Classic Ross Amico

Category: Daily Dispatch

  • Star Wars Music Retrospective Original Soundtrack

    Star Wars Music Retrospective Original Soundtrack

    A disconcerting thought occurred to me the other night, as I was driving up to my folks’ late Wednesday, after having completed production work on this week’s “Picture Perfect.” We are now as far away from the original “Star Wars” (released in 1977), as “Star Wars” was from “Gone With the Wind” (released in 1939)! I am always thinking thoughts like that, and it’s like getting my brain pinched in a collapsed telescope. It would have been possible, then, in 1977, that Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh, had they lived, could have come back for a belated sequel to one of the most beloved classics in American cinema.

    I’m not saying I would have wanted that, but it is something to ponder, with the impending release of “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” on December 18. Can this film possibly live up to the hype? Of course, the bar has been set pretty low after the prequels. But come on, the Millennium Falcon is back, John Williams is doing the music, and George Lucas is in no way involved. Who doesn’t want to see a 70 year-old Han Solo brandish a sidearm at least one more time?

    Clearly, this could rapidly degenerate into obsessive geekdom, so allow me merely to point out the fact that this week on “Picture Perfect,” we will begin a multi-part musical retrospective of the “Star Wars” movies. Part one will focus on the film that started it all.

    “Star Wars,” as it was known when it was first released in theaters on May 25, 1977 (later to be retitled “Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope”) provided a fun and fantastic escape to a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Things became a lot more serious and jargon-heavy as the saga progressed. We’ll try to shrug off some of that ponderousness and remember what it was like to first encounter the wonder of John Dykstra’s Oscar-winning special effects (before they were replaced, retroactively, with CGI), and John Williams’ fresh and heroic music, credited with singlehandedly reviving the fortunes of the orchestral film score. “Star Wars” went on to become the best-selling orchestral soundtrack of all-time.

    Now, there are two options when it comes to listening to a classic soundtrack originally released during this era. The first is to enjoy it in the form it was originally issued, in which composer and music editor took cues from different parts of the movie and arranged them into musically satisfying sequences on the album. The second is to listen, as many prefer today, when soundtracks are released note-complete, to everything presented chronologically, even if some of the cues are mere fragments, as it is heard in the film. Fortunately, because of the continued interest in “Star Wars,” the music has been reissued several times, so that it can be enjoyed either way.

    Since I personally first obtained this soundtrack on vinyl, I have a preference for the form in which I first encountered it (though I’m certainly happy to own the complete score, as well). The double-LP contents no longer seem to be commercially available. Therefore, I am happy to present this rare opportunity to enjoy the music as countless did when the album was released, back in 1977.

    Williams’ Academy Award-winning score, while adored by millions, has been criticized by some for its at times derivative nature, with suggestions of Holst, Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Korngold, Dukas and Walton, among others. I tend to think of it as being brilliantly post-modern, hand-in-glove with Lucas’ cinematic approach, which draws on any number of western, swashbuckler, war, and samurai motifs. Influences abound – intentionally, I think – but at no time can the composer be mistaken for anyone other than John Williams.

    I hope you’ll join me as we listen to the London Symphony Orchestra, having the time of its life, on the original soundtrack to “Star Wars,” tonight at 6 ET, with a repeat tomorrow morning at 6; or that you’ll listen to it later as a webcast at wwfm.org.

  • Virgil Thomson Birthday Composer & Critic

    Virgil Thomson Birthday Composer & Critic

    Today is the birthday of Virgil Thomson (1896-1989), faux naïf composer and feared critic of the New York Herald Tribune.

    I included two of Thomson’s “Five Blake Songs” on this week’s edition of “The Lost Chord” (which repeats tonight at 6 ET at wwfm.org), devoted yet again to recordings of American music by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra.

