Have you ever heard the pipe organ in Old Cabell Hall on the grounds of the University?
Are you one of the many fans of organ music who can’t get enough of Widor’s famous Toccata?
Here’s your chance to accomplish both feats in one sitting.
On Thursday, April 29, 2010 at 8pm, the McIntire Department of Music will present organist alumna Ginny Chilton and soprano faculty member Lily Hsieh in a program of music from late 19th- and early 20th-century France.
The featured organ work will be Charles Marie Widor’s Symphony No. 5, concluding with its famous Toccata. Vocal works to be accompanied by Ms. Chilton at the organ will include the “Pie Jesu” from the Fauré Requiem, a little-known Ave Maria by Widor himself, Gounod’s Ave Maria based on Bach’s C-major Prelude, Franck’s La Processione, and other pieces.
ABOUT THE ORGAN
Old Cabell Hall on the Central Grounds of the University Virginia boasts one of the earliest organs by famed American builder E. M. Skinner, and one of the few of his organs that survive in original condition and in its original site. The three keyboard (or manuals) instrument was installed in 1906, less than a decade after the construction of Cabell Hall, and was given a thorough renovation by the Thompson-Allen firm of New Haven, Connecticut, in 1983.
Watch this blog for more information about the organ and the man whose name is attached to the McIntire Department of Music, Paul Goodloe McIntire; 2010 marks the 150th anniversary of his birth.
The complete program of the upcoming recital is:
MUSIC FROM LATE-ROMANTIC FRANCE
Featuring the E.M. SKINNER ORGAN (1906)
Thursday, 29 April 2010
8:00 p.m.
Old Cabell Hall Auditorium
Pastorale 1868
César Franck (1822-1890)
Ave Maria
J. S. Bach/Charles Gounod (1818-1893)
Ave Maria, Op. 24
Charles Marie Widor (1844-1937)
Alleluia (Exultate, jubilate)
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)
Agnus Dei
Georges Bizet (1838-1875)
Pie Jesu (Requiem, 1877)
Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)
En prière 1890
Gabriel Fauré
La procession 1888
César Franck
Villanelle
Eva dell’Aqua (1856-1930)
Symphonie No. 5 in F Minor 1887
Charles-Marie Widor
Showing posts with label performances. Show all posts
Showing posts with label performances. Show all posts
Friday, April 23, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
More on Encores
Ralph's comments about encores raise interesting questions. At one time they were almost mandatory, but today half the audience is on the way out the door when an encore is about to be played. In a recent Berlin concert, the Vienna Philharmonic under Loren Maazel after an ecstatically received performance of music by Beethoven, Debussy, and Ravel played as an encore Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody #5, which was a perfect choice. Quite often orchestral encores are often routine, but what could be better than Maazel's recalling a great orchestra's home city?
There was a time when a the public at the opera would demand that a favorite singer encore a particularly showy aria. "Bis! Bis!" would be heard echoing from the rafters after the prima donna or primo uomo completed a show-stopper. Up to the time of Verdi and Wagner, singers would often play fast and loose with the composer's music, so a reprise of a favorite aria by a beloved singer was to be expected. Now the bis is rarely heard in the opera house.
At the Metropolitan Opera last season the fine young lyric tenor Juan Diego Florez let it be known that he might be disposed to reprise "O mes amis" from Donizetti's "La fille du régiment," with its cascade of high Cs. Naturally the audience clamored for it, and he delivered an encore of the aria in style. But that is rare these days. We have taken to heart Toscanini's directive, "Come il scritto!" ("as it's written").
Encores usually are short, popular pieces aimed at sending the audience home happy and with a warm feeling toward the artist. Horowitz rarely would let the audience leave without hearing him play one of his beloved technical showpieces. Few who heard him earlier in his career would ever forget his own fantasy arrangement of "The Stars and Stripes Forever." Encores were intended to reward an audience that received the performer's artistry especially warmly.
Today, when even the dreariest and most routine performance is received with the perfunctory standing ovation, the encore seems to have lost its significance. Still, we concertgoers seem to love encores. The only person in the house who dreads them is the house manager, who is thinking about paying all that overtime!
