It Couldn't Be Any Simpler Than This

One of my current objectives is attainment of proficiency to play these pieces; the first set of Songs Without Words (Lieder ohne Worte ) by Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847), his Op 19, written in the years 1829-30 by the then 20 year old composer. There are some remarkable things going on in this music. Just to give you an idea, I'm posting links to Daniel Barenboim's capable performances:

No. 1 Andante con moto in E major

No. 2 Andante espressivo in A minor

No. 3 Molto allegro e vivace in A major ("Hunting Song")

No. 4 Moderato in A major

No. 5 Poco agitato in F-sharp minor

No. 6 Andante sostenuto in G minor ("Venezianisches Gondellied" (Venetian Boat Song No. 1) 

 

Schirmer's Standard Edition

There are eight books of six songs each of these Songs Without Words. It is usual to try and give some of them to pupils to strengthen certain perceptual and motor skills as they attain greater physical ability to play the piano, but from a performance standpoint each of the books offers a condensed set of fascinating music to challenge pianist and audience alike.

Of the six in this first book, I'm particularly partial to the fifth. This is really a condensed sonata allegro and it is stunning in design and intricate but not impossible to play. Everything in Mendelssohn seems to follow some predictable and logical basis or puzzle, once one attains it, for example the left hand stretches in the “development” section of this movement, while not impossible are not as immediately determinable on the keyboard as one might suppose. Mendelssohn might have had a naturally wider spread in his left hand than in his right as also seems evident from some of his writing.

In style, there are a few things he shares with Schumann, but I see a basis for Mendelssohn's style in Beethoven and Bach with a hint from Mozart to try and stay within bounds. The "bounds of exuberance" one encounters in the second half of the first, the entire third, the “hymn in the village in the deep Alpine valley” of the fourth, the compact use of so much subtlety in the famous sixth, are all the unique personal touches of this composer. These are piano vignettes that together may take a year or so to learn and play comfortably and a lifetime to learn to interpret.

I certainly like Barenboim's preferences as inspiration for a starting place, although what I have in mind is more a combination of ardour and conviction as in this music we are in that critical cusp of styles that included Chopin, Schumann and Liszt. I also have Perri Knize  to thank for the inspiration to investigate these pieces. I certainly wish her all the best as she may be studying these pieces herself or has already done so. May I in turn recommend to her and of course others, the work of that “Chopin of the North,” Edvard Grieg. His Lyric Pieces are in many respects the direct outgrowth of what Mendelssohn so ably planted; the idea of incorporating groups of piano pieces in books issued periodically throughout a composer's career, notebooks of pianistic achievement during a time in which naturalistic and realistic portrayal of human emotion was a paramount consideration, a preference and an understanding of which seem so foreign to most these days.  

Henle's Urtext Edition

I usually set at least three of these pieces to go through at least once and sometimes twice in one half hour practice session at the piano.  I'm still learning them but am in process of committing them to memory now, so I will work with and without the music.  But what is critical is to avoid over-kill.  When that happens, I get up form the piano and do something else, because I do not want any impressions made on my subconscious mind that would distract me from learning how best to perform these often deceptively easy pieces  (they aren't easy).  The editions pictured are the most often encountered edition (Schirmer's) and the best printed one (Henle) to my knowledge.   

FINIS

Eighth Interview – Going Out On A Limb

Sibelius and His World: Silence & Influence

We should get a few things out of the way. You were able to attend a concert last Sunday, at Bard College ...

Yes. Just down the road …

The last concert in this year's Bard Music Festival: the theme was Jean Sibelius again. My, this certainly seems a Sibelius summer.

Laughs.

You can't imagine the effect this concert had on me. By the end as we stood watching the torrents of rain pour down outside, I was just trying to keep myself from bursting into tears. To have heard the 7^th Symphony and Tapiola played live, and played magnificently by the American Symphony Orchestra under the apparently gifted baton of Leon Botstein, was almost beyond my capacity to respond to in words.

The program also included Vaughn-Williams' 5^th Symphony and the 1^st Symphony of Samuel Barber.

… which proved a few things conclusively: Samuel Barber has often received scathing criticism from people who are no better for their work or words, and this first Barber Symphony is a better piece than most might believe, especially when played as well as this orchestra played it, no doubt due to Botstein's deliberate, tough, stark stroked, no holds barred interpretation.

