The curtain opened on white shag and a small black and white TV displaying a snowy noise pattern in a toppled apartment. Stage left there were two stacked mattresses and three sets of bare feet sticking through a sheet that wasn't long enough to cover them. Even during the overture we were in a dream. A sexy dream.
In this young and vibrant production by Gotham Chamber Opera directed by Christopher Alden and conducted by Neal Goren, Scipione's dream began in bed with two beautiful women; Fortuna and Constanza. It turned to a nightmare with his almost immediate realization that he needed to choose between them.
Written at age 16, Il sogno di Scipione was the 8th of 22 operas by Mozart, depending on how you classify and count the works. It has seldom been presented in live performance but we have reason for hope that Gotham has helped to change that fact. This is the second time the company has produced Il Sogno di Scipione. The opera marked a trajectory for this company when it was the very first opera that it produced; an occasion which was also the American premiere of the work. This occasion marked the 10th anniversary of the company.
Described by Mozart as a "dramatic serenade," the work must be presented continuously and lasts just under two hours. The challenges for staging the work are legendary; there are ten solo arias and no duets, trios, or ensembles of any kind save two interjections by a chorus. Each aria is as complex as a concerto movement and last 7 to 8 minutes. Each aria includes mind-bending coloratura and presents extremes of register that imagines singers to be instruments of the orchestra with keys and values.
This amazing cast was up to the vocal challenges. They sang the notes that were on the page, and many that were not; they added extra figures and ornaments in appropriate places. All of them took extended cadenzas as opportunities to unleash relevant and tasty but nonetheless fearsome vocal pyrotechnics, and all of them could act. Their collected performance was a testament to the high level of acting and role engagement that is possible with this new generation of young professional opera singers.
During Fortuna's first aria "Lieve sono al par del vento," the essential character of each of the two central women was developed. Susannah Biller sang the aria in a blaze of C major with both power and clarity as she also dressed and undressed several times. She expressed her character's capriciousness through assuming the personality of each costume in a sequence that would have been challenging even without singing. Biller made confidences audible.
While Biller was in motion, Constanza, played by Marie-Ève Munger was quietly moving through yoga postures on the opposite side of the stage. Constanza's mystical character in this production synced with the magical proficiency of Munger's awesome technique. She sang "Ciglio che al sol si gira" accurately in a breathtakingly fast tempo without losing any of its tenderness. "Biancheggia in mar lo scoglio" was given with a power and drama that showed that this girl next door had a kicking engine under the hood.
Tenor Michele Angelini as Scipione was most impressive in his final aria "Di' che se l'arbitra del mondo intero," where he sang some of the trickiest divisions in the entire opera and several quick high C's while tying a double windsor knot in his tie (without a mirror). When fully dressed he grabbed his briefcase, used it to break a hole through a wall, and exited. This corporate transformation ended the dream sequence without ruining it with completely rational explanation.
Tenor Arthur Espiritu as Publio, tenor Chad A. Johnson as Emilio, and Rachel Willis-Sørensen as Licenza filled out the rest of this first-rate cast.
I was only disappointed in the way that the second aria for Fortuna was staged. Dressed as a cocktail waitress, Fortuna scowled as she prepared drinks. Though the lyrics of this aria are menacing, the music is a clear reference to Constanza's first aria. The two arias share the same key, the same scoring for strings only, and even framing pitches and contour shapes. It is as if Mozart wanted to show that Fortuna had elements of Constanza within her, as Constanza has elements of Fortuna in the contrasting aria that follows it. Mozart seems to say that even the women of our dreams are more complex than they seem at first.
In the large-scale design of the design of the opera each of the main characters gets two arias that break in slightly shifted mirror symmetry on either side of Emilio's aria. Emilio, because he is at the center gets only one, and he is mirrored at the close by Licenza's aria. The order that Constanza and Fortuna sing arias in this second half is shifted from the pattern that would have happened naturally. The shift highlights the idea that Fortuna realized she was losing ground to Constanza and needed to show that she had tenderness within her as well; even if it was only in music and not in the libretto. The cocktail Fortuna did not serve any difference in personality and that made the entire second half feel that much less complex, less strange, and more predictable. At any rate it was certainly too unchanging for this mistress of the capricious.
"Scipio is not the subject, we are," sang Willis-Sørensen as Licenza during the epilogue finale of the work. She made eye contact with everyone in the audience and explained that Scipio's name "is a disguise for the respect I feel for you." She acknowledged the musicians in the pit and the first-rate continuo players. Mozart, master of last minute transformations, reconciliations, and forgiveness, scored appreciation into this opera and this production allowed it to be shared.
Individual members of the chorus each lifted enough of the curtain to sing the final choral celebration as Willis-Sørensen gathered her shopping bags, returned the apartment to its former toppled condition and disappeared.
Like any good dream this production asked more questions than it answered. And it gave us a dream-cast to ask them. It was a significant achievement by this relevant and fascinating opera company.
Showing posts with label Mozart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mozart. Show all posts
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Program Notes for November 2011 Concerts
An Evening of Mozart
When Mozart died on the 5th of December 1791, he was just two months short of his 36th birthday. You can measure this span against your own life if you were born during, or before, 1976. To many of us the year of the bicentennial celebration doesn’t seem that long ago.
This program allows us the opportunity to compare works written at the beginning, middle, and end of Mozart’s life. Unlike many composers, his compositional voice was immediately identifiable, and he wrote more than 636 works within his lifetime.
Compare the musical language heard in Symphony No. 23 with the music of the 5th Violin Concerto. The compositional style of the Violin Concerto, written at age 19 and two years after the Symphony, shows an ability to work within ever more sophisticated interrelationships. Fluency is evident in both works, but with each new work Mozart seemed ready to embrace a wider range of styles and a wider range of emotional experiences.
On the second half of the program we hear the greatest possible contrast in Mozart’s symphonic output: his 1st symphony (written in 1764) followed by his last (written in 1788). One of the important changes you will hear is in the size of the orchestra. Symphony No. 1 was written for a standard ensemble called á8, meaning there are eight different parts that need to be written (2 for the oboes, 2 for the horns, and one each for Violin I, Violin II, Viola, and Cello/Bass).
Symphony No. 41 “Jupiter” is written for the orchestra that would become the new standard in the late 18th and early 19th century, with woodwinds in pairs, horns, in this case trumpets, timpani, and strings. Mozart uses only one flute in the “Jupiter” Symphony because 18th century flutes had a tendency not to blend well in ensembles.
The change in ensemble from Symphony No. 1 to No. 41 reflects a change in technology made possible by general shifts within society during the 24-year gap between the two works. We might better understand this transformation by thinking of it as being analogous to changes in computing technology over the last 24 years.
Mozart uses both technologies to their highest potential, but the biggest difference between the two works is the impact made by the experience of living. Symphony No. 1 speaks with the optimism and blatant force of a boy who has discovered a freakish and seemingly unlimited music talent. “Jupiter” speaks with a voice seasoned by disappointments, disillusions, and even of failures.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 –1791)
Symphony No. 23 K. 181/162b
Instrumentation: 2 oboes, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, and strings.
Completed: May 19, 1773 in Salzburg
Most Recent Performance by GBS: January 27, 2001
This is one of the last works that Mozart wrote in his birth house at 9 Getreidegasse in Salzburg. The family was planning a trip to Vienna that summer in search of work for Wolfgang. They returned to Salzburg in the fall and moved into a larger house, in which Leopold ran a music shop on the other side of the Salzach River.
In preparation for the trip to Vienna, Mozart wrote several pieces that would show his potential. To listen to this symphony is to be given a chance to peek into the compositional portfolio of a young composer who was looking for work; this work a sonic resumé. Translated from sound into language it might look like this:
Objective: To obtain employment in Vienna with strong career potential.
