Ravel - Introduction et allegro, for harp, flute, clarinet, and string quartet (1905)

At the turn of the century, two different harp manufacturers developed different mechanics for allowing the harp to carry a more chromatic range. Debussy and Ravel were the two ‘stars’ of French music, and so the companies reached out to them to write music to display their respected harps capabilities. Pleyel commissioned Debussy to write music for their chromatic harp, and Érard commissioned Ravel to write for their pedal harp. This relatively dull backstory helped to produce one of the most beautiful works of chamber music in history. It’s also an unusual work because of the unique ensemble, which in a way is looking forward to contemporary music [writing for small chamber ensembles of unique combinations is much cheaper than a full orchestra, and you can still get the benefits of contrasting sonorities]. But by putting the sound of the plucked harp against winds and strings, Ravel uses their contrast to highlight each other. Also, because it is a display piece for the harp, the harpist acts almost like a concerto soloist, taking over the main melody, filling the music with decorations, and even getting its own cadenza. It opens with the first main melody, played in the winds, a slow drawl wavering in the air, kind of mysterious. Then the second main melody comes in on the strings, very simple, bare, but surprisingly moving. Four notes falling, then rising up. Then the melancholy tune introduces the harp’s glissandos. Then the instruments trade melodies, the strings play the mystery motif and the winds play the melancholy one. This dreamy opening shifts into a gloriously orchestrated passage of fluttering winds over a melody in the cello, creating such a luscious sound from a small ensemble. This bleeds into the Allegro, opening with the harp playing a new main melody, modal and soft, with complicated figuration around it. For the rest of the work, the three melodies come back again and again, with different colors and harmonies. There is a great passage that makes use of the strings plucking, complimenting the harp. Then, a polyphonic section where the harp plays the ‘melancholy’ melody over the string’s ‘mysterious’ melody. The first harp cadenza is intense, and unlike previous flute writing, the notes are deliberate, not just decoration. The music continues to build up to intensity, until the harp’s “official” cadenza, which opens with a Beethoven-like dramatic scale, then bringing back the melancholy melody that here sounds so stark and haunting. When the rest of the ensemble comes back, they play a happier re-write of the melancholy theme, and the ending has a more cheerful pastorale mood. The work is dreamlike, and it’s amazing to hear how much emotion is concentrated into such a short time. Unfortunately, the unique ensemble makes it rare to play in concert, and that’s a shame because this is one of Ravel’s most beautiful treasures.

33/365 - Pianist // Poster Everyday

ok I know this is just a painting & Romantic representation always makes the past glitter more than it was but still would love to see what an opera was like back then, esp. since I looked up the year just now and see that Massenet's Le roi de Lahore premiered in 1877, that would have been a spectacle

Garnier Opera House, Paris - The Grand Staircase, 1877 by Louis Béroud (French, 1852–1930)

probably shouldn't perpetuate stereotypes but it's been raining here and I've been in the mood to listen to dark, minor key organ music that makes me think of old castles, cathedrals, and black and white horror movies. So far, I only have Bach and his German inspirations & some descendants

Ravel - Miroirs (1905)

