Category: Daily Dispatch

  • Remembering the BBC’s “My Music”

    Remembering the BBC’s “My Music”

    Scrolling through the musical birthdays today, I notice the name of Ian Wallace. Does anyone else remember “My Music?”

    “My Music” was a ridiculously entertaining BBC game show, I suppose (what else to call it?) that pit two teams of two panelists each against one another for a half-hour of musical trivia, song, and droll digression. I don’t think anyone ever really cared who won, least of all the contestants, who returned week after week anyway.

    Ian Wallace (1919-2009), a bass-baritone, broadcaster, and entertainer, appeared regularly, alongside comedy writers Denis Norden (1922-2018) and Frank Muir (1920-1998). At the point I was listening they were usually joined by broadcaster and music critic John Amis (1922-2013). Other contestants over the years included singers David Franklin and Owen Brannigan. The show was hosted for its entire run by Steve Race (1921-2009). Wallace and Race appeared in all 502 episodes. Race, also a pianist, accompanied each of the contestants in zany novelty songs and music hall numbers. The non-singers had no voices at all, but that only lent to the fun.

    Even though the show ran from 1967 to 1993 (with rebroadcasts continuing until 2011), the production always had something of an early ‘70s vibe, kind of like if Dick Cavett had hosted a revival of “Name That Tune” produced by Chuck Barris. There was also a TV show that ran from 1977 to 1983. Even without seeing these guys, I just knew they were wearing very wide lapels.

    I listened to it for years on our radio station, which carried it from the BBC World Service, by way of the WFMT Fine Arts Network, when it aired on Saturday evenings. At the start, I would listen for the pure enjoyment of it – I always admire the breadth and width of experience of seasoned music-lovers, and these guys had clearly been around and seen and heard it all – whether it be classical, jazz, popular, or music hall.

    Week after week, I’d listen and try to play along, and every once in a while I’d know an answer, but any one of these guys could have mopped the floor with me. Little did I realize I was like one of those bumbling apprentices in a kung fu movie, subject to repeated failure and humiliation, only to realize at the climactic showdown that, through observation and the wise tutelage of a sly master, I had inadvertently been attaining mastery myself! Seemingly all at once, the day came when I could actually answer most of the questions. Then, of course, the distributors finally pulled the plug.

    Of course, no matter how much of the trivia I knew, there is no way I would ever acquire the same kind of experience these gentlemen did, all of them having lived through the Great Depression and World War II. All of them had seen and heard so much. And, of course, they were all outstanding raconteurs.

    I confess I’m just using Wallace’s birthday as an excuse to write about this, as earlier this summer I came across some television broadcasts of the program on YouTube, and I’d been biding my time to post about it.

    I admit that not every 30 year-old would find “My Music” entertaining, but I was always a little unusual. This would have been the era during which I had to rise at 3 or 4:00 in order to turn on the transmitter before my morning air shifts. If I heard the start of “Distant Mirror” at 10 p.m., I knew I was up too late! Since I always lived in student-heavy neighborhoods and apartment buildings, parties would often rage well into the night. I had very little sleep on weekends for 19 years. Perhaps this aged me sufficiently so that I was on the same wavelength as “My Music!”

    I do miss these guys. Accumulated knowledge like theirs, much of it time-specific, is irreplaceable. As each generation passes, we lose so much. And their like will not come again.


    “My Music” television broadcast – with smaller lapels and less garish colors than I would have ever imagined!

    PHOTO (left to right): Ian Wallace, Denis Norden, Frank Muir, and John Amis; at the piano, Steve Race

  • Leonard Pennario Piano Bridge Master

    Leonard Pennario Piano Bridge Master

    He liked his keys and he liked his cards. One hundred years ago today, pianist and bridge master Leonard Pennario was born in Buffalo, New York.

    Pennario gave his first public performance in a department store there at the age of 7. After his father’s shoe business collapsed during the Great Depression, he and his family moved to Los Angeles when he was 10. Los Angeles was to remain his base of operations for the rest of his career, until his retirement in 2005.

    Pennario was a born musician with an outstanding memory. At the age of 12, he was recommended by Sir Eugene Goossens to the Dallas Symphony Orchestra as a substitute for an ailing pianist. Asked if he knew Grieg’s Piano Concerto, Pennario said yes, when in fact he had never even heard it. He was able to learn the piece in six days, without missing any school. His debut was a triumph and the beginning of an extraordinary career.

