Composer Jean-Baptiste Lully, also an accomplished dancer, injured his toe while pounding the floor with a heavy stick to mark time; the resultant infection killed him.
Anton Webern violated curfew when he snuck out on his porch for a smoke and was shot by an American soldier.
Ernest Chausson lost control of his bicycle and fatally slammed into a brick wall.
Fire tore through Geirr Tveitt’s cabin and destroyed four-fifths of his compositional output, driving him to alcoholism.
Friedrich Kuhlau blinded himself when he fell on a bottle at the age of seven; later, he died of complications after being left out in the cold all night as his house burned to the ground.
Charles-Valentin Alkan was reaching for a copy of the Talmud, located on a high shelf, when the bookcase toppled, crushing him.
Henry Purcell developed pneumonia after his wife locked him out of the house for coming home late after one too many pub crawls.
Alexander Scriabin died of a septic carbuncle.
Tchaikovsky drank cholera-contaminated water.
Jean-Marie Leclair was found murdered in his room.
Alessandro Stradella was set upon by unidentified assassins.
None of these misfortunes occurred on Friday the 13th.
Toss some salt over your shoulder and whistle a happy tune!
On April 23, Toradze suffered heart failure in Vancouver, Washington, in the middle of a performance of Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2. Incredibly, he finished the piece. Then he went to the hospital. It was only then that he learned what had happened.
Not long after, he posted a message from his bed, in which he was evidently in great spirits – even lauding his doctor, who was still in the room – and full of optimism for a speedy recovery.
Toradze was professor of piano at University of Indiana University South Bend from 1991 until his retirement from teaching in 2017. He made his home in the United States since 1983.
As a performer, he was a powerhouse especially in the Russian repertoire. Also on the Vancouver program was Stravinsky’s Concerto for Piano and Wind Instruments. In a comparison of 70 recordings, his performance of Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3 was selected by International Piano Quarterly as “historically the best on record.”
Toradze offered the following advice to aspiring pianists in an interview with classical radio host Bruce Duffie: “Don’t forget to pray to God before each performance, and don’t forget to give your soul enough air. Believe in the right purpose of art and believe in being human.”
Perhaps it’s not “The Great American Symphony,” self-consciously aspirational, oratorical, or grandiose in the manner the third symphonies of Roy Harris, William Schuman, or Aaron Copland; but it does go straight to the heart, which is something none of the composers of that great American triumvirate do, at least in those particular works.
William Grant Still’s “Afro-American Symphony” is poetic, it’s genuinely reflective, it’s beautiful, and it brims with great tunes. It’s congenial, and in the end quite moving. It remains one of my favorite symphonies by an American composer.
When I want “big statements” made on a colossal scale, I will turn to those Lincoln Center composers, who would have us believe they are eating out of lunch pails in their spare time, and riveting skyscrapers, or busting sod in denim overalls. But let’s face it, they are mostly hobnobbing in suits, jostling to get their music conducted by “Lenny.”
Still is a composer in the mold, if not the manner, of Charles Ives. He’s a perpetual outsider, and always true to himself. His music grows directly out of his autobiographical experience, the blues, ballads, and spirituals of his childhood, in Woodville, Mississippi and Little Rock, Arkansas, and later his experience playing in pit bands during the Harlem Renaissance.
He also studied at the Oberlin Conservatory and privately with George Whitefield Chadwick and Edgard Varèse, of all people. There is no Varèse to be found in Still’s music.
He composes with the directness of a Virgil Thomson, but with none of Thomson’s affected naiveté. He shares with George Gershwin a refreshing lack of pretention – or at any rate his music does (he did, after all, subtitle one of his symphonies “Autochthonous”) – and a wonderful facility with melody.
