Monday, February 24, 2025

Winter Journeys

I was on February vacation last week, and though I didn't have a chance to escape our cold winter weather, I did have some time to take walks, listen to music, see some movies, and muse to myself about connections among these experiences. Early in the week, I already knew I'd be hearing acclaimed pianists Yuja Wang and Víkingur Ólafsson in a Friday duo-piano recital which would feature Schubert's remarkable Fantasy in F Minor for two pianists at one piano - so I chose to listen to that on a cold, gloomy, colorless Thursday afternoon walk.

The piano is such a generally self-sufficient instrument that piano duets are usually more about creating an opportunity for social music-making than they are about epic musical statements. Even works for two pianos, while allowing for some really big sonic energy, can seem excessive and without the advantage other chamber ensembles have of coloristic diversity resulting from the use of varied instruments. The kinds of textures enabled by four hands at one piano can shine more light on the delicate upper reaches of the instrument and can make it easier to weave multiple contrapuntal threads together than two hands can naturally handle. But there's still something surprising about how far Schubert was able to push this otherwise modest ensemble in this unique and unsettling fantasy. And no matter how much pianists like to talk about coloristic sonic possibilities, the sound of a piano still has a distinctly black-and-white (or grayscale?) character, which I believe Schubert uses to advantage here. 

Anyway, almost as soon as the familiar haunting theme began on my Bose headphones, I thought how appropriate it was for the setting. There's so much I could say about this music, its unusual structure, its moments that sound like ice cracking open, but I was especially surprised by my reaction to the recapitulation which begins at the 12:53 mark in the video below. Although it begins as an exact repetition of the opening, I was struck by how different this music sounded after all that had come before.



This caused my mind to wander (to return!) unexpectedly to the movie my wife and I had seen in a theater the night before. The Return is a 2024 film which depicts the final "arrival back home" part of The Odyssey. We had gone to see it because it was playing at a local arthouse cinema, but didn't know much about it going in. I didn't love everything about it, but it is brutally honest as a depiction of what it means to return to a home that is no longer what it was - and the familiar events I've often thought of in high-minded literary context lead to an extremely violent and disturbing conclusion.

I'm not sure Schubert's Fantasy can be said to end with quite such an obvious bloodbath, but after the recapitulation first seems simply to be going home, a violently contrapuntal coda arrives [14:25] to dispel any sense that things will be the same. Although I wouldn't want to draw any one-to-one correspondences between these works of Homer and Schubert, there is a "Homer-ically episodic and adventurous quality to Schubert's Fantasy with its "trills gone wild" section [4:30], a tender love duet [5:24] and the swashbuckling scherzo  (beginning at 7:12) that soon follows - plus the unsettling return [12:53] and the devastating finish. In short, it's remarkable that Schubert could pour so much depth of human experience into what first might seem to be a humble parlor duet - which would've been played on a much more modest instrument than the TWO nine-foot Steinways Wang and Olafsson used Friday night. 

I could do a whole philosophical exploration on the propriety of using two pianos for this music intended for two pianists sitting side-by-side at one instrument, but will save that for later - or never. I will add that I met up a few hours before the Symphony Hall performance with the friend who had invited me. She and I read through the Schubert together, and though it was hardly polished, I think my three experiences of this music (via headphones on a walk in 20 degree weather, sightreading with a friend, and listening with 2500 other people) were all worthwhile and offered usefully different perspectives. For the record, the Wang/Olafsson performance was exceptionally well-played, although I'm not sure this music is most at home in a space as large as Symphony Hall, even with an extra piano thrown in. 

And now it's time to end this winter journal journey by observing that today is the 18th birthday of this blog. MMmusing can now vote! As a special birthday offering, I'm uploading something Schubertian on an unusually large multimedia scale. When it comes to walking through snow and ice in the depths of winter, nothing captures that experience like Schubert's song-cycle Winterreise which, like the Fantasy, was written in the composer's final year. In fact, all of my favorite Schubert comes from this final year: Winterreise, the Fantasy in F Minor, the Cello Quintet (string quartet plus extra cello), the Piano Trio No.2 in E-flat, and the Piano Sonata in B-flat. It's unbelievable that one person wrote all of this earth-shattering music in a year in which his young and troubled life was coming to a much too early end. 

The experience of listening to the Fantasy on a wintry walk prompted me to listen to a performance of Winterreise from 1997 in which I collaborated with a wonderful, expressive, and very intelligent bass, Mark Risinger. (Mark is also a world-class Handel scholar.) There's no video from that performance, but now that it's almost thirty years old (which is almost as long as Schubert lived), I really enjoyed listening to it and reliving the amazing experience of learning and performing it. As a one-off live performance, of course it isn't perfect, but I think it captures the music quite well, so it's worth sharing. Honestly, it's probably my favorite Winterreise recording, with no apology for personal bias.

