Music of the Great Composers - César Franck (1822-1890)

We now come to the first in a pair of musicians who were best known during their lifetimes as organists, though they are remembered these days for the music they composed for other instruments. César Franck (imagine having Caesar for a first name all your life!) was born in the city of Liège, which was under control of the Netherlands when he was born, later becoming part of the kingdom of Belgium. Some perhaps have regarded Franck as the first Belgian composer of international recognition, but realistically his art lies totally within the French musical orbit, besides which, as anyone who knows Belgium at all well, the Belgians have no national culture of their own. Come on now, César Franck was a French composer even more than the other composer with a French last name who was “more Polish than Poland.” In fact, we will suggest that being a recognized French composer had more to do with one's direct participation in French culture than actually being born in the bosom of French soil.

Franck was given his exalted sounding name by an ambitious father, who it is assumed wished his son to go out there and conquer the world and bring fame and fortune home to his family. We know of many such persons in music and sport, who had to endure similar family tensions. His full given name was, César-Auguste-Jean-Guillaume-Hubert Franck (Caesar-Augustus John William Hubert Franck). He would dispense with all that and become just César Franck.

He had some difficulty establishing himself as a French composer because he wasn't born and raised in France. So, it was tough to get in even if one spoke French, though probably not the Parisian variety, which is the only one that ever counts. Franck's father got his sons provisional French citizenship as required to attend the Paris Conservatoire in those days. Very oddly, he would later in life have to go through the whole bureaucratic process again in order to get a teaching job there.

Through whatever difficulties he faced, Franck remained a very mild mannered, even shy person, who established himself within two typically French institutions; THE music academy of music academies, the Paris Conservatoire and the Church, as an organist, but not as an ordained religious (as had been Franz Liszt).

Franck's life begins within a family run by ambitious parents who send their artistically promising son to the local music school. He performs his first concerts at the age of 12, one before the new king of Belgium. Since Mozart's day, many ambitious parents had dreamed that their son would be as gifted, so they could tour them around Europe as a “wonder child” and make lots of money. The more modern idols of his day had been Liszt and Thalberg. But it wasn't to be. Instead, young César (age 13) was taken to Paris, along with his younger brother Joseph (a violinist). They took music lessons and performed popular music concerts around Paris and became somewhat successful. The music they played was probably incidental dance music, salon music of the times, rather than anything classical or weighty.

The Franck brothers entered the Paris Conservatoire in 1837: César was fifteen and his brother Joseph even younger. César got the first prize in piano his first year and kept up his performance skills while there. He begins his musical life as a pianist, but wants to be a composer and win the same prize Hector Berloz worked so hard to finally win; the Prix de Rome, which entitled the winner to an all expenses paid year in Rome to study art and, it was hoped, write some exemplary musical composition while there.

But César's plans were hampered and eventually broken by his father who during this period was always a factor, demanding that César teach private students and give concerts. In fact his father got directly involved in promoting his sons' musical efforts, much to the disgust of Parisian music critics. Franck's father eventually demanded César and his brother leave Paris and return to Belgium, just two months before César turned 20. There were no prospects in Belgium so within two years his father takes César (and his brother) back to Paris where he is ordered to teach students and give concerts.

In the 1840's César is writing what he considers his first serious compositions. We are fortunate to have access to a good performance of the first of these; Trio Concertant No. 1 in F sharp minor, Op. 1 #1, for piano, violin and cello (1840). The players are Sviatoslav Richter (piano), Oleg Kagan (violin) and Natalya Gutman (cello) recorded in 1983 in Moscow. This piece is in three movements.
 

I. Andante con moto
II. Allegro molto
[PART 1]
[PART2]

III. Finale: Allegro maestoso

While there are occasional traces of stylistic elements that certainly derive from Beethoven, there is more space, more atmosphere, a bigger texture, almost symphonic. Franck had huge hands and a tremendous pianistic technique. A nice gliding series of octaves or chords would have been nothing for him. The second movement elides into the tortuous finale, where the effect he seems to want to accomplish is … to express what it is like to live under the rigours of an oppressive father who may be lurking as a menacing force behind the scenes, occasionally stomping forth to upset things. When that force is not present, the mood seems to become more relaxed, more spatial and happier, though sort of long winded near the end. It's quite a strong work, and promises much more to come from this 18 year old composer.

But as his chance to become a famous (and well paid) travelling concert artist doesn't seem very likely, as he is now no longer a child and the critics, either because of his father or other considerations, just aren't interested, Franck retired from the public limelight to become a teacher and accompanist.

One of César's students is a girl from a theatrical family, who he had known while at the Conservatoire. His friendship with this girl and her family enraged his father. Things finally come to a head in the summer of 1846. César is 23 and according to French law his father has the right to forbid their marriage until his son is 25, so he takes all his belongings out of his parents' place and moves in with his girlfriend's family who welcome him. César intended from that time to make a clean break from his father. He waits until he is 25, informs his father that he would marry the girl and does so in early 1848 while the February Revolution brought the Orleans monarchy to an end. Apparently his parents were sufficiently reconciled to his marriage that they showed up and signed the guest register. It was a successful marriage by the way, but I was unable to find any pictures of his wife and children.

