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Category: Dmitri Shostakovich
September 22, 2020
Serenade after Plato’s “Symposium” – Leonard Bernstein
“Plato’s Symposium“
Anselm Feuerbach
__________
imagine my surprise when having put
on a concert I’d recently taped from
television and, not having checked
out the program, apart from having
noted the featured violinist, someone
I, however peripherally, knew, then
heading out to the kitchen to do
some kitchen things, chop vegetables,
stir a pot, watch water, maybe, come
to a boil, a piece came up with which
I wasn’t familiar, thought maybe it
might be Shostakovich for its atonality,
though with, here again, his signature
decipherable melodies, ever, and
characteristically, maimed, twisted,
contorted, for, too, its Eastern
European rhythms, its apparent
Jewish folklore, touches of Fiddler
on the Roof, I thought, hints of
Schindler’s List, maybe, when the
work turned out to be, however
improbably, by Leonard Bernstein,
most famous, rather, for his Broadway
shows, West Side Story, for instance,
but especially as a conductor
his Serenade for violin, string orchestra,
harp and percussion, known also as
Serenade after Plato’s “Symposium”,
was written, in 1954, in commemoration
of a couple of personal friends, husband
and wife, after their demises
Plato‘s Symposium is one of his several
dialogues, a clutch of noteworthy
Athenians meet socially after an earlier,
more crowded, revel, a kind of debriefing,
and decide to each give his definition of
love, the work remains one of the great
disquisitions on the subject, not tackled
much since, surprisingly, in the history
of philosophy
there are seven people in attendance,
though Alcibiades, yes, the Alcibiades,
orator and statesman, stumbles into
the gathering, late and last
Bernstein has a voice for each
participant, though in five rather than
seven movements, two couples, the
first and the last, have no break
between their conjoined movements
I. Phaedrus: Pausanias – lento and allegro
II. Aristophanes – allegretto
III. Eryximachus, the doctor – presto
IV. Agathon – adagio
V. Socrates: Alcibiades – molto tenuto and allegro molto vivace
in the Symposium, Eryximachus speaks
before Aristophanes, yes, the Aristophanes,
the playwright, cause the bard has the
hiccoughs, and the doctor, Eryximachus,
agrees to go first, if out of the agreed upon
order, an order that Bernstein chooses not
to follow, for reasons to do with tempo, I
suspect, otherwise the progression is as
in Plato
Eryximachus, interestingly, advises
Aristophanes to make himself sneeze,
a cure apparently for hiccoughs, in
order to be ready for his turn, which
he does, and indeed manages
Agathon was a poet, his adagio here
is accordingly gorgeous, melting,
completely appropriate for a writer
of verse, and entirely, incidentally,
worth the price of admission
Socrates‘ molto tenuto, even and
tempered, measured, is, likewise,
totally apt for a philosopher
enjoy
R ! chard
March 30, 2019
String Quartet no 15, Opus 144 – Dmitri Shostakovich
Title page and key monogram of “The Mountain Lover” (c. 1895)
Aubrey Beardsley
___________
after John passed away, I read, at a
gathering we had for him, something
that I’d written in his honour, it began,
adagios always remind me of John,
John was a dancer, he walked like
one
a few days later, immersed as I
was in memories of him while
mechanically washing some
dishes, I heard, from a symphony
I’d put on in the background to
keep me company in my reverie,
its adagio
I dried my hands, put my arms
around myself, and we danced
to the end of the movement, I’d
found, I understood, utterly, I
believed, miraculously, a key to
the very hereafter, adagios
would henceforth always
remind me of John
some time later, flipping aimlessly
through string quartets, of
Shostakovich among others, I
happened upon this one, his 15th
String Quartet, Opus 144, which
had, to my astonishment, not one,
not two, not three, not even four
nor five, but six whole adagios,
this was John talking, I knew,
I’ve loved it ever since
listen
R ! chard
psst:
String Quartet no 15, Opus 144
l – Elegy: Adagio
ll – Serenade: Adagio
lll – Intermezzo: Adagio
lV – Nocturne: Adagio
V – Funeral March: Adagio molto
Vl – Epilogue: Adagio
Dmitri Shostakovich
February 18, 2019
on a personal note
“Roses“ (c.1886)
John Singer Sargent
____________
on a personal note, since I prefer longer
pieces, something I can sink my teeth
