On Leoš Janáček’s birthday, I recollect that I was on my way to see “The Makropulos Case” at the Metropolitan Opera a number of years ago, when my car broke down on the New Jersey Turnpike. I never did get to see it. Janáček’s 1925 opera – based on a play by Karel Čapek, author of the novel “War with the Newts” and the play “R.U.R.” (credited with introducing the word “robot”) – is about a 337-year-old woman who, thanks to an elixir, is preserved in the flower of youth, but comes to regard life with clinical detachment.
This is not Janáček’s only science fiction opera. Less-known, perhaps, is Janáček’s “The Excursions of Mr. Brouček to the Moon and to the 15th Century” – actually more of a fantasy, I suppose.
These got me pondering, and not for the first time, the “lowly” genre of science fiction and its unlikely influence on the high art of classical music. The topic is still fresh in my mind from having recently revisited Karl-Birger Blomdahl’s 1959 opera “Aniara,” in which a journey to Mars goes horribly wrong, thanks to, of all things, a good old-fashioned Swedish celebration of Midsummer.
During the pandemic in 2020, one of the things that kept me mentally engaged while doing menial chores around the house was compiling clues for a weekly crossword puzzle that I would post on Sunday mornings. The topic for the first week of October was “Hi-Fi Sci-Fi.”
I know tomorrow is the 4th of July and the weekend is bound to be a busy one for many, but if you’re interested in bookmarking it for later, you’ll find a link to the puzzle below. Both Janáček operas (and “Aniara”) are among the clues.
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.”
IMAGES (clockwise from upper left): Janáček; art deco stage design for “The Makropulos Case;” art nouveau cover art for libretto to “The Excursions of Mr. Brouček;” Čapek’s “Makropulos” novel
On the anniversary of the birth of Christoph Willibald Gluck (on this date in 1714), here’s Interesting filmed production of his most famous opera, “Orfeo ed Euridice,” complete with Orpheus’ wake-up routine – bereft musicians should not leave home without laurels and lyre – periwigged orchestra and “thanks, Mean Joe” epilogue honoring the emotional truth of the mythological tale while undercutting the composer’s happy ending. American countertenor Bejun Mehta sings Orfeo, Austrian soprano Eva Liebau sings Euridice, and Václav Luks conducts Collegium 1704.
The opera was filmed at the Baroque Theater of Český Krumlov Castle (every castle should have one) in the South Bohemian Region of the Czech Republic. The theater dates from 1767, within five years of the opera’s first performance (at the Burgtheater in Vienna in 1762). Gluck revised the work twelve years later, the better to suit the taste of Parisian audiences.
The opera’s naturalistic expression and dramatic simplicity, with its rejection of the formulaic – ornamental arias interleaved with recitative and scene changes – proved highly influential. Here, the arias subvert formula and avoid grandstanding, serving a coherent drama, with an emphasis on sustained mood (melancholy) and poetry, as opposed to by-the-numbers fiery passions and vocal acrobatics.
Gluck’s reforms, which would have been perceived as radical, pissing off showboating singers of the day and confusing, perhaps even frustrating, audience expectations, influenced sympathetic composers from Mozart to Weber, from Berlioz to Wagner.
Happy Canada Day! Let us honor the classical music heritage of the Canadian national anthem.
The music was composed by Calixa Lavallée, a French-Canadian, who had been a Union band musician with the Fourth Rhode Island Regiment during the American Civil War. Lavallée was commissioned to write the piece in 1880 by Théodore Robitaille, then Lieutenant Governor of Québec, in anticipation of that year’s Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day celebrations.
The words (in French) were added later, by Sir Adolphe-Basile Routhier. The first English translation was published in 1906. Two years later, an official translation, by Robert Stanley Weir, appeared. “O Canada” served as the country’s de facto national anthem beginning in 1939. It was officially adopted only in 1980!
In 2020, musicologist Ross Duffin put forth that “O Canada” was not an original composition at all, but rather a patchwork of preexisting melodies from the classical repertoire. To which I say, what took him so long? Anyone with a passing knowledge of “The Magic Flute” knows that. Also, as far back as 2008, a listener wrote to inquire of me what was the name of the Franz Liszt composition I played that sounded so much like “O Canada?” All is revealed here, with musical examples below:
One of its sources, from Mozart’s “The Magic Flute”:
Variations on the theme from a Piano Sonata in F major by Anton Reicha:
Listen for a familiar, repeated interlude in Liszt’s symphonic poem “Festklänge” (“Festive Sounds”), in this performance from across Lake Michigan:
“Wach’ auf” from Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger”
Finally, Matthias Keller’s “The American Hymn.” I confess, this one is new to me. For its discovery, I must tip my hat to Professor Duffin.
It’s not inconceivable that Lavallée would have fulfilled his commission with a pastiche, a common enough practice among band musicians of the day. This is not to take anything away from the Canadian national anthem. As you may know, the melody for “The Star-Spangled Banner” was appropriated from a British drinking song!