During this time Franck was also set on the course to become a professional organist, having gained a position at his local church. A succession of promotions over the next few years strengthened this professional trajectory until he became really the most famous organist since J. S. Bach and a link in a succession of French organ composers reaching into the 20^th century. He loved his Cavaillé-Coll designed organ which he said made him feel as if in command of a great orchestra. It may come as a surprise to modern organists that back in those days most organs really didn't have a full range of pedals as they do now. Franck worked with those who were among the first outside Germany to have expanded pedal boards installed on French organs. More than that, he expanded his own experience especially with pedalling, improved the rest of his organ technique and toured France to demonstrate new techniques on older French organs. Eventually he would hear Antron Bruckner (the other great organist of this period who comes next in this series) and learn how to play the German organ masters. His regular students are interested in playing the organ but increasingly also in Franck's compositions.

The organ at St. Clotilde in Paris
where Franck was an organist for most of his career

In 1869, about the same time he hears Bruckner play the organ, the 47 year old Franck begins work on a major composition, an oratorio choral setting of the Beatitudes. Work on it is delayed by the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71 and the complete work is not performed until after Franck's death. It is his longest work, lasting about 2 hours. Modern recordings of this work exist with stellar casts but it is not often performed.

The Franco-Prussian war had a profound effect on France and on Franck and his family. Poverty brought on by the war also scattered many of his pupils, a few might even have died. The trend for an Ars Gallica or art that could be distinctly French was growing. We have seen in the two previous posts in this series how nationalism became a growing trend during this period exemplified by Wagner and Verdi for Germany and Italy respectively. 

In France many of Franck's students became ardent supporters of what they wanted to consider distinctly French music, a trend that would culminate in the flowering of what became known as French Impressionism in the last decade of the 19^th century into the 20^th exemplified by the works of Debussy and Ravel. In truth, César Franck became "Père Franck", the “Papa Haydn” for a number of French composers.

In 1872, Franck is 50 and is proposed to succeed an organ teacher at the Paris Conservatoire but it is discovered that he isn't technically a French citizen and must go through all that to become one. He finally gets his post a year later. He and his students, in or out of school, become a tight knit group who will focus on what they consider to be real authentic French music to counter the new thrusts from Germany, particularly from Wagner and his students and followers.

But there is treachery and politics in academe as everywhere else and Franck's style of teaching was considered lax and unsystematic. Always a great improviser, Franck advised his students to modulate from one key centre to another as the surest means of making interesting music. His “simple and trusting nature” tended to make it seem that he was either indifferent to the criticisms of others or immune from their often malicious attacks.

After trying large and elaborate choral and orchestral pieces that never really worked, Franck instead sets about composing his great mature works. We have in Franck an example of someone who though he might have already written much in his life, really doesn't get down to it until he's already nearly an old man, and then when he does, his students are inspiring him to do daring things while his wife is concerned for his reputation with the rest of the conservatoire faculty. His students included Vincent d'Indy, Ernest Chausson, Louis Vierne, and Henri Duparc; we might call them Franck's four. They will form the Ars Galica style centred around Paris, that would blossom into Impressionism and Post-Impressionism.

Franck's mature works include the symphonic poems Le Chasseur Maudit (1882) and Les Djinns (1883–1884), the Prelude, Chorale, and Fugue for piano (1884), the Variations Symphonique (1885), and the opera Hulda (1886). Of particular note is the Piano Quintet in F minor (1879) which Camille Saint-Saëns disliked. But I'll note here that there was nothing much, if anything, that Saint-Saëns liked of Franck's compositions. Franck had given Saint-Saëns a copy of his violin sonata which supposedly he wouldn't even see, but threw in the trash.

Let's hear a really great performance of the Quintet as it is quintessential Franck. The work is in 3 movements and is here played by Jorge Bolet and the Julliard String Quartet in a recording made in 1978:

I. Molto moderato quasi lento
[PART 1] 

[PART 2]
II. Lento, con molto sentimento

[PART 1]
[PART 2]
III. Allegro non troppo, ma confuoco

The climax, the last few years of his life saw Franck's Symphony in D minor which he completed in his 66^th year, breathed new life into the idea of a truly French symphony long after the form had been neglected by most French composers. That being said, there were contemporaries of Franck's who wrote just as convincingly, and we shall inevitably encounter them, for this was the high flowering of late 19^th century French orchestral romanticism, a long neglected repertoire. For now, since this majestic symphonic gem is timeless and essential and as it established Franck's undying fame, rather than trotting out the workhorse recordings, let's hear it from people who just played it yesterday in the overall scheme of things. This symphony is in three movements:

Symphony in d minor (1888)

I. Lento; Allegro ma non troppo.

[PART 1]

[PART 2]

II. Allegretto

[PART 1]

[PART 2]
III. Finale: Allegro non troppo
[PART 1]

[PART 2]

The Duna Symphonic Orchestra was conducted by Tamás Dániel Csűry. The recording was taken on 3 June 2009 in the Great Hall of the Ferenc Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest. Bravo for them! Imagine hearing it live!