• Prior work experience in Italy: This brief symphony is cast in the form of a three-section Italian opera overture with sharply contrasted music played without break.
• Strong communication and organizational skills: The first movement is full of energy and juxtapositions. You will hear abrupt contrasts between loud and quiet, high register and low registers, major and minor inflections. The music follows a sophisticated narrative unfolding. It reveals strength in being articulate.
• Introduced new products: The central movement is a lyrical movement that features an extended oboe solo. The oboe being used in the role of a lyrical operatic soloist is a new element in Mozart’s symphonic style
• Managed cross-functional teams: The finale introduces rustic music into the formal environment of the symphony. He does this by finding ways to blend popular and courtly gestures, changing the way each of them functions. The music proceeds in an orderly succession of four stanzas each of which begins in the rustic style.
Based on this symphonic resume, would you hire this person? The response from Vienna: “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”
Violin Concerto No. 5 K.219
Instrumentation: 2 oboes, 2 horns, and strings.
Completed: 1775 in Salzburg
Most Recent Performance by GBS: October 16, 2010
Having just returned from Munich where he wrote his first six piano sonatas, Mozart settled back into life in Salzburg by composing his opera Il rè pastore, several Masses, and the five violin concertos.
Listen for the entrance of the solo violin in the first movement. After an introduction for orchestra alone during which several themes and gestures are offered, time seems to slow and almost to stop. The tempo changes and the soloist enters with music which speaks of ecstasy and a gentle and elegant flowing motion.
In a sudden awakening the music snaps back into focus and goes about the standard concerto game, with several new ideas and figurations, introduced by the soloist, separated by music first heard in the orchestral introduction. The soloist gets a short break from playing at the end of the exposition.
Like each of the five violin concertos by Mozart, the development section can be identified by an abrupt shift to minor. The harmony pivots instantly into minor as the development begins, and the soloist likewise needs to be able to shift, also transitioning from playfulness into music that is sorrowful and filled with operatic inflections.
With a few flourishes the music returns to playfulness.
Quick shifting between emotional states is one of the hallmarks of the classical style, but does this particular shift have a larger meaning? Is the cheerful music that follows this passage the forced cheerfulness of an entertainer? Are we meant to hear with a new perspective after the passionate exclamations of the development?
The second movement Adagio is a study in poise and tranquility. It opens with an unusual diatonic figure set with simple harmonies that will be repeated throughout the movement like a mantra. After the orchestral introduction the soloist will play ideas that float breathlessly. Follow the sequence of these ideas carefully as this whole passage returns to frame the close of the movement. The centerpiece is another unexpected voyage into minor keys, more meditative than in the first movement.
The third movement is presented as a series of dances in a schematic rondo form where the opening dance returns three times in orderly fashion. Then the surprise for which this violin concerto is famous: its sudden and surprising imitation of Janissary music, which was a cultural memory of the Viennese that went back to the time when Turkish forces almost reached the city walls in 1683.
The Janissary passage that was inserted into this finale was developed from ballet music that Mozart had written two years earlier called Le gelosie del seraglio (Jealosies of the Harem) K 135a. Originally this music had been performed in between two acts of his opera Lucio Silla when it was first played in Milan. The storm music was written especially for this concerto.
Symphony No. 1 K. 16
Instrumentation: 2 oboes, 2 horns, and strings.
Completed: August-September 1764
Most Recent Performance by GBS: This is the first performance by our orchestra
It was at the house of the good Dr. Randal at 180 Ebury Street in Chelsea that Leopold Mozart took refuge during an illness that had life-threatening implications, having come upon him in a weakened state a little more than a year into the 3-year performing expedition with his family that has become known as the “Great Western Tour” (June 1763 – November 1766).
During the 51 days that the family spent with the Randals, the 8-year-old Wolfgang had the time to begin trying extended works, and completed his first two symphonies. “Remind me,” said Mozart to his sister Nannerl, “to give the horns plenty of good music.”
Leopold wrote to his landlord, Lorenz Hagenauer, in Salzburg to tell him of a performance of this symphony in London on February 21, 1965, and complained that he himself had to copy the score and created parts for the performance to avoid paying one shilling per sheet.
Wolfgang opened this symphony with an iconic figure: is a three-measure phrase set in octaves and punctuated by silence. It is a memorable gesture that immediately carved out a space in this world. Sudden quiet: two balanced phrases of classical suspensions pushed by hammer strokes in the bass that spring from a rest at the opening of each measure rather than at the end (as it was in the iconic fanfare).
Mozart repeats both the 3-measure fanfare and the two balanced phrases of suspensions before moving into a classical transition over a pulsing E-flat pedal in the bass. When the bass shifts we are in the key of B-flat major.
There is a cluster of themes in the dominant, an introductory gesture in falling, staccato scales, an active dance figure, and rising scales over tremolos in the violins. A clockwork cadence brings the first-half of the form to a close.
The second half of the work announces the 3-measure fanfare in B-flat, but when the opening sequence is repeated the music shifts into C minor. It seems like development, but this music will never reappear. The remainder of the events that we heard in the first half of the work are stated again, resolved into the fresh sounding key of E-flat major. This is a movement that stands on the very intersection between binary form and sonata structure.
The second movement Andante obsesses almost exclusively on a single texture with triplet repeated notes in the upper strings and a five-note figure in lower strings. Urgency is expressed through phrase lengths that are uneven—the first half of the movement being a 6-measure phrase followed by a 7-measure phrase and closing with a 9-measure phrase. If you listen carefully to the 1st oboe during the second phrase you will hear the notes [C, D, F, E] each sustained as a whole-note in cantus-firmus style. These same four pitches dominate the finale of Mozart’s “Jupiter Symphony.” Coincidence?
The third movement is a festive rondo where the returning material sounds like a variation of the gesture that opened the first movement. Four-note descending patterns, balanced later in the movement by 4-note ascending patterns comprise much of the material in the rondo [B] sections.
Symphony No. 41 K. 551
Instrumentation: 1 flute, 2 oboes, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings.
Completed: August 10, 1788 in Vienna
Most Recent Performance by GBS: March 4, 2006
If you remember one piece from your music appreciation class it is likely to be the “Jupiter Symphony,” which is one of the most analyzed works in the repertoire. Generations of musicians have been drawn to the prism-like patterns in this music, which seems able to move at will through authentic human emotions.
The nickname “Jupiter” did not come from Mozart himself, but most likely from Johann Peter Salomon, who is known to most musicians as the person who commissioned the twelve “London Symphonies” written by Haydn. Invoking the Olympian conception and scale of the work, the nickname became commonplace even in the early 19th century.
The “Jupiter” Symphony was composed during the seventeen days between July 25 and August 10 during 1788. It was composed in a set that also included the famous G minor symphony and Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major. Scholars believe that the three symphonies were written for the occasion of a performance in a new local casino.
C major was a key often associated with celebrations, and the “Jupiter” opens with a movement where celebratory marches alternate with quieter passages of entertainment, like the experience of walking through a fairground during carnival. The structure of the movement, with its false recapitulation and other unexpected harmonic deflections, speaks with the voice of a magician.
All is good. Well, maybe not. Listen for the moment, set off by an unexpected silence, when a loud C-minor chord appears. The startling sound is propelled by the timpani, as if Gustav Mahler had suddenly added a few measures to the score. Just as quickly the music shifts back to major and continues in celebration. But did we just glimpse the face behind the mask?
Moments later, another silence. Mozart introduces a new theme in opera buffo style – a self-quotation from an aria that Mozart had recently written called “Un bacio di mano” (K.581). “You are a little naive my beloved Don Pompeo,” sings the mature Monsieur Girò in the aria, “you need to figure out the ways of the world.”
