If you saw my post last week, HERE, then you know that I’ve decided to listen to pieces by composers from a list I found entitled “Ten Young Composers Who Are Redefining Classical Music," HERE. Last week, I listened to “Sinfonia (for Orbiting Spheres)” by Mizzy Mazzoli, the first name on the list. This week I chose “Dawn” by the second-named composer, Dobrinka Tabakova.
To be honest, I had originally decided to listen to Tabakova’s “Concerto for Cello and Strings,” but I could only find the first movement on YouTube (HERE). I really liked what I was hearing, but I could not find the complete concerto -- either in one full-length video or in separate recordings of the individual movements (of which there are three: Turbulent, Longing, & Radiant). Therefore, I selected (at random) a piece for cello and string ensemble entitled “Dawn.” If you happened to have read my comments last week on Mazzoli’s piece, “Sinfonia (for Orbiting Spheres),” then you know that I had a difficult time dealing with the incongruence between the music and the title. I wrote, “I’m not quite sure exactly what I was expecting, but I was expecting something a little more spherical and a lot more orbital (whatever that means).” That was not the case with Tabakova’s “Dawn.” The piece evokes daybreak beautifully. As a matter of fact, for me the song called to mind Emily Dickinson’s lines, “I’ll tell you how the sun rose”: I’ll tell you how the Sun rose – A Ribbon at a time – The Steeples swam in Amethyst – The news, like Squirrels, ran – The Hills untied their Bonnets – The Bobolinks – begun – Then I said softly to myself – “That must have been the Sun”! This is the case with Tabakova’s piece -- the sun rises “a ribbon at a time,” first with a gorgeously tranquil cello solo, next with a response from a mellifluous violin -- as if to pass on the news of break of day. Soon lush string passages give added emphasis to the emerging light. This rich layering of euphony called to mind additional lines from Dickinson: The Skies can't keep their secret! They tell it to the Hills – The Hills just tell the Orchards – And they – the Daffodils! There’s also something spiritual about the piece, both literally and figuratively. There are intonations and subtle rhythms characteristic of African-American spirituals, and the overall tenor of the piece brought to mind a quote from Frank Lloyd Wright: “I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.” It’s a lovely piece. Here are some of the listeners observations in the comment section on YouTube (HERE):
Poetry in sound? Hmm. Maybe that’s why I kept thinking of lines by Emily Dickinson.
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I ran a Google-search this week (to be honest, I don’t even remember what I typed into the search field) and I came across this article, “Ten Young Composers Who Are Redefining Classical Music,” HERE. The first name on the list is Missy Mazzoli, so I decided to listen to a work by her this week. I also thought I’d just go down the list for the next nine weeks and listen to works by these ten composers. One caveat: I’ll be taking a break throughout most of October as I’ll be on a road trip down historic Route 66; therefore, I’ll be able to listen to works by six of the composers between now and the week of September 26, and then I’ll finish up with the final four composers starting the week of October 24. For this week, I selected Mazzoli’s “Sinfonia (For Orbiting Spheres).” I’ve been able to listen to the work once so far, so I plan to listen to it a few more times, and then I’ll post my comments and rating soon. Stay tuned. I know you’re familiar with that old adage, “you can’t judge a book by it’s cover,” so I suppose an extension of that saying would be not to judge a piece of classical music by its title, but I think I did just that. I’m not quite sure exactly what I was expecting, but I was expecting something a little more spherical and a lot more orbital (whatever that means).
Much of the work did sound somewhat outer-spacey, but the piece did not evoke heavenly bodies (though, to be fair, the title does not stipulate that the orbiting spheres are perched in the heavens) nor did it suggest movement in a circular course. There were hints throughout the piece of circumgyration created by chromatic slides that intimated the Doppler effect, though more often than not the execution was just the receding half of the effect and not the approaching shift in frequency. As a result, the motion of the piece seems more like a wobbling sway through a dreamscape rather than the spatial geometry of an orbicular rotation. Okay, let me get past my perceived incongruence with the work’s title. What if Ms. Mazzoli had just called it “Sinfonia No. 1,” would I have liked it any better? I’m not sure. The sinfonia begins with a quiet hum and soft, sliding glissandos in the strings as the orchestra builds to dissonant chords, though it is never cacophonous. At times the piece nears the sound of instruments warming up on stage, albeit with a little more harmony and structure -- like the texture of a murmuration of birds. Well, murmurations of birds are interesting to watch -- and this murmuration of reverberations was interesting to listen to -- but I don’t think it would be a “go to” piece when I want to hear classical music. Once again, as I've stated with some recent pieces I've listened to, I think this piece would move up my scale were I to hear it in a live performance. Again? Yes, again. I listened to this symphony last week, but when I was about to post my comments and rating, I came across an entirely different