The romantic imagination cannot help but ignite in contemplation of the life of Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710-1736), the sickly son of a surveyor, with his deformed leg and constant tubercular illnesses, who changed the musical world and died unknown at the age of 26. He rose through standard musical training, paid through performances as a choirboy and later as a violinist, and become maestro di cappella to Prince Ferdinando Colonna Stigliano in Naples at age 21. It was there that he revitalized the art of comic opera with the infamous work "La serva padronna." By 1735, he was too sick to maintain his duties for the prince and left for a nearby monastery, where his famous Stabat Mater was written for 26 Neapolitan ducats, a sum which did not cover the costs of the his own burial two months later.
(Performance by Countertenor Andreas Scholl and Soprano Barbara Bonney)
The opening movement develops three settings of the first tercet of the traditional latin Stabat Mater text:
Stabat mater dolorosa (The mother of sorrows)
juxta Crucem lacrimosa, (stood in tears beside)
dum pendebat Filius. (her son's cross)
This is a setting of continual compressions:
After the introduction, the first setting [0:57] opens with lines that rise through suspensions in an unforgettable portrayal of suffering. The first line is set only once, but the second and third lines are each echoed. The second line of the tercet is sung first by the soprano [1:25] alone and then by the countertenor alone [1:35]. The third line in the tercet [1:44] is sung in harmony and echoed in harmony. In this echo the soprano begins in advance of the countertenor.
The second setting of the text [2:18] is compressed with each line articulated only once, and punctuated by vocal silence.
The final setting is compressed into a diamond. Over the deceptive cadence associated with the introduction [0:38-0:49], the last word of line one and the last word of line two are articulated [3:20]. The final line is set sotto voce with the countertenor entering in advance of the soprano.
This performance by Les Talens Lyriques conducted by Christophe Rousset is crisp, clean and haunted. It sings of sorrows and of disappearances.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
James Joyce, M'appari, and a cool old guitar
(James Joyce playing a guitar in 1915)
In the 11th episode of Ulysses by James Joyce, nicknamed "sirens," there is a confluence of rhythms and words always worth another look.
It is shortly after 4 pm in the bar at the Ormond Hotel. Simon Dedalus sings "M'appari tutto amor" from Martha by Flotow. Here is an irresistible early recording of that aria sung by Aristodemo Giorgini to put you in the mood:
The first stanza:
M'appari tutt' amor, (Your apparition full of love)
il mio sguardo l'incontro; (and my sorrow departed)
bella si che il mio cor, (so beautiful that my heart)
ansioso a lei volo; (flew with longing)
Bloom is writing a letter to someone named Martha as this song commences and he notes the coincidence. He then wanders into a lovely riff:
"Numbers it is. All music when you come to think. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Vibrations: chords those are. One plus two plus six is seven. Do anything you like with figures juggling. Always find out this equal to that. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. He doesn’t see my mourning. Callous: all for his own gut. Musemathematics. And you think you’re listening to the etherial. But suppose you said it like: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Fall quite flat. It’s on account of the sounds it is."
It is...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Jeffrey Biegel plays Chopin Andante Spinato
Yesterday pianist Jeffrey Biegel posted his work on Chopin's Andante Spinato in a recording made in his home "reviewing this lovely work for the weekend's performance with orchestra:"
Biegel is one of the more enterprising and technologically flexible pianists on the scene. I had the opportunity to work with him a few times in the late 90s at The Music Festival of the Hamptons and have reviewed his playing in the Hartford Courant. He has a unique pianistic voice and a professional presence that is refreshing and often unexpected. Who knows where, or through what medium, he will next appear?
This video was a welcome surprise this morning.
Until recently domestic music making was largely undocumented. A great deal of what is out on the net could perhaps have remained undocumented even for its occasional sweetness. But this video is a great example of a digital invitation to hear a professional pianist think through a familiar work.
The Andante Spinato is an essay in prolonged ecstasy. The opening section of this song without words is set in three verses: in G major [0:11], an embellished restatement [0:30], and an excursion through e minor [0:52]. Biegel spins effortless lyricism.
