Classic Ross Amico

Tag: Leonard Bernstein

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
Leonard Bernstein A Life with Not Enough Time

“To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan and not quite enough time.”

Leonard Bernstein ought to have known. He had only 72 years to become this country’s most visible, extraordinarily versatile classical musician, as a conductor, composer, pianist, Broadway luminary, educator, author, and humanitarian. (I’m sure I left something out.)

Happy birthday, Lenny. Thanks for making the most of the time you were given.

Bernstein talks Beethoven at the piano with Maximilian Schell – and ever-present cigarette

“Rhapsody in Blue” from the keyboard, with the fearless Stanley Drucker on clarinet

Bernstein conducts “Prelude, Fugue and Riffs” on “Omnibus” in 1955

Bernstein and Aaron Copland create demo record of “Fancy Free” for Jerome Robbins. Stick around for commentary at the end, with self-incriminating interjection by Copland!

Bernstein’s sensational eleventh-hour debut with the New York Philharmonic, at 25, in 1943

Bernstein’s European conducting debut, with the Czech Philharmonic in 1946

An entire playlist of Bernstein rarities!

Conducting Shostakovich in Tokyo

Conducting Haydn – with his face

Lauren Bacall sings “The Saga of Lenny,” lyrics by Stephen Sondheim (with apologies to Kurt Weill), for Bernstein’s 70th birthday celebration

Bernstein’s death reported on ABC News in 1990

Bernstein conducts his recently-composed “Candide Overture” on a televised Young People’s Concert in 1960

Bernstein conducts Mahler’s “Resurrection Symphony” as a memorial tribute, broadcast live, two days after the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963

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

Bernstein on the future of music, from one of his Harvard lectures. The answer is yes!

Bernstein celebrates the fall of the Berlin Wall with a multinational ensemble and Beethoven’s 9th

August 25, 2022
Lukas Foss A Centennial Remembrance

Today would have been the 100th birthday of Lukas Foss.

Foss was a multi-talented musician, who received considerable recognition in his lifetime, certainly, but I wonder if was as much as he deserves. Part of the problem is pinning him down. As a composer, it was always difficult to categorize him, as he drew from so many different styles. With Foss, you never knew what you were going to get. Serialism? Aleatory? Populism? Polystylism?

He was born Lukas Fuchs in Berlin in 1922. A piano prodigy, he began studies at the age of 6. In 1933, his family moved to Paris, where he also studied composition and flute. He arrived in Philadelphia in 1937. By then, the family had changed its name, and Foss entered the Curtis Institute of Music. At Curtis, he studied piano with Isabelle Vengerova, composition with Rosario Scalero, and conducting with Fritz Reiner.

Leonard Bernstein, a classmate, described him as an “authentic genius.” Bernstein would conduct first performances of several of Foss’ works. In return, Foss would conduct the premiere of Bernstein’s “West Side Story Symphonic Dances.” He also appeared as piano soloist in two recordings of Bernstein’s Symphony No. 2, “The Age of Anxiety,” both with Bernstein conducting.

In addition, he was one of four esteemed American composer-pianists on Stravinsky’s recording of “Les noces.” (The others were Aaron Copland, Samuel Barber, and Roger Sessions.)

Foss pursued further studies in conducting with Serge Koussevitzky, during summers at the Berkshire Music Center (Tanglewood), and composition with Paul Hindemith. He became an American citizen in 1942.

In 1953, he replaced Arnold Schoenberg as composition professor at UCLA. Later, in 1991, he taught at Boston University. He served as music director of the Buffalo Philharmonic (1963-70) and the Brooklyn Philharmonic (1971-88) and as conductor of the Milwaukee Symphony (1981-86).

As a young man, he was frequently categorized as one of the “Boston School” of composers. Other notable members included Bernstein, Irving Fine, Arthur Berger, Harold Shapero, Ingolf Dahl, and Louise Talma.

