For the past few weeks, I’ve been working my way down a list of underrated – and unknown to me – composers from the Romantic era. This week I listened to a piano concerto by Viktor Konsenko.
After I typed “Viktor Konsenko” into the search line of YouTube, various pieces popped up. However, one of them, his piano concerto, had been uploaded with the caption “**MUST HEAR**.” Okay, I thought, if this is a “MUST HEAR,” then I must hear it – and I’m glad I did. Wow, what a piece! Think the Tchaikovsky concerto in B flat minor, the opening of the Grieg A minor concerto, the Warsaw Concerto, or the Brahms No. 1 in D minor. There is nothing more exciting than a pianist pounding out a piano line in an explosion of power and passion with a rousing orchestration behind it – and THAT is the Kosenko concerto in a nutshell. The concerto was composed in 1928, and it’s comprised of three movements:
I will note, though, that I saw some comments like, “I wonder how much of the 2nd and 3rd movements are really Kosenko?” and “lost parts of 2nd,3rd movement (were composed) during World War II (1939-1945), and “later completed in 1937” (Kosenko died of kidney cancer in October 1938) – so I’m not sure exactly what’s going on with that. Still, I enjoyed the full concerto, no matter when written and/or by whom. ; ) In the first movement, the orchestra opens with a crescendo that swells to a passionate pitch, and then the piano enters with a run of keys pounded out in octaves – and the race is on, so to speak. As I listened, I skimmed the comments under the linked video above, and I actually LOL’d when I read this because it captured exactly what I was thinking: “I just love the over the top do everything a piano can do romanticism of the 1st movement.” There were other comments under the video that also connected with me: “This supercharged potboiler surely provided many a concertgoer with an exhilarating and uplifting experience.” “The piano writing is simply stunning, such a shame it has fallen into neglect. I would demand a revival, but fear from opposition that Rachmaninov is superior. It probably is, but what the hell!!" “Echoes of Rachmaninoff” (specifically, his Concerto No. 2 in C minor, the same key as this concerto) – and “Heavily influenced, he produced this concerto but sadly failed to match up to Rachmaninov's mastery in orchestration” (which is spot on). At one point early in the week, when I first searched for the concerto on Spotify, I couldn’t find the complete work, so my first experience listening to Kosenko’s piece was with the 2nd movement only – and I loved what I was hearing. Not too long into it, though, I wondered why I was hearing piano only and no orchestra. It turned out I was listening to a piano transcription of the movement, but still, it was riveting. I loved the range and use of the entire keyboard with both the orchestra’s and piano’s parts. That was all I could find on Spotify. I would have loved to have heard the entire piece as transcribed for the piano, but I thoroughly enjoyed the piece with full orchestra on YouTube. @collectionCBR was right when he or she posted the video: Kosenko’s concerto is a “MUST HEAR.”
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I had such good luck in selecting Farrenc’s first symphony, that I thought perhaps I would have similar good fortune with Gretchaninov’s first symphony – and that was almost the case. I did enjoy the work, but just not as much as Farrenc’s.
Gretchaninov’s symphony is written in four movements:
The work was composed in 1894 while Getchaninov was under the tutelage of Rimsky-Korsakov‚ and the influence of his teacher‚ as well as Borodin and Tchaikovsky‚ are much in evidence throughout much of the work. Also, the premiere of the work was conducted by Rimsky-Korsakov, and music historians report that the conductor did not necessarily think highly of the work. On a site called “Interlude” (“created by lovers of music for those who share their passion”), I found this: “Although (Gretchaninov) took composition lessons from Sergey Taneyev and sat in the counterpoint class with Arensky, his initial attempts at composition were judged to be a waste of time! Only when he received a scholarship to study at the St. Petersburg Conservatory with Rimsky-Korsakov did his career blossom. A Concert Overture was well received, and his first String Quartet won a prize in the Belyayev Chamber Music Competition in 1894. However, the highlight of his early career was the performance of his First Symphony with Rimsky-Korsakov conducting the premiere in 1895. The work bears a dedication to his teacher, as ‘a token of deep respect and gratitude.’ Despite appearances to the contrary, Rimsky-Korsakov had a somewhat low opinion of the work. ‘It’s really not good! If someone who has a natural inclination to compose in the style of Rubinstein and writes fairly well in this style, suddenly takes a fancy to Borodin and begins to compose in his style, it won’t work.’ Despite his teacher’s reservations, the music shows competence in structure and orchestration, and the pleasant use of Russian thematic materials.” Do Rimsky-Korsakov’s doubts about the symphony hold any water? Maybe. But as a whole, the work does contain memorable music characterized by passion and drama with a Russian flair.