Les Apaches were a group of vogue modernist artists that came together at the beginning of the 20th century. They took after old French slang for ‘hooligans’, because the member who came up with the term, pianist Ricardo Viñes, considered them to be outsiders in the art world. They stuck together to help promote and defend each others’ works against critics and the public. Stravinsky and Ravel were the most famous members, alongside the prominent composers Manuel de Falla and Florent Schmitt. Ravel had joined along with Viñes who had become his best friend, and they were enamored by the musical ideas Debussy had pushed forward. Ravel wrote this suite, Mirrors, as a little gift to his Apaches friends, dedicating one movement for each of them. It opens with “Moths”, depicting fluttering wings in the night. The music here has a fleeting rush to it, and its shadowy nocturnal ‘wisp’ textures are like a precursor to Gaspard de la Nuit. The second movement, Sad Birds, opens with the titular bird calling in the middle of a desolate wood. The longer it sings, the more birds join it, again the atmosphere is darkened, but instead of nighttime it is the pain of sadness. More piano effects muddy the textures a bit, but the birdsong comes through clear each time. The third piece, A Boat in the Ocean, is brighter with its arpeggios depicting the waves, and a soft melody creating a nostalgic atmosphere. It isn’t an intense storm or anything overwritten, rather it’s the subtle and more realistic portrayal of the restless waves where the notes are constantly mixing together and reacting off of each other. The gorgeous opening melodies comes in and out of the waves until the music drifts away. The next movement, the Jester’s Aubade, is the most lively and joyous of the set. Like his earlier Pavane for a Dead Princess, this Aubade calls back to Ravel’s impression of medieval life, and here we can think of a jester, an acrobat or comedian, trying to get smiles on the faces of passerby with his morning song and dance. It is an intensely difficult piece with hyperactive repeating notes, and the harmonies and textures feel very Spanish, especially when the repeating notes seem to act like guitars and castanets. The last movement, Valley of Bells, opens with said bell chimes, first by themselves, then over a small carillon like accompaniment. The ringing of the bells start to cause dissonance as Ravel explores the sound world of the piano’s sustained notes. We get darkened bell chimes and chords through hazy harmonies. I find it interesting that Ravel named this ‘mirrors’, because whatever his intentions were, it doesn’t feel like a clear reflection of anything. Like with other Impressionist works, the reflections in this case are not clear, they are somewhat distorted and evocative. Maybe that’s the point, that this is a personal reflection and interpretation instead of anything specific? Through this lens, everything becomes a dream. The moths, the birdsong, the ocean waves, the jester, and finally the bell-valley that sounds like a musical version of a Dalí painting. Whatever the reason, it is easy to daydream to this kind of music.

Movements:

1. Noctuelles (to Léon-Paul Fargue)

2. Oiseaux tristes (to Ricardo Viñes)

3. Une barque sur l’océan (to Paul Sordes)

4. Alborada del gracioso (to Michel-Dimitri Calvocoressi)

5. La vallée des cloches (to Maurice Delage)

Henri Marteau (1874−1934)

Good morning everyone!

classical morning playlist

been putting together some favorites to start the day with. what would you add to this list?

Re-watched Amadeus (1984) yesterday with my roommate who I"m trying to indoctrinate into classical music. He wasn't a big fan of Mozart which is disappointing. I listened to this opera again at full volume in the shower and in the car lol

Mozart - Die Entführung aus dem Serail (1782)

Too often I notice people talking about Mozart’s timelessness as if he is above criticisms of content in his music. I’ve noticed the same trend happen to Shakespeare, where people call him great but don’t say why or how, and instead hold him on a pedestal of “he’s great just because” which means you can’t point out problematic aspects of his plays. To treat an artist this way is to disrespect them by treating them as a wax statue that’s a placeholder for “greatness” instead of treating them like individual human beings. I say all this because one of my favorite operas by Mozart is also one of his most dated. “The Abduction from the Seraglio” is an Orientalist vaudeville of an opera, written to get the praise of the audience who, despite their higher class status (including Emperor Joseph II) were not above the guilty pleasures of the time. The opera was the product of the Emperor’s desire to produce German language operas to compete with the popularity of Italian opera in Vienna. The youngish Mozart, 25, jumped at the chance to keep his name big in the city. At the time in Vienna, Turkish culture and products were fashionable, so Mozart chose to adapt the libretto taking place in Turkey to increase popularity. The result is twofold. Musically, the orchestra often acts as a Westernized interpretation of Turkish music, especially when trying to evoke the sounds of Janessary bands. The writing is spectacular and full of bombastic and fun orchestra flourishes, choruses, and arias full of fireworks (especially the arias written to showcase Caterina Cavalieri’s virtuosity). The downside however is the Orientalist stereotyping of the plot and undoubtedly the sets and costuming. The Harem featured in the plot is not an accurate depiction, instead it is another Western male sexual fantasy. The character, overseer Osmin, was more of a charicature against Turkish authorities (and if only a ‘better’ government could rule). The best thing that could be said is that the opera’s happy ending goes against expectations by having the Turkish characters act with kindness, which was not the stereotype of Turkish authority. It is an interesting opera, both being lighthearted but also acting as a portrait into 18th century Austrian culture, and depictions of “Turkey” through the Orientalist European eye. And the music shows Mozart at his most populist. While it doesn’t have the deep characterization and forward momentum of his later mature operas, the music is still fun and engaging and flashy, like a popular musical would be today. The overture, Janessary’s chorus, and choral finale all include imitation-Janessary percussion and brass. The two arias in the middle of the opera, back to back, give the leading soprano twenty minutes of music to sing, the first half is mournful and slower paced, the second is optimistic and ending with a rush of scales.

