sun and in the dark with all the plans and feelings. This music was her—the real plain her.This music did not take a long time or a short time. It did not have anything to do with time going by at all. [...] The whole world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen. Now that it was over there was only her heart beating like a rabbit and this terrible hurt."

(My favorite recordings are by the Berlin Philharmonic, conducted by Karajan, and the Vienna Philharmonic, conducted by Furtwangler. Here is the final movement from the Furtwangler one.)