A word about this Ars Gallica period, because that's what it was after 1870 in France, after the political upheavals there and the war with Germany. From then on, there was a cleavage drawn between the followers of Wagner and what the French composers centred around Paris wanted to put forth as alternatives. Where the Germans went in for stronger even military forms and rhythms, the French style was said to be more “natural” or “naturalistic” having they said, more to do with the natural beauty of France, etc.  In some cases which we shall discuss in future posts in this series, perhaps that is even overtly true.  But in the case of much of it, Franck's symphony in particular, and other works by his students, there is every bit as much sadness, grief, angst, etc. as in the German works. It is instead of being on an epic scale, rather on an intimate scale. You feel the German music as a majestic sometimes brutal sweep of energy pass over and through you, whereas you feel the French music intuitively and personally.

To me, this symphony has always represented the expression of heroic torture, the acceptance of the suffering state of humanity, the French people, Franck and his family among them, clearly suffered the effects of their war with Germany, nevertheless surviving as a people and a nation. The composers of Ars Gallica music were certainly as nationalistic as their German counterparts. At the close of the 19^th century, nationalism was becoming a natural part of musical traditions in many nations. We will encounter them all sooner or later in these posts.

There are quite a few who are of the opinion that nationalism is always bad, that it leads to war, etc. and must be discarded in favour of some internationalism or globalism. For the sake of argument, we will just say that we sharply disagree, and believe that war has always been contrived by certain interests with ulterior motives as an excuse to ensnare and destroy nations per their whim, that nationalism per se, had little to do with anything other than to corral people into believing that their lives and livelihoods were endangered by foreigners as an excuse to have them kill and get killed during countless pointless wars.

Nationalism in art and music were inevitable, and it took on a veritable flowering during the late “romantic” period of the 19^th century. These works began as paeans to local national traditions, but were in fact swept up, championed and heard within months if not weeks of their première, all over Europe and beyond. Orchestral scores were being rented out and orchestras were forming and touring, providing a larger slice of people's musical awareness than it does now, especially in Europe of course, but even in the Americas. Yes, European orchestras began touring North and South America by the 1880's. The last 20 years of the 19^th century into the first quarter of the 20^th saw the Golden Age of this phenomenon, which produced many world renowned “star” conductors. Before leaving this point concerning nationalism, it is also a very clear pattern that frequently a composer found his chief proponents and backers among people and in nations the music was not strictly written for. Wagner had a strong following in England and America, the French very often did well in Germany and Russia. Italian opera went everywhere outside Italy and did well.

Another of César Franck's great contributions was an equivalent to a piano concerto in one movement, which is really maybe two fused together, his Variations Symphonique (1885). This was just a few years prior to his symphony, he was 62. This majestic and magical piece, also expressive of pain, sadness, doubt, wonder, mystery, humour, joy, farce all through modulation of tone centres, one of his favourite techniques, was employed throughout this thoroughly French composition!

VariationsSymphonique (1885)

Simon Grisdale played it at the 12th Soirée des Grands Amateurs de piano at the Opéra Comique in Paris, with the Orchestre de la Garde Républicaine, conducted by François Boulanger.

Eugène Ysaÿe

Franck's Violin Sonata, the Sonata in A major for Violin and Piano, of 1886, the composer's 63^rd year stands as one of perhaps a half dozen of the greatest works for this combination of instruments in the entire classical repertoire. Some stories indicate ideas for this work were in Franck's head or on paper as long as 28 years before its completion and that it was intended for, of all people, Cosima von Bülow, the illegitimate daughter of Franz Liszt and future wife of Richard Wagner. It was given instead as a wedding present for the 31-year-old violinist Eugène Ysaÿe who toured it and played it all over Europe. It was soon taken up by nearly every great violinist then and since. The work has classical structure to it, at least on the surface. It is a cyclical composition all tied together by certain thematic and harmonic ideas which culminate in something that really does seem an anthem to celebrate some kind of consolidated enterprise, a family or a nation, after of course enduring painful hardships, of course a supremely Ars Galica kind of piece too.

I. Allegretto ben moderato

II. Allegro

III. Ben moderato:Recitative-Fantasia

IV. Allegretto pocomosso

The Franck Violin Sonata played by Ray Chen,violin & Thomas Hoppe, piano, recorded at the Finals of the 2009 Queen Elisabeth International Violin Competition in Brussels. Chen is playing on 'The Macmillan' Stradivarius on loan to him through the Young Concert Artist's International Auditions. Chen currently studies at the Curtis Institute of Music under Aaron Rosand. Follow him here.  Yes, why not. Many promising musicians need encouragement and these days perhaps even more to continue working and finding an audience. His accompanist, Mr. Hoppe certainly seems technically up to the challenge too.

Organ music is not to everyone's taste, some can't help but associate it with funerals. Others regard organ music as symphonic. We have reviewed Franck's first published work, here is perhaps his last work, an organ Chorale, one of three which he was able to complete before his death. Here it is played by André Marchal (1894-1980). Organ: Grand Orgue de l'église Sainte-Eustache in Paris. Recorded in 1958:

Charale #3 in a minor (1890)
[PART 1] 
[PART 2]

In July 1890 Franck was involved in a traffic accident, riding in a cab which was struck by a horse-drawn trolley, injuring his head and causing a short fainting spell. While there seemed no after-effects; he completed his trip and considered it of no consequence. But walking became painful and he found himself increasingly obliged to absent himself first from concerts and rehearsals, and then to give up his lessons at the Conservatoire. Then following on rapidly, Franck started the new term at the Conservatoire in October, but caught a cold mid-month which turned into pleurisy complicated by pericarditis. His condition rapidly worsened and Franck died on the 8^th of November, 1890, a month short of his 68^th birthday.

