Category: Daily Dispatch

  • Princeton NJ Orchestras Explore Hollywood Sound

    Princeton NJ Orchestras Explore Hollywood Sound

    The curtain rods come in for a fair amount of abuse as I write about Erich Wolfgang Korngold and John Williams for this week’s edition of Princeton U.S. 1.

    The Capital Philharmonic Orchestra of New Jersey will present an all-Williams concert at Trenton’s Patriots Theater at the War Memorial, this Saturday at 7:30 p.m. Saxophonist Jonathan Wintringham will be the soloist in “Escapades,” a concerto on themes from the Steven Spielberg film “Catch Me If You Can.” CPNJ music director Daniel Spalding will conduct.

    Then the Princeton Symphony Orchestra will present Korngold’s Violin Concerto on a program that will also include Gabriela Lena Frank’s “Elegía Andina” (“Andean Elegy”) and Felix Mendelssohn “Scottish Symphony,” at Princeton University’s Richardson Auditorium on May 7 & 8. Stefan Jackiw will be the soloist in a work that lifts its thematic material from classic film scores of the 1930s and ‘40s. PSO music director Rossen Milanov will conduct.

    Catch me if you can, as I outline a film music continuum, and along the way reveal the source of my lifelong passions for swashbuckling swordfights and symphony orchestras, in this week’s U.S. 1 newspaper, out today.

    https://www.communitynews.org/princetoninfo/artsandentertainment/regional-orchestras-go-for-hollywood-sound/article_1058f9a6-c01b-11ec-9a2d-5f75837c82c9.html


    Princeton Symphony Orchestra
    New Jersey Capital Philharmonic Orchestra
    Patriots Theater at the War Memorial
    Stefan Jackiw
    Jonathan Wintringham
    Community News
    U.S. 1 Newspaper – PrincetonInfo

  • John Williams Live in Philadelphia

    John Williams Live in Philadelphia

    Yesterday, I made a last-minute decision to catch John Williams in Philadelphia. Having seen him three times before (four, actually, as once he came out to acknowledge an ovation, following a performance of one of his concertos, the night after he conducted a program of his own music), I had resigned myself to sitting this one out. When the concert was announced, I went to the Philadelphia Orchestra website, and instead of being able to buy tickets, there were instructions to email for information. Forget that. But when I went back yesterday, after many months, there were a handful of seats posted, so I got out my credit card and jumped through the usual hoops to reserve one.

    I have been reluctant to attend concerts since Covid-19, and with Williams, I knew the hall would be packed, but I lucked into a box seat with three other people, so we were elevated slightly, above the main floor, and the chairs were positioned in such a way that there was little chance of us breathing on one another. Everyone was masked, of course, and proof of vaccination was required. My seat was the equivalent of twelve rows from the stage, maybe 35 or 40 feet from the podium, with a great sightline.

    The emotional high point of the evening came at the very beginning, when Williams emerged to a rafter-rattling standing ovation. At 90 years-old, he is a marvel. If not for his evident care when walking back and forth to the podium (I did see him fall once in Baltimore a number of years ago), I’d say he hasn’t changed a bit in the last 20 years. He did not conduct from a chair, as many superannuated maestros do, but led the entire two-hours-plus standing. He did lean on concertmaster David Kim’s shoulder a few times when getting on and off the podium.

    Anne-Sophie Mutter joined him as soloist in his brand new Violin Concerto No. 2 (given its premiere at Tanglewood in July), which they have been touring, with another performance scheduled for Carnegie Hall tomorrow night. This is probably the third time I’ve heard the piece – having seen the debut on PBS and listened to a bootleg on YouTube – and I hear more in it every time. Like most of Williams’ concertos, it has little in common with his film work, beyond a shared expertise in the handling of the instrumental colors. Everyone remembers the big moments in his film scores, but there’s real magic in the connective material. When required, Williams does delicacy as well as any frontal assault. Although I imagine Mutter knows the concerto pretty well by now (it was written for her), she played it from the score.

    Audiences at these kinds of events are not necessarily classical music people – the guy next to me commented that he had never attended the Philadelphia Orchestra before – but everyone listened attentively, or at any rate patiently, knowing the programming on the second half of the concert was calculated to please. I do hope, after all these performances of the work, that one of the major labels (Deutsche Grammophon?) will allow Mutter and Williams to record it. Record companies don’t exactly stumble over themselves to finance recordings of Williams’ concert music.

    The first half of the concert opened with a brief occasional piece, “Sound the Bells,” written to celebrate the royal wedding of Crown Prince (now Emperor) Naruhito and Masko Owada of Japan. Following the concerto, Mutter played an encore, “Across the Stars,” in an arrangement for violin and orchestra, from “Attack of the Clones.” Addressing the audience, Williams played coy, stating it was from one of the nine “Star Wars” scores, but he didn’t remember which one; he hadn’t had a chance to look it up. I find that doubtful, since he made the same quip at the Tanglewood concert, when it was also played as an encore to the concerto.

