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NaNoWriMo - Winner 2007!

On October 31, I jumped in with both feet and signed up for the National Novel Writing Contest. NaNoWriMo runs each November.

Check out the NaNoWriMo Web Site.

The challenge is to write 50,000 words of original fiction within the 30 days of November. That’s 1,667 words a day.

No, it’s not about refining the craft or advancing the cutting edge of literature. It’s about pushing yourself to accomplish something you thought impossible. It’s about finally executing on the daydream and wish you’ve thought and uttered a hundred times.

The genius of the project is that there’s litterally nothing but bragging rights to be won. So, there’s no real incentive to cheat. I like it.

On November 28, I hit the target, chalking up 50,186 words. Here’s a link to my profile page (useful as long as the NaNoWriMo server us up) where you can see the title of my novel and my word-count.

So, maybe someday you’ll see a blog post about me getting this novel published, but first it needs a good rewrite :)

NaNoWriMo - Large

Satie: Complete Piano Works

I recently listened through a 6-disc collection of the entire corpus of Erik Satie’s piano works on the Naxos Music Library.

About the Author

Alfred Éric Leslie Satie (1866–1925) is considered one of the premiere avante-guard composers of the late 1800s-early 1900s. His works have been viewed as prophetic of, or at least precursor to, all sorts of musical trends. He preferred to describe himself as a technician (”Gymnopedist”) rather than a musician.

Probably his best known compositions are his three Gymnopedies. His piano music is very sympathetic to modern sensibilities, offering more of a mood or background music approach rather than melodic standards. Satie used the term “furniture music” to describe some of his work.

About the Music

Satie’s piano compositions tend to be short. Unlike Bach or Beethoven, he offered simple-sounding melodies and harmonies with few displays of virtuosity.

Olaf Hojer offers an excellent, crisp, and insightful performance of these pieces. While I can’t say that I enjoy all of Satie’s piano works, I did enjoy all of Hojer’s playing of them as captured and produced by the Swedish Society Discofil label.

Hojer’s liner notes are available on a Web site devoted to Erik Satie and his work (http://www.af.lu.se/~fogwall/article.html). For a biography of the pianist, who is a renowned Satie expert, visit this site (http://www.af.lu.se/~fogwall/olof.html).

Here are some brief thoughts I penned while listening to these discs: 

Disc 1 - NML catalogue #SCD1070 - covers “The Gymnopedist” period (1884-1890). Hojer captures Satie’s music with a measured, thoughtful interpretation that does justice to the pieces.

Disc 2 - NML catalogue #SCD1071 - covers “The Rosicrucian Music” (1893-1895). Many of these pieces border on the simplistic…sounding little better than amateur two-finger piano ramblings…but then some chording appears and the next few notes fit in better than an amatuer can hack… On the whole, I found these simplistic, in the sense that when they did have a melody it was fairly predictable, or it sounded rather amateur. The sonic space wasn’t particularly interesting.

Disc 3 - NML catalogue #SCD1072 - covers “The Velvet Gentleman” era (1896-1904). Beautiful music, melodies that evoke affection, I enjoyed this disc.

Disc 4 - NML catalogue #SCD1073 - covers yet another phase in Satie’s compositions, “Musiques intimes et secrètes” (1905-1912). Enjoyable.

Disc 5 - NML catalogue #SCD1074 - offers the final chronological segment, titled “Piano Pieces with Stories” (1913-1915). In these pieces, I sense some structure. Though atmospheric rather than melodic, Satie offers just that bit of coherence that differentiates his work from the many “New Age” piano composers he could be said to have inspired. For example, I recently listened to several CDs of Michael Jones’ work (on the Narada label) between discs in the Satie collection. I found the return to Satie was quite refreshing.

Disc 6 - NML catalogue #SCD1075 - offers “Piano Pieces, Music for Piano Duet.” Again, enjoyable.

After a group of friends and I discussed Voormeij’s painting, we forwarded our impressions to the artist. He offers a gracious response and expansion on his thoughts about Abstract Art and Classical Music.

Enjoy!

_______________ 

Hello Vince,
 
Thank you and your ‘gang’ for taking the effort to discuss my work. When I received your email I was so very keen to answer you immediately, but I was struck with a power outage!

