an original composition
here‘s an aria, a musical composition for one voice, of
great tonal and rhythmic complexity, with an equally
challenging part for the piano
totally 21st century
you’ll love it
Richard
Richibi’s Weblog
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Category: poetry to ponder
November 12, 2011
Brahms Violin Concerto – Kyung-Wha Chung
if, may the gods forbid, you see one concerto only ever in
your lifetime, let it be this one, Kyung-Wha Chung does the
Brahms Violin Concerto incontrovertibly, such performances
as this one are why composers write music, for interpreters
such as she to narrate their musical thought, to speak it
nearly verbally, indelibly, to bring it to unmistakable and
categorical life, to transcendence then even perhaps, as in
this case, to our ineluctable, ineradicable consciousness,
and thereby then to our stars
Kyung-Wha Chung sets the standard here to be achieved for
all artists, in my lifetime she has been the one to displace,
no one, not even the greatest, with the sole exception of
the inimitable of course Glenn Gould, has had the authority,
the brilliance, to outpace her, to outpace them, she is
Minerva, goddess of wisdom, poetry, magic, in outright
and unequivocal command, she is unquestionably and
irrevocably empress here, awesome, she is the highest
expression of music, utterly and irrevocably iridescent,
incontestably and utterly sublime
André Previn, with the Kölner Rundfunksinfonie Orchester,
the Radio Symphony Orchestra of Cologne, December, 1996,
supports ably, even admirably, he will make me eat my
earlier not especially flattering about him words
Richard
November 4, 2011
Beethoven’s Symphony no 6, in F major, opus 68, “Pastoral”
symphonies are not my preferred musical form, they are
generally too broad, grand, impersonal, they are nevertheless
the other most impactful order of presentation among musical
instruments, along with the concerto
a symphony is a concerto without a soloist, or it might be more
appropriate to say that a concerto is a symphony accommodating
a soloist, or soloists, in either case the musical elements remain
the same, you don’t have a symphony without movements
a symphony is also of course another name for that very orchestra,
just to confuse you
despite my indifference to that particular form of entertainment
some symphonies are nevertheless still for me impressive, some
even meaningful, poignant, several of Beethoven’s, most of the
works of the transcendental Bruckner, Brahms’ magnificent Fourth,
most others you can keep, as far as I’m concerned, I need a firm
anchoring principle, not the amorphous peregrinations of an
unbridled, often cacophonous crowd
those that I love however have touched me deeply, Beethoven’s
Sixth for instance, wherein through its second movement a loved
one spoke to me unmistakably from heaven, there and then made
me believe in an afterlife and angels, I remember the day clearly
and cherish still that powerful metaphysical moment
in the “Pastoral” Beethoven apotheosizes nature, the movements
themselves, of which there are an unconventional five, are named
after rural settings, like paintings
I imagine Beethoven channeling the idyllic Classical Fragonard, or
straddles triumphally both epochs
you will hear the birds sing, the rippling of the brook, it is as fresh
as ever springtime, as profound and expansive as itself time
Beethoven here speaks as clearly as actual language, and thereby
suggests that music is indeed itself an expressive tongue, earlier
it had been, though moving and undeniably evocative, essentially
an entertainment, a courtly device, though often enough sublime,
see Haydn, Mozart
Beethoven is not courtly, he is bold, assured, and mighty, of a new
breed of colonizers of the new and exhilarating democracy, the
French Revolution had just happened and their aristocracy was
dead and gone, indeed guillotined, a new day had dawned for
the common people, the idea of human rights
Beethoven spoke to these as a prophet, Moses at a secular Mount,
declaring the ideals of the Age of Reason, of which we still carry
the torch, to the multitudes and to their ensuing spawn
Klemperer at first seemed slow to me, nearly tired, but little by
little established a mesmerizing solemnity
by the end of the piece I’d again been touched by heaven
Richard
October 31, 2011
Sergei Prokofiev’s piano concerto no 3, opus 26
Yuja Wang in many ways isn’t Martha Argerich, but in
many ways she’s just as extraordinary
here she is with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra
under Daniele Gatti in Amsterdam, October 3, 1910
disregard the written advice that you are watching
Strauss’ “Don Juan” at the beginning of the second
movement, this is Prokofiev’s piano concerto no 3,
opus 26, throughout
Sergei Prokofiev is the mad boy of music, a Harlequin,
a Pinocchio, the fool in Shakespeare, the court jester,
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”‘s Puck, unpredictable,
effevescent, mercurial, irrepressible
in art I would compare him to maybe Miró, fanciful
though much more electric, with a touch of, say, the
seat, this is 1921, this is the Twentieth Century,
Prokofiev turns the heat on it right up
Richard
October 31, 2011
happy Hallowe’en
this poem by Longfellow requires no introduction, apart
from to say that it’s perfect
happy Hallowe’en
Richard
_________________
All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses.Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.
There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.
The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.
We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.
The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.
Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.
These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.
And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,–
So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.
