Thinking LA Phil Live in HD; The March 13 Program

I encourage you to try something different...something a little 21st century:

On March 13 the LA Philharmonic will continue its new "Live in HD Series" in selected theaters. You can find the location closest to you on this site.

There has been significant discourse about the pros and cons of hearing an orchestra simulcast played through a movie theater sound-system. We are given to experiencing live orchestral sound as a complexity akin to sonic wine-tasting. "I thought the sound ineffective," wrote Mark Swed, "the concert experience dulled."

I can understand Swed's complaint; hearing a live event that is simulcast is different from hearing live sound. One loses the seemingly infinite delicacy of live sound anytime it is processed. But for me the overall experience was not dulled. Without the transmission I would not have had the experience at all. The new medium created a new availability.

One still gets a sense of shared experience with Live-in-HD. We had gathered.

Like Swed, I also attended the first transmission of the LA Phil Live in HD in January and reviewed the event here on Sonic Labyrinth. That program featured a tasty performance of Leonard Bernstein's first symphony with lovely singing in the third movement by mezzo-soprano Kelley O'Connor. The program--Adams, Bernstein, Beethoven--was engaging. To include Leonard Bernstein's Symphony No. 1 in particular was to chart a worthwhile course. This was not pops. It was the real thing.

Cinemas are a place where people come to relax, but also to become engaged. Movies require uninterrupted concentration. Cinemas may be the perfect place outside of a concert hall to develop new audiences inside the concert hall.

I believe that high quality performances like these, made broadly available in cinemas, will allow us to re-energize the conversation about how to develop younger audiences for symphonic music; about how to make classical music relevant to the digital age.

The program on March 13 is also creative and worth your consideration. It will be centered on three works by Tchaikovsky inspired by Shakespeare plays: The Overture-Fantasy on Romeo and Juliet, the rarely played Overture-Fantasia on Hamlet op. 67, and the earlier Symphonic Fantasia after The Tempest, Op. 18. Readings from the plays will be interspersed within the program.

I may not see you there, but I will be there, listening. I remain convinced that there is potential in this new venture.

Watching Gluck's Iphigénie en Tauride Live in HD with Hector Berlioz

Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck (1714-1787) is a name associated with operatic reforms that many of us learned about in music history classes while safely tucked into large, airy lecture halls.

But for composer Hector Berlioz the music of Gluck represented a world of "infinite passion." Several times in his writings Berlioz describes performances of Iphigénie en Tauride in detailed and electrifying prose.

"Short of fainting," wrote Berlioz as a student back home to his sister, "I could not have been more moved than when I saw a performance of Gluck’s masterpiece Iphigénie en Tauride." This early euphoria was captured in a fictional transformation in a book he wrote years later.

His book "Evenings with the Orchestra" is centered on discussions and storytelling among members of an orchestra while dull modern operas are being performed. No one talked during masterpieces.

On the twenty-second evening described in the book, Gluck's Iphigénie en Tauride was performed. Corsino figured prominently in Evenings with the Orchestra. He was the concertmaster of the orchestra and was himself a composer. This passage, from the famous translation by Jacques Barzun, articulates the overpowering emotional impact that Berlioz found in Gluck. He takes us into the scene as it unfolds in present tense. Present tense was the 19th century version of Live in HD:

"The entire orchestra is filled with a religious respect for this immortal work and seems afraid of not being able to rise to the occasion. I notice the deep, sustained attention of the musicians as they keep their eyes on the conductor, the precision of their attack, their keen sense of expressive accent, the delicacy of their accompaniment, their ability to produce a wide range of nuances."

"The chorus also is impeccable. The Scythians’ scene in the first act rouses the enthusiasm of the select public that fills the house. Orestes is inadequate and almost ridiculous; Pylades bleats like a lamb. Iphigenia alone is equal to her role. When she comes to her aria “Unhappy Iphigenia!” whose color of antiquity, solemnity of accent, and desolate dignity of expression in melody and accompaniment recall the sublimities of Homer and the simple grandeur of the heroic ages, while filling the heart with the unfathomable sadness inseparable from the memory of a glorious but vanished past, Corsino turns pale and stops playing. He puts both elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands, as if overwrought by inexpressible emotion."

"I can see his breathing become more and more rapid and the blood rushing to his reddened temples. At the entrance of the women’s chorus on the words 'To her lament we join our plaintive cries,' at that instant when the prolonged outcry of the priestesses blends with the voice of the royal orphan and swells with a heart-rending tumult in the orchestra, two streams of tears force their way from his eyes and he sobs so vehemently that I am compelled to lead him out of the house."