    The songs, written for baritone Mack Harrell, were originally recorded for Columbia Records in 1951. When the recording was reissued on CRI in the 1970s, Thomson himself suppressed the fourth of them, “The Little Black Boy,” which therefore was absent from the only CD issue, in 1989, on the Bay Cities label. I own both the original LP and the Bay Cities disc, but since I only had time for two songs anyway, I resorted to the more portable CD. Fortunately, another maniacal collector has posted all five on YouTube. Here they are for your enjoyment:

    It’s wonderful to have a composer like Thomson born so close to Thanksgiving. Here’s probably his best-known work, the “Symphony on a Hymn Tune”:

    And, for good measure, his concertino for harp, strings and percussion, “Autumn”:

    Happy birthday, Virgil Thomson!

    PHOTO: Thomson, in his “office”

  • Elie Siegmeister’s Western Americana

    Elie Siegmeister’s Western Americana

    On this date in 1945, Arturo Toscanini conducted the premiere of Elie Siegmeister’s “Western Suite” in a concert broadcast with the NBC Symphony Orchestra. Its cowpoke lyricism and buckaroo high spirits struck a bulls-eye with audiences and critics in a cowboy-mad America. Aaron Copland’s “Billy the Kid” had been given its premiere in 1939 (the same year as John Ford’s “Stagecoach”) and “Rodeo” followed in 1942. Pulp magazines and dime-store novels fed the western craze, and cinemas were teeming with broad vistas and portrayals of the quiet dignity of the cowboy.

    While hardly his most innovative or personal work, the “Western Suite” served to put Siegmeister on the map. According to the composer, he had only a few of his compositions published up until that time. The day after the performance, three publishers were vying for his work. “The piece had a lot of earthy, touchy quality about it,” he said, “which is, I think, one of the characteristics of a great deal of American music. There is a kind of lusty feeling, with sometimes a roughness, a harshness, or whatever you want to call it.”

    Already in 1939, he had formed the American Ballad Singers, hoping to replicate the experience he had had when he first witnessed the English Singers, six touring musicians who introduced the madrigal to New York. It was like an epiphany for Siegmeister, and he determined to bring our native folk tradition alive in a similar fashion for the American public. Americana was at its peak during those years, with folk singers like Burl Ives and, soon after, Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger very much on the rise. The American Ballad Singers tapped into the zeitgeist and toured the country to enthusiastic reviews.

    Though Siegmeister wrote orchestral works like “American Holiday” (1933), “Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight” (1937), the “Ozark Suite” (1943) and “Prairie Legend” (1944), and an opera (he composed eight) called “Night of the Moonspell” (1974-6), which transposed Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” to Louisiana, homespun Americana hardly encapsulates the whole of his output.

    True, American jazz was frequently an influence. He also wrote a string quartet on Jewish themes. But there were plenty of abstract pieces, as well, including eight symphonies, a number of concertos and plenty of chamber music.

    In addition, he wrote successful books on music, including “Treasury of American Song” (1940-43), “The Music Lover’s Handbook” (1943, revised in 1973), and “Harmony and Melody” (1985). He helped found the American Composers Alliance, with the aim of publishing and promoting music by American composers, in 1937. Later, he served on the board of directors of ASCAP, from 1977 until his death in 1991.

    By coincidence, Siegmeister’s “American Sonata” (1944) will be performed tonight by pianist Cecile Licad, on a recital hosted by the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society. Also on the program will be sonatas by Alexander Reinagle (who wrote a number of pieces for George Washington), Edward MacDowell and Charles Tomlinson Griffes. The concert will take place at the American Philosophical Society, 427 Chestnut Street, at 8 p.m.

    FUN FACT: The theme from Siegmeister’s only film score, “They Came to Cordura” (1959), is the signature music for my show, “Picture Perfect.” You can hear the passage at 43 seconds into the film.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwYWx8gtjBo

    Siegmeister’s “Western Suite”:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tzyS1klaRo

    As part of the fascinating Toscanini broadcast, which also features music by Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Vittorio Rieti and Paul Creston (the “Western Suite” begins at the 40 minute mark):
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ufiigg8_DMI

    Interview with Siegmeister by Bruce Duffie:
    http://www.kcstudio.com/sieg2.html

    Interview with Siegmeister by David Dubal!