Nevertheless …

Nevertheless this symphony was written by a young man while the 7^th of Sibelius was written by a man near my own age with the experience of having written the previous six symphonies behind him. Above everything else Sibelius' 7^th is a mature piece of music best intended for those with mature emotions.

… and so you didn't think Barber's piece was as good as Sibelius'.

No way! In fact the Vaughn-Williams symphony wasn't as good either. These pieces were clearly inspired by Sibelius, but neither used the ideas behind Sibelius' unique orchestral style nearly as well. Barber's deficiency was in both his youthful exuberance and that he overcrowded his orchestration so much so that even as good as the ASO played it (about as good as it gets), it just couldn't have stood up against anything Sibelius wrote.

You told me you were surprised by discovering that Sibelius was an alcoholic probably suffering from either chronic depression or manic depressive syndrome.

Well I think there might be a terrible idea that might take root in people's imaginations; that great classical composers wouldn't have been able to produce what they did unless they were abused as children (Beethoven), orphaned as a child (Bach), or suffering manic depressive syndrome and self treating with alcohol and cigars (Sibelius).

I don't like the idea either. But aren't you suggesting that without some hardship, nothing of greatness usually results and demonstrating it by your examples?

There were materially successful composers, probably no more or less as a percentage than in any other trade. A few were miserably poor. Some had runs of both at various stages of their lives. But aside from judgement by today's standards about how much money one has, how much one will be able to retire on, day to day standard of living concepts, there's the music they produced, much of which verges on either the priceless or the metaphorically ecstatic and transcendental as to be in a category apart from all other categories.

The religious?

Nodding in the affirmative.

To hear and be one with certain aching phrases in the Sibelius 7^th is almost to transcend that moment and to comprehend answers to whole lifetimes of suffering and joy, to know the ache in the heart of every mother, every lover, the anguish of the infinite itself. It's almost too much to bear.

And this is considered mere entertainment?

If one is a real die-hard philosophical materialist, great music as we know it is scarcely that. One would hear it differently, would never get it at all, never mind the heights or depths as I have attempted to describe these states of awareness. And it may not make them less human for not getting it, for that's not for me to say, I can have no ultimate judgement.

Oh, I just have to ask; how did they play Tapiola?

Menacing, frightening, creepy at times; at the point in the music when it finally lets loose, Batstein drove them through it relentlessly, mercilessly, without missing a beat, among the best performances of anything I've ever heard.

Better than the 7^th?

Perhaps, if that's possible. During much of it I couldn't make up my mind whether the forest Sibelius was describing was Dracula's or a metaphor for the modern world about to face a day of reckoning. 

[ Insert: Jean Sibelius: Tapiola (Complete) Berliner Philharmoniker - Järvi ]

Classical Music & Snobbery

You have discussed with me the supposed relationship between classical music and snobbery and wanted to touch on it head on.

The subject comes up once in a while. Classical music, as every human activity, is not any more free of “human all too human problems.” John Bell Young wrote me a while back and described a kind of experiment of his to try and provoke controversial discussions about classical music (which might have led somewhere) on on-line forums, only to discover that a high percentage of those who would be among classical music's audience, were apparently into it for reasons that have nothing to do with the essence of the art's purpose or importance for those who pursue it.

Something about fascism and people wanting to be fascists.

It got down to it being more important to win arguments and establish bandwagons people would willingly jump onto, as if these discussions were matters of winning or losing, demonstrating some surprisingly weak egos, etc.

But what is classical music's purpose? Can't let you get away with slipping that in without explaining it.

All right.  To begin with, classical music is about preserving musical treasures, at this point there are mountains of these treasures and yes some have yet to be adequately mined. Beyond that classical music usually finds people from all walks of life who eventually “get it” and prefer it to all other music.

But this does not make it better than other music.

There have been a few books written about it. John gave me some references, and I do intend to read them, but there has been so much going on lately that I haven't gotten time to dig them up and read them. Here's the basis for the snobbery, that if you like classical music, or even play it, you are expressing a preference for the traditional pastimes of the socially more prominent and therefore would have a station from which to look down upon others. We are lucky that this is usually not the case, especially among the musicians themselves, many of whom though erudite and consummate professionals in other fields (doctors, lawyers, dentists, accountants, teachers, etc.) do not pursue their musical lives for anything more or less than the privilege of being able to play the music. We also know many who came from quite humble origins. But what it all amounts to is that we know what we like, what we love and what we value as imperishable for the appreciation of the whole human race.