"We go outside . . . I see him home. Seated in his modest room, lit up by the moon alone, we stay a long time motionless. Corsino raises his eyes for an instant to the bust of Gluck that stands on his piano. We gaze at it. . . . The moon disappears. He sighs painfully, flings himself on his bed, and I leave. We have not uttered a single word."

Iphigénie en Tauride will be transmitted to theaters worldwide as part of the Met Live in HD Series this Saturday. See it and swoon.

Review of the Met Live in HD Nixon in China; Live Cinema and Superhuman Orchestral Playing

(Photo by Ken Howard Courtesy of The Metropolitan Opera)

According to one of the earliest credits at the end of the Met Live in HD production of Nixon in China this event was "directed for live cinema by Peter Sellars." Sellars created a stunning sequence of close-ups and elegant camera movements that added a structurally significant visual element to this production.

The curtain opened to a stage filled with silent motionless people. Sellars immediately began to show us individual faces and frozen expressions. Ingmar Bergman's 1975 film version of Mozart's opera Die Zauberflöte opened in a related energy--it focused on individual faces in the audience while the overture played. Sellars tapped into this world while the John Adams score explored ways in which a rising A-minor scale can quietly shift into surprising modalities.

The public was an audience; both onstage and in cinema's across the world. "Just now," sang James Maddalena as Nixon in Act One Scene I, "the world was listening."

If the Sellars closeups were any closer we would have seen sinuses. But the cumulative impact of these angles was undeniable. We felt intimately connected to these characters.

The Met orchestra played with both patience and intensity. They articulated the rich complexity of rhythmic currents in this score with such focus and endurance that larger relationships, frictions, and cross-currents became newly audible and seemed to motivate and carry the singers.

The ending act of the opera was described as a "subtle large-scale decrescendo" by Thomas May in an engaging article in the 2010-2011 Met "Season Book."

This production did not sound this way. The subtle tensions produced by the Met orchestra and the stretto of simultaneous vocal conversations produced a gripping intensification throughout the third act that seemed to resolve only as Russell Braun, as Chou En-Lai, sang the closing reflection: "I am old and I cannot sleep forever, like the young."

Nixon in China was an idiomatic "Live in HD" transmission. Its cross-currents of musical style and complex rhythmic surfaces sounded at home coming across a cinematic sound system. It was music that spoke to the 21st century without an accent.

Program Notes, March 12 2011

Rachmaninoff Symphony No. 2 and
Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 3
by Jeffrey Johnson


Rachmaninoff was in his mid-thirties when he wrote both the second symphony and the third piano concerto. He had developed three significant talents: as a composer, a conductor, and a pianist. Shifting among these identities was a significant problem—how should his energy be divided? Providing for his family was not possible through composition alone.

From the time of his exile in 1918 to his death in 1943 he made his living as a concert pianist, but it was primarily conducting that paid the bills for Rachmaninoff at the turn of the century.

Composing in Solitude and Seeking Escape
Rachmaninoff broke away from the physically taxing world of a conductor in February 1906 to focus his energy on his compositional portfolio. He could only compose in complete solitude. In a radical move, he resigned from his conducting position and moved his family outside of Russia; to Dresden where nobody knew him. The second symphony and the third piano concerto are both products of someone who was searching—Rachmaninoff was experimenting with escape.

Strange but True
In 1943, the year that Rachmaninoff died, World War Two was in progress. It was impossible to transport the body of the composer to the family estate in Switzerland or to Russia. His wife chose the Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, New York. Rachmaninoff is buried about 45 minutes away from Bridgeport.


Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943)
Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, Op. 30

World Premiere: November 28, 1909 in NYC
Most Recent Performance by GBS: March 2, 1991 with soloist Christopher O’Riley

Mahler conducted it?
Rachmaninoff made his first tour of the United States as a pianist in 1909, an event for which he composed his third piano concerto. On January 17, 1910, less than two months after its premiere, Gustav Mahler conducted a performance of this concerto with the New York Philharmonic with Rachmaninoff as soloist.

Taking a “Shine” to this Concerto
The 1996 movie “Shine” was based (some say loosely) on the life of pianist David Helfgott. Rachmaninoff’s third concerto was frequently used in the movie as symbol of the pianist’s mental breakdown. The “Rach third” is infamous for its technical challenges and it marks a rite of passage for any performer, but it also rich with other wonderful surprises. There is much more to the work that one might guess from watching “Shine.”

