Music from the 1940s by Blacher, Weill, Milhaud, and others

I found this gem of a CD at the Dayton Public Library, which typically doesn't have much of interest from the 20th Century. 

Testimonies of War / Kriegszeugnisse

Music of Blacher, Weill, Vaughan Williams, Milhaud

I first have been listening to the works of Boris Blacher (1903-(1932)-1975), which are the largest part of the 2-disk CD. The Rundfunk Sinfonieorchester Berlin under the conductor Noam Sheriff perform three works. 

Alla Marcia  (2:26)

This march is a very short piece that has bright orchestration of a simple tune, which is enlivened by juxtaposing the march with underlying, constantly changing rhythms (for example, 4/4 over 3/4 drums). The result sounds truly of its time rhythmically, but the melodic component depends greatly on simple folk influences that seem to be sorely out of context.

Dance Scenes "La vie" (1938). 1. Intrada; 2. Pas de Deux; 3. Scherzo; 4. Rag-Caprice; 5. Valse, 'La Vie'; 6. Carnival; 7. Episodes; 8. Tango; 9. Intermezzo; 10. Theme And Variation I (Rumba); 11. Variation Ii (March); 12. Danzon; 13. Envoi. Total time about 33 minutes.

This dance suite generally has an open scoring that is very reminiscent of the orchestral textures of Mozart. Some interpolations of larger masses of the orchestra occur, but their appearance works more as commentary on the generally spare textures. Blacher uses tonality in a fluid way, similar to Debussy's use of modal centers and free, unresolved dissonance. Each short piece has a clear central harmonic focus (though not always a "key" in a traditional sense), and the pieces have a clear harmonic relationship to each other. Some pieces have a strong affinity for popular and cinematic music idiom. All have a consistent, convincing dance drive. The "Danzon" is especially nice, providing a penultimate thrill for the full orchestra, and "Envoi" seems a gentle let-down or after-thought.

Chiarina (1946). 1. No. 1 Promenade (Theme); 2. Variation I; 3. Variation II; 4. Variation III; 5. Variation IV; 6. Variation V; 7. Coda; 8. No. 2 Adagio; 9. No. 3 Rondo-Finale. Total time: about 23 minutes.

This work, also originally a dance work, explores a mix of theatrical content in a modified symphonic form. The theme of the first movement is pleasant—almost too pleasant—and light dance music that becomes ever more revealed at each variation, some of which derive nicely from contemporary ballroom dance styles. The second movement brings the piano to higher prominence, giving it a slowly rising, scale-based melody that is answered by descending replies in the strings and a lightly-textured swinging chorus that has strong elements of jazz-based harmonizations. Notable is the reliance on repetitions that are nearly exact, a heavy-handed emphasis (to a modern ear, at least) on the formal organization based on simply stated elements. The third movement again places the piano in prominence, and again uses many jazz-based figures, some as incongruous to the 1940s as ragtime.

The remaining three works by Blacher are performed by others.
Partita for Strings & 6 Percussion (1945). 1. Allegro; 2. Andante; 3. Vivace molto. Total time about 17.5 minutes.

Andrzej Borejko, leading the Poznan Philharmonic Orchestra. This tip of the hat to the Baroque form has compellingly independent lines for the strings, with a rational, free treatment of dissonance that results from that independence. Though the percussion battery is fairly broad (excepting most of the pitched instruments), the writing for the instruments does not push toward the freedoms afforded in the latest years of the 20th C. The second movement starts with an especially nice, long melody.

Sonatine No. 2 for piano. 1. Moderato; 2. Allegro.

Sylvie Lechevalier at the piano performs a very charming, off-tonal piece reminiscent of the neoclassical Stravinsky. Total time about 2.5 minutes.

Drei Psalmen. 1. Ich schreie zum Herrn mit meiner Stimme; 2. Herr, ich rufe zu dir, eile zu mir; 3. Ich hebe meine Augen auf zu den Bergen. Time 6.5 minutes.