There was a time when a the public at the opera would demand that a favorite singer encore a particularly showy aria. "Bis! Bis!" would be heard echoing from the rafters after the prima donna or primo uomo completed a show-stopper. Up to the time of Verdi and Wagner, singers would often play fast and loose with the composer's music, so a reprise of a favorite aria by a beloved singer was to be expected. Now the bis is rarely heard in the opera house.
At the Metropolitan Opera last season the fine young lyric tenor Juan Diego Florez let it be known that he might be disposed to reprise "O mes amis" from Donizetti's "La fille du régiment," with its cascade of high Cs. Naturally the audience clamored for it, and he delivered an encore of the aria in style. But that is rare these days. We have taken to heart Toscanini's directive, "Come il scritto!" ("as it's written").
Encores usually are short, popular pieces aimed at sending the audience home happy and with a warm feeling toward the artist. Horowitz rarely would let the audience leave without hearing him play one of his beloved technical showpieces. Few who heard him earlier in his career would ever forget his own fantasy arrangement of "The Stars and Stripes Forever." Encores were intended to reward an audience that received the performer's artistry especially warmly.
Today, when even the dreariest and most routine performance is received with the perfunctory standing ovation, the encore seems to have lost its significance. Still, we concertgoers seem to love encores. The only person in the house who dreads them is the house manager, who is thinking about paying all that overtime!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Encores and the unfiltered expectation
Anne Midgette wrote a piece recently on encores (which itself has been encored throughout the classical music world). In light of the revelation that program notes can get in the way of audience enjoyment, I found one of her observations particularly interesting.
As you may recall, an article in the journal Psychology of Music by Elizabeth Hellmuth Margulis came to this conclusion:
As you may recall, an article in the journal Psychology of Music by Elizabeth Hellmuth Margulis came to this conclusion:
Results showed a significant negative effect of description, suggesting that prefacing an excerpt with a text description reduces enjoyment of the music. Conceptualizing listening by connecting it to linguistically named correlates (a practice fundamental to music training) may have more multifarious (and not always straightforwardly beneficial) effects on musical experience than commonly assumed.Now keep in mind as you read Midgette's observation:
Departing from the printed program, [the encore] gets listeners to sit up and take notice, speculating on what’s to come, trying to figure out what they’ve heard. In a way, it puts the audience into a more active role. I’m struck by how many people want to possess the encore, rather than the body of the recital; many people write after a concert to say they want to buy the music they last heard. I think there may be a sense of ownership involved in hearing music without intermediary, working to identify it.What's your experience with encores? Is it the best part of the concert? Something special? Or does it serve another purpose for you?
Monday, March 8, 2010
The Sound of No Hands Clapping?
Writing in the Guardian, Alex Ross cites an awkward moment for President Obama:
Those of us steeped in the classical concert-going tradition know not to applaud between movements. It's simply not done!
But as Alex Ross points out, it wasn't always that way. Audiences applauded after each movement to show their appreciation, and sometimes even demanded the movement be repeated.
While the latter might not happen nowadays, the former is a quite natural reaction to anyone who attends concerts for any other musical genre. There the tradition is to clap after each song (or piece). And if there's a particularly good solo in the middle, it's appropriate to clap during the music as well.
This counter-intuitive convention of the concert hall is one of the perceived barriers to those that otherwise might be interested in classical music. So what's the solution?
Well, what if we went back to the earlier tradition (and the current tradition for every other genre of music) and applauded after each movement? I'm not sure, but I think it could be a good thing for at least three reasons.
1) If you had a strong positive reaction to the music, you could release it through applause, further enhancing the experience.
2) For those unfamiliar with classical music in general, the applause could provide clues as to where the ensemble was in the work, and with the help of the program newcomers could better follow the work.
3) It would lower the anxiety level of not only newcomers but seasoned concert-goers as well. Because here's a little secret: when the work's unfamiliar, it's not always evident when the work's finished, or just a section of it is.
