Entrance to Philosophy Hall on the Columbia University Campus. Notice the copy
of Rodin's statue The Thinker.
The large room in Philosophy Hall where musical performances are given.
Notice the pianist Stephen Gosling on the left.
Imagine asking four very different composers to create works based on the same basic material. This is essentially what Ives does with his Concord Sonata. Each of the four movements probes the ideas and thoughts of New England literary transcendentalists. Each movement takes the same core material and works with it in a different way. In the first movement, the rhetorical and powerful voice of Ralph Waldo Emerson holds forth. In the second, the bizarre and fantastical mind of Nathaniel Hawthorne is revealed in a break-neck journey. In the third, the listener peers through the window of the Alcott home to see the Alcott family in an unexpected moment. And in the final movement, the introspection and meditations of Henry David Thoreau are explored.
The Concord Sonata is one of the mountain peaks of piano literature that few attempt to climb and fewer conquer. Pianist Stephen Gosling, though obviously in full mastery of the score, conveyed the craggy and slippery textures of the work with an appropriate sense of struggle. At the end, the flutist Immanuel Davis joined Gosling as both conveyed the meditations of Thoreau beside his beloved Walden Pond.
As the philosophical and literary dimensions of the work are of utmost importance it was so appropriate that the performance took pace in Philosophy Hall at Columbia University.
The following day, I returned to Philosophy Hall to hear a short recital of Ives songs performed by lyric soprano Sarah Wolfson and pianist Lydia Brown. Appropriately, the recital began with Ives's song "Thoreau" which uses the same materials as the final movement of the Concord Sonata. The recital was a nice overview of the many dimensions of Ives's songs and included such audience favorites as "Memories" and "At the river?"
Pavlina Dukovska is on the left.
The topic of her lecture was "Franz Liszt and Russian Musical Culture: Liszt Traditions in Russian Music Performing Art, and Teaching." She began by noting that in the lobby of the Great Hall at the Moscow Conservatory there is a single, central portrait on display--a portrait of Franz Liszt. And this portrait is not of the young, dashing Liszt but rather of the old Abbe Liszt looking out "with steely eyes and a severe countenance." According to Sorokina, 19th century Russian piano music can be divided into two halves, pre-Liszt and post-Liszt. In the early 19th century, piano music, and instrumental music in general, was essentially light, rather frivolous and intended for entertainment. There was no great tradition of keyboard music. There were very few harpsichords and clavichords. The late 18th and early 19th century fortepiano was the foundation for piano music.
As Russia moved into the 19th century the nobility wanted to prove that Russia was not a backwater, and so many Russians went to western and central Europe to study. Likewise, musicians and artists from these areas came to Russia. The one musician to strike a strong chord with the Russians was the Irish pianist John Field. Field reported on his hearing of Liszt in Paris and so the Russians greatly anticipated Liszt's visit to Russia in 1841. Sorokina noted all of the unusual aspects of Liszt's performances in Moscow and St. Petersburg. He used two pianos so that he could move from one to the other so as to give each side of the hall a chance to view him at the keyboard and so that he could also view both sides of the audience. A platform was built to elevate the pianos. Liszt was the only performer. Liszt performed from memory. None of this pointed to a casual evening of pleasant music. He literally and symbolically elevated the status of instrumental music for Russians.
Liszt loved Russia and returned several times. He taught a number of Russians who would go on to perform and teach in any parts of Russia. He performed duet and duo music with Anton Rubinstein. He was very supportive of the composer Glinka and was especially interested in the Russian Five. He even participated in a collective composition by the Five. Alexander Siloti was one of Liszt's favorite students.
For the generation of performers and composers who emerged at the beginning of the 20th century Liszt was mythical figure. Russians such as Scriabin and Rachmaninoff reflected the legacy of Liszt. Sorokina noted similarities between Liszt's 3rd Mephisto Waltz and Scriabin's Satanic Poem.
Sorokina singled out pianist and teacher Vera Timanova for discussion. Timanova studied with Liszt for 14 years and continued performing well until the 20th century. Unfortunately, the fact that she came from a well-to-family and, during the years immediately following the Russian Revolution, was critical of the Bolsheviks caused problems for her. Although in her later years a pension allowed her to live modestly she was found dead from starvation following the Siege of Leningrad in 1942.
Sorokina concluded her talk by noting that Liszt's influence on Russian music and culture was possibly mainly due to the fact that he believed in the future of Russia, not only in music but in science, literature, and all of the arts. Russia was an awakening "sleeping giant."
After a break to take a walk and get some dinner, I headed up to the Manhattan School of Music for an evening performance by MSM's contemporary performance program ensemble Tactus. The concert was preceded by a talk on Gerard Grisey's Periodes by a student in the MSM Contemporary Performance Program, Felix Behringer. His talk was supported by examples performed by he ensemble. One of the main points of the talk was the grounding of the group with which Grisey is associated, the Spectralists, in listener perception of music. Periodes puts any of the theories developed by this group into practice.
