Posted on by tjphilbrick

Is that really Prokofiev?

Hello all,

Our music for today is the Symphony No. 1 by Prokofiev, known by most musicians as his “Classical” Symphony.

As you can tell by the number of the symphony, this was Prokofiev’s first foray into the world of symphonic music. Unlike what one might expect from Prokofiev given his largely avant-garde tendencies, this symphony is a homage to the great composers of the classical period (Handel, Haydn, Mozart, etc.). The most obvious giveaway is the very classical-sounding melodies that the symphony exhibits. However, Prokofiev took additional pains to make sure this symphony reflected the classical period. For instance, he included a Gavotte as one of the movements, which was a musical style that had long been forgotten about once the 1920’s rolled around. The symphony is written in the typical Classical-era fashion, with a slow movement anchoring in the middle point of the symphony. Furthermore, the symphony is written for a surprisingly small orchestra, which is yet another reflection of a Haydn-era performance.

Despite these Classical pretensions, Prokofiev couldn’t resist incorporating a few of his own touches into the symphony. You’ll occasionally hear some dissonance that reminds you of the music that we usually associate with Prokofiev, and I like to think of those moments as his reminder to the listener to keep in mind that he is still Prokofiev 🙂

Enjoy!

Posted on by tjphilbrick

Brahms – Sextet in B-flat major

Hello all,

Our music for this week is the Sextet in B-flat major by Johannes Brahms.

There are very few string sextets in existence. Schubert and Bocherinni are two of the composers who have written sextets, but Brahms’ B-flat sextet is considered the leading work in this relatively niche field. Many musicians consider this to be rather ironic since, as a pianist, Brahms struggled tremendously when writing for stringed instruments. His genius at the keyboard somehow didn’t entirely translate over to his compositions for strings despite his close friendship with the legendary violinist Joseph Joachim. Nonetheless, he wanted to compose a string sextet in honor of his dear friend Robert Schumann and, in particular, he wanted to explore the strengths of the deeper stringed instruments – the viola and the cello. It is therefore no surprise that the opening melody of the piece is played by the cello and the opening melody of the second movement’s variations scheme is introduced by the viola.

The sextet has four movements: Allegro, Andante, Scherzo, and Rondo. Listen for themes that get repeated throughout the work. For instance, you’ll hear the main melody of the first movement being recycled in the fourth movement at different points. You might also listen for the portions of this theme that Brahms sprinkles throughout all four movements. You will never hear the theme in its entirety, but you may – if you listen closely – have a deja vu moment once in a while.

Enjoy!

 

Posted on by tjphilbrick

A Virtuoso

Our music for this week is “Nel cor pui non mi sento” form Giovanni Paisello’s opera “La Molinara,” or “The Miller-Woman.” However, instead of being performed in an operatic format, we’ll be hearing it playing in a transcription for solo violin by the Russian legend Leonid Kogan.

There isn’t much to say about the music. It simply takes the primary themes of the opera and piles them high with tricks for the violinist to utilize in his or her attempt to dazzle the audience. Sarasate, the great 19th-century Spaniard who supposedly mastered all of Paganini’s caprices by the age of 12, did this quite often. For instance, he took all of the famous themes from the most famous opera of his time (Carmen), transcribed them for violin, then stuffed it to the gills with nearly impossible tricks for the violinist to (hopefully) master.

Leonid Kogan, however, deserves significant mention. He was born into a poor Ukranian family who recognized his enormous musical potential and moved to Moscow in order for him to study with the famous pedagogy Abram Yampolsky. After playing for the French virtuoso Jacques Thibaud, Kogan broke onto the world scene when he won the Queen Elizabeth Competition in Brussels. However, Kogan’s success was sadly short-lived. The Soviet government had already found its favorite musician in the legendary violinist David Oistrakh, and it endlessly promoted and favored his (admittedly tremendous) talents. This led to an over-shadowing of Kogan’s entire career; his musical gifts were never recognized by his own country. For instance, he was never able to own a Stradavarious violin as he so desperately wanted to. Instead, he had no choice but to use the Guarneri violins that the Soviet government loaned him. Despite these difficulties, he was awarded some of the highest musical honors in the world throughout his lifetime and performed up until the day he died. (This is, believe it or not, not a joke – he performed the Beethoven concerto in Vienna at 7pm on December 17, 1982 and passed away in his sleep later that night).

Enjoy!

 

Posted on by tjphilbrick

Ravel’s inspiration

Hello all,

I mentioned in last week’s email that Claude Debussy was one of the primary influences on Ravel’s musical development. Debussy’s place in French Impressionist music can hardly be overstated. In many ways, Debussy created the foundation for Ravel’s success. I thought it might therefore be good for us to listen to some Debussy in order to better understand Ravel’s music.

This composition is titled “La Cathedrale Engloutie,” meaning “The Sunken Cathedral.” It is a perfect example of what Debussy referred to as Musical Impressionism. In many ways, Debussy can be viewed as the Eduard Manet of music. He, like Manet, laid the framework for the Impressionist movement that was later developed by a new generation of artists. Manet’s hard work in promoting Impressionist art was central to the success of later artists like Delacroix and Monet; similarly, Debussy’s development of the harmonic framework for Impressionist music paved the way for composers like Ravel. In short, musical impressionism uses music to create a allusion to or rough depiction of an idea or story. Debussy simply named each piece after the idea or object it was meant to represent and then left it to the listener to discover how it did so.

La Cathédrale Engloutie is based on an ancient Breton myth about a cathedral that is submerged underwater near a mythical island called Ys. On calm, clear mornings, the cathedral supposedly rises up out of the ocean’s still waters. When it does so, the sounds of bells ringing, priests chanting, and organs playing can be heard across the sea. Debussy uses the variety of techniques available on the piano to represent each of these sounds. For instance, the opening of the piece is written in a circling, wave-like pattern, which symbolizes the waves of the ocean lapping at the base of the cathedral as it rises out of the water. The opening of the work is mysterious and dense, in keeping with Debussy’s written instructions to imitate the effects of fog. Once the cathedral has emerged, the pianist thunders across the keyboard with full power and pedaling in an imitation of the grandeur and majesty of the organ. As the cathedral sinks back into the sea, the organ-esque melodies can still be heard but at a softer dynamic, representing the underwater element at play in the piece. Throughout the piece – and especially at the end – Debussy includes moments in which the pianist instantly releases a pedaled note, creating the impression of a ringing bell. These bell sounds are what the piece ends with, albeit in a muted fashion reminiscent of their underwater residence

Enjoy!