Rather than add a score to follow, I've uploaded the video with the German text alongside English translations - I'm not sure I even knew these texts myself very well back in 1997, but I think Schubert's music often does a lot of the work.

Happy MMmusing Day. Enjoy this bitter walk through ice, snow, heartache, and death alongside a hurdy-gurdy! [direct link here]


Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Christmas Eve 2024

It's been a good year on the blog, though the last month has been quiet due to a very busy work schedule. For Christmas Eve this year, here's a brand new work I wrote for our church's Lessons and Carols service as sung by the choir on Sunday. I only wrote this over Thanksgiving weekend, so they had less than a month to learn it, and we had only one and a half run-throughs with the strings.

Christina Rossetti is quite well-known for a couple of other poems which have become well-known Christmas hymns: In the bleak midwinter (set by Holst, and even better by Darke) and Love came down at Christmas. But I thought this poem, which is new to me, has a very special quality with its emphasis on paradox and the lovely "refrain" ending to each stanza. My goal in setting it was to bring out this mysterious quality, but I won't say too much about the technical aspects for now - I still have shopping to do! 

Here are Rossetti's words:

Christmas hath a darkness
   Brighter than the blazing noon,
Christmas hath a chillness
   Warmer than the heat of June,
Christmas hath a beauty
   Lovelier than the world can show:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
   Brought for us so low.  

Earth, strike up your music,
   Birds that sing and bells that ring;
Heaven hath answering music
   For all Angels soon to sing:
Earth, put on your whitest
   Bridal robe of spotless snow:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
   Brought for us so low.

And here's what it sounds like. [This is the live recording with no edits, although I did supplement it here with a backdrop from the digital practice version I'd made just to help smooth out the room sound.]



OK, I will say one technical thing about the music, which was actually in part an accident. The first five pitches (A-G-F-D-C#) of the main melody (introduced by violin and sung by the women right after) are also the five pitches with which that final couplet concludes both stanzas. I don't think I did this intentionally, but I was very satisfied when I realized it was so.

Merry Christmas.



Ghosts of Christmas Past:


Monday, November 18, 2024

Carousel Memories (Emptying the Desk Drawer #5)

November is off to a busy start, so I'll express my nostalgia for the bygone days of September and October (when I had a lighter teaching schedule and was a little younger) with this recording I made late one October night after a recital. This wistful little waltz by Dick Hyman was written for the soundtrack of Woody Allen's 1985 The Purple Rose of Cairo - which is, perhaps, my favorite movie of all time. It is an almost perfect film, lighthearted and clever but also touching and sad. Set in 1935, there's plenty of fun music from the era, but Hyman's Carousel Memories is the music that stays with me (ok, also this). The film celebrates the escapism that movies provide while also critiquing the emptiness at the end of such escapes. Although the music was written in the 80s, it expresses nostalgia not only for the 30s, but also for hopes and dreams which turn out to be unrealistic. 

Anyway, if you haven't seen it, you should! And if you only have 60 seconds, try these Carousel Memories. (You may hear the version used on the soundtrack here. You may hear Hyman playing it live and then riffing on it here.) I don't have a published score, so my little version is something I worked out, though I've realized it differs in some details from both of the links posted parenthetically. It has always sounded to me like something which could almost fit into one of Robert Schumann's collections such as Carnaval, Davidsbündlertänze, or Scenes from Childhood. This is a commentary both on the elegance of Hyman's work and the forward-looking expressive world of Schumann. In other words, both Hyman and Schumann should be flattered by the comparison (if either were to care about my opinion).



More from this casual fall series of leftovers...

Monday, November 4, 2024

Bracing Bruckner (Emptying the Desk Drawer #4)

A couple of months ago, a friend shared an unusual radio station tribute to the great Austrian composer Anton Bruckner on the occasion of his 200th birthday. I believe you may still view it here - and be sure to unmute the sound! And what sound do you hear paired with a picture of the composer and some basic biographical background. Aching strings? A richly scored brass chorale? A sublime motet? Hyperpop party music with Chipmunk-style vocals and a heavy backbeat?




Yes, it was something closest to the latter. Everything about this choice is fairly incomprehensible aside from the fact that I'm guessing the music used was royalty-free? Maybe? It's especially odd since, unlike fellow Vienna-based composers Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven - all known to write comical, lighthearted music at times - Bruckner probably has about the most serious reputation one can imagine. He wrote large-scaled symphonies and solemn sacred music, not lighthearted party pieces.

