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Tag: Handel
July 20, 2018
mass appeal, or “Missa Solemnis”, opus 123 – Beethoven
from the centre, the Hofkirche, the Dresden Cathedral, across from the
Augustusbrücke, or Augustus Bridge, extends into the Zwinger, one
of three only palaces in Europe, along with Versailles and Vienna’s
Schönbrunn, distinctly horizontally to the right, not to be confused
with a crook in the Cathedral, an intolerable, were it so, ecclesiastical
gaffe, it ‘s now become one of the most significant art galleries in
Europe, the green rooves, to the right still, are the Semperoper‘s, the
black roof, nestling before it, an unforgettable Italian
restaurant
before it all, majestically, the Elbe
_______
from the very Semperoper in Dresden,
where I’ll ever remember seeing the
worst “Barber of Seville” I’ve ever seen,
first balcony, left of centre, Figaro came
out on a motorcycle, I ask you, it was
downhill after that, my mom, beside
me, was falling even asleep, we left at
intermission, soldiered on to a
restaurant overlooking the Elbe, Italian,
if I remember, but utterly more enjoyable
than the disappointing operatic option,
there might even ‘ve been a moon at our
tableside window, picturesquely
shimmering on the river
but, hey, we both would‘ve stayed,
incontrovertibly, for this performance,
Beethoven’s “Missa Solemnis“, a late,
and towering, entry, 1823, in his opus
– second definition of that word, which
is to say, his entire output, all 135
opuses, first definition there, discrete
compositions – plus all his works
without opus – first definition again –
numbers, WoO
the plural of opus, incidentally, can
also be, both meanings, opera, just
to confuse things, I use either
interchangeably, according to my
narrative rhythm
missae solemnes, plural of missa
solemnis, are a particularly Catholic
form of music, going back to the
very Middle Ages, at which point
religious art was all that really
mattered, anything else was entirely
peripheral, of no consequence
but Catholicism, and its Protestant
offshoots, which is to say, their
common Christianity, remained
culturally entrenched during the
process of their slow disintegration
Nietzsche would, later, take care
of that, but that’s another story
Beethoven, Mozart, Catholics, if,
either, only by name, delivered
missae solemnes, while Bach,
Handel, both Protestant,
delivered oratorios, with some
intermingling
about which, later
Catholic, Protestant expression still
find, even strong, exponents at
present, though the form is,
essentially, outdated, our anthems
are national, now, mostly, if even
somewhat, that, halfheartedly, when
not, paradoxically, searchingly,
hopefully, and maybe even
revolutionarily, again, ideological
imagine “Imagine“ for instance, as
such, just click
R ! chard
February 13, 2018
String Quartet in B flat, Opus 55, no 3 – Haydn
“Queen Marie Antoinette of France“ (1783)
Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun
___________________
first of all, let me grievously repent an
egregious confusion I probably left
in my last diatribe, I said that the second
movement of the Opus 54, no 2 sounded
to me like a minuet, I had, through
embarrassing inattention, confused its,
however unmemorable, adagio with that
of this Opus 55, no 3, which I’d listened
to in too quick succession, driven as I
am by my thirst for epiphanies
the Opus 54, no 2 will do, but I’m not
going back for seconds, nor to the
Opus 55, no 3, though here’s where
I flaunt nevertheless Haydn, not to
mention Bach, Mozart, Beethoven,
all the way to eventually Bruckner,
Brahms, the extraordinary Richard
Wagner, passing through Schubert,
Mendelssohn, the Strausses, father
and son, and the unrelated Strauss,
Richard, another incontrovertible
giant, and I nearly left out the
unforgettable Liszt, all of them
forefathers of our present music
you might have noticed that these
are all Germanic names, obedient
to the Hapsburg empire, with
Vienna as its supreme cultural
capital, and it was that
Austro-Hungarian dynasty that
indeed nearly single-handedly
secured our Western musical
traditions
a few Italians are remembered,
from the 18th Century, Scarlatti
maybe, Boccherini, Albinoni,
but not many more
no one from France, but they were
about to have a revolution, not a
good time for creative types,
though, incidentally, Haydn was
getting Tost, to whom he was
dedicating his string quartets for
services rendered, to sell his stuff
in very Paris
then again, Marie Antoinette, I thought,
was Austrian, an even archduchess,
and would’ve loved some down-home
music at nearby Versailles
so there you are, there would’ve been
a market
the English had Handel, of course,
who was, albeit, German, getting
work where he could when you
consider his competition, he was
too solemn and plodding by half,
to my mind, for the more
effervescent, admittedly Italianate,
continentals, Italy having led the
way earlier with especially its
filigreed and unfettered operas
but here’s Haydn’s Opus 55, no 3
nevertheless, the best Europe had
to offer, socking it to them
Haydn’s having a hard time, I think,
moving from music for at court to
recital hall music, music for a much
less genteel clientele, however
socially aspiring, we still hear
minuets, and obeisances all over
the place, despite a desire to
nevertheless dazzle, impress
then again, I’m not the final word, as
my mea culpa above might express,
you’ll find what eventually turns
your own crank, floats your own
boat, as you listen
which, finally, is my greatest wish
R ! chard
February 8, 2018
Easter Oratorio – J.S.Bach
“Easter Angel“ (1959)
_______
for Elizabeth,
who needs an oratorio right now,
and who takes great comfort,
