Percy Grainger, composer of beloved, albeit quirky arrangements of familiar English folk songs and Morris dance tunes, was also a pioneer of “free music.” Here’s a fascinating look at the experimental machines he worked on at his home in White Plains, NY. The sounds they generate anticipated the electronic sound synthesizer.
“In 1938, Grainger wrote that he first heard ‘free music’ in his head when, as a boy in Melbourne [Australia], he watched the sea at Brighton and Albert Park. He could never see why, in a scientific age, music shouldn’t be as free and as infinitely variable as the waves.”
The first programmable electronic sound synthesizer, the RCA Mark II (nicknamed Victor), an instrument of heroic dimensions, was developed by American acoustical engineers Harry Olson and Herbert Belar in 1955, at the Radio Corporation of America (RCA) laboratories in Princeton, NJ. It was installed at the legendary Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center at Columbia University in 1957. Controlled by punch cards and employing hundreds of vacuum tubes, the interconnected components filled an entire room.
Gain a greater appreciation for the amount of sweat that went into synthesized composition prior to the invention of the Moog!
PHOTO: Grainger (right) with Burnett Cross, standing before one of his “free music” machines, in 1951
When they were handing out looney, they must have found themselves with an overabundance when it came to July 8.
Today marks the birthday anniversaries of two of music’s wackiest pianist-composers.
George Antheil, self-proclaimed “Bad Boy of Music,” was born in Trenton, NJ, on this date in 1900. His “Ballet Mécanique,” scored for synchronized player pianos, airplane propellers, siren and electric bells, inspired one of the great classical music riots at its Paris premiere in 1926.
Antheil would practice the piano with such ferocity that he would have to pause, periodically, to thrust his hands into two fish bowls filled with ice water. Before the start of a recital, he would remove a pistol from a silk holster sewn into his jacket and place it atop the piano, to telegraph the message that he would brook no nonsense.
Later, he became a Hollywood film composer, a war correspondent, the author of a column of advice to the lovelorn, an expert in endocrinology, and co-inventor, with actress Hedy Lamarr, of a frequency-hopping system for the guidance of Allied torpedoes that would become the basis for modern spread-spectrum communications technology. Neither Antheil nor Lamarr would ever see a dime for their invention.
In 1944, he scored a notable success with his Symphony No. 4, after it was taken up by Leopold Stokowski and later Sir Eugene Goossens, who recorded it. Antheil was also the author of a bestselling autobiography, “Bad Boy of Music.” He died of a heart attack at the age of 59. A third recorded cycle of his symphonies is currently underway, on the Chandos label. Not bad for a boy from Trenton.
Wouldn’t you know, Percy Aldridge Grainger was also born on this date, outside Melbourne, Australia, in 1882. Another one of classical music’s great eccentrics, Grainger was obsessed with physical fitness. Rather than drive or take the train between towns and recitals, it was his preference to jog. He was also known to throw a ball over one side of a house, and then race around to the other side to catch it.
Enamored with Nordic culture, he went out of his way to use only Anglo-Saxon words, avoiding in his letters anything of Norman or Latin origin. This extended to his scores, in which he eschewed Italian musical terms in favor of their English equivalents. In 1928, he married Ella Ström, from Sweden, during a concert at the Hollywood Bowl. On the program was his new work, “To a Nordic Princess.”
Lest his cultural quirks be misconstrued in an increasingly black-and-white world, Grainger’s embrace of “blue-eyed English” was as idiosyncratic as everything else in his character. He bristled against the dominance of German music, he served in the U.S. Army against Germany in WWI, he embraced music from a wide diversity of cultures, all the way to Bali, he championed works by African-Canadian-American composer R. Nathaniel Dett, and he adored Duke Ellington and George Gershwin.
Grainger was unusually close to his mother and exhibited sadomasochistic tendencies. He donated whips and blood-stained clothes to the Grainger Museum, which he founded in 1932. His request to have his skeleton displayed – posthumously, of course – was denied.
Later, while living in White Plains, NY, he experimented with electronics and “machine music,” in a sense paralleling an obsession of Antheil, who besides “Ballet Mécanique,” wrote such works as “Airplane Sonata” and “Death of Machines.”
Sadly, only the tiniest portion of Grainger’s output is known by the general public, and he is celebrated as the composer of such folksy trifles as “Country Gardens,” “Molly on the Shore,” and “Shepherd’s Hey.” But Grainger’s treatment of harmony and rhythm could be highly original. He was a brilliant musician, and wholly unconventional in more ways than one.
