We are all probably familiar with Antonio Vivaldi’s famous Four Seasons, but I’d be willing to bet that you haven’t heard of this Seasons composition. It was written for the Russian Imperial Ballet troupe in 1900 by the Russian composer Alexander Glazunov. However, unlike most ballets, Glazunov’s Seasons does not contain a singular storyline. Instead, it contains four distinct sections (perhaps a nod to Vivaldi?) that are named after the four seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn.
First, you’ll hear the Winter movement. Listen for the frantic way that Glazunov portrays ice, snow, and hail with the clarinets and strings. The falling snow is depicted as an almost Strauss-ian waltz.
Second, you’ll hear the Spring movement. In the ballet, this movement is introduced by two gnomes who light a warm fire amidst the snow and frost. The harp depicts the arrival of flowers and songbirds.
Third,
you’ll hear the Summer movement. The clarinet
returns with the “Dance of the Corn,” representing the growing of crops in the summer
heat. Listen for the strings’ representation of a bubbling brook, which
provides relief for the summer flowers.
Fourth,
you’ll hear the Autumn movement. The dancers
focus here on the harvesting of crops and the making of wine. Listen for the wild
dance to Bacchus, the historical god of wine. The movement ends with the arrival
of a warm autumn night and the emergence of stars in the sky.
Enjoy!
T
P.S. I couldn’t find a suitable video of a live performance, but I think the video above is actually quite helpful because it notates the changing of the seasons with text and images.
We are completing our series on the life and music of Leonard Bernstein with one of his most under-appreciated compositions, the Symphony #2. This symphony is known as the “Age of Anxiety” symphony. The video you will see was made in 1986. The composer himself conducts the London Symphony Orchestra with Krystian Zimmerman on the piano. In the introductory interview, Bernstein says, “At least one of the characters [in the story of the piece] does find the core of faith, which is what . . . I am after in every work I ever write.”
The symphony was modeled
after W. H. Auden’s poem “The Age of Anxiety.” After reading it, Bernstein
wrote the following:
W.H. Auden’s fascinating and hair-raising poem The Age of Anxiety: A Baroque Eclogue began
immediately to affect me lyrically when I first read it in the summer of 1947.
From that moment the composition of a symphony based on The Age of Anxiety acquired
an almost compulsive quality . . . . The essential line of the poem (and of the
music) is the record of our difficult and problematical search for faith. In
the end, two of the characters enunciate the recognition of this faith—even a
passive submission to it—at the same time revealing an inability to relate to
it personally in their daily lives, except through blind acceptance.
The
symphony proceeds in two parts, each of which contain three sub-parts. This
echoes the six sections in Auden’s poem. Part 1 includes the following:
Prologue – four lonely people sit alone in a bar, trying to drink themselves away from their problems. Listen for the clarinets here, who use a long descending scale to give an impression of despair and loneliness.
Seven Ages – this movement is a set of variations that look at a man’s lifespan from four different points of view. As you listen, try to figure out how the variations are related. Bernstein intentionally made each one an addition to the previous ones.
Seven Stages – This variation follows the struggle of the man’s attempted journey from pain and insecurity to comfort and security. The four characters in the Prologue dream of this journey together, and when they awake, they are closely united through this shared dream.
Part II
contains the following three parts:
Dirge – the four people sing this
mournful song as they take a cab through the city. They mourn the loss of the “colossal Dad,” a figure who has all
the answers and can resolve all of their problems.
Masque – the four people struggle
to find energy to enjoy their evening and eventually disperse. Listen for the sudden
outburst of hectic jazz music in this movement, symbolizing the inability of today’s
weary people to fully enjoy life.
Epilogue – all that is left is
faith. The trumpet solo carries this theme to the end with purity and radiance.
Bernstein wanted to highlight the emptiness and anxiety that were left in the wake of WWII despite all the technological progress of his time. I believe his critique is doubly relevant today. We are more powerful and connected than ever, yet we are also more lonely and unfulfilled than ever. We work our lives away, sucked into screens and devices that alienate and control us, caught in the business of getting here and there. Just as Auden’s poem highlighted the emptiness and the search for faith that darkened the world after WWII, Bernstein’s “Age of Anxiety” Symphony reminds us of the emptiness that can burden even the most powerful society in history.