    This was not the last we would hear from Mutter. Following intermission, there were selections from “Hook” and “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” Then Mutter returned to play some new arrangements, also written for her, of selections from “Harry Potter,” “Cinderella Liberty,” and “The Adventures of Tintin.” These were played very well, of course – Mutter is one the world’s great violinists – but, while I don’t begrudge other’s enjoyment of this sort of “easy listening” approach to film music, personally I always find it to be a little kitschy.

    Williams did give a nice shout-out to André Previn, whom he described as a lifelong friend. The two met in Hollywood, when Previn was a prolific, and Academy Award-decorated, film composer. Mutter was married to Previn from 2002 to 2006. Williams told how he asked Previn whether or not he thought Mutter, who is used to playing Mozart, Beethoven, and Tchaikovsky, would be able to grasp the jazzy idiom of “Cinderella Liberty.” Previn assured him, Williams said, that Anne-Sophie could play anything.

    Williams also observed that he and Previn were probably the only two who remembered seeing “Cinderella Liberty,” which was released 50 years ago. It was one of several remarks on Williams’ part to stir melancholy reflections of my own, that time is passing at an alarming rate, and that Williams, at 90, is a toehold on a vanishing world. He even made an aside about Errol Flynn, “for those of you who remember who he is.” There may have been those in the audience who didn’t.

    During intermission, the guy next to me had asked about Mutter. When I mentioned her marriage to Previn, I got the impression he had never heard of him. He certainly didn’t know “Bad Day at Black Rock,” “Elmer Gantry,” or “My Fair Lady.” He turned to me then, when Williams mentioned him, in acknowledgement. Time is passing very quickly indeed. When the orchestra launched into the Throne Room and End Title music from “Star Wars,” it seemed “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,” and not just for the reasons originally intended.

    Standing ovations punctuated the evening. The audience recalled Williams and Mutter again and again. I attended a Williams concert a few years ago, and the encores lengthened the program by nearly a third. Last night, we got “Schindler’s List” (with Mutter) and the flying theme from “E.T.” The audience was ruthless in its adoration. Williams was recalled multiple times, but after a lovely evening, the point had come when he should be allowed to go. He’s 90 years-old, people! At last, he put two hands together and held them to his cheek, as he always does, to signify that he was tired and it was time to get some sleep. And everyone laughed, as they always do.

    I was happy to see the musicians so evidently gratified to be playing the music, and many of them were obviously star-struck in Williams’ presence. You could see it on their faces, especially of those whose hands he was able to shake. The personnel are now mostly of an age when they would have been reared, as I was, on Williams’ music. I was 10 at the time “Star Wars” was released. There was a lot of love in the room.

    New to Williams’ repertoire was the fist-bump, of which he exchanged several with people in the front row of the audience. He also reacted to cries and whistles from the balconies. He’s an exceptionally gracious presence. I can’t believe for a moment that he doesn’t recognize how much his music has meant to so many, but he always conveys a modest, appreciative disposition. What a charmed career he’s had. There’s been plenty of hard work, to be sure, supported by an innate musicianship and a masterful command of technique. But the whole Lucas-Spielberg connection gave him an unprecedented opportunity to dream big and to reach the broadest possible audience. How many other composers, living or dead, have been so fortunate?

    I don’t have a smart phone (Verizon keeps threatening to cancel my flip), so the image on this post was kindly shared with me by the gentleman next to me, with whom I had conversed a couple of times during the evening. So thank you to him!

    By coincidence, I also wrote about Williams for my article in the current edition of the Princeton weekly newspaper U.S. 1, in connection with an all-Williams concert to be given by the Capital Philharmonic of New Jersey in Trenton in this Saturday. I’ll write a little more about that in a separate post later today.

  • Germaine Tailleferre Les Six’s Forgotten Star

    Germaine Tailleferre Les Six’s Forgotten Star

    Germaine Tailleferre was the only female member of Les Six, that loose collective of composers that rose to prominence in Paris in the late Nineteen-Teens and ‘20s, under the guidance of Jean Cocteau. Her famous colleagues included Francis Poulenc, Darius Milhaud, Arthur Honegger, and Georges Auric. Louis Durey, a hard-line communist who went on to set poems by Ho-Chi Minh and Mao Zedong, is the one nobody remembers. (I wonder why.)

    Tailleferre was strong-willed from the start. Her birth name was Taillefesse, but she changed it to spite her father, since the old man opposed her musical studies. However, she took piano lessons with her mother and was admitted into the Paris Conservatory. It was there that she met the rest of The Six and that the prizes began to pile up. She also earned the friendship and received the support of Maurice Ravel.

