Showing posts with label Dvorak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dvorak. Show all posts

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Little-Known, and Oddball Classical Pieces

“”—‘’
‘Little-known’ is pretty obvious, but what do I mean by ‘Oddball’?  I don’t really know, but there are a few pieces of music that are interesting from the point of view of the circumstances under which they were written, or for some such extra-musical aspect of its existence, at least as much as for its interest simply as a piece of music.

People who are trying to “get into” classical music are usually —and quite understandably— interested in trivia about a piece of music (or at least, a piece of music which is associated with some accessible piece of trivia), just so that they have something to hang their thoughts on!

The music of Haydn is famous for little eccentric things that he put into his pieces.  One little-know instance, I believe, is the opening movement of Creation, or Die Schopfung.  It is intended to represent chaos, and as you can appreciate, music is almost the very antithesis of chaos.



(The clip is conveniently titled, in German: "Introduction: Chaos"), and you can almost guess the meaning of the word Einleitung: Lead-in, or introduction).

Bach is holding one of his
crab canons!
My favorite composer is  —surprise!!!— Johann Sebastian Bach (or just Sebastian Bach, as he was apparently called, in his family, since almost all his uncles and cousins were Johann's).  There are a number of oddities to be found in Bach's music, but one of the most fascinating is also one he was evidently most proud of; in fact, he had his portrait drawn with himself holding a scrap of parchment with this piece drawn on it painfully, in oils.  It is a mirror canon, which is a piece that sounds the same played forwards as well as backwards, as well as upside-down.  It is one of --I believe-- several crab canons he wrote, and actually sounds amazingly good, for a piece that tries to do so much.  Incidentally, the first half of the main tune of the canon is just one of the motifs in another piece from the Musical Offering, namely the Trio Sonata.  That has several themes that are traded around between the three voices of the Sonata of which this is one.  (The mirror canon theme is indicated in purple, because it was also known as The Royal Theme.)

Bach also wrote an aria in one of his church cantatas, which was taken from an aria from a "secular" cantata --pieces written for public celebrations, such as the installation of a new City Council, etc; even civic events had religious observations.  (This particular one was written for someone's birthday.)  Anyway, at the end of the aria (vocal solo) in the church cantata, Bach adds a closing section that is a trio, which goes on for almost a minute and a half!  That is certainly unusual.

Canons are certainly interesting: it is a piece in which a second voice enters with the tune after a delay.  It is the same principle as a round, but the tunes are longer, and typically there are just two voices, each following the other.  Pachelbel's Kanon is an exception: it has three voices: the three violins, and as you know well (especially at Christmastime), the tune is far longer than a typical round.

 [Added Later]

Well, I guess I just couldn't resist.  I hunted down the music for Pachelbel’s famous Kanon (a movement from a sonata), and scored it for as wildly different-sounding instruments as I could think of.  The original, scored for three violins and bass is just too homogeneous-sounding for the canon to emerge; it just sounds like a dance with three masked, identical dancers looks : the dancers are indistinguishable, and you have to take the thing as simply abstract moving patterns.  But I gave the top voice (or at least Voice Number 1) to the violin, the next to the flute, and the third to a bassoon.  That move completely destroys the homogeneity, but guess what: you can actually hear the canon beautifully.  So the delicacy and restfulness of the Canon we hear (usually at Christmas, as I remarked) is gone; this version does sound a little rowdy:



Another unusual use of canon is the last movement of Cesar Franck's famous Sonata in A for violin and piano.  This is beautiful, and the canon is only incidental to the beauty of the piece.

Hmm.  Let's see now.  (I'm running out of things that I can remember.)  Ah, Dvorak's Harmonium Quartets.

Dvorak wrote some lovely chamber music featuring a harmonium: they were called Bagatelles.  The humble harmonium, of course, is never even heard today as a serious musical instrument.  They're used as accompaniments in poor parish churches that can't afford either a pipe organ, or a Casio keyboard, and heaven knows those cost only about $150.  But a harmonium is a simple thing: it is essentially an enormous harmonica (no, they don't look like harmonicas; they look like tiny organs.  The organ in the Pachelbel's Canon clip is actually a tiny chamber pipe organ.  The pipes are just about 4' long, at the longest) connected to a keyboard, and a foot-operated bellows.  (In the clip, the bellows are operated by hand, which means you can't play with both hands.  This type is not intended for classical music, but for folk music, especially Eastern European and Indian.)  Anyone older than, say, 65 years, is likely to have seen one.  Here is a movement from one of the Bagatelles.  Here is a clip of a rehearsal, showing a harmonium actually being played!