    He rose to prominence without ever attending a music college or entering a piano competition. He did, however, take lessons from Isabelle Vengerova, whose other students included Samuel Barber, Leonard Bernstein, Gary Graffman, and Abbey Simon. He also studied composition with Ernst Toch at the University of Southern California.

    He served in the U.S. Army during the Second World War, and made his debut with the New York Philharmonic under Artur Rodzinski, in Liszt’s First Piano Concerto, while still in uniform, in 1943.

    Temperamentally, he was the polar opposite of Glenn Gould, who, early on, abandoned public concertizing, in favor of the hermetic environment of the recording studio, or even Vladimir Horowitz who suffered harrowing bouts of stage fright. Pennario adored performing before an audience, and his magnetism and self-confidence were evident to those who were lucky enough to have heard him live. His was an unshakeable technique, characterized by clarity, speed, and accuracy, combined with a sense of spontaneity and soulfulness.

    His recordings of Gershwin and Rachmaninoff have seldom, if ever, been out of the catalogue. His “Rhapsody in Blue” was one of the most popular of all classical LPs, and he was the first pianist after the composer to record all the Rachmaninoff concertos. In 1959, he was declared the best-selling American pianist. He was also the first to record the works of Louis Moreau Gottschalk. In all, he made over 60 records.

    Pennario’s association with Hollywood unsettled some musical elitists, especially when he recorded an album like “Concertos Under the Stars,” featuring Addinsell’s “Warsaw Concerto,” among other potboilers, or when he adapted his own “Midnight on the Cliffs” for the Doris Day film “Julie.” He dated Elizabeth Taylor and palled around with Judy Garland. He was an early champion of the concert music of Academy Award-winning film composer Miklós Rózsa. In the meantime, he was also recording piano trios with Jascha Heifetz and Gregor Piatigorsky.

    In addition to being an exceptional pianist, he was an accomplished card player. He discovered bridge in 1965, formed a celebrity quartet with Don Adams (of “Get Smart”), band leader Les Brown, and Joan Benny (Jack Benny’s daughter), and under the tutelage of his friend, columnist Alfred Sheinwold, attained an enviable level of expertise. In fact, he became a Life Master in tournament bridge, and earned a listing in the Official Encyclopedia of Bridge.

    Apparently, Sheinwold shared Pennario’s passion for music. During their get-togethers the pianist would sometimes accompany him in lieder of Schubert and Brahms. Said Pennario, “He had a fine tenor voice… I would accompany him and he in turn would partner me in tournaments. Each of us felt he had the better deal!”

    In the late 1990s, the onset of Parkinson’s Disease forced Pennario into retirement. Bridge became the solace of his old age. He died in La Jolla, California, on June 28, 2008, at the age of 83.

    Fondly remembering Leonard Pennario on the 100th anniversary of his birth!


    “Rhapsody in Blue”

    With Fiedler and the Boston Pops: Rachmaninoff’s “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini,” César Franck’s “Symphonic Variations,” and Henry Charles Litolff’s Scherzo from the Concerto Symphonique No. 4

    Live performance of Miklós Rózsa’s Piano Concerto, with post-performance interview

    Trios with Heifetz and Piatigorsky

    “Midnight on the Cliffs”

    On Kraft Music Hall with Nelson Eddy in 1947

  • Elgar’s 1st Symphony KWAX Radio Joy

    Elgar’s 1st Symphony KWAX Radio Joy

    Enjoying Sir Edward Elgar’s Symphony No. 1 on KWAX, thanks to my new internet radio. I remember when you used to be able to hear a substantial, complete symphony like this in the middle of the day in the Trenton-Princeton area. No more. I venture to guess you won’t hear it on the Philadelphia station either. And certainly not on WQXR. You have my gratitude, KWAX!

  • Antheil’s Machine Music A Christmas Story Connection

    Antheil’s Machine Music A Christmas Story Connection

    I’ve written a great deal about George Antheil, Trenton-born “Bad Boy of Music” (which also happens to be the title of his autobiography) – his early notoriety, riots erupting in Europe over the brutality of his machine music (he used to brandish a pistol before launching into his recitals), most famously the “Ballet Mécanique,” with its battery of player pianos, sirens, doorbells, and airplane propellers; his writings on a wide variety of topics (murder mysteries, endocrinology, war correspondence, advice to the lovelorn); his Hollywood film scores; his symphonies in the grand manner of the Greatest Generation of American composers, championed by Leopold Stokowski and others; his friendship with Hedy Lamarr and their experiments with torpedo-jamming technology in the hopes of aiding the Allied war effort.