It's a great idea, but the question always is -- who's going to do it first?
In the meantime, here's a tip for classical newcomers: when in doubt, wait for the conductor to face the audience. Or if it's a chamber music concert, watch for the players to put down their instruments and look at the audience. Better yet, just don't be the first to clap.
- Ralph
Last autumn, Barack Obama hosted an evening of classical music at the White House. Beforehand, he said, "Now, if any of you in the audience are newcomers to classical music, and aren't sure when to applaud, don't be nervous. Apparently, President Kennedy had the same problem. He and Jackie held several classical music events here, and more than once he started applauding when he wasn't supposed to. So the social secretary worked out a system where she'd signal him through a crack in the door. Now, fortunately, I have Michelle to tell me when to applaud. The rest of you are on your own."
Those of us steeped in the classical concert-going tradition know not to applaud between movements. It's simply not done!
But as Alex Ross points out, it wasn't always that way. Audiences applauded after each movement to show their appreciation, and sometimes even demanded the movement be repeated.
While the latter might not happen nowadays, the former is a quite natural reaction to anyone who attends concerts for any other musical genre. There the tradition is to clap after each song (or piece). And if there's a particularly good solo in the middle, it's appropriate to clap during the music as well.
This counter-intuitive convention of the concert hall is one of the perceived barriers to those that otherwise might be interested in classical music. So what's the solution?
Well, what if we went back to the earlier tradition (and the current tradition for every other genre of music) and applauded after each movement? I'm not sure, but I think it could be a good thing for at least three reasons.
1) If you had a strong positive reaction to the music, you could release it through applause, further enhancing the experience.
2) For those unfamiliar with classical music in general, the applause could provide clues as to where the ensemble was in the work, and with the help of the program newcomers could better follow the work.
3) It would lower the anxiety level of not only newcomers but seasoned concert-goers as well. Because here's a little secret: when the work's unfamiliar, it's not always evident when the work's finished, or just a section of it is.
It's a great idea, but the question always is -- who's going to do it first?
In the meantime, here's a tip for classical newcomers: when in doubt, wait for the conductor to face the audience. Or if it's a chamber music concert, watch for the players to put down their instruments and look at the audience. Better yet, just don't be the first to clap.
- Ralph
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The "High End" and Live Performance
In the context of music reproduction, the "high end" refers to the equipment used for optimum resolution of recorded music and sometimes also to those listeners who use that equipment for listening to music.With the arrival of digitally recorded music on CD in the early 1980s, the promise was made that we would have "perfect recordings of music forever." That claim later proved to be wildly inflated. The quality of early digital recordings on CD, particularly of classical music, to most ears was demonstrably inferior to the quality of the best recordings on traditional vinyl LP records.
The auditory gap between digital recordings and analogue recordings on vinyl has narrowed considerably, particularly with respect to recordings in new formats such as SACD and DVD-Audio, although CD still wins for convenience hands down. None of these new digital "high-rez" formats shows any sign of replacing traditional CDs, at least not any time soon.
Conversely, there is a resurgence of interest in high-quality vinyl recordings, mostly reissues of classic recordings. Download formats such as MP3 remain inferior in quality to CDs for most discriminating listeners of classical music.
Sometimes lost in the competition among formats for recorded music is precisely the objective sought to be achieved. It is assumed that the goal of recorded music is to reproduce as nearly as possible the experience of live performance (except, of course, for rock and pop, where virtually all recordings are made in the studio).
But how realistic is that goal? To achieve any semblance of the experience of live performance presupposes first, a superior recording by producers and engineers made with technical skill and musical sensitivity. Second, the listener must have a home reproduction system that can extract all the musical content from the recording and then reproduce it in a way that mimics the original performance but in a vastly different acoustic environment. To put it another way, can any recording played at home, no matter how skillfully recorded, ever convincingly correspond to the experience of hearing the performance live at Carnegie Hall?
