This year marks the 150th anniversary of the birth of Rafael Sabatini (on April 29, 1875) and the 75th anniversary of his death (on February 13, 1950).
Though Sabatini’s popularity may have faded somewhat over the decades, in his day the Italian-English writer might have been regarded as the heir apparent to Alexandre Dumas. His bestselling novels are full of romance and derring-do. However, unlike Dumas, I’m not sure if any of his books have really endured in the consciousness of the wider public.
His memory is kept alive principally through film adaptations of his works. And why not? His incident-filled pages seem tailor-made for the silver screen. Film adaptations of “Scaramouche,” “The Sea Hawk” and “Captain Blood” were all made during the silent era. As recently as 2006, a long-lost John Gilbert classic, adapted from Sabatini’s “Bardelys the Magnificent,” was rediscovered in France. Several of these, of course, were remade, more or less, to even greater success during the era of talking pictures.
This week on “Picture Perfect,” we’ll hear Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s music for the Errol Flynn classics “Captain Blood” (1935) and “The Sea Hawk” (1940). The former provided Flynn with his breakout role; the latter actually has nothing at all to do with Sabatini’s original plot, despite the writer’s prominent onscreen credit.
We’ll also enjoy Alfred Newman’s rollicking main title music for the pirate opus “The Black Swan” (1942), which starred Tyrone Power, and one of Victor Young’s most rousing and melodically inventive scores, for “Scaramouche” (1952), which featured Stewart Granger in probably the best swashbuckler of the 1950s.
Polish up those seven-league boots and don your gaudiest plumage. We’ll set sail with scores from movies inspired by the novels of Rafael Sabatini on “Picture Perfect,” now in syndication on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon!
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
The Beethoven rumble strip in the United Arab Emirates has been getting some press recently.
You know what a rumble strip is, right? They’re those irregularities in the pavement installed to jolt you awake when you’re about to drift off the road, or to warn you to slow down when you’re entering a hairpin turn. I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone would figure out that different rhythms and pitches could be produced by varying the spacing of the strips. When driven over at a certain speed recognizable melodies emerge.
Fujairah has decided to emulate Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”
I don’t know how many of these “musical roads” there are in the world, but the number must currently be pushing 50. (The most recent tabulation I could find was 46 in 2022.)
The first known musical road was created in Denmark in 1995. Argentina, Belarus, China, Hungary, Indonesia, Iran, Russia, San Marino, South Korea, and Taiwan followed. Japan, the musical road champ, has at least 30. The U.S. has at least three. France and the Netherlands had some for a while, but they were paved over.
It’s true, musical roads might be considered a nuisance by some, especially those living nearby, who have to contend not only with the incessant repetition of “Ode to Joy,” for instance, but also increased volume of traffic due to curiosity seekers.
Often the melodies can be made out only when the strips are encountered at a correct, consistent speed. In at least one instance, in California, a strip was paved over after residents complained and then reconstructed elsewhere. Unfortunately, the construction workers confused the measurements, so what you get is a badly out of tune “William Tell Overture.”
One post beneath the video suggests that the tune would sound correct if you hit it at 100 m.p.h. I’m not condoning it; just saying.
Hi ho, Silver! Away!
FUN FACT, though hardly surprising: It was New Jersey that installed the earliest-known rumble strips, on the Garden State Parkway, in 1952.
ADDENDUM: Okay, so it looks like Little Alex and his droogs decided to go back and hit the “William Tell” strip at 100 m.p.h. Still pretty wonky, but worth it for the laugh.
I’ve been kicking around themes for this weekend’s “Sweetness and Light,” hoping to write and record the show today, and it occurs to me, it being a light music program with something of an escapist bent, I might indulge my nostalgia for the carefree and seemingly endless summers of my childhood. Last week, I put together a playlist about fountains, which turned out to be a lot more satisfying than I had anticipated. To conflate the two, here’s a YouTube video I discovered while researching and refreshing my memory as to the repertoire. It’s such a remarkable document, I think it’s worth sharing – although the piece played by this astonishingly talented young harpist (at the age of 9!) is misattributed to Marcel Grandjany. It’s actually “La Source” by Albert Zabel. I think you’ll agree it is five minutes well-spent!