So it's really about feeling …

It's about everything … and sometimes there is NOTHING like a live performance to make that connection happen, the music will take your breath away, if and when you are open to it.

So there really is no basis for snobbery in regard to classical music.

No, there shouldn't be. It's open to everyone and there are plenty of places to hear live performances. We should also support our musician friends by attending their concerts whenever possible. It's just that we don't hear nearly as much classical music as other music out in public. We aren't exactly trying to push our music on anyone, and that's a good thing, but just because we understand and like what we play or listen to, does not mean everyone must or will see the point of us devoting ourselves to it as we invariably must if we're truly hooked.

You also discovered that your friend Mr. Young was quite handicapped, how did that make you feel?

John Bell Young is a consummate pianist, by which I mean, he's the real thing and it shows in his playing. He plays Scriabin about as well as anyone I know, and yet his hearing isn't the best. He and I are both visually impaired though I bet he sees better than I do. But anyway, I felt deeply humbled and maybe a bit reprimanded by the universe for not having devoted myself nearly as much as John has to music. As I remarked many times to my mentors and associates over the years, perhaps things would have gone better for me if I'd just stuck to playing the piano.

But you had to know the truth.

Yeah, I had to be inquisitive about perhaps too many things, know what was going on, become informed, etc.

But you aren't getting into any of that, are you?

No, not immediately. I am thinking about doing something else.

The Literary Project
[UPDATE 10/6/15: I have decided to publish this work through Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) so it will no longer appear here per their agreements.  When a link to it is available, it will be posted here.  Thank-you to all who have shared an interest in this work.)

Just how do you want to get this rolling?

How about by telling everyone that I have written a book, a novel, the genre would be science-fiction, mystery adventure. It takes place in 2004, about the time I wrote it. If I were to publish it, it would run around 640 pages.

Have you tried to get it published?

I approached a publicist friend a few years ago, but he wasn't interested in the genre.

So you are going to serialize this work on this website beginning in September. How much of it will be free?

It will be free for the time being. I want to find out what the response is before I decide to charge anyone anything. Times are tough and fiction is cheaper than ever. If I decide to charge for it, I'll make it cheap enough that those who like it can read it for as they say, a song. Of course I'd love to be discovered and have my work circulated more widely, and reap the benefits from that too, but for the time being this will have to do.

Well, how are you getting this started? I mean, what is the story about?

It's intended to be a kind of “adult” Harry Potter and by “adult” I don't necessarily mean pornographic. It's better to suggest than to visually describe in lurid details anyway.

But it will have some romance?

Yes. And it's also intended to substitute for easily more tedious and boring essays on society, economics and politics, which I might have written to express similar concepts as appear in this book.

It's not about the same subject matter as Harry Potter is it?

Magic? No, not at all. In fact the most significant difference between Harry Potter and what I have created is that all my characters except one are adults not children.  The story has more in common with works involving what happens to castaways, including The Wizard of Oz or Lost Horizon, but it's not those stories either.

How did you come to write this book?

I was on assignment in the Bahamas and its broad outlines were part of my dreams one night while I was there. I decided that as soon as I returned home I would begin writing it down to see what it would become.

And 640 pages and so many years later ...

I really finished it in the fall of 2007 and have edited some of it since.

But when it appears here it will be “official” and finished?

Yes.

OK, then so what is this story about?

It's about an abduction of an oceanographic research vessel and its passengers and crew to an Earth like planet farther away in the universe than anyone imagines possible.

By whom?

By The Protector, a being / machine from a previous extinct human civilization. It was originally conceived as a planetary defence system, from asteroids, but since it was a conscious being as well as a machine and had sufficient time and resources to discover new techniques with which to scan the universe and, as it were, to create transit beams across time and space, it eventually found Earth and began to capture people in serious trouble and rescue them by bringing them to his planet to restart human civilization.

So it has a gender.

It usually communicates to humans as a hologram of an old man in a toga.

Really?

Yeah, well that's just how I dreamt it.

What else do you want to tell us at this point?

It's assumed that the abductees will never get home, but in two years they eventually all get sent back to Earth.