she tells me, in this music
if “The Seven Last Words of Our Saviour
on the Cross“ is not a divertimento, it
nevertheless didn’t come out of nowhere,
and a clue to its inspiration lies in the
eventual transposition of the orchestra
only piece to, a few years later, the piece
with voice, its oratorio
Haydn had heard his original composition
rendered in a nearby provincial town, where
they’d added lyrics, however saccharine, to
the score, and he thought it entirely effective
and appropriate, had new less sanctimonious
lyrics composed, and gave us what we now
hear
oratorios go back quite a while, not
surprisingly, they are quintessentially
religious music, meant to inspire, a
familiar convocational ploy, Bach and
Handel made them especially immortal
in the early 18th Century
listen to Bach’s “Easter Oratorio“ to see,
to hear rather, the connection to Haydn,
though you might not even notice much
significant difference, they’ve as many
movements more or less, nine for Haydn,
Bach’s has eleven, but all the forces are
the same, and in the same order
that Bach’s oratorio would be more
joyous is not surprising, the occasion for
the “Easter Oratorio“ is one of celebration,
where “The Words“ is more lugubrious, it
describes a portentous demise, dance
rhythms therefore are not in the former
inappropriate
its dances, however, are rather gavottes
and sarabandes instead of the later
minuets, a not not instructive alteration
when you think that minuets not much
later than Haydn had become waltzes,
more about that later
in the “Easter Oratorio“, the story is told
by the singers, whereas in “The Seven
Last Words“, the music is doing the
telling, secured by the fact that the piece
was originally written without singers
“The Words“ is more dramatic, more
use of contrasting volumes and tempi,
the piano hadn’t been invented at the
time of Bach, long notes couldn’t be
accommodated on the harpsichord,
which determined the pace of the plot,
the piano allowed with its soft pedal
a moderation in volume, and with its
hold pedal a moderation of a note’s
resonance, which allowed for more
expansive expression, which led
eventually, nearly inescapably, to
the Romantic Period, after passing,
of course, through, Mozart and
Haydn
but listen to what Bach can do
without these later interventions,
proof that a poet can inspire with
merely a matchstick, the second
aria itself – My soul, the spice that
embalms you shall no longer be
myrrh – for soprano and baroque
flute, spare as it is instrumentally,
is manifestly entirely worth the
priceless price of admission
R ! chard
March 25, 2016
“Easter Oratorio”, BWV 249 – Johann Sebastian Bach
______
for Martha and Chris, who still go to Easter
Mass, and whom Martha calls therefore
relics
and for Staf and Annemie, who live in
presently beleaguered Belgium, and
who must, at this time of distress,
need our prayers
having long ago lost track of the Christian
calendar, I only this week found out
Sunday ‘d be Easter, therefore Friday
Good Friday, not that this would much
change my daily routine, but it set me
perusing pertinent art, I knew I could
count on Bach for an oratorio, and sure
enough I found it
an oratorio, as I earlier explained, is an
opera without sets or costumes, usually
associated with religious services, but
Bach had one for every Sunday and
every Christian feast day
after an instrumental introduction,
reminiscent of Handel, I thought,
lovely adagio, notable for its exquisite
oboe obligato, where the innocence
and purity of that wind defines the
movement
the ceremonial pomp of the earlier
section then returns to include a
chorus expressing triumph, the
realization that the Lamb of God
has returned
but soon enough, Mary, the soprano
of a quartet of singers, each of the
four singing according to their own –
alto, Mary Magdalene, tenor, Simon
Peter, bass, John the Evangelist –
voices, and accompanied by an
utterly transcendental transverse
flute, sings
“My soul, the spice that embalms
you shall no longer be myrrh. Only
a crown of laurels can soothe your
anxious longing.”
and knocks your socks off
this week at market, stuffing my
organic red pepper and a bag of
handcrafted chips, barbecued,
designer, into my bag, at their
express counter, collecting my
coins, my receipt, my change
purse, my wallet, and last but not
least, of course, my self, I sensed
something of mine drop, looked
dutifully around, could find
nothing, wondered, and made to
go
excuse me, sir, I heard behind me,
you dropped something
a little boy, an urchin, blond hair,
blue eyes, right out of Charles
Dickens, I thought, eight maybe,
nine, held out a quarter, apparently
mine
why thank you, I replied, enchanted
and you know what, I asked, I’m
going to give this back to you, and
put the quarter back into his hand
the last time I did something like
that, I saw an angel, I remembered,
but that’s another story
thank you, he said back, gleaming
with the maturity of his interaction,
though I’m not sure he wasn’t
himself in fact also a very angel
later I thought I should’ve sent him
for a crème brûlée, a piece of carrot
cake, a pastry, or something, and
berated myself for the paucity of
my recompense
but there is a link to Easter in my
tale, the idea of hope, revival,
regeneration, in the possibility of
goodness reentering the world, a
task inherited by the children, and
whom we must not lead astray
apart from its more traditional
associations, for perhaps the less
observant, people of other creeds
and faiths, if Easter means anything
still, or has ever, it is about just that,
hope, revival, regeneration, nor must
we ourselves betray those ideals
happy Easter
Richard
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