Tag: Leon Botstein

  • Berlioz: Underappreciated Romantic?

    Berlioz: Underappreciated Romantic?

    Is Hector Berlioz the Rodney Dangerfield of composers? *

    Despite being one of the foremost musical representatives of the Romantic era, let’s face it, Berlioz gets little respect. Or at least that was the case for much of his life and the decades following his death.

    Now he’s about to receive the full treatment from the Bard Music Festival. (More on that below.)

    Before recordings, assessments of Berlioz’s music leaned heavily on hearsay, a game of Whisper Down the Lane, distorted by prejudice, misperception, and so-called received wisdom. Even during his life – ESPECIALLY during his life – his music was met with confusion, opposition, and often outright hostility. So it always is with the new.

    And Berlioz was nothing if not original. If there was ever a composer who was ahead of his time, it was Hector Berlioz.

    Thankfully, this visionary artist has long since been vindicated. Enthusiasts are very enthusiastic indeed. But there remain those who are unconverted among the listening public. Because, let’s be honest, emerging as he did in the Paris of Boieldieu, Auber, and Meyerbeer, Berlioz was just weird. He’s still weird. With his moodiness, quirky orchestration, and willingness to shatter the rules in order to achieve his desired effects, he was a flagrant outcast among French composers. His cause was not helped by inept performances and push-back from the hidebound faculty of the Paris Conservatory (overseen by Luigi Cherubini).

    It’s interesting that this arch-Romantic worshipped at the altars of Gluck and Spontini. He felt everything so very deeply; he experienced everything so keenly, especially music. He was particularly transported by the noble simplicity of his heroes’ operas.

    On the other hand, he was also a champion of Paganini, whom he befriended in the violinist’s retirement, though he never heard him perform. (If only there had been recordings!) Paganini, of course, was legendary for his gymnastic manipulation of his instrument, as was Franz Liszt, of the piano – Liszt also admired by Berlioz. (The admiration was reciprocated.) These gentlemen could be as indulgent as Gluck and Spontini were chaste.

    Berlioz’s reaction when his fiancée broke off their engagement was more Dionysian than Apollonian. He formulated a murder-suicide plot every bit as over-the-top as something out of Alexandre Dumas (also his contemporary). It involved a vertiginous coach ride back from Italy, unlikely disguise – crossdressing, complete with a veil – and a contingency plan to administer poison in the event his pistols jammed or misfired. Thankfully, the composer’s head cooled once he discovered he had forgotten his dress.

    Since performances were scarce and often substandard, Berlioz earned much of his livelihood through his writings. And Berlioz was not one who was bashful about speaking his mind. His amusing and withering assessments, often couched in wry observation and sarcasm, earned him many enemies. He was in no way cut out for what he perceived – often rightly – as the superficiality of Paris, yet he loved and thrived on the city, and he would not leave. He was much better-received in London, and he entertained the idea of moving, but Paris was in his blood.

    Now, of course, we are blessed with recordings and radio broadcasts. Some of Berlioz’s works are standard repertoire. It is now easy to acquaint oneself with his eccentric symphonies – often symphonies, in the classical sense, in name only – his choral works, his songs, and his operas. His greatest hit, the “Symphonie fantastique,” loses some of its punch, unavoidably, through overexposure and the anesthetizing effect of all the developments in music since, but it will never be entirely free of its strangeness, thank goodness.

    “Harold in Italy,” the “Queen Mab Scherzo” (from the “Romeo and Juliet” Symphony), “The Damnation of Faust,” and some of the overtures, especially “Roman Carnival,” are here to stay.

    Lesser known are the cantatas, the songs, and some of the hybrid works, such as the melodrama “Lélio, or The Return to Life,” a sequel of sorts to the “Symphonie fantastique.”

    “Lélio” will receive a rare performance on a double bill with Berlioz’s most famous symphony – which itself concludes with a hair-raising evocation of a witches’ sabbath (that incorporates that horror movie staple, the “Dies Irae”) – to kick off this year’s Bard Music Festival. “Hector Berlioz and His World” will take place at Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, NY, August 9-18.

    Rarely-performed is what Bard does best, so there will be ample opportunities to enjoy musical curiosities. Morning and afternoon concerts will feature chamber music and songs; evening concerts will lean into the orchestral and choral works. Berlioz’s song cycles “Irlande” (“Ireland”) and “Les nuits d’’été (“Summer Nights”) will be performed, as will his monumental “Te Deum” and “The Damnation of Faust” (complete).

