Category: Daily Dispatch

  • A Hollywood Bowl Super-concert on “Picture Perfect”

    A Hollywood Bowl Super-concert on “Picture Perfect”

    Regardless of how you feel about the current state of the industry or the awards ceremony itself, you have to concede, there’s quite a rich history of impressive music written for film. And the Academy Awards is always the perfect excuse to look back.

    This week on “Picture Perfect,” I’ll be leaning heavily into the nostalgia, as virtually every major composer from the golden age of Hollywood comes together at the Hollywood Bowl for a concert of now-classic film scores, originally broadcast on CBS Television in 1963. The event is often referred to as “the greatest film music concert in history.”

    Participants included, among others, Alfred Newman (“How the West Was Won”), David Raksin (“Laura”), Alex North (“Cleopatra”), Johnny Green (“Raintree County”), Franz Waxman (“A Place in the Sun”), Bernard Herrmann (“North by Northwest”), Dimitri Tiomkin (“High Noon”), and Miklós Rózsa (“Ben-Hur”). They were joined by Mahalia Jackson, Andy Williams, and Jack Benny!

    An album was released on LP, but understandably the three-hour concert was severely truncated. This was somewhat remedied on a CD-reissue on the Columbia Legacy label in 1995 that included 70 minutes of music. Among the casualties, however, was Elmer Bernstein conducting the theme to “The Magnificent Seven.” I will perform a service to film music by restoring that cut from another source.

    Based on my reading and the fact that I’m finding other selections in my personal library that were recorded at the venue on the same date, there’s still much that remains to be compiled. Put out whatever you’re holding back on a double-disc, please, Sony Classical!

    Hollywood couldn’t assemble this much musical talent today if it tried. Fortunately, recordings like this one endure. I hope you’ll join me for “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” on “Picture Perfect,” music for the movies, now in syndication on KWAX Classical 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 – 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!

    https://kwax.uoregon.edu

  • Adieu, Bernard Rands

    Adieu, Bernard Rands

    My friend Mather Pfeiffenberger tipped me off last week that composer Bernard Rands died. I received the news with some amazement, as I could have sworn he’d been gone for some time. But Rands lived to a venerable age, passing on March 4, two days after his 92nd birthday.

    He was a regular presence at Philadelphia Orchestra concerts during Riccardo Muti’s music directorship in the 1980s and ‘90s. He served as the orchestra’s composer-in-residence from 1989 to 1995. If I remember correctly, as part of his job description, he offered advice on new music and exercised enormous influence over Muti’s contemporary programming. I can’t say I took to very many of the works that were performed, but I was young then. I might appreciate them more now.

    EDIT: I did NOT remember correctly. It was Richard Wernick who advised Muti. I wrote about Wernick when he died last April. (Please note, it was A.I. that generated the headline.)

    https://rossamico.com/2025/04/28/richard-wernick-pulitzer-winner-almost-hit-me/

    Born in Sheffield, England, Rands studied with Pierre Boulez and Bruno Maderna in Darmstadt and Luigi Dallapiccola and Luciano Berio in Milan. This certainly gave him a grounding in contemporary and avant-garde techniques – unquestionably he was well-versed in the multifarious musical idioms of the day, at least the more abstract ones – but I never detected anything that would frighten the horses in his own works.

    Among his residencies in the United States was a stint at Princeton University. He emigrated to the U.S. in 1975 and became an American citizen in 1983. He also held teaching posts at the University of California, San Diego, Juilliard, Yale, Boston University, and from 1988 to 2005, Harvard University.

    He was married to the composer Augusta Read Thomas. I actually had dinner with them once in Philadelphia, I believe in connection with an Orchestra 2001 concert in 2007. We were not the only guests, and if we talked at all it couldn’t have been about anything of substance, because I can’t remember anything about it.

