Classic Ross Amico

Tag: Leonard Bernstein

Remembering André Watts Philadelphia’s Piano Icon

I am very sorry to learn that André Watts has died. Watts was a familiar presence in Philadelphia for decades. Indeed, he was the soloist on the first Philadelphia Orchestra concert I ever saw, playing the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2, at the Mann Center for the Performing Arts in Fairmount Park, on July 16, 1984, with Michael Tilson Thomas conducting.

An army brat born in Nuremberg, Germany, to a Hungarian mother (a pianist) and an African American father (a non-commissioned officer), Watts moved to Philadelphia with his family at the age of 8. Prior to that, he had studied violin in Europe. His mom gave him his first piano lessons.

Like most children, he disliked practicing. She captured his imagination by telling him about the young Franz Liszt and what he was able to achieve by applying himself and practicing faithfully.

Watts would continue to find inspiration in Liszt throughout his career. He was a great champion of the composer. In fact, it was as soloist in Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1 that he rocketed to fame after a performance with the New York Philharmonic conducted by Leonard Bernstein, televised as part of one the orchestra’s Young People’s Concerts, in January 1963. Watts was 16-years-old.

Later in the month, Glenn Gould fell ill, and Watts was invited back to play the Liszt concerto on an actual subscription concert. The performance generated such electricity that the hardboiled musicians of the Philharmonic joined the audience in a standing ovation. The performance was recorded and released on Columbia Masterworks, the thrill of the occasion preserved for posterity, as “The Exciting Debut of André Watts.”

Watts studied at the Philadelphia Musical Academy (now part of the University of the Arts), and then at the Peabody Institute in Baltimore under Leon Fleisher. In the meantime, his dance card was filling up fast. By 1969, his concerts were being booked three years in advance. He signed an exclusive recording contract with Columbia on his 21st birthday.

Alas, in more recent years, Watts suffered his share of health difficulties. In 2002, he underwent emergency surgery for a subdural hematoma. In 2004, a ruptured disc affected the use of his left hand. In 2019, he underwent surgery for further nerve damage.

An inveterate cigar smoker, he was diagnosed with (possibly unrelated?) prostate cancer in 2016. The cancer went into remission in 2017, but would return to claim him.

Despite his medical setbacks, Watts continued to perform. Personal illness did nothing to dampen his passion for playing in public, but the pandemic threw up some pretty steep barriers.

For certain, with half a century of performances and recordings behind him, and a National Medal of the Arts, among other honors, Watts had nothing more to prove. But he was determined to do what he loved for as long as he possibly could.

In an interview, he claimed that early on, what he really wanted to be was a writer. For Watts, communication with an audience – storytelling, if you will – was key.

He will be missed. R.I.P.

Introduced by Leonard Bernstein, then playing the stuffing out of Liszt

Visiting “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”

Playing Mendelssohn with John Williams and the Boston Pops

Rachmaninoff in New York

Liszt’s etude after Paganini’s “La Campanella”

July 13, 2023
Plimpton, Bernstein, and Tchaikovsky

After posting about Tchaikovsky’s “Little Russian” Symphony this morning, on the 150th anniversary of the work’s first performance, I recollected an anecdote once shared by the writer George Plimpton.

Plimpton, of course, was most famous for his forays into “participatory journalism” – getting his hands dirty, with the occasional gash or broken bone, in pursuit of a better understanding of the subject he happened to be writing about, whether it be what it would be like to box with Archie Moore, train to be a goalie with the Boston Bruins, or to play quarterback with the Detroit Lions.

The guy had guts, without the posturing of a Hemingway or a Mailer, and he wasn’t afraid to look foolish. Or if he was, he made pride subservient to the experience. It was an endearing quality in a man who spoke with a patrician accent, cofounded The Paris Review, and could trace his lineage to the Mayflower.

When Plimpton took an interest in what it would be like to be an orchestra musician, he was allowed to tag along with the New York Philharmonic as a percussionist on its Canadian tour. In this capacity, he played the sleigh bells in the opening movement of Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 – very badly, it turned out, which infuriated the conductor, Leonard Bernstein.

But Plimpton redeemed himself when he was assigned the gong in Tchaikovsky’s “Little Russian” Symphony. He was so keyed-up in the work’s final movement, as his big moment approached, that when he received his cue from the podium, he struck with such force that he claimed he could see the shock wave travel across the rows of stunned musicians to Bernstein himself, whose eyes widened in surprise. The conductor had to wait for the sound to decay before he could launch into the symphony’s final bars. Bernstein was so pleased with the result that he invited Plimpton to be on the recording of the piece that he and the orchestra subsequently made.