[1:30] brings back the opening verses in G major with a continued sense of notated improvisation. One of my favorite parts of this recording is the restatement at [1:51] where Biegel voices up the unexpected companion that joins the melody. Gorgeous playing.
This larger section dissolves in winding figuration [2:15]. Biegel finds musical humor in the fragments appended like an after-thought [2:38] that allow this section to land.
The wonderful central chorale in C major, marked "semplice" begins at [2:45]. Biegel is paying attention to details in the notated phrase groupings that differ in the right and left hands. He also makes the triplets sound as unexpected and odd as they actually are [3:11], often pianists attempt to make them sound "normal."
The winding figuration of the codetta that closed the first section returns [3:40]. This section makes the semplice sound like a daydream. And were it not for the reappearance at [4:11] one could be convinced that it was imaginary.
All pianos on the east coast are stressed from the heat and humidity we have felt all month. "The hammers have been filed and re-shaped and need some voicing" said Biegel. The upper register tuning is not perfect. But this video is not about perfection, it is about sharing. Sharing is its own perfection.
"Just me, at home," says Biegel in the uploader's comments. Biegel is more than "just."
Biegel is one of the more enterprising and technologically flexible pianists on the scene. I had the opportunity to work with him a few times in the late 90s at The Music Festival of the Hamptons and have reviewed his playing in the Hartford Courant. He has a unique pianistic voice and a professional presence that is refreshing and often unexpected. Who knows where, or through what medium, he will next appear?
This video was a welcome surprise this morning.
Until recently domestic music making was largely undocumented. A great deal of what is out on the net could perhaps have remained undocumented even for its occasional sweetness. But this video is a great example of a digital invitation to hear a professional pianist think through a familiar work.
The Andante Spinato is an essay in prolonged ecstasy. The opening section of this song without words is set in three verses: in G major [0:11], an embellished restatement [0:30], and an excursion through e minor [0:52]. Biegel spins effortless lyricism.
[1:30] brings back the opening verses in G major with a continued sense of notated improvisation. One of my favorite parts of this recording is the restatement at [1:51] where Biegel voices up the unexpected companion that joins the melody. Gorgeous playing.
This larger section dissolves in winding figuration [2:15]. Biegel finds musical humor in the fragments appended like an after-thought [2:38] that allow this section to land.
The wonderful central chorale in C major, marked "semplice" begins at [2:45]. Biegel is paying attention to details in the notated phrase groupings that differ in the right and left hands. He also makes the triplets sound as unexpected and odd as they actually are [3:11], often pianists attempt to make them sound "normal."
The winding figuration of the codetta that closed the first section returns [3:40]. This section makes the semplice sound like a daydream. And were it not for the reappearance at [4:11] one could be convinced that it was imaginary.
All pianos on the east coast are stressed from the heat and humidity we have felt all month. "The hammers have been filed and re-shaped and need some voicing" said Biegel. The upper register tuning is not perfect. But this video is not about perfection, it is about sharing. Sharing is its own perfection.
"Just me, at home," says Biegel in the uploader's comments. Biegel is more than "just."
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Hearing Bizet with Nietzsche
"Yesterday--would you believe it?" wrote Nietzsche, "I heard Bizet's masterwork for the 20th time." So opens his book known as "The Case of Wagner; A Musician's Problem."
"Again, I attended with a gentle devotion; I did not run away, again. This victory over my impatience surprises me. How fulfilling is such a work! One turns into a masterpiece with it.--And, indeed, I appeared to myself, every time that I heard Carmen, to be more of a philosopher, a better philosopher than I usually appear to myself: having become so patient, so happy, so East-Indian, so sedentary... To sit for five hours: the first step to sanctity!--May I say that Bizet's orchestral sound is the only one I can still endure?"
