Last night, 14 May 2011, brought Paavo Järvi's ten-year run as music director of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra to a close. Everyone who has attended the CSO concerts and followed the orchestra over the past ten years have their own memories of what Paavo brought to the stage and the community. Under his leadership the orchestra toured abroad to Europe and Japan, collaborated on 17 CDs, with the Mussorgsky CD from 2008 winning a Grammy, and Paavo brought new music and rarely performed works to Music Hall. As far as rarely performed works go, Paavo led the second performance ever of Olivier Messiaen's colossal Turangalila symphonie, a work that highlights the ondes martenot, an instrument hard to come by, and only a handful of people remain skilled enough to perform it.
For his final concert, Paavo introduced the audience to two new works by his friend Erkki-Sven Tüür. The first work was a world premiere of the anniversary fanfare, Fireflower, followed by the American premiere of his Piano Concerto with Awadagin Pratt as soloist. Pratt is on the piano faculty at UC's College-Conservatory of Music. Tüür is hardly a tunesmith. His approach to music deals with soundscapes, sound masses, and achieving unique colors from the orchestra. The second half of the concert featured Gustav Mahler's Fifth Symphony. Perhaps this was a fitting choice to close his tenure as music director since Mahler's Fifth Symphony received it's American premiere by the CSO in 1905 under the direction of Frank Van der Stucken. There is no greater substitution to experiencing Mahler live, especially in skillful hands such as Paavo's. Little motif nuances that often get buried in some of the thickest orchestration points come to the surface under his direction.
Until last night I had never heard Mahler's Fifth Symphony live. In fact all the concerts Paavo conducted Mahler was my first time hearing these symphonies live. This includes the Second, Ninth, Seventh, and Fifth. Though these are great works to experience live, there is still a single concert that stands out for me. Paavo led an outstanding interpretation and performance of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique in 2007. The direction was incredible, the orchestra responded skillfully to his direction, and performed the best I believe I have heard them. With Paavo's departure he joins some great company of former music directors of the CSO, including: Leopold Stokowski, Fritz Reiner, Eugene Goosens, and Thomas Shippers.
I took video of Paavo's final bows, and hs encoe of Sibelius's Valse triste. This was a fitting encore for me since Sibelius's Kullervo was on the first program I heard Paavo conduct. So it was nice to have bookends of Sibelius to finish my experience of the Paavo years. The video was too large to post here, but you can find both parts on my facebook page
15 May 2011
24 April 2011
The Dissertation Chronicles, Op. 11: Beethoven-Wranitzky Modeling?
I recently received a message through The Wranitzky Project concerning a case of possible modeling between Beethoven and Wranitzky. This concerns the Symphony No. 2 of the former and the Symphony, Op. 52 of the latter. The very beginning of the slow introductions to both symphonies have a similar sound and melodic contour that it begs the question if one was influenced by the other, or perhaps paying respect to the other.
Whenever a case of quotation or modeling appears, it must be approached with delicacy and caution, and this case is certainly no different. Let's begin with the genesis of the compositions. Beethoven composed his Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 36 during the years 1801-02, and it was first performed on 5 April 1803. Beethoven composed his symphony during a tumultuous time in his life with his hearing fading and with a greater sense of isolation. When Wranitzky composed his Symphony in D Major, Op. 52 remains undetermined. As far as dating the work the only reliable source we have is the 1805 publication by the Viennese publisher, Andre. If this was his latest symphony, it would not be inappropriate to put the Op. 52 within the window of 1802-04 for its composition and first performance. Beethoven's Op. 36 was published by the Viennese Bureau des Arts et d'Industrie the year after its first performance. So presumably both symphonies could have been composed within the same window of time, but which one came first still presents a problem.
Before exploring this a little bit further, here is the issue at hand. First is the Beethoven, followed by the Wranitzky. There are a couple of slight differences such as the anacrusis in the Beethoven, and the Beethoven is in triple meter while the Wranitzky is in common time.
Hopefully you can hear that both composers firmly establish the tonic then skip to scale degree 3 and descend from there 2-1-1-7 (with the last two coming in the form of a 4-3 suspension over the dominant). From here Beethoven provides a varied repetition of the first four bars before launching into a development section. As for Wranitzky, he repeats the initial statement one scale degree higher and closes the second phrase on V/V. This sequential presentation of themes appear to be common in Wranitzky's symphonies, particularly with P material in his first movements. After the statement of the first four bars the two composers have chosen two different paths to follow. The only strong relationship between the introductions is the opening four bars in the Wranitzky and the opening two bars in the Beethoven. Even the overall character of the two introductions oppose each other. Wranitzky's is rather straightforward and somewhat chorale-like in character, whereas Beethoven's sounds like a French overture with dotted rhythms and imitative tirades across the orchestra.