Franck may go down in history as one of the least recognized of the truly great composers. His works are deep and difficult and require great forces and a great heart to bring out their best. But we trust along with anything that is worthwhile in life, that the efforts are justified by the immense musical rewards.

FINIS

A Night at the Symphony

Through the generosity of a friend, I was able to attend a performance at the Fisher Center at Bard College, a location close to where I live. The concert featured the American Symphony Orchestra, the same orchestra founded by Leopold Stokowski back in 1962. I had been able to hear this group before at the same location in performances of Sibelius, Barber and others. These were remarkable performances, especially the Sibelius 7^th, conducted then as they were at this concert, by Leon Botstein, the orchestra's music director and principal conductor, and President of Bard College. I'm certain that Botstein must be one of the busiest men in existence, his works are prodigious. His book is on my list of to reads. Judged by his past performances with this orchestra, the impression is that these people will play for him passionately and with precision in a manner to bring up to date many of the great works in the standard symphonic repertoire.

New York City has their Avery Fisher Hall. In the Hudson Valley, we have the Fisher Center, or more properly, the Sosnoff Theater, which seats 900 comfortably. It's located on the campus of Bard College. On previous occasions, including dance and opera, the house was packed. We call this an event being well attended, which is the real goal of live performance producers. The audience one would expect for a night at the symphony is on the senior side, even if the performers might be quite young. As I took pains to point out in a previous post, there is a real reason for this, directly associated with emotional maturity, something that's seemingly difficult to acquire in modern society these days.

On previous occasions our seats had been in the gods, but tonight we sat in front row seats which placed us just in front of and below the principal cellist, with an easy glance left over to the first and second violins. The conductor and his movements would all be easily visible so I would have occasion to see Maestro Botstein's particular style up close.

The music for this program was all 20^th and 21^st century; modern. Those who never attend concerts of modern music should give them a try as they are getting better all the time. Expect to be quite surprised. In this case I knew half the music being played, while there were two works to be played that I had never heard before. All were concertos.

As Professor Peter Laki attempted to point out in an optional lecture preceding the concert (we particularly liked his impromptu singing in Hungarian and Polish), a concerto has about it something involving a solo instrumentalist playing against a background or alternate chorus of other instrumentalists; soloist vs. group or band. In the concertos by Christopher Brubeck and Howard Shore, the instrumental soloists were a bass trombone and a cello, whereas in the concertos for orchestra, the entire orchestra was used periodically (or episodically) as a soloist and alternatively as the alternate chorus.

The concept of a concerto goes back a few hundred years now, to times when certain people could afford to hire string bands and other assorted instrumentalists and where soloists were encouraged to show off. Some concertos are of this particularly flashy virtuoso variety, while others notably attempt to draw the role of the soloist into the musical fabric of the orchestral background, such works usually denoted as concertos for whichever solo instrument AND orchestra.

Now enduring my criticisms, the new concertos:

Tamas Markovics played the Christopher Brubeck Bass Trombone Concerto to open the programme. The work featured a sub-group of players situated in a balcony. This technique has been used by many composers going back to Hector Berlioz. This concerto was interesting, intense and likable, but nothing about it is particularly memorable from a musical standpoint. What one likes to hear, or would in a repeat performance, is what one saw from this one; a lot of energy, well played regardless of the notes, the right attention to stylistic detail, all of which Markovics, the American Symphony and Botstein certainly knew how to deliver.

As a composition, the piece was a bit long, a bit of a jumble, with some interesting ideas that could have been scaled back a little. One element that predominated, and why not since this piece is by an American, is the sort of insouciant innocence pervading it. Maybe I just don't particularly enjoy being reminded of this uniquely American … quality, however of all possible instruments, the bass trombone is capable of executing a wide range of the more crude or savage emotions. They are real if not pretty. I liked the piece enough to recommend it, but as a composition it really rates only a B grade.

Then, Sophie Shao appeared with her beautiful cello, which one could immediately tell was something special as she began tuning it. It had belonged to Pablo Casals, who for those who might not know, was at one time the senior representative of classical music worldwide, a great cellist and a wonderful human being. What music, one wondered, would Shao, a teacher at Bard, elicit from such an instrument?

Then the Howard Shore Cello Concerto began, subtitled Mythic Gardens. I think it was only a matter of a few bars and I knew I was in for a musical catastrophe; a composition so badly conceived and written that it would be impossible to guess or even remember what if any real music was ever played by either the valiant Ms. Shao and her beautiful cello or for that matter the wonderful American Symphony Orchestra performers. I don't know what political or other ambitious foils went behind this “world premiere” but I hardly care. Others may fawn over whatever creation the movie score composer for the Lord of the Rings might come up with, I for one wont sit back apologetically and hide my contempt. It wouldn't serve the purposes of music to do so.