Even to approach the live experience requires expensive, sometimes prohibitively expensive equipment. Afficionados of the high end think nothing of owning amplifiers, turntables, and speakers costing tens of thousands of dollars. A well-designed and properly configured sound reproduction system can produce a very satisfying experience for any music lover.
But even if the acoustical properties of the listening environment are optimized, does the experience truly mimic the experience of attending a concert performance live? The listener, after all, is at home, not at the Met or at La scala, two venues that differ radically from each other in almost every respect. Does a great recording of Joshua Bell played through a superior stereo system in a professionally prepared listening room really bring Joshua Bell into the room?
Some systems do an astoundingly good job of recreating the sound of Joshua Bell's performance–the quality of the sound of his violin, his phrasing, the nuances of his musical interpretation. But still, it is not like hearing him live, nor can it ever be, since the live performance is bound up so intimately with the occasion and the venue in which he performs.
Moreover, virtually every professionally made recording enables the performer to "touch up" the performance to his and the producer's satisfaction. An element of artificiality is inherently present in a recording. Still, many listeners prefer the convenience of having a recording always available for pleasure or study.
While I enjoy recordings, I still miss the sense of occasion, that frisson of tension and excitement that always precedes the curtain going up at the opera. So even though I am a devotee of the high end, it will never be equivalent to the experience of live performance. A live performance is always a bit of a hire-wire act. Hearing a performance live almost always means hearing wrong notes, but as one astute listener commented on hearing Arthur Rubinstein live, "But what wrong notes!"
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Ever-Expanding Repertoire
My program on WTJU, "Gamut," is one of exploration. When I started the program, I decided not to repeat any work -- each show would have music that I had never aired before.
One of the questions I'm repeatedly asked is, "Won't you run out of music?"
Not likely. We're talking about 1,000 years of music, and more being written every day. And there's more being discovered, too.
Last week, two piano pieces by Mozart came to light. Sure, they're over 200 years old, but no one's heard them since they were composed, so the music's certainly new to us!
The music resided in the Mozarteum Foundation of Salzburg, and was only recently authenticated. Mozart wrote a finite number of works, and its natural to assume that his catalog of works was set shortly after his death. And even if there are early works and unpublished manuscripts not found initially, that the chances of finding them would dramatically decrease over time.
After all, these manuscripts would be stored (most likely) in central Europe. The places where they resided would have had to survive the ravages of the Napoleonic Wars and two World Wars. Not to mention fires, floods and other natural disasters. And the inevitable decay of the paper itself, becoming more brittle and fragile over time, the ink fading as it chemically breaks down. And the custodians themselves -- some consider old documents a historic treasure; some just so much waste paper to burn.
It's natural to think that after two centuries whatever was going to be found has been found. But the world continues to surprise.
So I'm not worried about running out of music for "Gamut." I haven't even played all the Mozart currently available, and after last week, I need to add two more works to my list!
- Ralph
One of the questions I'm repeatedly asked is, "Won't you run out of music?"
Not likely. We're talking about 1,000 years of music, and more being written every day. And there's more being discovered, too.
Last week, two piano pieces by Mozart came to light. Sure, they're over 200 years old, but no one's heard them since they were composed, so the music's certainly new to us!
The music resided in the Mozarteum Foundation of Salzburg, and was only recently authenticated. Mozart wrote a finite number of works, and its natural to assume that his catalog of works was set shortly after his death. And even if there are early works and unpublished manuscripts not found initially, that the chances of finding them would dramatically decrease over time.
After all, these manuscripts would be stored (most likely) in central Europe. The places where they resided would have had to survive the ravages of the Napoleonic Wars and two World Wars. Not to mention fires, floods and other natural disasters. And the inevitable decay of the paper itself, becoming more brittle and fragile over time, the ink fading as it chemically breaks down. And the custodians themselves -- some consider old documents a historic treasure; some just so much waste paper to burn.
It's natural to think that after two centuries whatever was going to be found has been found. But the world continues to surprise.
So I'm not worried about running out of music for "Gamut." I haven't even played all the Mozart currently available, and after last week, I need to add two more works to my list!