From a personal perspective, both composers knew each other, and in fact it Wranitzky who led the premier performance of Beethoven's First Symphony. Whether Wranitzky heard Beethoven's Second Symphony and decided to give a nod to his contemporary, or whether Beethoven did the same to Wranitzky for leading the premier of his First Symphony is still a matter of conjecture.
While examining this I found a possible case of multi-movement unity in Wranitzky's Op. 52 based on the opening four bars of the symphony. The opening phrase and the closing theme to A in the rondo Finale share an affinity with regards to melodic contour and cadence. Also the sequential statement of the same melodic material is present in both areas. Here is the example:
Even arguments suggesting multi-movement unity come under the same scrutiny as making a comparison with a work by another composer. Did Wranitzky intentionally compose the closing theme to the A section of the finale to have a melodic affinity with the opening of the symphony? Or could this simply be a coincidence involving a simple and common melodic contour and cadence type?
Whenever a case of quotation or modeling appears, it must be approached with delicacy and caution, and this case is certainly no different. Let's begin with the genesis of the compositions. Beethoven composed his Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 36 during the years 1801-02, and it was first performed on 5 April 1803. Beethoven composed his symphony during a tumultuous time in his life with his hearing fading and with a greater sense of isolation. When Wranitzky composed his Symphony in D Major, Op. 52 remains undetermined. As far as dating the work the only reliable source we have is the 1805 publication by the Viennese publisher, Andre. If this was his latest symphony, it would not be inappropriate to put the Op. 52 within the window of 1802-04 for its composition and first performance. Beethoven's Op. 36 was published by the Viennese Bureau des Arts et d'Industrie the year after its first performance. So presumably both symphonies could have been composed within the same window of time, but which one came first still presents a problem.
Before exploring this a little bit further, here is the issue at hand. First is the Beethoven, followed by the Wranitzky. There are a couple of slight differences such as the anacrusis in the Beethoven, and the Beethoven is in triple meter while the Wranitzky is in common time.
Hopefully you can hear that both composers firmly establish the tonic then skip to scale degree 3 and descend from there 2-1-1-7 (with the last two coming in the form of a 4-3 suspension over the dominant). From here Beethoven provides a varied repetition of the first four bars before launching into a development section. As for Wranitzky, he repeats the initial statement one scale degree higher and closes the second phrase on V/V. This sequential presentation of themes appear to be common in Wranitzky's symphonies, particularly with P material in his first movements. After the statement of the first four bars the two composers have chosen two different paths to follow. The only strong relationship between the introductions is the opening four bars in the Wranitzky and the opening two bars in the Beethoven. Even the overall character of the two introductions oppose each other. Wranitzky's is rather straightforward and somewhat chorale-like in character, whereas Beethoven's sounds like a French overture with dotted rhythms and imitative tirades across the orchestra.
From a personal perspective, both composers knew each other, and in fact it Wranitzky who led the premier performance of Beethoven's First Symphony. Whether Wranitzky heard Beethoven's Second Symphony and decided to give a nod to his contemporary, or whether Beethoven did the same to Wranitzky for leading the premier of his First Symphony is still a matter of conjecture.
While examining this I found a possible case of multi-movement unity in Wranitzky's Op. 52 based on the opening four bars of the symphony. The opening phrase and the closing theme to A in the rondo Finale share an affinity with regards to melodic contour and cadence. Also the sequential statement of the same melodic material is present in both areas. Here is the example:
Even arguments suggesting multi-movement unity come under the same scrutiny as making a comparison with a work by another composer. Did Wranitzky intentionally compose the closing theme to the A section of the finale to have a melodic affinity with the opening of the symphony? Or could this simply be a coincidence involving a simple and common melodic contour and cadence type?
13 March 2011
The Cincy Brass
This past Friday night I went to Arnold's for their Mardi Gras theme night, featuring a Mardi Gras menu and The Cincy Brass. I had the jambalaya, Christian Moerlein OTR, and finished with, what else, a hurricane. The Cincy Brass was a fun ensemble comprised of college students. Their repertoire ranged from old standards, including "The Saints Go Marching In" to begin, some original numbers, and covers of recent pop artists like Lady GaGa and Katy Perry. Here is a little sample:
24 January 2011
The Dissertation Chronicles, Op. 10
Today I completed the draft to my first dissertation chapter and sent it off to my adviser. Originally, I planned to write a chapter on instrumentation and orchestration, but my adviser suggested that I split the two. So this first chapter is on instrumentation, meaning a discussion purely on just the instruments called on for a particular work. The following chapter will be on orchestration, how the instruments interact, aid in articulation of form, and provide special effects and flashes of virtuosity.
