I am so very sorry to learn of the death of soprano Benita Valente. Valente, who only just turned 91 on October 19, died at her home in Philadelphia yesterday.
Despite her unfailingly pure sound, no one could ever accuse her of lacking versatility. She was praised for her Mozart heroines. Over the course of her career, she sang Pamina 200 times, including at the Metropolitan Opera, belatedly (she’d already sung the role for some 20 years), beginning in 1973. She also impressed with her Gilda in Verdi’s “Rigoletto,” her Violetta in Verdi’s “La traviata,” and her Mimi in Puccini’s “La bohème.”
But her voice was also ideally suited to Bach cantatas and lieder recitals encompassing a broad swath of the repertoire, including songs of Schubert, Schumann, and Wolf.
She received a Grammy Award for her recording of Arnold Schoenberg’s String Quartet No. 2 and was nominated for her recording of Haydn’s “Seven Last Words of Christ,” both with the Juilliard String Quartet.
Composers who wrote music specifically for her include William Bolcom, Alberto Ginastera, John Harbison, Libby Larsen, and Richard Wernick.
I was lucky to have heard her sing Handel’s Ginevra opposite Tatiana Troyanos’ Ariodante with the Opera Company of Philadelphia in 1989. It seemed the two singers were pretty much joined at the hip during that period.
But of course, it is in the classic recording of Schubert’s “The Shepherd on the Rock,” with clarinetist Harold Wright and pianist Rudolf Serkin, that she had really touched my heart.
She was married to Anthony Checchia, founding artistic director of the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society and administrator for the Marlboro Music Festival, who died last year at the age of 94.
Valente was so much a musical presence – and a source of Philadelphia pride for so long – that her passing is inconceivable.
R.I.P.
Schubert, “The Shepherd on the Rock”
Brahms, “Liebeslieder Waltzes,” with alto Marlena Kleinman, tenor (later beloved radio host) Wayne Conner, bass (also Valente’s teacher) Martial Sigher, and pianists Serkin and Leon Fleisher
Handel, “Lascia ch’io pianga” from “Rinaldo”
Handel, “Radamisto”
PHOTO: Valente (front left) with Tatiana Troyanos in “Ariodante” at Santa Fe Opera in 1987
In my early days in classical radio, I was advised that in pronouncing Rodion Shchedrin’s last name, the “shch” should be said as in “freSH CHeese” (i.e. “SH-CHedrin”). His obituary writer in today’s New York Times begs to differ, using the phonetic “shu-deh-REEN.”
However you say it, Shchedrin, who has died at the age of 92, was perhaps the most successful composer in Russia during the late and post-Soviet eras – an indefatigable creator of concert works, chamber, instrumental, and vocal music, opera, film scores, and ballets. (He was married to Bolshoi prima ballerina and choreographer Maya Plisetskaya.)
And he managed it all without having joined the Communist Party. He took pride in the fact that no one in his family ever had. He was warned by the authorities not to become involved with Plisetskaya, whose parents had been labeled dissidents. (Her father was executed on Stalin’s orders and her mother exiled to Siberia.) But he went ahead and married her anyway. The couple lived under constant surveillance.
Nevertheless, despite official impediments, they managed gradually to attain recognition at the top of their respective fields. Shchedrin’s status earned him the post of chairman of the Composers Union of the Russian Federation, which he held from 1973 to 1990.
His international reputation was enhanced during the era of perestroika. Following the collapse of the USSR, he and his wife lived mostly in Munich. Despite the hardships they had endured under the Soviet regime (he himself admitted they were among the luckier ones), he expressed gratitude to have been born in Russia to pursue music.
I first encountered Shchedrin’s best-known work, the “Carmen Suite” (1967) – an audacious reimagining of Bizet’s famous themes for strings and percussion – in 1992, on a concert of the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Erich Leinsdorf. In 2021, the work was revived in Philadelphia with fresh (cheese?) choreography by Brian Sanders, performed by JUNK.