I have to take time out for a brief rant here.  The world is full of countless old things that are extra, we don't need them; they're old, they're marginal, they're on the fringes of modern life.  Should we preserve them?  Will we miss them if they're gone?  If they belong to the distant cultural history of a people with whom I have no direct connection, need I be aware of them, and maintain an interest?  The pieces of paper on which Bob Dylan scribbled the words of his song: Like a Rolling Stone, are being auctioned off at Sotheby's.  They will probably bring millions of dollars.  But I feel it is almost, or more, important to find good harmoniums, and learn to play them, (actually they're easy to play) and perform unusual pieces like Dvorak's Bagatelles on them, and keep them in the public eye.  The wonder of life on Earth is about richness, especially richness that does not imply destroying the environment.  Young people are increasingly difficult to keep entertained; it seems that only something coming out of a video monitor has the ability to keep them engaged.  I suspect that the more balanced individual in tomorrow's society, and the ones on whom we can depend to provide motivation and leadership to solve the enormous problems tomorrow's society will face, will be aware of, and familiar with, a variety of cultures and traditions and cultural artifacts, and at an early age.  We had better work on this; I doubt that my own child knows half the things I'm talking about ...

Talking about unusual instruments, Mozart wrote a few pieces for Glass Harmonica.  The glass harmonica is essentially an instrument that uses an array of things like wineglasses to make a sound.  You may know that it is possible to make a lovely sound by running a wet finger around the rim of a wineglass.  You can even tune the note, by adding liquid to the glass.  In a glass harmonica, the glass pieces are arranged sideways and rotated by a motor, with the lower parts dipped in a container of water, to keep them wet.  Let me try and find you a video clip of one ... Here it is.  (I have been known to disrupt wedding receptions by fooling around with the champagne glasses.  I regret it now.  At a wedding, we should leave the disruption to the couple.)

In popular music, my favorite group is The Beatles.  Over the years, every one of them got a chance to sing in one song or another, but the majority of songs were sung, of course, by John Lennon and Paul McCartney.  Once the group disbanded, arguably it was George Harrison, who played Lead Guitar most of the time, who was best known for his post-Beatles career, certainly among those who were not initially Beatles fans.  But the number of songs in which all three: George Harrison, John Lennon and Paul McCartney sang are relatively few.

One of the best known is Nowhere Man, a song that is sadly neglected nowadays.  (It is a commentary on disengaged individuals, and was probably inspired by someone whose attention John Lennon wanted, and did not get!)  The opening phrases are in 3 vocal parts, after which John takes over, and the other two sing backup.  Another song, even less well known, is You're going to lose that girl, from Help!  This follows a similar pattern, except that most of the song is with a single lead vocal, with backup in harmony by the other two.

While we're on 3-part harmony, here's another favorite: In the early morning rain, written by Gordon Lightfoot, and brilliantly outFooted by Peter, Paul and Mary, arguably the trio that sang the most correctly-written 3-part harmony, that is to say, the most satisfying to the classically-trained ear.

I plan to add a couple of examples here, but that's all for the moment!  Talk to you later,

Arch

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Next Steps in getting into Classical CDs

.
Last week, I sent you off to get yourself a CD or two, to listen to it, and see whether you liked what you heard. Most lovers of classical music --even if they're generally happy to hear classical music of any flavor-- do have their particular favorite kinds. Here are my thoughts about each piece (or work) that I suggested in the previous post, just to give you a (possible) idea why you did or did not like the work, and to supply connections to others. I'm going on the initial assumption that you would probably like pieces with similar attributes, but of course you might like something completely different a lot better! Anyway, for what it's worth:

Chamber Music

I sent you off looking for Mozart's Clarinet Quintet. This is a piece I really like, and I know I'm not alone. The second movement, particularly, is just gorgeous: tender, contemplative, melodious, delicate. In contrast, the Rondo movement, with its main Minuet-like theme, is witty and jolly, though it stays within the more or less dignified mood that Minuets are generally associated with. (One episode is very much like a Laendler, the dance featured in the Sound of Music, in which Julie Andrews begins dancing with one of the boys, and ends up dancing with the Baron himself.) Mozart also wrote several wonderful string quartets, including this String Quartet in G major.