The music of Wagner and Bizet's Carmen were both experiencing rapid upward trajectories in popularity in 1888 when Nietzsche's book was first published. But they were not equal choices for Nietzsche. He knew Wagner quite well as a young man, so this shift in his alliances is significant.
Some writers have observed the relationship between Wagner and Nietzsche as having elements of a father/son dynamic because Nietzsche's father died when he was young and would have been more-or-less Wagner's age had he lived, and Wagner had children late in life but could have had children who were Nietzsche's age. The falling out between the two had all the complexities of family.
The vast majority of Nietzsche's text is directed against the works of Wagner. Wagner sought perfection in the total synthesis of all art forms. It is therefore a powerful thrust when Nietzsche describes perfection in Carmen:
"This music appears perfect to me. It approaches lightly, flexibly, courteously. It is pleasant, it does not perspire. 'That which is good is light, everything divine walks on tender feet': the first premise of my aesthetic. This music is vicious, refined, fatalistic: with it, it stays popular--it has the refinement of a race, not that of an individual. It is rich. It is precise. It builds, it organizes, accomplishes its goal."
I believe that one can also frame Nietzsche's perspective toward Carmen as a quasi-familial reaction:
"To repeat it: I become a better man when Bizet speaks to me, also a better musician, a better listener. Can one even still listen better?--I even bury my ears beneath this music, I hear its origin. It appears to me that I am experiencing its creation--[...] Bizet makes me fertile. Everything good makes me fertile. I have no other gratitude,--I also have no other proof for that which is good."
It is as though Nietzsche was rescued by Carmen. He leaves his Wagnerian family to elope with an opera.
"Here, another sensuality speaks, another sensitivity, another serenity," wrote Nietzsche, "Finally love, love that is translated back into nature! [...] Can you already see how much this music improves me?"
"Again, I attended with a gentle devotion; I did not run away, again. This victory over my impatience surprises me. How fulfilling is such a work! One turns into a masterpiece with it.--And, indeed, I appeared to myself, every time that I heard Carmen, to be more of a philosopher, a better philosopher than I usually appear to myself: having become so patient, so happy, so East-Indian, so sedentary... To sit for five hours: the first step to sanctity!--May I say that Bizet's orchestral sound is the only one I can still endure?"
The music of Wagner and Bizet's Carmen were both experiencing rapid upward trajectories in popularity in 1888 when Nietzsche's book was first published. But they were not equal choices for Nietzsche. He knew Wagner quite well as a young man, so this shift in his alliances is significant.
Some writers have observed the relationship between Wagner and Nietzsche as having elements of a father/son dynamic because Nietzsche's father died when he was young and would have been more-or-less Wagner's age had he lived, and Wagner had children late in life but could have had children who were Nietzsche's age. The falling out between the two had all the complexities of family.
The vast majority of Nietzsche's text is directed against the works of Wagner. Wagner sought perfection in the total synthesis of all art forms. It is therefore a powerful thrust when Nietzsche describes perfection in Carmen:
"This music appears perfect to me. It approaches lightly, flexibly, courteously. It is pleasant, it does not perspire. 'That which is good is light, everything divine walks on tender feet': the first premise of my aesthetic. This music is vicious, refined, fatalistic: with it, it stays popular--it has the refinement of a race, not that of an individual. It is rich. It is precise. It builds, it organizes, accomplishes its goal."
I believe that one can also frame Nietzsche's perspective toward Carmen as a quasi-familial reaction:
"To repeat it: I become a better man when Bizet speaks to me, also a better musician, a better listener. Can one even still listen better?--I even bury my ears beneath this music, I hear its origin. It appears to me that I am experiencing its creation--[...] Bizet makes me fertile. Everything good makes me fertile. I have no other gratitude,--I also have no other proof for that which is good."
It is as though Nietzsche was rescued by Carmen. He leaves his Wagnerian family to elope with an opera.
"Here, another sensuality speaks, another sensitivity, another serenity," wrote Nietzsche, "Finally love, love that is translated back into nature! [...] Can you already see how much this music improves me?"
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