Ever hear opera where the most inane things are given song? It's easier to spot in musical dramas, especially those by Stephen Sondheim, who does it all the time. Ever wonder why you go to some of these things and feel a cringe? This was one element in Shore's concerto. The rest of it was about as dull, dead, dusty and needlessly arcane as possible. It wasn't even good enough to be used for some horribly trite Tim Burton (no relation) movie, not scary enough. This music was almost on purpose, needlessly dull. And it lasted of course way too long.

Here's another obvious criticism; when you are building a concerto one has to allow SPACE in the music for the soloist to be heard. This is a basic concept. Shore never applies it. Go figure. Mythic Gardens? What gardens? The myths must be pretty old, dull, tired and dusty. My guess is that this piece was intentionally intended to be something horridly academic, probably full of all kinds of clever tricks which purport to engender greater intellectual depth, or whatever. Forget it. I never want to hear this piece again. It gets an F. The orchestra and soloist should be roundly commended for enduring the tremendous bother of playing it.

Then we came to the real stuff; the two standout orchestral concertos of the now concluded 20^th century, first, before the intermission, the Concerto for Orchestra by Witold Lutosławski and then the monumental one by Béla Bartók. I have known these pieces before this concert, had even heard the Bartók played before, many years ago at the other Fisher Hall by the NY Philharmonic under Loren Maazel.

The American Symphony really aced the Lutosławski. I stood up to complement them after it was over but sat down when I realized no one else had really gotten it. There should have been a standing ovation. (The nods I received from the first chair violinists, whose instruments we could hear individually from where we were, are here gratefully acknowledged. I for one knew how accomplished your work had been, whether anyone else in the hall understood it or not.)

This composition dates from post-Stalinist times in Eastern Europe, has an undeniable prophetic and very political message, though it's delivery is covert because it had to be as the composer was working from within a totalitarian political machine. As some compositions do, this one made its composer world famous. No, the music isn't pretty; it's huge jagged and intense and rarely if ever tonal. To the uninitiated, as it seemed to someone I heard after it was over, it was as if they'd endured some vast and terrible storm. There are the three knocks, the incessant knocks at the door in the dead of night, terrifying in their implications. Lutosławski was giving us the palpable chill of the continued terrorist inhumanity of the regime he was living under and giving us all a warning ever to beware of such ever creeping into our societies.

What can one meaningfully say about the Bartók Concerto for Orchestra? Not much. It easily ranks among the greatest symphonic works of the 20^th century. It was played wonderfully. Botstein's style of conducting is conservative and looked to be particularly easy to follow, and throughout the entire evening's performances, his intentions seem clear; let the musicians play the music and define as necessary, producing a modern but definitive performance. How many ever consider that the greatest attribute of this work is its economy? You hardly ever hear anything twice and never too much of anything. The score is full of all sorts of unique ways to create spaces and atmospheres. (Lutosławski and Chris Brubeck obviously knew this, somehow it escaped the hapless Shore).

There is nothing like hearing it live. Those who haven't should start by looking into their local musical offerings, the musical groups, local symphony orchestras, who will be appearing somewhere close by. Maybe you wont hear big name performers, but then again you wont be paying big name ticket prices either. We thought it was the music which came first, not racking up celebrity sightings.

Meanwhile we also couldn't help wondering just what others who very well might be coming to hear a symphony orchestra for the first time might be experiencing. How much should they need to know to have a good time? By a good time, we don't mean by the way to be fizzed up with something remorselessly pretty or ravishingly beautiful. Music is capable of that, but most of the really great music is full of stronger stuff. During the intermission I overheard people complaining that long concerts should feature things like back to back Beethoven symphonies. Well, certainly they could, but then we wouldn't get to hear what we really do need to be hearing too; the very clear political warnings in the Lutosławski or the various states of personal and universal anguish in the Bartók. At this point in history, these messages are more vital than ever.

Sosnoff Theatre

PS. The American Symphony Orchestra is one of the finest groups of musicians I have ever heard, their musicianship and commitment are often startling, but many of their instruments could and should be replaced. I don't know how this would be done except to raise money specifically for this purpose. Anyone of course may respond to any of my posts but in particular members of the ASO are welcome to comment further.

FINIS

My Dinner With Andre (1981)

There hasn't been another movie anything like this one.  It's still relevant.  For the interested, just replace all references to theatre arts, acting, plays, etc. with classical music, symphonic or chamber music, recitals, preparation, practice, etc. 

There is a break in the "action" in the link, and for that reason, I've provided a link to the screenplay.  The break occurs sometime after this point in the script:

ANDRE: Okay! Yes! We're bored! We're all bored now! But has it ever occurred to you, Wally, that the process that creates this boredom that we see in the world now may very well be a self-perpetuating, unconscious form of brain-washing, created by a world totalitarian government based on money? And that all of this is much more dangerous than one thinks? And it's not just a question of individual survival, Wally, but that somebody who's bored is asleep, and somebody who's asleep will not say "no"?

The action resumes and you can follow it again on the provided link, about here:  Wally is speaking -

I mean, really, I mean.... I mean, all right. Let's say: if I get a fortune cookie in a Chinese restaurant, I mean, of course, even I have a tendency, I mean, you know, I mean, of course, I would hardly throw it out! I mean, I read it, I read it, and I just instinctively sort of, you know, if it says something like: "Conversation with a dark-haired man will be very important for you," well, I just instinctively think, you know, who do I know who has dark hair? Did we have a conversation? What did we talk about?