    PHOTOS: Elie Siegmeister (right) with pulp western from 1945

  • Debussy’s Clair de lune and André Caplet

    Debussy’s Clair de lune and André Caplet

    “Clair de lune” – Debussy, right?

    The work began as a piano piece, one of the movements from Debussy’s “Suite bergamasque.” However, the lovely orchestral version was produced by André Caplet.

    One of the reasons superior sorts tend to look down their noses at film music is that the composers frequently work with orchestrators (though the better composers are very meticulous about notating their requirements). However, the practice is not exclusive to Hollywood.

    The Dutch masters were not always responsible for all the elements in the paintings attributed to them. For a famous example, see Rubens’ “Prometheus Bound” (which you can view in person, if you are reading this locally, at the Philadelphia Museum of Art). Similarly, successful authors sometimes set up studios, kind of like architects, with anonymous collaborators doing a lot of the heavy lifting. The practice dates back to at least Alexandre Dumas, who churned out novels at a dizzying rate.

    In classical music, many of the orchestral works of Grieg and Liszt received ample assistance from others (though Liszt gained confidence – and autonomy – as time went on). Charles Koechlin worked behind the scenes with Debussy and Gabriel Fauré.

    Caplet, a winner of the esteemed Prix de Rome, provided orchestrations for Debussy’s “Children’s Corner,” “Clair de lune,” “The Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian” and “La Boiîte à joujoux.”

    He directed the Boston Opera from 1910 to 1914. While serving in the First World War, he was caught in a gas attack, which resulted in the pleurisy that plagued him for the remainder of his short life. Caplet died in 1925, at the age of 44.

    Why is it so important to us, I wonder, that a work of art emerge seemingly from a single source – the “auteur,” as it were? While most of Caplet’s own music languishes in obscurity, his work for Debussy lives on.

    Happy birthday, André Caplet!

    Caplet’s orchestration of “Clair de lune”:

    His own “Septuor” for string quartet and three female voices:

    Rubens’ “Prometheus Unbound”:

    http://www.philamuseum.org/collections/permanent/104468.html

    PHOTO: Caplet (left) with Debussy

  • Ormandy’s Lost American Music Rediscovered

    Ormandy’s Lost American Music Rediscovered

    I hope you’ll join me tonight on “The Lost Chord,” as we round out our trilogy of programs featuring rarely-heard recordings of American music by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra.

    We’ll hear two songs (originally from a collection of five), after texts of William Blake, by Virgil Thomson; Roy Harris’ underrated Symphony No. 7, in a powerhouse performance; and Louis Gesensway’s “Four Squares of Philadelphia.”

    Gesensway was born in Latvia in 1906. A violin prodigy, he was one of the founders of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. He came to Philadelphia at the age of 19, where he played in the orchestra under Stokowski and Ormandy.

    In his mid-20s, he took a leave of absence to study composition with Zoltán Kodály. “Four Squares of Philadelphia” was described by the composer as a “symphonic poem for large orchestra, narrator and street criers.”

    The piece opens with a recitation of William Penn’s prayer, then continues with musical evocations of Washington Square (captured in early morning, during Colonial times, with street criers hawking their wares), Rittenhouse Square (on a bright and cheerful afternoon), Logan Square (with its fountains at dusk), and Franklin Square (at night, reflective of noisy bridge traffic, with a side excursion into Chinatown, and interjections from the honky tonk joints located around the square in the 1950s).

    I hope you’ll join me for one more trip to the well, with “All-American Ormandy III,” tonight at 10 ET, or that you’ll listen to it (while you’re sitting in traffic, no doubt) when the show repeats Thanksgiving eve at 6. If your family is stressing you out, you can always catch it later as a webcast at wwfm.org.

    PHOTO: Statue of Penn high atop the city he founded

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