    The addendum “His World” will encompass music of his contemporaries, but also that of his influences and those he in turn influenced. Pauline Viardot’s opera, “Le dernier sorcier” (“The Last Sorcerer”), will be heard; also Louise Farrenc’s Symphony No. 3, Joachim Raff’s Symphony No. 10 “Autumn,” and Liszt’s transcription of Berlioz’s “Harold in Italy” for viola and piano.

    Bard being Bard, there will also be a concert devoted to “Berlioz’s Transformation of the World of Sound,” the program spiraling off into unsuspected territory, exploring works by Edgard Varèse, Olivier Messiaen, Luciano Berio, Steve Reich, and György Ligeti.

    As always, there will be pre-concert talks, scholarly symposia, and plenty of Berlioz merch for purch (including, but not limited to, the festival t-shirt and a book of critical essays compiled specifically for the occasion).

    The American Symphony Orchestra and The Orchestra Now (TŌN) will perform, under their music director, Leon Botstein (also the president of Bard College). In the afternoons, performers are drawn from Bard’s deep well of faculty, alumni, and visiting artists. This is not just a college music festival. I’ve seen some world-class artists and first-rate chamber ensembles there, including Christine Goerke, Stephanie Blythe, Nicholas Phan, pianists Piers Lane and Danny Driver, the Parker Quartet, and the Horszowski Trio, to name a few), along with the occasional actor, such as Michael York and David Straitharn.

    As always at Bard, you get out of it whatever you put into it. If total immersion is your thing, by all means, go for it. The festival is designed with you in mind. However, not to the exclusion of anyone who just wants to go and enjoy a good concert. Bard satisfies on that level too. Scholars, geeks, and dilettantes come together for two weekends of musical bliss (now bridged by a couple of mid-week concerts held at Church of the Messiah in nearby Rhinebeck).

    No matter how well you think you know a particular composer, I guarantee you will learn a lot. I’ve been boning up for the last month or two with a couple of volumes of Berlioz’s own writings. More about those another time.

    For now, vive le Bard!

    For more information, visit

    https://fishercenter.bard.edu/whats-on/programs/bard-music-festival/

    Fisher Center at Bard


    • Credit where credit is due! The observation was originally made by Facebook follower John M Polhamus.
  • Schoenberg’s Gurre-Lieder at Carnegie Hall

    Schoenberg’s Gurre-Lieder at Carnegie Hall

    On Friday, I attended an all-too-rare performance of Arnold Schoenberg’s “Gurre-Lieder” at Carnegie Hall. I confess, I prefer the alternate spelling, without the hyphen, but since everything about “Gurre-Lieder” screams excess, I might as well swing for the fences. The American Symphony Orchestra was led by the indefatigable Leon Botstein, always one of my heroes for resurrecting underperformed repertoire and presenting it in a scholarly context. (Unfortunately, I missed the pre-concert talk.) Ostensibly, the Carnegie performance was planned to honor Schoenberg’s 150th birthday, the actual anniversary of which will fall in September. But any performance of “Gurre-Lieder” requires no excuse.

    This is not your grandpa’s Schoenberg – the high priest of dodecaphony who changed music forever and scared your grandma off buying tickets – but rather your great-grandpa’s Schoenberg – young, passionate, and all juiced up on Romanticism. Take Wagner, Strauss, and Mahler, toss them in a blender, and turn it up to 11. The composer embarked on the piece between 1900 and 1903 and completed it, after the interval of a few years, in 1911. The result is monumental post-Romanticism in its full flowering. The scoring itself is colossal, with vocal soloists, speaker, and three choruses. Its two-hour running time is epic and absorbing.

    “Gurre-Lieder” (“Songs of Gurre”) weaves texts by Jens Peter Jacobsen into a tapestry of doomed love, blasphemy, and damnation, unfurled at Castle Gurre in medieval Denmark. But it is a Middle Ages steeped in myth and legend. The work climaxes with a harrowing evocation of the Wild Hunt, with ghostly and supernatural beings roaring across the night sky, and concludes with an opulent sunrise.