PHOTO: Rabbit rabbit, Canada style*
(* Original postage stamp does not include flag. Also, they’re Arctic hares.)
Harler served as music director of Mendelssohn Club of Philadelphia from 1988 to 2015. (The group, founded in 1874, was rebranded Mendelssohn Chorus of Philadelphia in 2020.) Harler was named the organization’s artistic director in 2009. For 30 years, he also served as Chairman of Choral Music at Temple University’s Esther Boyer College of Music.
He commissioned and gave first performances of more than 50 new works, including Charles Fussell’s “High Bridge,” Jennifer Higdon’s “On the Death of the Righteous,” David Lang’s “battle hymns,” Pauline Oliveros’ “Urban Echo: Circle Told,” Roberto Sierra’s “Lux æterna,” and Julia Wolfe’s “Anthracite Fields” (recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2015). He recorded Robert Moran’s “Requiem: Chant du Cygne” for London/Argo Records and gave the first performance of the composer’s 9/11 memorial “Trinity Requiem” in an expanded version for full chorus (the work was originally conceived for children).
Harler was also founder and director of the Contemporary Vocal Ensemble of Indiana. He prepared choruses for a number of the world’s foremost conductors, including Riccardo Muti, Klaus Tennstedt, Charles Dutoit, Zubin Mehta, Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, Lorin Maazel, David Robertson, and Wolfgang Sawallisch.
I met him several times over the years and interviewed him on the air at least once, in connection with a broadcast of “Trinity Requiem.” Also on the program, which took place at Philadelphia’s Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul on Logan Square, was Bruckner’s Mass No. 2 in E minor, and a new Moran commission, “Angele Dei.”
I received the news of his passing in my inbox on Friday, but I am only just getting around to sharing it on account of a busy weekend. Bad news does occasionally travel slow in the world of Classic Ross Amico.
Harler was 85-years-old. R.I.P.
The press release follows.
Dear Mendelssohn Chorus Family,
It is with profound sadness that we share the news that our beloved Conductor Laureate and former Artistic Director, Alan Harler, passed away peacefully in his sleep early yesterday morning. Our thoughts and prayers are with his partner of 38 years, Chuck Kalick, his extended family, and all who loved him during this difficult time.
A Transformative Leader
Alan’s artistic leadership was transformative not only to our 151-year-old organization, which he led from 1988-2015, but to the entire field of choral music. When he joined Mendelssohn Chorus as our twelfth Music Director in 1988, our organization was experiencing a difficult transitional period both artistically and fiscally. Under Alan’s visionary leadership, we not only regained our footing but evolved into a thriving, relevant, and innovative force in Philadelphia’s cultural fabric.
His vision was so compelling that after operating as a volunteer-run organization for 135 years, we were able to create our first professional board and grow our systems to support our first full-time Executive Director in 2009, with Alan serving as Artistic Director.
A Pioneer in New Music
Alan was a pioneer ahead of his time, committed to new music throughout his entire career. His approach wasn’t simply novelty for novelty’s sake—in his own words: “Inviting or even gently pulling people out of their 21st century comfort zones is the first step in preparing them to experience music and the human voice at the deepest level.”
During his tenure with us, he commissioned and premiered 58 new compositions, including Julia Wolfe’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Anthracite Fields, David Lang’s battle hymns, Jennifer Higdon’s On the Death of the Righteous, and Pauline Oliveros’s Urban Echo: Circle Told. He pushed audiences and singers alike through cross-genre performances through an innovative partnership with the Leah Stein Dance Company. These performances integrated artistic elements such as dance, ensemble choreography, projections, and even audience movement into our performances to create a fully immersive experience.
Those groundbreaking works established Mendelssohn Chorus as a vital force for living composers and earned us the 2013 Chorus America/ASCAP Award for Adventurous Programming.
Scholar and Advocate
While Alan championed new works, he was equally a scholar and advocate of the choral greats of the past. His dedication to understanding musical traditions led him to travel to Oxford, England, to examine and study Mendelssohn’s original score of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion. This research culminated in our presenting the North American premiere of Mendelssohn’s edition of Bach’s masterwork in 2015—a fitting capstone to Alan’s extraordinary tenure.
Educator and Mentor
Alan’s influence extended far beyond our chorus through his distinguished 30-year career at Temple University, where he served as Laura Carnell Professor of Choral Music and Director of Choral Activities. As one colleague noted, Alan was “a remarkable diagnostician with generosity and razor sharp analysis.” Even after retirement, he continued inspiring rising conductors through our Conducting Apprenticeship Program, mentoring dozens of conductors who now carry his legacy around the world.
A Humble Virtuoso
In a world where many artists are known for forceful egos, Alan possessed remarkable humility. As one reviewer wrote, “Alan Harler is a musician serving music by serving other musicians and the music-loving public.” Composer Roberto Sierra captured Alan’s essence perfectly: “In my life as a composer I have not met many artists like Alan, those who are at the zenith of their art, but that also are extraordinary human beings. It is precisely this combination that gives force to his artistic expression.”