into – I like them when they’re long, I
always say – which led me into spending
33 years with Proust, for instance, page
by page, so that I could breathe it in, him,
I tend to veer towards music with several
movements, be they serial, as in sonatas,
symphonies, concertos, Classically
speaking, of course, or haphazard, as
in the more loosely associated suites
rather than smelling merely the rose,
as in a simple waltz, nocturne, étude,
I want to revel in the aroma of an
entire garden
therefore the three hours of Liszt‘s
“Années de pèlerinage“, for example,
even Wagner‘s daunting five hour
operas, individual portions of his
towering, indeed epic, four-part
“Ring” cycle, enthral me
these are high masses, and if you
subscribe to the faith, the experience
they allow can be transformational,
however such may still be,
nevertheless, a mere rose, a mere,
but epiphanic, rose, as is, for
instance, the exquisite Opus 10, no 3
of Chopin, “Tristesse”, or “Sadness“,
inveterately, for me
a rose, a creation as unique as we
are, in our shared, however unevenly
apportioned, mortality, proud, sturdy,
protected by thorns, even, meanwhile,
as we are, in our own manner, against
our own existential vicissitudes
but vibrant, also, ever, drenched in
any of its several arresting colours,
fragrant, poised, full of perfect grace,
as we should be ourselves, I’ve told
myself, not only with regard to their
beauty, but to their inspiration,
whether a deity exists that we
might be beholden to, incidentally,
or not
Shostakovich has something poignant
to say about that, also Beethoven, but
that’s another story, for later, maybe,
however, either, powerfully
consequential
until then, l’important, as we sing in
French, c’est la rose
or heed, it says, in other, but
nevertheless ever instructive words,
the wisdom of very nature
I live by it
R ! chard
July 13, 2018
why I believe in music, or “I Was Born For This” – Austin Wintory
“Joan of Arc upon Coronation of Charles VII in the Cathedral of Reims“ (1854)
____________________
many years ago, while I was volunteering
at our hospital’s palliative care unit, nearby,
recently installed as a response to, among
other pressing preoccupations, but most
urgently then, the AIDS crisis, I was asked
to sit by a lady in profound distress, her
family, Western Buddhists, would go to
lunch while I would sit by her to comfort
her as much as I could
she was dishevelled, of course, completely
disconcerted, all ajitter, lost, and evidently
confused, in her profound isolation, not to
mention in the crumpled state of her
harried bed, unable to communicate, or
reason
I found a chair, sat by her with earnest
concentration, my partner had died
there, only recently, on that very unit,
and I was expressing, to all of those
concerned in his unparalleled care,
my unlimited appreciation
I lay a hand gently upon her arm, to let
her feel, at least, the safety that my
touch could allow, to let it settle on
her, however removed might be her
remaining consciousness, began to
sing quietly a chant I’d been intoning
from a creed I’d turned to for comfort
in my own personal anguish, at the
loss of my own friend, a call, an
invocation, the continuous iteration
of a line that brought solace, Om Nama
Shivaya, I prayed, over and over again,
with the greatest intention, whatever
that phrase might’ve, I’ve forgotten,
meant
she relented, found her space, little by
little she became, as though grace had
descended upon her, calm, by however
infinitesimal degrees, while I continued,
now, my hopeful, helpful, it appeared,
manifestly mystical, intervention
she had become restful, I’d
accomplished essentially, I gathered,
my primary mission, though I
continued, with some sense, perhaps
even a glow, of personal pride, my
soulful incantation
then in a voice not much louder than a
whisper, but much less distraught than
a moan, she began to join in with row,
row, row your boat, tunefully, over and
over again, accommodating herself,
though, naturally, exceedingly weakly,
to my rhythm, I felt I was experiencing,
right there, and then, through the
power of cadence, a miracle
when I looked back, upon hearing
behind me a rustle, standing at the
door was her family, wrapped in
equal consternation
here’s something with someone singing
in several inscrutable languages for
most of us, mostly, words from historical
texts, in Greek, Latin, Olde English,
Japanese, and French, “I Was Born For
This“
that title, of one of the segments of a