Highlights:

Overture

Janessary’s Chorus [25:58]

Aria (Konstanze) “Traurigkeit ward mir zum Lose” [43:14]

Aria (Konstanze) “Martern aller Arten” [50:40]

Aria (Pedrillo) “Frisch zum Kampfe” [1:03:26]

Duett (Pedrillo, Osmin) Vivat Bacchus! [1:06:25]

Quartett (Konstanze, Belmonte, Pedrillo, Blonde) Ach, Belmonte, ach [1:15:26]

Vaudeville & Chor (All) Nie werd’ ich solche Huld verkennen [1:47:55]

A personal "underrated" fav of mine. Underrated because organ music is kinda niche especially beyond Bach or popular wedding classics. The big symphonic piece is exactly what it promises; big, symphonic. I love the ending fanfare so much, even though it'll never happen I can. easily imagine it being the soundtrack to the end of a superhero film

Franck - Grand Pièce Symphonique

After the Baroque era, the organ fell a bit out of favor. Aside from a few miscellaneous works in the classical era, no one really came forward as a great “organ composer” after Bach. But that changed with new advancements in instrument making. New organs were being designed or remodeled with a larger variety in dynamics and playing capabilities, which inspired composers to bright life back into the instrument. The most notable were Felix Mendelssohn, Liszt, and Franck. In 1859, one of the master organ builders of the century, Aristide Cavaillé-Coll had built an organ in Saint-Clotilde Basilica in Paris. Cavaillé-Coll’s innovations in sound included pipes that mimicked orchestral instruments. Instead of something more dry and a bit archaic, these organs had more fire and emotional range. So when Franck was appointed organist for the Basilica after the instrument’s completion, it isn’t a surprise that he was inspired to come back to composing. He wrote a set of six contrasting works that make use of the organ’s possibilities, and of all six, the Grand Pièce Symphonique [published second] is the most experimental. The pacing is a bit unusual, a “multiple movements in one” free form fantasy that takes maybe four main melodies and transforms them through the work. While the writing is well crafted, the pacing is a bit awkward and it definitely feels more like an improvisation. But that does nothing to hold back the sheer grandeur of the work. It opens with a soft, anxious walking theme that is more of transitional “filler” than anything, but it sets up the expectations for something larger to break out, like a bear slowly waking up. It develops a bit, slowly mutating into the major and giving a brighter choral. This is disrupted by punching growls which introduces the first main theme. Almost like a march. This theme is woven around a polyphonic river, tossing and turning until it finds a steady rhythmic bounce to play over. That weathers down into a more steady but constantly moving choral passage, before quieting down a bit and regressing, and taking up a new, solemn religious theme. This theme is injected with chromatics in its harmonies that make it sound almost cloying, like a little kid asking silly questions. That’s interjected with a third main theme, that plays like a scherzo, like ghosts or something mystic and mysterious, shadowy and vague. But the religious theme comes back in a refrain. Then, the main theme of the opening section comes back, quieter, but still menacing. And then comes the opening anxiety theme. And then comes wisps of the ghostlike scherzo! With another refrain from the religious theme! See what I mean by improvisation? These main ideas are slowly weaving together right at the end. And from the darkness grows a complete transformation of the main theme, what was beast is now beauty, and it is as grand and golden as you can expect, especially when it’s the first “major key” section in the otherwise minor key work. Then a variation of this theme is used as a fugue. Then a variation is used in an overwhelmingly triumphant coda. The “Big symphonic piece” is kind of weird, and maybe a little clunky at times, and definitely niche [being an organ piece NOT written by Bach], but still it’s something I fell in love with just this past month.