I met him once at a reception at the Academy of Music in Philadelphia, back in the 1980s, following a concert with the Curtis Symphony Orchestra, a student band, but one of a very high caliber. A significant number of seats in U.S. orchestras, including a disproportionate number of principal chairs, are occupied by Curtis graduates. Nearly half of the Philadelphia Orchestra is made up of Curtis alumni.

Foss hadn’t been Curtis’ first choice for this particular occasion. Bernstein was originally scheduled to appear, but this was toward the end of Bernstein’s life, and he was canceling concerts like crazy. The original program was to consist of Ives’ “Decoration Day,” Tchaikovsky’s “Francesca da Rimini,” and Sibelius’ Symphony No. 1. Sadly, when Foss took over, the Sibelius was swapped out for Brahms.

Nevertheless, it was great to have a chance to talk with him. Foss was living history, not least as friend and frequent collaborator of Bernstein, and a significant composer in his own right. Even so, in our few minutes of conversation, he impressed me as modest and low-key. Maybe it was because he had just been conducting for two hours.

I was a little awed at first and reluctant to approach him. But somebody urged me to go ahead, that he would really appreciate it. And so it proved. He had been lingering in a corner, looking a little aimless and nursing a glass of water. He seemed especially pleased that I knew his Bach record.

I first discovered Foss all the way back in the infancy of my record collecting, from a Turnabout LP on which he appeared as soloist and conductor of the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. The repertoire consisted of Bach’s Keyboard Concertos Nos. 1 & 5. Foss played them on a modern piano. To my knowledge, this has never been reissued on CD, but in my early teens, it sounded pretty good. It was probably among my first five or ten classical LPs.

Years later, I met his son at the opening of the reconstituted Charles Ives Studio at the American Academy of Arts and Letters in New York City. By then, Foss had already been gone for five years. He died in 2009 at the age of 86.

On October 3, JoAnn Falletta, music director of the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra – Foss’ former group – will honor him with a centenary concert at Carnegie Hall. The program is set to include some of his most attractive music.

https://www.carnegiehall.org/Calendar/2022/10/03/Lukas-Foss-Centennial-Celebration-0700PM

Happy birthday, Lukas Foss!

“Three American Pieces”

“Renaissance Concerto”

Bernstein conducts the premiere of Foss’ “Phorion,” including an interview with the composer. The concert is introduced by Milton Cross. The interview begins around the 13-minute mark.

Foss plays Bach in 1961 (not the same performance as on my LP)

Stravinsky’s “Les noces,” with Foss, Copland, Barber, and Sessions on pianos

An early recording of Bernstein’s “The Age of Anxiety”

In conversation with Bruce Duffie

http://www.bruceduffie.com/foss.html

Check out some additional nifty Foss photos in the comments section!

August 15, 2022
Nielsen’s Symphony 3: From Philly Summer

When I first heard Carl Nielsen’s Symphony No. 3, I was sweating it out in a one-room efficiency in West Philadelphia that I shared with two of my classmates, while making up a math course I had flubbed at Temple University.

It was the summer of ’85, there was no air conditioning, and I studied and slept in a netted hammock suspended from two bicycle hooks I had screwed into the door frames to prevent being surprised by mice. There was always movement in the lone trash bag that sat exposed on the linoleum in the corner of the kitchenette, and to prove a point once I lobbed a sneaker into it, from the safety of my resting place, so that the rodents poured out of it and scurried around the apartment, sending one of my roommates, the one whose name was on the lease, shrieking into his bunk. He had a job canvasing for a political organization, so he was gone all day and would stagger back every night after last-call to sketch with intensity under a bright, exposed lightbulb that shone down in my face. Somewhere along the way, he brought home a turtle, which he kept in the bathtub and fed raw hamburger, until I couldn’t take its imprisonment any longer and finally released it into Fairmount Park.

The other roommate had the good sense to get a girlfriend, so he was never there. His contribution was a makeshift bunk bed hastily assembled from planks he had plucked from the garbage. The top bunk was usually vacant, due to his absence, and the bottom bunk was where my politically-motivated, alcohol-fueled, musky, mulchy-footed friend slept between me and the sole window fan.