longer work, “Journey“, by a contemporary
composer, Austin Wintory, is indeed a
translation of Joan of Arc‘s words on the
cross, “Ne me plaignez pas. C’est pour cela
que je suis née.”, do not pity me, she says,
I was born for this, Joan of Arc, my own
personal Jesus
Shostakovich has an entire symphony,
his 14th, composed of music to
accompany classic poems, all in a
variety of foreign, to him, tongues, but
translated back into Russian for his
purpose in this particular, and not
uncommon, instance, a nevertheless
pointed reference to music as a superior,
more direct, communication – note, here,
the word, communication – it, the 14th,
is profound, extraordinary, read here
first, then listen
R ! chard
May 13, 2018
“Mother with Children” – Gustav Klimt
“Mother with Children“ (c.1909 – 1910)
_______
Gustav Klimt has long been one of
my very favourite painters, a large
reproduction of a detail of his
masterpiece, “Music“, hangs even
on one of my walls
how much is that Klimt in the
window, I’d asked the merchant
when I saw it from the street in
his shop’s display
later, I invited people over, to see
my Klimt, I’ve got a very large
Klimt, I’d say – this is before
anyone even knew of him, I was,
I’ll admit, a bad boy
around all that, I’ve had the good
fortune to see many of his works
during the several times I’ve been
to Vienna, where most of his
wonders reside, where they grace
that immortal city, the great hall of
the Kunsthistorisches Museum,
the Art History Museum in English,
for instance, the Beethoven Frieze
at the Vienna Secession Building
and, of course, at Belvedere, the
summer palace, where among
other paintings of his, you can
still see the iconic “The Kiss“,
their national treasure
but the painting above, part of a
private, apparently, collection, is
utterly new to me, and therefore
striking,
note how stark the background is
here, above, compared to Klimt’s
usually more ornamented
constructions, how the subject is
starkly the gentleness, the
intimation of peace, even serenity,
in the rosy cheeks of not only the
children, but of also the mother,
the slumber and surrender, midst
the imprecations of the
surrounding, and portentous,
darkness, note the paradoxical,
genetically determined even, trust
and love, in the consonant colours,
cherry blossoms blooming in all
three sleeping faces, despite the
threatening miasma of encroaching
and engulfing primordial earth
Shostakovich also said something
like that in his 15th String Quartet,
a fundamental harmony develops,
despite even strident distortions,
disturbances, in otherwise
unbearable situations, to provide
some solace, redemption
listen, I urge you, if you dare
compare the crook in the mother’s
neck, above, a nearly Baroque angle,
to the same docile, though resilient,
bent in Klimt‘s lover in “The Kiss“
for his provocative, maybe even
enlightening, perspective on
women
happy Mother’s Day, mothers, for all
your invaluable attention
R ! chard
February 3, 2018
“The Seven Last Words of Our Saviour on the Cross”, opus 51 – Joseph Haydn
“Crucified Christ“ (1780)
_______
Haydn’s Opus 51 was commissioned
for the Oratorio de la Santa Cueva, the
Holy Cave Oratory, in Cádiz, Spain, a
church, as the name suggests, built
partially underground, it would be
performed, the Opus 51, for the Good
Friday service of 1787, Haydn therefore
put his Opus 50 on hold, six string
quartets, to finish this ecclesiastical
work on time
what had been required was a work for
small orchestra to inform the Seven
Last Words of our Saviour on the
Cross, it would therefore have at least
segments, movements, and would be
divided by the elaboration of the
bishop upon the significance of these
individual “Words”, or, in fact,
statements, see this example
Haydn added an introduction, and a
finale in the form of an earthquake,
quite, I think, wittily and ever so
appropriately
nearly simultaneously, Haydn
composed the orchestral
arrangement for string quartet, and
later for orchestra and voice, for, in
other words, an oratorio
to my mind “The Seven Last Words
of Our Saviour on the Cross” is
Haydn’s crowning achievement, in
all of its iterations
you’ll note that there is even first of
all a title, and the title asks for
something quite specific, indeed
words, which the composer would
have to render musically, somehow,
he’d need drama, something of a
musical narrative, no minuets
all of the movements, apart from
the end ones, are variations on
slow – adagio, lento, largo, even