Before I reply to your question, I would like to point out that both my father and grandfather were professional violinists. That among a number of other factors influenced my life and outlook. I was trained in Amsterdam in the traditional style of painting and ‘discovered’ abstract painting during my Montreal master studies in 1970.
 
Music and abstract art
An appropriate example of what I mean by comparing non-textual music with abstract painting would be Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 in F major, op. 68 ,”The Pastoral.”
 
My father frequently explained to me as a child Beethoven’s interpretation of emotions and feelings… “In a letter to Therese Malfatti in the summer of 1808, Beethoven said, ‘How happy I am to be able to walk among the shrubs, the trees, the woods, the grass and the rocks! For the woods, the trees and the rocks give man the resonance he needs.’   Beethoven’s great love of nature, the delight in strolling through the woods of Heilllingenstadt, the fact that he always found his equilibrium in the heart of nature, all these led to the creation of his sixth symphony.”

Whenever I listen to the Pastoral, I can ’see’ and ‘feel’ the sunshine, the wind and the storm. The lightning and the cuckoo are so very obvious that it almost irritates me. I say ‘almost’ as I do love it at the same time. Very confusing really. I aim for the very same in my paintings.

When I receive emotions through a conversation or an experience I often ’store’ those feelings. Then when I stand in front of my easel and look at a blank canvas, those emotions filter through my actions on the canvas with paint. Sometimes I even start with charcoal a realistic drawing and then to the dismay of my daughter, paint over that with abstract movements.

What I enjoy when listening to ‘abstract’ music is mainly that I’m free to interpret the sounds myself. It makes no difference to me listening to Bach or Ginger Baker’s drum solo. I don’t always like being told what to listen for. And there again I falter, because I do like songs by Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan etc. And I genuinely love the texts.

Therefore I would tell my students that the comparison of abstract art and music could be held most strongly with non-textual music.
 
Now the painting, “A Man’s Voice”
I tried to show how a particular man’s voice would ‘look like’ when it’s made visual. In this case I had in mind the voice of a very good friend. He sounds sharp, crating and distant. If one would judge him solely on his voice, he would have very few friends. The beauty is, that he is really a sweet, very sensual and intelligent man. Hence some of the red showing through.
 
How does one make any sound or emotion visual? Indeed many emotions can be found with the work by artist such as Norman Rockwell. Emotions that I too enjoy. But I receive a greater thrill from works by Rothko or De Kooning.

I suppose when all is said and done, we are in the end left with ourselves and our own feelings, pains and happiness. We all try to give some form to our ideas and experiences. Some will write poetry or a novel. Still others will be great orators. I love to quote Tolsoy when he wrote his treatise on “What is art?’  “Art is a transmission of feelings”.
 
My regards to you and your friends,

Hoping to hear a reaction on my ramblings. (Please remember that I’m Dutch).

Peter

_______________ 

For the first two posts in the discussion, see:

Painting and Music: Peter John Voormeij (Part 1)
Painting and Music: Peter John Voormeij (Part 2)

In “Painting and Music: Peter John Voormeij (Part 1),” we looked at a painting by Voormeij. Now that you’ve had a chance to appreciate his work, navigate to this link and watch the video (top of the page). It’s only about 9 minutes. Feel free to watch it all, or stop at 3 minutes (2m53s, more or less) where you’ll have heard the portions I’d like to reference.

Don’t worry, I’ll wait :)

Video Highlights

23s to 1m16s - Voormeij discusses the nature of abstract art and suggests that true abstraction requires a mastery of reality (perceived reality, anyway). Without knowing what seems to constitute reality, how can you abstract from it?

1m54s to 2m53s - Ted Lederer invites Voormeij’s response to the common objection to abstract art (”My five-year-old could do that!”). Voormeij answers by relating abstract art to classical music. Here is the nugget for our discussion.

A Few Definitions

First, let me offer a few definitions as I understand them (sufficient for our discussion).

1) Realism is the attempt to artistically reproduce an image, a sound, words. The product is not the original instance of the image, sound, or utterance…but one so similar that the viewer, hearer, listener perceives it to be an exact representation. Hence, Voormeij comments about realism in art that eventually a camera can do better. The biographer reproducing a conversation may choose to attempt to relate very word, as it was said. The words on the page are not the original conversation, but what the author intends the reader to believe is an exact reproduction.