Screenplays, much like compositions, have their little episodes and nuances.  I also remind my readers that much that makes up the informative warnings in this movie are now thirty years old! 

My Dinner With Andre

The Screenplay 

FINIS

Who Killed Classical Music?

Who Killed Classical Music? Maistros, Managers and Corporate Politics

by Norman Llebrecht ©1997

This book contains a tremendous amount of information, most of which is never brought to the attention of music students as they make their way first through conservatories of music, which can seem like monasteries to the uninitiated, and then out into the world of diminishing opportunities for the musicianship they have spent the better part of their lives perfecting. I was advised to read this book and write something about it on this blog, for further comment, by the fine pianist John Bell Young. Here is another website where he might be reached.

Maurice Strakosh

  1825-1887

Arthur Judson
1881-1975

 

Walter Legge 1906-1979

The Volpes with Ronald Wilford

Mark McCormack

The most significant kind of information this book contains are the rough biographies of various “heavy hitters” among the class of those we would call “agents”; people who represented artists as well as musical organizations and made a tremendous amount of money through their agencies, which had direct economic effects on concert performance policies and ticket prices and every other conceivable aspect of classical music presentation as a business. Read this book and discover people you've probably never heard of whose contributions both for good and ill have made the entire art form what it has become today; Gaetano Belloni, Maurice Strakosh, Arthur Judson, the Judd brothers (George and Bill), Walter Legge, Ronald Wilford, Norio Ohga, Mark McCormack, and others. It is important for every serious musician, regardless of preferred genre, to know the accomplishments and destructiveness wrought by these individuals and their “industry” which has made a few musicians incomparably richer than the great majority, have impoverished orchestras and opera companies and have saddled a technical and traditional art form with trappings of the corporate and sports entertainment worlds, largely to its detriment.
 
It would be easy to suggest that classical music's biggest problems have always been the chasing of patronage, sponsorship and commissions, while at the same time losing audience to other genres which require far less concentration and discipline. How does one make a living doing what one loves, but which may be largely unpopular? Some musicians have as Lebrecht suggested, tried to ignore their audiences, whose conservative tastes if anything were made by these agents who stood in the shadows, who deemed it safer to program music that had already earned a favourable reputation, than risking lots of money on less likely payoffs. Of course Lebrecht mentions cases where huge sums were spent on likely winners which never paid off either.

John Bell Young might well be disappointed: I know he wanted me to come forth and say more, and I can and will, but what I think we really need to do right now is for me not to say too much more on the subjects covered in Mr. Lebrecht's books (this one and two others covering similar important historical and business details), but instead offer to post any original monographs by others with opinions on these subjects that are sent to me with permission to post them here, issues which are really of such vast concern, or should be, to every working classical musician (and many more of us who are either out of work or have given up trying to earn anything from what we love to do most).

With that in mind, I am asking my readers to network with others to obtain permission for me to post their words here and to draw more attention to these issues. You can correspond with me concerning these topics at dpbmss@aol.com, put Death of Classical Music in the subject line so I know what it concerns. I might even do something really stupid and offer to get myself involved in a musical organization. We'll see. We really need to discuss these issues in a fair and fulsome fashion. No better time than right now!

FINIS

Music of the Great Composers – Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)

Yes, his name really does translate into English as Joe Green. Born the same year as Richard Wagner, Giuseppe Verdi would become the first composer of Italy to achieve genuine international recognition, he would be the first in our series to live into the 20^th century (just barely), and above all, Verdi's name and reputation form the very heart and soul of Italian grand opera. During Verdi's long and illustrious career, he wrote 26 operas, six or eight of which have become the backbone of the opera repertoire throughout the world.

In 1984, a lavish ten and a half hour mini series, "The Life of Verdi" starring Ronald Pickup. gained some popularity. The following are links to the trailers for various parts of this series:

1: La Scala, 1833: Giuseppe Verdi listens to Una Furtiva Lagrima

2: Nabucco's Success

3: Ernani and Verdi's Creative Process

4: Rigoletto

5: Il Trovatore

6: La Traviata

7: La Forza del Destino and Competition From Wagner

This series provides a tantalizing glimpse into times past and something of what it might have been like to have lived as one of the fashionable set of those days, as Verdi clearly became, living and working among those associated as they said of themselves, with “the theatre,” both as a business and a profession. The theatre they meant of course was the opera house, a unique kind of theatre built for the presentation of sung musical dramas.

The opera world of the 19^th century was a time of relentless building up of the basic repertoire beyond baroque, classical and bel canto precursors. The romantic age set literature as a reservoir from which to draw inspiration. Opera was popular as entertainment for most classes but the very poor and influential as a means to comment on social affairs without those observations having an overtly political form. In this way Verdi was attracted to choose characters and situations for his operas involving great difficulty, often leading to insurmountably tragic results.

The real Giuseppe Verdi was a complicated man, who it must be told was dealt some very hard turns in life and perhaps had it not been for his natural resilience, the faith of a few good friends, and his commitment to opera and its institutions, he might not have survived at all. How few young and ambitions people start out in life with their sweet little family literally ripped away by epidemic diseases? These things did happen back then far more often, even during the early 19^th century, which was not so long ago. The cynicism of those days had it that if war did not claim you, disease or famine surely might. Yet, it was almost as if fate rewarded Verdi for surviving the death of his family, the deep scars left on him from it must certainly have affected him for the rest of his life.