The aria that Mozart quoted was written to be included in someone else’s opera. The aria was written to be included in “Le gelosie fortunate (Fortunate Jealousy)” by Pasquale Anfossi (1727-1797). Was Mozart addressing himself through this quotation? Though the tune is unmistakably cheery, perhaps the energy behind it was broken: Mozart picks up this tune again in the development section, where he eventually focuses on one fragment broken from the tune, pushing it through a maze of tonalities.
The second movement Andante Cantabile confronts the accelerated rate of speed of modern communication. Mozart opens with muted strings; a color that is subdued. He sings of innocence but is interrupted by loud chords and faster figuration. This movement further explores the outbursts of minor music from the first movement, and the unsettled quality of presentation lingers in the mind long after the music continues into major.
The Menuetto is a dance that shows how far the chromatic scale can lean before falling into place. The trio repeats a common progression of closing—over and over again. It says goodbye without actually leaving.
The infamous finale is built from a collection of themes that work like a crossword puzzle. Each theme is wonderful when heard alone, and as they combine they form new meanings. As each new idea appears, mark it in your mind. See if you can hear them as they return and begin to combine. During the final minutes of the movement five of the themes will combine and overlap several times, with each theme appearing at least once in each of the 5-voices into which the music will be divided.
Monday, November 29, 2010
K.550 (1788); Anthony Burgess superimposes "Mozart" and "Sex with the Sun King"
In "K.550 (1788)" by Anthony Burgess all four movements of the Mozart G minor symphony are used to mark attitudes or events from the relationship between Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette. I wrote an introductory blog entry about this here.
The first movement of the symphony harmonizes the story of the complex sexual consummation between the young lovers. Legend has it that they were unable to make love on the wedding night itself; and these things were of interest to the population and the paparazzi in a way that seems cruel but also very modern.
The Burgess "first movement" begins by focusing on Louis XIV. The opening section of the text is printed here.
Burgess imagines Louis pacing back and forth on the carpet as the music begins. He occasionally imitates melodic rhythms in the text as in "He himself, he himself, he himself trod," and often used musical developmental techniques and transformations in the sound of the text itself.
During the transition [0:34] Louis moves from his room to stand outside the door of Marie Antoinette. He is foiled: "Assert assert insert key. By foul magic wrong key. Not his key." Burgess riffs on the key to the door through the musical key of B-flat to which the symphony travels. B-flat major, key of the second theme group, will be the key of Antoinette.
The second theme group [2:04] is all about Antoinette. "SHE in room drinks off chocolate. She in bed still. Full sun catches elegant body." Alan Shockley remarked that the use of gender to describe sonata theme groups was a common practice. Here the second theme group describes only the female character.
Burgess steps outside his story to remark "Repeat all. To here." He has marked the repeat of the exposition [2:04] in his text. It is clever because the events he describes, the frustrations and contrasts in attitudes of the characters were repeated over weeks according to tradition.
The development section begins next [4:06]. The important thing to understand is that in Mozart's lifetime the word development was not in common use. At that time the section was most often called "Fantasia." Burgess sets the section as a mental fantasy of sex. And, because the music of this section is related only to themes from the first theme group--Burgess sets the text as "his" fantasy:
"Not repeat. He himself he himself he himself treads. As sun retreats (not satin sheets, not wool coverlet), as son of sun king dreams, late abed, of cowering. He himself he himself he him¬self sneers, transferred to violent darkness, asserts and hurts. He burns, he rips, claims loins. Lionlike claims he. Nay, see him now split, into he himself and he himself. Appalled, he himself asserting stasis (Plato, Aristotle, Thucydides, Xenophon set in busts’ frigidity — who says fragility? What voice in xenophone shrieks frangibility?), the parterre and shaved lawn, the semipiternal elms set in sempiternal order, the rents in good gold pieces (gold is always the key, but we shift now from key to key, stasis gone under, silk rent for the better fraction), sees he himself himself transformed as lust thrusts out trust. Untrussed he lustfully lustily thrusts. Hot iron slaked. She herself not there but transformed to palpable scream beneath. Teeth grind, grip. Faces at windows peer in horror, in horror fists at doors knock. All shed, what no shed shredded. Of loins lawfully possessed. Stone lioness on parterre parturiates. He himself observing he himself appalled. The sun sackcloth hides shamed face in willed darkness. He thrusts and floods. Flood floods nether caves.
Not so. Not yet. Not ever yet."
The recapitulation [5:24] is parallel to the exposition but modified to reflect changes made by Mozart.
The transition [5:56] no longer modulates to Antoinette's key but stays in the key of Louis: in G minor. "By bright magic right key. Yes, his key." Louis is in the room [6:37] and finally consummates the marriage; "Bare skin on bare skin slides, glides. Burn, lips. Loins conjoin."
The brief codetta [7:43] is set as another joining: now instead of he or she it is "they:"
"They two, now one, confront chill winds. They themselves, they themselves, they themselves tread bare boards, uncarpeted, unrugged, and the polished planks disclosed as wormgnawed, and beneath them a darkness not of the coupling pair made one but of the disorder which strikes the assertive chords of a pretense of order."
The first movement of the symphony harmonizes the story of the complex sexual consummation between the young lovers. Legend has it that they were unable to make love on the wedding night itself; and these things were of interest to the population and the paparazzi in a way that seems cruel but also very modern.
The Burgess "first movement" begins by focusing on Louis XIV. The opening section of the text is printed here.
Burgess imagines Louis pacing back and forth on the carpet as the music begins. He occasionally imitates melodic rhythms in the text as in "He himself, he himself, he himself trod," and often used musical developmental techniques and transformations in the sound of the text itself.
During the transition [0:34] Louis moves from his room to stand outside the door of Marie Antoinette. He is foiled: "Assert assert insert key. By foul magic wrong key. Not his key." Burgess riffs on the key to the door through the musical key of B-flat to which the symphony travels. B-flat major, key of the second theme group, will be the key of Antoinette.
The second theme group [2:04] is all about Antoinette. "SHE in room drinks off chocolate. She in bed still. Full sun catches elegant body." Alan Shockley remarked that the use of gender to describe sonata theme groups was a common practice. Here the second theme group describes only the female character.
Burgess steps outside his story to remark "Repeat all. To here." He has marked the repeat of the exposition [2:04] in his text. It is clever because the events he describes, the frustrations and contrasts in attitudes of the characters were repeated over weeks according to tradition.
The development section begins next [4:06]. The important thing to understand is that in Mozart's lifetime the word development was not in common use. At that time the section was most often called "Fantasia." Burgess sets the section as a mental fantasy of sex. And, because the music of this section is related only to themes from the first theme group--Burgess sets the text as "his" fantasy:
"Not repeat. He himself he himself he himself treads. As sun retreats (not satin sheets, not wool coverlet), as son of sun king dreams, late abed, of cowering. He himself he himself he him¬self sneers, transferred to violent darkness, asserts and hurts. He burns, he rips, claims loins. Lionlike claims he. Nay, see him now split, into he himself and he himself. Appalled, he himself asserting stasis (Plato, Aristotle, Thucydides, Xenophon set in busts’ frigidity — who says fragility? What voice in xenophone shrieks frangibility?), the parterre and shaved lawn, the semipiternal elms set in sempiternal order, the rents in good gold pieces (gold is always the key, but we shift now from key to key, stasis gone under, silk rent for the better fraction), sees he himself himself transformed as lust thrusts out trust. Untrussed he lustfully lustily thrusts. Hot iron slaked. She herself not there but transformed to palpable scream beneath. Teeth grind, grip. Faces at windows peer in horror, in horror fists at doors knock. All shed, what no shed shredded. Of loins lawfully possessed. Stone lioness on parterre parturiates. He himself observing he himself appalled. The sun sackcloth hides shamed face in willed darkness. He thrusts and floods. Flood floods nether caves.