My favorite composer is Bach, and I encourage you to try listening to some Bach chamber music.
Here is a sonata for violin and harpsichord (being played by a recorder and harpsichord instead);
Here is a trio sonata from The Musical Offering, one of the most beautiful movements in that collection; another movement, played by the Kuijken family (notice the viola da gamba, which looks rather like a cello with way too many strings). This is Baroque music. The word Baroque is used to describe a highly ornate style developed around the sixteen hundreds, extending to around 1750. This period is sufficiently removed from the present for the music to sound "dated", which is something to recommend it to some tastes, and a setback to other tastes.

Haydn developed the String Quartet, a sort of very austere sonata for the four very closely-related instruments of two violins, a viola and a cello. Here is one of them (nicknamed "The Lark"). The plinking sound in some places is gotten by using a technique called pizzicato, where the strings are plucked instead of bowed.

Brahms wrote several amazing sextets (6 instruments). Mendelssohn wrote some gorgeous music for strings. His Octet for Strings is one of the miracles of the modern world. Another genre is the Piano Trio (Piano+violin+cello). A famous work in that genre is the Archduke Trio of Beethoven.

Concertos

The J. S. Bach Concertos: 1041, 1042, 1043. It's hardly possible to dislike these. Here is Anne Sofie Mutter playing the last movement of the 1041. The rhythm is a gigue (or jig), and boy, does she play it fast. Who said Bach can't be exciting?

The Triple Concerto, 1044 has a wonderfully philosophical middle movement, played by the soloists alone (sometimes with a cello backing the bass line). Triple concertos have a wonderfully different feeling to them, because the soloists form a team, and the success of the concerto depends as much on the feeling among the soloists as it does on their virtuosity.

[Added later:
Georg Friderik Händel, a German from Halle who settled in England, has written not only some of the most listenable and famous music played today. His more serious music is in the genre of Opera, which he loved. His lighter works, however, have immediate as well as lasting appeal. This piece is one of my greatest favorites: the Alla Hornpipe from one of the Watermusic Suites. (This music always reminds me of a royal wedding; it is so grand and festive!) Handel's work is utterly musical, even if a little on the solid, foursquare side, far less complex, and a little more forward-looking that that of Bach, tending towards the so-called galant style that was coming into fashion in the middle years of the 18th century. Even if I neglected to mention Handel in the first post in this series, he is by no means a mere footnote in the panoply of the music of the last four centuries. For example, look at his concerto for organ.]

Mozart: The 5 violin concertos. These are lighthearted, melodious confections that are immediately attractive to the beginning listener, but lack the depth that will keep one coming back to them. The A major (no. 5) is one of the most memorable. If you're destined to be a Mozart lover, though, these will signal that fact. The grace of Mozart's string writing is indescribable. This is Monica Huggett, one of the most respected violinist of the last few decades. Here is the first movement from Concerto No. 1 in B Flat major, being played by an all-women orchestra, except for the director and soloist! (Why not a female soloist, too?)

[Added later: One of the most beloved pieces by Mozart is the famous Sinfonia Concertante for Violin and Viola. This is an utterly romantic piece which is a nice combination of brilliance and musicality.]

The Piano concertos are entirely another matter. They are serious works, with more to say than the violin concertos, and were intended as vehicles for Mozart himself. Here's Keith Jarrett playing the first movement of the K488 (no. 23 in A major). Another clip features Zoltan Koscis, playing the concerto while also playing along in continuo style, something that is coming back in fashion for Mozart concertos. The last movement is fast and exciting, and one of my favorites.

Mozart's Clarinet Concerto, K 622 is a universal favorite. Here we hear a performance of the slow movement, evoking great tranquility and almost otherworldly stillness. (The slow movement of the Quintet also has a similar feeling in many spots, though the more intimate writing makes the effect more romantic.)