    For all his laudable achievements, Botstein often takes heat for not being the most inspiring of conductors. It’s true, I didn’t feel quite as much juice radiating from the stage as I did the last time I heard the piece, with Simon Rattle, at Philadelphia’s Academy of Music in 2000. But Carnegie is a much larger hall. Acoustically, the vocalists were difficult to hear, from my vantage in the Dress Circle; but one would have to be the most reckless of heldentenors even to attempt to pierce the sonic blast of a 150-piece orchestra.

    Even so, all of the singers had their moments. The efforts of Dominic Armstrong to convey the ardor, brooding, and bitterness of King Waldemar were often frustrated by being swallowed up by his instrumental neighbors. He was best heard in the second half as, bereft at the murder of his mistress, Tove, by his wife, Queen Helvig, Waldemar essentially shakes an angry fist at God. For this, the king is condemned for all eternity to lead a pack of ghosts and reanimated skeletons on a nightly, hell-for-leather tour about the gloomy castle and its environs.

    The fearful sight is recounted by a pious Peasant, sung on Friday by bass-baritone Alan Held. Held was easier to make out, since Schoenberg’s orchestration of the latter half of the oratorio is more forgiving, in some regards, the composer having returned to complete the work after a hiatus, during which he obviously learned a thing or two about transparency.

    Carsten Wittmoser, as the speaker, supplied the uncanny narration in sprechstimme, an eerie netherworld of blended speech and song, which Schoenberg would explore more fully in “Pierrot Lunaire.”

    In one of those grotesque comic interludes of a kind seemingly so popular among Central European post-Romantics, tenor Brenton Ryan came across best among the male soloists, as he went the furthest to inhabit his part as Klaus the Fool. You really could imagine this jester being swept along against his will, face-to-tail, on horseback.

    Of the women, the palm went to Krysty Swann as the melancholy Wood Dove, who delivers the news of Tove’s death. Felicia Moore, as Tove, again had to push against the orchestra, though she seemed to be a good choice for the role. Both successfully landed their high notes.

    The chorus – though it seemed smaller than what I am accustomed to seeing in this work (I count 80 singers in the program; Schoenberg called for 200) – was appropriately rowdy and powerful when needed.

    No team of unamplified singers is ever going to go up against “Gurre-Lieder” in a hall of that size and be heard by everyone. Under the circumstances, supertitles would have been a great help and a sensible choice. Instead, the audience muddled through the old-fashioned way, with the very wordy text reproduced in the program in microscopic font to be discerned in semi-darkness.

    By coincidence, Friday also happened to be the anniversary of the birth of Werner Klemperer, son of conductor Otto Klemperer and two-time Emmy Award winner for his memorable turn as Colonel Klink on “Hogan’s Heroes.”

    Klemperer provided the sprechstimme as the Speaker on the late Seiji Ozawa’s recording of “Gurre-Lieder,” appearing alongside James McCracken, Jessye Norman, and Tatiana Troyanos. The recording was taken from a live performance, so it may well be the same as the one on this video, or at the very least it was taken from the same series of concerts. Klemperer makes his entrance at around 1 hour and 34 minutes in. And yes, he speaks fluent German.

    What you see in the video is wonderful, of course, but it is but a pale reflection of the visceral impact of experiencing the work live.

    I saw Klemperer (the son, not the father, alas) in person several times, narrating Beethoven’s “Egmont” with the Philadelphia Orchestra, playing the Majordomo (another speaking role) in a concert performance of Strauss’ “Ariadne auf Naxos,” again with the Philadelphia Orchestra, and as emcee for a starry gala for the Opera Company of Philadelphia – all at the old Academy of Music. I missed him in his Tony-nominated turn as Herr Schultz in the 1987 Broadway revival of “Cabaret” – which my parents attended – because I chose to hear the New York Philharmonic that night. (Kent Nagano conducted George Benjamin’s “Ringed by the Flat Horizon” and Béla Bartók’s “The Wooden Prince,” and Bella Davidovich was the soloist in Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2.)

    As I said, the last time I heard “Gurre-Lieder” live was in Philadelphia in 2000, with Simon Rattle conducting. The audience was whipped into ecstasies with that one. Most memorably, in the moment’s silence following the last decay of the music, and just before the explosion of frenzied applause, there came from somewhere in the balcony a deeply satisfied “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

    The Philadelphia Orchestra gave the work its first American performance under Leopold Stokowski in 1932. Needless to say, because of the forces involved, and the expense in mounting it, it is seldom done, but when it is, it pleases the crowd mightily.

