This week on “The Lost Chord,” to coincide with Armed Forces Day, we’ll listen to Marc Blitzstein’s “Airborne Symphony.”
The programmatic work, a quasi-oratorio, was written on a commission from the U.S. Army, while the composer was serving in its Air Force. It traces the evolution of flight from its conception in theory to its use in modern warfare.
The piece was envisaged by Blitzstein as a big symphony on the theme of “the sacred struggle of airborne free men of the world… to crush the monstrous fascist obstructionist in their path.” Begun in 1943, at the height of World War II, it would not be completed until 1946, after the conflict had ended.
Leonard Bernstein, a lifelong admirer of the composer (he mounted a performance of Blitzstein’s pro-labor musical, “The Cradle Will Rock,” while still at student at Harvard, and dedicated his own opera, “Trouble in Tahiti,” to him), conducted the premiere virtually while the ink was still wet on the page.
He recorded the piece twice. We’ll hear the second of those recordings, from 1966, with Orson Welles the narrator, vocal soloists, the New York Philharmonic, and the men of the Choral Arts Society.
It may not be the most profound of Bernstein’s recordings, but it surely is one of the most unusual. I hope you’ll join me for “Flight of Fancy” 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!
https://kwax.uoregon.edu
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PHOTO: Blitzstein and Bernstein, dining al fresco
Tag: Leonard Bernstein
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In the Open Air with Marc Blitzstein on “The Lost Chord”
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In the Blink of an Eye, Michael Tilson Thomas Is No More
This is one of those days I always knew would come – at least for the last five years or so – and now I am very sorry it’s here. For the conductor Michael Tilson Thomas has died.
In my memory, Tilson Thomas will always be the effusive, boyish protégé of Leonard Bernstein. There are many, I’m sure, who during those early years predicted he would inherit Bernstein’s mantle as the most recognized and beloved American conductor. Alas, it did not come to pass. It’s not that he wasn’t recognized and beloved, but there could be only one Leonard Bernstein. Still, MTT had a great career and a rewarding life. You can’t fault excellence for not attaining superstardom.
At one time or another, he held positions as music director of the Buffalo Philharmonic, chief conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, founder and artistic director of the New World Symphony (an ensemble made up of gifted young musicians), and music director of the San Francisco Symphony. He also enjoyed a fruitful relationship with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, of which he was once assistant conductor and with which he made some classic recordings.
Over0 the course of his career, Tilson Thomas amassed a cabinet full of Grammys, a Peabody Award, a National Medal of Arts, and a Kennedy Center Honor. Like Bernstein, he was also a composer. A few of his works reflected his Jewish heritage and honored his grandparents’ experience in the Yiddish theater. (He was the grandson of Boris and Bessie Thomashefsky.)
There’s plenty in his discography that’s given me great pleasure over the years: recordings of the symphonies of Charles Ives; orchestral works of Aaron Copland and Igor Stravinsky; a colorful selection of “Bachianas Brasileiras” by Heitor Villa-Lobos; a fascinating curio, “The American Flag,” by Antonín Dvořák; an album of the late choral works of Beethoven (including “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage”) that I acquired on vinyl from my local record store when I was in high school; of course his Gershwin records, especially the one with “Rhapsody in Blue” in its original version; and a knock-out disc of American orchestral works, including Walter Piston’s Symphony No. 2, Ives’ “Three Places in New England,” and that prickly masterpiece, Carl Ruggles’ “Sun-Treader.”MTT recorded the complete works of Ruggles, a cantankerous, problematic composer, who wrote music of uncompromising integrity and dissonance. These were released on a two-LP set on CBS Masterworks. It must have sold about five copies, because the label never bothered to reissue it on compact disc, so that it became a kind of Holy Grail among collectors. It finally reappeared on the independent label Other Minds, 37 years later, in 2017! It would have been nice had they retained the design of the original album, but some of the elements were the same. Significantly, they were able to hang on to the program notes, which were supplemented by photos and an essay by Lou Harrison.
Tilson Thomas conducted the first concert I ever saw with the Philadelphia Orchestra at the Mann Music Center in the summer of 1984, when he was joined by André Watts, the soloist in Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2, and after intermission led the ensemble in Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra – with a thunderstorm looming, no less. Why they didn’t clear the lawn, I have no idea. You were just expected to pull your shirt over your head or run for cover in those days.
The last time I saw him was in Philadelphia in 2008, this time indoors at the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts, when he was joined by Paul Jacobs for Copland’s Organ Symphony and then, on the concert’s second half, he conducted Mahler’s Symphony No. 5.