Alisa Sadikova is now 22 years-old. Although the actual piece did not make it onto my playlist of fountain music – who knew the competition would be so fierce? – I was very pleased to make its acquaintance, especially in Sadikova’s mesmerizing and enriching performance.
Again, this week the musical selections will be curated with the purpose of recollecting those halcyon summers of youth and adventure. I didn’t play the harp, but I sure did suck the marrow out of life. “Sweetness and Light” airs on KWAX, Saturday mornings at 11:00 EDT/8:00 EDT. Stream it wherever you are at the link. https://kwax.uoregon.edu/
In less than a month, the sleeping giant of Czech music will awake!
The 35th annual Bard Music Festival, “Martinů and His World,” will to be held largely on the campus of Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, NY, August 8-17.
Why is Bohuslav Martinů not better known? Perhaps it’s because he wrote so damn much in so many difference styles. With a career that took him from Czechoslovakia to Paris to the United States and then back again to Europe, absorbing a multiplicity of stylistic influences along the way, Martinů is not the easiest guy to pin down.
Some of his works have a strong Czech national flavor, revealing a spiritual descent from the line of Dvořák and Smetana. Others are evidently modernist, full of churning flywheels and motor rhythms, characteristic of a mechanized age. Others still flirt with popular styles, especially jazz. He’s a unique mash-up of Bohemian, French, and American influences. His “modernism,” such as it is, is seldom at the expense of broadening passages of great lyrical beauty.
Over two weekends, the Bard Music Festival will do what it does best: immerse audiences in works from all periods of the composer’s creative life, setting them off against music of his role models, his contemporaries, and those in turn he inspired. The listening experience will be enhanced by panel discussions, pre-concert talks, and lobby chit-chat with fellow enthusiasts over coffee and sandwiches.
Conductor and Bard president Leon Botstein will oversee orchestral, orchestral/choral, and opera performances, at the helm of the American Symphony Orchestra and Bard’s crackerjack graduate ensemble, The Orchestra Now. Evening concerts will take place at the Sosnoff Theater, the state-of-art concert hall housed in the Frank Gehry-designed Fisher Center for the Performing Arts.
Daylight concerts and panels will be held across campus in the more intimate surroundings of the 300-seat Olin Hall. Performers will include superb musicians and ensembles from the faculty of the Bard Conservatory, guests, and visiting artists with long relationships with the festival.
For the uninitiated, the prospect of getting one’s head around Martinů’s output can seem a little daunting. Yet the composer’s music is immediately appealing, generally easily digestible, and often a great deal of fun.
Treat yourself to this preview featuring Bard co-artistic directors Leon Botstein and Christopher H. Gibbs. The music bed is from Martinů’s “Three Frescoes of Piero della Francesca” – not part of the festival, but performed on a previous concert by Botstein and The Orchestra Now.
I’m especially looking forward to hearing Martinů’s Nonet, the Cello Sonata No. 3, the Flute Sonata, the jazz sextet “La revue de cuisine,” and a selection of his Etudes and Polkas for piano. Among the larger works will be the Symphonies Nos. 2 & 6, “The Epic of Gilgamesh,” the Violin Concerto No. 2, and a semi-staged performance of his opera “Julietta.”
This being Bard, there will be plenty of fascinating rarities by other hands, including a string quartet by Martinů student (and mistress) Vítězslava Kaprálová and a piano concertino I didn’t even know existed by his friend and champion Rudolf Firkušný.
Also featured will be works by Iva Bittová, Aaron Copland, David Diamond, Antonín Dvořák, Petr Eben, Karel Husa, Leoš Janáček, Jaroslav Ježek, Arthur Honegger, Kryštof Mařatka, Jan Novák, Maurice Ravel, Jaroslav Řídký, Erwin Schulhoff, Josef Suk, Alexandre Tansman, Joan Tower, and Frank Zappa!