Michael Kraus, baritone, and Walter Moore at the piano perform these relatively astringent settings of the psalms, which turn out to be quite a test of the strength of a singer's character—and security of pitch. Though the vocal lines are indeed melodic, as is the piano at an independent pace, seldom does the voice produce more than one tone for each syllable, which makes for a quickly moving survey of long passages from the source. This tone-for-syllable setting assigns a difficult task to the singer: make a suitably emotional result. Michael Kraus does not meet this challenge.

 

New arrival

The postal service delivered the CD of four pieces by Libby Larsen yesterday, and I was looking forward to getting to my computer for three first hearings and a chance to hear Parachute Dances again (and again). Here are my first-out impressions.


Symphony #1: Water Music (1984). 1. Fresh Breeze; 2. Hot, Still; 3. Wafting; 4. Gale.

• The first movement starts as a fanfare, with a flourish of trumpets and trilling strings and woodwinds. It's a bright, welcoming sunlight of a movement, ending with chimes and bells.
• The second movement might be compared to a mysterious, hidden glen with woodwind calls into the morning haze. Then a stillness, a langour takes over for the remainder of the movement.
• The third movement has a jocular, active passing of short motifs that ends before much gets explored; it is an extremely short movement.
• The fourth movement has tone painting at a fine point, though the music is a bit trite with ripping flute-piccolo above rumbling tympani. Here for once the earbuds are clearly not up to the sonic test. A good speaker system or an in-person acoustic experience should bring forth the power called for from the score.

Overall, this symphony feels of a scope and weight more like a lesser-known contemporary of Mozart. The movements do not exhibit a strong symphonic drive, nor do they explore the motifs and textures in a definitive way. These four movements total 18.5 minutes, and the texture might be better served in a live rendition rather than earbuds or lower quality speakers. I listened to the work again away from the computer and felt more aware of the textures and qualities of the music.

Overture: Parachute Dancing (1983)

The CD-earbud experience is a pale imitation of the experience in the symphony hall. For example, the snap of strings on the fingerboard are almost unnoticeable, and the tympani are distant rumbles without great character. Nevertheless, the stereo effects are well separated, and the woodwinds and brass have greater presence.

Ring Of Fire (1995)

This work is a strong exhibit of Larsen's ability as a colorist, a balancer of orchestral forces that she places in juxtaposition to each other. Some 4 minutes in, the full-voice orchestra suddenly shifts to individual voices, starting with the oboe and bassoon and then gradually shifts back to full-voice utterances. Then again a couple minutes later, isolated voices echo each other, until one gets a sense of calls in a forest that move toward a momentary, constricted song from the violin. Toward the end, the orchestral forces again toss their motifs about in a building crescendo that ends inconclusively and quietly, as if the ring of fire has extinguished its fuel.

Symphony #3, "Lyric" (1995). 1. Deep Purple; 2. Quiet; 3. Since Armstrong

• The opening string choir of the first movement has a faint Gregorian-chant feel, tinged with Debussian voicing. Over these textures, various instruments add a commentary. The dark, deep-toned movement builds to a stretto that could be the equal of Schönberg as the lines break into battling chorused statements over a combative tympani presence and trembling strings.
• Over a chord that ever shifts its color between brass tones (think Elliott Carter's woodwind quintet) and barely noticed string and harp strikes, percussion and woodwind offer langourously moving phrases. The second movement closes with slowly uttered, plaintive chords over quiet tympani and xylophone.
• After an introductory alternation of chords between strings and tone choirs in the orchestra, the third movement features a repeated phrase for English horn and piano. The movement ends with a frenzy of low brass pitted against full orchestra.

Larsen has reached a more mature voice in this third symphony, having been written a decade later than the first symphony. Her palette of expressive color broadened in that decade, as had her command of exploring the subtleties of motivic structure. I look forward to hearing her symphonies #4 and #5 soon. Certainly, her work deserves more exploration than a single CD of orchestral music.