- Ralph
Monday, June 15, 2009
Gearing up for a Summer full of music
I got a lovely link to a somewhat local music festival in July. Lorin Maazel and Glenn Dichterow will be performing some of my favorite music in a rural setting, and I'm salivating at the thought!
It's the Castleton Music Festival in Rappahannock County, VA.
Of course, the cost is not for the feint of heart. Having tired of the traffic getting into Wolf Trap, and wanting something a little closer to home with artists I truly enjoy, this seems to be the perfect solution. I'm hoping it is!
It's the Castleton Music Festival in Rappahannock County, VA.
Of course, the cost is not for the feint of heart. Having tired of the traffic getting into Wolf Trap, and wanting something a little closer to home with artists I truly enjoy, this seems to be the perfect solution. I'm hoping it is!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
What's Classical Music? Part 2 - Medieval Mystery
In part one I outlined some of the guidelines I personally use to select music to air on "Gamut." And for the most part, that rule works pretty well. What is classical music? Primarily (IMHO) it's music conceived, composed, arranged, and notated by a single person.
OK, that's pretty straightforward if you're dealing with Beethoven, or Vaughan Williams, or Brahms, or Corelli. But what about music from an earlier time?
The importance of the composer is something that really didn't come about until the 13oo's -- and even then it was primarily in the field of sacred compositions. It would be another 200 years before composer names were regularly attached to the more popular forms of music.
And there's the question of notation. Scholars may debate how loud Mozart intended a passage to be played when he marked it double forte. But the notation makes it clear that he wanted a particular combination of instruments to play louder (to some degree) at that spot in the composition.
But musical notation hasn't always been that exact. Instrumental combinations (or in some cases even voices) weren't specified in many compositions from the renaissance and earlier. The earliest examples of notation are little more than lines above the text, indicating the general direction the melody should take. They served more as reminders for singers who (presumably) already knew the tune.
And up through the 1400's, secular music wasn't written down at all. Musicians were expected to just know all the top hits, in the same way that modern professional musicians can play the standards without referring to the music.
What makes music classical when we don't know who the composer was, or what forces he (and occasionally she) intended? My personal rule for early music is this: if the performance gets as close as possible to the original intent and/or sound of the composition -- and is an engaging performance in its own right -- then I'll air it.
There are many different versions of the anonymous "Greensleeves" that I'll air. Solo lute, lute and voice, renaissance instrumental ensemble -- all those are valid, and represent the music as it would have been heard at the time. An arrangement for brass quintet? Sorry, no.
Ditto for the loosey-goosey scores of the medieval and renaissance sacred composers. We may not know how many voices Machaut intended on each part, but we do know he intended it to be sung. So a small vocal quartet works, as does a large choir. A saxophone quintet? No.
So rule two: if the composer's exact intentions are unknown, then performances that come as close as possible to what scholarship indicates they might be qualifies as classical music for me.
But there's more to the messy world of classical music. I'll explain in part 3.
OK, that's pretty straightforward if you're dealing with Beethoven, or Vaughan Williams, or Brahms, or Corelli. But what about music from an earlier time?
The importance of the composer is something that really didn't come about until the 13oo's -- and even then it was primarily in the field of sacred compositions. It would be another 200 years before composer names were regularly attached to the more popular forms of music.
And there's the question of notation. Scholars may debate how loud Mozart intended a passage to be played when he marked it double forte. But the notation makes it clear that he wanted a particular combination of instruments to play louder (to some degree) at that spot in the composition.
But musical notation hasn't always been that exact. Instrumental combinations (or in some cases even voices) weren't specified in many compositions from the renaissance and earlier. The earliest examples of notation are little more than lines above the text, indicating the general direction the melody should take. They served more as reminders for singers who (presumably) already knew the tune.
And up through the 1400's, secular music wasn't written down at all. Musicians were expected to just know all the top hits, in the same way that modern professional musicians can play the standards without referring to the music.
What makes music classical when we don't know who the composer was, or what forces he (and occasionally she) intended? My personal rule for early music is this: if the performance gets as close as possible to the original intent and/or sound of the composition -- and is an engaging performance in its own right -- then I'll air it.