Not so. Not yet. Not ever yet."
The recapitulation [5:24] is parallel to the exposition but modified to reflect changes made by Mozart.
The transition [5:56] no longer modulates to Antoinette's key but stays in the key of Louis: in G minor. "By bright magic right key. Yes, his key." Louis is in the room [6:37] and finally consummates the marriage; "Bare skin on bare skin slides, glides. Burn, lips. Loins conjoin."
The brief codetta [7:43] is set as another joining: now instead of he or she it is "they:"
"They two, now one, confront chill winds. They themselves, they themselves, they themselves tread bare boards, uncarpeted, unrugged, and the polished planks disclosed as wormgnawed, and beneath them a darkness not of the coupling pair made one but of the disorder which strikes the assertive chords of a pretense of order."
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Anthony Burgess On Mozart; Celestial Watercooler Conversations
Anthony Burgess imagined a "celestial colloquy" in his book that celebrated the two-hundredth anniversary of Mozart's death in 1991. His book, "On Mozart," (which was also published under the title "Mozart and the Wolf Gang") opens amid activities and watercooler conversations in the afterworld.
"Stendhal:
Hector Berlioz, as a literary musician, you will perhaps appreciate the thing I have done. Here, where there is no worry about publishers, royalties, a scant readership, it is possible to practice the craft of fiction in a kind of musical purity. I have written something. Here it is -- in print. It is brief, as you see. It is an attempt to write fiction in the shape of Mozart's Fortieth Symphony -- the late one in G minor. Can one subdue human passion to musical form? Can one purge the emotions thereby? Read it. At your leisure. Or, if your bored, during the performance of this next scene or act. I would welcome your opinion."
"Berlioz:
It does not seem easy to read."
"Stendhal:
Meaning it is Stendhalian, Read it."
Marie-Henri Beyle (1783–1842), known by his pen-name Stendhal, is most familiar to musicians for his early biography of Rossini (Vie de Rossini, 1824); a thick book filled with colorful musical observations.
In this imagined conversation, Stendhal is riffing on the concept of "Evenings with the Orchestra," written by Berlioz. In "Evenings" Berlioz recounts tales and stories told among musicians when the are required to play boring music.
The celestial colloquy is itself interrupted by three acts of an opera about Mozart, performed in heaven to an assemble of spirits. Mendelssohn explains: "Our heavenly time is flexible, but I have to invoke clock time to achieve synchronicity. I mean that an opera is due to commence."
As flexible as heavenly time is, Berlioz does not read the "fiction in the shape of Mozart's Fortieth Symphony," until 49 pages later; or should we say 49 pages of Earthly book space later.
The passage comprises eleven pages (page 93-103) and is simply center-titled "K. 550 (1788)." Two spaces further down is a centered section marker: "First Movement." Each of the four movements from the symphony has a section marker.
The text is an attempt to superimpose scenes from the relationship of Louis XIV and and Marie Antoinette onto the music itself. The text and the design of the argument is deeply informed by elements of the structure of the music.
Two writers have begun to unravel these connections: Werner Wolf in "The musicalization of fiction: a study in the theory and history," from 1999, and more recently, "Music in the words: musical form and counterpoint in the twentieth century novel," by Alan Shockley.
Take a look at these two sources. Then we will chase this lovely writing around the sonic labyrinth to see if we can resonate in its juxtapositions.
"Stendhal:
Hector Berlioz, as a literary musician, you will perhaps appreciate the thing I have done. Here, where there is no worry about publishers, royalties, a scant readership, it is possible to practice the craft of fiction in a kind of musical purity. I have written something. Here it is -- in print. It is brief, as you see. It is an attempt to write fiction in the shape of Mozart's Fortieth Symphony -- the late one in G minor. Can one subdue human passion to musical form? Can one purge the emotions thereby? Read it. At your leisure. Or, if your bored, during the performance of this next scene or act. I would welcome your opinion."
"Berlioz:
It does not seem easy to read."
"Stendhal:
Meaning it is Stendhalian, Read it."
Marie-Henri Beyle (1783–1842), known by his pen-name Stendhal, is most familiar to musicians for his early biography of Rossini (Vie de Rossini, 1824); a thick book filled with colorful musical observations.
In this imagined conversation, Stendhal is riffing on the concept of "Evenings with the Orchestra," written by Berlioz. In "Evenings" Berlioz recounts tales and stories told among musicians when the are required to play boring music.
The celestial colloquy is itself interrupted by three acts of an opera about Mozart, performed in heaven to an assemble of spirits. Mendelssohn explains: "Our heavenly time is flexible, but I have to invoke clock time to achieve synchronicity. I mean that an opera is due to commence."
As flexible as heavenly time is, Berlioz does not read the "fiction in the shape of Mozart's Fortieth Symphony," until 49 pages later; or should we say 49 pages of Earthly book space later.
The passage comprises eleven pages (page 93-103) and is simply center-titled "K. 550 (1788)." Two spaces further down is a centered section marker: "First Movement." Each of the four movements from the symphony has a section marker.
The text is an attempt to superimpose scenes from the relationship of Louis XIV and and Marie Antoinette onto the music itself. The text and the design of the argument is deeply informed by elements of the structure of the music.
Two writers have begun to unravel these connections: Werner Wolf in "The musicalization of fiction: a study in the theory and history," from 1999, and more recently, "Music in the words: musical form and counterpoint in the twentieth century novel," by Alan Shockley.
Take a look at these two sources. Then we will chase this lovely writing around the sonic labyrinth to see if we can resonate in its juxtapositions.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Interrupting Mozart; on Bernstein and the night in Cambridge when the G minor symphony stopped
Mozart's G minor Symphony is about shocks and surprises, but there was a night in October 1973 when the unexpected caused Mozart to be temporarily silenced.
On the evening of the first lecture created by Bernstein for the Charles Eliot Norton series in 1973, a complete performance of the G minor symphony was to be filmed in performance at the Harvard Square Theater to cap the event.
Midway through the first movement the performance was stopped and the hall needed to be evacuated. Bernstein explains what happened in the WGBH studio the next morning where the lecture was recreated for videotape:
"During that wait," said Bernstein [0:42], "I must say I was sick at heart, and overcome by despair." But when the audience returned and the work resumed "my faith was restored...and doubled," said Bernstein [1:31].
Time Magazine reported on the incident on October 23, 1973:
"There was also an unscheduled theatrical moment in the middle of a filmed performance of Bernstein conducting Mozart's G-Minor Symphony: a bomb threat emptied the auditorium. 'I wouldn't have minded if the bomb-threat caller had only interrupted me,' said Bernstein after the audience had filed back. 'But to have interrupted Mozart was a sacrilege.' The mostly under-25 audience screamed, shrieked, applauded hysterically, and at concert's end, showered the stage with rose petals."
On the evening of the first lecture created by Bernstein for the Charles Eliot Norton series in 1973, a complete performance of the G minor symphony was to be filmed in performance at the Harvard Square Theater to cap the event.
Midway through the first movement the performance was stopped and the hall needed to be evacuated. Bernstein explains what happened in the WGBH studio the next morning where the lecture was recreated for videotape:
"During that wait," said Bernstein [0:42], "I must say I was sick at heart, and overcome by despair." But when the audience returned and the work resumed "my faith was restored...and doubled," said Bernstein [1:31].