composition entitled "Symphony No. 2" with the same opus number by the same composer. What's up with that? If you know anything about this -- why there are two different symphonies by Grechaninov numbered "2" -- please fill me in. The first movement of the symphony I listened to last week is HERE. The other symphony I discovered later in the week is HERE. This week I'm going to listen to the second Symphony No. 2, and then I'll write about both number 2s. Stay tuned -- or should I say "stay two-ned"? UPDATE: MYSTERY SOLVED Okay, so it turns out there are NOT two different Symphonies No. 2 by Grechaninov. Instead, a recording on YouTube -- the very performance I listened to on Spotify -- has the movements in the wrong order, and they are identified incorrectly. I didn't know the symphony well enough to pick up on this last night when I thought I had stumbled upon a completely different Symphony No. 2. I figured this out today when I sat down to listen to both symphonies. First, I listened to the opening movement on this recording, HERE. Then I listened to the first movement of the symphony I had previously heard on Spotify featuring the Moscow RTV Symphony Orchestra, HERE. Then, I went back to the other symphony to listen to it's second movement and realized that it was what I had just listened to as the opening movement for the symphony with the Moscow RTV Orchestra. So here's how it breaks down: This recording, HERE, has the movements in the correct order (and the movements are very obviously in the correct order because the video has a score to the piece with which you can follow along). The Spotify and YouTube versions featuring the Moscow RTV Symphony Orchestra have the movements mixed up. They have the second movement of the symphony, HERE, labeled as the opening movement. What is labeled as the second movement, HERE, is really the third movement's scherzo (I had wondered why the conductor was taking the andante piece at such a clip). What is identified as the scherzo, HERE, is really the symphony's finale, and what is labeled as the finale, HERE, is really the symphony's opening movement. To recap:
So now that I have figured all of this out, what do I think of the symphony? I'll gather my thoughts and post my comments and rating soon. Stay tuned! LOL -- after all the confusion detailed above, I hope I have all my notes right for the correct movements of this work.
The true first movement of the symphony opens with short fanfares with brass and woodwinds followed by soft, sustained chords in the strings. This leads to pastoral passages with flute trills, soft woodwinds, and lush strings followed by a sunny refrain in the brass. Some of the movement conjures a jaunty ride in the country or perhaps a woodland hunt. The second movement, marked andante, is beautiful. It opens with a slow, quiet pulse in the strings, and then a tender lament by a solo clarinet soars above. There is a hint, to me, of Tchaikovsky’s famous horn solo from the second movement of his Symphony No. 5 (written in 1888), and other sections of the movement are quite Tchaikovsky-esque, especially in the sway and surge of lush string passages. The scherzo in the third movement is quite energetic and playful. Toward the end it sounds more than a bit Mussorgsky-esque. Of course, when I listened to this on my first go-round with the movements in the incorrect order, this was labeled “Andante,” and I was completely confused. I kept wondering why the conductor was taking it at such a clip. I even looked up a “list of tempos from slowest to fastest” (HERE), to see if I could figure out what was going on. Now I know that the movement was labeled incorrectly. The finale, marked allegro vivace, is a busy, hectic -- but not frantic -- piece where the melody bounces from section to section by way of abrupt and nimble eighth notes. Flurrying but not feverish, the movement is a foot-tapper to be sure. Overall, I did enjoy Grechaninov's Symphony No. 2. I loved the second movement, the andante (which, at first -- due to the mislabeled movements on Spotify -- I thought was the opening movement to the symphony). I'll admit, though, my brain is a bit fried after all of this confusion. Hopefully, things will go a little easier next week with whatever piece I pick to listen to. ;-)
Yikes! It's Saturday already, and the week is quickly disappearing. I've had a busy week, so I'm late in getting to Grechaninov's symphony, but I'll see if I can finish up my comments and rating today. I only had the chance to listen to the work once, earlier in the week, so I'll listen to it again and then complete this post later in the day. I'll confess right up front, though: Not only have I not heard this symphony before, I've never even heard of this composer, Alexander Grechaninov, a Russian Romantic composer. You can read a little bit about him HERE.
Composed in 1908, the symphony consists of four movements: I. Pastorale. Moderato assai e poco rubato II. Andante III. Scherzo. Vivo assai IV. Finale. Allegro vivace I got a chance to listen to the symphony earlier in the week, and then I listened once again today. On both of those occasions I listened on Spotify. Finally I started a YouTube version of the symphony on my laptop so that I could hear it again as I began to type my thoughts, but now I am confused as hell. Oops. Pardon my French.
The symphony linked above -- HERE -- opens by a short fanfare of brass answered by quiet, sustained notes in the strings. A second, short fanfare is met again by short, sustained chords in the strings before an oboe begins a sprightly tune to move the piece forward.