    Rands was an influential figure, no doubt, as an advisor and teacher. He composed around 100 works, which were widely performed, and many of them were recorded. I was a frequent enough attendee of Philadelphia Orchestra concerts back in the day that I was present at the performances that were documented on this New World Records release, including “Canti dell’Eclissi” conducted by Gerard Schwarz, who as I recall was an eleventh-hour substitution for Muti, who was down with the flu. “Canti” was the recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 1984.


    I can’t say it was my favorite of his works.

    I thought “Le Tambourin Suite No. 1” was more my speed, but it’s not hitting me right this morning. It would go down a lot easier if it sounded more like “Le tombeau de Couperin.”


    In reviews, his music was often compared to that of Ravel and Debussy. This “Aubade,” the second of three movements that make up his English Horn Concerto, seems like something I could live with.


    Rands always seemed like a nice guy. I wish I liked his music better.

    R.I.P.

    ———

    Rands on listening to new music


    “Adieu”

  • Korngold’s “The Silent Serenade” to Find a Voice at Mannes

    Korngold’s “The Silent Serenade” to Find a Voice at Mannes

    I’ve been a fan of Erich Wolfgang Korngold ever since the quarterstaff music got stuck in my head while watching “The Adventures of Robin Hood” on TV when I was a kid and my best friend and I took down the curtain rods and started dueling all over the house. A few years later, I discovered the Classic Flim Scores series conducted by Charles Gerhardt, and I loved the Korngold albums best.

    But before the mass-exposure he enjoyed as one of the great composers of Hollywood’s golden age, and in fact one of the progenitors of the Hollywood sound, he was enormously successful in Europe. Whenever you listen to music in an old movie and think that it sounds like Richard Strauss, there’s a reason for that, as Korngold and Max Steiner and many of their colleagues had their origins in that world, driven from their homes and across the Atlantic by fascism, the Holocaust, and World War II.

    As a wunderkind in Vienna, Korngold was declared a genius by Gustav Mahler. In his teens, he shared a box with Strauss for the premiere of his own “Schauspiel Overture.” Afterwards, Strauss confessed he found such talent in one so young terrifying. Korngold composed a ballet-pantomime, “Der Schneemann” (“The Snowman”), when he was 12. He wrote his first opera, “Der Ring des Polykrates” (“The Ring of Polykrates”), when he was 17. His greatest hit was the opera “Die tote Stadt” (“The Dead City”), given a double premiere (with Otto Klemperer conducting at one of the venues) when he was 23. By then, he was one of the most famous composers in the world.

    The great tragedy of Korngold’s life was that by the time the war ended, the world had changed so much, it was impossible for him to regain his former prominence. His style, rooted in fin-de-siècle post-Romanticism, seemed hopelessly old fashioned after Hitler and Hiroshima. He died in 1957, at the age of 60, believing himself basically forgotten.

    That would all change in the early 1970s, as a few well-received albums, especially the Gerhardt series, sparked a renewed interest in the composer. There was also a strongly-argued performance of the post-war Symphony in F-sharp, conducted by Rudolf Kempe, and the world premiere recording of “Die tote Stadt,” what might still be the work’s best, with Erich Leinsdorf at the helm.

    As it occurred in real time, progress seemed very slow. In the 1980s, it was still difficult to hear any of the concert pieces. They were seldom programmed and recordings were few. But I acquired what I could, and with the advent of compact disc, I rode the Korngold wave, as record companies looked beyond the standard repertoire to stake out new, hopefully lucrative territory, with attractive, slightly off-the-beaten path, opulently-scored music that would exploit the fidelity and dynamic range of the new technology. I literally bought every single Korngold recording that appeared on CD until the duplications became so frequent I just couldn’t do it anymore.

    And what a difference the last 40 years have made. I remember making big plans to hear the Korngold Violin Concerto live back in 1990. Now it’s part of the active repertoire of virtually every major violinist. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve heard it now. But things were very different then.

    Recorded explorations of the composer’s output have been so successful it had seemed there was very little left to revive. Surely the major works have been exhausted? Not so!