As is so often the case, we tend to take what’s available to us for granted. So it was like a splash of ice water, when five years ago, Tilson Thomas was diagnosed with glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer. Although he scaled back his activities for treatment and to husband his resources, he continued to perform, and during the period, a sort of sustained victory lap, he was received by audiences everywhere with notable warmth.
His husband, Joshua Robison, died only two months ago. The two met in junior high school and were together for 50 years.
Tilson Thomas is one of those figures I will always remember in the summer of his youth. I recollect watching him play Copland’s Piano Variations on a PBS television documentary about the composer, broadcast over 40 years ago now, and his commentary about the piece, which he compared to a skyscraper in sound. I can’t get over how quickly time passes.
Michael Tilson Thomas was 81 years-old. R.I.P. -

Bernstein and Haydn: Synergy of Strange Bedfellows
I’m not sure elegance is near the top of anyone’s list when they consider the attributes of Dionysian Leonard Bernstein. I mean, he could cut a dapper figure, especially during the “matinee idol” years of his youth and early middle-age. He spoke well, and at concert time or before the cameras, he was invariably well-dressed, with that hair and that cigarette, seductively cool in black and white. But by the 1970s, he started to let it all hang out. That’s when he would show up at rehearsal dressed like a French wharf rat, all stubbly, in a striped sailor shirt and neckerchief. You be you, Lenny.

But a strange synergy occurred whenever he conducted the music of Franz Joseph Haydn. Haydn, that most elegant of composers – except when he wasn’t (cue flatulent bassoon jokes) – virtually invented the modern symphony, or perfected it anyway. During the Classical era, it adhered to some pretty strict rules – which Haydn would then either humorously or dramatically manipulate or subvert.
In the arts, it was once common knowledge that the way to freedom was through order. Once you internalize the rules and master the technique, you can pretty much do whatever you want. And no one knew his way around the symphony better than Haydn. He composed at least 106 of them (104 of them numbered) over a period of about 40 years. That’s an astronomic level of devotion to a single form, and it was far from Haydn’s exclusive focus. (He’s also credited as the father of the modern string quartet.)
Bernstein, of course, developed a reputation for bringing great energy and involvement to highly subjective interpretations of music by composers such as Gustav Mahler. At his most thrilling, his identification with the composer could be so complete, it was as if he was creating the music himself. That doesn’t always mean his “identification” was exactly what the composer had in mind. But, totally unexpectedly, this celebrated proponent of some of the most flamboyant music in the repertoire turned out to be an outstanding Haydn interpreter.
Bernstein’s Haydn is marked by great fluency and fun. He just GOT him, and I suspect there wasn’t a hell of a lot of analytical thinking behind it. The way we all just click with certain people and not with others – that’s how it was with these two. The high priest of emotional truth saw past the formal principles of the 18th century to Haydn the man and totally grokked where he was coming from. Haydn at his best is not a dry or boring “textbook” composer. He was a living, breathing human being, full of clever ideas, subject to a range of emotions, and brimming with good humor.
Whenever I need a lift, I need look no further than Lenny’s recordings of the “Paris” Symphonies. Of these, the Symphony No. 82, subtitled the “Bear,” is perhaps my favorite. Bernstein’s “Bear” (not to be confused with a Berenstain Bear) is a treasure, energetic, lyrical, and exhilarating.
FUN FACTS: The first performance was conducted by Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges. Saint-Georges was a talented athlete, a respected swordsman, and the first classical composer of African descent to achieve widespread acclaim in Europe.
The symphony’s nickname, the “Bear,” was bestowed not by Haydn, but by someone else, picking up on the repeated drone in the work’s finale. In those days, dancing bears were accompanied by bagpipes as a popular form of street entertainment. See if you can hear the dancing bear in the fourth movement of Haydn’s symphony.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SjNmqj0czM
When it comes to Lenny’s Haydn, there’s also this precious document, in which he conducts the last movement of the Symphony No. 88 – with his eyes! Of course, he does it as an encore. For the complete performance, you can scroll back to the beginning of the video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXEldU1UC70&t=1511s
Want more? Here you go: the “Paris” Symphonies (82-87), the Symphony No. 88, and from the “London” Symphonies, the Symphony No. 93 (with a flatulent bassoon joke in the slow movement), the Symphony No. 94 (the famous “Surprise” Symphony), and the Symphony No. 95. The collection starts with the “Bear.” You can either skip over it or revel in it all over again.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOrjmUI5f9Y
Happy birthday, Haydn! -

A Lament for Jubilant
This is very sad, all the more horrible, coming as it does during the holiday season. Jubilant Sykes appeared in the world’s great opera houses and sang the Celebrant on a Grammy-nominated album of Leonard Bernstein’s “Mass.”
He died on Monday of stab wounds allegedly inflicted by his son.
Sykes was 71 years old.
