Composers and Their Teachers I: Monteverdi and Ingegneri

During his youth in Cremona, Monteverdi studied with Marc’Antonio Ingegneri. Likely with Ingegneri he studied counterpoint and text-setting (what would today be called "studying composition") in addition to viol and voice. As Monteverdi would later go on to play viol and compose for the court at Mantua, I imagine Ingegneri’s curriculum was excellent. Monteverdi dedicated his first five publications to his teacher.

Ingegneri was a humble, pious man, which during the late Renaissance meant strict, in his personal and professional life, and likely expected the same from others. He was friends with the future Pope Gregory XIV, himself a strict and pious leader, and was a musician in the church after the Council of Trent demanded new strictures on polyphonic music. In short, he was likely well-educated, talented, disciplined, and politically savvy. (One should never underestimate the political climate surrounding composers of the past; it’s yet another reason why music history is the study of music, as it existed within the culture at large. The two are irrevocably linked)

Ingegneri could be very gently revolutionary as well. And yes, I know the limitations of calling someone ‘gently revolutionary.’ Even after the Council of Trent, Ingegneri continued writing complex polyphonic masses, even to the point of unintelligible text setting. His madrigals and motets contain more homophonic settings, but feature a greater use of dissonance to “make the composition more lachrymose.” 

Ingegneri died in 1592. It is possible that Ingegneri was also teacher to Benedetto Pallavicino, a famous madrigalist and sometime rival of Monteverdi. Monteverdi and Pallavicino (sounds like a good name for a coffee flavor) worked together in Mantua at the Gonzaga court and had what seems now to be a professional rivalry. This likely contributed to Pallavicino’s slide into obscurity. 

Some weeks ago a question popped into my head: which Christian denomination has had the best compositions/composers/musicians? If the question was merely sheer volume the Catholics win no contest, but I wanted to know where the real talent lies. I ended up deciding upon the Lutherans (just my opinion; not trying to start a debate), who can claim Michael Praetorius, Heinrich Schütz, and of course J.S. Bach as their best. The Catholics, on the other hand, finish a close second, with Giovanni da Palestrina doubtless the most esteemed representative of Catholic music. However, it can be disheartening to hear contemporary Catholic music in some churches, especially after bearing witness to the incredible vocal tradition which forms the backbone of the liturgy (or at least it used to). Perhaps there is still a place in the church for two loyal sons like Monteverdi and his teacher, Marc’Antonio Ingegneri. 

You can begin to sample Ingegneri's compositions here and here, and look to Arkivmusic.com for some recordings.

N.B. All opinions expressed in this weblog are solely that of the writer, and not of any administrative body or entity. Any copyrighted works exhibited here are included for the purpose of criticism, comment, scholarship, and research. All other rights reserved by the author.

Composers and Their Teachers

In the history of music, we too often (in my opinion) study the winners, the revolutionary, firebrands who blazed their own path and sent music along a new path, blah blah blah. And by referring to them as ‘winners’ I generally mean those composers whose music was premiered, played, played, and played again. After all, that is how we have the music we have today. 

But that is only the upper 10% of the musical history iceberg (music-berg?). There are generally twice as many composers who played it safe, or worked with the authorities, or who only barely broke new ground with their compositions, or who did not at all. In fact, I daresay that most composers fit this mold to some extent. Don’t forget, between 1823 - 1825 Beethoven not only composed the Diabelli Variations, Ninth Symphony, and Missa Solemnis, but also Bundeslied, op. 122, and his Six Bagatelles, op. 126 (his last work for piano). These pieces show that a composer can be dramatic and access the depths of human expression and understanding, and be light and fluffy, even at the same time. So, at times I like to give back by reading, listening, and attempting to understand the unappreciated musicians of the past. Lately, this has taken the form of studying the teachers of famous musicians of the distant and not-too-distant past. 

I would never be so bold as to suggest that a teacher is due all the credit afforded to his famous student. However, I do want to shine a light and give a little more appreciation to the (mostly) unknown teachers who helped mold minds and hearts to be receptive to divine musical influences. 

N.B. All opinions expressed in this weblog are solely that of the writer, and not of any administrative body or entity. Any copyrighted works exhibited here are included for the purpose of criticism, comment, scholarship, and research. All other rights reserved by the author.

Hindemith, Gould, and the Brass Players

I know, the title sounds like a bad fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm. But the subject is one of my favorite records; spoken both as a brass player, and as a general music lover: Glenn Gould and members of the Philadelphia Orchestra playing Hindemith’s complete brass & piano sonatas on Columbia records. 

Glenn Gould, while best-known now for his brilliant, if eccentric recordings of Bach’s keyboard works (even including the bizarre recording of the Art of Fugue on organ and piano, also recorded music by the Second Viennese School, in addition to various other Renaissance Era and Twentieth Century composers. His wonderful recording of Hindemith’s Piano Sonatas, a recording which makes Hindemith seem warm, intimate, and humanistic, as compared to his often perceived cold and severe style, sets a brilliant precedent for future pianists. 

But its his recordings of Hindemith’s complete sonatas for brass instruments and piano which really sticks in my mind, years after I first heard it. Now the recording can only be heard in a series of mid-level, mid-price CD transfers, still on Columbia. Even so, Gould’s interpretations (along with his collaborators) are sometimes odd, or surprising, or goofy, but never boring. And do yourself a favor and try to track down the original vinyl recording for a real experience. 

