Classic Ross Amico

Category: Daily Dispatch

The Internet’s Last Obituary of Ruth Slenczynska

I had computer issues on Thursday morning, and by the time they were resolved, news had broken that Michael Tilson Thomas died. Naturally, such a huge loss to the classical music world would become the focus of my attention. But by the time I was finally able to address it, it was already well into the afternoon – and then on Friday and Saturday I have to promote my radio shows – so I’ve been unable to acknowledge the death of pianist Ruth Slenczynska.

Slenczynska, who passed on Wednesday at the age of 101, was believed to have been the last living pupil of Sergei Rachmaninoff.

Sadly, her story is an all-too-familiar one. Driven hard by a domineering father – an ambitious violinist who sustained a serious, career-ending injury on the battlefield during World War I and used his daughter a proxy to fulfill his shattered dreams – Slenczynska was ruthlessly molded into a celebrated child prodigy.

Her harrowing training involved enforced practice of up to 9 hours a day. She was kept from any society, any distraction. She was denied food, berated, and even beaten. (“The moment I missed a note, I got a crack across the cheek,” she writes in her autobiography.) When she was forced to play a recital while suffering from undiagnosed appendicitis and failed to live up to her father’s expectations, he disowned her. She wasn’t even 16 years-old. But she’d already been playing in public for ten years.

Slenczynska made her debut in Berlin at the age of 6. She performed with orchestra for the first time in Paris at the age of 7. Now at 15, she walked away from it all, attending Berkeley (where she was a psychology major) and hoping to live a normal life. She married at 19, but divorced nine years later. Still a young woman, she began to teach piano, which drew her back into the concert world.

She was artist in residence at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, a full-time position, from 1964 to 1987. In 1957, she published her memoir, “Forbidden Childhood,” which surely helped exorcise some demons. In 1968, she wrote “Music at Your Fingertips: Aspects of Pianoforte Technique.”

Her complete recordings for American Decca, set down between 1956 and 1963, were reissued as a box set by Deutsche Grammophon in 2020. Several albums were also released on Ivory Classics. In 2022, she made her final record, “Ruth Slenczynska: My Life in Music,” at the age of 97.

For interviews, she would sometimes recount her first meeting with Rachmaninoff, which took place at his Paris apartment when she was 9. In 2024, she told The Washington Post, “This very tall man opened the door and looked down at me. He pointed at me with his long finger and said, ‘THAT plays the piano?’”

If that’s not Rachmaninoff, I don’t know what is.

Even without the Rachmaninoff connection, her pedigree is breathtaking. Among her other teachers were Artur Schnabel, Egon Petri, Alfred Cortot, and Josef Hoffman.

Here’s a nice write-up by Australian Broadcasting Corporation, in which she talks about, among a great deal else, her meeting with Harry Truman. Truman, who also trained as a pianist, played a Mozart duet with her at the White House. By coincidence, I just wrote about Truman’s record collection the other day, with a link to a catalogue of the recordings he owned. In scrolling through the list, I noted there were several by Slenczynska in his library, including some of her Chopin and Liszt performances.

https://www.abc.net.au/listen/programs/legends/ruth-slenczynska/106602856

Slenczynska was born in Sacramento, CA, in 1925. In her retirement, she kept an apartment in Manhattan, but spent her last few years in Hershey, PA. After a rocky start, she seemed to pull herself together to live a fairly normal, even rewarding existence. Good for her. May she rest in peace.

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Slenczynska talks and plays Rachmaninoff in 1963

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75XnR9iGoIo

Slenczynska in a Pathé newsreel, at the age of 5

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPZiuPw-LLs

Slenczynska at 99

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lR1McqDIeLM

April 26, 2026
So Much for Escapism: Power Corrupts on “The Lost Chord”

This week on “The Lost Chord,” I indulge my inner English major with a program inspired by two plays that explore the relationship of power and corruption – Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” and Eugene O’Neill’s “The Emperor Jones.”

