Mahler 8 in Phila.

It’s always a special occasion when Gustav Mahler’s Symphony #8 in Eb, also known as the “Symphony of a Thousand,” is performed.  However, this series of performances in March of 2016 has even greater significance since it was one hundred years ago that the then 28 year old new Director of the Philadelphia Orchestra Leopold Stokowski gave the American premier, using literally over a thousand performers (including choruses).  It was the performance that put Philadelphia in the map and, as WRTI announcer Greg Whiteside said “it hasn’t wavered since.”   Maestro Yannick Nézet-Séguin commanded forces not only of a greatly expanded orchestra (including 8 French Horns, a mandolin, harmonium and full organ, plus an addition off stage brass band of 4 trumpets and 3 trombones, but also 8 soloists, two large choirs and a boys choir.  It’s pretty big, and Maestro Nézet-Séguin held the reins very firmly.  It was most fitting I suppose that not only was this performance celebrating the 100th anniversary of the Mahler 8th in America, but only a few days earlier Maestro Nézet-Séguin had celebrated his own 41st birthday.  Nice.

Unfortunately, I think partly because of the problematic acoustics of Verizon Hall the sound was not very good.  Mike placement was almost entirely focused on the strings and the chorus and soloists were very much in the background.  As a result, it was difficult to get a good sense of how the choirs really sounded.  Overall, from what I could determine from the sound it was quite satisfactory.  With that caveat out of the way I thought  Maestro Nézet-Séguin's interpretation was right on spot.  The dynamics were faithfully followed, for the most part, and the tempi were absolutely perfect! 

Yet, for some reason getting good soloists for this piece has always been a problem.  And this was no exception.  The main difficulty is finding a lyric soprano capable of singing the Mater Gloriosa part, who also is usually the soprano (unnamed) solo during the beginning of the final chorus (Das Ewige-Weibliche — The Eternal-Feminine).  This section requires the soprano to unobtrusively approach and then effortlessly pick out (or “float” to) a pianissimo high C.  I’ve never understood why conductors over and over again: Bernstein, Solti, Haitink, etc. almost invariably choose the wrong soprano to do this.  Of the dozen or more recordings and performances I’ve heard of this piece only two have had a soprano who actually gets it right: 1) Donald Runnicles 2010 performance with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, which in this case Erin Wall (Una Poenitentium here in Phila.) was Magna Peccatrix, but also did the high C and did it beautifully; and 2) a 1960 outdoor festival performance in Vienna with Dimitri Mitropoulos, with all of its shortcomings, was more than compensated with Mimi Coertse’s Mater Gloriosa and her absolutely impeccable, astonishing pianississimo C from which she grows the most delicate crescendo.  I can only assume that this singing was precisely what Mahler imagined.  I have never heard ANYBODY, no matter how famous, do this so perfectly.  Of course, as you can imagine, unfortunately Angela Meade* fell a little short.  She was an unfortunate choice, she had a total lack of control, resulting in the kind of straight tone one experiences from strain, albeit fairly quiet (about mp), but strain just the same.  It wouldn’t mean so much if this wasn’t such crucial point the score; which is why it baffles me so much that conductors treat this moment so cavalierly that one would think that they’re just thinking: “Oh, she’s a lyric we’ll have her sing the C,”  without hearing it first.

OK, enough of the “high C.”  Among the other soloists interestingly enough two others who have recently sung this work together stood out as exceptional:  the previously mentioned Erin Wall and bass John Reylea who sang Pater Profundis with Ms. Wall in 2010.  Among the other soloists special maention needs to be made for mezzo-soprano Elisabeth Bishop who was called in at the last minute to replace Stephanie Blythe as Mulier samaritana and did it with aplomb.  Also Mihoko Fujimura (Mater Ægyptiaca) had a rich almost velvety sound closer to a contralto.  Baritone Markus Werba did quite nicely in his short Pater Esctaticus solo, although he had to belt out his high G contrary to Mahler's p indication; but, then again, I have yet to hear a baritone hit an high G softly then crescendo as the score indicates; methinks Gus was asking just a little too much.  I mean, seriously folks, if Hermann Prey couldn't do who can? The tenor,  Anthony Dean Griffey (Doctor Marianus) seemed adequate to the task it was, again difficult to discern, as in case of all the singers, because of the less than satisfactory sound.   Nevertheless, Lisette Oropesa sang Mater Gloriosa most delicately and serenely.  Her pianissimo high B was sublime and gave me hope that she would be the one to sing the "zieht uns hinan" C. I should have realised that would have been impossible since she would have had to hightail down from one of the upper tiers of the auditorium down to the stage.  It might have been possible; but, it would have asked too much for her to give that note what she more than likely normally would have given it.  That was very unfortunate indeed.