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Aaron Copland, on the 35th Anniversary of His Death
Aaron Copland died on this date in 1990. By that time, the grand old man of American music was deep in my heart. I can’t believe there was ever a time that I didn’t care for his cowboy ballets, but I didn’t like them when I first encountered them. Where was my soul?
Yeah, I liked “Appalachian Spring” and of course “Fanfare for the Common Man,” but it wasn’t until I left my small town for college in the big city that listening to Copland tore my heart out. In a good way. The man was the voice of an idealized America. 35 years later, I wonder if he still is?
Unquestionably, he was the most prominent and influential American classical music composer of his generation. He helped distill and elevate the variety and dynamism of our distinctly American idioms and for the first time place them on a competitive footing with most of what Europe had to offer.
He himself was quintessentially American. Born in Brooklyn in 1900 to hard-working Jewish immigrants, he lived through Tin Pan Alley and the Jazz Age, the Great Depression, and two world wars. In between, he studied in France, where he was exposed to and assimilated influences from the best of Europe. He experimented with modernist techniques, immersed himself in jazz and American folk song, and internalized the brave new world of serialism. Despite this restless curiosity, he never lost his own, distinctive voice.
I always marvel, when viewing documentaries about prominent figures who emerged from that era, at just how much people of Copland’s generation lived through. We see black and white photos of kids dressed like sailors or rolling hoops with sticks for entertainment – and then, decades later, here they were, in suit and tie, still walking among us. At least, that’s the way it was back then. In the 1980s, we were maybe 40 years from their most important achievements. Now we’re 40 years from the 1980s. Do younger people, in the field or otherwise, care anymore? Do they even remember?
1990 was a rough year for American music. Leonard Bernstein, who smoked too much, died in October at the age of 72. We had a good thing going here, in terms of building on what seemed to be a solid foundation for a domestic art music. Certainly artists continue to compose, but there doesn’t appear to be any centralized school of composition anymore. It’s a diverse country, so I suppose it was inevitable that our music would return to the eclecticism from which it emerged. Historical “lines” are often constructs anyway, as there is always significant activity going on outside the mainstream, beyond that which is endorsed by the establishment.
I love Copland, and he could be a generous man, but I can’t help but feel bad about his public humiliation of Alan Hovhaness. Hovhaness had received a scholarship to study at Tanglewood. It was in Bohuslav Martinů’s composition class that a record of Hovhaness’ “Exile Symphony” was played. The work, like much of Hovhaness’ music, is steeped in Eastern influences. The whole while, Copland was transparently disinterested, carrying on conversations in Spanish with his Latin American students. Afterward Bernstein mocked it at the piano, characterizing it as “ghetto music.” The comment, which was met with derisive laughter, was especially insensitive, as the work was Hovhaness’ response to the Armenian genocide. But none of us is perfect, and this was a rare lapse for Copland, who did so much to help so many.
Americans are still underrepresented on the podiums of this country’s major orchestras, and American music comprises the merest fraction of what is performed in our concert halls. Things are better for the living than for those of the “Greatest Generation.” It’s not uncommon for a new work to open a concert. But you’re not going to encounter too many full-length American symphonies on the second half of a program.
Contrast that with the American composers who came up during the Depression and were active at mid-century. Copland has certainly been luckier than most. We still encounter a number of the major works on concert programs, but these are selected largely from a narrow span of some 20 years, give or take, out of his overall output. And that’s probably about as good as it gets. But it’s not all that different from what we hear of most of the European masters. The same handful of works, played over and over. It’s a big deal if somebody programs a Haydn symphony that doesn’t bear a nickname.
On October 2, 1990, I remember listening to WFLN, Philadelphia’s (now-defunct) classical music station, which had been in existence since 1949 – the year Copland composed his Academy Award winning film score for “The Heiress.” My future WWFM colleague Bill Shedden came on that evening to share the sad news that Aaron Copland had died. It’s difficult to describe the emotions I felt, as Shedden broadcast, by way of memorial, Copland’s second set of “Old American Songs.” It was the classic recording with baritone William Warfield and the composer conducting. It was a beautiful choice. I remember regretting that I never wrote him – an actual letter, in those pre-internet days – to tell him just how much his music meant to me.
Anyway, it’s always been a part of me, and I am looking forward to the listening to the quixotic, 5-day, 41-hour marathon of his music coming up on Harvard’s radio station, WHRB, beginning at 1:00 this afternoon, EST. If you’d like to know more about it, I wrote about it yesterday. Here’s a link to the post.
https://rossamico.com/2025/12/01/fanfare-for-an-uncommon-copland-broadcast
Stream the signal at https://www.whrb.org/
And spread the word among your music-loving friends!
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PHOTO: Copland and Bernstein with the score to “El Salón México”
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