The impulse grew out of my recollection of the rarely-heard ballet by Heitor Villa-Lobos, which originally aired on television in 1957. However, since the score was never published, it was believed lost for decades until rediscovered by the conductor Jan Wagner (who is Venezuelan, despite his Teutonic name). Wagner will conduct the Odense Symphony Orchestra, a Nordic band, in a surprisingly idiomatic performance.

Also on the program will be a half-remembered relic of American musical history, an aria from Louis Gruenberg’s opera, “The Emperor Jones,” sung by baritone Lawrence Tibbett, recorded in 1933.

“The Emperor Jones,” written in 1920, could be a potentially sensitive subject in a more politically correct era. No doubt about it, O’Neill’s tragedy is a product of its time, with plenty of minstrel show dialect, and the uncomfortable use of the N-word.

Already in 1924, Sidney Gilpin, the actor who created Brutus Jones, hedged at playing the character in its first revival, unless O’Neill first changed what he perceived as some of the more offensive passages. O’Neill stood his ground, and Gilpin’s replacement, Paul Robeson, went on to international stardom.

It’s easy to write-off “The Emperor Jones” as an embarrassing relic. Yet there have been some high-profile stagings over the past few years which demonstrate that the play still has much to tell us.

Jones is a former railroad porter and convict, who kills a guard in his escape from prison, and through bluff and bravado establishes himself as emperor of a Caribbean island. He maintains his power through cruelty and exploitation. However, he overplays his hand, and the situation quickly erodes. As his subjects rise up against him, Jones retreats into the jungle and descends into primal fear, haunted by images of his victims.

The play not only parallels some of the themes of “Macbeth,” it also demonstrates the fragility of human reason; how easily under the influence of adrenaline, brought on by raw terror, man is undone by the animal impulses of fight or flight; the psychological impact of guilt; and an insight into tyranny which was remarkably prescient given that fascism would soon overtake Europe.

I don’t know why it never occurred to me before to juxtapose the two plays, but a quick Google search reveals that I am not the first, so there goes my dream of an honorary doctorate.

Also on the show will be selections from rarely-heard incidental music written for two productions of “Macbeth,” by William Walton (for John Gielgud) and Sir Arthur Sullivan (for Henry Irving), respectively.

Power corrupts, on “Power Plays,” on “The Lost Chord,” now in syndication on KWAX Classical Oregon!

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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

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PHOTOS: Gielgud as Macbeth (top) and Tibbett as Brutus Jones

April 25, 2026
All the World’s a Rager, as We Celebrate Shakespeare on “Sweetness and Light”

We don’t know exactly when Shakespeare was born. We do know that he was baptized on April 26, 1564. Since he died on April 23, 1616, the urge to keep it tidy has been too difficult to resist: traditionally the Bard’s birthday has been observed on the same date as that of his death. At any rate, we hardly need an excuse to celebrate his plays, which have inspired lots of colorful music.

I hope you’ll join me this morning on “Sweetness and Light” for our annual Shakespeare celebration. We’ll hear a comedy overture inspired by “Hamlet,” of all things, by Geoffrey Bush; a suite compiled from incidental music for “The Winter’s Tale,” “As You Like It,” and “The Tempest,” by Engelbert Humperdinck (composer of “Hansel and Gretel”); a prelude from one of Sir William Walton’s majestic film scores; further works for the stage by Charles Gounod and Erich Wolfgang Korngold; and one of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ loveliest creations, the “Serenade to Music,” inspired by a passage from “The Merchant of Venice.” This is a piece of such aching beauty, it’s said to have brought the notoriously dour Sergei Rachmaninoff, present at the work’s first performance, to tears.