2) Impressionism is the attempt to artistically recreate an image, sound, or words while avoiding reproducing them exactly. The product in many ways reflects the original, but can in no way be mistaken for the original. Hence, Claude Monet’s paintings - they look how such a scene might appear on a bright day through squinted, blurry eyes. They capture the essence (colors, distinction between shapes such as a parasol and a lady), but eyes-wide-open they certainly don’t look like the original.

3) Abstraction is the attempt to artistically recreate the effect of an image, sound, or words with little or no parallels to the original. When a storyteller, relating to friends what the roar of the crowd at the hockey game sounded like, he utters a “hhhhharrrrhhhh” (basically exhales and constricts the back of the throat to emit a sound not unlike a crowd roaring). But there is no part of a constricted exhalation that actually recreates the original sound nor does it preserve some of the tone, volume, or distinction. Abstraction requires the artist to interpret the original, derive some values from it, and decide how to represent those in a different way that still conveys the same value (see Voormeij’s discussion of Mondriaan from 3m53s to 5m40s, where he describes this kind of process).

Personally, I’m not sure I understand where the line between Impressionism and Abstraction lies, nor whether my understanding or example (above) are adequate for this discussion. So, I offer these thoughts to you in all their flawed immediacy.

Four Thoughts For Discussion

1) How is Beethoven’s Fifth an abstraction (especially in the famous theme) rather than realism or impressionism? With his Fifth, what is Beethoven’s model from which he is abstracting, what values has he selected and translated, and how could we find out?

2) Classical music exploits mathematical relationships between audible pitches. It takes advantage of a complex notational system to visibly capture the audible for others to reproduce. Composers employ standard permutations with this toolset to construct harmonies, inversions, etc… In many ways, the ear seems the secondary tool for creating an aural experience. In contrast, while painting also enjoys a rich toolset of pallates, measurements, etc…I am not familiar with tools that translate the visual into, say, an audible medium. Instead, abstract art creates in the visual and is described in the visual.

How would visual art be enhanced by a notation perceived by a sense other than sight?How could such a notation facilitate reproduction of the abstraction?

3) In spite of complex toolsets, I (mistakenly or otherwise) think of creativity as an act of intuition, not mathematics. I picture Mozart humming, leaving it to Solieri to notate (sorry for the Amadeus reference). We frequently hear musicians whose style violates the notation in appealing ways, creating their own approach to the music. I can hardly imagine Peter John Voormeij using a ruler to measure the reds and yellows and achieve an exact frequency to create balance. I expect he gauges by sight the intensity and proportions. And yet in both Mozart and Voormeij’s cases, they mastered the toolsets of their craft. What is the relationship between mastery of musical notation (the tools) and the ability to abstract with music?

4) When I think of realism, I hear the French (thanks, Patty) Horn from the opening of Anton Bruckner’s 4th (”Romantic”) symphony which sounds like a hunting horn. It’s a one-for-one relationship, the horn sounds like a horn (though the rest of the piece is far from realism as defined in this post). I also picture Norman Rockwell’s paintings. In both cases, they reproduce the thing represented - no meta-data (such as textual explanations) are required to interpret them, so long as the viewer has seen or heard such things before.

With Impressionism, again picture a Claude Monet painting, very little or no meta-data should be required to understand what is being represented. The connection with “the real” will be less immediately obvious than in Realism.

But, with Abstraction, what is the interpretive role of meta-data (particularly textual explanation of context or authorial intent)? If classical music is abstract, how can we interpret it without context?

We relied on Peter John Voormeij’s contextual title to interpret “A Man’s Voice.” I could not have interpreted the painting without it. Even with a title, I am unable to immediately interpret Voormeij’s “A Painter’s Victory” (scroll down, it’s next to “A Man’s Voice”). I want more context.

Similarly, I often cannot “understand” Beethoven, Bach, or Shostakovich, even if I can “enjoy” the combinations of sounds they create. What are they abstracting?

So, I want more context…but then again, I don’t.

We have now arrived at a classic struggle of classical music interpretation. In some sense, the piece itself invites appreciation and generates value without its context. What is this value? How is it defined? Surely it must, for appended explanations tend to be rewritten or forgotten. So, I want to “understand” without context.

Yet, in another sense, the piece may be more approachable, comprehensible, and valuable to the consumer who understands its context. What details about the life of its author and the history of the piece are truly applicable and add insight? Which contextual details lead toward misinterpretation rather than shed light on the author’s intent? And so, I do want context.