What I really liked about this performance was that Maestro Nézet-Séguin was not afraid of letting the organ be heard.  More than the 2nd Symphony, this one has a substantial organ part, pedal runs included.  I could kiss Michael Stairs for giving that part everything it is suppose to have without exceeding the composer’s wishes. MWAH!  Again, I can only imagine how much better everything just have been live.  Unfortunately, now that I’m in Boston I couldn’t get to hear it in person and had to settle for the broadcast; I couldn’t hear the mandolin and could only barely hear the harmonium. Moreover, as I mentioned earlier, the singing, it seemed to me, was treated very much as secondary by the engineers and the strings over emphasised.

So, what about the choirs?  As if I’m not in enough trouble already, let me say this:  since it was not made clear to those not present I couldn’t tell who was Choir I or Choir II.  I think overall (again compensating for the crappy sound) Choir I had a fuller, dare I say richer, sound than Choir II.  Now this difference is slight.  Both choirs sounded quite well, but, the sopranos and tenors in Choir II, in the softer sections, lacked warmth and richness of tone, i.e., no vibrato (the kind of English sound that Simon Rattle likes).  As I said, I don’t know who was whom, I just hope Westminster was Choir I.  In any event all I can is that a John Finley Williamson, Warren Martin, Elaine Brown, or George Lynn choir wouldn’t have needed any help.  I know, because they didn’t.  Notwithstanding, it's always great to hear this piece performed, especially, as in this case, in a most satisfactory performance indeed.

*this is a correction to my original text in which I assumed that Ms. Oropesa was to be the soprano in the final chorus to sing the "hinan C."   I have since learned (via my good friend Thomas Faracco, who WAS there) that Ms. Meade was chosen for the task, which explained much of my conclusions.  Thank you Tom.

A Merry Christmas Indeed

This Christmas was more special for me:  it's the first Christmas I can remember in a very, very long time in which I can safely say I've enjoyed and fully appreciated the season.  You see, for the past 30 plus years I've worked in what is probably the most Scrooge-like, coldblooded, mean spirited business in which a person could work at this time of the year — retailing.   Actually, I'm insulting the Dickens' character because he, at least, became repentant toward the end.  Retailing on the other hand, especially what are referred to as the "big box" stores, primarily (but not exclusively) department stores has no such scruples.  Moreover, the American consumer has become equally coldblooded in encouraging major retailers' (and many small ones') behaviour by gorging themselves in spending and debiting themselves to borderline insolvency in order to slake a need to be accepted by others through a superficial act of materialism.

The problem lies in that this act of buying "things" in voracious quantities has been so conditioned into the American psyche that those who don't (and even a few that do) work as retail sales clerks — oh, excuse me:  "associates" (as if that reflected that they aren't considered the low life scum that they are considered) —  don't even give it a second thought that these stores have to be manned by people during those wee hours of the morning in which these stores insist upon being open.  When stores like Kohl's are open 24 hours during the week before Christmas I'm sure the people who shop at 3:00 a.m. are so incredibly selfish, or absolutely stupid/clueless to understand that just because they can't sleep at night, it doesn't mean that that sales person, who is doing everything he or she can to stay awake, doesn't want to be at home sleeping next to a partner or spouse.  The thoughtlessness of the American consumer is one of the most telltale examples of our material obsession over life affirming values.  It is significantly indicative of how petty and shoal American society continues to devolve.

We could give a s--- about those essentially indentured servants to our beck-and-call to which they must respond (at 4:00 a.m.), and who must deal with the most petty of enquires about those things that are no longer in stock and for which there is no longer a supply and the irate self-entitled behaviour such circumstances engender.  Hey Ms/Mr. shopper, do you think that:  1) what you ask is reasonable? 2) That the person of whom you are demanding your petty concerns actually gives a damn?  Moreover, even if you don't acknowledge what kind of loathsome creature you are, do you think making some one else's life miserable just so that you can buy a few trinkets for somebody you wish to impress with your "thoughtfulness" justifies your incorrigible behaviour?