A Living Legacy
The Alan Harler New Ventures Fund, established by our chorus family to honor his vision, ensures that his commitment to fostering contemporary, original, and groundbreaking works will continue in perpetuity. His belief in taking artistic risks and his passion for pushing boundaries will forever be part of our DNA.
Alan truly personified the mission “to build a dynamic and inclusive choral community so that more people are transformed by the beauty and power of choral singing.” There must be thousands of people who have been touched by Alan’s music and his humanity together.
We will share information about memorial arrangements as they become available. In the meantime, we invite you to watch the loving tribute below, created to honor Alan upon his retirement in 2015.
His legacy lives on in every commission we premiere, every aspiring conductor we mentor, and every voice that joins our chorus family.
With deepest gratitude for Alan’s immeasurable contributions,
Dominick DiOrio, Artistic Director
Flo Gardner, Executive Director
Julie Cohen, Board Chair
Mendelssohn Chorus tribute video
Harler and Mendelssohn Club perform Robert Moran’s “Requiem: Chant du Cygne”
Bernard Herrmann may be best-recognized as the greatest film composer the United States ever produced, but he was also a passionate Anglophile. I’ve written a lot about Herrmann over the years, from many different perspectives, but in light of my recent visit to the Percy Grainger Home & Studio in White Plains, NY (where Grainger lived for 40 years), I thought I’d share a little bit about the relationship of these two artists today, for the anniversary of Herrmann’s birth.
Herrmann studied composition with Grainger at New York University in the early 1930s. Even in untested youth, his extensive knowledge and passion for English music (and music in general) endeared him to his mentor – they also shared an ear for unusual orchestration – and a genuine affection sprang up between them. In particular, they both adored Frederick Delius, whom Grainger got to know fairly well in the early years of the 20th century. (Grainger, born in Melbourne, lived in England from 1901-14.)
For Herrmann, Grainger was like a magic fountain of information about many of the living composers he so admired. Herrmann himself would later get to know some of them himself during guest conducting engagements with the BBC Symphony, the Halle Orchestra, and the London Symphony Orchestra.
Here’s a little more about Grainger and Herrmann, largely drawn from Steven C. Smith’s Herrmann biography, “A Heart at Fire’s Center.” I’ve read Smith’s book, of course, but for convenience’s sake, I am cutting and pasting this excerpt from an article about Herrmann’s Anglophilia compiled by Ian Lace for the MusicWeb International website. To access the complete article, which would certainly be worth your while, if it’s a topic that interests you, look for the link below.
From Lace’s piece:
Also in 1932 Herrmann attended a bi-weekly course in advanced composition and orchestration led by the brilliant but wildly unorthodox Percy Grainger.
‘Percy Grainger was Australia’s most innovative advocate of music past and present, from his childhood days as “the flaxen-haired phenomenon” of Melbourne to his years of international fame as folk song collector, composer, and recitalist. At the heart of Grainger’s unstable, erratic character was a fixation on truth, contempt for tradition and a passion for the outrageous.
‘Since becoming head of NYU’s music department in 1931, Grainger had offered a syllabus of musical eccentricity and frequent brilliance that left many students puzzled and unimpressed. The class of 1932, however, had one exception. In Grainger, Herrmann saw qualities he himself was cultivating: individualism and dedication to one’s craft and beliefs, however unpopular and unfashionable.
‘The relationship between the fifty-year-old teacher and the twenty-one year old student was one of mutual respect. “Grainger did not place orchestration examples before [his students],” Grainger biographer John Bird wrote, “Instead, he allowed them to choose their pieces and gave them advice when and where needed. Herrmann for instance, decided to orchestrate MacDowell’s Celtic Sonata and felt the need to employ the sonorities of a tenor tuba. The Australian knew little of this unusual piece of plumbing, so together, they familiarised themselves with the instrument and found suitable moments to include it.”
‘Herrmann and Grainger also discovered a shared love of Whitman and the music of Delius. One of Herrmann’s favourite NYU memories peripherally involved the latter: one morning the gaunt, sprightly Grainger leapt onto the lecture stage and announced, “The three greatest composers who ever lived are Bach, Delius and Duke Ellington. Unfortunately Bach is dead, Delius is very ill – but we are happy to have with us today the Duke!” Ellington and his band then mounted the stage and played for the next two hours.
‘If other Grainger lectures were less dramatic, they were no less influential to Herrmann: ancient monophony, folk music, atonality, polyphony, the indigenous rhythms of Africa, Asia, and the South Seas – each was examined by Grainger with alternating lucidity and jumbled mysticism. When the scholastic year ended in mid-August 1933, Grainger considered his work a failure, as few students had been as responsive as Herrmann; but it cemented a friendship between him and his intense young pupil that affected Herrmann for the rest of his life.’
PHOTOS (clockwise from upper left): Herrmann conducting at CBS radio in the 1930s; Grainger conducting the National High School Orchestra at Interlochen in 1937; Grainger with Duke Ellington at New York University in 1932; Herrmann and Orson Welles at CBS