Laughing at “Hamlet” and crying at beauty? Partying is such sweet sorrow! I hope you’ll join me for an hour of great Shakes on “Sweetness and Light,” this Saturday morning at 11:00 EDT/8:00 PDT, exclusively on KWAX Classical Oregon!
Stream it, wherever you are, at the link!

https://kwax.uoregon.edu/

April 25, 2026
Strike Up, Pipers! Patrick Doyle Does Shakespeare on “Picture Perfect”

We don’t know exactly when Shakespeare was born, but he was baptized on April 26, 1564 – so it could have been a few days before that. Since he died on April 23, 1616, and because human beings love symmetry, the Bard’s birthday is most commonly observed on the presumptively-shared anniversary of his death. His little life may have been rounded with a sleep, but posterity has fluffed the pillows in an impulse to keep things tidy.

Be that as it may, this time of year is an excellent excuse to make much ado about Patrick Doyle. This week on “Picture Perfect,” we’ll enjoy selections from Doyle’s scores composed for the films of Kenneth Branagh.

In 1987, Doyle joined Branagh’s Renaissance Theatre Company, for which he provided incidental music. Two years later, Branagh – and by extension, Doyle – made a leap to the big screen, where they achieved a remarkable feat, rethinking Shakespeare’s “Henry V.” Remember, this is the play that propelled Laurence Olivier to worldwide fame in 1944, both as a filmmaker and the Bard’s most celebrated interpreter, and William Walton’s score is regarded as one of the best of all time.

Branagh’s version is quite different. Though equally rousing, it doesn’t shy away from Henry’s more complicated nature and the grittier aspects of what it means to go to war. It was a bold gamble, but one that paid off. Not only did this revisionist “Henry” receive nearly universal acclaim, the film was a box office success, and Branagh would be nominated for two Academy Awards, like his predecessor, in the categories of Best Actor and Best Director. Certainly, the film’s score deserved to be recognized – but in the year of “The Little Mermaid,” it failed even to secure an Academy Award nomination.

An interesting footnote: Doyle himself is the baritone who introduces “Non nobis Domine,” a prayer of thanksgiving, following the Battle of Agincourt.

In 2006, Branagh directed an adaptation of “As You Like It.” As has become his custom, he took a celebrity approach to its casting, although perhaps not so wildly uneven as some of the cameos in his big screen “Hamlet.” Kevin Kline plays Jacques; Alfred Molina the fool, Touchstone; and Branagh regulars, Brian Blessed and Richard Briers appear, as well.

The most radical liberty taken with the play is that Branagh transplants the action to 19th century Japan. The language remains firmly rooted in Shakespeare’s text, although there are striking cross-cultural elements, including ample kimonos, kabuki theatre, ninjas, and a sumo wrestler. Still, it’s a long way off from the astounding bomb that was Branagh’s American Songbook-interpolated “Love’s Labour’s Lost.”

While Olivier’s “Hamlet” won four Academy Awards in 1948, including those for Best Picture and Best Actor, Branagh’s 1996 version is cinema’s first adaptation of the complete text. It is, unavoidably, an uneven interpretation, with some puzzling casting choices – including walk-ons by Jack Lemmon, Robin Williams, and Gerard Depardieu – but there are enough merits, certainly, to make the four-hour trek worthwhile.

Finally, Branagh teamed with his then-wife, Emma Thompson, for a “merry war” of wits, as Benedick and Beatrice, in his 1993 adaptation of “Much Ado About Nothing.” Again, the film features an eclectic supporting cast of classically trained actors and pop Hollywood phenomena. Briers, Blessed, and Imelda Staunton share screen time with Denzel Washington, Michael Keaton, and Keanu Reeves. Yet, somehow, despite the different nationalities, ethnicities, and accents, the entire enterprise works. There is an exuberance to the over-the-top opening sequence which sets up a momentum that carries through the rest of the film.

Sigh no more! Join me for the Shakespeare scores of Patrick Doyle on “Picture Perfect,” music for the movies, now in syndication on KWAX Classical Oregon!