Time Magazine reported on the incident on October 23, 1973:
"There was also an unscheduled theatrical moment in the middle of a filmed performance of Bernstein conducting Mozart's G-Minor Symphony: a bomb threat emptied the auditorium. 'I wouldn't have minded if the bomb-threat caller had only interrupted me,' said Bernstein after the audience had filed back. 'But to have interrupted Mozart was a sacrilege.' The mostly under-25 audience screamed, shrieked, applauded hysterically, and at concert's end, showered the stage with rose petals."
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Nearer to Mozart with Brahms in 1891
In a chapter from his biography of Mozart called "Fearful Symmetries," Maynard Solomon meditates on the peculiar qualities of beauty in the Mozart style. He considers the centennial of Mozart's death in the year 1891, and imagines the challenge faced by Brahms: "how to pay homage to Mozart without surrendering one's own individuality."
The Brahms solution was encoded in the Brahms Clarinet Quintet; an ensemble which entered the public consciousness with the Mozart's Clarinet Quintet in A, K. 581.
Listen with closest possible attention to the opening four notes of the Mozart Quintet. The tune moves down through a triad by skip then step to land on the first scale degree. This tone is harmonized with the relative minor; which delays the arrival of the expected tonic harmony until the chord that introduces the solo clarinet in the seventh measure.
The second movement of the Brahms Clarinet Quintet echos the intervals of the first three notes of the Mozart but then "block[s] the theme, refusing to allow it to continue, let allow to come to rest," observed Solomon.
[Thomas Friedli & Quartet Sine Nomine]
The restlessness is also rhythmic, with deep-scale syncopation and patterns with two-against-three creating gentle frictions. "In the end Brahms knew," wrote Solomon, "we cannot reach Mozart, we can only hope to come nearer to him."
The Brahms solution was encoded in the Brahms Clarinet Quintet; an ensemble which entered the public consciousness with the Mozart's Clarinet Quintet in A, K. 581.
Listen with closest possible attention to the opening four notes of the Mozart Quintet. The tune moves down through a triad by skip then step to land on the first scale degree. This tone is harmonized with the relative minor; which delays the arrival of the expected tonic harmony until the chord that introduces the solo clarinet in the seventh measure.
The second movement of the Brahms Clarinet Quintet echos the intervals of the first three notes of the Mozart but then "block[s] the theme, refusing to allow it to continue, let allow to come to rest," observed Solomon.
[Thomas Friedli & Quartet Sine Nomine]
The restlessness is also rhythmic, with deep-scale syncopation and patterns with two-against-three creating gentle frictions. "In the end Brahms knew," wrote Solomon, "we cannot reach Mozart, we can only hope to come nearer to him."
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Two levels of syncopation in Mozart's early G Minor Symphony
The opening of the first movement of Mozart's early G minor symphony K. 183 is arresting. Its vibrant syncopated beginning is used as a symbol of shock during the unexpected discovery of Salieri's suicide attempt in the movie Amadeus. The syncopation is expressed as a kind of tearing with the violins and violas pulling against the celli and basses. The suddenness of melodic motions is dizzying. This movement is all about intensities.
The movie is edited to correspond to sections within the sonata form expert that is played. The lengthy transition is greeted by a blinding overheard shot of an indoor ballroom lit with real candles in the chandeliers.
As the second theme group begins a massive double-door is swung open.
But in a symphony of intensities, even the musette which comprises the second theme group in B-flat major is connected to the opening gesture by the use of syncopation--in this case a syncopation that happens at the phrase level rather than syncopation within the measure:
In the photograph above, I marked the first four measures of the second theme group beginning in the fourth measure of the top system. Count those measures in hypermetric 8th note language with two articulations per measure (ONE-and-TWO-and-THREE-and-FOUR-and), and the phrase structure becomes apparent. It has the same properties that each individual measure has at a different scale of time.
One the second system the balancing phrase is cut short by one-half a measure, and the restatement of the second theme group begins on the second part of the measure--it is a metric-level syncopation (AND-one-AND-two-AND-three-AND-four) (AND-one-AND-two-AND-three-AND).
The metric syncopation resolves at [4:03] on a downbeat that in turn launches us into closing gestures.
I had the great opportunity to study and work with Lukas Foss. He used to say of Mozart that while anyone could put notes together that belonged together, that Mozart "was the kind of genius that could put ideas together that did not belong together and make them work."
What better example of this than the sense that ideas can connect by using syncopation to communicate urgency and intensity at different distances from the musical surface.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A Quick Tour through Twinkle; Thoughts on Mozart's Variations on Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star
Mozart's twelve variations on "Ah vous dirais-je, Maman" K. 265/300e are a showcase of compositional styles:
The theme is presented in a stately and spare two-voice scoring that sings. Then the collection bursts into motion with five variations that group together through the development of etude figuration and textural oscillation.
The patterning is systematic. The 16th note figuration in the first variation [0:34] is played by the right-hand; the second variation [1:03] by the left-hand.
Variations 3 and 4 spin slower, using a triplet motor, but follow the pattern; triplets in the third variation [1:33] played by the right-hand, then by the left in variation 4 [2:01].
The pattern is broken [2:35]. Mozart compresses the pattern into a single variation of immediate dialog between the hands. The fifth variation expresses humor in purely sonic context.
The broken pattern is a large-scale cadence to a textural process that links the first five variations into a larger stanza.
The second stanza of Mozart's Variations is a gallery of topics.
Variation VI [3:02] is like an eighteenth-century quickstep with figuration that sounds like the drums on wipeout by the Safaris. Eccentric perhaps, but this movement is a bridge from the systematic into a new collection of attitudes.
Variation VII [3:29] is set in the brilliant style with rockets balanced by throws. The broken chords at the cadences return in the figuration of the tenth variation and in modified form in the final cadence of the work.
The learned style is explored in the next two variations, first [3:57] with an unaccompanied motive in the parallel minor answered in the subdominant. A modified bass entry on the dominant balances harmonic fields. An austere and graceful dancing fills these lines which seem to continually fall, weighing against quick-rising motives.
Variation IX [4:33] seems a variation of the prior variation: it dances on the surface, losing its learned in rustic temptations.
Variation X [4:59] is an etude for left-hand crossing, balancing touch, and the challenge of matching voicings between the hands.
A gorgeous essay in the singing style follows [5:26]. The gentle syncopated background and the orchestral shifting among registers can be made unforgettable. The figure that opens the second half of the variation [6:05] also appears(transposed to G) in measure 9 of the Andante of his piano sonata K. 283.
The final variation [6:53] introduces music in 3/4 time. Trills on the third beat emphasize the new meter. A playful passage in doubled 16ths [7:14] momentarily suspends the strong dance impulse, but it re-emerges with clever third-beat hiccups four measures before the return.
A short cadenza samples textures from several variations to bring the set to a close.
The theme is presented in a stately and spare two-voice scoring that sings. Then the collection bursts into motion with five variations that group together through the development of etude figuration and textural oscillation.
The patterning is systematic. The 16th note figuration in the first variation [0:34] is played by the right-hand; the second variation [1:03] by the left-hand.
Variations 3 and 4 spin slower, using a triplet motor, but follow the pattern; triplets in the third variation [1:33] played by the right-hand, then by the left in variation 4 [2:01].
The pattern is broken [2:35]. Mozart compresses the pattern into a single variation of immediate dialog between the hands. The fifth variation expresses humor in purely sonic context.
The broken pattern is a large-scale cadence to a textural process that links the first five variations into a larger stanza.
The second stanza of Mozart's Variations is a gallery of topics.
Variation VI [3:02] is like an eighteenth-century quickstep with figuration that sounds like the drums on wipeout by the Safaris. Eccentric perhaps, but this movement is a bridge from the systematic into a new collection of attitudes.
Variation VII [3:29] is set in the brilliant style with rockets balanced by throws. The broken chords at the cadences return in the figuration of the tenth variation and in modified form in the final cadence of the work.