La Scala

Verdi's complexities led him to some political activism, however unlike Wagner's revolutionary participation in the troubles of 1848, Verdi's elevation to the new Italian parliament was through public acclimation. If Verdi and Wagner were each in their own right, politically active and nationalistic in their outlook for their countries, and they were, Verdi comes off as at once more naturally acceptable to his countrymen and his music far more easily understood, whether he accomplished very much for his country as a legislator (doubtful) or not.

Musically we could also say that Verdi did not make any real improvements on the technique of writing opera from his immediate predecessors, while Wagner was clearly taking many departures from those who came before him. Verdi's orchestration and the power of the human voice is far more focused; where Wagner is likely to get mystical and abstruse, Verdi is always very clear, down to earth and true to a range of explicit human emotions, as exemplified in the stylized careers of his operatic characters, some becoming so well known that their characteristic stereotypes define a veritable layer of Italian national consciousness. Wagner leans in the direction of the harmonically and emotionally complex or intellectual, whilst Verdi inclines one to pay closer attention to the simple and obvious features of human nature.

Peculiarities, this most Italian of composers was technically born a Frenchman; the section of Italy where he was born was in the possession of the French at the time of his birth. He seems to have had a proclivity to music but does not show quite the precocity of some notable forerunners, particularly Mozart. Verdi gives his first public concert at the age of 17 in the home of his future father in law. We don't know what he did, play the piano maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn't opera. By the age of 20 in 1833 (the year Brahms was born) we find Verdi in Milan studying music and getting more involved with the theatre, which is opera.

Three years later he is married. In the following two years his two children are born. They both die in infancy and in 1840 his wife dies of encephalitis. His family life is all over in a shocking four years!

Giuseppina Strepponi (1815-1897)

Professionally, at the same time Verdi was getting himself enmeshed in the opera business centring around La Scala in Milan, which was run by an impresario, Bartolomeo Merelli. Throughout cultural history there are many who deserve credit for helping or inspiring composers to create their music, for artists to paint their pictures, writers to pen their books, etc. Without Merelli, Verdi might have given up music after his wife's death. Instead, the world has Merelli to thank for Verdi's Nabucco which instantly made Verdi world famous. This fame came in 1842 when Verdi was 29 years old. He would write 14 more operas within the decade of his thirties, what he called his “galley years” either a reference to a slave ship or a small kitchen. Verdi, liking puns, could have easily meant both.

An important inspirational influence on Verdi was the opera singer Giuseppina Strepponi (1815-1897) who would eventually become Verdi's second wife. Defying the conventions of the day, they lived together many years before finally getting married in 1859. It is well known that whilst Verdi was baptised Catholic and raised (perhaps) with a little Jesuit education, he seems to have decided not to believe in anything (despite the liturgical contexts of some of his later works). This essentially secular / worldly attitude contributed one more strand to the fabric of a singular individualist, who would become commercially and financially as successful in his lifetime as Wagner was chronically impoverished. The various public annals ascribe to Verdi many genial and gracious qualities that his contemporary German counterpart certainly lacked.

La Fenice

Verdi brings his busy “galley years” to a close with Rigoletto, which premièred in Venice in 1851 (he was 38 at the time). In 1973, during my first visit to Europe, I was fortunate to see a bel canto opera performed in the same space (La Fenice - the Phoenix) where this Verdi opera was first heard. The original opera house was small, tall and intimate, a large room built for singing, as all great opera houses should be. It was destroyed by fire a few years after I was there. This wasn't the first time. La Fenice has been destroyed by fire three times in its history and was always rebuilt to something close to the original design. Two years later Verdi premièred Il Trovatore in Rome and La Traviata again in Venice where it flopped and was booed. Verdi was pushing the envelope describing middle class characters and highlighting the career of a prostitute trying to go legitimate. La Traviata is probably today one of the half dozen most popular operas of all time.

Between 1855 and 1867 (aged 42 to 54) Verdi writes five more operas including probably my favourite, La Forza del Destino (The force of destiny) which has an intriguing plot involving an accidental murder, confused or misrepresented identity, friendship, escaping the passions of the world through monasticism, discovery of true identity and the inevitable futility of revenge which accidentally destroys the character who was the original object of the first accidental murder. After Rigoletto, Verdi's operas each become more complicated and ingenious.

Verdi's famous Requiem was originally a project to honour fellow Italian composer Gioachino Rossini. Verdi was originally only to have to write one of the sections, the others were to be contributed by other composers. But the whole thing fell through which led to a few permanent professional and personal breaks between Verdi and some other musicians. Five years later (Verdi was 60) the Requiem was completed and presented for the first time in Milan a year later to honour Italy's most famous novelist and poet, Alessandro Manzoni (1785-1873). I was told on my first visit to Italy back in 1973 that to really understand what was most central to Italian culture, it was necessary to read Manzoni's great novel, I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed). I still haven't read it.