I suppose it is possible I had already heard it over the radio at some point, as a listener, but hearing it live really made an impression. I was happy to be able to hear it again at the Princeton Festival in 2022.
Shchedrin also wrote a series of concertos for orchestra. The most notorious of these is called “Naughty Limericks” (1963). (The naughty Shchedrin once slashed the hand of one of his conservatory classmates with a razor!) My favorite is the Concerto for Orchestra No. 3 (1989), subtitled “Old Russian Circus Music.”
The liturgical work “The Sealed Angel” (1988), for choir and flute, is based on a story by Nikolay Leskov. The plot concerns a rural community which protects a religious icon that has been confiscated by officials and sealed with wax. Shchedrin’s grandfather was an orthodox priest.
Here’s a nifty video of Shchedrin playing Rachmaninoff with Evgeny Kissin and Daniil Trifanov – piano six-hands!
Shchedrin was born on December 16, Beethoven’s birthday. I spare a thought for him every year, when the Master from Bonn sucks all the air out of the room.
R.I.P. Rodion Shchedrin.
PHOTO: The composer with his wife, Bolshoi ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, for whom he frequently composed. (The “Carmen Suite” was written for her.) Plisetskaya died in 2015 at the age of 89.
Harler served as music director of Mendelssohn Club of Philadelphia from 1988 to 2015. (The group, founded in 1874, was rebranded Mendelssohn Chorus of Philadelphia in 2020.) Harler was named the organization’s artistic director in 2009. For 30 years, he also served as Chairman of Choral Music at Temple University’s Esther Boyer College of Music.
He commissioned and gave first performances of more than 50 new works, including Charles Fussell’s “High Bridge,” Jennifer Higdon’s “On the Death of the Righteous,” David Lang’s “battle hymns,” Pauline Oliveros’ “Urban Echo: Circle Told,” Roberto Sierra’s “Lux æterna,” and Julia Wolfe’s “Anthracite Fields” (recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2015). He recorded Robert Moran’s “Requiem: Chant du Cygne” for London/Argo Records and gave the first performance of the composer’s 9/11 memorial “Trinity Requiem” in an expanded version for full chorus (the work was originally conceived for children).
Harler was also founder and director of the Contemporary Vocal Ensemble of Indiana. He prepared choruses for a number of the world’s foremost conductors, including Riccardo Muti, Klaus Tennstedt, Charles Dutoit, Zubin Mehta, Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, Lorin Maazel, David Robertson, and Wolfgang Sawallisch.
I met him several times over the years and interviewed him on the air at least once, in connection with a broadcast of “Trinity Requiem.” Also on the program, which took place at Philadelphia’s Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul on Logan Square, was Bruckner’s Mass No. 2 in E minor, and a new Moran commission, “Angele Dei.”
I received the news of his passing in my inbox on Friday, but I am only just getting around to sharing it on account of a busy weekend. Bad news does occasionally travel slow in the world of Classic Ross Amico.
Harler was 85-years-old. R.I.P.
The press release follows.
Dear Mendelssohn Chorus Family,
It is with profound sadness that we share the news that our beloved Conductor Laureate and former Artistic Director, Alan Harler, passed away peacefully in his sleep early yesterday morning. Our thoughts and prayers are with his partner of 38 years, Chuck Kalick, his extended family, and all who loved him during this difficult time.
A Transformative Leader
Alan’s artistic leadership was transformative not only to our 151-year-old organization, which he led from 1988-2015, but to the entire field of choral music. When he joined Mendelssohn Chorus as our twelfth Music Director in 1988, our organization was experiencing a difficult transitional period both artistically and fiscally. Under Alan’s visionary leadership, we not only regained our footing but evolved into a thriving, relevant, and innovative force in Philadelphia’s cultural fabric.