As I reviewed the literature, some scholars mention the instrumentation of a work or works, but rarely comment on it. Then there are hose like John Spitzer and Neal Zaslaw who research changing conditions, size, and balance among orchestras throughout Europe. Yet more often than not, the focus remains on the usual suspects: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert. These are the canonical composers who led to the reduction of our understanding of Viennese symphonic culture. I hope to remedy this on some level with my dissertation.
In the instrumentation chapter I hold up the symphonies of Beethoven's contemporaries to the simplified historical narrative, mainly the idea of the Classical orchestra (strings in four parts, pairs of winds, and timpani). Among Beethoven's contemporaries, only about 40% of their symphonies, at best, used this instrumentation. most of the others used smaller forces, and the remaining symphonies used trombones in addition to the "classical" orchestra, and others used accessory instruments (Turkish instruments and the like). With the entrance of the trombones, three was not the norm as often told by the historical narrative, mainly because of Beethoven's Fifth and Sixth Symphonies.
Basically, accessory instruments amount to unconventional instruments. Turkish instruments (cymbals, triangle, military drums, and bass drums) are the most common addition. The example often referenced is Haydn's Symphony No. 100, "Military" from 1794. But before him came Franz Xaver Sussmayr and his Sinfonia turchesa from 1791. From the group of composers I examined, only two used Turkish instruments. Ferdinand Ries used them in the finale of his Sixth Symphony from 1822, and Paul Wranitzky used them in three of his symphonies (all composed for performance at the court of Marie Therese). The remaining symphonies using accessory instruments were composed by Wranitzky, and include two symphonies with keyboard (presumably composed with Marie Therese in mind), a symphony using four Papageno flutes and glockenspiel (both references to Mozart's Die Zauberflote (a favorite opera of Marie Therese), and a toy symphony. All of these symphonies by Wranitzky were composed during the last decade of his life (1795-1808).
It took longer than I would have liked to complete this chapter, but along the way I researched sources and did score study that helped lay the foundation for the next two chapters I will write. Orchestration is next, and there are several fascinating topics to explore with the symphonies I am looking at.
As I reviewed the literature, some scholars mention the instrumentation of a work or works, but rarely comment on it. Then there are hose like John Spitzer and Neal Zaslaw who research changing conditions, size, and balance among orchestras throughout Europe. Yet more often than not, the focus remains on the usual suspects: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert. These are the canonical composers who led to the reduction of our understanding of Viennese symphonic culture. I hope to remedy this on some level with my dissertation.
In the instrumentation chapter I hold up the symphonies of Beethoven's contemporaries to the simplified historical narrative, mainly the idea of the Classical orchestra (strings in four parts, pairs of winds, and timpani). Among Beethoven's contemporaries, only about 40% of their symphonies, at best, used this instrumentation. most of the others used smaller forces, and the remaining symphonies used trombones in addition to the "classical" orchestra, and others used accessory instruments (Turkish instruments and the like). With the entrance of the trombones, three was not the norm as often told by the historical narrative, mainly because of Beethoven's Fifth and Sixth Symphonies.
Basically, accessory instruments amount to unconventional instruments. Turkish instruments (cymbals, triangle, military drums, and bass drums) are the most common addition. The example often referenced is Haydn's Symphony No. 100, "Military" from 1794. But before him came Franz Xaver Sussmayr and his Sinfonia turchesa from 1791. From the group of composers I examined, only two used Turkish instruments. Ferdinand Ries used them in the finale of his Sixth Symphony from 1822, and Paul Wranitzky used them in three of his symphonies (all composed for performance at the court of Marie Therese). The remaining symphonies using accessory instruments were composed by Wranitzky, and include two symphonies with keyboard (presumably composed with Marie Therese in mind), a symphony using four Papageno flutes and glockenspiel (both references to Mozart's Die Zauberflote (a favorite opera of Marie Therese), and a toy symphony. All of these symphonies by Wranitzky were composed during the last decade of his life (1795-1808).
It took longer than I would have liked to complete this chapter, but along the way I researched sources and did score study that helped lay the foundation for the next two chapters I will write. Orchestration is next, and there are several fascinating topics to explore with the symphonies I am looking at.
