sonatas, continued (“String Quartet, Op. 76 no. 1” – Haydn)
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Tag: adagios
January 29, 2024
sonatas, continued (String Quartet No. 15 in E-flat minor, Opus 144 – Shostakovich)
before taking on Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 15,
in E-flat minor, Op. 144, incidentally, let me tell you
about its meaning for me, it has six movements, all
adagio – adagios, markedly, always remind me of
John – I’d been flipping through albums, back in the
Nineties, when albums still sold in that format in
record stores, I happened to land on a piece with
not one, not two, nor three, nor four, nor even five,
but six adagios, John had died only a few months
earlier, mid 1989, here was something I could sink
my teeth into, my being, something that could
really envelop me
Shostakovich famously asked the quartet who
would give the first performance of the piece,
in Moscow, January 11, 1975, to play its first
movement “so that flies drop dead in mid-air
and the audience start leaving the hall from
sheer boredom.”, so be warned, it is not
effervescent, this is not Mozart
but it was everything, then, that I could’ve
wanted
R ! chard
September 23, 2019
Piano Concerto no 2, opus 19 – Beethoven
“Allegro con brio, Bourke St. West“ (1890)
Tom Roberts
________
a concerto is a movie, but for the ears,
one listens, rather than looks, for one’s
information
quite specifically, Beethoven introduces
drama into his inventions, where earlier
there’d been merely an invitation to the
dance, minuets, for instance, gigues, or
disparate, disorganized, appeals,
otherwise, to our more interior, whether
secular or mystical, emotions, see in
this context, for instance, early adagios,
heart-wrenching, melting often, odes
these, or the even slower largos, fit
neatly, however, into Beethoven’s
compositional scheme of things,
between the introductory allegros,
often con brio, and the closing,
and equally spirited rondos, by
becoming the pivotal element in
his intended musical evening, the
core of his narrative presentation,
the plangent centre of his three
part play, film
here’s his Second
listen
R ! chard
April 3, 2019
Piano Concerto no 21 in C major, K 467 – Mozart
“Andante (Sonata of the Pyramids)“ (1909)
Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis
_______________
much like adagios, andantes, the
next step up with respect to pace
in musical compositions from
adagios, are rarely intended to be
alone, are part, most often, of a
larger creative intention, though
they must appear singly here and
there somewhere in the literature,
though where, I don’t yet know
and I’ve looked
but here’s an andante you’ll surely
remember, a Mozart, not surprisingly,
he was young and exuberant, adagios
would’ve been not immediately given
to so youthful an artist, consequently
less prevalent in their music, nor his,
Beethoven would be more ripe for
adagios, indeed crushing adagios,
eventually, in a more conflicted time,
but that’s another story
it’s the middle movement of his
inspired 21st Piano Concerto, no
less, itself, a monument to Western
culture than its iconic central piece,
a work that for my generation most
defined the essential Mozart
listen
note that the anguish, at even this
accelerated tempo, from the
foundational adagio, is crushing
still and, still, utterly unforgettable
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
March 15, 2017
“Daffodils” – William Wordsworth (an epitaph)
“Wild Poppies, Near Argenteuil” (1873)
________
for Pat
a dear friend passed away recently,
Pat, the mother of my partner, who
passed away himself nearly 30 years
ago, was already of a certain age at
which death follows closely tripping
us up with itches and cramps and
dire debilities as we walk along the
winding road that isn’t that long any
longer
she’d already acquired Alzheimer’s
though she read still, understood,
even poetry, though she could not
remember what had happened
yesterday even, however traumatic,
that she’d fallen the day before, for
instance, and bore still corroborative
angry scratches escaped her, left
her puzzled, though never rattled,
ever compliant
you can forget all you want, Pat, I’d
said to her earlier in her prognosis,
but don’t ever forget I love you
since, during our regular Internet
encounters, along with her husband
on her end, she’s left the conversation
to him, but wraps her arms around
herself and tells me she wants to hug
me, we always end our visit with I love
you’s
when I went to visit her in hospital,
where she’d ended up following more
falls, which indicated eventually dire
complications, I brought her a teddy
bear
here, Pat, I said, I can’t be here always
to hug you, but you can think of me
when you hug this bear
she died a few days later, the last
words we said were, I love you, I
love you, before I flew back home
to Vancouver from Victoria
I was sad, I lit candles, then a day
later I thought, how do I get out from
under this somber cloud, I should
listen for her, I remembered
talk to me, Pat, I’ll hear, I entreated
when my dad died, I’d said, talk to
me, Dad, I’m your son, I’ll hear, and
I did
when his sister died, a beloved aunt,
I’d lit a scented candle inadvertently
in commemoration, when the air
suddenly filled with the aroma of
rosemary, which had wafted in on the
exhalations of the candle to fuse with
my own reveries in epiphanic, verily
transcendental, conversation
adagios, also, always remind me of
John, Pat’s son
talk to me, Pat, say something, I
said to the ether, and listened
last Thursday, at the service, turning
to the last page of the programme
which had been provided, I began to
read her favourite poem
I wandered lonely as a cloud, I read
but couldn’t make it through the next
line, tears welling up in my eyes, my
mom, who was with me, holding my
hand
thank you, Pat, I said, overcome with
emotion, this poem would be her
teddy bear to me
Richard
________________
I wander’d lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: –
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.