Larsen's catalog of works includes solo voice, opera, and solo instrument works that represent her work from 1984 to the present. And judging from the selections performed by the University of Dayton faculty in recital last week, the song cycles provide superb characterization and sensitive settings for the voice.

First hearings in the concert hall: Larsen's Parachute Dances

Libby Larsen is a great advocate of the "acoustic experience" that comes from a performance in the concert hall. At the same time, she celebrates the independence we now have from that four-wall access to music, which we have developed in the historical progress from radio, through phonograph, television, car stereo, and now via computer access.

Generally, I prefer the accessibility of iTunes and other online sources, since the programming is of my choice, usually free of interpretation by announcers and programmers. I recognize the trade-offs I make when I don the earbuds:

• The sonic range is limited by the device—by even the best headphones.
• Outside noise can affect the overall result—especialy with earbuds.
• Programming is still limited by the CDs and downloads that I've purchased—or taken as a loan from the public library—and by the limitations of the search algorithms installed in Amazon.com, iTunes' Ping, and other services related to what I purchase or listen to while online.

But I do indeed go to the concert hall when that is the only venue for a specific piece. Such was the case yesterday for a first hearing of Ms. Larsen's "Overture: Parachute Dances" as performed by the Dayton Philharmonic Orchestra. (The DPO concert will be broadcast and webcast on WDPR on 2011.04.02 (2 April, 2011) at 10:00 a.m., Eastern time.) It was also the case earlier in the day for a new interpretation of John Adams' Nixon in China, as conducted by the composer in a worldwide broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera in HD.

Reporting a first hearing from the concert hall has its disadvantages.

• The performance and music must last in the memory and surpass the memories of other music heard in the same concert. The memory is truly dependent on the attitudes that inform the programmer, since often better memory occurs with either a fresh mind or with the latest impressions. Thus, the first and last pieces in a program have special prominence.
• Generally a concert listener is less aware of how long a new piece is. This lack of time sense means the listener can't use time to understand the piece and make it coherent  through gauging the present moment in comparison to the beginning and end. Thus, the logical unifying of sound through motif, simultaneity, similarity, and contrast becomes subservient to the moment and to what awareness the listener can muster to retain each moment that occurred before.
• The listening location in the hall affects aspects of the balance between each performer. Although the better halls tend to produce a good blend of all the instruments for most seats, especially so for those in the middle of the orchestra and fronts of the balconies, the experience of each listener is different.
• Each performance suffers from—and some would say benefits from—the John Cage effect, where the whole experience consists of all the sounds in the venue, including the music made, the rustle of pages turned by the performers, and the coughs and crackling of candy wrappers from the seat occupants next to you.
• Finally, the perception of a performance is informed by the audience as a whole. Tepid or enthusiastic applause builds and supports an overall consensus of the effect of a piece.

With all that in mind, and after a half day's settling in, I found the new work by Larsen exciting and enticing enough for acquiring a CD of the work.

The memory of "Overture: Parachute Dances" surpasses the hearings of the two later, larger parts of the program, Mozart's Symphony #39 and Strauss' "Ein Heldenleben." Though the length, breadth, and depth of Heldenleben might work against the memory of a lesser piece, Parachute Dancing holds its own indeed. The textures include polyphonic motif treatment—jumping from violins to cellos to brass and woodwinds, subtle and sometimes surprising utterances from a large percussion section—including superb moments for xylophone, and expanded timbres from the strings to include pizzicati and snapping the strings to the fingerboard. The piece lasts 6 minutes, give or take a bit, and every moment hangs on what has come before and informs later moments as they build toward culmination. I highly recommend buying one of the recorded performances of Parachute Dances, which is packaged as one of four works by Larsen or one of seven pieces by different composers.