Don't get me wrong. It was a pleasant enough piece, but it just didn't do anything for me. It was nothing interesting, intriguing, or memorable.
I had the opposite reaction this week. It wasn't long after the start of Louise Farrenc's C minor symphony that I thought to myself, "Hmm...this is interesting" -- and my interest held and even heightened as the piece played on. The symphony is written in four movements: 1. Andante Sostenuto -- Allegro 2. Adagio Cantabile 3. Minuetto Moderato 4. Allegro Assai The first movement opens with quiet, pulsing chords in the strings, and then a solo clarinet introduces a warm and supple line that is later shared with other woodwinds. Soon, though, the allegro section propels the movement forward, and one review I read compared the work to something by Schumann and "to me, prefigures some of the lyricism and drama of Tchaikovsky." I thought of another composer though -- the lyrical and fiery movement reminded me of the overture Felix Mendelssohn wrote for Victor Hugo's play "Ruy Blas." The pastoral second movement is much more serene than the taut opening movement. The third movement -- marked "Minuetto Moderato -- is nothing dainty as one might expect from a minuet. Instead, it is much more determined and deliberate. The final movement returns to the more urgent tempo from the symphony's opening. One review I read stated nicely, "This is a perfectly iconic Romantic era sound, and ends with sufficient magnitude." Farrenc's symphony hooked me from the start and held my interest though the entire piece. I loved it.
Well, it's been two weeks, not one, and I'm late with my comments and rating for Cecile Chaminade's Concertino for Flute. On the one hand, I have no excuse because on the date I posted this as my choice for the "week of 3/12," I listened to the piece several times. If only I had published my comments and rating then. **sigh** On the other hand, when I didn't post my comments on 3/12, I later got totally consumed with a job I've taken on to help a local middle school (I'm working as a long-term substitute teacher in an English 8 classroom) -- and I"m deeply involved with my students in a project that culminates this Wednesday (we're sponsoring a "Small Talk Gallery," a display of small poems {Haikus and other short poems} and mini-artworks {1.5 x 2 inch} inspired by artists such as Pollock, Rothko, Basquiat and others). I'll post pictures of the gallery and the event we're hosting later this week or next week.
That was back on Sunday, March 12 -- and on that morning when I selected the piece, I listened to it almost immediately as I was grading some papers.
Before I knew, I'd graded a few papers -- and the piece concluded. "Hmm," I thought. "I'd better listen to that again because I really didn't focus on it." I played it again, I graded a few more papers, and in a matter of about 12 minutes, the song concluded again. "Hmm," I thought. "Maybe I should listen again?" I listened to the work a third time. Meh. It just didn't do anything for me. Don't get me wrong. It was a pleasant piece, and the woman in the video played it beautifully, but it was just -- banal. Like a dish in a bland diet -- like canned fruit. Sweet. Soft. Nothing spicy. And low in the "fiber" of what makes memorable music. Info on the piece -- if you're interested -- is HERE.
“Carillon Mystique” is a serene and haunting piece, and it is gentle in both tempo and tone – and though it is a calm and languid piece, it is quite complex.
At the start, there is a series of quarter notes which carries the melody, and the notes are woven into a string of eighth notes so that the pianist must apply added pressure to melodic line while using less pressure on the eighth notes. Then grace notes are introduced – which, like the eighth notes – require a lighter touch. Then quarter notes are layered above and below, more grace notes are interposed, triplets appear and lead to sixteenth notes, and trills and various runs flow in – all while the steadfast melody necessitates steady and skillful attention so as not to get lost in the ebb and flow of notes and embellishments. White researching the composer and the piece, one site I visited reviewed the piece as follows: “In this expressive piece, Bonis evokes both the resonant chiming of individual bells as well as the tinkling cascades of the carillon. The pedal is used to create bell-like sonorities and also adds to the spiritual character of the piece, as implied by ‘Mystique’ in the title.” It is a lovely piece.