Whew! That’s heady stuff!

Just For Fun

I’ll close by suggesting that you go back and watch the video from 5m54s to 6m5s. Voormeij provides a few seconds of additional context regarding “A Man’s Voice”.

Does this help you interpret the work? Is interpretation defined as “guessing the author’s intent” or “divining the thing that has been abstracted”? In what sense is there a universal interpretation that doesn’t require knowing (or being able to know) either?

Here’s the link to Voormeij’s Web site.

I saw this picture on the Elliott Louis Gallery (Vancouver) Web site.

This picture really struck me. I want to share it with you. (I promise we’ll relate this to classical music.)

By itself it seems an abstract representation of a physical object like ice-cubes or glass. But, the title provides meta-data that creates context and suggests a game: interpretation.
Click on image to view larger image in new window

A Man’s Voice
30 x 36 Inches
acrylic on canvas

by Peter John Voormeij

Opening observation: The title (”A Man’s Voice”) would seem to refer to vocal qualities such as timbre, pitch, tone, volume, and tenor (either of a particular man or men in general).

1) In what way do the colors, shapes, and textures strike you as a description and commentary on “a man’s voice”?

2) Which contexts into which a man (or men) speak does this picture best describe, which contexts does it miss?

3) What attitude toward a man’s voice does this painting portray (e.g. critical, adoring, dispassionate analysis…)?

In the second post, we’ll look at an interview with Voormeij and find him building a parallel between abstract art and classical music.

(Click here for Part 2)

About the Author

Dmitri Shostakovich is the quintessential Soviet-era Russian composer, having scored dozens of films and created 15 Symphonies. You can use the blog search bar on the right to find our other posts about his work. 

About the Music

Shostakovich’s 9th, like his 5th, is fraught with Stalinesque atmosphere. Having composed Stalin-pleasing No. 5 to return from official censure, Shostakovich followed with three “serious” symphonies through the 2nd WW. As the war drew to a close, Stalin reportedly expected Shostakovich to compose a triumphal, domineering, boasting announcement of the triumph of the Soviet system over its foes.

Having read Shostakovich’s letters to Isaak Glikman, amongst other biographies, I remain unconvinced that Shostakovich embedded anti-communist codes into his music. Was Shostakovich anti-Stalinist? Definitely. Anti-Communist? Hardly.

So I have little trouble believing the story which tells us that Shostakovich prefered to tweak Stalin’s nose and so composed a light, exuberant symphony. Within 2 years, Shostakovich again faced official censure…and could only breathe relief after Stalin’s death in 1953.

I find Symphony No. 9 to be the most immediately likeable of Shostakovich’s symphonies. Compare No. 9 to No. 5 in which Shostakovich did penance by giving Stalin the required braggardly pomp, or No. 13 “Babi Yar” which deals with painfully serious issues in a strong and difficult choral form.

About the Discs

To thoroughly appreciate the work, I built a playlist of 6 different recordings available on the Naxos Music Library. First, I listened to them all in sequence to generally re-acquaint myself with the piece. Then, I re-arranged the tracks in movement order, so I could hear the 6 recordings of each movement back-to-back. This helped me hear differences in recording quality and interpretation.

The following orchestras were represented. I’ll assign them an abbreviation in ()s and note the Record Label in []s:

  1. Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra (SRSO) [Naxos] *
  2. Belgian Radio and Television Philharmonic Orchestra (BRTPO) [Naxos] *
  3. Scottish National Orchestra (SNO) [Chandos]
  4. Russian State Symphonic Orchestra (RSSO) [Chandos]
  5. Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra (NRPO) [BIS] *
  6. Russian National Orchestra (RNO) [Pentatone Classics]

Links with an “*” lead to the Naxos Web site, where you can listen to excerpts after completing a free registration. Otherwise, the links lead to the Naxos Music Library (NML), which requires a subscription (or institutional access).

Each of these discs presents a competent performance of the work. Any performance mistakes are hidden well enough to escape notice.

Quality and Interpretation Highlights

However, the discs vary in recording quality and interpretive appeal. A few thoughts on recording quality:

  • I found the two Naxos recordings somewhat muted, particularly the SSRO disc.
  • I liked the acoustic spaces captured on the SNO and RNO recordings.