The learned style is explored in the next two variations, first [3:57] with an unaccompanied motive in the parallel minor answered in the subdominant. A modified bass entry on the dominant balances harmonic fields. An austere and graceful dancing fills these lines which seem to continually fall, weighing against quick-rising motives.
Variation IX [4:33] seems a variation of the prior variation: it dances on the surface, losing its learned in rustic temptations.
Variation X [4:59] is an etude for left-hand crossing, balancing touch, and the challenge of matching voicings between the hands.
A gorgeous essay in the singing style follows [5:26]. The gentle syncopated background and the orchestral shifting among registers can be made unforgettable. The figure that opens the second half of the variation [6:05] also appears(transposed to G) in measure 9 of the Andante of his piano sonata K. 283.
The final variation [6:53] introduces music in 3/4 time. Trills on the third beat emphasize the new meter. A playful passage in doubled 16ths [7:14] momentarily suspends the strong dance impulse, but it re-emerges with clever third-beat hiccups four measures before the return.
A short cadenza samples textures from several variations to bring the set to a close.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Howard Gardner on Mozart's Figaro
"The Disciplined Mind," a book by Howard Gardner from 1999, pleads for consideration of what he considers to be the most essential purposes for education. He articulates three "realms" that he believes "should animate education:" truth, beauty, and morality.
His example from the realm of beauty is a trio from the first act of The Marriage of Figaro by Mozart. Gardner admits early in the text that his choices for “realms” are personal and somewhat arbitrary, but by drilling down on his realms in stages throughout the text he creates a model for how an educator might develop their own examples.
Gardner has chosen an opera familiar to music lovers, but one which also presents considerable challenges. The Marriage of Figaro is long, and is one of the most complicated plots in the Mozart canon. Characters assume you know who they are, their backstory, and the nature of their intentions throughout this opera.
"Works of art, wrote Gardner, "call for many forms of understanding, at different levels of sophistication." Gardner asks us to understand the "choice of words," the "narrative sequence," and the way in which this opera deals with themes that were controversial at the time. He also asks us to seek to understand the music, "how it was constructed, which effects it achieves, how and why particular examples are wrought."
His presentation is mostly descriptive, and he divides the scene into nine sections. Here are Gardner's nine sections mapped onto the scene in the famous film of the opera by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle:
I. Agenda Setting [0:00]
"Each protagonist reveals goals (to himself or herself and to the audience)."
II. Susanna'a Alarm [0:47]
Gardner segments this section on Susanna's high A-flat where she "captures the attention of the men." A division created by the music rather than the text would start the section at the shift into F minor at [0:32], where Susanna begins to feel anxiety. There could also be a division at [0:58] with the shift into F major as Basilio and the count support her and "try to revive her."
III Recovery [1:25]
This section would also seem to start earlier than Gardner indicates, perhaps with the cadence at [1:16]. He marked the sectional change based on Susanna's first words rather than where the music itself shifts.
IV. Calming Susanna [1:33]
"Another key change, this time back to a stable 'home base' of E-flat."
V. Back to the Page [1:53]
"singing in an apologetic tone, with oboe accompaniment, Basilio backpedals on the gossip that he has been spreading about Cherubino's involvement with the Countess."
VI Banish the Page [2:15]
"All three protagonists refer to the page as 'poverino'--poor lad--in brief duets as well as in antiphonal passages."
VII What did Cherubino do? [2:34]
Gardner includes the "set of rising scalar tones" in which Susanna and Basilio ask the count to explain. Perhaps it would make more sense musically to simply start this section with the count's recitative [2:42] that explains what Cherubino did.
VIII Revelation [3:16]
The Count uncovers Cherubino under the blanket of Susanna's bed. "The orchestra joins in a lengthy A," writes Gardner "one long enough to allow the audience to appreciate the shocking discovery and to laugh heartily."
IX Three Tables Turned [3:19-5:05]
"Susanna, the Count, and Basilio," writes Gardner, "sing simultaneously, revealing their innermost thoughts to themselves and the audience but not, presumably, to one another." In this filmed version of the opera the trio takes place as if only the count was singing, and as if Basilio and Susanna are only thinking their parts.
Gardner challenges his students with this trio. It is a passage that is a mosaic of tightly constructed musical wit.
By using this passage Gardner gives us an example of a disciplined mind at work. It is not only a mind capable of internal rigor and discipline, but also one shaped by the "shopping mall of the disciplines." It is a mind that synthesizes ideas and that values creativity.
His example from the realm of beauty is a trio from the first act of The Marriage of Figaro by Mozart. Gardner admits early in the text that his choices for “realms” are personal and somewhat arbitrary, but by drilling down on his realms in stages throughout the text he creates a model for how an educator might develop their own examples.
Gardner has chosen an opera familiar to music lovers, but one which also presents considerable challenges. The Marriage of Figaro is long, and is one of the most complicated plots in the Mozart canon. Characters assume you know who they are, their backstory, and the nature of their intentions throughout this opera.
"Works of art, wrote Gardner, "call for many forms of understanding, at different levels of sophistication." Gardner asks us to understand the "choice of words," the "narrative sequence," and the way in which this opera deals with themes that were controversial at the time. He also asks us to seek to understand the music, "how it was constructed, which effects it achieves, how and why particular examples are wrought."
His presentation is mostly descriptive, and he divides the scene into nine sections. Here are Gardner's nine sections mapped onto the scene in the famous film of the opera by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle:
I. Agenda Setting [0:00]
"Each protagonist reveals goals (to himself or herself and to the audience)."
II. Susanna'a Alarm [0:47]
Gardner segments this section on Susanna's high A-flat where she "captures the attention of the men." A division created by the music rather than the text would start the section at the shift into F minor at [0:32], where Susanna begins to feel anxiety. There could also be a division at [0:58] with the shift into F major as Basilio and the count support her and "try to revive her."
III Recovery [1:25]
This section would also seem to start earlier than Gardner indicates, perhaps with the cadence at [1:16]. He marked the sectional change based on Susanna's first words rather than where the music itself shifts.
IV. Calming Susanna [1:33]
"Another key change, this time back to a stable 'home base' of E-flat."
V. Back to the Page [1:53]
"singing in an apologetic tone, with oboe accompaniment, Basilio backpedals on the gossip that he has been spreading about Cherubino's involvement with the Countess."
VI Banish the Page [2:15]
"All three protagonists refer to the page as 'poverino'--poor lad--in brief duets as well as in antiphonal passages."
VII What did Cherubino do? [2:34]
Gardner includes the "set of rising scalar tones" in which Susanna and Basilio ask the count to explain. Perhaps it would make more sense musically to simply start this section with the count's recitative [2:42] that explains what Cherubino did.
VIII Revelation [3:16]
The Count uncovers Cherubino under the blanket of Susanna's bed. "The orchestra joins in a lengthy A," writes Gardner "one long enough to allow the audience to appreciate the shocking discovery and to laugh heartily."
IX Three Tables Turned [3:19-5:05]
"Susanna, the Count, and Basilio," writes Gardner, "sing simultaneously, revealing their innermost thoughts to themselves and the audience but not, presumably, to one another." In this filmed version of the opera the trio takes place as if only the count was singing, and as if Basilio and Susanna are only thinking their parts.
Gardner challenges his students with this trio. It is a passage that is a mosaic of tightly constructed musical wit.
By using this passage Gardner gives us an example of a disciplined mind at work. It is not only a mind capable of internal rigor and discipline, but also one shaped by the "shopping mall of the disciplines." It is a mind that synthesizes ideas and that values creativity.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Don Giovanni as fiction; a story by E.T.A. Hoffmann
On March 31, 1813, an anonymous story appeared from a writer on the verge of discovering a voice, hidden among his other talents, that would directly influence fiction about classical music for better than a hundred years.