Anyway, I cannot explain the music choice, but I couldn't resist trying to Brucknerize it. I will admit that I'm not one of those dedicated Brucknerians who knows every symphony and recording and all the alternate versions. But I think the beginning of the 7th Symphony is one of the most radiantly beautiful things ever written - perhaps the polar opposite of the above. So, of course, I combined them:


And, as always, I found the combination/contrast more compelling than I would've expected. The near-silent rustling with which Bruckner begins is basically completely lost, but the starting note of THAT cello melody comes into focus and while the original soundtrack keeps time (in a way that Bruckner intentionally does not do), there are some interesting interactions between this tune and the pop bass line. Look, it's not music anyone was asking for, but there's something charming about this marriage of the highly commercial and the idealized abstract. Even though I chose to have Bruckner be what recedes here, there's a sense in which his music has come to free us from the banal, if only for a moment.

Your mileage may vary.

===============

This post is part of a continuing series in which silly multimedia things I create for social media are given a slightly more permanent home here and on YouTube. See also:

Thursday, October 31, 2024

Haydnween (Emptying the Desk Drawer #3)

This new entry in my "Emptying Out the Desk Drawer" series, meant to preserve random little things I created for social media, is actually a cheat because, far from gathering dust in a corner, this ghastly creation is bursting with country-fresh flavor. I just made it a few hours ago in as little time as possible - which was part of the point. Think of it as Transcription Tartare.

Quick backstory. I have an ongoing Facebook group chat about many things musical. The subject of my general lack of interest in (and, ok, outright dissing of) Haydn's music had come up. Oh, right, it came up because I posted this image.


I'm not here to make a grand case about Haydn's over-ratedness, and as ever, I'm happy to admit that this may be a failing on my part. But I'll just summarize by saying that, while I absolutely appreciate his craftsmanship and his enormously positive influence on the evolution of musical style (Beethoven without Haydn isn't Beethoven), his gestures (and Haydn's music is very gestural) tend not to inspire much of an emotional reaction in me. Even a legendary "supposed to be stirring" chorus like The Heavens are Telling mostly just inspires me to do things like this

Also worth mentioning that there IS some Haydn I truly love. I once wrote about a string quartet movement which I fell for so much that I recorded it as a piano solo. And I think his C Major Cello Concerto is one of the most perfect pieces ever written. I really, really love every second of it. It's possible that I love this piece in part because I got to know it before I knew the Classical Style really well, and so the gestures and developmental techniques feel completely fresh and original. I'll confess there's also a part of me that's always wondered if maybe...just maybe...he didn't write it since it was only discovered in 1961. Suspicious?

It does have some Haydnesque features; most notably, its themes and some of its passagework are quite similar to things in his Violin Concerto in C Major, a work which has always bored me to tears. (I've accompanied it many, many times.) Someone might fairly say, "if you love the cello concerto, you should at least like this." But it simply doesn't do anything for me, harmless as it is. It's just there. The conspiracy-theorist in me would be tempted to say, "maybe some enterprising cellist decided it would be nice to have a Haydn cello concerto,* wrote it in the style of the violin concerto, but then added some more interesting ideas inspired by what we've learned since the 18th century." I understand that this is unlikely and probably heresy. But I do think it sometimes.

So, in response to the picture above, one friend - a big Haydn fan - posted a recording of the very same violin concerto, knowing it would annoy me. Another gracious friend in the group wrote:
"this piece is well-crafted—making good musical sense, artfully blending high energy with more reflective moods, etc. But whether one actually likes listening to it is a matter of taste. I'll say no more, except to make it understood that I in no way desire to undermine [Friend #1]'s enjoyment of the piece."

To which I responded:

"I desire to undermine [Friend #1]'s enjoyment of the piece."

This was just because I thought it was a funny thing to say, but of course, I immediately thought of how I might carry out this undermining. My pride in what I'm about to post comes from how quickly it was generated and how diligently I avoided doing anything to make it not sound awful. I quickly found MIDI data for the first movement, entered this into Soundtrap (perfectly useful educational software for producing music, but with a not so sophisticated sound palette), assigned the parts to digital saxophones, added the most obnoxiously heavy and uncool drum part I could find in twelve seconds and....that's about it. (OK, I did add two sound effects.) 

The point is, usually even when making something intentionally bad, I would look to refine the mix, maybe pan parts left and right to add clarity, do some EQ work, smooth things out with reverb, adjust some balances, maybe mix in a few different-sounding instruments. Maybe be disappointed that the only option provided for "baritone sax" was "Baritone Sax - Staccato."  If nothing else, maybe tweak the alignment so the drums are precisely on the beat. Nope. The point here was to make this sound as bad and unproduced as possible. 

So, of course....I love it. I've already said way too much to introduce it, but will finish by saying it seems like a natural thing to post on Halloween. Booo!




* yes, there is that other Haydn cello concerto, but it interests me much, much less.