This particular recording points to a common thread through Gould’s discography: his affinity for repertoire that is (how does one say?) off-the-beaten-path. Look at his discography on wikipedia. What living pianist has recorded discs with music of Orlando Gibbons and William Byrd, in addition to the Hindemith sonatas, and a disc of works by Alban Berg, Schoenberg, Ernst Krenek? Not as many as there should be. 

The brass playing on the Hindemith record is definitely old-school, which I like, and individualistic, which I love. I couldn’t, in good conscience, recommend a student listen to the brass players with the intention of emulating their sounds. Styles have changed, and records like this prove it. But, if we are ever to have soloists, chamber musicians, orchestral musicians, teachers, etc., who learn once again to think for themselves and come up with original ideas and interpretations and break free from the homogenous, bland, grey, boring sameness, we need to listen more than ever, to players such as these. 

N.B. All opinions expressed in this weblog are solely that of the writer, and not of any administrative body or entity. Any copyrighted works exhibited here are included for the purpose of criticism, comment, scholarship, and research. All other rights reserved by the author.

Eccentricity and Composers I: Erik Satie

(Unatributed painting of Satie, from the Bibliothèque nationale de France)

        The word eccentric fits Satie better than perhaps any other composer of his generation. He come of age performing in the famous Le Chat Noir cabaret in Montmartre, became the official composer for Joséphin Péladan’s Rosicrucian sect, The Mystic Order of the Rose + Cross, founded his own Christian sect, The First Church of Jesus Christ, Conductor (of which he was the sole member), spent eight days in jail for insulting a writer critical of his ballet Parade, got into a fistfight with the music critic Henry Gauthier-Villars, all the while composing his own brand of delicate, spiky, Medieval-ish music, often designed to upset critics and audiences alike. Satie also, in 1917, single-handedly created a type of music intended not be listened to, Musique d'ameublement.

Debussy once referred to Satie as “a gentle medieval musician lost in this century”, reflecting on the popular image of Satie as the gently satirical court jester of the Paris establishment. There is surely more to Satie than this image, more to his music than merely the Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes, so often heard in movies and TV shows. Much of his music is passionate and his absurdist titles sometimes disguise music of great intellect and craftsmanship. His ballets especially show a higher degree of craftsmanship and (occasional) seriousness, which contradicts the common opinion of Satie. 

        Satie’s aesthetic choices and life also has implications for musicians of today. Debussy’s depiction of Satie as a “gentle medieval musician” points to his anti-Romantic views on music and performance. Although Satie did not leave behind a manifesto of his aesthetic or compositional style, his life story reveals a performer unbound by traditional norms and the Romantic dogma of the artist as “prophet” or “hero” or “saint.” 

We are very familiar with this dogma, and comfortable with the image of the artists as alienated genius, especially of the Austro-Germanic tradition, but Satie’s entire life was a refutation of this idea. Satie left the Paris Conservatory and did most of his learning on the job in the cabarets and salons of Paris, thereby allowing himself to stand outside the tradition of higher learning, which was as constricting then as it is now. He despised Wagner (whose music was enjoying a surge in popularity in Paris during Satie’s early years) and wrote music which was made for pure enjoyment, rather than quasi-religious ecstasy. 

In short, Satie was a great eccentric, and a talented composer of an un-Romantic type. It’s certainly not for nothing that his music is enjoyed in so-called “popular” art the world over, from transcriptions by world music ensembles, to those hackneyed wedding classics and music for relaxation recordings. Perhaps we could learn something from Satie’s challenging aesthetic and humble attitudes. And perhaps we need a few more eccentrics in our art form.

Visit peladan.org for more information and artwork by the artist. 

Satie on wikipedia.

Visit Satie's grave in Arcueil. 

N.B. All opinions expressed in this weblog are solely that of the writer, and not of any administrative body or entity. Any copyrighted works exhibited here are included for the purpose of criticism, comment, scholarship, and research. All other rights reserved by the author.  

Eccentricity and Composers

We all know them, they are the people who make our lives interesting. They are the ones who make us say “wow”, or “I can’t believe people choose to live like that” or merely laugh to assuage our discomfort. Some people call them eccentric, some call them mad, and there many of them in the histories of classical music. Many of them gained this reputation because of their compositions, and others through their personalities and decorum. But either way we all know them, and in this series of posts I intend to explore those composers. 

Perhaps its fitting that many of these composers date from the “Romantic Era” and later, when the myth of the Romantic artist had manifested itself, the archetype being the ol’ Ludwig van. Romantic artists tended to co-opt earlier musicians and repackage them as their own, although not without some vindication. Artists wanted to see themselves as tremendously feeling individuals, as national heroes, and as great innovators who wiped away all that was old and corrupt to usher in what was new and exciting. It was only natural that this idea was taken to excess (in some cases before the nineteenth century was even finished). 

The next post will concern itself with the most charming of eccentrics, Erik Satie. 

Painting: Die Lebenstufen (1835) by Caspar David Freidrich. This is the same author of the more famous Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer, an image constantly used on album covers of classical works. 

N.B. All opinions expressed on this weblog are solely that of the writer, and not of any administrative body or entity. Any copyrighted works exhibited here are included for the purpose of criticism, comment, scholarship, and research. All other rights reserved by the author. 

A little Mendelssohn fanfare to begin this webiddy-bloggidy-blig-blag-blog.

Composed as a birthday greeting to his friend Ignaz Moscheles. From the book, Letters of Felix Mendelssohn to Ignaz and Charlotte Moscheles, English version originally published in 1888. Digitized by Google Books.