Beethoven: Here's Concerto no. 4. As you can see, the piano itself plays the opening notes, an enormous innovation. (In Concerto no. 3, you see how the piano stays silent until almost the middle of the movement, after which it makes its entrance and dominates the remainder of the movement.) These are works with great expressiveness, even if there is a great deal of display of bravura on the part of the soloist.

The violin concerto is a favorite among violinists, for the most part. Here is Itzhak Perlman playing (most of) the first movement.

Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto: this is a highly approachable concerto, and will probably make friends for violin concertos in general, and the violin as an instrument, than for Mendelssohn himself. Mendelssohn's music is gaining in importance, but is still on the fringes of the classical repertoire. (This clip is annotated, giving several items of trivia about the work, which keeps up the interest!)

Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto is interesting because of its uncompromising nature, the almost Beethovenesque willingness to make "ugly sounds", which one forgets in the sheer energy of the work. It is one of the most virtuosic pieces for violin and orchestra, and very, very Russian in flavor. Here is a very youthful Sarah Chang playing the first movement.

Brahms: Violin concerto, 2 piano concertos, and a double concerto for violin and 'cello. The violin concerto is on the monumental side; the first movement goes on for around 20 minutes, most of one side of an LP record. This recording is by Henryk Szeryng. Brahms, though he had his lighter moments, was a serious fellow; to this day, it is a puzzle why I, of all people find his music so satisfying. It's as if Brahms is serious enough for all us, so that we can take a break from it. The piano concerti are simply wonderful, too. (In this excerpt you see how long a shadow Beethoven cast. I would say Brahms is chaneling Beethoven here, if it weren't so impertinent.) And the double concerto is also a gem; probably more beloved by Brahms lovers than by the general classical music world.

Dvorak: here's a tantalizing clip of the Violin concerto. Dvorak inherited the marvelous repertoire of Mendelssohn and Beethoven, as well an inexhaustible fund of melody from his native land. (If we can judge from the music of Dvorak, the Czechs must be musical indeed.)

[Added later:
Schumann piano concerto: Here is the last movement being played by Hélène Grimaud. The whole concerto is filled with simple joy, in great contrast to the life of this most literary of musicians, which was plagued with acute psychological problems (which appear, from their description, as caused by a very severe bipolar disorder). A concerto with a very similar mood, often paired with this one, is that of Edvard Grieg, one of the first Norwegian composers to receive international recognition.]

To proceed:

One thing you have done, we hope, is to get a feel for a composer in the era 1700 - 1900 whose music you can relate to! (If you can't there is still a huge variety of composers you could connect with, so hold on!)

Johann Sebastian Bach: If you liked the Bach excerpts, there is good news and bad news. Bach wrote lots of concertos, about a dozen, in addition to the famous Brandenburg Concertos, a set of 6 that hearkens back to an earlier style of concerto called a Concerto Grosso written for performance in noble houses, which contrasted a small group of expert musicians with a larger group of (probably part-time) musicians who played essentially easier portions which were repetitive and less intricate. By the time Bach got his hands on this form, there were really no easy portions in the works. One of the most famous Brandenburgs is No. 5 in D major, featuring a virtuoso harpsichord part.

In spite of all this, the major portion of Bach's output was for the Church, in the form of the great Cantatas he wrote for performance at Sunday services. If you like choral music, you should begin to look at Bach's choral music, which set a standard for choral music throughout the modern era (even though Beethoven, Handel, Haydn and Mozart made very important contributions, too). Finally, Bach wrote four fabulous Suites for Orchestra which are grand and brilliant, intended to bring the grandeur of Versailles to the smaller German courts of the 18th century. It is hardly possibly to dislike these Suites, which consist of a grand opening movement, followed by a set of a half-dozen old-time dances. Here is an example.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: The music of Mozart is puzzling in its mixture of simplicity and complexity. It is possible to love this music, then become bored with it, and then hear it again and fall in love with it a second time, and be completely baffled that you missed things in it all this while.