    In 1925, she married Ralph Barton, the American caricaturist, and moved to New York. Two years later, the couple returned to France, then divorced. Her career thrived in the 1920s and ‘30s. With the outbreak of World War II, however, she beat it back to the United States, leaving most of her scores at her home in Grasse, and passed the war years in Philadelphia. (Please, if anyone knows anything about her Philadelphia years, message me!)

    After the war, she again returned to France, where she resumed her career. As she got older, her pieces tended to be shorter, as she suffered from arthritis. She also wrote a lot for children and young pianists. She composed virtually right up until the time of her death in 1983, when she was 91 years-old. She wrote so much, in fact, that a lot of the music of her later years has never been published, and fresh discoveries from her output are being recorded all the time.

    Here’s an interesting write-up about Tailleferre and her relationship with Barton. The quote that headlines the piece is not by Tailleferre, but by Germaine Greer!

    https://interlude.hk/sex-fun-cars-cars-refuel-quicker-men-germaine-tailleferre-ralph-waldo-emerson-barton/

    Furthermore, I love that the video at the bottom of the page, of the composer’s “Six chansons françaises,” is age-restricted due to the fact that it’s illustrated with the painting of a nude. Mon Dieu!

    Happy birthday, Germaine Tailleferre!


    The Concertino for Harp and Orchestra (1927):

    The lovely and wistful “Arabesque” for clarinet and piano (1972):

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0E8tUzQezA See Less

    The Concerto for Piano and Orchestra (1924). The piece was given its U.S. premiere – in the presence of the composer – by Alfred Cortot and the Philadelphia Orchestra, conducted Leopold Stokowski.

    “Rêverie” (1964)

  • Radu Lupu Legendary Pianist Dies at 76

    Radu Lupu Legendary Pianist Dies at 76

    It was all I could do to whip together a post about the passing of Harrison Birtwistle last night; but we also lost another major musician yesterday – the reclusive Romanian pianist Radu Lupu.

    Lupu is still a frequent presence on classical radio playlists, despite the fact that he hasn’t made a commercial recording since the mid-‘90s. Most of those performances are from his years as a Decca recording artist. Lupu continued to appear in concert, though he shunned publicity, denying interview requests and, when possible, permission for his concerts to be broadcast.

    He retired in 2019, after a long period of ill health, during which he frequently wound up canceling his engagements. He was a widely-respected interpreter of the core repertoire, especially fine in music of Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, and Brahms, among others.

    Radu Lupu was 76 years-old.


    As soloist in Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 19

    Joined by Murray Perahia in a superb performance of Schubert’s Fantasia in F minor

    From a Carnegie Hall recital in 1994, Schumann’s Fantasy in C

    Brahms’ Ballade in G minor

    More Brahms: his final encore, from February 2019

  • Harrison Birtwistle: A Complicated Farewell

    Harrison Birtwistle: A Complicated Farewell

    Monday is just about the only day I’m not around a computer, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s also the time that Harrison Birtwistle, ever the contrarian, died.

    I know I’ve posted here before about my complicated relationship with this composer. Despite sharing his fascination with Gawain, Punch, the Minotaur, Anubis, Orpheus, King Kong, and any number of other subjects that form the bases for his operas and concert works, I find he’s someone whose music I have only ever moderately warmed up to.

    In common with Peter Maxwell Davies, his former colleague of the Manchester School of composition, Birtwistle emerged from a working-class Lancashire background to radically modernize British music. But unlike Max, whose palpable sense of mischief made even his most scandalous works somehow approachable, Birtwistle never cracked a smile, unless perhaps it was at the audience’s expense.

    I don’t really need music to be “easy,” necessarily, or even tonal. There are times when I can put on a Birtwistle record and totally go with it. But I don’t know that anything he has written has ever engendered much affection in me. This is not an objective assessment, of course, and perhaps you will react differently.

    Interestingly, Birtwistle had a local connection. He attended Princeton University on a Harkness Fellowship, beginning in 1965. There, he completed his opera “Punch and Judy,” which begins with Punch tossing his baby into the fire This commences a murder spree that includes the stabbing of Judy, his wife. All is presented in human form, making it that much more disturbing than when enacted by puppets. The experience proved to be so unpleasant that Benjamin Britten walked out on the premiere.

    Perhaps you will find something to latch on to in one of these pieces recommended by The Guardian.

    https://www.theguardian.com/music/tomserviceblog/2014/jul/15/harrison-birtwistle-80th-birthday-five-introductory-pieces?fbclid=IwAR0dnkOT9wr0jsM91ngZM-h_N90rpenZdWuBhJj30c4LEO8FFxY-aJ_JDvY

    If I had to recommend a place to start, it would be “Earth Dances” from 1986.

    There is something primordial in Birtwistle’s work, but it is not someplace I generally choose to live. At least his music has integrity, which I can’t always claim for some contemporary works of an easier-going disposition.

    See what you think.

    Also, “The Moth Requiem” is a little gentler than most.

    Birtwistle was 87 years-old. R.I.P.

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