    It was but a few years ago that I was bouncing around the internet and I stumbled across some music I had never heard. It was a Korngold operetta called “Die stumme Serenade” (“The Silent Serenade”). Again, it was written after the war, at a time when “serious” composers like Marc Blitzstein, Gian Carlo Menotti, and Leonard Bernstein were gaining a toehold on Broadway with accessible operas.

    Korngold composed a romantic farce with elements of Viennese operetta, a tradition he knew well, as the arranger of several such works by Johann Strauss II for successful revivals in the 1920s and from having completed Leo Fall’s “Roses from Florida” after Fall’s death toward the end of the decade.  In the intervening years, he had assimilated a few Americanisms he surely hoped would endear him to producers and audiences on the Great White Way.

    He also must have realized the practicality of smaller forces.  The work was conceived for eight singers, eight actors, and a chamber orchestra consisting of two pianos, the first doubling on celesta, two violins, cello, flute, clarinet or saxophone, trumpet, and percussion.

    Korngold tried it out in Europe in the early ‘50s, only to have it tank badly. There are two recordings of the piece, one taken from a Viennese radio broadcast in 1951 and more recently a 2009 recording, with a lot of German dialogue, released in 2011 on the CPO label.

    “The Silent Serenade” has never been performed in the United States. But that’s about to change, as Mannes Opera of the Mannes School of Music will host two performances, this Friday and Saturday at 7 p.m., at the Gerald W. Lynch Theater at John Jay College, 524 West 59th Street (between 10th & 11th Avenues), in New York City.

    I am sorry to say, for anyone who didn’t hop on it, tickets – which were free – are no longer available. However, the production will be streamed later this month, from what I understand, on March 23 at 4 p.m. If I were you, I would monitor Mannes’ website and social media. Good luck!

    https://event.newschool.edu/mannesoperadiestummeserenadeth

    Here’s the CPO recording of the piece, shorn of most of the spoken dialogue. The Mannes performances will be in English.


  • Beguiling New Music with the Princeton Symphony Orchestra

    Beguiling New Music with the Princeton Symphony Orchestra

    If you needed a reminder of just how good an orchestra the Princeton Symphony Orchestra is, you needed look no further than this past weekend’s concerts, in which the ensemble played two new works with such commitment that you would have sworn that they are standard repertoire.

    “Extra(ordinarily) Fancy,” composed in 2019-20 by Princeton alumnus and Curtis graduate Viet Cuong is so much fun, it would not have been out of place among the riotous offerings on a Hoffnung Music Festival concert. Except, unlike the works on those overtly comedic outings, the piece never descends into parody. What we have are two oboe soloists, positioned before a chamber orchestra, complete with harpsichord continuo, embarking on what seems like a piece of ersatz Baroque music, but soon engaging in a battle of wills as one of the oboists decides to spice things up with multiphonics (an extended technique in which the player produces multiple tones at once).

    The contagion creeps across the entire orchestra, augmented by xylophones, Leroy Anderson “Sleigh-Ride” style slapsticks, and bass drum. It also ramps up the dance inflections inherent in the ordinarily somewhat lugubrious Baroque passacaglia (itself with roots in courtly dances of 17th century Spain). The soloists, PSO principal oboist Lillian Copeland and Erin Gustafson struck just the right tone, metaphorically speaking, with first rate musicianship and some playful reactions to the discords, employing just enough restraint to get the humorous point across without distracting from the music with too much mugging. Furthermore, at ten minutes, the piece does not outstay its welcome. It’s a great curtain-raiser and deserves wider popularity.

    That was followed by the world premiere of a new harpsichord concerto by Princeton resident Julian Grant. The title, “Vaudeville in Teal,” is meant to tip us off not to expect a three-movement concerto in the classical mold, but rather a kind of sequence of varying moods and character that Grant sees as musically analogous to the vaudevilles that were popular around the turn of last century.

    As he described it to me when we discussed it last week, “It’s rather like a show with lots of disparate acts. You know, like the old-fashioned vaudevilles used to be. You’d have someone come on and do bird impressions, there’d be a flea circus from Russia, Anna Pavlova would do ‘The Dying Swan,’ you know. Some singer would come on and sing ‘O sole mio.’ I just imagined that the piece would be kind of slightly random sections.”