Occasionally, I’d glimpse a cockroach making its way down one of the ropes of my hammock, and I’d start rocking about, trying to dislodge it. More than once, one of the bike hooks let go. The roaches were everywhere. There were even roaches in the freezer.

It was under these circumstances, one boxed-in, sweltering afternoon, that I first experienced Carl Nielsen’s Symphony No. 3, subtitled “Sinfonia espansiva.” It was broadcast on WFLN, Philadelphia’s classical music station for nearly 50 years (sadly, now defunct). Nielsen’s aspirational music opened up horizons for me and offered glimpses of larger things.

The recording was conducted by Leonard Bernstein. For those of you who aren’t familiar with him, Carl Nielsen is Denmark’s most celebrated composer. Yet, internationally, his music has struggled to take root in the shadow of that other great bard of the North, Jean Sibelius. This is a shame, since, far from being a Sibelius knock-off, Nielsen forged his own, immediately-recognizable style. Bernstein believed Nielsen’s rightful place was as Sibelius’ equal.

“I think many people are in for pleasant surprises as they get to know Nielsen,” he said at a centennial celebration of the composer’s birth, “his rough charm, his swing, his drive, his rhythmic surprises, his strange power of harmonic and tonal relationships – and especially his constant unpredictability – all these are irresistible. I feel confident that Nielsen’s time has come.”

Hey, he was right about Mahler. But that was in 1965, and Lenny’s prophetic lightning failed to strike twice. Fifty-seven years on, with many more recordings and performances to choose from, Nielsen’s music remains, stubbornly, an acquired taste, if a rewarding one. There really is nothing else quite like it – the puckish wit, the ambiguities, the quirky juxtaposition of seemingly disparate melodies, harmonies, and key signatures, all very often shot through with a sense of hope and optimism that rises above the chaos.

I only lived in that hell hole for about a month, one summer session, thankfully, just long enough to make-up my credits, and then it was off to the greenery of my hometown to detox. But I was in the process of selling my soul for a piece of parchment, a degree, so in the fall it was back to Philadelphia.

After the purchase of my first CD-player, in order to feed my habit, I took a part-time job as a clerk at Sam Goody, a record shop then located at 11th and Chestnut Streets, which at the time had the most extensive classical music section in the city. (This was before the arrival of Tower Records.) It was there that I acquired Neeme Järvi’s Prokofiev cycle, Bernard Haitink’s Shostakovich cycle, Adrian Boult’s Vaughan Williams cycle, and my first recording of Nielsen’s Symphony No. 3. Essentially, I signed my paycheck back over to the company in exchange for CDs. I remember my frustration that so much of the good stuff was still only on LP.

The Nielsen recording was not the classic Leonard Bernstein performance I had heard on the radio – which had yet to be transferred to compact disc – but a newer, digital recording with Myung-Whun Chung and the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra, on the BIS label. And I have to say, giving all credit to Bernstein for his advocacy of Nielsen’s music, I believe Chung’s recording outshines his in every way. To this day, I find it to be one of the most satisfying Nielsen recordings. It must have been within my first ten CD purchases. I remember when I had so few, I could keep them all in a shoebox. Now I’ve got a library of a good 10,000. You might say it has gone “espansiva.”

What exactly did Nielsen mean by that choice of subtitle? Robert Simpson wrote that the use of “espansiva” suggests an “outward growth of the mind’s scope.” There is certainly a sensation of expanding horizons about the piece, which includes a pastoral slow movement complete with wordless solos for soprano and baritone. According to Nielsen, the symphony concludes with “a hymn to work and the healthy activity of living.” All I know is that it fills me with optimism and happiness.

A tip of the blond brush cut to Carl Nielsen on his birthday. Perhaps his time will come. For me, it arrived in a very different climate from that of Copenhagen, in tropical West Philadelphia, in the summer 1985.

Leonard Bernstein conducts the Royal Danish Orchestra on its own turf

Myung-Whun Chung and the Gothenburg Symphony

“Espansiva: A Portrait of Carl Nielsen”

June 9, 2022

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