I: Allegro ma non tanto (D minor)
Three Times “that” Tune
This concerto casts an instantaneous spell. The opening melody is musical story-telling of the highest order. The next presentation of this melody marks the beginning of the development section. The tune is abandoned as the music becomes expansive and athletic. A final presentation comes late in the movement, after the cadenza, and just before the movement comes to a quiet close.

Passion and Playfulness
The new contrasting section begins with music that is articulate and playful. Lyrical music is juxtaposed and lines float effortlessly. The mood becomes wildly passionate before clicking back suddenly into playfulness. The codetta returns to the ethereal textures so characteristic of Rachmaninoff.

Intermediate Listening. Which Cadenza?
The first movement culminates in a lengthy cadenza for solo piano. It is moment of truth for the soloist and functions as an alternative recapitulation. There are two different cadenzas that Rachmaninoff wrote, so the soloist has a choice. One cadenza is lighter and sprints like a scherzo; the other uses a consistently thicker texture with rich chords.

Both cadenza possibilities converge as solo instruments interact with the pianist. Question: Which of the two cadenzas did Alexander Beyer play tonight?

II Intermezzo. Adagio (F-sharp minor)
An Obsessive Intermezzo
The second movement fixates upon the four-note motive stated immediately by the first violins. Variations and transformations of a melody, stated by the oboe, in which this motive is present is the compositional signature that unifies all of the changes of attitude that can be heard in this movement.

Sliding Down and Disappearing Warmness
The piano enters with dramatic and conflicted music in F-sharp minor that seems to spin and slide downward. It settles into D-flat major in an atmosphere that is warm and elegant. The melodic idea of the first section is recast in this new sound world. This warmness never reappears in the movement…it disappears with a high trill.

Find that Fandango
A charming interlude with brilliant repeated notes breaks out in C-sharp minor; it is one of the lovely irrational surprises in this concerto.

No Stopping Allowed
A thrilling and rousing closing prepares for the finale, which follows the second movement without a pause.

III. Finale: Alla breve (D minor ending in major)
Release the Hounds
This movement begins with music of the hunt. After a crystalline restatement in the highest register of the piano the orchestra drives us into an energetic transition built on charges and gallops. Different as it sounds, most of the ideas presented derive from those of the first movement.

Beware of Sudden Lyricism
Without warning the music breaks lyrical in G major and we hear a sweet tune in triplets over an obsessive rhythmic drive. This section closes with a march . The soloist is silent. The music slows and finally stills.

A Playful Development and a Reminiscence
Marked “scherzando” the development begins as the piano voices mercurial and playful figuration. Articulate piano writing often sweeps through the highest register of the instrument. A bright and dreamy interlude is played by the piano alone. There is a ghostly reappearance of music from the first movement with interjections from flute and horn. Both the third concerto and the second symphony have moments of reminiscence like this one. Just before ending this section the piano writing swirls higher until it vanishes in silence. A brief but soulful chorale is sounded by the piano.

Hounds Return; then a Nightmarish Gallop and Apotheosis
Music of the hunt is developed and recapitulated. Charges and gallops follow as they did before. Suddenly an unexpectedly nightmarish passage opens. At the highest point the piano prepares us for a final transformation of the lyrical theme as a culmination and apotheosis to the entire work.

Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943)
Symphony No. 2 in E Minor, Op. 27

World Premiere: January 28, 1908
Most Recent Performance by GBS: April 10, 1999

Infernal Symphonies
“To hell with them,” wrote Rachmaninoff to a friend. “I do not know how to write symphonies, and besides I have no real desire to write them.” His reference to the underworld may have been more than a simple use of idiom.

“If there were a conservatory in Hell,” wrote composer César Cui in an infamous review of Rachmaninoff’s first symphony, “and if one of its talented students were to compose a symphony like Mr. Rachmaninoff's, then he would have fulfilled his task brilliantly and would delight the inhabitants of Hell.”

Confronting his Past
Rachmaninoff himself felt that his first symphony was a failure. Twelve years later he drafted the new symphony in secret while living in Dresden, then completed it during a summer at the family home in Russia called Ivanovka. Rachmaninoff conducted the first performance in St. Petersburg.

Strange but True
The manuscript of Rachmaninoff’s second symphony was missing for almost 100 years. The 320-page handwritten document resurfaced in the estate of a collector. The day before it was to be sold in a Sotheby auction in December 2004 the Rachmaninoff family took out an injunction that successfully stopped the sale. The manuscript ended up on permanent loan to the British Library—the same place where the manuscript to the third piano concerto resides. The manuscript for the first symphony is still missing…have you checked your attic?