grave – and how do you keep an
audience, or in this case a
congregation, happy, or even
interested, with seven potentially
lugubrious adagios in a row, all
profoundly melancholy
only Shostakovich has managed
to do that since, which I’ll talk
about at some point later
Haydn also undoubtedly inspired
Beethoven here with the
consequences of so many
movements, the possibility of
extending a musical intention
into something resembling,
indeed, a book, a story, the
introduction of narrative,
essentially, into our musical
history, which is to say, music
as literature
the orchestral version of “The
Seven Last Words” is performed
here at the very Oratorio de la
Santa Cueva, the string quartet
version, played not only better
than I’ve ever heard it played
before, but better even than any
other quartet I’ve ever heard,
period, includes the commentaries
in German by an attendant prelate,
as intended in the original
composition
the movements’ “Seven Words” are
indicated in Latin, not, incidentally,
the language of “Our Saviour”, and
move from “Lord, why have you
forsaken me” to “If it is Your will,
then let it be done”
the last version presented here is
the oratorio, for orchestra and
voice
all of them, utterly inspiring
listen
R ! chard
(to be, incontrovertibly, continued,
this piece is too loaded with
substance, it is transformational)
December 30, 2017
on string quartets – Opus 76, no 1 – Joseph Haydn
“Joseph Haydn“ (1791)
______
to not consider other musical forms of
Shostakovich would be unfair, his
symphonies are mostly propaganda,
however often, though somewhat
culturally specific, riveting
my favourite works of his, works I
consider iconic, are mostly chamber
pieces, piano solos, string quartets
a string quartet, after a symphony, is
like sitting down to dinner with four,
at the very least, acquaintances,
rather than being a guest at a party,
the conversation is more intimate,
every person plays hir part, everyone
is heeded, if even only with courtesy,
a social, a Classical, an aristocratic,
prerequisite
movements can be compared to
courses, distinct and identifiable for
their particular culinary, musical,
propriety
later variations on this reflect the
variations in social mores, where
restaurants, the modern way of
socializing, allow for disparate
choices, often superimposed,
throughout the meal for any,
every, occasion
dim sum, tapas, celebrate this, not
unhappily
but string quartets can be tricky, I
thought I’d start from the beginning,
with some Haydn, their recognized
Father, you’ll understand when you
hear this, his Opus 76, no 1, an
outstanding string quartet to live
up to
Haydn set the standard for string
quartets when the norms of Western
music were being established, Bach
had given us the alphabet, the
well-tempered clavier, Mozart, the
grammar, the structure of music,
tempo, tonality, repetition, Beethoven
gave us the literature, the poetry, the
philosophical, the transcendent
Haydn is somewhere between these
last two, but decidedly, still, the king
of the string quartet, though Beethoven
does a good job of trying to best him,
and so does Shostakovich, you’ll have
to pick
but first, let’s start with Haydn, that’ll
be already, you’ll see, or hear, enough
later, I’ll get into it
R ! chard
December 28, 2017
Symphony no. 15 in a major, opus 141 – Dmitri Shostakovich
“Contrasting Sounds“ (1924)
__________
Shostakovich can be difficult, he speaks a
foreign language, discordant notes leave
you wondering where you’re going
the disruption of the three conditions of
Classical music, tonality, tempo and
repetition, has given us here, the
equivalent of derivatives of Latin, you
don’t understand Italian if you speak
only French, despite the profound
interconnections, roots
or think of trying even to read
Shakespeare
also Shostakovich is more literal than
other composers, his works are intimately
connected with the history and trials
of his homeland, wrapped in folkloric
references later cultures and generations
would not be aware of
one can detect a composer of great
consequence, like reading Homer in
translation, but never be able to feel
their local, tribal, force
only a French Canadian could truly
understand a French Canadian, say,
in hir very atoms, and that, everywhere
there are many references to personal
influences in Shostakovich’s 15th
Symphony, which he viewed, apparently,
as a kind of autobiography – the initial
revolutionary ardour, his profound