    There are so many stories to tell about George Antheil. What didn’t he do? Who didn’t he know?

    Well, today I’m going to turn it over to Jean Shepherd. In case the name doesn’t ring a bell, Shepherd was the storyteller, humorist, writer, and radio personality who spun gold from the experiences and eccentricities of his boyhood in blue-collar Indiana, which he harvested to notable comic effect. These provided seemingly inexhaustible grist for his radio broadcasts, books, movies, and television specials. Shep was a virtuoso at making the personal universal. His blend of comic observation and nostalgia invariably entertained.

    For those too young to have caught his radio show, Shep’s spirit lives on in annual marathons of the modern classic “A Christmas Story” (1983), with its knowing reminiscences of the aspirations and terrors of childhood. References to Red Ryder BB guns and “fra-gee-lee” leg lamps are now part of the American holiday experience.

    Well, Shep happened to be a huge Antheil fan, sometimes incorporating the composer’s music into his radio broadcasts. You can hear Shep’s account of how he met Antheil at the automat, in this show from 1976.

    As is often the case with Shep, the journey is the destination. He likes to digress and take in the scenery, so depending on how you calculate, he finally arrives at Antheil somewhere between 12 and 15 minutes in. However, the preamble, about Dadaism and Paris in the 1920s, is certainly relevant. He doesn’t get all the details correct (there are no anvils or sledgehammers in “Ballet Mécanique”), but he’s got the spirit right and it’s still colorfully told. Shep’s not one to let facts get in the way of a good story!

    More concise, at 7 minutes, is Shep’s eulogy to Antheil on another show, following the composer’s death. If you can only listen to one, make it this one.

    https://www.antheil.org/audio/ShepEulogy.mp3?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR178E4RWuaNxGzdrfDjuC0S99yr147jcsZwg8XHs0FhPFQJQg_c2g47ADU_aem_C_kPbZAFOqzuPYmPO-8daA

    Happy birthday, George Antheil, and thank you, Jean Shepherd – two American originals!


    “Ballet Mécanique” was revised for performance by more manageable forces in 1953, but that version fails to capture the inexorable machine madness of the 1924 original, here recreated with the assistance of digital technology (MIDI, Yamaha Dysklaviers, computers, etc.) and the percussive digits of six live pianists (as opposed to just pianolas).

  • Bernstein’s Borrowed Mahler Score Returns Home

    Bernstein’s Borrowed Mahler Score Returns Home

    Neither a borrower nor a lender be.

    Leonard Bernstein never returned the Vienna Philharmonic’s score of Gustav Mahler’s “Das Lied von der Erde” (“Song of the Earth”) – the one used by Bruno Walter at the work’s premiere in 1911.

    Bernstein borrowed the score in 1966. After he died in 1990, apparently his family donated his collection of scores to the New York Philharmonic. Vienna’s “Das Lied” resurfaced in 2017, when it was put on display as part of an exhibition celebrating the orchestra’s 175th anniversary. It just so happened that the exhibition was co-curated by the Vienna Philharmonic, then also celebrating its 175th year. At a point, representatives from both orchestras noted the original ownership stamp and shared a good chuckle. Oh, that Lenny. Until then, the polite Viennese had never said anything about it.

    When the exhibition closed, the New York Philharmonic and the Bernstein family finally returned the score. Vienna took the high road. In a public statement, the Vienna Phil’s chairman issued a statement, “Not only are we thrilled to have back this historic score, which was originally used by Bruno Walter in the first Vienna Philharmonic performance of ‘Das Lied von der Erde,’ but we treasure its special connection to our friend and collaborator Leonard Bernstein, who maintained close relationships with the Vienna and New York Philharmonics and whose memory we cherish.”

    Good save.

    Lenny had marked it all up, of course. This is why I don’t lend books or recordings – especially to Leonard Bernstein.


    Bernstein conducts “Das Lied” in 1972 (with English subtitles)

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Npy4gjZ81F0

    Bruno Walter conducts it live in Vienna in 1952

    Christa Ludwig disagrees with Bernstein’s tempo

    Return of the manuscript as reported in the New York Times in 2017

    https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/28/arts/finally-returning-bernsteins-overdue-mahler.html

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