His vision was so compelling that after operating as a volunteer-run organization for 135 years, we were able to create our first professional board and grow our systems to support our first full-time Executive Director in 2009, with Alan serving as Artistic Director.
A Pioneer in New Music
Alan was a pioneer ahead of his time, committed to new music throughout his entire career. His approach wasn’t simply novelty for novelty’s sake—in his own words: “Inviting or even gently pulling people out of their 21st century comfort zones is the first step in preparing them to experience music and the human voice at the deepest level.”
During his tenure with us, he commissioned and premiered 58 new compositions, including Julia Wolfe’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Anthracite Fields, David Lang’s battle hymns, Jennifer Higdon’s On the Death of the Righteous, and Pauline Oliveros’s Urban Echo: Circle Told. He pushed audiences and singers alike through cross-genre performances through an innovative partnership with the Leah Stein Dance Company. These performances integrated artistic elements such as dance, ensemble choreography, projections, and even audience movement into our performances to create a fully immersive experience.
Those groundbreaking works established Mendelssohn Chorus as a vital force for living composers and earned us the 2013 Chorus America/ASCAP Award for Adventurous Programming.
Scholar and Advocate
While Alan championed new works, he was equally a scholar and advocate of the choral greats of the past. His dedication to understanding musical traditions led him to travel to Oxford, England, to examine and study Mendelssohn’s original score of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion. This research culminated in our presenting the North American premiere of Mendelssohn’s edition of Bach’s masterwork in 2015—a fitting capstone to Alan’s extraordinary tenure.
Educator and Mentor
Alan’s influence extended far beyond our chorus through his distinguished 30-year career at Temple University, where he served as Laura Carnell Professor of Choral Music and Director of Choral Activities. As one colleague noted, Alan was “a remarkable diagnostician with generosity and razor sharp analysis.” Even after retirement, he continued inspiring rising conductors through our Conducting Apprenticeship Program, mentoring dozens of conductors who now carry his legacy around the world.
A Humble Virtuoso
In a world where many artists are known for forceful egos, Alan possessed remarkable humility. As one reviewer wrote, “Alan Harler is a musician serving music by serving other musicians and the music-loving public.” Composer Roberto Sierra captured Alan’s essence perfectly: “In my life as a composer I have not met many artists like Alan, those who are at the zenith of their art, but that also are extraordinary human beings. It is precisely this combination that gives force to his artistic expression.”
A Living Legacy
The Alan Harler New Ventures Fund, established by our chorus family to honor his vision, ensures that his commitment to fostering contemporary, original, and groundbreaking works will continue in perpetuity. His belief in taking artistic risks and his passion for pushing boundaries will forever be part of our DNA.
Alan truly personified the mission “to build a dynamic and inclusive choral community so that more people are transformed by the beauty and power of choral singing.” There must be thousands of people who have been touched by Alan’s music and his humanity together.
We will share information about memorial arrangements as they become available. In the meantime, we invite you to watch the loving tribute below, created to honor Alan upon his retirement in 2015.
His legacy lives on in every commission we premiere, every aspiring conductor we mentor, and every voice that joins our chorus family.
With deepest gratitude for Alan’s immeasurable contributions,
Dominick DiOrio, Artistic Director
Flo Gardner, Executive Director
Julie Cohen, Board Chair
Mendelssohn Chorus tribute video
Harler and Mendelssohn Club perform Robert Moran’s “Requiem: Chant du Cygne”
This Finnish conductor of Falstaffian dimensions was a characterful interpreter of the works of Jean Sibelius, Carl Nielsen, Allan Pettersson, Einojuhani Rautavaara, and other composers perhaps further afield. He served, at various times, as artistic director/chief conductor of the Stockholm Royal Opera, the Helsinki Philharmonic, the Danish National Radio Symphony, and the Savonlinna Opera Festival.