The Mozart Piano Concertos: these were written just at the time when composers were beginning to see composition as an expressive vehicle, sort of similar to writing a novel: a way of both becoming famous, leaving a legacy, and showing off one's talent. In the case of Piano concertos, the performer was usually Mozart himself (occasionally a special pupil). In his younger days, Mozart was very possibly quite satisfied to write a piece more brilliant than anything written before. As he matured, though, we see thoughts and ideas in those piano concertos approaching those that came out of Beethoven. These are difficult to put into words; they are a distillation of emotions and experiences that transcend words. Some piano concertos have a certain gravity, e.g. Concerto no. 24 in C minor, played here by Andre Previn, but not sad. In contrast, the A major, no. 23, which is so sunny for most of its length, has spots that simply seem bewilderingly grief-filled. But the grief seems to pass, as if it were simply fleetingly remembered grief.

If you like Mozart, eventually (and I mean possibly months or years in the future) you must look at his operas, most notably the Marriage of Figaro. I'm not giving you a link, simply because you must wait until you really want to move into Mozart opera. Be aware that opera fans aren't often attracted to Mozart opera, but prefer Puccini or Verdi or even Wagner. (And certainly Bizet!)

If you prefer something a little more serious, but without pianos all over the place, try the Mozart Symphonies. The last two or three are the most celebrated, including the amazing "Jupiter" (no. 41) and the well-loved g minor (no. 40). (Warning; the "Jupiter" could be seriously underwhelming at first.)

Ludwig van Beethoven wrote in most instrumental forms, but when one hears the name Beethoven, one usually thinks of his symphonies. Symphonies were invented several times over; first by J.C. Bach, then by Haydn, then by Mozart, and then by Beethoven, in such a way that all subsequent developments of the genre had to prove themselves against Beethoven's nine amazing symphonies. A good one to begin with is the famous Eroica. My personal beginnings in classical music were with the famous c minor symphony, No. 5.

Felix Mendelssohn, as I said, is highly underrated as a composer, a situation which is aggravated by his very early death, at the age of about thirty, of pneumonia, I believe. Mendelssohn wrote a vast volume of chamber works, the violin concerto, string quartets, quintets (at least one, anyway,) the octet, oratorios, incidental music for plays (especially a Midsummer Night's Dream), overtures, and symphonies. He wrote symphonies for string orchestras as a kid (around 15), and later, full orchestra symphonies, more of which are being discovered in recent times. Try his overtures (Fingal's Cave) and his Italian Symphony. All his music has a certain effervescent quality which is very addictive!

Peter IlyichTchaikovsky, of course, is famed for his ballet music. He wrote several symphonies, which are not played as frequently as are his ballets (Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, The Nutcracker), and several piano concerti. It's easy to find clips of these on YouTube, to check whether any of them appeal to you. This clip from the sixth symphony presents a very unusual waltz-like movement in quintuple time. It's hard to believe that it could sound so utterly natural.

Johannes Brahms wrote a large volume of piano music, several symphonies, several concerti, an "inter-denominational" requiem mass (for his mother), chamber music, choral music for a girl's choir, and several other miscellaneous pieces, including works for the organ, which are considered excellent. I'd like to suggest a short work called Variations on the St Anthony Chorale, which is a suite of variations on a hymn-tune once attributed to Haydn. (This is thought to be Brahm's very first orchestral work.) Here is the famous Hungarian Dance no 5. The majority of Brahms's works, though, are quite different from this, except for a few pieces such as the finale of the violin concerto which has a Hungarian flavor.

Antonin Dvorak wrote, in addition to his concertos, several symphonies (including From the New World, inspired by the United States of America). He, too, wrote several Slavonic Dances, which are really fabulous, and some really unique chamber works, including the Bagatelles. This one features a harmonium!

[Added later:
If you liked Robert Schumann, you should definitely listen to his piano miniatures, such as Kinderschenen. He also wrote a large number of gorgeous, atmospheric Lieder (art songs). Here is Die Lotosblume sung by Dorotea Roschmann. (I wish she had given us a less dramatic reading of it; it seems to require a more lyrical interpretation...)
[Added still later:  Here is Karita Mattila of Finland singing Die Lotoblume]

Edvard Grieg, unfortunately, is not a composer I know much about. There is a celebrated orchestral suite titled Peer Gynt, who is a popular Norwegian legendary character. You should have no trouble looking up other piano music by Grieg, as well as a number of songs. I know that Solveigg's Song is a favorite of sopranos.]

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