    The movements are given one-word titles, some of them rather whimsical especially in relation to the content: “Curtain,” “Tarantella,” “Threesome,” “Fairies,” “Spiel,” and “Follies.” These flow into one another without break.

    Despite the droll concept, you’d have to listen hard to detect anything arch or campy in the music itself. For all Grant’s playfulness, there’s no question it’s a serious piece. Moreover, it is a much more cohesive work than the “vaudeville” conceit would suggest. At the core of Grant’s musical output are 20 operas. So attuned is he to a sense of line that I think it must have carried over to his episodic concerto.

    The work is ingeniously scored for harpsichord, string orchestra, obbligato bass clarinet, and bassoon, as the handling of these self-imposed “restrictions” proved masterful. Who knew there could be so many colors to be drawn from such a limited palette? (Speaking of color, the use of “Teal” in the title is much less mysterious than it might at first be assumed: it’s the color of Grant’s harpsichord!) Furthermore, the composer deploys his forces in such a way that he repeatedly sidesteps a major pitfall in writing for such a conversational instrument, as it could easily be drowned out by a modern orchestra. It was fascinating to observe all the ways he managed to address this potential limitation. Even so, the harpsichord was unobtrusively amplified.

    Principal clarinetist Pascal Archer (on the bass clarinet) and principal bassoonist Brad Balliett played, alone and in tandem, with gorgeous, often ruminative expressiveness throughout. In fact, everyone was given ample opportunities to shine. The work begins and ends with a figure on double bass, played on the weekend concerts by PSO principal John Grillo. Grillo also had a significant part in “Threesome,” as one third of a trio with bassoon and harpsichord. Concertmaster Basia Danilow was required to step up, figuratively speaking, for glinting solos in “Tarantella” and “Follies.” Periodically the atmospheric strings would snap into focus for satisfying passages that seem to share a spiritual kinship with Béla Bartók and Benjamin Britten. “Spiel” was a spotlit moment for harpsichord alone.

    The bass contribution was not the only recurring signpost. There was also a unifying three-note motif to help orient the listener and a kind of recitative played on the harpsichord, notably at the beginning of “Threesome” and again toward the end of the piece.

    The eminent harpsichordist Mahan Esfahani was seated in profile to the audience. (Often in Baroque music, the instrument is at the center of the orchestra, with the player facing forward, the keyboard hidden, as was the case in Cuong’s piece.) Esfahani did not play the fabled teal harpsichord, but rather another instrument from the same company, black on the outside, but the raised lid revealing a painted maritime scene.

    This was not your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents’ harpsichord concerto. Esfahani played with the commitment and intensity of a piano soloist, several times rising in the bench as if it were a saddle on a galloping horse because of the expressive demands of the piece. Virtuosic fingerwork on two manuals produced subtle shifts in timbre, especially in moments when he played croisée (depressing notes on the two keyboards at the same time) or repositioned stop levers, kind of like an organist, making the instrument sound more like a lute or a harp. In addition, he frequently adjusted the upper keyboard to engage the instrument’s coupler mechanism (that couples the manuals together).

    I should mention, the concerto was actually commissioned by the Manitoba Chamber Orchestra and its music director Anne Manson, who will perform the work with Esfahani this Wednesday (tomorrow) in Winnipeg. That Princeton was granted the premiere was due to a combination of logistics, Esfahani’s flexibility, and Manson’s generosity, as well as her long relationship with the composer.

    It says something about how stimulating the music and performances were on the concert’s first half that Igor Stravinsky’s “Pulcinella” – presented after intermission in its rarely-heard complete form – came across, to this listener anyway, as somewhat anticlimactic. Don’t get me wrong: I love “Pulcinella.” As I’ve commented before, this is Stravinsky for people who don’t like Stravinsky, a ballet based on what the composer thought were tunes of Baroque master Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (since found to be misattributed). It’s endlessly melodic, frequently buoyant, and ultimately uplifting music. Stravinsky brings the 18th century source material up to date through the playful use of 20th century rhythms, cadences, and harmonies. It is indeed a felicitous, time-hopping marriage.