"Don Juan: A Fabulous Incident which Befell a Travelling Enthusiast," is a short story shaped as a letter written in dream-language by an unidentified composer who has summoned the spirit of Donna Anna during a performance of Don Giovanni.
In 1813 E. T. A. Hoffmann was among the first to write beyond plot description about this opera; he attempted to grapple with its indeterminism. Hoffmann was not explaining the meaning of the opera, but instead letting fiction explore and develop one corner of a possible interpretation. He used variables from within the libretto to inspire a new fiction.
In Hoffmann’s story Donna Anna was raped by Don Giovanni before the opening scene.
“The fire of a superhuman sensuality, a fire from hell, surged through her being and she was powerless to resist. Only he . . . could arouse in her the erotic madness with which she embraced him.” This is the reason she will not let him escape in the opening scene. Hoffmann views her interaction with Don Ottavio as surface gesture concealing a broken reality underneath.
In a lovely and poetical book from 1975 called “E. T.. A. Hoffmann and Music,” R. Murray Schafer states gently that “numerous commentators have pointed out that Mozart’s opera does not possess the qualities Hoffmann read into it.” But Mozart’s opera does not exclude corollaries built off from its own inherent indeterminism. Fiction, an independent medium, creates its own potentials.
Like the opera that sounds throughout and inspires the attitude of the fiction, the story is organized in two parts. First, the narrator hears a live performance of Don Giovanni. We are given detailed musical c[l]ues as to his continuing progress in listening.
He is aware of a presence in his private Loge; it is Donna Anna, dressed exactly as she appeared onstage. Inexplicably, he even felt her presence behind him as she was singing onstage during the masked terzetto scene. During intermission he engages her in conversation, then hears the remainder of the opera caught in her web.
The second “Act” of the fiction proceeds without formal marker. It reveals the reaction of other, less sensitive, less informed members of the audience. Then the narrator reveals himself as writing the letter to Theodore in the empty darkened theater.
“A warm, electrifying breath glides over me.”
The story closes around a fantastic collection of alignments: as the clock strikes two, the narrator completes his letter. This is the time, "due della notte," mentioned by the Don in scene twelve as he enters the graveyard to await Leporello. And we discover in the final words that it is in an exact synchronicity with the time the actress who sang Donna Anna dies. "Due della notte" becomes the portal back out of the opera’s strange perfect unison.
Fellow blogger Douglas Robertson translated this story in 2008.
"Don Juan: A Fabulous Incident which Befell a Travelling Enthusiast," is a short story shaped as a letter written in dream-language by an unidentified composer who has summoned the spirit of Donna Anna during a performance of Don Giovanni.
In 1813 E. T. A. Hoffmann was among the first to write beyond plot description about this opera; he attempted to grapple with its indeterminism. Hoffmann was not explaining the meaning of the opera, but instead letting fiction explore and develop one corner of a possible interpretation. He used variables from within the libretto to inspire a new fiction.
In Hoffmann’s story Donna Anna was raped by Don Giovanni before the opening scene.
“The fire of a superhuman sensuality, a fire from hell, surged through her being and she was powerless to resist. Only he . . . could arouse in her the erotic madness with which she embraced him.” This is the reason she will not let him escape in the opening scene. Hoffmann views her interaction with Don Ottavio as surface gesture concealing a broken reality underneath.
In a lovely and poetical book from 1975 called “E. T.. A. Hoffmann and Music,” R. Murray Schafer states gently that “numerous commentators have pointed out that Mozart’s opera does not possess the qualities Hoffmann read into it.” But Mozart’s opera does not exclude corollaries built off from its own inherent indeterminism. Fiction, an independent medium, creates its own potentials.
Like the opera that sounds throughout and inspires the attitude of the fiction, the story is organized in two parts. First, the narrator hears a live performance of Don Giovanni. We are given detailed musical c[l]ues as to his continuing progress in listening.
He is aware of a presence in his private Loge; it is Donna Anna, dressed exactly as she appeared onstage. Inexplicably, he even felt her presence behind him as she was singing onstage during the masked terzetto scene. During intermission he engages her in conversation, then hears the remainder of the opera caught in her web.
The second “Act” of the fiction proceeds without formal marker. It reveals the reaction of other, less sensitive, less informed members of the audience. Then the narrator reveals himself as writing the letter to Theodore in the empty darkened theater.
“A warm, electrifying breath glides over me.”
The story closes around a fantastic collection of alignments: as the clock strikes two, the narrator completes his letter. This is the time, "due della notte," mentioned by the Don in scene twelve as he enters the graveyard to await Leporello. And we discover in the final words that it is in an exact synchronicity with the time the actress who sang Donna Anna dies. "Due della notte" becomes the portal back out of the opera’s strange perfect unison.
Fellow blogger Douglas Robertson translated this story in 2008.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Don Giovanni as film; the overture from Losey 1979
Don Giovanni can be an intoxicant. It speaks of sexual freedom, of high-spirited escapades, dances, wine, and an escape into a moonlit cemetery. But it also speaks of reckoning. Murder, broken lives, obsession for revenge, and supernatural retribution fuel its dark side.
Is Don Giovanni himself a playful comedian who attempts but seldom attains? Is he a villain to be despised for self-absorbed, scheming lies? Has he committed rape? He is dragged to hell by the ghost the Commandant—not for his sexuality—but for murder, and he does not repent in the face of damnation.
So, which is it? The debate continues. Da Ponte and Mozart created the first indeterminate opera: dark, light or both simultaneously. Meaning depends upon cumulative effects; a mixture that has proven to be infinitely faceted.
This famous version of Don Giovanni made in 1979 by Joseph Losey (1909-1984) develops mixtures from the possibilities of film. In the overture, anticipation is developed as preparations are made, candles lit. We get our first look at the Don, played by Ruggero Raimondi, as he comes toward us, walking past without recognition. A crowd follows. The horizon darkens and the famous chromatic lines are harmonized with dizzying visual effects.
The allegro molto is set as an entrance to a masked ball near a glassblowing furnace. It is as if Don Giovanni is visiting hell on earth to gauge what the end of the opera will hold.
Is Don Giovanni himself a playful comedian who attempts but seldom attains? Is he a villain to be despised for self-absorbed, scheming lies? Has he committed rape? He is dragged to hell by the ghost the Commandant—not for his sexuality—but for murder, and he does not repent in the face of damnation.
So, which is it? The debate continues. Da Ponte and Mozart created the first indeterminate opera: dark, light or both simultaneously. Meaning depends upon cumulative effects; a mixture that has proven to be infinitely faceted.
This famous version of Don Giovanni made in 1979 by Joseph Losey (1909-1984) develops mixtures from the possibilities of film. In the overture, anticipation is developed as preparations are made, candles lit. We get our first look at the Don, played by Ruggero Raimondi, as he comes toward us, walking past without recognition. A crowd follows. The horizon darkens and the famous chromatic lines are harmonized with dizzying visual effects.
The allegro molto is set as an entrance to a masked ball near a glassblowing furnace. It is as if Don Giovanni is visiting hell on earth to gauge what the end of the opera will hold.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Thinking Mozart; Vesperae solennes K.339
Mozart wrote his Vesperae solennes de confessore K.339 at the age of 24, in the aftermath of discovering that the world was not quite ready for him yet.
He had essentially quit his musical job working for Count Colloredo in his hometown, had almost gotten his father fired in the process, and left for Paris seeking his fortune with his Mother as chaperon. He stopped in Mannheim along the way, and immediately fell in love with a soprano named Aloysia Weber. Accordingly, using post-adolescent logic, he wasted time and resources, and pressed the patience of his parents hoping to stay there.