    Happy belated birthday, Werner Klemperer (1920-2000), and thank you, Leon Botstein and the ASO!

    Werner’s dad conducting Schumann in Philadelphia

    I’ve written about Otto Klemperer many times on this site, as here:

    https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=1844909085676373&set=basw.AbpuDWzgKAkm3TnfgzQN9VOGciZh068VBmrEC7s6TZuOvY0sWP2WF65SWXdWvtPNl6UCFpVXon4JgBoPB7u-aMAhzDmHFuyeybByVgYBV44emn5MDHkc4woxlj1YKmzdbQVSErSOVvES01qL7mMlKN60pXCUOh8qZzl4h6trZoBN-n2-RxSWtACCnjor6Bv0KGg&opaqueCursor=AboKz2dejQ1QKxjJ3ZL-8qoWhLQ-ztweo9I-KkJj8ZokdKTf_ZpMGRNjk4oVHO2y2CcfPTdhpZyU1ieD1Z0xsw8x-9YsfVFb62KvmZRCm-VoaJogaKSEBfghzlZgXU_uaSA1EM5PsPr5Ahf_nUgzcj8EjKJSTgLhieT1O7OYp-tV8ieRxXXvOKZEgz6TFmFWxr5HZIvbablb42PklPcJeLJ4hfMRfKdWRJkeRBES69EBxIMGR41oUMFkmvEwxY2tnWP8rHj-RSNB_Oeml7DG_trUqiOWZ-hRS-2xjYlX4LUfX6wWfZYFQKHJHAeJF2sX95lHDtHFtCJcyM2g3gDHnnP2tzmsUt-55Cu393Naddj9TI5bX5vx159UKm7mfcuRZl00ycfyLW6KXwZxuCgoj9XHcc0KRpLnvw2QAmfuEBAxq_xx7zSL-PjxOvvhZlY3FBt88o9l5a5Xs2KSQuX2Q8Yb3xo9x-IW1KsSUL_Qpo_pjXQ8Uwsq1uysmCK0_DB2LmL06WcYWJT0MPhOeUZV6slrKVF3fe2S2c2TPgLGfpqLBk84t_yTR2QpjFf4Fk4HNCt871ShxLTxYDBTPN_c4WmAxi5ZysTxnV85RlHiDJB0Yp7pAiHl3LWjuVTPzRj1JTJ3kcXg1ML4e5fLwKCF4qR64sY7AuN4eblsnwn4rR7psQfLWXx_n60KORyc5jAirsse7eqy95OGaunXQK4pVsfc

  • John Foulds’ World Requiem Forgotten Masterpiece?

    John Foulds’ World Requiem Forgotten Masterpiece?

    It was on November 11, 1918 – the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month – that representatives of the Allied Forces and Germany sat down to sign the Armistice that concluded hostilities on the Western Front, formally ending the “War to End All Wars.”

    Five years later, John Foulds’ “A World Requiem,” conceived as a memorial to the dead of all nations, was given its first performance, on November 11th, 1923. The work was embraced by the public, though critical reaction was mixed. Subsequent performances took place from 1924 to 1926 as part of a Festival of Remembrance. After that, it lay unheard for some eight decades, until resurrected by conductor Leon Botstein.

    Botstein has dusted off more than his share of worthy curiosities over the years, though few more ambitious than “A World Requiem.” A performance of the 90-minute piece requires up to 1,250 musicians. The work’s world premiere recording, on the Chandos label, was taken from a live concert presented on Armistice Day 2007, at the venue in which the work was first heard, Royal Albert Hall London.

    The Requiem’s texts were derived from various spiritual sources by the composer’s wife, Maud MacCarthy, built on fragments from the Requiem Mass, as well as writings of John Bunyan and the Hindu poet Kabir. The overall tone is more Brahms than Britten. Part One of the oratorio promises peace and rest; Part Two conveys radiant visions of paradise.

