I’ve got some followers that I know are big readers. Myself, I am reading something all the time, but unfortunately I am rather slow under the best of circumstances, and since I read mostly at bedtime these days (thank you, internet), I often find myself pushing back against drooping eyelids. I used to read in the morning also, in the days before I had a laptop. Previously, what happened at work – where I kept my desktop – stayed at work. When you have two reading sessions built into your day, even short ones, at breakfast and bed, you do cover a lot of ground, more than you would think.
Anyway, last week I finally finished Robert Fagles’ translation of “The Odyssey,” in advance of Christopher Nolan’s movie, which I’m pretty sure I’m going to have issues with (and not because I’m a “culture warrior”). And since then, I knocked out Bernard Knox’s 60-page intro, which I found informative and essential, in order to more fully grasp the history and significance of this cornerstone of Western literature, which is so much more than simply an adventure story.
The edition – which I discover is inscribed by Fagles (who taught at Princeton University) – has been part of my library since I skimmed it off the inventory of one of my bookstores, but somehow I never got around to reading it until now. It’s been part of the Princeton High School curriculum. In my hometown, for some reason, we read “The Iliad.” Granted it was an AP course, but with all the cataloguing in which Homer indulges, so that we know all about the participating forces, the leaders’ lineages, their geographical origin and their weaponry, it was kind of a slog. It was a long time ago, but I don’t even know that I can blame the translation (by W.H.D. Rouse).
Fagles’ “Odyssey” is a much more enjoyable read. In fact, surprisingly so. I expected it to be heavy lifting, akin to the boulder Polyphemus uses to seal his cave. But it turned out to be far from it. (Incidentally, I see the audio book is read by Sir Ian McKellen!)
However, I am sure it is not the last word in “Odyssey” translations, acclaimed though it be. In fact, I can understand why there are so many “Odyssey” fanatics on YouTube, who seem to have a working familiarity of the finer points of all the various translations. Since I cannot read Greek myself, I would definitely be interested in checking out some of the other versions. I am especially curious to take a look at the much-lauded, and I’m sure more elevated, translation by Alexander Pope. Somewhat in common with its hero’s travails, one’s encounter with “The Odyssey” could expand into an epic journey of many years.
You have to admit, the story has had legs. Even if you’ve never read a word of it, you probably already know a lot of it. It’s been a crowd-pleaser for 2,800 years! Ralph Fiennes played a brooding (and surprisingly jacked) Odysseus only last year, in “The Return,” and I recently learned that Jerry Bruckheimer, of all people, is overseeing an animated musical (!) on the story, based on a recent internet series (?), for theatrical release. I remember watching a miniseries with Armand Assante, back in the ‘90s, but for me, the benchmark will probably always be Kirk Douglas in “Ulysses.” When men were men, and cyclopes were cyclopes!
By coincidence, I’ve got a ticket to see “Die ägyptische Helena” (“The Egyptian Helen”) at Bard College later this month. Richard Strauss’ rarely-heard opera about Helen of Troy sets a libretto by Hugo von Hofmannsthal – whose source material is Euripides’ play “Helen,” as opposed to Homer’s “Iliad,” but hey…
Only yesterday, I bought a loaf of bread from a local bakery and the woman on the counter’s name was Penelope! I’m taking it as a sign.
Nolan’s movie opens tomorrow. Watch this space, because this weekend all three of my radio shows – “Picture Perfect,” “Sweetness and Light,” and “The Lost Chord” – will be on Classical mythological themes.
It seems Homer is everywhere these days. But really, has he ever gone away?
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IMAGE: Matt Damon tempted by the Sirens in Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey”
(Actually “Ulysses and the Sirens,” 1909, by Herbert James Draper)
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Epic Summer
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Pantheon of Film Composers, Circa 1997
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I was reminded of this photo the other day when it resurfaced on Facebook (in humorously doctored form). Here’s the original, reproduced from a two-page spread in a special “Hollywood 1997” issue of Vanity Fair that appeared on newsstands in April of that year. Be forewarned: if you care about film music of the era, and the decades preceding, your head might explode.