Interpretive highlights: Some performances differed in the strength of tuba underlying the trumpets, the means by which a trombone might cut off or fade, and whether the director opted for a muted cymbal crash rather than a brassy cymbal crash. But, within the context of each piece I felt each offered successful performances that were well interpreted.

Differences in track lengths, as caused by differences in interpretation, also caught my attention. I noticed that for the Allegro (Mvmt I), Presto (Mvmt III), and Allegretto (Mvmt V) the variation in tempo between the six recordings amounted to about a 10% difference between extremes. In none of these movements did I feel that variation made a tangible difference. However, I was surprised by significant tempo variances amongst performances of the Moderato (Mvmt II) and of the Largo (Mvmt IV).

Moderato (Mvmt II): The spread between extremes in the Moderato amounted to 32% of the longer track. In other words, the longer track was nearly half-again the length, 47% longer, of the shortest performance. We’re talking about the NRPO turning in a 6m03s performance compared to the BRTPO delivering an 8m54s recording - a 3min spread. Moderato is a challenging tempo indicator and could mean moderately slow or moderately fast. The NRPO started with the slowest Allegro and essentially kept that pace with a fast Moderato. Alternatively, the BRTPO opened with one of the fastet Allegros, drew the tempo contrast by turning in a slow Moderato, and then lept into one of the fastest Prestos.

Largo (Mvmt IV): Peformances of the Largo presented narrower divergence with the SSRO offering a 3m08 rendition compared to the 3m56s from the RSSO. This spread amounts to 20%-25% but is less noticeable since we’re only talking about a 1 minute difference in 3 to 4 minutes rather than a 3 minute difference in 6 to 9 minutes.

Overall impressions: 

  1. I found the CSRO recording lethargic during the Largo. The interpretive choice to deliver weak horn/cymbal crashes in this movement may have been intentional, but the appeal was lost on me.
  2. The BRTPO peformance bogged down in the Moderato (see above discussion regarding Mvmt II), but was otherwise enjoyable.
  3. I liked the SNO performance the best. I recognize that most people prefer a jaunty pace over a lethargic one, so I’m trying not to base my favorable judgement of this recording merely on the fact that it’s generally the shortest. The rapid Allegro, Moderato, and Presto are beautifully contered by a moving Largo. This recording offers one of the longest Allegrettos, which gracefully builds from the pathos of the largo to a jaunty Allegretto. I also liked the clarity of the horn solo in the Presto.
  4. The RSSO turned in a solid performance with little to disgtinguish itself.
  5. The NRPO’s tempo didn’t vary enough, but marched along. This results in the longest Allegro, shortest Moderato, and almost longest Allegretto. In other words, it moves at a nice clip, but I would have preferred a more variation.
  6. I also liked the RNO rendition. While the Moderato at times bordered on lethargic, I liked the horn solo in the Presto (similar to my impression of the SNO’s offering here) and the brass sustains in the Largo (though I wonder if a Tuba goes missing on the 2nd sustained intro?)

Reading back over my thoughts, I can’t help but laugh a bit at myself as being more than a bit nitpicky. So, let me assure you that every one of these recordings will serve you well.

Disc Recommendation

If I were to own one of these recordings, I’d pick the Scottish National Orchestra under Neemi Jarvi’s baton. My second choice would be the Russian National Orchestra led by Yakov Kreizberg.

There you have it!

If you have a chance to listen to these tracks, let us know what you think in the comments (below). If you have a chance to compare the SNO or RNO’s performances to those led by Bernstein or Rostropovich or Haitink (for example) please offer a comment below as to how you think they fare.

A friend recently asked me for some classical piano recommendations. He doesn’t particularly care for purely “academic sounding” exercises, meaning he wants something with emotion and melody. Nor is he interested in easy-listening renditions of classical music replete with fake strings and horns.

I hear a lot of music via the Naxos Music Library, much more than I can consciously remember, which is why I make notes (see my Naxos List tab, above). From those notes, I compiled the following recommendations…

7 Enjoyable Classical Piano Discs

ELGAR: Piano Music (8.570166) - Edward Elgar was quite famous in the “British Light Music” circles for the kind of music akin to movie themes. He wrote “Pomp and Circumstance” - and was about as famous an English composer as you can get. This disc features quite a few slow, reflective pieces capped off by a series of variations on a theme.