I. (Largo) — Allegro moderato (E minor)

Oscillation
The first moments of this piece are elemental. Several rhythmic and melodic ideas that are developed throughout the entire symphony derive from the opening gestures. Concentrate on the unusual line played by the cellos and basses as the work opens—this seven-note figure oscillates unpredictably and is a perfect symbol for the attitude that Rachmaninoff sought.

After two invocations the introduction finds intensities quickly and expands in wave upon wave of exhilarating sound. Release of this energy is deliberate and lengthy and the introduction closes with music for solo english horn.

Song Without Words
The allegro moderato begins in a lyrical mood—like a song without words—and is played throughout by the violins. Both verses of this imaginary song are repeated and slightly varied.

Music of Dance
Just after the solo clarinet plays we enter the second theme group dancing. Winds and low strings alternate, but soon the violins advance the melodic progress. A restatement of this dance begins in the cellos, but violins find it again and extend it breathlessly; floating.

Development
The start of the development is clearly marked: listen for solo violin played by the concertmaster. The song without words is then developed by the clarinet as ideas begin to mix and combine. Suddenly the music seems to freeze and invocations from introduction are developed but then abandoned. A long escalation builds and pushes the music forward. The music quiets.

Surprises in Closing
The dancing second theme group returns but in the new color that E major brings. Later, a horn solo brings us to a coda that shifts colors and attitudes unexpectedly and sounds like a second development. This movement closes with unfinished business.

II. Allegro molto (A minor)
Scherzo with Surprises
The charismatic and bright energy of this movement opens with rustic string playing and powerful sectional horn writing. A surprise is in store as the texture thins to a solo clarinet: the first section of this scherzo is in three parts. A lyrical interlude played by section violins forms the centerpiece. The transition back to the scherzo is gradual and quite masterful.

A Trio for Auditions
The trio bursts forth with a tricky line for the strings that frequently finds its way into orchestral auditions. This is a perpetuum mobile that maintains its energy as it slips into a march played by brass and percussion in F major. With a few sparks as it shifts gears the opening of the trio is developed and is used to build back to a return of the scherzo.

Ending Quietly
Unexpectedly, two oscillating brass fanfares are pasted into the process late in this movement which comes to a close abruptly with quiet chattering. Like the first movement the second ends slightly off-balance.

III. Adagio (A major)
Viola Powered Frictions
As you are blown away by the iconic melody that opens this movement, listen for the friction as the tune rubs against the triplets played by the viola section. As soon as this gorgeous tune is exposed it vanishes. An extended clarinet solo becomes a lesson in sonic floating. Just when you imagine it is no longer possible to find your way back, the orchestra voices the opening tune again.

A Carmen with Hits but no Habanera
If you were around in the mid-1970s you might know the tune of the third movement from a different context. It was lifted by Eric Carmen for the chorus of his hit song “Never Gonna Fall in Love Again.”

Interlude, Escalation and a Complete Stop
occupy the next several minutes of music. Typical of the Rachmaninoff style, the music gathers energy broadly. At the most climatic moment the orchestra sings the first notes of the iconic melody but in a strange new key. The music moves away, downshifting toward a complete stop.

A Reversal of Colors
The plan that opens this movement is now reversed: the opening motive is sounded by solo instruments: horn, solo violin, english horn, flute and finally clarinet. Then, strings play the tune that the clarinet played earlier.

Grace and Resolution
The coda is a bright and gentle unwinding with a powerful final prayer. This movement brings grace and resolution across the prior movements.

IV. Allegro vivace (E major)

Rachmaninoff’s Laugh
The legendary pianist Benno Moiseiwitsch recalled Rachmaninoff’s response to humor:

“He would toss his head back, open his mouth wide, and wrinkles would form around his eyes. Tears would stream down his face, but he never made a sound.”

The sound of Rachmaninoff’s laughter is encoded in his music—the opening section of this music is sonic laughter. But the festivity comes to an abrupt halt with a stopped horn and is replaced by a subdued march that gradually escalates toward a restatement of the festive music.

One Last Mega-Tune and a Fleeting Glimpse of the Past
Cymbals crash and a brief transition leads us to one last powerful and lyrical tune in the section strings. After an interlude the lyrical tune is restated and then the music gradually fades and cadences. In a flight of fancy Rachmaninoff quietly quotes six measures of the third movement then moves away.