I don’t know about you, but tomorrow night, I’ll be hoofing it on over to Bordentown, NJ, for some presentations about the Jersey Devil. That’s right, that resident of the Pine Barrens, who may or not keep a home in Bordentown proper and is said to have had some dealings with former Bordentown resident Joseph Bonaparte (Napoleon’s older brother). In addition to readings by the two participating novelists, my former newspaper editor, Dan Aubrey (who I finally drove to retirement), will present a history of the Jersey Devil and an overview of how it has been portrayed in art, film, literature, music, and even dance. I’ll be the guy in the corner, all in scarlet, with the big fork and a box of Red Hots. For more information, look here:
Category: Daily Dispatch
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Trenton & Princeton’s Fall Concerts
It’s autumn, the market is full of apples, and once again the music is bounteous in the Trenton-Princeton area, as I was privileged to enjoy a fruitful weekend of concerts, performed by the Capital Philharmonic of New Jersey, on Saturday night, and the Princeton Symphony Orchestra, on Sunday afternoon.
The Capital Phil program, which was presented at the Trenton War Memorial under the title “American Stories,” was, for me, just too interesting to pass up. As you know, I’m a sucker for unusual and neglected repertoire, and the first half of Saturday’s concert was like Classic Ross Amico catnip. Guest conductor Ruth Ochs selected works by two American women whose reputations surpass the comparative infrequency of live performances of their music. Ochs, conductor of the Princeton University Sinfonia, took the podium for Joan Tower’s “Made in America” and Florence Price’s “Ethiopia’s Shadow in America.”
Tower, now 86, lived with her family in Bolivia from ages nine to 18. (Her father was a mining engineer who oversaw the daily operations of the country’s tin mines.) When she came to compose “Made in America” in 2005, nearly half a century after her return to the United States, from a country blighted by poverty and, for much of its history, political instability, she recollected her early comprehension of our many blessings, including freedom of choice, potential for upward mobility, and basic luxuries we, as American citizens, too often take for granted. The patriotic song “America the Beautiful” is woven throughout the fabric of the piece, not in a jingoist fashion, but often wistfully or even challenged, suggesting perhaps the American promise is too often not only underappreciated, but also unfulfilled. The dream is nevertheless a resilient one. Personally, I nominate this work as the composer’s most attractive since “Petroushskates,” which playfully combines her admiration for Stravinsky with her love of figure skating. And the orchestra played it very well.
Following an ovation, Ochs returned to the stage to introduce Price’s “Ethiopia’s Shadow in America,” which she’s conducted before in Princeton and says is very close to her heart. Her brief comment echoed her program note, in which she shared her perception of an open-ended quality to the work, that perhaps Price was suggesting that there was still much to be achieved in this country, as far as social justice is concerned. Hey, Price couldn’t have been more dignified, for the period in which she worked and lived. “Ethiopia’s Shadow” was composed sometime before 1933 and was among the many unpublished manuscripts recovered from her dilapidated Illinois home in 2009. (Price died in 1953.) It was given what is believed to be its first performance only in 2015. The challenging thread of the work follows “The Arrival of the Negro in America when first brought here as a slave,” “His Resignation and Faith,” and “His Adaptation – A fusion of his native and acquired impulses.” The lingering spirit of its conclusion leaves a similar sensation to that of the Joan Tower piece, actually. This really was a thoughtfully-constructed program!
The second half of the concert, a more extroverted affair, was devoted to highlights from George Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess,” an American classic, which nevertheless has had a mixed reception in the Black community. For sure, the work has its stereotypes, and I can only imagine how awkward it must be to be subjected to supposed Black dialect rendered by White librettists from 1934 (note, roughly the same period as when Price was at work on “Ethiopia’s Shadow”). But really, Gershwin was flirting with verismo, an Italian operatic genre that strove for a new realism, in setting its dramatic scenarios among everyday people, especially the poor. Gershwin’s inspired music is full of humanity and, I hope, transcends any whiff of minstrelsy, not least in “Bess, You Is My Woman Now,” which musically and in performance, may have served as the highlight of the concert’s second half.