September 15, 2013
“A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night” – Harry Nilsson
when I was much younger, and still beset
by the unruly vagaries of love, finding my
way through its thorny thickets, this is
what I’d listen to as I’d fall asleep
Richard
psst: all adagios, you’ll note, each and
every one a lullaby
Harry Nilsson (1941 – 1994)
March 23, 2012
Dmitri Shostakovich – String Quartet no 15, opus 144
several years ago when an angel I knew passed away
I read at his commemoration something I had written
for him, adagios, I said, always remind me of John
only a few days later, after I’d spoken, an adagio in
the distance was weaving its magic spell as I
abstractedly washed perennial dishes, a pivotal
spot, it would appear, for me, in my mystic
wanderings, my spiritual peregrinations
gradually I recognized the presence I’d apparently
inadvertently evoked with my unsuspecting but
thoughtful and caring script, opening a key, like
Ali Baba, it would transpire, to the very undiluted
infinite, something I’d wished for from my dad,
who’d died just a few months earlier, promising
me he’d speak to me if he could, though by then
I hadn’t yet heard from him
later when I was browsing for music to get into
to while away my pensive hours I happened upon
some Shostakovich in a nearby record store, I’d
recently been exploring his stuff, having reached
forward from the Romantics and even the
Impressionists, and looked to a relatively more
recent touch, the early Twentieth Century
which is to say the atonalists, Schoenberg, Berg,
Stravinsky and so forth, of which Shostakovich,
I would argue, has proven to be the most
significant voice, his music being that of a
desperate, nearly broken people enduring
the atrocities under Stalin
he is the most important composer of the
Twentieth Century, I think, along with Olivier
Messiaen, who survived a German prisoner of
war camp, two tough, even heroic, spirits
and here were not one, not two, not even three,
but six adagios in his 15th String Quartet, when
anything faster was too much for me to bear,
otherwise it would have to have been silence,
I was elated
I was not let down, Shostakovich’s 15th String
Quartet, opus 144, is a masterpiece, and helped
me through my rigorous Calvary with compassion,
grace, and ultimately golden hope, to health and
resignation
it is not an easy piece, you might find it
overwhelming, but it is the last word in adagios,
and for me it means the world, I couldn’t leave
it out
I found the distribution awkward however, I
haven’t found the quartet complete anywhere
on the Internet, you’ll have to access the movements
separately, pee breaks are therefore allowed, there
are six movements, not usual but we’ve seen
Beethoven do five already for his Sixth Symphony,
so not entirely unexpected
the first movement, Elegy (Adagio), is played by the
Rubio Quartet, but with only an image of war torn
Leningrad to inspire visually
the second, Serenade (Adagio), by the Borodin String
Quartet, perhaps Shostakovich’s best interpreters, are
also presented visuals inert
the third, fourth, and fifth – Intermezzo (Adagio),
Nocturne (Adagio), and Funeral March (Adagio molto) –
in that order, are played live by the Shostakovich
Quartet, named of course in the composer’s honour
and the sixth, Epilogue (Adagio), again by the Borodin
may you be granted the poise and profound grace
of the adagio
Richard
March 13, 2012
Mozart’s Piano Concerto no 21, K 467 (1785)
to my astonishment, not to mention my embarrassment,
upon learning just now, with this video, that the andante
to Mozart’s Piano Concerto no 21, K. 467, is not an adagio,
as I’d been informing anyone I’d been trying to enlighten
about that tempo, breaking into, no, gently acceding to,
ever, the delicacy of the bucolic music in a voice that
upon learning just now, with this video, that the andante
to Mozart’s Piano Concerto no 21, K. 467, is not an adagio,
as I’d been informing anyone I’d been trying to enlighten
about that tempo, breaking into, no, gently acceding to,
ever, the delicacy of the bucolic music in a voice that
had already often rendered the tune’s lyrical, incandescent,
curves to the best of my fervent ability, I had to cede
years and years of my false assumption to the cold
irreversible judgment of black fact, I was wrong, I had
curves to the best of my fervent ability, I had to cede
years and years of my false assumption to the cold
irreversible judgment of black fact, I was wrong, I had
been wrong, am wrong, March 13, 2012
it doesn’t happen often, therefore the date
meanwhile beware of my pronouncements, where possible,
where pertinent, check your facts
though that andante really feels like an adagio, don’t you
think
this middle movement had been the theme to a celebrated
movie when I was young – a Swedish movie, “Elvira Madigan“,
about a tragic couple who hadn’t survived the rigours of love,
a true and compelling story – and had become known through
this film, thereby introducing Mozart culturally to an entire
generation nurtured on movies
the andante is now probably again recognized as primarily
a work of Mozart’s, I’ll wager because of the film still now
his most famous, the film itself, “Elvira Madigan“, not having
had the shelf life of essential art, having become a historical,
though circumstantial merely, curiosity
you won’t hear the fury of Brahms or Beethoven in
Mozart, he is of an another, earlier era, of courtesy and
controlled emotions, there is tenderness of course, but
never overt imperiousness or passion, just courtly music,
razzle dazzle and panache, that has lasted unscathed,
not at all blemished nevertheless for already 250 years
Richard
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