Grainger died in White Plains in 1961 at the age of 78. His remains, including his skeleton, rest in Adelaide.
Happy birthday, you wacky, wacky boys.
Grainger, “Scotch Strathspey and Reel”
Grainger orchestration of Debussy’s “Pagodes”
His imaginary ballet, “The Warriors”
Grainger plays “Molly on the Shore”
Antheil, “Ballet Mécanique” – presumably in its revision, because of the use of live pianists – with the annoying Fernand Léger film
Antheil, “Jazz Symphony”
Antheil, Symphony No. 4 “1942”
Antheil, “Specter of the Rose” (from the film score, 1946)
PHOTOS: Bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Percy Grainger (left) and Trenton’s own George Antheil.
The loose collective known as “The Frankfurt Gang” came together in 1890s, as students at the Hoch Conservatory in Frankfurt-am-Main. Its members included Balfour Gardiner, Roger Quilter, Norman O’Neill, Cyril Scott, and the youngest of the bunch, the piano prodigy Percy Grainger. This brilliant array of talent bonded in a foreign land, united by a shared language and culture, but also a determination to break away from Teutonic dominance in music, with the goal of creating a fresh “English” art.
This Sunday night on “The Lost Chord,” we’ll have music by four of these firebrands, including Gardiner’s “Overture to a Comedy,” Quilter’s “Where the Rainbow Ends,” Scott’s “Neptune” (refashioned from an earlier work inspired by the sinking of the Titanic), and one of Grainger’s choral settings of a text from Kipling’s “Jungle Book.”
The Hoch Conservatory of the day had the reputation of being one of the very finest in Europe. Clara Schumann had been on the faculty there until 1892 – within a few years of the Frankfurt Group’s arrival. In fact, at least one of them was there before Schumann’s departure.
Scott arrived at the school early, at the age of 12, and then later returned for a second stint. Gardiner was also there twice, taking a break to attend Oxford. Grainger was 13 at the time he was admitted. He was to remain at the Hoch Conservatory for four-and-a-half years.
Frankfurt alumni aim for the high notes this week. I hope you’ll join me for “Hochschule Musical,” this Sunday night at 10:00 EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and at wwfm.org.
Hochschule reunion: (left to right) Grainger, Scott, and Quilter
It’s got have something to do with that Buck Moon.
July 8 marks the birthdays of two of music’s looniest pianist-composers.
George Antheil, self-proclaimed “Bad Boy of Music,” was born in Trenton on this date in 1900. Antheil’s “Ballet Mécanique,” scored for player pianos, airplane propellers, siren and electric bells, inspired one of the great classical music riots at its Paris premiere in 1926.
Antheil would practice the piano with such ferocity that he would have to pause, periodically, to thrust his hands into two fish bowls filled with ice water. Before commencing a recital, he would remove a pistol from a silk holster sewn into his jacket and ostentatiously place it atop the piano, to send a message that he would brook no nonsense.
Later, he became a Hollywood film composer, a war correspondent, the author of a column of advice to the lovelorn, an expert in endocrinology, and co-inventor, with actress Hedy Lamarr, of a frequency-hopping system for the guidance of Allied torpedoes that would become the basis for modern spread-spectrum communications technology.
In 1944, he scored a notable success with his Symphony No. 4, after it was taken up by Leopold Stokowski and later Sir Eugene Goossens, who recorded it. Antheil was also the author of a bestselling autobiography, “Bad Boy of Music.” He died of a heart attack at the age of 59. A third recorded cycle of his symphonies is currently underway, on the Chandos label. Not bad for a boy from Trenton.
Wouldn’t you know, Percy Aldridge Grainger was also born on this date, outside Melbourne, Australia, in 1882. Grainger, one of classical music’s great eccentrics, was an outstanding pianist and an innovative composer, who also happened to be obsessed with physical fitness. Rather than drive or take the train between towns and engagements, it was his preference to jog. He was also known to throw a ball over one side of a house, and then race around the other side to catch it.
Enamored with Nordic culture, he went out of his way to use only Anglo-Saxon words, avoiding in his letters anything of Norman or Latin origin. However, the dominance of German music rankled him, and he loved Duke Ellington.