OOPS! I'm late with this! Turns out I had to travel last week, and as a result, I'm behind with a few things -- including my review and rating for this piece. Fret not, dear reader! I shall get caught up with things by the end of the week! ; ) ONE WEEK LATER:
Well, as you can see from that brief statement above, I’ve been quite busy lately. My wife and i traveled to New York City; our daughter from Chicago visited us for a short while; I accepted a job as a long-term substitute Language Arts teacher for a middle school where a teacher quit; and as the King of Siam in the “King and I” would say, “Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” As a result, I'm behind in various activities – including critical ones like housework, grocery shopping, and laundry and frivolous ones like blog posts about classical music – but surely though slowly, I’m getting to a point where I’ll be somewhat “caught up.” (Is one ever truly “caught up”?) My recent posts on this site have centered on pieces written by underrated – and in my case, unfamiliar – composers. However, I have heard of Jan Paderewski, for as a piano student in my youth, I played his very-well-known Minuet. That’s the only work I know of his, though. To me, he could certainly be classified as a “one-hit wonder.” However, he has a catalog of more than three dozen pieces online, HERE, and I selected his Nocturne in B Flat. A nocturne is basically a short, gentle piece for piano that is evocative of the night. Chopin wrote close to two dozen nocturnes, and his Nocturne No. 2 in E Flat is perhaps his most memorable. I’m sure you’ve heard it (HERE). That’s probably not the case with the piece by Paderewski. My guess is that it’s more than likely you have not heard it. It’s a serene, lovely piece – though it’s just not as memorable as Chopin’s work in E Flat. I was researching the piece to find out when it was written, and I discovered that his Opus 16 is a series of seven piano pieces referred to as “Miscellanea” composed between 1886 and 1896 (info HERE). I also found this apt description of the piece from the USC Polish Music Center: “(Paderewski’s nocturne) rests upon a rhythmical figure consisting of two sixteenth notes and an eighth, which is repeated twice in every measure in the composition save when, as an accompaniment of the second subject (which appears in the tenor voice) it is modified temporarily into a sixteenth rest, sixteenth note and eighth. A tender song rises, like incense, from this figure at the outset and twice is answered with two notes from above, which, like the strain with which Duke Orsino fed his love, have a ‘dying fall.’ This fall is characteristic too of the sustained melody which anon soars up above the accompaniment figure with its persistent, yet tender beat.” It is a lovely piece – though just not as memorable as the No. 2 by Chopin nor his own enduring Minuet.
For this week, of course, I listened to the sole piano concerto by von Henselt (or does one just say "Henselt?) -- and I gotta say right up front, the work is full of sound and fury. I don't mean to imply that the concerto "signifies nothing," for it is quite a work with a great deal of virtuosic fireworks for the pianist, but it is no overstatement to say that this work is full of sound and fury. The full orchestra opens the first movement with three decisive and dramatic chords, as if you're entering at the climax of some film noir drama -- like coming into "Double Indemnity" just when Walter Neff is confronting Phyllis Dietrichson at her home near the end of the movie. Almost two and a half minutes into the piece, the piano enters with the same overly-dramatic chords, and the piece takes off. The piece was written in the mid-1840s and was premiered by Clara Schumann herself in 1844, but not published until 1847. The work is in three movements: 1. Allegro patetico – Religioso – Reprise 2. Larghetto 3. Allegro agitato When researching this piece, I found an interesting site with the clever name "Fugue for Thought." That blogger's comments on the concerto are HERE. The blogger notes that the piece is "hard, and uncomfortable, and challenging, and even to the ear, sounds incredibly virtuosic, to say nothing of the …. ergonomics or execution." True, one cannot accuse Henselt of being austere or spartan when it comes to composition. No minimalist, he. If there are four beats to a measure, put in not four notes or eight, but sixteen or thirty-two. Then spice it up with grace notes and trills, mordents, turns and other embellishments. If there's space in the measure, then blacken it with notes and more notes. The blog I cited above mentions that the "first movement is really everything… everything you could want in a piano concerto. There is roar and fire from the piano, but also breathtaking Romantic melodiousness and expression" -- but oddly enough, in the final six bars (and ten seconds) of the first movement, Henselt returns to the opening chords but shifts from F Minor to F Major. It's an abrupt but resounding deep breath of optimism in a final "TA DAH!" It's a bit bewildering.
The second movement is lush and somewhat reminiscent of works by Rachmaninoff -- just not as enduring (hence his place on the list of "underrated composers"?). The pyrotechnics return in the third movement as the pianist races the orchestra to the end. It's all very dramatic, but perhaps a bit "too." I'm sure it's a fun piece to play, though. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed Henselt's work. I just wouldn't include the piece were I to compile a list of favorite piano concertos.