29 December 2010
Black Swan (2010)
The latest film by Darren Aronofsky, Black Swan, offers another psychological odyssey for his main character in which a return to his/her original state has little probability. In the case of Black Swan, it is the journey of Nina Sayers (played incredibly by Natalie Portman. The director of a ballet company based in New York City, Thomas Leroy (played fiendishly well by Vincent Cassels) is directing a new production of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake where the same ballerina will perform the roles of the Odette (the white swan) and Odile (the black swan) instead of using separate dancers. Thus begins the journey of the frail and timid Nina Sayers. Leroy resorts to various measures to coax out the Black in Nina. The use of black and white costuming and set design and production aids brilliantly as the plot moves along; including a glimpse into a room at Leroy's apartment that is decorated in chromatic colors, with a Rorschach inkblot poster for good measure (a little psychological nod to the character and his motive).
Since the film centers around Tchaikovsky's ballet, naturally music plays a key and prominent role throughout the film. We open with Nina alone on stage with a bright white spotlight shining down on her. The music playing is that of the prelude to the ballet, and hence the prelude to her journey. If you are unfamiliar with the ballet, relax. Nina announces this after she wakes from her dream. Not only is the coordination of the music as it appears in the ballet correspond with the function of the film, but the action presented in this brief prelude offers a taste of imagery to come. The best visual component of the film for me was having the cameraman immersed in the dance scenes. And this was not executed using a Steadicam. The camera work is jostling and jerky, but its close proximity to the actors and dancers providers the viewer with a perspective rarely experienced in ballet.
The score by Clint Mansell, who has collaborated with Aronofsky on all of his major motion pictures, uses quotations and borrowings from the ballet to represent the isolation and psychological state of Nina. The isolation is accomplished through the use of a solo piano with brief borrowings from the ballet that either correspond with the swan depicted by Nina or through aligning the plot of the film with that of the ballet. Kudos go to the entire music production crew for using and editing the orchestral performance of the ballet to heighten the psychological journey. There are certain portions of Swan Lake that sound broodish, plaintive, and ominous on their own, but how and where they are incorporated into the film brought new life and energy to them. One scene i particular that was musically and visually striking came when Nina danced the Odile coda requiring the dancer to perform the celebrated 32 consecutive fouettés, as shown here:
At this point in the film, Nina transforms into the Black Swan in spectacular fashion.
Darren Aronofsky comes through with another great journey into a realm where delusion and reality are blurred, and the amazing process of getting there. A Best Director nod is well deserved. Natalie Portman will certainly receive nominations and wins for her performance. And I would like to see some accolades come Vincent Cassels way as well. I highly recommend Black Swan.
Since the film centers around Tchaikovsky's ballet, naturally music plays a key and prominent role throughout the film. We open with Nina alone on stage with a bright white spotlight shining down on her. The music playing is that of the prelude to the ballet, and hence the prelude to her journey. If you are unfamiliar with the ballet, relax. Nina announces this after she wakes from her dream. Not only is the coordination of the music as it appears in the ballet correspond with the function of the film, but the action presented in this brief prelude offers a taste of imagery to come. The best visual component of the film for me was having the cameraman immersed in the dance scenes. And this was not executed using a Steadicam. The camera work is jostling and jerky, but its close proximity to the actors and dancers providers the viewer with a perspective rarely experienced in ballet.
The score by Clint Mansell, who has collaborated with Aronofsky on all of his major motion pictures, uses quotations and borrowings from the ballet to represent the isolation and psychological state of Nina. The isolation is accomplished through the use of a solo piano with brief borrowings from the ballet that either correspond with the swan depicted by Nina or through aligning the plot of the film with that of the ballet. Kudos go to the entire music production crew for using and editing the orchestral performance of the ballet to heighten the psychological journey. There are certain portions of Swan Lake that sound broodish, plaintive, and ominous on their own, but how and where they are incorporated into the film brought new life and energy to them. One scene i particular that was musically and visually striking came when Nina danced the Odile coda requiring the dancer to perform the celebrated 32 consecutive fouettés, as shown here:
At this point in the film, Nina transforms into the Black Swan in spectacular fashion.
Darren Aronofsky comes through with another great journey into a realm where delusion and reality are blurred, and the amazing process of getting there. A Best Director nod is well deserved. Natalie Portman will certainly receive nominations and wins for her performance. And I would like to see some accolades come Vincent Cassels way as well. I highly recommend Black Swan.
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