There are many different versions of the anonymous "Greensleeves" that I'll air. Solo lute, lute and voice, renaissance instrumental ensemble -- all those are valid, and represent the music as it would have been heard at the time. An arrangement for brass quintet? Sorry, no.
Ditto for the loosey-goosey scores of the medieval and renaissance sacred composers. We may not know how many voices Machaut intended on each part, but we do know he intended it to be sung. So a small vocal quartet works, as does a large choir. A saxophone quintet? No.
So rule two: if the composer's exact intentions are unknown, then performances that come as close as possible to what scholarship indicates they might be qualifies as classical music for me.
But there's more to the messy world of classical music. I'll explain in part 3.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Who loves classical music in Central Virginia?
While other genres of music take a front-page stance in Central Virgina, it seems classical music doesn't get a whole lot of press. Reviewers for classical music performances in Central Virginia seem juvenile, at best; non-existent, at worst. Do people read this stuff? Do they care? Who cares about classical music in Central Virginia?
Certainly, the performers care. I'm no longer a "performer" but I guess I qualify as talent as a radio announcer and classical music director for WTJU. I spent decades studying classical music, and I do care. The other announcers at WTJU care, too - but who else is out there? Do classical music performers want or need reviewers? Do reviews raise standards, increase interest, or matter?
Another opinion that exists is that Central Virginia is an incubator for musicians, providing learning experiences for singers (i.e, Ash Lawn), collegiate students (Chamber Music Society), and opportunities for amateur locals (Oratorio Society). Does this part of the world want more?
Yet another notion crops up: can we afford it? I hear people bemoan the cost of concert tickets at certain venues, and I can understand both sides. Having been a performer, I can tell you, I didn't see a whole lot of the money coming out of the price of concert tickets. It's one of the reasons I'm no longer a professional performer! There are far smarter people out there who can dissect a concert ticket into it's parts - but I promise, the vast majority of performers don't take home more than 20% of that money. Perhaps having this "incubator" status helps to keep prices down. We don't expect a whole lot in the process. For those that want the more elite performers, paying the price tag isn't so much of a burden. I'll be interested in seeing the audience size for the upcoming Emanuel Ax performance at the Paramount. Not that I don't love him and what he can do - but does Central Virginia?
And, the last part of this little desperate query: will even this blog fail because most of the classical music lovers in Central Virginia don't use the internet? Tweeting, using FB, etc. hasn't generated a whole lot of interest so far - is that because those interested parties get their information in another way?
Certainly, the performers care. I'm no longer a "performer" but I guess I qualify as talent as a radio announcer and classical music director for WTJU. I spent decades studying classical music, and I do care. The other announcers at WTJU care, too - but who else is out there? Do classical music performers want or need reviewers? Do reviews raise standards, increase interest, or matter?
Another opinion that exists is that Central Virginia is an incubator for musicians, providing learning experiences for singers (i.e, Ash Lawn), collegiate students (Chamber Music Society), and opportunities for amateur locals (Oratorio Society). Does this part of the world want more?
Yet another notion crops up: can we afford it? I hear people bemoan the cost of concert tickets at certain venues, and I can understand both sides. Having been a performer, I can tell you, I didn't see a whole lot of the money coming out of the price of concert tickets. It's one of the reasons I'm no longer a professional performer! There are far smarter people out there who can dissect a concert ticket into it's parts - but I promise, the vast majority of performers don't take home more than 20% of that money. Perhaps having this "incubator" status helps to keep prices down. We don't expect a whole lot in the process. For those that want the more elite performers, paying the price tag isn't so much of a burden. I'll be interested in seeing the audience size for the upcoming Emanuel Ax performance at the Paramount. Not that I don't love him and what he can do - but does Central Virginia?
And, the last part of this little desperate query: will even this blog fail because most of the classical music lovers in Central Virginia don't use the internet? Tweeting, using FB, etc. hasn't generated a whole lot of interest so far - is that because those interested parties get their information in another way?
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