I haven't heard of six of the other names shown in the pic. I have heard of Paderewski because I play the piano, and in my years as a piano student I played his famous minuet many times -- HERE -- but that's the only piece I know by him. I've now listened to Arensky's String Quartet a few times; however, before I get to my comments on the work, let me pass on two bits of information. First, in more proof that the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon (aka the "Recency Illusion") is alive and well, I tuned into WQXR on my computer at one point this week, and lo and behold, the station was playing Anton Arensky's Symphony No. 2. I wasn't all that surprised -- since I'm a firm believer in the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon -- but it made me wonder how many times I've heard his works in the past, and I just wasn't aware of it.
The first movement is a somber piece – it was, afterall, written in response to the death of Tchaikovsky – and it effectively combines both mournful passages and sections characterized by energy in response to the loss & memories of such a giant.
The second movement is based on the theme of the Legend (No.5) of Tchaikovsky's 16 Songs for Children, Op.54, and it was later arranged by Arensky for string orchestra as Variations on a Theme of Tchaikovsky, Op.35a. It is all very Tchaikovsky-esque; at some point, I even heard hints of Tchaikovsky’s Andante Cantabile. Concerning the finale, I found this information on the LA Philharmonic’s site: the movement “opens with further references to Russian psalmody and then quotes the famous folk melody that appears as the Russian theme in the Trio of Beethoven’s Second ‘Razumovsky’ String Quartet (Op. 59, No. 2) and in the Coronation Scene of Mussorgsky’s opera Boris Godunov. That generates a lively fugato section, which dashes to a quick, brilliant close. It has been suggested that Arensky invoked Mussorgsky’s Coronation Scene to imply crowning Tchaikovsky as the emperor of all music.” I enjoyed the Quartet very much, though I’d say it hovered more often in my “like” zone than my “love” zone. Emily Dickinson once wrote, “If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?” For me, here’s the test: I play the work I’ve selected several times throughout the week, and I usually listen while I’m completing various tasks for work or home. At any time, if the music literally makes me stop what I’m doing to focus entirely on what I am hearing – as did the final movement of Glass’ Violin Concerto, for example, or the third movement of Beethoven’s Triple Concerto – then there’s a great probability that I’m going to rate the piece at the top of my scale. In cases like the works I mentioned by Glass and Beethoven, it’s as if - like Dickinson said – “the top of my head were taken off.” That did not happen with the Arensky work. My head was intact throughout. I did enjoy it, though – very much.
Yikes, I've been busy! I came of retirement to help a school as a long-term sub in a middle school English class (one teacher left on medical leave, and I am filling in until the new teacher starts), plus my wife and I travelled over the weekend. Sooo....needless to say, I'm behind with things! LOL. I did listen to the Prokofiev work once last week, but I plan to listen to it a couple more times, and then I'll post my comments and rating later this week! Sorry for the delay. Stay tuned! As you know from the note above, I’ve been a bit busy! I started this site a little over two years ago when I retired (I’d been a middle school principal) but last winter I started helping local schools by becoming a substitute teacher.
This past January, I agreed to help out a friend who is the principal at a local middle school, and I took on a temporary position as a long-term substitute in a middle school English/Language Arts classroom. As a result, I fell behind with various sideline interests – including this site – but I’m finally getting caught up! I’ve now listened to the Prokofiev concerto several times, and I did very much enjoy it – though I’ll admit, when it comes to piano concertos for the left hand, I do prefer the one by Ravel (more on that below). I’d always heard of the Ravel concerto, but never listened to it until just a couple of weeks ago. I posted my comments and rating HERE. Shortly after that, I heard a snippet of a Prokofiev piano concerto on my car radio, and I liked what I heard – so I decided to listen to a Prokofiev work that week, but I wasn’t sure which concerto it was I’d heard. I searched “Prokofiev piano concerto” on YouTube and discovered that there were five of them, and decided on the 4th at this point because it too – like the Ravel – was for the left hand. LOL – I had no idea there were other concertos for the left hand beyond the Ravel work. Ravel’s was the only one I’d heard of. Concerning Prokofiev’s series of piano concertos, I found this: “Prokofiev’s five piano concertos were composed between 1911 and 1932. As a Russian expatriate and “novelty act” for most of that period, he was automatically placed in competition with two countrymen, Stravinsky the scandalous provocateur and Rachmaninoff the late-great-Romantic piano wizard. Sergei P. struggled to balance virtuoso display with authentic personal expression, while facing a constant demand—from critics, from audiences, from his own notion of genius—for something genuinely new.” The complete article is HERE. Also, from an article on the fourth concerto on Wikipedia, I found this: “Sergei Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No. 4 in B-flat major for the left hand, Op. 53, was commissioned by the one-armed pianist Paul Wittgenstein and completed in 1931. It was the only one of Prokofiev's complete piano concertos that never saw a performance during his lifetime.” The concerto is comprised of four movements:
The piano takes off right at the start of this concerto, and the tone is somewhat happy-go-lucky if not mischievous, like the pianist might have something up his sleeve. Later the movement becomes a bit frolicsome, though two minutes into the work, some rather serious tension builds up and down the keyboard – both figuratively and literally. Some of the latter part of the movement is reminiscent of the second half of Raymond Scott’s work “Power House” (former Saturday morning cartoon watchers of a certain age know this as the “assembly line music” from Bugs Bunny cartoons). In complete contrast to the opening movement, the second movement is quite somber – almost elegiac. It is tender at times, but more passionate – almost angry – at others. The serious tone continues in the third movement, set with some moderately dissonant chords in the brass and strings. The piano then enters with a haunting theme in its very low bass range. Soon the energy picks up – almost march like with a pizzicato pulse in the strings – and the tone becomes somewhat menacing, to the point that the work would make a good soundtrack for a classic film noir movie. The tempo changes here and there, and though the intimidatory tone continues throughout much of the movement, there are hints of the frolicsome first movement. The piece concludes with a short vivace movement which definitely evokes the antics of the sprightly first movement. I did enjoy this concerto, but of the two works for the left hand – the Prokofiev and the Ravel – I definitely prefer the one by Ravel. The main difference between the two is that this one, by Prokofiev, sounds like a work for one hand, while the Ravel piece is astounding in its sound like a work for two hands. The Prokofiev, though, is worth a listen!
I’ve been listening to new pieces (i.e., new to me) for two years now, and I don’t think I’ve listened to a work for guitar yet. I could be wrong, and maybe I just don’t remember, but I believe this is the first work for guitar I’ve listened to on this site.
I selected the Concerto for Guitar and Small Orchestra by Heitor Villa-Lobos at random, a piece written for the Spanish guitarist Andrés Segovia, to whom the score is dedicated. I found this information on Wikipedia: “Initially in three movements and titled Fantasia concertante, Villa-Lobos later added a cadenza at Segovia's request, and changed the title to Concerto for Guitar and Small Orchestra. According to another version of the story, the situation was quite the reverse: Segovia commissioned the work with the stipulation that there should be no cadenza and the work be titled Fantasia concertante. Villa-Lobos, however, ignored these demands, supplying an extended cadenza and insisting the work be called a concerto.” (The complete article is HERE). No matter the case, Andrés Segovia first performed the concerto in February 1956 in Houston, Texas, with the Houston Symphony Orchestra, conducted by the composer. Wikipedia lists four movements for the piece as follows:
However, when I first listened to the concerto, I did so on Spotify, and the album I found with the work performed by Narciso Yepes and the London Symphony Orchestra listed just three movements:
The Wikipedia article states this: “The cadenza is in four unmetered sections with different tempo markings (Quasi allegro – Andante – Quasi allegro – Poco moderato), and is so substantial in length that it functions as a separate movement.” (I added the underline.) Sooo…later I went back to the video I linked above on Youtube – with the concerto performed by Julian Bream and the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by André Previn – to listen to the “third movement,” i.e., the cadenza. The concerto is certainly pleasant and makes absolutely wonderful background music – so having said that, I suspect you can guess my rating gravitated to the lower end of my scale. Yes, the concerto is okay – but it’s not in the same league (at least to me) as some of the “greats,” like the concertos in C Major and D Major by Vivaldi, the Concierto de Aranjuez by Joaquin Rodrigo, and others. Mysterious chords a la a Bernard Herrmann score for an Alfred Hitchcock thriller open the first movement. Even the guitar line close to a minute-and-a-half in reminded me a bit of the soundtrack for “Vertigo.” Later the movement slows down, and it sounds more folksy and melancholic. The second movement continues the melancholy mood, and this movement has perhaps the most memorable melody line in the piece – though again, it doesn’t quite reach the level of greatness of the other concertos mentioned above. It does come close. The third movement (not the cadenza – so the fourth movement in the video linked above) opens at a faster pace and ties in elements from the earlier movements (as does the cadenza when I listened to that), but nothing about the movement is particularly memorable. Overall, the concerto is charming and pleasant to listen to – and the opening theme to the second movement does approach the greatness of other guitar concertos – but it’s just not enough to carry this entire piece for me. |
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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