Heather Hill had a pleasing soprano voice, but it was hard to properly assess baritone Keith Spencer, as it was difficult at times to make out words or even voices from my seat in the balcony. I understand that opera singers are supposed to be able to project, but Robert Russell Bennett’s brash orchestrations did the soloists no favors, especially when played by musicians out of the opera pit and sharing the actual stage. I’m not generally one in favor of miking voices in opera, but this is one case where it might have been effective, excusable, and even appreciated. Spencer was faced with a further challenge in having to sing arias by characters in different vocal ranges, as Porgy was conceived for bass-baritone and Sportin’ Life for tenor. (You can’t have a “Porgy and Bess” sampler without “It Ain’t Necessarily So.”) At least the characters of Clara, who opens the opera with the indelible “Summertime,” and Bess are both sopranos. Nevertheless, there were moments of real electricity generated by the performance.
Westminster Choir College’s Vinroy D. Brown oversaw the orchestra and amalgamation of four choruses with which he has a history: Westminster Symphonic Choir, Westminster Jubilee Singers, Capital Singers of Trenton, and Elmwood Concert Singers. Several of the singers stepped out (figuratively speaking) to provide brief solos.
This was the first Capital Phil concert since Daniel Spalding stepped down at the end of last season, after ten years as the organization’s (founding) music director. I have to say, over all, the orchestra acquitted itself quite well. For the complete Capital Phil 2024-25 schedule, visit http://www.capitalphilharmonic.org.
I am also happy to report that Spalding remains active, and he will be bringing his Philadelphia Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra to the Trenton State Museum for another hard-to-pass-up program, which will include a suite from Bohuslav Martinu’s witty ballet, “La revue de cuisine,” which examines romantic entanglements among the kitchen utensils, and Lee Hoiby’s one-act opera “Bon Appétit!,” with Christine Meadows as Julia Child, on the evening of November 23. To learn more, check out http://www.pvco.org/event-list.
The Capital Philharmonic concert turned out to be a bit of a radio host reunion, as I ran into not only Marjorie and Buzz Herman, near my roost in the balcony, but also, downstairs, Andrew Rudin.
Then it was off to Princeton University’s Richardson Auditorium on Sunday afternoon for the second performance of the Princeton Symphony Orchestra’s season-opener, featuring Michael Abel’s “More Seasons,” Sergei Prokofiev’s “Classical Symphony,” and Ludwig van Beethoven’s “Triple Concerto.”
I’ll begin with the second half. It’s rare to encounter the “Triple Concerto” in concert. For one thing, it requires cutting checks for three soloists, as opposed to one, so if it’s done at all, it’s common for orchestras to bypass big names in favor of its principal musicians, who I assume are less likely to break the bank. This does not necessarily connote any loss in quality. This is not a star soloist vehicle, but rather a concerto for piano trio, an ensemble of well-balanced chamber musicians. The Princeton performances featured PSO concertmaster Basia Danilow (violin) and principal cellist Alistair MacRae, alongside visiting pianist Steven Beck. Danilow played with an attractive tone, and Beck rendered his part with aristocratic poise.
Beethoven was already experiencing difficulties with hearing loss at the time of the work’s composition (in 1804-08), and I’m wondering if this explains in part the questionable balance between the featured cellist and orchestra. Unless one is a career soloist with a big tone, on the level of a Leonard Rose or a Mstislav Rostropovich, it’s easy for the instrument to get swallowed up. MacRae could be heard best in the concerto’s reflective second movement. And he was a standout in that wonderful anticipatory passage that leads into the work’s uplifting finale. In the outer movements, he was done no favors by a performance that seemed to lack dynamic shading. Make no mistake, everything was played very well, as it invariably is by this ensemble. But the poor cello, in its low register, while it could certainly be heard, lacked the advantages of the violin and of course the piano. (By the way, Beethoven worked at the “Triple Concerto” concurrently with his Piano Concerto No. 4.) Perhaps everyone was simply caught up in the excitement of the moment. As I say, the composer’s great innovation in the piece is the marriage of the piano trio with the classical concerto form. The only problem is, the piano trio is all about chamber music.