But I’m only paraphrasing from the words of a very capable writer. Here’s the story from Plimpton’s own lips. Enjoy!

https://www.c-span.org/video/?c4539798/user-clip-george-plimpton-joins-york-philharmonic

PHOTO: Plimpton (right) with Bernstein and the Mahler 4 sleigh bells

February 7, 2023
Bernstein, Shapero, and the Lost American Symphony

75 years ago today, the greatest American symphony no one knows was given its debut by the Boston Symphony, conducted by Leonard Bernstein.

Harold Shapero was 27 at the time his “Symphony for Classical Orchestra” received its premiere in 1948. He was one of the so-called “Boston Six,” a loose collective of composers that, along with Shapero and Bernstein, included Arthur Berger, Aaron Copland, Irving Fine, and Lukas Foss.

Shapero met Bernstein while a student at Harvard, where he studied composition with Walter Piston. He was also a student of Paul Hindemith at the Berkshire Music Center at Tanglewood, kind of a home away from home for the Six, and with Nadia Boulanger at the Longy School of Music. He even managed to secure some critiques from his idol, Igor Stravinsky.

Copland was perplexed by Shapero’s symphony, which may have been steeped in Stravinsky’s then-prevalent Neoclassicism, but clearly tipped its hat to Beethoven, with elements modelled on Beethoven’s Symphonies Nos. 3, 5, 7 & 9. Describing the composer as “the most gifted and baffling of his generation,” Copland added, “Stylistically, Shapero seems to feel a compulsion to fashion his music after some great model. He seems to be suffering from a hero-worship complex – or perhaps it is a freakish attack of false modesty.”

Bernstein would record Shapero’s 45-minute magnum opus with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra (in glorious mono). In the 1980s, the work was revived by André Previn and the Los Angeles Philharmonic (who also recorded it), and I know David Zinman and Leon Botstein conducted it in concert. There’s also a very fine album of some of Shapero’s other orchestral music, issued within the past few years by Boston Modern Orchestra Project (BMOP), conducted by Gil Rose. And if you’re a trumpet player, you may have encountered Shapero’s compact and appealing Trumpet Sonata.

Still, orchestras don’t seem to be beating a path to this worthwhile music, a fate shared by works of too many of Shapero’s mid-century colleagues. It’s all about name recognition, and if you’re not Copland, Barber, or Bernstein, you’re out of luck. (Gershwin died earlier, in 1937.) Why break your back and your budget rehearsing unfamiliar music when to play the standard repertoire is pure muscle memory, that also guarantees butts in seats?

The ascendency of serialism and a relative lack of interest in Shapero’s music caused him to gradually back off of composition. Like Sibelius, his last decades could be viewed as a great silence. Only in Sibelius’ case, he was a victim of his own success. Shapero never found himself in the enviable, albeit paralyzing position of trying to top his own, lavishly-praised masterworks. Largely neglected until the Previn revival, save for an occasional recording of a chamber or instrumental piece on New World Records, Shapero died in 2013 at the age of 93.

It’s a shame about the symphony. The orchestration is bright and cheerful, the tone is optimistic, the graceful craftsmanship is imbued with warmth and charm, and there are glints of wit in its abundant vitality. Check it out. You’ll be glad you did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5mVXYLeMko

Portrait of Harold Shapero by Gordon Parks

January 30, 2023
Yo-Yo Ma at 67 A Musical Life

The years, they do fly by. How could Yo-Yo Ma be 67? It seems only yesterday we were celebrating his 60th birthday.

Arguably the most visible and charismatic cellist of his generation, Ma was born on October 7, 1955. He’s recorded more than 90 albums and been recognized with 19 Grammy Awards. In addition, among innumerable other honors, he has been the recipient of the National Medal of the Arts and the Presidential Medal of Freedom. As recently as 2020, he was included in Time Magazine’s “100 Most Influential People.”

Ma began playing cello at the age of 4. That’s when he “put away childish things” – that is to say, a juvenile pursuit of the violin, viola, and piano! At 5, he began performing in public, and at 7, played for Presidents Dwight D. Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy. At 8, he was introduced to American television audiences courtesy of Leonard Bernstein. The next year, Isaac Stern brought him along to “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.”