For more information about “Martinů and His World,” including a more complete schedule, visit
The festival is the crown jewel in the diadem of Bard SummerScape, Bard’s annual celebration of the arts, now in progress. Fans of Czech music will also eagerly anticipate a fully-stage production of Bedřich Smetana’s “Dalibor,” that will precede the Martinů festival, July 25-August 3.
Some of the events, including one of the performances of “Dalibor” will be available for livestreaming.
The festival’s annual tie-in book of scholarly essays will be released on August 12, but there will likely already be copies available at the festival.
It’s past time that American concertgoers and programmers hold Martinů’s music in the same esteem as that of his better-known compatriots, Dvořák, Smetana, and Janáček. Here’s hoping that Bard lends traction to this giant’s seven-league boots.
It’s Bastille Day. A French toast for breakfast, and a nod to two of France’s greatest composers of the Revolutionary Era.
On top of the usual burden of trying to cobble together a living as working musicians, both Étienne-Nicolas Méhul (1763-1817) and Luigi Cherubini (1760-1842) bore the additional stress of having to navigate an incendiary political environment.
When Méhul’s opera “Adrien” was banned, he quickly figured out which side his baguette was buttered on and began writing propaganda pieces and patriotic songs. Vive la France! He was rewarded by being the first composer named to the newly-established Institute de France in 1795. He was also installed as an inspector at the Paris Conservatory.
Allegedly, he was one of the favorite composers of Napoleon, with whom he was on friendly terms. He became one of the first recipients of Napoleon’s Légion d’honneur. According to musicologist and Berlioz biographer David Cairns, Méhul was also the first composer to be classified as “Romantic.”
Cherubini was born in Florence. He arrived in France in 1785. There, he was introduced to Marie Antoinette and, of necessity, as a musician, had many interactions with the aristocracy – which likely caused sweat to bead on his forehead in 1789.
Following the Revolution, Cherubini (born Maria Luigi Carlo Zenobio Salvatore Cherubini) adopted the French version of his name (Marie-Louis-Charles-Zénobi-Salvador Cherubini). It was during this period that his music began to really take flight. His works became more adventurous, more dynamic, more heroic. It’s not for no reason that Beethoven claimed him as an influence. His rescue opera “Lodoiska” served as a model for Beethoven’s “Fidelio.” Beethoven is also said to have found inspiration in Cherubini for the writing of his Fifth Symphony.
Following the Revolution, Cherubini took great care to play down his former aristocratic connections and cleave to the prevailing government. Every year for over a decade, he was mindful of composing at least one overtly patriotic work.
While Napoleon is said to have disliked Cherubini’s music, finding it “too complex,” he did appoint him director of music in Vienna. Perhaps Cherubini’s best-known work, the comic opera “Les deux journée” (“The Two Days”), was written in an intentionally simplified style and became an enormous hit. Beethoven kept Cherubini’s score on his desk at the time he was engaged in the writing of “Fidelio.” The incident upon which the opera is based allegedly occurred during the time of the Revolution, but again, treading lightly, Cherubini and his librettist, Jean-Nicolas Bouilly, erred on the side of caution, setting the action in a safely remote 1647.
Gradually, as Cherubini’s operas began to fall out of fashion, he transitioned to writing church music. His Requiem in C minor, again, was particularly admired by Beethoven (also Schumann and Brahms).
In 1822, Cherubini became director of the Paris Conservatory. There he came into conflict with a young firebrand by the name of Hector Berlioz. Berlioz’s withering and amusing portrayal of Cherubini in his “Mémoires,” as a hidebound pedant, has colored the elder composer’s reputation to the present day, more indelibly than has any of Cherubini’s own music.
However, during his lifetime, the composer enjoyed fame and fortune and was the recipient of France’s highest and most prestigious honors.
Méhul, Symphony No. 3
Méhul, “Le chant du départ”
Cherubini, “Anacréon” Overture
Cherubini, “Hymn du Panthéon”
Berlioz’s arrangement of “La Marseillaise”
They kept their heads: Luigi Cherubini (left) and Étienne-Nicolas Méhul
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