Much more nuanced was Milanov’s characterful performance, on the concert’s first half, of Prokofiev’s “Classical Symphony.” This was a textbook example of a conductor really “conducting,” with Milanov, in his element, punctuating the piece with little accents and teasing out certain details in a way that revealed its careful preparation. The courtly second movement at its core opened up into a true pastoral interlude. Timpanist Jeremy Levine, who is always one of the great pleasures of attending these Princeton concerts perhaps lacked a little classical restraint at times, but when it lent such a sense of propulsion to the last movement, who cares? It was also enjoyable to be able to pick up on some of the counterpoint that too often slips by when listening to a recording, such as the bassoon part played so compellingly on Sunday by Brad Balliett.
The concert opened with Pulitzer Prize winner Michael Abels’ “More Seasons,” a quasi-minimalist riff on Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons.” The insistent basso continuo (with Hanbyeol Lee on the harpsichord) anchored the work’s inexorable progress, with the gradual introduction of later musical developments betraying that this is not indeed a genuine Baroque composition. It is, however, quite an effective piece! I must say, Abels mastered some very idiomatic Vivaldiesque string solos (much more convincing than Fritz Kreisler’s once-notorious forgeries). Guest concertmaster Claire Bourg got to show her mettle, as she played many of them.
Another fine concert, then, by perhaps the state’s best-prepared and often most exciting regional orchestra. For a complete schedule, visit http://www.princetonsymphony.org.
PHOTOS: (top) Princeton Symphony Orchestra principal cellist Alistair MacRae, concertmaster Basia Danilow, and pianist Steven Beck, with Rossen Milanov on the podium for Beethoven’s “Triple Concerto;” (bottom left) the Capital Philharmonic of New Jersey and friends, following their performance of highlights from “Porgy and Bess;” and (bottom right) yours truly, in the balcony of Patriots Theater at the Trenton War Memorial, with Marjorie and Buzz Herman
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Liszt on Film: Richter, Bogarde, Daltrey & More
Lord knows, there have been plenty of eyerolling movies about classical musicians, especially classical music composers. How many times have I seen Liszt portrayed (by Dirk Bogarde, Henry Daniell, Julian Sands, Roger Daltrey, etc.)? Sometimes, these historical figures are played by actual musicians (Gustav Leonhardt as Bach, Gidon Kremer as Paganini; there was even talk at one point about Leonard Bernstein playing Tchaikovsky, with Greta Garbo as Nadezhda van Meck!), but can even the most skilled virtuoso, or maestro, as the case may be, ever live up to accrued legend?
I know I’ve posted a link to the Leonhardt Bach film here in the past (“The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach,” 1968). Now, on the anniversary of the birth of Franz Liszt – the progenitor of the piano recital, the creator of the symphonic poem, and perhaps the greatest pianist in an era teeming with great pianists – is footage of one of his most renowned interpreters, Sviatoslav Richter, portraying Liszt in a Soviet film about Mikhail Glinka.
Can even Richter live up to the legend? See for yourself in this clip from “The Composer Glinka” (1952).
BONUS SECTION:
Henry Daniell, one of Hollywood’s most supercilious villains, as Liszt in “Song of Love” (1947)
Roger Daltrey as the Abbé Liszt, in cassock, having his blood sucked by vampire Wagner in Ken Russell’s “Lisztomania” (1975)
Corny Hungarian peasant sequence with Dirk Bogarde as Liszt in “Song without End” (1960)
Frustration of the day: only 60 seconds of Richter playing Liszt’s Piano Sonata in B minor
Richter talks about the Liszt sonata, with more footage from the same read-through
Richter playing the complete work in concert (audio only)
Figurative laurels for Franz Liszt (1811-1886) on his birthday!