Fortune finally persuaded him to move on to Paris, where he made all attempts to impress nobility and to find musical employment. Late in June his Mother developed a high fever, and died on July 3. This single event shook and changed him, in the midst of the realization that he would never receive a substantial offer for musical employment in Paris. He left for home embarrassed, depressed and bewildered.
On his way back, he stopped for consolation from Aloysia Weber, only to discover that she had forgotten him, and was already seeing someone else. Two years later, he married Aloysia’s sister, Constanze. His father had managed to plead with the Count, begging forgiveness for his son and eventually getting him his job back. It was in the year following these events that the Vesperae was created in Salzburg, for the Count.
The Vespers were a traditional part of the Roman Catholic liturgy, within the Divine Offices; which were services designed to take place from dawn through dusk. The Vespers were the seventh of eight offices comprising this worship, and were celebrated at sunset. It was the only office for which concerted music was allowed by the Church. The Vespers consisted of five psalm texts (#110, 111, 112, 113 and 117), a hymn, and it culminated with the Magnificat (which is the Canticle of the Virgin Mary from Luke 1:46-55).
Other composers set the Vespers, or adapted its texts in their own way both before and after Mozart, including Monteverdi, Alessandro Scarlatti, Tchaikovsky, and Rachmaninoff. Mozart set the complete Vespers twice (K.321 and K.339) both of which are in C major, and both leave out the hymn to create a six movement design. Six years earlier he had also set the Dixit and Magnificat texts in C major K.193.
Known during his lifetime primarily as an opera composer, the influence of operatic style was often present in non-operatic works by Mozart. It is fascinating to hear how Mozart infuses a sacred text with the spirit of opera, while still maintaining the strict and proper religious spirit of the times demanded by Count Colloredo. The operatic style is often introduced with music given to soloists. In the Dixit Dominus, in the midst of the contrasts, organizational complexity and juxtaposed styles, the soloists introduce an operatic style briefly and subtly in the final section, where they preface the re-presentation of music heard earlier in the movement with music and style unique to themselves. The middle section of the Confitebor is like an operatic scene, and is given entirely to soloists. In the Beatus Vir and the Magnificat, soloists alternate with the choir. Soloists, and operatic qualities are lacking only in the J.S. Bach influenced Laudate Pueri, which in its austerity helps to prepare the jewel of the collection, Laudate Dominum, set as an operatic aria for the soprano soloist.
He had essentially quit his musical job working for Count Colloredo in his hometown, had almost gotten his father fired in the process, and left for Paris seeking his fortune with his Mother as chaperon. He stopped in Mannheim along the way, and immediately fell in love with a soprano named Aloysia Weber. Accordingly, using post-adolescent logic, he wasted time and resources, and pressed the patience of his parents hoping to stay there.
Fortune finally persuaded him to move on to Paris, where he made all attempts to impress nobility and to find musical employment. Late in June his Mother developed a high fever, and died on July 3. This single event shook and changed him, in the midst of the realization that he would never receive a substantial offer for musical employment in Paris. He left for home embarrassed, depressed and bewildered.
On his way back, he stopped for consolation from Aloysia Weber, only to discover that she had forgotten him, and was already seeing someone else. Two years later, he married Aloysia’s sister, Constanze. His father had managed to plead with the Count, begging forgiveness for his son and eventually getting him his job back. It was in the year following these events that the Vesperae was created in Salzburg, for the Count.
The Vespers were a traditional part of the Roman Catholic liturgy, within the Divine Offices; which were services designed to take place from dawn through dusk. The Vespers were the seventh of eight offices comprising this worship, and were celebrated at sunset. It was the only office for which concerted music was allowed by the Church. The Vespers consisted of five psalm texts (#110, 111, 112, 113 and 117), a hymn, and it culminated with the Magnificat (which is the Canticle of the Virgin Mary from Luke 1:46-55).
Other composers set the Vespers, or adapted its texts in their own way both before and after Mozart, including Monteverdi, Alessandro Scarlatti, Tchaikovsky, and Rachmaninoff. Mozart set the complete Vespers twice (K.321 and K.339) both of which are in C major, and both leave out the hymn to create a six movement design. Six years earlier he had also set the Dixit and Magnificat texts in C major K.193.
Known during his lifetime primarily as an opera composer, the influence of operatic style was often present in non-operatic works by Mozart. It is fascinating to hear how Mozart infuses a sacred text with the spirit of opera, while still maintaining the strict and proper religious spirit of the times demanded by Count Colloredo. The operatic style is often introduced with music given to soloists. In the Dixit Dominus, in the midst of the contrasts, organizational complexity and juxtaposed styles, the soloists introduce an operatic style briefly and subtly in the final section, where they preface the re-presentation of music heard earlier in the movement with music and style unique to themselves. The middle section of the Confitebor is like an operatic scene, and is given entirely to soloists. In the Beatus Vir and the Magnificat, soloists alternate with the choir. Soloists, and operatic qualities are lacking only in the J.S. Bach influenced Laudate Pueri, which in its austerity helps to prepare the jewel of the collection, Laudate Dominum, set as an operatic aria for the soprano soloist.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Mozart's Baptism
In a fanciful biography of Mozart written by Marcia Davenport in 1947 the scene of Mozart's baptism was imagined:
"Next morning the bundle of wool was carried through the snow to the baroque cathedral on the Domplatz. Sharp blades of wind cut down between the close overhanging mountains and flung white robes around the scowling saints at the church doors. Inside, dwarfed among the square, soaring columns, a few worshippers knelt hugging their coarse green cloaks and shivering at contact with the chill marble floor. Deep in prayer, they blew on their purple fingers, moved their trussed feet, and took no notice of this town commonplace, this christening party at the left-hand rear corner of the the nave, where the high iron font was open and filled with icy holy water. In a moment the ceremony was over, town-chaplain Leopold Lambrect bestowing on the feeble child the names Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus.
The scene took place on Monday, January 28, 1756. Here is the entry from the baptismal record:
The second column is the name--the second name is abbreviated Chrysost. and the two words at the end are fil[ius] leg[itimus]. The parents, Leopoldus Mozart and Maria Anna appear listed in the third column.
The baptismal font is located in the first north chapel, to the left as one enters the cathedral. I took this photograph looking west just outside of the second chapel. The basin of the font is made of pewter and dates from 1321.
A copper lion protects the four corners of the font and support its weight. These copper lions are even older than the basin dating back to the 12th century. Over the years the face has been polished by people touching the lions for luck and protection.
"Next morning the bundle of wool was carried through the snow to the baroque cathedral on the Domplatz. Sharp blades of wind cut down between the close overhanging mountains and flung white robes around the scowling saints at the church doors. Inside, dwarfed among the square, soaring columns, a few worshippers knelt hugging their coarse green cloaks and shivering at contact with the chill marble floor. Deep in prayer, they blew on their purple fingers, moved their trussed feet, and took no notice of this town commonplace, this christening party at the left-hand rear corner of the the nave, where the high iron font was open and filled with icy holy water. In a moment the ceremony was over, town-chaplain Leopold Lambrect bestowing on the feeble child the names Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus.
The scene took place on Monday, January 28, 1756. Here is the entry from the baptismal record:
The second column is the name--the second name is abbreviated Chrysost. and the two words at the end are fil[ius] leg[itimus]. The parents, Leopoldus Mozart and Maria Anna appear listed in the third column.
The baptismal font is located in the first north chapel, to the left as one enters the cathedral. I took this photograph looking west just outside of the second chapel. The basin of the font is made of pewter and dates from 1321.
A copper lion protects the four corners of the font and support its weight. These copper lions are even older than the basin dating back to the 12th century. Over the years the face has been polished by people touching the lions for luck and protection.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