    I had assumed that the work’s neglect had to do with the dual concerns of cost and evolving musical taste. However, around the time of the Requiem’s revival, it was discovered that performances may actually have been suppressed by the BBC, possibly at the instigation of Sir Adrian Boult – this despite the fact that Foulds donated all proceeds to the poppy appeal for the British legion. You can read more about the alleged “banning” of the Requiem here:

    https://www.manchester.ac.uk/discover/news/world-requiem-was-unofficially-banned/

    Across the pond and closer to home, in 1954, at the urging of U.S. veterans, Armistice Day was renamed Veterans Day. Though the intent of the holiday is frequently confused with that of Memorial Day, Veterans Day is a time to honor ALL military veterans, not just those who died in service to their country.

    Foulds’ gargantuan oratorio could serve double-duty. Sadly, it is almost never performed at all.

    The oratorio falls into 20 movements (two parts subdivided into ten each) for soloists, massed choirs, including children’s choirs, large orchestra, offstage instrumentalists, and organ. A progressive tonal framework is spiced with quarter tones, cluster chords, and certain repetitive sequences.

    War’s the pity. Always remember, and thank you to those who served.

    Part I

    1 I Requiem – 8:44
    2 II Pronuntiatio – 4:05
    3 III Confessio – 5:46
    4 IV Jubilatio – 5:06
    5 V Audite – 7:04
    6 VI Pax – 3:53
    7 VII Consolatio – 5:08
    8 XIII Refutatio – 0:38
    9 IX Lux Veritatis – 1:19
    10 X Requiem 3:25

    45:08

    Part II

    1 XI Laudamus – 6:30
    2 XII Elysium – 6:24
    3 XIII In Pace – 3:17
    4 Hymn of the Redeemed – 4:37
    5 XIV Angeli – 3:27
    6 XV Vox Dei – 3:07
    7 XVI Adventus – 4:01
    8 XVII Vigilate – 2:03
    9 XVIII Promissio et Invocatio – 7:30
    10 XIX Benedictio – 1:41
    11 XX Consummatus 2:06

    44:50

  • Leon Botstein on Vaughan Williams at Bard

    Leon Botstein on Vaughan Williams at Bard

    Profoundest thanks to Leon Botstein, music director of the American Symphony Orchestra, founder and music director of The Orchestra Now (TŌN), and president of Bard College, very generous with his time this morning in discussing the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams, along with a great many other things, in connection with an article I am preparing on this year’s Bard Music Festival.

    Botstein is co-artistic director of the festival, which completed its 33rd season on Sunday. He possesses an enviable combination of traits and talents, not least of which include intellectual curiosity, clearness of purpose, and an uncanny ability to trace baroque lines of thought through a network of arabesques while somehow never losing sight of his conclusions. The whole process is rather breathtaking, I must say. He plants his landings like an Olympic gymnast.

    He also seems genuinely interested in getting to know his interviewer. It’s not the first time we spoke, but I walk away feeling as if the conversation was nearly as much about me as it was him. Of course, I won’t be appearing in the article.

    Thanks again, President Botstein. Looking forward to “Berlioz and His World” at Bard in 2024!

    Fisher Center at Bard

  • Bard Music Festival Review A Listener’s Take

    As always, the Bard Music Festival is almost too much of a good thing. I’m not complaining – I wouldn’t have it any other way – but it sure is a lot to take in, and between all the travel and the intensive listening, the day after should be a day of rest!

    I’ll probably post about it in more detail soon (I’m writing an article about it), but for now, here’s a piece in the New York Times, if you missed it, about the first weekend’s concerts. I sat directly across the aisle from the writer as he scribbled in his program.

    While I more or less agree with his general impressions, I had a totally different experience of the Saturday night concert, which featured “Job, A Masque for Dancing,” the Concerto for Two Pianos, and the Symphony No. 4. Have I heard more shattering performances of the symphony? Yes, I have, but this one came at the end of a very demanding evening. I myself left the hall feeling somewhat bedraggled. That Leon Botstein and his orchestra acquitted themselves so well in three very difficult pieces (both for performers and, cumulatively, for listeners), by juxtaposing them to such provocative effect, is a testament to what this festival does best.

    More importantly, I don’t know when I will ever encounter “Job” or especially the concerto again in concert. Everyone involved with the festival has my sincerest gratitude. There are a couple of photos in the Times article at the link.

    Next year at Bard? Berlioz and His World!

    @[100063807330266:2048:Fisher Center at Bard]

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