As we continue our series on the music of Leonard Bernstein, our music for this week is the Chichester Psalms by Leonard Bernstein. The composer conducts the Boys and Men’s Choir of the Poznan Philharmonic.
Chichester Psalms was written in 1965 for boy soprano, solo quartet, choir, and orchestra. It is essentially a musical setting of Psalms 2, 23, 100, 108, 131, and 133 that was commissioned by the Revered Walter Hussey of the Chichester Cathedral in Sussex, England.
As with
many of his other compsitions, Bernstein wrote extensively about his motivation
for composing the Psalms.
“For hours on end I brooded and mused
On materiae musicae, used and abused;
On aspects of unconventionality,
Over the death in our time of tonality…
Pieces for nattering, clucking sopranos
With squadrons of vibraphones, fleets of pianos
Played with the forearms, the fists and the palms —
And then I came up with the Chichester Psalms.
… My youngest child, old-fashioned and sweet.
And he stands on his own two tonal feet.”
Unlike
most of Bernstein’s compositions during this time period, the Psalms are not atonal. In his own words,
the piece is “the
most accessible, B-flat majorish tonal piece I’ve ever written.” Bernstein was also
adamant that the Psalms be sung in
the original Hebrew and with the rhythmic style of the Hebrew musical
tradition. Some have observed that by writing a Christian mass for a Christian
church in the Hebrew language and Hebrew style, Bernstein was implicitly advocating
for a peaceful reconciliation between the two faiths.
Here’s a quick rundown of
things to listen for:
First movement: This movement is based on
Psalm 108 and opens with a victorious “Awake, psaltery and harp!” Interestingly,
this movement is 7/4 meter, which, if you are a musician, you will know is an
almost unheard-of meter.
Second movement: listen for the boy soprano
solo that is based on Psalm 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd”) and is accompanied
by the harp (perhaps symbolic of the shepherd-psalmist King David?) Later in
the movement, you’ll hear a quick snippet of a West Side Story melody that Bernstein threw in just for fun.
Third movement: notice how Bernstein ends the
piece with less and less orchestral involvement, eventually giving way to a subdued
chorus without instrumentation.
We spent the first few weeks of our series on the music of Leonard Bernstein exploring his more popular and public compositions, such as West Side Story and the educational performances he gave to children around the world. For the remaining weeks of the series, we are going to take a look at some of his more obscure compositions, starting with the Serenade, after Plato’s Symposium for solo violin, strings, harp, and percussion. The violinist in the video is Vadim Gluzman.
Plato wrote Symposium as a dialogue between several speakers on the topic of love. It was originally a play that contained five parts, and Bernstein named the movements of the Serenade after those parts: Pausanias, Aristophanes, Eryximachus, Agathon, & Alcibiades. Accordingly, the music introduces a new voice or viewpoint in each movement. You will notice that Bernstein recycles certain themes in each of the movements, building upon his earlier work to create a comprehensive whole. Listen for the repeated re-emergence of the opening solo violin theme throughout the latter movements.
Bernstein must have known that we would be learning about his music via these Music Emails because he wrote a description of each movement for his listeners.
“Pausanias (Lento; Allegro marcato). Phaedrus opens the symposium with a lyrical oration in praise of Eros, the god of love. (Fugato, begun by the solo violin.) Pausanias continues by describing the duality of the lover as compared with the beloved. This is expressed in a classical sonata-allegro, based on the material of the opening fugato. II. Aristophanes (Allegretto). Aristophanes does not play the role of clown in this dialogue, but instead that of the bedtime-storyteller, invoking the fairy-tale mythology of love. The atmosphere is one of quiet charm. [Aristophanes sees love as satisfying a basic human need. Much of the musical material derives from the grace-note theme of the first movement. The middle section of this movement incorporates a melody for the lower strings (marked “singing”) played in close canon.] III. Eryximachus (Presto). The physician speaks of bodily harmony as a scientific model for the workings of love-patterns. This is an extremely short fugato-scherzo, born of a blend of mystery and humor. [This section contains music that corresponds thematically to the canon of the previous movement, Aristophanes] IV. Agathon (Adagio). Perhaps the most moving speech of the dialogue, Agathon’s panegyric embraces all aspects of love’s powers, charms and functions. This movement is a simple three-part song. V. Alcibiades (Molto tenuto; Allegro molto vivace). Socrates describes his visit to the seer Diotima, quoting her speech on the demonology of love. Love as a daemon is Socrates’ image for the profundity of love; and his seniority adds to the feeling of didactic soberness in an otherwise pleasant and convivial after-dinner discussion. This is a slow introduction of greater weight than any of the preceding movements, and serves as a highly developed reprise of the middle section of the Agathon movement, thus suggesting a hidden sonata-form. The famous interruption by Alcibiades and his band of drunken revelers ushers in the Allegro, which is an extended rondo ranging in spirit from agitation through jig-like dance music to joyful celebration. If there is a hint of jazz in the celebration, I hope it will not be taken as anachronistic Greek party-music, but rather the natural expression of a contemporary American composer imbued with the spirit of that timeless dinner party. [Speaking through the voice of Diotima, Socrates proposes the notion that the most virtuous form of love is the love for wisdom (philosophy).]”