October 30, 2011
drums, revisited
on the subject of drums a friend sent me an interesting
corroborative reply, a drum extravaganza, something
for me to chew on
I wondered what this would be called
a symphony, though of even all the same instruments,
by definition would require harmonization of sounds,
but their conformity here precludes that, there are
no sounds, nor even complementary beats, to
harmonize
an orchestra requires more than one instrument, here
there is but one
an orchestra requires more than one instrument, here
there is but one
nor do we have a concerto for having only a single
musical segment, should we allow, for that matter,
for the very term music
I confess, however, that I distinctly hear here a tango
therefore music
a tattoo is an outdoor military pageant, according to
Webster’s dictionary
I would think the actual rhythmic composition could
be called by the same name, a tattoo, written by, if
one were looking for a composer, as when we look
for painters in the art of the Early Middle Ages, no
one known, anonymous for being functional only
rather than arresting as of yet or sufficiently
individually remarkable
will this change
Richard
psst: thanks Jim for the reference
October 29, 2011
Richard Strauss’ “Burleske” for Piano and Orchestra, opus 5
when I mentioned to my friend that we had now heard
concertos from individually all the solo instruments
featured in the Beethoven Triple Concerto I pointed
out that therefore any instrument of course could be
central to a concerto, could it stand the virtuosity
and the strain
drums came up, sure, I said, should someone write
such a concerto, would drummers, a less melodic
such a concerto, would drummers, a less melodic
group, be interested, I know of no drum concertos
but I could not exclude the evidence of an unforgettable
tour de force, in a piece for primarily orchestra and piano
but with a significant and magnificent timpani obbligato
here and there interjecting, for their unqualified claim to
musical validity, we are all invited, the message is clear,
to the song
it is a piece by the evidently iconoclastic Richard Strauss,
not either of the Johanns, neither father nor son, but
Richard, a later, unrelated personality, with a few
indisputable masterpieces of his own
there are all the requisite instruments here, orchestra,
commanding piano, but this is not a concerto for having
only one segment of music, it’s given therefore another
identifying name, in such cases often its very definition,
here we have a burlesque, you’ll hear Strauss riff on that
particular topic, his idea of what is a burlesque, other
riffs by others might be called a waltz, a nocturne, an
adagio, until the more pragmatic preponderance of
titles – the “Emperor” Concerto, for instance, or Strauss’
own symphonic poems, “Death and Transfiguration”,
“Also Sprach Zarathustra“, after Friedrich Nietzsche’s
seminal mystic text – came about, that very process of
designation something again of a Straussian advance
the “Burleske”, as they would have it, for Piano and
Orchestra, opus 5, is an early work, as evidenced by
the opus number, by, it would appear, an irreverent
upstart, impetuous, explosive, even the introduction
itself of a central timpani would’ve been musically
unheard of, revolutionary at the time, he was
breaking all the rules
but he did so outstandingly, authoritatively, the next
step could conceivably be a drum concerto, who knows
this is not Classical music then, not at all meant for
an aristocracy, this is nearly no longer even Romantic,
this is 1885 to 1886, this is looking straight into the
future, the upheavals of our very own recent and,
prophetically, tumultuous early Twentieth Century
even beyond
ask Ringo Starr
or still any serious drummer
Martha Argerich at the pedal does the work absolutely
no harm, leaves it glistening, pristine and irrepressible
magisterially
Richard
October 23, 2011
a cello concerto
“Portrait of Marquise de Pompadour”
__________
Joseph Haydn, 1732 to 1809, who preceded and outlived
Mozart, 1756 to 1791, was also an older contemporary of
the more imperious Beethoven, 1770 to 1827
Mozart, 1756 to 1791, was also an older contemporary of
the more imperious Beethoven, 1770 to 1827
of the three Haydn is the most pleasant, polite, courtly,
witty, elegant, congenial, the musical equivalent of, say,
more restrained sensuality
his audience, and indeed his sponsors, were aristocrats,
his music makes no political, emotional, ideological
demands, it is meant merely to delight, which it does
in spades
one of his symphonies, the number 45, for instance, loses
one of his symphonies, the number 45, for instance, loses
instrumentalists one at a time in its final movement until
two only remain, Haydn himself and the concertmaster,
the orchestra had been wanting to go home but had been
longer than anyone expected, each one, according to
instructions in the score, was to put out the candle on
his music stand, in Vienna, incidentally, not one of
them of course was a woman, then was to leave the
shrinking stage, the not inconsiderate count let them
scurry the very next day
Mozart is more spontaneous, less academic than Haydn,
playful, unaffected, less inhibited, younger, by very
definition therefore less refined, more maybe, as a
consequence, unintentionally magical
Beethoven meanwhile is a quantum leap from their
Classicism, which is to say the musical groundwork
for our epoch set down by both those other
foundational pillars, into Romanticism, unleashing
upon his forebears’ firm structural, Classical, base
his more humanist, less formalized, view of the
emotions, paving the way, for instance, blazing a
very trail for, among others, its later towering
figure, Chopin
here is Haydn’s Cello Concerto no 1 in C major, written
in 1761, Eve-Marie Caravassilis plays the cello, Patrick
Botti conducts the Concilium Musicum de Paris in the
Church of St-Catherine of Hungary in Paris, all of these
to me unknown, August 10, 2011, just last year
I was not unimpressed
note the consistency throughout of the pace, and the
courtly discretion ever, in even the nimble, never
boisterous or brash, concluding, for instance, presto,
pithy, pert, but always peremptorily polite, it would
never come crashing down
what Revolution, it assumes, what 1789, let’s party
October 17, 2011
some Martha Argerich
after Glenn Gould there was Martha Argerich, a human dynamo, not quite of this earth, her speeds are technically next to impossible, her textures nevertheless always transcendental, she is a miracle, though explosive, volcanic
watch her arpeggiastic pyrothechnics, if you can keep up
an arpeggio is a run of notes up or down a scale, be it tonic or atonic, tuneful or dissonant, with accidentals either way, or not
an accidental is a decorative hiccough in the music
arpeggios can be treachorous
Marha Argerich puts herself in the driver’s seat and categorically delivers
here she does the First Tchaikowsky Piano Concerto, of it, note, one of her less celebrated performances
wow, still wow
one would advise Emil Gilels, our earlier illustrious Tchaikowsky celebrant, to watch his back, this woman is on fire
I’m on fire
Richard
Richibi's Weblog 