This was all before Ma attended Juilliard, where he studied with Leonard Rose. He dropped out of Columbia – only to attend Harvard. He spent four summers at the Marlboro Music Festival, where he played under the direction of legendary cellist and conductor Pablo Casals. He’s been friends with Emanuel Ax, a regular chamber music partner, since their student days.

Ma has long been acclaimed for his interpretations of the Bach Cello Suites, chamber music by Beethoven and Brahms, and most of the major concertos for cello and orchestra. However, his first commercial recording, believe it or not, was of the Cello Concerto by English composer Gerald Finzi. Ma recorded the piece while in his early 20s, with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Vernon Handley.

Later, having conquered the classical concert hall and established his mastery of the standard repertoire, Ma proved increasingly restless and exploratory, with forays into Baroque music on period instruments, American bluegrass, Argentinean tango, improvisatory duets with Bobby McFerrin, and several musical journeys along the Silk Road.

He’s also been active in film, contributing to the soundtracks of “Seven Years in Tibet” and “Memoirs of a Geisha” for John Williams and “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” (the recipient of an Academy Award for Best Original Score) for Tan Dun. And of course his album of arrangements of Ennio Morricone themes sold faster than a tray full of cannoli.

Ma’s friendship with Williams also yielded a cello concerto, which they first recorded together in 1994. My most recent Ma acquisition is his recording of the concerto in its revised version, released earlier this year on Sony Classical, and of course it’s wonderful. However, the earlier release has an alluring bonus in Williams’ “Elegy,” reworked from material originally conceived for “Seven Years in Tibet” – six transporting minutes of unalloyed loveliness.

Ma is one of classical music’s last media celebrities, whether introducing kids to the cello on PBS’ “Arthur,” “Sesame Street,” or “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood,” or playing Bach in support of dancer Misty Copeland and sitting in with the band on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.”

I’ve been privileged to see him in concert several times. His love for music is such that it is not unusual for him to return after intermission, following a star turn in a big concerto, to modestly sit with the rest of the cello section and play in a symphony on the second half.

All in all, I suspect he’s a really good guy. Happy birthday, and thanks for everything, Yo-Yo Ma!

John Williams’ “Elegy”

On Colbert with Misty Copeland

At the age of 7, presented by Leonard Bernstein

“Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”

Ma with saxophonist Joshua Redman, playing “Crazy Bus” on “Arthur”

On “Sesame Street”

Gerald Finzi’s Cello Concerto

Bach, Suite No. 1 for Unaccompanied Cello

October 7, 2022
Bernstein’s Waterfront A Hollywood Contender

“I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody – instead of a bum, which is what I am.”

We’ve all had those kinds of days, haven’t we?

Yet Leonard Bernstein’s score for “On the Waterfront” (1954) was always a contender, even if at times the composer found himself on the ropes.

“On the Waterfront” was the only original film score composed by Bernstein (the screen adaptations of his stage musicals were adapted by other hands). Narrative film, of course, is a collaborative effort, in which music is usually the last to the table and the first to go. Bernstein’s score was edited and dialed down to suit the overall needs of the film.

Unused to such rough treatment, Bernstein found his brush with Hollywood to be dispiriting, to say the least. He arranged his music into a concert suite, over which he had complete control, and the work has gone on to become one of his better-known pieces. That said, what can be heard in the film remains a powerful statement, and one of the great film scores.

The original recordings, as they appear in the film, were long believed to have been lost. However, in the course of restoration of “On the Waterfront” for release on BluRay, it was discovered that audio had been preserved on acetate discs used for playback during the original recording sessions. Material from these were issued for the first time in 2014, on the Intrada label.

Bernstein’s music would be nominated for an Academy Award, one of “On the Waterfront”s twelve nominations. The film would be recognized with wins in eight categories, including Best Picture, Best Actor (Marlon Brando), and Best Director (Elia Kazan). Bernstein may have lost out to Dimitri Tiomkin for his work on “The High and the Mighty.” However, like Brando’s Terry Malloy, his score to “On the Waterfront” proves itself a champion.

We’ll hear selections, alongside some of Aaron Copland’s music for “The Red Pony” (1949), once again, from the film’s original elements; dances from the only film score ever to be awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music, “Louisiana Story” (1948), by Virgil Thomson; and the music that lends “Picture Perfect” its signature tune, “They Came to Cordura” (1959), by Elie Siegmeister.

It’s an hour of New York composers in Hollywood this week, on “Picture Perfect,” music for the movies, this Saturday evening at 6:00 EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.

September 3, 2022

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