He was also a violinist, a pianist, and a composer. If, by chance, he ever found himself with extra time on his hands, he would simply churn out a symphony. By the time of his death he had composed 371 of them. (That is not a typo.) He also wrote 30 string quartets, 13 violin concertos, 8 cello concertos, 4 viola concertos, and 4 piano concertos.
Although he could hardly be said ever to have been a model of fitness, I am shocked to see him go. He always seemed to be inextinguishable, the very embodiment of Joulupukki, the Finnish Santa Claus, which he so strongly resembled.
The name Leif is of Scandinavian origin and is associated with the Viking Age. What are the odds that this most vibrant and eccentric of Nordic conductors would die on Leif Erikson Day?
Segerstam was 80 years-old. The man was a beast. R.I.P.
Segerstam conducts Sibelius’ Symphony No. 5
Just try to forget this “Scheherazade,” with its highly unconventional, piratical conclusion
Cutting to the chase
Rautavaara’s “On the Last Frontier,” after Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym,” with Rautavaara in attendance
Yesterday, though I labored heroically against the effects of Guinness and corned beef and cabbage, before I knew it, it was time to watch “The Quiet Man.” And as a result, I’m now the last person on the internet to report on the death of Byron Janis.
Janis, one-time Horowitz pupil, dynamo of the keyboard, who played through excruciating pain due to arthritis, forced to retire because of the effects of surgery, only to rise again, died on Thursday at the age of 95.
Van Cliburn received all the glory – and a ticker tape parade on Broadway – for his surprise victory at the first Tchaikovsky International Piano Competition in Moscow in 1958, but Janis was just as important, as a cultural ambassador to the Soviet Union at the height of the Cold War. His first recital there took place just after the Soviets had shot down the U-2 spy plane and Gary Powers was imprisoned. According to Janis, the hostility in the hall was palpable with no applause and the audience chanting, “U-2! U-2! U-2!” But by intermission, they were on their feet applauding and afterwards, people approached the stage with tears in their eyes. “… What I did was important because it showed how music could change people’s feelings,” Janis observed in a 2017 interview with Vantage Music.
Cliburn’s shadow extended to the recording studio, in terms of which concertos his rivals were permitted to record and when. Of course, this was still in the early days of stereo, with every pianist eager to test their mettle against the standard repertoire, and the major labels all vying for a place of honor on America’s hi-fi systems.
What’s astonishing is how many truly spectacular American pianists emerged at the time: off the top of my head, in addition to Cliburn and Janis, there were Leon Fleisher, Gary Graffman, John Browning, Eugene Istomin, Julius Katchen, Abbey Simon, Leonard Pennario. And that’s to say nothing of the international competition. A veritable embarrassment of virtuoso riches!
In his prime, Janis possessed the jaw-dropping technique of an idiosyncratic fire-eater. But this was harnessed to an unerring sense of lyricism and line. His recordings from the 1950s and ‘60s, especially, are thrilling in their spontaneity.
“A lot of young pianists work about eight hours a day on their technique, but they lose their sense of music – their musicality disappears because they are so focused on playing the right notes,” Janis observed, in that same interview with Vantage Music. “Musically, if it’s always the same, it’s not ‘perfect.’ If it isn’t different every time, you aren’t human, and these composers were very human. Chopin changed things all the time. The danger is, with too much freedom, people begin to do anything with it, good or bad. But ‘perfection’ is a dead state.”
His struggles with arthritis and its treatment sent him into retirement and depression for a few years, but he clawed his way back to the concert stage to mark the 50th anniversary of his debut at Carnegie Hall in 1998.
In 1967, Janis identified some lost Chopin manuscripts. And he did so again, in 1973 – the same pieces, in different versions, on two separate continents!
Interestingly, he was also a songwriter who wooed Gary Cooper’s daughter.
At whatever stage of his career, Janis demonstrated, time and again, a remarkable intuition when it came to teasing notes on a page into sustained passages of brilliance and even grandeur. His performances, as his life, defied many obstacles to reveal unanticipated vistas.