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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

April 24, 2026
In the Blink of an Eye, Michael Tilson Thomas Is No More

This is one of those days I always knew would come – at least for the last five years or so – and now I am very sorry it’s here. For the conductor Michael Tilson Thomas has died.

In my memory, Tilson Thomas will always be the effusive, boyish protégé of Leonard Bernstein. There are many, I’m sure, who during those early years predicted he would inherit Bernstein’s mantle as the most recognized and beloved American conductor. Alas, it did not come to pass. It’s not that he wasn’t recognized and beloved, but there could be only one Leonard Bernstein. Still, MTT had a great career and a rewarding life. You can’t fault excellence for not attaining superstardom.

At one time or another, he held positions as music director of the Buffalo Philharmonic, chief conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, founder and artistic director of the New World Symphony (an ensemble made up of gifted young musicians), and music director of the San Francisco Symphony. He also enjoyed a fruitful relationship with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, of which he was once assistant conductor and with which he made some classic recordings.

Over0 the course of his career, Tilson Thomas amassed a cabinet full of Grammys, a Peabody Award, a National Medal of Arts, and a Kennedy Center Honor. Like Bernstein, he was also a composer. A few of his works reflected his Jewish heritage and honored his grandparents’ experience in the Yiddish theater. (He was the grandson of Boris and Bessie Thomashefsky.)

There’s plenty in his discography that’s given me great pleasure over the years: recordings of the symphonies of Charles Ives; orchestral works of Aaron Copland and Igor Stravinsky; a colorful selection of “Bachianas Brasileiras” by Heitor Villa-Lobos; a fascinating curio, “The American Flag,” by Antonín Dvořák; an album of the late choral works of Beethoven (including “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage”) that I acquired on vinyl from my local record store when I was in high school; of course his Gershwin records, especially the one with “Rhapsody in Blue” in its original version; and a knock-out disc of American orchestral works, including Walter Piston’s Symphony No. 2, Ives’ “Three Places in New England,” and that prickly masterpiece, Carl Ruggles’ “Sun-Treader.”

MTT recorded the complete works of Ruggles, a cantankerous, problematic composer, who wrote music of uncompromising integrity and dissonance. These were released on a two-LP set on CBS Masterworks. It must have sold about five copies, because the label never bothered to reissue it on compact disc, so that it became a kind of Holy Grail among collectors. It finally reappeared on the independent label Other Minds, 37 years later, in 2017! It would have been nice had they retained the design of the original album, but some of the elements were the same. Significantly, they were able to hang on to the program notes, which were supplemented by photos and an essay by Lou Harrison.

Tilson Thomas conducted the first concert I ever saw with the Philadelphia Orchestra at the Mann Music Center in the summer of 1984, when he was joined by André Watts, the soloist in Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2, and after intermission led the ensemble in Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra – with a thunderstorm looming, no less. Why they didn’t clear the lawn, I have no idea. You were just expected to pull your shirt over your head or run for cover in those days.

The last time I saw him was in Philadelphia in 2008, this time indoors at the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts, when he was joined by Paul Jacobs for Copland’s Organ Symphony and then, on the concert’s second half, he conducted Mahler’s Symphony No. 5.

As is so often the case, we tend to take what’s available to us for granted. So it was like a splash of ice water, when five years ago, Tilson Thomas was diagnosed with glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer. Although he scaled back his activities for treatment and to husband his resources, he continued to perform, and during the period, a sort of sustained victory lap, he was received by audiences everywhere with notable warmth.

His husband, Joshua Robison, died only two months ago. The two met in junior high school and were together for 50 years.

Tilson Thomas is one of those figures I will always remember in the summer of his youth. I recollect watching him play Copland’s Piano Variations on a PBS television documentary about the composer, broadcast over 40 years ago now, and his commentary about the piece, which he compared to a skyscraper in sound. I can’t get over how quickly time passes.

Michael Tilson Thomas was 81 years-old. R.I.P.

April 23, 2026

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