Front row, L to R: Danny Elfman, John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith, James Newton Howard
Middle row: Hans Zimmer, Elmer Bernstein, John Barry, Quincy Jones, Maurice Jarre, Michael Kamen
Back row, seated: James Horner, Lalo Schifrin, Mark Isham, Bill Conti, Elliot Goldenthal, Marvin Hamlisch (who looks a bit like Bernard Herrmann, chatting with Jarre in front of him)
Standing: Alan Menken, Marc Shaiman
The photo, by Art Streiber, is actually doctored, with the subjects being captured in two sessions, on January 7 & 20, 1997.
Some notable omissions (and by no means an exclusive list): the Newmans, Alan Silvestri, Patrick Doyle, Rachel Portman, and of course Ennio Morricone. Still, a stunning assemblage, from a time when Goldsmith, Elmer Bernstein, John Barry, and Maurice Jarre still walked among us. All gone now. We’ve also lost Quincy Jones, Marvin Hamlisch, Lalo Schifrin, Michael Kamen, and James Horner.
Zimmer (what could he possibly have to talk about with Elmer Bernstein?) has done more than anyone to drive the classic Hollywood sound to extinction. Sadly, his influential brand of electronically generated and/or manipulated drones and ostinati have come to dominate cinema in the digital era, as films are tweaked into bland homogeneity virtually up to the day of release. Most of it is easily forgettable, as a chainsaw or a leaf blower is forgettable. The annoyance evaporates as soon as it stops. Recently, I was impressed by his work on “Dune,” but as is so often the case, so much of it is more like sound design than music.
I am thankful to have lived through such a great era, but I am continually reminded of all that’s changed for the worse. In 1997, the movies were already on shaky ground. My heart aches every day, not least of all for their faded glory.
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Dimitri Tiomkin and Ballet on the Beach
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It’s summer, and for some, life’s a beach. Here’s a fun photo of future film legend Dimitri Tiomkin, the man who kicked off the craze for title songs in the seemingly incongruous genre of the movie western, when his score and song for “High Noon” earned wide acclaim, double Oscars, and enormous financial dividends. In fact, “Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin’” has been credited by some with having saved the picture from box office failure and cementing its status as an American classic.
From then on, Tiomkin was always sure to include a title song in his westerns – “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” “The Alamo,” “The War Wagon,” “Rio Bravo,” and, for television, “Rawhide,” among them – and for films in other genres, as well (“Friendly Persuasion,” “The Guns of Navarone,” “Wild Is the Wind”).
Interestingly, Tiomkin was born in Ukraine and studied at the St. Petersburg Conservatory with Alexander Glazunov. When asked the secret to his exceptional success writing music for westerns, Tiomkin replied with a shrug, “A steppe is a steppe is a steppe.”
Early on, it had been his mother’s dream that he become a concert pianist. To this end, he studied with Felix Blumenfeld, teacher of Horowitz, and Isabelle Vengerova. Also with Ferruccio Busoni and Egon Petri. He made his debut with the Berlin Philharmonic in Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 2. At Carnegie Hall, he played Ravel, Scriabin, Poulenc, and Alexandre Tansman. He also gave the European premiere, in Paris, of Gershwin’s Concerto in F, with the composer in attendance.
Predating his Hollywood years, Tiomkin accompanied and wrote music for a ballet company run by his wife, Austrian dancer and choreographer Albertina Rasch, with whom he had first teamed on the American vaudeville circuit. After the stock market crash of 1929, opportunities in New York dwindled, but Rasch was hired to supervise dance numbers in MGM musicals. It was during this time that the beach photo was taken.
Tiomkin made mostly undistinguished, often uncredited contributions to motion pictures in the 1930s. The best known of these was a misbegotten all-star adaptation of “Alice in Wonderland” in 1933. But it was with Frank Capra’s “Lost Horizon,” in 1937, that he was really able to show his stuff. The opulent score was conducted by the vastly more experienced Max Steiner. Recognition came just in time, as Tiomkin broke his arm, effectively ending his career as a concert pianist.