So what's special about this planet?

It's populated by humans form four principal sources; people periodically rescued from Earth, people from a more technically advanced race of humans on another closer planetary system, some people from a planetary system doomed by its exploding sun who were rescued before that event and scattered among humanoid colonies on many planets and finally a distinct race of humans from perhaps the closest planet inhabited by humans who have six fingers and toes and other unusual attributes.

What's the name of the planet where your story takes place?

The human inhabitants are limited to only one continent on the entire planet, the others being uninhabitable. This continent is called Mindora [MIN-door-a]. There is some play on the concept of a golden mind that is incorruptible. Since they never get off this continent, and surprisingly few deem it necessary to go travelling through space, they usually refer to their planet and their continent by the same name. It is orbited by two much smaller, more rapidly moving satellites, each much smaller than Earth's moon.

But there is also something else too.

Yes, everyone has the ability to read everyone else's mind, if they are physically close enough. The abductees become aware of this universally shared ability and soon acquire the same abilities as the natives.

So in the beginning they are at everyone's mercy. There is no privacy and they can never get home again, how horrible!

No, it isn't like that. You'll see.

So they eventually get to go home. What happens to this mind reading ability when they return? Is it gone?

Unfortunately they still have it and the results work out differently for each of them. Most aren't too happy about it.

Why would they? They'd be considered insane here.

Yes.

Wow, so what's the point?

You mean the moral?

Nodding.

It's entertainment.

Thought provoking entertainment?

It's entertainment..

So when are we going to give the people more details?

Probably before the end of the month, I'll begin by posting the treatment which will contain sufficient details to give everyone their bearings when they begin reading the story. It will appear on its own page.

What is the title of the book?

I've provisionally called it The Linton Bequest. The story is told by the participants in a series of documents. Each of these documents, or parts thereof, will be presented in sequence (serialized) over several months.

Well I hope it does well. It might catch on. Didn't you discover just last night that most people who are avid readers read fantasy?

Yes, and believe me folks, everything I describe in my book is fantasy and I hope everyone enjoys it too.

OK then folks, look for a page called THE LINTON BEQUEST appearing on Dave's blog page, right here, very soon.

FINIS

Returning to Tanglewood – A Sibelius weekend

It really was an event, a rehearsal for that evening's concert at Tanglewood. The Boston Symphony players are clearly happy people doing what few of us can imagine doing, and the music they are making is a tradition involving people from all over the world coming to Tanglewood, usually knowing the music ahead of time and having certain expectations about what they might hear. Again, as last year, the weather was warm and wonderful. The program was to consist of pieces entirely by the great Finnish composer, Jean Sibelius (1865-1957) .

John Storgårds (a 48 year old Finnish conductor for the music of The Finnish composer) made his début at Tanglewood in fact with this particular open to the public rehearsal. One is never guaranteed a complete play-through of any of the pieces on the programme for the evening performance, though you usually get most of them.

Let's begin with Valse triste Op. 44 composed in 1903 (when the composer was 38 years old) as music for a play about Death. How fast do you usually hear this piece played? It's probably too fast. This is fantasy music about an old woman dancing with Death. It has to sound weary and tired at the beginning and Storgårds gets the phenomenal talent of the Boston Symphony Orchestra to transmit the inevitable gloom and darkness of this piece in a way seldom heard. But we didn't get to hear the whole thing. (Incidentally I have a piano transcription of this piece and I think I might actually try learning it.)

Storgårds was also not very interested in Finlandia Op. 26 composed in 1899 (when the composer was 34) but we did get to hear the terrifically rousing end of it with the powerful brass of the BSO. We loved hearing this from half the distance of our seating last year, it was really loud.