Contemporary Performance Studies student Felix Behringer lectures.
The poster for the concert is projected on the screen.
The Head of Orpheus by Nicholas Maw for soprano and two clarinet got the program off to a good start. The short poem by Robert Kelly provides a retelling of the story of Orpheus and Euridice but focuses on Orpheus and his fate. Maw gives the clarinets the chance to paint the text almost constantly while the singer mainly intones it at a high register. This is a very effective setting.
The Head of Orpheus was followed by Three Pieces for String Quartet by Igor Stravinsky. These three pieces were later transcribed for orchestra where Stravinsky gave them titles ("Dance," "Eccentric," and "Canticle"). The first piece clearly reflects Stravinsky's Russian nationalist style, with its folk tunes, drones, and meter changes. The performers appropriately created the timbres of different folk instruments in their lively interpretation. The second piece most assuredly conveyed eccentricity with its abrupt changes of mood and often satirical quality. The final piece, the most extended of the set, requires the utmost focus and ensemble listening of the set. A dissonant meditation having extremely refined sonorities, it closed with a mournful three-note motive.
Fondamentale by Olga Neuwirth for bass clarinet, saxophones and cello was probably the most abstract piece of the program. In addition to the unusual combination of tone colors, Neuwirth calls for the instrumentalists to use extended techniques. In addition, one instrument often takes over particular sound from another so the ensemble needs to be seamless. This work is yet another example of composers taking aesthetic and stylistic cues from the visual arts, in this case, in my opinion, the abstract expressionists. Neuwirth explores the expressive and emotional power of color, not just its atmospheric qualities
Stray Birds by Ursula Malok for soprano, flutes and cello is a setting of a text by the Hindu mystic Rabindranath Tagore. Mamlok's setting is filled with bits of text painting. All three timbres are used quite effectively to convey the nature-filled poetry.
Although the program was, up to this point, nicely varied, some humor or comedic elements would have been wlecomed and both came just in time with a delightful performance of The Ugly Duckling (Part I) by Jon Deak for soprano and double bass. The setting of this well-known tale by Hans Christian Andersen delighted the audience with its free-spirited, whimsical style. The singer was sometimes narrator, sometimes diva and sometimes buffoon. The double bass player (representing the ugly duckling, of course), had her own fun reacting to the text.
At one point, the singer grabbed the bow from the bass player and began plucking the strings herself. It was announced that Part 2 would be performed next year!
Two Etudes for piano (Nos.1 and 5) by Korean composer Unsuk Chin are heavily indebted to both Messiaen and Ligeti. Both are examples of lively "chandelier" music. Chin's etudes also pay homage to the spectralists in that they are based on the C-overtone series. The light, treble-oriented first etude creates an ethereal atmosphere while the second (which is actually the final etude of a series of etudes) is much more animated and playful. Both etudes require quick reflexes along with maximum attention to color and tone which the pianist Chris Goddard was more than able to supply.
After two lighter and more playful groupings it was time for a turn back to the serious. Changing Light by Kaija Saariaho for soprano and violin is a very delicate and effective setting of a text by Rabbi Jules Harlow. Beautiful shimmering sounds projected by the violin are balanced by a poignant vocal line that caresses the text. Saariaho has a way of humanizing a highly cerebral process of composition.
The same cannot be said for Periodes (from Espaces acoustiques) by Gerard Grisey for flute, clarinet, trombone, violin, viola, cello, and double bass. In addition to his study of the nature of sound using electronic tools to analyze and sort out the multifarious components of sound, Grisey has also studied psychoacoustics, whose main objective is to explore human reaction to sound. In works such as Periodes, Grisey brings these two interests together. In some respects, the work he as done reflects to my mind yet another attempt to find a replacement for traditional Western tonality. The tension and relaxation of tonality, its organizing power, its malleability, and its resonance with listeners of many levels of sophistication and experience are all qualities that some alternatives to tonality, such as serialism, have rarely been able to achieve.
The problem with Periodes, as I see it, is that is never quite loses the smell and feel of the laboratory. It is an engaging work but does not quite cross over into the human experience. Part of this might be that the performers, as excellent as they were, were not yet seasoned enough to go the extra distance to put the work across. A confusing aspect of the work is the fact that near its end, Grisey inserts some Satiesque comments on the score that convey lots of humor and whimsy. These traits do not come across in the music up to that point and so the reason for including them is puzzling. Perhaps, if the entire work is thought of more whimsically, it might come across more convincingly.
It's days such as this that remind me of why I wanted to come to NYC in the first place.
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