He was unusually close to his mother and exhibited sadomasochistic tendencies. He donated whips and blood-stained clothes to the Grainger Museum, which he founded in 1932. (His request to have his skeleton displayed – posthumously, of course – was denied.)
Later, while living in White Plains, NY, he experimented with electronics and “machine music,” in a sense paralleling an obsession of Antheil, who besides “Ballet Mécanique,” wrote such works as “Airplane Sonata” and “Death of Machines.”
Sadly, only the tiniest portion of Grainger’s output is known by the general public, and he is celebrated as the composer of such folksy trifles as “Country Gardens,” “Molly on the Shore,” and “Shepherd’s Hey.” But Grainger’s treatment of harmony and rhythm could be highly original. He was a brilliant musician, and wholly unconventional in more ways than one.
Grainger died in White Plains in 1961 at the age of 78. His remains, including his skeleton, rest in Adelaide.
Antheil and Grainger. What are the odds? Blame it on that old devil moon.
Two peas in a pod: George Antheil, smoking, and Percy Grainger, smoking hot, in self-designed “toweling clothes”
Join me this afternoon on The Classical Network as we pile gifts at the feet of original Trenton cracker George Antheil (1900-1959), self-proclaimed “Bad Boy of Music.” Antheil’s “Ballet Mécanique,” scored for player pianos, airplane propellers, siren and electric bells, inspired one of classical music’s great riots at its Paris premiere in 1926.
Antheil would practice the piano with such ferocity that he would have to pause periodically to thrust his hands into two fish bowls filled with ice water. Before commencing a recital, he would ostentatiously remove a pistol from a silk holster in his jacket and place it atop the piano to send a message that he would brook no nonsense.
Later, he became a Hollywood film composer, a war correspondent, the author of a column of advice to the lovelorn, an expert in endocrinology, and co-inventor, with actress Hedy Lamarr, of a frequency-hopping system for the guidance of Allied torpedoes that would become the basis for modern spread-spectrum communications technology.
Wouldn’t you know it, it’s also the birthday today of another of music’s great eccentrics, Percy Aldridge Grainger (1882-1961).
Grainger, born outside Melbourne, Australia, was an outstanding pianist and an innovative composer. He also happened to be obsessed with physical fitness. Rather than drive or take the train between towns and engagements, he preferred to jog. He was also known to throw a ball over one side of a house, and then race around the other side to catch it.
Enamored of Nordic culture, he went out of his way to use only Anglo-Saxon words, avoiding in his letters anything of Norman or Latin origin. However, the dominance of German music rankled him, and he loved Duke Ellington.
He was unusually close to his mother and developed sadomasochistic tendencies. He donated whips and blood-stained clothes to the Grainger Museum, which he founded in 1932. (His request to have his skeleton displayed – posthumously, of course – was denied.)
Later, while living in White Plains, NY, he experimented with electronics and “machine music,” in a sense paralleling an obsession of Antheil, who besides “Ballet Mécanique,” wrote such works as “Airplane Sonata” and “Death of Machines.”
Sadly, only the smallest portion of Grainger’s output is known by the general public, and he is celebrated as the composer of such trifles as “Country Gardens,” “Molly on the Shore,” and “Shepherd’s Hey.” But Grainger’s treatment of harmony and rhythm could be highly original. He was a brilliant musician, and wholly unconventional in more ways than one.
Join me this afternoon for music by Antheil and Grainger. We’ll also remember Pulitzer Prize winner Michael Colgrass, who died on July 2 at the age of 87, with a selection from Boston Modern Orchestra Project (BMOP)’s new release “Michael Colgrass: Side by Side.” In addition, we’ll sample from the album “Gentle Winds” (issued on PARMA Recordings’ classical music imprint Navona Records), featuring music by Hopewell composer Samuel A. Livingston.
Livingston is a clarinetist in The Blawenburg Band. The rain is expected to move out of the Princeton area by this afternoon, which means the first of the band’s summer lawn chair concerts should take place as scheduled at Hopewell Train Station tonight at 7:30 p.m. Tomorrow, Livingston will perform with the Blawenburg Dixieland Band at Mary Jacobs Memorial Library in Rocky Hill, from 6:30 to 8:15 p.m.
I’ll be spinning the discs, rain or shine, today from 4 to 7 p.m. EDT, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.
Two peas in a pod: George Antheil, smoking, and Percy Grainger, smoking hot, in self-designed “toweling clothes”