Sibelius was adept at using brass choirs to create landscapes in sound, as backdrops with the low registers in musical instruments preferred. This creates a weight and might to the sound, a coldness and density too, like snowcapped mountains seen along a horizon under a crisp clear sky. The BSO's brass are what I think of as a golden sound. Storgårds' rehearsal of Sibelius' Symphony #5 in E Flat Op. 82 composed between 1915 and 1919 (Sibelius was 54 years old in 1919) seemed to be about layers, the strings, the woodwind parts, always wonderfully written by Sibelius, and then of course the brass. This is music that has always seemed to me about forces of Nature more than anything to do with humanity specifically. There are here and there some folksy elements, but this is stunningly transcendent music. Is it really cold music or is that a mere useless canard associated with Sibelius' ethnic associations? We didn't think so. Dark? Yes, certainly some of it is quite dark, though of course there are exceptions, especially in his writing for solo woodwinds as they appear in many of his symphonies. Sibelius style remains unique and enigmatic. Things sort of swerve around in terms of tonal centres, they even overlap each other deliberately. No, the orchestra isn't playing wrong notes. Sibelius is asking us to hear things differently, almost visually, and in terms including the vantage points of jumping fish in magic pools or of birds flying through seamless air. I've no doubt that Storgårds more official début at Tanglewood featuring this same programme will be noteworthy due to his interpretation of this symphony.

Sibelius' Violin Concerto in d Op. 47, written when the composer was 38 or 40, during the same period as Valse triste, was played through. It turns out that a lot of the shmalz in this work is based on Sibelius failure to satisfy his own personal desire to become a great concert violinist, which was not fated to be because as he came to understand it, he lacked both the physical coordination and the psychological aptitude. "It was a very painful awakening when I had to admit that I had begun my training for the exacting career of a virtuoso too late," he said. There are a lot of tear jerking parts to this one, but is this really only the intensity borne of not being able to become a great violinist? We're asked to consider the depths of emotional pain due to an unfulfilled lifelong dream that remained unrealised. The music seems too intense for something like that, but many things are certainly possible.

The violinist Nikolaj Znaider who played this very soloistic violin concerto has a similar background to that of the conductor, but the conductor, Storgårds, seemed to present him to the orchestra, as well as the audience, as if to say, “listen to him do this one, he'll amaze you.” Znaider's style was closer to Jasha Heifitz or Zino Francescatti, a sort of hot spun gold sound. I appreciated being able to hear clearly the unusual angular phrasing in the violin lines without the usual scraping and scratching of the really heavy bowers that swash-buckle the violin concert stage these days. The violin Znaider played was one that had been Fritz Kreisler's, a Guernari del Jesu violin from the 1740's or 271 years or so ago. Can one imagine it? This violinist is hot stuff! Simply stunning! 

 

Some time later, returning to my place, I entertained my guest with recordings of Sibelius' symphonies 4 through 7, three my friend had never heard before. Later when discussing what we'd experienced all weekend, we began asking seriously whether Sibelius was putting us on, whether in fact he had indeed had the last laugh, dared to compose his really “out of the box” music and after all the joke was on us. As was the case with Bartók's music, weren't we being asked to follow the composer into some curious if not questionable territories? There are lurid outcries in Sibelius' 4^th, strange combinations in his 5^th with that priceless and frankly silly conclusion, there is mastery in his 6^th, probably my overall favourite among Sibelius symphonies, but there is everything the others had plus a deep inconsolable ache in the 7^th, his last symphony.  Sibelius was probably right to think it inadvisable to put out anything after that unless he could write something better. He has in fact been criticized for quitting before he was dead, which now seems a little idiotic, when in fact he wrote his last symphony at the age of 59 after at least three decades of hard work (and if you think musical composition isn't hard work for most who dare attempt it, think again!). Isn't 30 years of it long enough? Even if you or I are the only people still listening, fortunately not the case, would anything have justified saying more than this 7^th symphony does so well about the heroism and yet the tireless longing of the human race for something more, something better? 

Here's what Sibelius looked like in 1939, at the age of 74, making a rare appearance a year earlier conducting his Andante Festivo (written originally for string quartet in 1922), and he still had 17 more years to live, but he wouldn't be caring much about music by then and didn't like talking about it much after consigning many papers and who knows how many unfinished compositions to the flames in 1945 when he was 80 years old and still had 11 more years to live. 

We recall to general public awareness in this blog from time to time the many disparities between composers, for instance a Mozart who composes virtually his entire greatness within ten years, while a Sibelius is granted much more time. We get two different kinds of music as well. 