The symphony I listened to on Spotify -- like the YouTube video HERE -- opens with a quiet pulse of strings as a clarinet then soars above them with a beautiful but mournful lament. Both works claim to be Symphony No. 2, Opus 27, by Alexander Grechaninov -- but they are definitely two completely different compositions. I listened to the Spotify version, and then I was utterly surprised when the YouTube version began playing. Does anyone know anything about this mystery? I was all set to put down my thoughts on the Spotify version of Grechaninov's Symphony No. 2, but now I'm not ever sure if I listened to the correct work, so here is what I'm going to do: Since tomorrow begins a new week, I'm going to postpone the work I had originally selected for next week, and I am going to listen to the YouTube version of Grechaninov's Symphony No. 2 to see how different it is from the Spotify version -- and then I'll post my comments and ratings on both next week. So far I've only compared the first four or five minutes of the first movements of the two versions, but they are definitely different works of art. I do not know, at this point, if that holds true for the second, third and fourth movements -- are they the same or are they different? I'm so confused. Again, if anyone knows anything about this mystery please let me know. In the meantime, I'll listen to the YouTube version, and then I'll discuss both symphonies next week. Stay tuned!
How did I land on Elliott Carter’s “Mosaic” this week? The choice is related in a way to an online movie group I facilitate called Asynchronous Movie Viewers.
“Plan 9” played for years in obscurity on late-night television until 1980 when movie critic Michael Medved called it “the worst film ever made.” At that point, a cult classic was born! That line about “the worst film even made” got me to thinking -- what is the worst piece of classical music? I typed “worst pieces of classical music ever written” into a Google search, and quite a number of articles popped up. The first one I perused was this one, HERE, where back in 2009, blogger Jeffrey Shallit wrote this: “I attended the Boston Symphony Orchestra on Saturday, and while much of it was enjoyable (for example, Beethoven’s 4th) and all of it professional, there was one piece that I would nominate for the worst piece of classical music ever written (I added the underline): Elliott Carter’s ‘Mosaic’ for harp and chamber ensemble. It was absolutely unlistenable. When a cell phone went off in the middle, I sighed with relief: at last, some tonality.” Of course, others on his site added comments about their nominations for “the worst,” but I thought I’d start with his choice, Carter’s “Mosaic.” Why not? I'm going to listen to the piece tonight and tomorrow, so I'll have my comments and rating posted soon. Stay tuned! Oh, and by the way, my Asynchronous Movie Viewers group has added one additional movie to view and discuss in our "Summer of Terror" -- "The Tingler" starring Vincent Price. That movie scared the crap out of me as a kid. I can't wait to see how it holds up when I watch it later this week!
I can’t tell you how impressed I was with Aghakhani’s direction. I suspect “Mosaic” is an extremely difficult piece to put together as the individuals learn their parts, and her ability to keep the group balanced and in sync throughout the performance was nothing short of incredible. So did I agree with Mr. Shallit? Do I think that Elliott Carter’s “Mosaic” is the worst piece of classical music ever written? A drum roll please… No. I don’t think that “Mosaic” deserves that “honor.” I can certainly agree that this work is not for everyone for similar reasons that contemporary artworks don’t appeal to many (most?) people. It is avant garde. It is dissonant and discordant. At times it is jarring and jangling and perhaps a bit grating on the ear. However, I found it to be an interesting tone poem that paints an aural dreamscape, one that unquestionably evokes uneasy feelings and reactions. Last week I suggested that my rating for Edward Elgar’s Cello Concerto might be higher on my scale were I to hear it in a live performance. I believe that this is true for this piece as well. I suspect if I attended a live performance, and a musicologist or student of composition were to explain more about this work’s score, about how Carter came to compose it, and/or what to listen for in the piece, I think my rating would rise. Early in the interview, Ms. Hobson PIlot says, “His music is such that I think that it grows on you. Upon first hearing I don’t think I was so infatuated with it, but the more I heard it and the more I played it, I began to understand it more and to like it more.” That was definitely true with me. The more I heard, the more I liked it -- or at least appreciated it. I wouldn’t say that this would be a “go to” piece to listen to when I want to hear classical music, but I would not mind hearing it in a live performance. So, what would I classify as the “worst piece ever written”? Well, earlier this year, I listened to and wrote about Jonathan Harvey’s String Quartet No. 4, HERE, and it was one of the few pieces which I've rated at the bottom of my scale -- so that piece would surely be a contender. However, at this time, I'd have to say Tchaikovsky’s “The Tempest” is the “worst piece ever written.” I’ll admit, I find Richard Strauss’ tone poem “Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks” very annoying and Anton Bruckner’s “Te Deum in C Major” to be incredibly dull, but I’ll stick with Tchaikovsky’s work for now as the ultimate “worst piece.”
By the way, if you read my comments above about my online movie group and William Castle’s horror flick “The Tingler,” I will say that the terror I experienced as a kid when I watched that movie was not matched at all with my recent viewing. In fact, the movie is slow, and at times quite laughable. As a matter of fact, “The Tingler” currently holds spot #90 on IMDB’s list of “100 Most Amusingly Bad Movies Ever Made,” HERE. By the way, Von Dexter is credited with the music for the film, and some of it sounded very reminiscent of Bernard Herrmann’s score for “Vertigo.” #justsaying |
A New Hope:As the header above says, each week I will listen to a piece of classical music that I've never heard before, and then I will report out what I thought about it. Archives
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