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Charles Ives Avant-Garde Nostalgia
Charles Ives was the most nostalgic of avant-gardists. For the most part laboring at his music in isolation – in the evenings and on weekends, while earning his bread as an insurance executive – he managed to prognosticate, or at any rate, arrive independently, at some of the major developments of the 20th century. Some may perceive his grinding harmonies and clashing meters as a kind of temple of Moloch, on the altar of which beauty is sacrificed for effect. As Ives himself once remarked, “Are my ears on wrong?” But consider, the straw for his bricks was harvested from the music of the world around him, especially that recollected from his boyhood in Connecticut.
Ives could construct breathtaking musical edifices from the most diverse materials. Forget Moloch. Perhaps a better parallel would be the Tower of Babel. Only in Ives’ case, once the language becomes confused it actually seems to enliven his creative impulse. Consonance and dissonance are of no consequence to the composer. He listens past the cacophony to draw his energy from powerful associations. And he continued right on building, always grasping for the stars.
I find it fascinating that Gustav Mahler took an interest in Ives’ Symphony No. 3. Mahler discovered a copy of the score on his final visit to Manhattan as music director of the New York Philharmonic in 1911, and presumably it was still in his possession at the time of his death later that year. In the 1950s, an aged percussionist recollected playing the bell-part in a read-through of the work under Mahler’s baton in Munich. Did it happen? Mahler’s score has never come to light. Ives claimed Mahler took it with the intention of giving the work its premiere. Unfortunately, Mahler died (at 50) before he was able to do anything about it. It’s mind-bending to contemplate the one-time music director of the Vienna State Opera (and by extension the Vienna Philharmonic) performing Ives in 1911. When worlds collide!
But really, were the artists so very different? Mahler famously stated (to Sibelius), “The symphony must be like the world: it must embrace everything!” Mahler demonstrated this by filling his symphonies with fondly recollected folk material, rustic and courtly dances, children’s songs, hymns, and klezmer riffs. Ives leaned into hymns, patriotic marches, parlor songs, and quotations from the core classical repertoire he loved. Their music may have come out completely different, but both composers yearned to express, through these everyday human associations, universal truths that often reached beyond our terrestrial concerns.
Ives heard Mahler conduct in New York, but as he became more deeply involved in composition, he largely stopped going to concerts of other composers’ music. He found that it interfered with his recall of ideas in development, when he was still carrying them around inside his head. He said he could listen to Beethoven or Brahms, any of the music he grew up with, and it wouldn’t be an issue. But taking in new music could muddy his thoughts. Whether or not he ever heard any of Mahler’s symphonies, I do not know.
In the event, like most of Ives’ output, his Symphony No. 3 was not performed until years after it was written. Composed in 1908-10, it was finally given its premiere (in New York, under Lou Harrison) in 1946. The next year, it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music. Ives passed along half the prize money to Harrison and commented gruffly, “Prizes are for boys, and I’m all grown up.”
Ives may come across as something of a tinkerer, and he often portrayed himself as such, but like the greatest modernists, he had mastered the basics of his craft. His studies with Horatio Parker at Yale gave him a sound foundation in the rules of composition. Just as Picasso or Schoenberg demonstrated that they had mastered traditional forms before blazing their own trails, Ives was capable of writing within convention. But he was always irrepressibly Ives. He was always chafing and often pushing, and you just know Professor Parker had his hands full.
Ives, the cranky Yankee, often got his back up against the musically complacent, whom he derided in his writings as “Rollo” – a named borrow from a popular children’s book character in the decades preceding the American Civil War.
He also played baseball for Yale. Whether on the field or in his study, throughout his career, he kept right on swinging for the fences.
Remembering Charles Ives, with admiration, on the 150th anniversary of his birth!
The Symphony No. 3, subtitled “The Camp Meeting,” is actually one of Ives’ most immediately accessible scores. The three movements: “Old Folks Gatherin’,” “Children’s Day,” and “Communion.”
For Ives at his cumulatively cacophonous best, try “The Fourth of July.” No composer understood as well the holiday from a boy’s perspective!
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Charles Ives’ Concord Sonata Celebrates 150 Years
On the eve of the sesquicentennial of the birth of Charles Ives, I hope you’ll join me for a newly-recorded “The Lost Chord” and a fresh perspective on Ives’ “Concord Sonata.”