I could have put anything or nothing to listen to in this entry. The Boston Symphony Orchestra played or rehearsed great parts of the 5^th at Tanglewood, but have a serious listen to this, Sibelius' last symphony, written near the end of his career as a composer:

Karajan: Sibelius Symphony no. 7 (1/3)

Karajan: Sibelius Symphony no. 7 (2/3)

Karajan: Sibelius Symphony no. 7 (3/3)

Herbert von Karajan's performance still holds up reasonably well. This is a complete four movement romantic symphony deliberately smashed into one titanic movement comprising everything in the usual sequence one usually expects in the themes and moods in what I really think is one of the unsung gems of the entire symphonic repertoire, this final great symphony of Jean Sibelius, completed in 1924 is.in a way a cousin to Mahler's unfinished 10^th symphony written exactly 100 years ago this year, though it took longer for Deryck Cooke to finish and even longer to gain acceptance. I guess it makes a difference when the composer is granted time to live long enough to retire from music and see his works gain status in the world's orchestral repertoire independent of himself. But when I consider the music of the composers of 100 years ago I often ask myself just how much the audiences are getting out of what in most cases is more emotionally sophisticated than momentary plays on our quick responses to sound impressions, note sequences suggesting susceptible mood changes, plus all the technique involved in getting it to sound as intended which is itself always surprising, thrilling or simply astounding.

All in all, this weekend offered us a good chance to return to Tanglewood (a place we still regard as sacred ground) and to have another glimpse at the music of Jean Sibelius, one of our favourite composers of all time.

PS: For the interested, this brief interview concerning Sibelius' symphonies as a project of the Berlin Philharmonic under Simon Rattle, who is one of my favorite conductors at this point in time.  He seems to say that the orchestra had been unfamiliar with this music, but hadn't
Herbert von Karajan done the Sibelius cycle with this orchestra?  That would seem to have been ancient history.  Rattle reports an excellent response to his re-introduction to this music.  We earnestly look forward to the fruits of this collaboration.  Rattle said that the orchestra regarded Sibelius as one of the six greatest symphonists of all time (I can guess who some of the others might be).  I think it's a fair assessment to consider Sibelius' contributions to symphonic literature among the very greatest of all time.  

FINIS  

York Bowen – The English Rachmaninoff

There were a few loose ends to tie up from my last visit to New York. One concerned a composer, previously unknown to me; York Bowen (1884-1961), a composer of some 155 works, a pianist with vast talents, an accomplished musician on many fronts. The first time I had any opportunity to hear anything by Bowen was from an English pianist named Simon I met while upstairs at Beethoven's in New York. Simon was playing on a Hailun HG 198 grand  to good advantage, as it responded to everything he tried on it with apparent ease.

Of York Bowen's music, it would in some cases cause you to think it's perhaps something by Rachmaninoff you haven't heard yet, as Rachmaninoff wrote a great deal of music most people haven't heard yet, myself included. But it isn't; there's also some scent of Arnold Bax (1883-1953), or of an even a more obscure English or Irish composer, as there were some a hundred years ago or so, as the English and Irish woke up from their cultural delusion about the value of making music, having left it to foreigners for as long as 200 years.

For a first taste of it, a comparatively late work, written in 1957, Bowen's Toccata Op, 155, which is apparently quite popular among aspiring virtuoso pianists because it's obviously quite difficult to play. One realizes as a pianist that the most complex strings of notes in this piece are only a series of connected shorter movements of fingers, hands, wrists, arms, shoulders, waist and legs, with appropriate breathing. For the listener, there is much that can be gained from being able to listen to several versions of the same piece, which is how one gets to “know” or at least recognize a piece of music. For those who listen, but do not play a musical instrument, you can imagine just what is required for a pianist to “learn” a piece of music well enough to play it, whether pianists decide to read from the music as they play or do it completely from memory (as each one must decide how best to pull off the best performance they are comfortable with). As for musical style, there is much emulation of Ravel and Debussy, perhaps even of Prokofiev.

So here are examples of this piece:

SABRINA KOZAK plays Toccata Opus 155 by YORK BOWEN

An apparent piano virtuoso in the making (following a long tradition of promoting child prodigies, for the good or ill it does to music), this young lady certainly knocks out all this composition's contours very nicely. This superb performance should serve to challenge all of us. (By the way, her teacher, Kevin Fitz-Gerald, has a long association with the Newport Music Festival, where he has acquitted himself very nicely to many great masterpieces of the Classical and Romantic – still don't like the terms – piano repertoire, so I am not surprised this young lady played this well.)