SCHUMANN, R.: Works for Oboe and Piano (8.550599) - Robert Schumann is one of my top 3 favorite composers. Nice pieces…tragic life…everything you want in a composer :) Not everyone one of these pieces are relaxing, but the piano & oboe combo is captivating!

RODRIGO: Piano Music, Vol. 1 (8.557272) - Joaquin (Hoe-ah-keen) Rodrigo is another of my top 3 favorite composers. Blind from age 3, probably the most famous 20th century Spanish composer, who arguably brought back the guitar to the orchestral concert stage…just died in 1999. Not all of this is relaxing music, but it is passionate.

SCHUMANN, R.: Piano Sonatas Nos. 1 and 3 (8.554275) - This disc offers mostly fast pieces, AND it’s SCHUMANN :)

DEBUSSY: Works for Two Pianos, Four Hands (BIS-CD-526) - Of the opening 3 tracks, the middle piece is quick but the other two are quite slow. The music on this disc is really quite pretty…

BRAHMS: Four-Hand Piano Music, Vol. 16 (8.55584 8) - Brahms arranged some Schumann and Schubert pieces to be played on 1 piano, 4 hands (2 people, obviously <grin>). While enjoyable, sometimes the technical aspects seem to override compelling melody…

CLEMENTI: Early Piano Sonatas, Vol. 2 (8.557695) - A contemporary of Mozart, these works date from the 1780s forward. Though played on piano, you can hear the Baroque harpsichord influences. If you don’t like jaunty harpsichord music, you probably won’t like this disc…

“And now for something you’ll really enjoy…” (apologies to Rocky the Squirrel):

As an afterthought, I suggested two unrelated discs. If you’ve not enjoyed much Asian music, particularly the combination of European orchestra with Asian sound, check these out…

What are your favorite classical piano discs?

Feel free to leave a comment.

SCHUMANN, R.: Piano Concerto in A Minor / Introduction and Allegro, Op. 92 and Op. 134

About the Composer:

Robert Shumann (1810-1856) lived an emotionally troubled life, struggling with depression and eventually dying at age 46, two years after a mental breakdown.

About the Music:

As with most everything I’ve heard so far of Schumann, I enjoyed this music as well.

In the 3rd movement (Allegro Vivace) of the Piano Concerto in A Minor, a melodic phrase stands out to my ears that appears at 2m15s-2m20s and is repeated at 2m30s-2m35s, 6m51s-6m56, and 7m5s-7m10s.

Rachmaninoff: Concertos Nos. 1 & 3

About the Composer: A familiar name in the world of classical music, Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943) was one of Russia’s most well known romantic composers. Despite suffering from severe depression after receiving harsh reception from some of the critics of his time, Rachmaninoff has established a reputation as one of the greatest architects of piano solos and concertos.

About the Music: Rachmaninoff created four piano concertos during his lifetime, but it is his second and third that have achieved the greatest level of popularity. The second concerto is a perennial favourite of orchestras worldwide, and its successor has long been praised for its haunting melodies and challenging intricacies that can confound even the most seasoned pianists. The fourth concerto seems to be regarded as a lesser work and tends to be neglected. His first concerto, created in 1891 and then revised in 1917, however, has been performed by a number of artists and but has never managed to reach the prominence held by its two eldest brothers even though it shares many of the same motifs. When I first listened to a 1957 recording of Rachmaninoff’s first concerto executed by American pianist Byron Janis and Chicago Symphony Orchestra conductor Fritz Reiner, I was not enthralled, but after a while I began to better identify the unique aspects of the piece that I had previously overlooked.

Like the second and third concertos, Rachmaninoff begins with a melancholic and compelling theme that is featured throughout the first movement. I actually prefer this passage to the one present in the second concerto since it bears that air of mystery which really captures your attention.

33s-rachmaninoff-piano-concerto-1-janis-mvmt1a.mp3

Even if the music in the introductory movement is generally downcast, Rachmaninoff occasionally includes some small yet focused sparkling beams into the work.

39s-rachmaninoff-piano-concerto-1-janis-mvmt1b.mp3

The second movement is fairly cold in nature, but as creative composers such as Rachmaninoff demonstrate, cold music needn’t be equated with monotonous-sounding melodies.

39s-rachmaninoff-piano-concerto-1-janis-mvmt2.mp3

As with the final movement in the third concerto, the tone of the first’s third movement veers away from gloominess and allows Rachmaninoff to craft an upbeat, boisterous finale. The passage here exhibits some of the uplifting notes which lead towards the conclusion.