<3 any chamber music by Schubert honestly. But yeah I was just thinking I haven't listened to the Death and the Maiden or SQ 15 in a long time...

What have you listened to lately?

You can also share specific albums or recordings if you want!

Schubert - Piano Trio no. 2 (1827)

The public premiere of this work was at Schubert’s one and only benefit concert on March 26, 1828. This happened to be the one year anniversary of Beethoven’s death, a death which impacted the musical world so strongly, that, even though this concert was an all-Schubert program, it was subconsciously an ‘In Memoriam” concert for Beethoven. It’s also interesting to note that the year before, around the time of B’s death, Schubert had gone to a concert of Swedish folk music, and one song in particular stuck with Schubert, who loved it so much he decided to use it in this trio. The melody is shifted around a bit, but his altered version is the A section of the second movement. A few fragments of the melody, specifically a single falling interval of two notes, are used in different ways throughout the full trio, making it almost cyclical [though much more subtle than the cyclical music of, say, Franck or Liszt]. The first movement opens with a grand statement, and the musicians work together in a graceful harmony of constantly flowing music, the kind where you don’t notice the passing of time, a magic trick that only Schubert could achieve. Unison octaves, rippling effects, and little gestures pepper the song-like melodies that come one after another. The second movement is elegiac, a darker bittersweet melody, based off of the Swedish song which was about saying farewell after death. But the simple pulse of the chord progression underneath the simple, single line of music, keeps the music in an elevated and gentle kind of mourning. The B section is uplifting, and is based off of the main falling-interval snipped out of the main melody. After the repeats, the A theme comes back with a vengeance, heavy chords that fill the soundscape. The texture thins out a bit before closing with a whisper. The third movement is a fun minuet in canonic imitation, the instruments playing tag with each other. The last movement opens with a charming melody in the piano, which the violin and cello help take over in the repeats. Though soon, an altered version of the second movement’s main theme returns, a shadowed cloud over the sunny day. The textures get dense and nearly symphonic near the coda as the music comes to a bright ending. While the full trio is outstanding, the second movement has become one of Schubert’s more iconic works, and it has been used in various films and TV shows. I also can’t help but think about it in similar contexts, feeling lost to the world or thinking back to old times with friends. And just today I had attended a distant relative’s funeral, and during the mass I could not help but think about this music, about the revised version of the old Swedish folksong. Thinking about how language is an innate part of us, and so music also is a language we understand. The same emotions that the original song carry can touch us without needing the words, and this is why we like to think of artists as being in tune with this language. The andante is hard to talk about because it already speaks for itself.

Movements:

1. Allegro

2. Andante con moto

3. Scherzo: Allegro moderato

4. Allegro moderato

This Week's Listening & Muses - April 1-7

Schmitt - Suites from Antoine et Cléopâtre. For r/classicalmusic 's piece of the week. I haven't listened to much by Florent Schmitt, I know his symphonie concertante and some piano works. I liked his orchestration, like Debussy mixed with Strauss. Doesn't captivate me as much as the piano and chamber works but it is luscious.