York Bowen - Toccata, Op. 155 (1957) Hojoon

This seems a bit more of a studied performance, very clear definite phrasing. I do not know who Hojoon is, but he plays this very well indeed.

Bowen Toccata, Op. 155, Alison Chang

Yet another version, notice how smooth she has made all the phrases you might have thought of as pointed, while listening to the previous versions.

Obviously interest in this composer should be on the increase because those of us around the world who are interested in this art form with the passion accorded to a life's work, a religious understanding or something perhaps even deeper, and Bowen left a great many pieces of music, large scale works, which have not received the attention they deserve. But as Mahler said of his own works, “my time will come,” so does this apply to the largely undiscovered work of York Bowen, the English Rachmaninoff.

FINIS

Discovering Leif Ove Andsnes – A Pianist After My Own Heart!

 Leif Ove Andsnes - Grieg (Mountain Top)

A friend in France, a piano teacher at a conservatory there, posted a link to a documentary this pianist had done, of which there were supposed to be 8 parts. Well, actually I was only able to find the last 6 and the complete documentary he did. The entire thing doesn't appear on the internet yet so I will have to find it and view it in its entirety, since it is so good. Before this, I'd never heard of him, but then he was born in 1970.

Andsnes, or Leif Ove as he seems to prefer, is among other things a proponent and exponent of the music of Edvard Grieg (1843 – 1907). He has recorded the Lyric Pieces on Grieg's own Hamburg Steinway B, the kind that used to have raised lettering on the signature Steinway diagonal spur in the plate of the piano. It's Grieg's birthday on the 15^th of this month, so Grieg's music is now well over 100 years old and still holds up remarkably well.

And of course, wouldn't you just know it, he has played one of the truly underrated gems in the piano literature, Grieg's eternal and unforgettable Notturno:

Notturno - Edvard Grieg, lyric pieces op.54 no.4

Leif Ove's documentary was important in many respects, it was beautiful – using many scenes from Norway, it conveyed Leif Ove's view of pianism, as including the qualities of silence as much as sound, indeed Leif Ove says that we are overloaded with sound and cannot endure silence, that we need to listen for silence, for what it does to clear the mind and bring relaxation, inspiration, etc. He also spoke of the sound during the moments of a piece as being as significant as the whole piece, of the notes constructing an enclosure for the silence inside, all sorts of wonderful ideas which he could execute as he plays in what I must say is a deeply poetic style to my hearing as well as being technically precise. You can hear the way he has paid attention to this idea of musical moments as in this piece:

Watchman's song - Edvard Grieg lyric pieces op.12 no.3

This awareness of episodic sound qualities in the music he plays enables Andsnes to learn the most complex music as if he's breaking everything apart into moments and then stringing them together. The effects produced are in some instances unfamiliar, but always effective and often more satisfying to the ear and the mind. The documentary shows some of Leif Ove's preparation for his première in St. Petersburg, Russia in the same beautiful concert hall featured in a previous post about Gustav Mahler's Fifth Symphony played there. His ambitious choice, the Third Piano Concerto of Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873 - 1943) , which is my favourite of his concertos for among other reasons that it was written to be premièred in New York. 

Well, I couldn't find that performance anywhere either, but there is this one he played with the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Lionel Bringuier, who I've never heard of either.

What you are going to hear is remarkable, as if all of the various sinews of Rachmaninoff's music are made distinct and have their unique and personal moment for you and everyone else to appreciate them. This includes the ways Leif Ove mingles the piano's line with those in the surrounding orchestra as Leif Ove says, and I agree, this work is splendidly orchestrated. Here is a frank reading, not overly gushing as some play it, completely on top of it technically, played in the same spirit as if this were Bach almost, so precise but more letting you have just that little extra time to hear everything. At times the sense of it is so thrilling that you are more sure than anything that you have heard a new and distinct way of interpreting not just this concerto but all the rest of Rachmaninoff as once Byron Janis' interpretation thrilled me. .Just listen to this man play the piano!  What he does is often breathtaking!