An American original and an artist ahead of his time, Ives (born in Danbury, Connecticut, on October 20, 1874) labored largely in isolation, on evenings, weekends, and holidays, while he held his lucrative day job as an insurance executive. Many of his works were not performed publicly – or at all, for that matter – until decades after they were written. So he enjoyed the luxury of not having to compromise and the independence to devote himself wholeheartedly to serving his quirky muse.
Ives’ Piano Sonata No. 2, subtitled “Concord, Mass., 1840–60,” for the most part was composed between 1909 and 1915; although, as was often the case with Ives, he began sketching some of the material years earlier and continued to tinker with it for some time after. The sonata was published in 1920 and revised in 1947.
Each of the four movements was named for figures associated with the American Transcendentalist movement: musical impressions of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, the Alcotts, and Henry David Thoreau, all based in Concord in the mid-19th century.
The work is Ives at his experimental best. It is harmonically advanced; the score was composed without bar lines; cluster chords are played by an open hand or a fist or even a piece of wood; and the music is full of characteristically Ivesian quotations, references to hymn tunes, patriotic songs and marches, and the famous motto from Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, among others.
In the 1960s, the Canadian-born American composer Henry Brant undertook an orchestration of the “Concord Sonata.” In common with Ives’ remarkably progressive bandmaster father, who sent two marching bands simultaneously around town to play clashing pieces of music so that he could enjoy the “cheerful discord” and ever-shifting spatial effects, Brant was frequently occupied with spatial concerns in his own original works. “Ice Field,” for organ and spatially-arranged orchestral groups, was inspired by his experience as a 12-year-old, crossing the North Atlantic by ship in 1926, as it navigated through a field of icebergs. The piece was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2002.
Ives was recognized with his own Pulitzer in 1946, for his belatedly-performed Symphony No. 3, composed in 1904. Giving away half the prize money to Lou Harrison, who conducted the premiere, the notoriously cantankerous Ives commented, “Prizes are for boys, and I’m all grown up.”
Film music aficionados may recognize Brant from his close association with composer Alex North. His bright, acerbic orchestrations lend zest to North’s music for “Spartacus,” “Cleopatra,” “Dragonslayer,” and so many others. In addition, he conducted the orchestra at the recording sessions for North’s rejected score for “2001: A Space Odyssey.”
Less well known is that he also worked as an orchestrator on film scores of Aaron Copland, Virgil Thomson (including “Louisiana Story,” for which Thomson was awarded the Pulitzer Prize), George Antheil, Marc Blitzstein, Douglas Moore, and Gordon Parks.
Brant said he wasn’t attempting to emulate Ives’ own orchestral style when searching for the right colors for “A Concord Symphony.” Rather, he approached the project in the manner Ravel or Schoenberg might in their own orchestrations of other composers’ works.
The effort of some 30 years (since he worked at it very sporadically), Brant’s treatment was completed in 1994. If you have always had difficulty cracking the hard nut that is Ives’ epic sonata, Brant’s orchestration illuminates many details that may get swallowed up in a performance of the original piano version. It especially pays dividends in the “Hawthorne” section (the second movement), lending lift to the patriotic tunes (“Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” and “Battle Cry of Freedom”) and the ragtime inflections.
We’ll hear the Concertgebouw Orchestra conducted by Dennis Russell Davies, in this 2007 release on the innova Recordings label.
I hope you’ll join me in opening up our ears for a salute to Charles Ives’ for his 150th birthday. That’s “Concord and Discord,” on “The Lost Chord,” now in syndication on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon!
Clip and save the start times for all three of my recorded shows:
PICTURE PERFECT, the movie music show – Friday at 8:00 PM EDT/5:00 PM PDT
SWEETNESS AND LIGHT, the light music program – ALL NEW! – Saturday at 11:00 AM EDT/8:00 AM PDT
THE LOST CHORD, unusual and neglected rep – Saturday at 7:00 PM EDT/4:00 PM PDT
Stream them, wherever you are, at the link!
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