25s-rachmaninoff-piano-concerto-1-janis-mvmt3.mp3

The first piano concerto is one of those pieces that did not immediately capture my interest, but after investing some time into careful listening, it has become one of my favourite Rachmaninoff works.

Prokofiev: Romeo and Juliet

About the Composer: Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) was one of the most prominent Twentieth Century Russian composers. Probably best known for his didactic children’s work Peter and the Wolf, Prokofiev also invested his energies into creating symphonies, piano concertos, ballets, and numerous shorter pieces.

About the Music: I’m not averse to discussing and analyzing Shakespeare, but I’ve never been very fond of Romeo and Juliet, one of the dramatist’s more celebrated tragedies. The play has suffered from overexposure, and romance just doesn’t garner my attention; I’d rather observe a Danish prince work to uncover the sinister machinations of his uncle than watch a couple of youngsters loiter at the side of a balcony and utter the phrases that would later find their way into the shoddy Valentine’s Day cards available at your local drugstore. But my disinterest in the play didn’t prevent me from acquiring Prokofiev’s 1938 ballet based on the famous tale. For some time I’ve wanted to become better acquainted with Prokofiev’s compositional style, so I figured that Lorin Maazel and the Cleveland Orchestra could assist me with their 1973 recording of this lengthy classic. The risk was worth taking.

Since the ballet encompasses two discs, I’ll just provide a commentary on distinctive segments in each of the four acts:

Act I

After a serene introduction, the action begins in the streets of Verona, but it doesn’t take long for discord to emerge between the Montagues and the Capulets. Violins tend to grate my nerves when they are played in an extremely shrill manner but they are employed very nicely here to convey the brisk, energetic movements of the feuding family members as they scuffle. The Prince, whose authority is represented with strong brass and a steady marching beat, intervenes and ceases the conflict. The focus shifts to Juliet in the next scene, and Prokofiev provides a soft and playful exploration of her character as she prepares for the masquerade ball. It is then followed with a pronounced, eloquent tune befitting of the decorum of the assembly. The Dance of the Knights, an ominous piece for which Prokofiev is highly regarded, appears shortly afterward. Several variations of this piece can be found throughout the ballet. Romeo’s vivacious friend Mercutio is introduced with a short, appropriately fast-paced tune. When I first heard this ballet, I thought that Prokofiev would have something truly riveting in store for when the two title characters exchange their passions for each other at the balcony, but I was somewhat underwhelmed. Repeated listenings have allowed me to better appreciate the quality of this segment and its relation to the other portions.

Act II

A dazzling array of strings, chimes, woodwinds, and other nifty instruments I can’t identify open the second act, which begins in the marketplace where numerous festivities occur. This act features most of the ballet’s most upbeat pieces, including the Dance of the Mandolins. It’s not my favourite piece, but it is the first time I’ve heard the instrument in a classical work. Solemn music accompanies Romeo and Juliet’s covert wedding ceremony. Romeo’s second encounter with Tybalt, during which Mercutio is murdered, includes an intense variation of the frenzied violin playing heard earlier, along with some stirring pieces that capture Romeo’s fury quite well.

Act III

The pieces here are somber yet highly captivating. As Romeo has departed the city after slaying Tybalt and is unable to see his lover, the mood is downcast and contemplative; many of the earlier pieces are revisited, though they don’t seem repetitive. The mandolins reemerge in the Morning Serenade but are more low-key.

Act IV

As one might expect, Prokofiev bestows the final act with the most gripping music in the entire ballet. The high-pitched strings give you the sense that you’ve taken a few too many steps past an unfurled roll of crime scene tape, and the performance from the brass seems as sharp as Romeo’s “happy” dagger! The finale borrows from earlier leitmotifs to provide a soft requiem for the young couple.

Ever since I first listened to Romeo and Juliet I’ve occasionally thought that it would have been interesting if Prokofiev had created ballets for other Shakespeare works. How would Falstaff’s jovial personality be represented in a Henry IV, Part 1 ballet? What about a score for King Lear? I know it sounds somewhat infeasible because it’s doubtful that you could get the title character to dance about convincingly considering his age, but can you imagine the music Prokofiev would conjure for the scene in which Gloucester’s eyes are gouged out by the merciless Cornwall? Yikes!

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