Of course, any discussion of Still must come with a litany of “firsts.” His “Afro-American Symphony” was the first written by a black composer to be performed by a major orchestra (the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall). He was the first to be given the opportunity to conduct a major orchestra (the Los Angeles Philharmonic, at the Hollywood Bowl). His opera, “Troubled Island,” became the first to be produced by a major company (the New York City Opera). Another of his operas, “A Bayou Legend,” was the first to be performed on national television (as late as 1981). His works were performed internationally by the Berlin Philharmonic, the London Symphony Orchestra, the BBC Symphony, and the Tokyo Philharmonic.
For years, all I could locate was the “Afro-American Symphony,” and that only in two out-of-print, albeit very fine recordings (with Karl Krueger and the Royal Philharmonic, and Paul Freeman and the London Symphony Orchestra). It wasn’t until the digital era that the other four symphonies gradually – very gradually – became available. Thankfully, all of them have now been recorded and are available for purchase.
Furthermore, in all these years, I’ve only ever come across a single modern recording of any of his nine operas, “Highway One U.S.A,” with Philip Brunelle and Vocal Essence. This especially is a shame, since, as an opera lover himself, Still so wanted to add something significant to the repertoire.
For all the love Florence Price has had lavished on her as a woman of color (the Philadelphia Orchestra was recently awarded a Grammy for its excellent recording of two of her symphonies, for the Deutsche Grammophon label), it would be great if a world-class, American ensemble would take up the cause of Still.
Let’s face it, most American orchestras are pretty terrible about recording even the white guys that were once so revered during that era. Unless you’re Copland, Gershwin, or Barber, you’re pretty much out of luck with the majors. Must so many of our American composers be documented by less-costly orchestras abroad?
Fashion would seem to favor a Still revival. At least play his music in concert, Americans!
Happy birthday, WGS (1895-1978).
“Afro-American Symphony”
“Danzas de Panama”
A little more severe, “Dismal Swamp” for piano and orchestra
“Lenox Avenue,” conducted by Still
“Troubled Island,” still awaiting a modern recording
I knew yesterday held some musical significance, but then, even after consulting all my usual sources, I just couldn’t figure out what it was. Wouldn’t you know it, yesterday was the announcement of this year’s Pulitzer Prizes, something I had made a mental note of weeks ago. But apparently my mental note pad isn’t what it used to be.
This year’s Pulitzer Prize for Music was awarded to Raven Chacon for “Voiceless Mass.” As the title suggests, there are no voices in the work, which is scored organ and large ensemble (percussion, wind instruments, strings, and electronics). The work was given its premiere last November at Milwaukee’s Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist.
“This was a response to buildings like the church (and other institutions like it), that suppresses voices,” Chacon said in an interview with the Albuquerque Journal.
Chacon, 44, is a composer, performer, and installation artist from the Navajo Nation. He is the first Native American to be honored in the Pulitzer’s music category.
I can’t say that I’ll be whistling a lot of this, but there’s something to be said for ritual, spatial music, and installation art. Even so, I think I’m intrigued by “Tremble Staves” for all the wrong reasons. It puts me in mind of the Falcon and the Silver Surfer, from back in my Marvel Comics days.
A couple of years ago, I was generating Classic Ross Amico crosswords to post on Sundays. This one celebrates film composers Max Steiner and Dimitri Tiomkin, both of whom happened to be born on this date (Steiner in 1888 and Tiomkin in 1894).
The clues not only allude to specifics of their respective lives and careers, but they should also be of ample interest, I hope, to classic movie buffs. So even if you’re convinced you don’t know a lot about music, do check it out if, like me, you happen to watch a lot of movies from the ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s.
To fill out the puzzle, follow the link and select “solve online” at the bottom of the page. You’ll then be able to type directly into the squares. Once you feel you’ve exhausted the puzzle, you’ll find the solutions by clicking on “Answer Key PDF.”
There’s enough distance now that even I was able to fill it out and enjoy the challenge. I probably should have indicated in the clues that some of the answers require full names or, in the case of titles, multiple words.
Open up a box of Sno-Caps, and try not to get buttered popcorn all over your keyboard. Happy birthday, Max Steiner and Dimitri Tiomkin!