disillusion, the day to day struggles to
endure the murderous tribulations of his
political masters, the moral ambiguities
that would have gone with them, the
existential crosses to bear – with
appropriately pertinent quotations from
other foundational composers
you’ll surely not miss Rossini’s “Overture”
to his opera, “William Tell“, which Russians
would’ve been entirely familiar with, though
we’re more likely to have known it in North
America as the theme from the TV show,
“The Lone Ranger“
much as we got our Shostakovich, however
circuitously, from Walt Disney, Hanna-Barbera,
if you’ll remember them
and if you think you’ve heard in this symphony
something you might’ve heard already,
Shostakovich quotes himself from his earlier
symphonies
and if you’re good, you might even catch
some Wagner, Mahler, some, however
esoteric, Glinka, even
much of it, I’m afraid, now lost to us, in
this new century, unless we’re total
nerds
which is where, of course, I take a bow
the first movement was conceived as a
toy box, it’s disorganized in the manner
of a child discovering
I heard, as well, a drunken degenerate
dancing, or trying to, a bull in a china
shop
but in the next movement, a dirge, an
“adagio – largo – adagio – largo”, if
you’ve ever heard one, the drunken
lout, in my mind, the next morning
wakes up, broken but nevertheless
patient, and resilient
with one shoulder to the pillow, he
props himself up, having understood
that he must face the day, if only to do
his morning business, with a hand on
the night table, he braces himself for
the effort of heaving himself up from
the side of the bed, hears every bone
crack, every muscle stir as he lifts
himself up to a stable posture, tests
his balance, then turns to move
forward, crouched under the weight
of all of his days, towards the basin
and the mirror, where the picture
could be better, but could also be
worse
a blemish there takes up less than
a minute, a residual sense of duty,
much more than of pride
his business done, the coffee, the
grinder, the beans, the warmed cup
and then the hour or two to read
poetry and find the inspiration, to
undertake the day that’s been
thrust upon him
he writes his Symphony no 15
the following movements are
excessive to me, we drown in a sea
of adagios and allegrettos, a not
unpleasant fate, but more confusing
than entertaining
though I’ll return
I think I might even get to really like
this symphony, it took me years to
adjust to Kandinsky’s paintings
R ! chard
psst: thanks for listening
December 19, 2017
Symphony no 14, opus 135 – Dmitri Shostakovich
“Portrait of Shostakovich“ (1976)
_______
though I’d feared undertaking Shostakovich’s
14th Symphony – it would be a set of eleven
movements, each setting its own poem to
music, poems by Federico García Lorca,
Guillaume Apollinaire, Rainer Maria Rilke,
and one Wilhelm Küchelbecher, translated
from their respective languages into Russian,
compounded by once again the fact that this
wasn’t either a symphony, but strictly speaking
a song cycle – I found the 14th Symphony to be,
counterintuitively, a triumph, all the issues I’d
earlier listed as compositional misadventures
– the play of voice and instruments, the dangers
of using a single singer, one pitch, to anchor an
orchestral work – had been dealt with expertly,
all the obbligatos, even, were back, I couldn’t
wait to hear it again
Schubert had done several song cycles,
“Die Schöne Müllerin“, “Schwanengesang“,
“Winterreise“, for instance, sad stories,
steeped in Romantic torment, not unlike,
still in 1969, Shostakovich the 14th
Schubert, though, accompanies with just a
piano
but a music cycle, without voice this one,
no poems, just musical ones, of Liszt, his
“Années de pèlerinage“, his “Years as a
Pilgrim“, three years, one, two, three,
1835 through to 1838, travelling through
Switzerland and Italy, is consummate,
ethereal, exquisite, and goes on for a
few utterly enchanting hours
one New Year’s Eve, I sat before a cozy fire,
comfortable on my fluffy sofa, cuddled up
in the several picturesque melodies along
the musical way, like station stops on a
train
I did the entire trip with him, nearly three
hours, the music like a sonic looking glass,
a hearing glass, a hearing film, not only
transparent, but transcendental, into a
very wonderland, beyond even its mere
incidental geography
that’s what art does, and music, when
you look, listen
enjoy
R ! chard
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