    Even so, the composer took all the best music and put it into a more frequently-performed concert suite (which the PSO has done in the past), and I can’t say the vocal parts really add all that much to it. That’s not to cast shade on the concert’s soloists, soprano Aubry Ballarò, tenor Nicholas Nestorak, and bass-baritone Hunter Enoch, who did well with what they had to do. Ballarò has a lovely voice, which she employs beautifully, but the words were somewhat lost, even in the intimate setting of Princeton University’s Richardson Auditorium, in a pastoral solo about a pining shepherdess. (The text is in Italian anyway, and there were supertitles throughout.) However, she blossomed in duets or trios with the men’s more powerful instruments.

    Ballarò and Nestorak are veterans of the Princeton Festival. She sang Fiordiligi in “Cosi fan tutte” in 2024, and he appeared as Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia in Derek Wang’s “Scalia/Ginsberg” in 2022 and as Spoletta in “Tosca” last year. Next month, Ballarò will sing Violetta in “La traviata” at Opera Columbus, with the PSO’s Rossen Milanov in the pit. Earlier this season, she performed Strauss’ “Four Last Songs” under Milanov’s baton with the Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra. Ballarò and Nestorak will reunite with Milanov and the Columbus Symphony in May to perform Carl Orff’s “Trionfo di Afrodite” (“Triumph of Aphrodite).

    Nestorak has been on the roster of the Metropolitan Opera since 2021. Enoch, with his pleasingly resonant voice, recently sang in Fabio Luisi’s “Ring” Cycle with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, even stepping in for Mark Delavan to cover Wotan! The “Ring” performances are being prepared for commercial release.

    Back in Princeton: It was a joy to have Copeland and Gustafson, the oboe soloists in Viet Cuong’s piece, back in the woodwind section for “Pulcinella.” They engaged in a few duets there, as well, and Copeland brought an extra degree of elegance to her solos. All of the winds and brass had their moments, but the trombonist, Connor Rowe, really stole the show, thanks in no small part to Stravinsky’s writing, but he definitely brought something extra to it.

    Milanov conducted with his usual fluency, at his best possibly in Grant’s piece, which, as a world premiere, had to be deciphered and put together very quickly. It required an opera conductor’s sense of spontaneity and flow to really allow the solos and the interplay with the various instruments to really breathe. It was expertly managed. “Pulcinella” was well-played and, again, a very good performance, but I have heard others with more snap. This is not a technical criticism, merely an interpretive observation. The piece was presented with clarity and grace, wholly befitting its Baroque antecedent, but with less emphasis on Stravinsky’s obsessive rhythmic precision and bite.

    All quibbling aside, this might just have been the most stimulating of the PSO’s concerts this season. To paraphrase “Henry V,” those who missed it (still a-bed on account of the time change, perhaps?) should think themselves accursed and hold their manhoods cheap.

    The PSO will conclude its season at Richardson on May 9 & 10, with Aaron Copland’s “Letter from Home,” Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 (with soloist Maja Bogdanović), and Sergei Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 5.

    For more information and a look at the orchestra’s 2026-27 offerings, visit princetonsymphony.org. (See the dropdown menu under “Tickets and Events.”)

  • Samuel Barber:  Absolute Beauty

    Samuel Barber: Absolute Beauty

    Recommended viewing for Samuel Barber’s birthday: H. Paul Moon’s “Samuel Barber: Absolute Beauty.” The award-winning documentary about the great American composer (world-famous for his “Adagio for Strings”) aired nationally on PBS back in 2017 and is now available for streaming on demand on Vimeo and elsewhere.

    Watch the trailer here:


    Barber makes a wish in 1977


    Happy birthday, Sam! It’s a good day for a trip to the Barber.

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