Nevertheless, I still blame retailers for taking Christmas and making it into something so less than the religious and (dare I say?) spiritual holiday that it is supposed to be.  It is simply a reflection, a byproduct, of the materialism as generated by the avarice defined by the nature of Capitalism.  Greed has not only become the dominant force behind this holiday, it has become the expedient tool by which the avaricious have asphyxiated the original concept of Christmas by quite literally eviscerating it.  A recent Wall Street Journal article shows how the season has been co-opted by businesses appealing to recent societal trends by capitalising on trashing Christmas for the politically correct and the monetarily fruitful vomit of "Happy Holidays" and "Season's Greetings."

I, for one, am sick of it.

The lust for profit has driven retailers to take these extraordinary and ultimately unprofitable extremes with little or no consideration for the fiduciary responsibilities to their employees welfare.  The amount of business they do in additional sales relative to the cost of good will and additional expense to their employees (I'm sure there are egregious anecdotal exceptions) much less operating overhead, simply goes against any rational business sense.  But, that's what we've come to expect from these big stores:  desperation over rationality.

Anyway, I'm glad I'm out of it and am in a position to say "no" to working weekends and late nights.  This year I was able to do what little shopping I needed to do with ease and no stress or pressure.  I was able to simply spend quiet evenings listening to REAL Christmas music, watch "It's Christmas Charlie Brown," have a simple yet elegant meal by candlelight, and just overall simply relax and absorb the the wonders (again through the true music of the season) and mystery of Christmas with my beloved.  Whether or not one  adheres to precepts of the theology associated with Christmas Day is irrelevant.  There is something much more — a metaphysics if you will — that, if you're simply willing to give yourself the time and honesty, transcends all the commerce, and avarice that have become such an unfortunate aspect of Christmastide.  Hey folks, there are twelve days in Christmastide, not one; do something more than just buy a present or two for someone.  Find yourself.

Trying Again

I know, I kept promising myself that I was going to post something every day; or, at least nearly every day.  Well, it hasn’t worked out quite, has it.  I suppose a lot of the issues of which I have strong feelings are ones that potentially get me into trouble.  And then there’s the general malaise of me getting in my own way.  I want to express my thoughts, but they’re constantly being crowded out by the other things I feel compelled to do.  I’m easily distracted, that’s a certainty; living with what I sure is undiagnosed ADD doesn’t help.  Moreover, writing words is almost as difficult — maybe even harder — as writing music.  Making sure that I find the right word for the right phrase in a properly constructed, albeit Jamesianly complex sentence, can be quite a challenge.  The last thing I want is for someone to misunderstand my thinking because I didn’t take the time to make fully clear and complete my thought.  Too many writers, especially bloggers and columnists (I’m sure with journalists time constraints via deadlines have much to do with it) often times write things that are not complete, or perfectly clear living themselves open to misinterpretation or misunderstanding.  With my writing I look at it as: if you misunderstood me you 1) didn’t read everything I wrote, or 2) you are not very bright.  In any event I’ll try to do better.

So today, I found myself concentrating on the piano and the 2nd movement to my piano quintet.  I returned to the quintet mainly as a diversion from the choral piece with which I’ve been stalled.  It’s taken me a few days to “get back into the groove” since it’s been a few months since I’ve even looked at the quintet.  But, after playing it through it a few times to remind me what I’ve actually done, and then getting passed the intimidation of trying to live up to what I have written, the ideas gradually began to emanate.  My problem, that is, what makes composing such a chore for me, is I write almost exclusively in a contrapuntal style.  Although I love rich, sumptuous harmonies (I was listening and swooning to Granville Bantock’s harmonically sybaritic song cycle Sappho yesterday on RBTF’s Musiq3), and though I strive for my counterpoint to achieve that level of sensuality, I find it difficult to write notes that aren’t in some way some form of development or statement, full or partial, of the thematic material with which I’ve introduced the piece.  I guess, I look at “writing chords” (either as simultaneities or as arpeggios) as a kind of copout.  If I can’t come up with a line that derives directly from the initial thematic material then I’m just being lazy.  I’ve gotten a little better; my opening to the second movement to the quintet actually is a tune over repeated, ever chromatically changing, chords; but, then after that, when the four strings appear its counterpoint all the way.  Again, not just a melody with countermelodies, but each line is in some form use of the “tune.”  It’s not as simple as one might assume, especially since I compose tonally.  That means all this linear chromaticism and counterpoint has to fit together in such a way so as to not sound, as Ralph Vaughan Williams once said, like “one of those wrong note boys.”  Notwithstanding, I have actually made some serious progress, not allowing myself to be overly distracted.

Of course, that’s easier said than done.  I did find myself going back and forth between my desk and the piano, finding one to be a pleasant distraction from the other.  Primarily, I found playing the piano as a “break” as it were, from composing, sort of clearing my head a little before returning to the task.  