For thoughts on Nixon in China,

Some new-to-me composers

About a month ago, violinist Hillary Hahn named 26 composers who she had commissioned for encore pieces to add to her repertoire. This list was a treasure trove to me, because only three names were familiar to me as "serious composers." I went to the web to find at least snippets of music by the others, and found a dozen or more composers whose music speaks to me.

Among them was the 33-year-old  Mason Bates, whose music I found on a CD of works performed by Claremont Trio. And yet this CD was even more wonderful to me because it included another two composers who I had not heard from before: Paul Schoenfield and Leon Kirchner. Here then are my notes from the first hearings of four of the works on this CD.

Zwilich, Ellen Taaffe 1939-(1985)-
Trio. 1. Allegro con brio; 2. Lento; 3. Presto
Claremont Trio (Kwong, Donna (pno); Bruskin, Emily (vln); Bruskin, Julia (vc))
An exciting set of movements that seem to finish long before necessary. This performance has the three instruments at even intensity of expression, but the piano seems to be undermiked at times. The music itself, though clearly derived from the Second Viennese School, passes frequently between rows and arpeggiations that offer a strong sense of where the home base is, even when the music hits a high fly to out to the outfield.

Kirchner, Leon 1919-(1949)-2009
Trio. 1. [No name]; 2. Largo
Claremont Trio (Kwong, Donna (pno); Bruskin, Emily (vln); Bruskin, Julia (vc))
This music is at once ethereal and erudite, a bit removed from emotive, personal expression. The slow movement offers more to hang onto, even with a wealth of slithering harmonic centers.

Kirchner, Leon 1919-(1949)-2009
Trio II
Claremont Trio (Kwong, Donna (pno); Bruskin, Emily (vln); Bruskin, Julia (vc))
If you decide on listening, be sure to devote quiet time to focus on this work. Though it is relatively demanding, it is especially rewarding in how the harmonic and melodic elements come together in the last two minutes. Harmonics in the cello come as a surprise almost, echoed then moments later by harmonics in the violin at the last phrase.

Bates, Mason 1977-(2002)-
String Band
Claremont Trio (Kwong, Donna (pno); Bruskin, Emily (vln); Bruskin, Julia (vc))
This piece jumps everywhere and back, with tips of the hat to superb trains of thought that have come before. What's consistent is the work's cohesive use of the many disparate styles. At first, one hears lots of repetitions of the same tone, beautifully shimmering texture that seems much more than a "mere" piano trio of three performers. The shimmering flows into a hoedown with brightly exclaimed accents. A strong juxtaposition comes with full-on long notes over staccato-pizzicato and short figures; shifting into a lilting, swinging period then gives over, once again, after the midpoint, to a return to the repeated tones under a long fluid line.

Introduction

I have loved new music as far back as I remember hearing music.

When I heard, at age 3, the nursery rhymes on our RCA Victor console that played only 78-rpm platters, I loved the first time through of "Hicory dickory doc / The mouse ran up the clock." But I was ready for a different platter when the Victor Dog answered "Rrrrright!" to the narrator's question, "Right Nipper?" and the songs were finished.

After I floated home, at age 12, from the Beloit community band practices, ecstatic from the rush I got playing the trombone parts to Sousa marches that I had never heard before, I found it impossible to duplicate the feeling after the next week's practice, since we played the same marches again.

Then again, closer to age 16, when I discovered "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" and other Broadway musical numbers, the "1812 Overture," the "Prelude" and "Liebestod" to Tristan, my joy turned nearly orgasmic at first hearing—and actually so for the "Liebestod." But for the second and subsequent hearings of these and the treasures from the canon of music history, my joy of the first hearing was seldom duplicated.


It wasn't that I had turned into the analyst at the subsequent hearing, but that I really loved new music or perhaps the newness of the music. This online diary records my contacts with the music that comes to me as new music. But with this different meaning of the term: it is the music that is new to me. Even a newly discovered work by Bach may well provide that jazzy, orgiastic feeling on first hearing.