You were an associate, friend and disciple of Gustav Mahler. You championed new works by Schoenberg, Stravinsky and Hindemith. You tolerated no coughing or sneezing from your audience. You suffered from severe cyclothymic bipolar disorder. You answered the door to your dressing room in your boxers and covered in lipstick. You underwent surgery to remove a brain tumor “the size of a small orange.” When placed in an institution, you escaped. You took a severe spill, requiring you to conduct from a chair. You set yourself on fire and tried to douse the flames with spirits of camphor. You sired Colonel Klink. Your career was capped by a glorious Indian Summer that spanned 20 years. You lived to the ripe old age of 88. In short, you had all the qualifications to be one of the 20th century’s greatest conductors.
Happy birthday, Otto Klemperer (1885-1973).
Join me for a celebration of Klemperer’s artistry (alongside works of Lou Harrison, Johan Peter Emilius Hartmann, and Zygmunt Stojowski), between 4 and 7 p.m. EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
Very sorry to learn of the passing of conductor Jesús López-Cobos. His high profile in the United States came with the music directorship of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra from 1986 to 2001 (he was later its Conductor Emeritus) and a recording contract with Telarc records. I can’t believe he was already 78 years-old. Time is ruthless.
I don’t know if you remember Paul Angerer. The Austrian violist and later conductor died on Wednesday at the age of 90. We’ll hear him leading a Handel concerto grosso at around 4:35 EDT. Then I’ll follow that up with one of Angerer’s own compositions (yes, he was also a composer). Tune in now to WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
It’s hard to believe that Riccardo Muti is 76 years-old. It seems like only yesterday that Philadelphians were more interested in talking about his hair than his music-making.
Yes, yes, Muti is the villain that destroyed the “Philadelphia sound.” He believed that Beethoven maybe shouldn’t sound like Mahler. A lot of the old-timers couldn’t handle that.
Also, he wasn’t shy about dressing down the audience if he felt someone had crossed a line, as in applauding after the rousing third movement of Tchaikovsky’s “Pathètique” Symphony. I shudder to think what he would have done had there been cell phones then.
Oddly, the one time an audience member was deliberately confrontational (after a scheduled piece by Varèse was replaced by Prokofiev’s “Classical” Symphony), he merely dropped his arms and waited for the agitator to be carried out.
What I remember most about the Muti era in Philadelphia was concert after concert of amazing Bruckner, Shostakovich and Scriabin, with the shockwaves being sent straight up to the top of the two-dollar-a-ticket amphitheatre at the old, “dry” Academy of Music.
Okay, so he wasn’t a magician like Stokowski, and he wasn’t as user-friendly as Ormandy. Muti had passion wrapped up in the veneer of “authenticity.” He gave lip-service to worshipping at the altar of Toscanini, who claimed deference to “the score.” But in performance, a lot of things can happen, and very few of Muti’s performances were museum pieces.
I confess I haven’t really followed his career in Chicago. They seem to love him there. During important sports milestones, he even leads the symphony while wearing a Blackhawks jersey. I couldn’t imagine him doing something like that during his Philadelphia years, even though there isn’t a city that’s crazier about its teams than Philadelphia.
The overall impression of his departure was one of contentiousness. He didn’t get his new concert hall, though he did begin the push that resulted in the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts. He wouldn’t have been caught dead going the populist route of “Yannick,” the maestro in our midst, who is all smiles as he gets tattooed in a t-shirt.
There was also some broken china when Muti left La Scala. He made waves when he refused to allow star singers to reprise arias, which had been an ingrained custom following a rapturous reception from the audience. More damagingly, he clashed with the general manager and eventually the musicians. Hey, he’s Italian. They’re all Italian, just about. Grant him some temperament.
And now, suddenly, Riccardo Muti is one of classical music’s old lions. Join me today as we celebrate his birthday with some of his recordings, from 4 to 6 p.m. EDT. “Picture Perfect” will follow at 6 (more on that in a bit), on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
In case you think Muti doesn’t have a sense of humor, check out this fabulous speech as he accepts an honor (Musician of the Year) from Musical America:
When Kurt Masur died two years ago at the age of 88, many of his obituaries lauded him as the conductor who rebuilt the New York Philharmonic. Masur, longtime kapellmeister of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, brought no-nonsense discipline and a meat-and-potatoes diet of Beethoven and Brahms to Manhattan’s flagging flagship ensemble.
He may not have always been the most exciting conductor, or the most charismatic, but he exuded authority and demanded respect. This was the man who managed to get a new concert hall built in East Germany during the Cold War and was permitted to lead the Gewandhaus Orchestra, ensconced behind the Iron Curtain, on international tours. In 1989, when violence threatened to erupt in the streets, Masur brokered peace, inviting protesters in to his concert hall to meet with the East German leadership.
An unlikely candidate for the directorship of the New York Philharmonic, he improved the sound of both the orchestra and its hall, brought in new players like principle cellist Carter Brey, and began collaborating with trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, artistic director of Jazz at Lincoln Center. Interestingly, given his devotion to the core repertoire, Masur during his New York tenure also spearheaded the commissioning of over 40 new works.
In addition, he held important posts with the Orchestre National de France, the London Philharmonic, the Israel Philharmonic, and, earlier in his career, the Dresden Philharmonic.
I hope you’ll join me today, on what would have been Masur’s 90th birthday, as we listen to a selection of his recordings, including music by Felix Mendelssohn, Max Bruch, and Franz Liszt. We remember the maestro, from noon to 4 p.m. EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
PHOTO: Kurt Masur with the London Philharmonic at his old stomping ground, the Leipzig Gewandhaus, in 2010