As to the piano, it’s not my favourite instrument.  The organ is.  Anyone who knows me knows that I love the organ with an unbridled passion.  Yet, my relationship with instrument has always been somewhat tumultuous.  Not so much the instrument as with organ “world” (without needless repetition allow me to refer those readers unfamiliar with my thoughts on the organ to [my earlier columns here]).  Nevertheless, being without an organ on which to practise since I moved up to New England, I’m stuck playing the piano.  Fortunately I’ve had the satisfaction of practising accompaniments to art songs which I find most rewarding.  However, today was little different.  Today was sight-reading day.  Something at which I can safely say am woefully substandard.  I’ve never been a good sight-reader; but, years of inadequate practise has definitely left me found wanting in this area.  So, I’ve anew on a campaign to start going through my library and just read through some of this stuff.  Today I started with the complete song cycle by Kathleen Lockhart Manning Sketches of Paris, from which comes her most noted song “In the Luxembourg Gardens.”  I love this music and all the other songs from that group of women from the turn of the 20th Century I like to refer to as Women Composers with Three Names.  So, I read through them a few times and definitely plan to include them with my other songs by Mildred Lund Tyson, Elinor Remick Warren, Mary Turner Salter, and Teresa del Riego.  Now all I have to do is find a singer (preferably high voice since those are usually the original keys) to do these things.  If you singers out there don’t know these composers and their songs, you would be wise to look them up (among others e.g., Clara Edwards, Lily Strickland, Alice Barnett, etc.).  They wrote eminently singable songs with a truly sympathetic ear for the voice.

Then I actually read through some Schubert Moments Musicaux D.780 (Op. 94 #’s 1,2,3 & 5) and #1 from Drei Klavierstücke D.946 (Bärenreiter Edition of course).  Actual piano music!  And guess what?  It was not a displeasurable experience.  They’re easier than I had anticipated.  I might even enjoy some of this stuff if I’m not careful.

Of course a day can’t go by without something to despond me.  And lo it was, of course, an organ work.  Again for the second year now, because of my current circumstances (i.e., without an organ on which to play), I found myself relearning what I think is Jean Langlais’ finest work, La Nativité.  It is a work of such sublime elegance and beauty I find it beyond the dreams of inspiration.  I wish I could describe how its sheer unaffected, delicate beauty moves me.  It is because of that inexplicable beauty I used play it every year on Christmas Eve.  I loved sharing this precious gem of a piece.  So, as I was looking through it again sans pedale, in a futile preparation of the upcoming season,  I became quite depressed when I came to the realisation that, yet, another year will pass without my being able to share this exquisite little masterpiece.  It breaks my heart. It is times like this I wish I had never, NEVER become an organist.  It’s as if you’ve had the love of your life, since you were 12, taken from you and no one — no one who can — will help bring her back to you.  

American Music on the Radio on an American Holiday

Being the curmudgeon that I am, modern technology doesn't generally impress me; and on those occasions where it has, such as Facebook, I have ultimately found it wanting (more about that some other time).  Nevertheless, there are those instances in which technological advancements have not only impressed me, but have actually proven to be most useful.  A case in point: internet radio.  Through the glories of digital technology I now can listen to virtually any broadcast radio station, plus any station which is solely designed to be heard on the internet through streaming, much of it via iTunes.  On any Wednesday I could be listening to a Choral Evensong on BBC Radio 3, or  All Night Classics on the ABC (Australia), or L'Air du Temps on RTBF (Belgium), or something on WFMT, VPR, WRTI, WGBH, WQXR, MPR, or any of the exclusive online services such as Organlive, Connoisseur Classics, or RadioIO Classical, or any of countless live streams available.  That doesn't include podcasts of programmes I may have missed but can listen to at a later date.

I realise this all sounds terribly prosaic, but there is a point to this:  being able to listen to so many radio stations, especially American broadcast stations, I've managed to get a sense of overview as to their idiosyncrasies and programming styles.  American classical music stations are now almost exclusively within the purview of Public Radio.  The result being a certain blandness and predictability.  I have found that, just like pop music today, there is almost nothing which distinguishes one broadcast classical music station from another.  It's all very generic with a heavy emphasis on Baroque music, shorter works from other periods and (UGH!) the excerpting of single movements from larger works (a mortal sin in my book), and of course, the avoidance of most 20th and 21st Century music (the exceptions I need not mention here).  Baroque is big because (like it or not), with a tiny number of notable exceptions, it has a certain sameness to it; for the other stuff it's the usual top 40 Classics.