Teresa Stolz (1834-1902)
is associated with Verdi's last years,
the Requiem and Aida

At the same time as Verdi was writing the Requiem he was approached to write a grand opera to celebrate the opening of the new Suaz Canal to be performed in a new opera house being constructed in Cairo, Egypt. The organizers wanted him to accept a commission but Verdi was reluctant to accept until others of his contemporary competitors were mentioned as possible contenders, especially Richard Wagner. Aida, the story of an ancient Egyptian princess who is buried alive for love (somehow that seems a stylized Egyptian theme), was given a world première in Cairo in 1871 (Verdi was 58).

But Verdi was not finished. He spent many years revising some of his operas, but in 1887 (74 years old) Verdi premièred in Milan what is regarded by some as his greatest tragic opera, based on Shakespeare's Othello. Otello is in addition not formally set up in traditional operatic sections and numbers, as are most operas, as if Verdi was admitting something of the freedom Wagner had discovered earlier. Verdi's last opera, Falstaff, is a brilliantly written and exquisitely sensitive comedy displaying Verdi's continuing development as a composer. The first performance of Falstaff took place at La Scala in Milan to great success. This was in 1893, the composer's eightieth year!

In 1897 Verdi collects together and finishes his Quattro Pezzi Sacri (Four Sacred Pieces). The themes are all standard traditional Roman Catholic forms, at times luminously dressed in Verdi's ever progressing orchestral style. The four pieces are usually performed in the following order:

1. Ave Maria (unaccompanied chorus, in Latin, composed 1889)

(Orchestra e coro del teatro alla Scala, Daniel Barenboim, Teatro alla Scala. 22 dicembre 2009)

2. Stabat Mater (orchestra and chorus, in Latin, composed 1896-1897)

(Orchestra and chorus of National University of Mexico, directed by Enrique Ricci, Mexico City, April 2003)

[PART 1]  

[PART 2] 

3.Laudi alla Vergine Maria (unaccompanied female voices, in Italian, composed 1886-1888)
(Angelica Leánykar and the Angelica Girls' Choir

Vezényel / Conductor: GRÁF Zsuzsanna

MOM Művelődési Központ Kupolaterme (Budapest, Hungary)

6 March 2009)

4. Te Deum (orchestra and double chorus, in Latin, composed 1895-1896)
(Orchestra and chorus of National University of Mexico, directed by Enrique Ricci, Mexico City, April 2003)
[PART 1] 

[PART 2]
 

It seems a worthwhile question to ask why Verdi decided to bring these works together when he was known for so long to be a confirmed sceptic. Was he perhaps having second thoughts? After all, he had seen just how quickly and savagely death came and went through his own life. At a very ripe old age for the times, was Verdi perhaps coming face to face with his own imminent departure? This music with its very clear searching magnificence remains to my ears some of the most astounding music of his entire output!

In 1900 the King of Italy was assassinated which deeply affected him. Then in January 1901, the first year of the dawning 20^th century, the composer suffered a stroke and died within a week. He was 87 years old.

I vividly recall my first introduction to Verdi when I was young. Of course I was taken to the opera, but before that I had visited some business associates of one of my mentors; a family that was certainly committed to a music I knew existed but of which I hadn't really any first hand knowledge. It was of course opera, operatic singing and the music was all by Verdi. It was warm, robust, succulent music. If Rossini was a spaghetti composer, Verdi was a composer for dishes of greater substance, thicker sauces, meatier, with a unique and unforgettable poignancy, as if while others might seem more superficially gifted than Verdi, few of them really knew what it felt like to be truly alive. If you get nothing else from acquaintance with any of Verdi's great operas, you will encounter real feelings, real love, real sorrow, real pain, all on a very human and eloquent scale, so much so that in art some things just aren't done any better. Those who consider Verdi, not just among the greatest composers of all time, but THE greatest composer of all time, certainly have good reasons for their undying loyalty and affection for the greatest opera composer of all time.

Verdi's operas each take a few hours to perform. Those interested in Verdi should best check out their local opera companies for scheduled performances of his greatest works, there will be many as his appeal is undying to this day. But here are a few of my favourites:

The overture to La Forza del Destino (1862)
New York Philharmonic, Alan Gilbert conductor, 2011)

… and after that, one would normally sit back (or forward) as the curtain rises above the orchestra pit, the stage set brightens and this great tragic opera begins.

And then, who could possibly forget the Drinking Song that opens La Traviata (1853)? Here is my favourite tenor, Placido Domingo and Teresa Stratas to perform it in a very pretty opera cinema production directed by Franco Zeffirelli.

<<< La Traviata, Complete >>>

Glyndebourne Festival Opera
London Philharmonic Orchestra
Bernard Haitink, conductor

When you attend to your next Verdi opera (if you haven't been yet, you really are missing something, particularly if the opera company recognizes they are playing with real emotional dynamite rather than tired saltpetre) be prepared for quite a few surprises. Study the progress of his characters through the dramas he has quintessentially distilled for your delectation. If the production is any good at all, you'll have something to remember fondly for many years to come.

Just as a natural diet requires variety, a musical diet cannot be maintained on intellectually rigorous material (many of the works of J.S. Bach for instance) and requires a little Joe Green (Giuseppe Verdi) to give a musician balance and greater emotive depth.

Verdi's Masonic photo

FINIS