“Stories are not what music means. Music is never about things. Music just is. It’s a lot of beautiful notes and sounds put together so well that we get pleasure out of hearing them. So when we ask, ‘What does it mean; what does this piece of music mean?’ we’re asking a hard question. Let’s do our best to answer it.”
Leonard Bernstein, 1958
While Leonard Bernstein’s legacy was cemented by West Side Story and his other great compositions, his influence extended far beyond Broadway. In many ways, he inspired and educated a generation of youth through his Young People’s Concerts. He performed these concerts all around the country and on television to thousands of young people, inspiring them to learn more about the greatest music in the world.
The video you will watch today was originally aired on
January 18, 1958. It was titled “What Does Music Mean?” Bernstein uses the
various instruments of the orchestra to show the audience what makes the music
of William Tell Overture and other
famous pieces so special. I find it informative and am sure that, despite its
orientation for children, it will be beneficial to you as well. Bernstein is a
talented teacher and a gifted communicator, and his excitement about music is
contagious.
Today we will be listening to the Symphonic Dances from West Side Story by Leonard Bernstein, who
conducts the NY Philharmonic in a 1976 live performance of his own composition.
West Side Story is arguably the most notable landmark in all of American theater. It took Broadway by storm in 1957, then conquered the silver screen with ease. West Side Story fused the American musical tradition in all of its variety with European theater forms and a Shakespearean love-story theme. It was original, relatable, and lovable.
In 1960, Bernstein decided to capitalize on the popularity
of West Side Story and wrote the Symphonic Dances from West Side Story.
As conductor of world-famous NY Philharmonic Orchestra, Bernstein was in the perfect
position to further publicize his famous musical.
The set of dances is essentially a condensed version of the full musical. The Prologue describes the rivalry between the Jet gang and the Shark gang. It is followed by Somewhere, which describes a dream in which the two gangs develop a friendship. Third is a Scherzo in which the dream continues and takes the gangs out of the city and into a sunlit field. The Mambo showcases the dancing competition between the gangs. Cha-cha is when Tony and Maria – the Romeo and Juliet of the story – see each other for the first time. In Meeting Scene, the lovers speak their first words to one another. The Cool Fugue is an elaborate dance sequence in which the Jets show off their moves. In Rumble, the two gang leaders are killed. The work finishes with a Finale love song sung by Maria.
Welcome a new series on the music of the great American composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein! We’ll explore his greatest hits, his movie scores, his Broadway songs, and some of his more obscure works that (I believe) deserve more attention than they get.
Leonard Bernstein is one of the most important figures in American music. He was a composer, conductor, educator, and humanitarian. After training with the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s legendary conductor Serge Koussevitsky, Bernstein embarked on an incredible career at the helm of the world-renowned New York Philharmonic.
While Bernstein is probably most famous for his score to West Side Story, he wrote many other compositions that were just as spectacular. One of these is the 1949 film On the Town (adapted from the 1944 Broadway play by the same name), which starred Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, and Jules Munshin on a 24-hour exploration of New York City. The lyrics tell us that New York is “a wonderful town” and “if you can make it there you can make it anywhere.” While the lyrics and the upbeat tune are the deserving focus, the music itself is not as basic as it may seem. Bernstein actually composed the entire film score for On the Town based on a single theme. In other words, every song is a variation on the same set of tonalities. Even within this tune, Bernstein creates a variation on the opening theme by adding sixteenth (faster) notes to the last iteration of the theme.