He needn’t have worried. He found success composing more than 100 film scores, earning 22 Academy Award nominations. He won four, and numerous Golden Globes. Enough of the title songs were covered by major artists and turned into popular hits that he made a very comfortable living.
You can learn more about Tiomkin and Rasch at Castle Rock Beach and the then-provocative photo (which, as we would say today, “went viral”) at the link.Some of his ballet music for Rasch was recorded in 2020 for the album “Paris Under the Stars,” released on the Intrada label.
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Homages to Grieg on “The Lost Chord”
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Edvard Grieg was a gentle, generous soul. But he was also something of a rebel-artist who established a personal and national identity outside the dominant Austro-German tradition. As Norway’s most important composer, he provided inspiration not only to Scandinavians, but to artists all over Europe and the United States.
His personality and achievements engendered much affection and loyalty. Tchaikovsky dedicated his “Hamlet Fantasy Overture” to him. Liszt performed his piano concerto. Antonin Dvořák was a friend, and Frederick Delius worshiped him.
This week on “The Lost Chord,” we’ll hear works dedicated to Grieg by some of his composer friends and admirers.
The American composer Edward MacDowell never actually met Grieg, though they shared a certain musical affinity. He contacted the Norwegian to ask permission to dedicate to him his Piano Sonata No. 3, which he subtitled the “Norse.” Grieg was full of compliments about the piece, and he enthusiastically accepted. The two men enjoyed an admiring, though unfortunately short-lived correspondence, since both were already nearing the end of their lives. MacDowell died in 1908, at the age of 47; he was already in the throes of the illness that would claim him at the time Grieg passed in 1907, at the age of 64.
Though Julius Röntgen was born in Leipzig, by his early 20s he had settled in Amsterdam. He went on to become one of the most important figures in Dutch music, establishing the city’s music conservatory and participating in the founding of the Concertgebouw. Röntgen was successful in becoming a good friend not only of Johannes Brahms (no mean feat), but also Grieg, whom he visited in Norway 14 times. The result was a number of works he composed on Norwegian themes. Röntgen dedicated his suite “Aus Jotunheim,” inspired by a hike he had taken with the composer through the Norwegian mountains, to Grieg and his wife, Nina, on the occasion of their 25th wedding anniversary.
Finally, Grieg encountered the tireless Australian pianist Percy Grainger only toward the end of his life, but he was convinced he had found his ideal interpreter. He invited Grainger to perform his Piano Concerto in A Minor under his own direction. Sadly, Grieg died before it could come to pass. Nevertheless, Grainger continued to champion Grieg’s music for the rest of his life. Also, he dedicated a number of folk-inspired works to the memory of the Norwegian master. We’ll hear two historical recordings: one of Grainger playing music of Grieg and then another of the pianist playing one of his own such works.
I hope you’ll join me in celebrating Edvard Grieg with music written for him by composer friends and admirers. That’s “Griegarious,” 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!
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PHOTO: (left to right) Grieg, Grainger, Nina Grieg & Röntgen at Grieg’s home, Troldhaugen, in 1907
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Light Music Soloists Step into the Spotlight on “Sweetness and Light”
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This week on “Sweetness and Light,” musicians step out to strut their stuff in a collection of lighter works for solo instrument and orchestra.
Some of the pieces will be well-known, some perhaps not. We’ll enjoy a trumpet overture derived from a film score by Franz Waxman, a scherzo by the swashbuckling pianist and composer Henry Charles Litolff, a polka for bassoon and orchestra evocative of a grumpy old bear by Julius Fučík, and more.
A highlight will surely be a cello concerto by Arthur Sullivan, later of Gilbert & Sullivan fame, that was destroyed by fire but reconstructed decades later, largely from memory, by Sir Charles Mackerras.
One is the loneliest number, as the old song goes. So put your hands together for soloists stepping into the “light music” spotlight, 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/
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