Mendelssohn - Concerto in Ab Major for two pianos. Decided to listen through more of Hyperion's catalogue of "Romantic Piano Concertos", which were some of the works I listened to getting into classical music and were formative to my tastes. Mendelssohn's double piano concertos were written when he was a teenager for him to play with his sister Fanny, and they weren't published in his lifetime and apparently he thought they were immature. The concerto was charming and made me think of the early/classical Beethoven piano concertos

Moszkowski - Piano Concerto in E major. Another recording from the Romantic Concertos series, I hadn't listened to this one much before and wasn't that interested. Listening to it again now, I loved the exuberance and larger-than-life sounds

Schmidt - Symphony no.1. A less popular symphonist I was really into years back, late romantic and decadent. I didn't like this one as much at first, but listening now I'm surprised that I used to find it boring. It's very loud, grand, "majestic", and like a lot of romantic symphonies, long. It's great for blasting on speakers

Messiaen - Turangalîla. To break up the Romantic monotony, I was happy to see Marc-André Hamelin as the pianist for this masterpiece. Bombastic, "futuristic", otherworldly, fun and beautiful and sometimes mind-boggling.

I'll try to post the top favorites of music I listen to in a week to share some recommendations and act as my own listening diary, hopefully introduce some music to you guys or get recommendations in return!

Alexander von Zemlinsky “Trió para Piano Op. 3”

What have you listened to lately?

You can also share specific albums or recordings if you want!

I first heard Gombert from an anonymous message to this blog a few years back where someone sent an unhinged rant about how Bach ruined the trajectory of Western music history (Lol. Lmao even.) but I have to admit his free counterpoint does feel like a sonic recreation of the heavenly firmament which was an aesthetic goal of religious composers at the time

Media vita in morte sumus (By Nicolas Gombert)

Rachmaninoff - Suite no. 1 (Fantaisie-Tableaux), for two pianos

There is something that I love about piano duos…the extra textural layer opens up a new sound world that couldn’t be created by just one piano. That might sound silly, but listen to the opening of this work, how one piano carries the melody while the other plays glittery figurations over it around the same register. Either way, this early work by Rachmaninoff was dedicated to Tchaikovsky, whose influence on the young aspiring composer can be heard in the lush melodies and almost “orchestral” piano writing. Each movement [or as the title suggests, each musical picture] is inspired by a different poem, and so the musical mood tries to recreate the emotions of each poem. The opening is a Venetian boat song that glides and glitters along a melancholic tune. The next piece is like a love aria, holding onto the Romantic nocturnal mood, and a quiet opening leads to a more passionate middle section. Almost like a sonata, it moves into the next movement, a dark and constant downpour of tears. The finale is full of jubilant church bells signaling an Easter celebration and festival.

Movements:

1. Barcarolle (poem by Mikhail Lermontov)

2. The Night…the Love (poem by Lord Byron)

3. Tears (poem by Fyodor Tyutchev)

4. Easter (poem by Alexei Khomyakov)

Penderecki - St. Luke Passion (1966)

Thinking about music for Good Friday, it’s almost “obvious” to go for one of Bach’s Passions, which I haven’t heard before I confess. However, Penderecki was calling to me after I found a CD of his St. Luke Passion at my library. And even though it was what I expected it to be, I was still blown away. Lost without any key, and listening to an orchestra and organ and choir play out in unorthodox ways, created multiple waves of dread, and recreated the drama of execution. But this drama isn’t theatrical, it is….it is almost brutally realistic. Despite the subject being Jesus Christ, the work has more focus on the human side of Good Friday, focusing on a man’s suffering and humiliation, on his mother crying for his pain, and the onlookers who either morn or hiss and mock him. The “ordinary” aspect of the crucifixion is that humans have been brutally killing each other in all kinds of imaginative ways through history. The “horror” is that the suffering of Christ is only still lamented because He is God, whereas we don’t express as much sympathy for people who are put to death every day. Out of sight out of mind maybe. It’s a very dark work, full of unique effects [especially the disturbing moments where the crowd mocks Jesus with vocal spitting and unintelligible babbling] and also works out of old Gregorian chant writing while still sounding completely “new” and unique. As bleak as the work is, it tries to end on a higher note of victory, and also at least tries to convey the message that we can work toward ending suffering if we recognize others as ourselves.

Euguerrand Quarton - La Pièta (mid-15th century)