Our
music for this week is Appalachian Spring
by Aaron Copland. This is arguably the most well-known and widely-loved piece
of music ever written by an American composer.
Two
years after the premier of his amazingly popular Rodeo, Appalachian Spring was
written in 1944 as a ballet titled “Ballet for Martha.” Dancer Martha Graham
had been commissioned to choreograph the ballet, and Copland wasn’t sure what
he was going to call it. A year later, after the ballet was met with widespread
success (including winning a Pulitzer Prize for the musical score), Copland
created the orchestral suite that you will hear.
Appalachian Spring evokes images of rolling Blue Ridge
mountains, open prairie-lands, soaring northern peaks, and youthful exploration.
It captures much of the adventurousness inherent in the American ideal. Ironically,
Copland wasn’t even thinking about the Appalachians when he wrote the piece. As
he said, “I gave voice to that region without knowing I was giving voice to
it.”
While
all of the melodies in Appalachian Spring
are memorable and evocative, the highlight is the unmistakable “Simple Gifts”
theme that begins at 23:27. Based on the Shaker hymn by the same name, this
melody was Copland’s attempt to pay homage to the Shaker influence on American
culture. Since they were writing for a ballet, Copland and Graham initially
chose “Simple Gifts” because of its references to dancing:
When true simplicity is gained
To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d
To turn, turn will be our delight
’Till by turning, turning we come round right.
Our music
for this week is a performance of Libertango, composed by Argentine composer Astor
Piazolla. The performers are the twelve cellists of the Berlin Philharmonic
Orchestra.
Astor
Piazolla is one of the most important musical voices of the twentieth century. He
was driving force behind the development of the tango as a popular musical form, and many have called him the “Duke
Ellington of tango.” Much like his European counterparts Bartok and Kodaly,
Piazolla was fascinated by folk music and sought to expose it to a wider
audience. To do so, he blended Argentine folk tunes with elements of classical,
jazz, and rock-and-roll. This combination of influences is a large part of what
made his music appealing to such a wide audience. In fact, Libertango is often
referred to as part of the pseudo-genre “nuevo tango,” which combined tango
form with other styles of music to create a Latin fusion of sorts.
This week’s
music also serves to point out an important but often overlooked fact about
orchestras. It is easy to forget the individual musicians in an orchestra because
of the collective nature of the performance, but we should remember that each
of those musicians is an incredible talent in his or her own right. Most if not
all of them could probably get up in front of the orchestra at any moment and
perform a full solo concerto. To get their position in the orchestra, each one
of them had to go through multiple rounds of ridiculously competitive auditions
that included massive amounts of music. As displayed by this performance by the
cellists of the Berlin Phil, we should be careful not to overlook the
individual talents of orchestral musicians.
For the final
installment in our series on Brahms’ symphonies, we will hear his Fourth
Symphony (my personal favorite), played by the Chamber Orchestra of Europe under the baton of Bernard
Haitink.
The Fourth Symphony is the capstone. It is structurally
perfect, emotionally overwhelming, and arrestingly personal. It is Brahms’
worldview in a piece of music, saturated with sadness, joy, hopelessness, and
an occasional burst of inspiration.
This was the first full symphony I ever performed. It was in 2008, I was 15, and the conductor of the Chicago Lyric Opera was conducting the NH All-State Orchestra. During the first evening of rehearsals, he mercilessly drilled us on the technical elements of the symphony. On the second day, he stretched our expressive capacity to its limit. In the concert the following day, he found a way to let the orchestra loose. It was magical.
Here’s what to listen for in each movement:
The opening melody is timeless. It returns over and over again, each time sweeping into the spotlight with an overwhelming and graceful swell. Listen for the melancholy sighs of the violins that ride on the rolling notes of the cellos.
The fanfare at the opening is just a introduction; the real melody starts at 13:18 (with the secondary theme starting at 15:27) and seems to calm the agitated atmosphere of the dark first movement. In my humble opinion, this theme may just be Brahms’ loveliest.
In homage to Beethoven, the third movement is a dance. It was so popular at the premiere that the audience ask that it be repeated as the encore. It is the lone moment of cheerfulness in the entire symphony.
The fourth movement is a Ciaconna (a form of Baroque dance). The opening theme is built on a simple ascending scale that Brahms then proceeded to write 34 variations for. This movement returns to the darkness of the first movement, then descends to even darker depths.
This Week's Music 