Then there are the announcers who, are either so musically illiterate they can't even read the liner notes properly including the persistent mispronouncing of names or musical terms.  Then there are the "scholars" who blather on about how extraordinary a piece is, or what a simply marvellous performance we had just heard.  I've become exasperated by the "commentaries" by these morons. I really don't need to have Jill Pasternak of WRTI tell me how beautifully Lang Lang played a Chopin prelude, since I happen to think that Lang Lang is a charlatan; or, Alan McLellan of WGBH telling me what a great interpreter of Aaron Copland Leonard Bernstein was.  Thank you, I already knew that.

Nevertheless, there is one broadcast station that stands out on uniquely American holidays.  On those days — Memorial Day, July 4th and Thanksgiving — to their abiding credit WRTI in Philadelphia (90.9 FM) devotes practically their entire classical broadcast day (6:00 a.m. — 6:00 p.m.) to American composers in a comprehensive way that others don't.  Of the eight broadcast stations to which I have traditionally listened: MPR (Minnesota Public Radio), WGBH (Boston), VPO (Vermont Public Radio), WFMT (Chicago), WQXR (New York), WETA (D. C.), WWFM (Central N.J.), WRTI (Philadelphia) only the last one devotes its time almost exclusively to American music on these uniquely American holidays.  The only other station that does this sort of thing is the online classical stream originating from WHRO in Norfolk, Virginia: Connoisseur Classics, which, of course, is only an online service.

So, why am I making such a fuss over what might seem to some as borderline musical jingoism?  Because, when it comes to American classical music I guess I do have an almost fanatical zeal.  America musically came of age in the 20th Century.  Having been spared the exorbitant loss of life and destruction by entering World War I late in the game and not experiencing it on home soil, and by the stern shepherding during the 20's and later of Nadia Boulanger,  America was blessed with two generations of  stunning talent (a list of which would far exceed the scope of this article), most of whom we never get to hear in the concert hall and rarely on the radio or computer during the rest of the year.  So, I say kudos to WRTI during these distinctive holidays — Greg Whiteside's inane pomposity, Jill Pasternak's sycophantish blather and the unremitting "non-ads" (under the guise of "support" announcements) notwithstanding — Dave Conant and Jack Moore are to be applauded  for their promotion of what is probably America's greatest yet least appreciated contribution to cultural enrichment of humankind.

Changed My Mind

After some consideration and the fact that Blogspot won't support my examples, I've decided to just post any thoughts about the Franck Choral #3 strictly here without examples just for my own edification.  My attempt to provoke some thought on how to approach the piece has... well, let's say... not worked.  I shouldn't expect anyone to seriously consider my ideas (no matter how well thought), since I'm not "famous" or "established."  So be it.  If anyone IS interested in my thoughts you know to come here.

Franck a minor update

Not much other than to say it's become more involved than I thought.  If I was giving a masterclass on this I could demonstrate what I'm trying say.  As it stands, since I don't have an organ at my disposal at the moment I force to use excessively detailed verbal language with piksters.  Therefore, Part II will only go up to the cadence to the "chorale."

Trinity Sunday at Church of the Advent, Boston

I say, when it comes to feast days in the Christian Year, Church of the Advent does it right.  We went to high mass there today in celebration of Trinity Sunday and it was glorious.  Starting with a very stylish yet, imaginative, rendering of J. S. Bach's of Allein Gott din der Höh sei Ehr, BWV 664 (I think it was Ross Wood playing) and the opening hymn Nicea, (Trinity Sunday without Nicea would be like Christmas without Adeste Fidelis).

The Ordinary was the Missa Deus omnipotens  by 16th Century Franco-Flemish polyphonic composer Thomas Crécquillon, who was previously unknown to me, and was an exquisite surprise.  The Communion motet was With all our hearts and mouths by Tallis.  Going into detail is unnecessary here.  All you need to know is that when the liturgy, with all the "smells & bells" as they say, is done with the seamlessness the Church of the Advent, with glorious 16th Century polyphony and plainsong  perfectly sung, and marvellous organ playing, THAT is what worship is all about.  It's not entertainment, it's not just happy clappy jumping up and down senseless emotional release, it's worship.  It's communing with one's god to make yourself a better, deeper, more enlightened person.  

Oh, by the way, the mass ended with a solemn plainchant Te Deum with a few change ringing handbells and incense.  The postlude, as a result, was Duruflé's reconstruction of Tournemire's Improvisation sur le Te Deum  played by Dr. Dwyer himself.  Perfect.