Rachmaninov's 3rd pianoconcert - Leif Ove Andsnes - 1:5

Rachmaninov's 3rd pianoconcert - Leif Ove Andsnes - 2:5

Rachmaninov's 3rd pianoconcert - Leif Ove Andsnes - 3:5

Rachmaninov's 3rd pianoconcert - Leif Ove Andsnes - 4:5

Rachmaninov's 3rd pianoconcert - Leif Ove Andsnes - 5:5

It should be duly noted that in most instances Leif Ove Andsnes is shown playing Steinway pianos, more than likely built in Hamburg. They are very difficult to beat at producing just what he wants. However the piano he used for the Mountain Top shots was a Bösendorfer as they have a distinct tail design no one else uses. CORRECTION: I took another look at the piano and got a good look at the fallboard and the name on it revealed it to be an old Ibach grand!  Alas, Ibach, once the oldest piano making business in family hands for six generations had to call it quits a few years back.  They are still great pianos! 

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ELIICA

ELIICA, an electric supercar, is quite a story. Of those whose passion was evident in the making of this story in the videos which appear on You Tube, I want it to be known that we are impressed with your achievements, that we share your great and obvious happiness in what you have accomplished, and we look forward to greater things from you in the years ahead. Congratulations from friends around the world who you will be helping!

Enjoy this incredible story.

Eliica - Super Electric Car - Part 1 of 5

Eliica - Super Electric Car - Part 2 of 5

Eliica - Super Electric Car - Part 3 of 5

Eliica - Super Electric Car - Part 4 of 5

Eliica - Super Electric Car - Part 5 of 5

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Walking Into Massachusetts from New York

“In memory of my wife Desiree Pardi

an amazing woman, loving wife, caring doctor, a true gift

'This moment shall never come again – embrace it.”

October 29, 1967 – September 6, 2009

This plaque is affixed to a bench on the trail in Taconic State Park, New York. It was I am sure placed there through some special bequest, signifying as it were to the rest of the passing world, that someone had found this place among the most blessed on earth. (I even wondered if perhaps the ashes of the dearly beloved young Dr. Pardi might not be scattered about?) A blessed place, where everyone along the path was friendly and the path would have been passable to all able bodied: at least it seemed that way to us, my friend from the city and I, as we walked the path leading to variously named Bash Bish falls, or Copake Falls, the tallest falls in Massachusetts accessible only by this trail from New York. That trail starts here:

This past winter had been cold and the first parts of spring cool and rainy. The canopy of foliage and the swift running stream in the comfortable air invigorated with plenty of oxygen as you walk the faily easy path which leads to the falls.

The water was very clear and the air filled with the sounds of falling water, the rush of the stream a continual gushing susurus.

And as we walk along, my friend and I spoke of the legend behind this place, a Mohican legend, concerning a woman named Bash-Bish who had been unfaithful to her husband and forced into a canoe to be thrown over the falls when she was supposedly rescued through the aegis of a cloud of white butterflies.  

Bish-Bash escaped for a while but eventually came back where she was married to a chief or strong man of the tribe.

But try as they might, Bish-Bash and her husband couldn't conceive. Meanwhile from the first marriage, Bish-Bash had given birth to a daughter called White Swan. This daughter eventually come of age but had been rebuffed by her first love.

Then, you come to the border and this sign welcoming you into Massachusetts.

Then it's not long and you see the falls through the trees. I've seen the biggest at Yosemite in California, so these are really small falls to me, but the last time I was here, it was the end of summer and the falls, the stream, everything seemed to be carrying less water. So this day, the 4^th of June of 2011, turned out to be one of the best times to come here, in spite of the mottled grey overcast sky and mild inconclusive temperatures. You never know here at any time whether you'll have rain or sunshine.

Finally, Bash-Bish Falls, aka Copake Falls, the highest natural falls in Massachusetts, where legend has it that a Mohican maiden and her daughter chose a mutual suicide pact to bring to ends their unhappy lives. The chief or strong man married to Bash-Bish supposedly dove in to the pool below the falls to try and save them, but he died in the process and neither woman's body was ever recovered. Again, the cloud of white butterflies seemed to be involved, de-materializing them.

Thus it was that I returned to this falls, maybe fifteen years since my last visit. We were struck by the kindness of the people on the trail, by the kindness of the benches here and there along the trail, which would be easy enough for most senior citizens in good health. Sometimes a musician needs a little immersion in nature. I was certainly thinking of phrases from the music I am attempting to add to my repertoire as I walked up and back (or in and out of the gorge in which the falls is situated in the low old Taconic mountains which are hills everywhere else). Every now and then, we need to get away to refresh ourselves.

FINIS