Russian Composers and the Revolution

Several books on the Bolshevik Revolution have been on my nightstand the past few months. The Revolution was supposed to usher in a new era of proletarian revolution and would eventually lead to the promised socialist utopia. These are (and have always been) dangerous thoughts, made especially dangerous emanating from the mouths of brilliant, manipulative, strong, influential, compelling, eloquent leaders of men. The effect of the Revolution on the Russian people, especially the upper-class and dissidents has been told numerous times and rightly so. The part where I get interested is what effects the Revolution had on composers and musicians, especially established composers. 

Since the fall of the Soviet Union there have been published several excellent works focusing on the plight of Soviet-era composers and the pressures they face, most of which focus on well-known artists such as Shostakovich, Prokofiev, and to a lesser extent Khachaturian, Stravinsky, and Myaskovsky. With the exception of perhaps Myaskovsky (who had composed several important works before the Revolution) and Stravinsky (who of course left before the Revolution for France) these composers were too young to really experience pre-Revolutionary Russia for themselves; most of their important works would be written after the Bolshevik Revolution. As mentioned in an earlier post [link here] Shostakovich, Prokofiev, and Mayaskovsky belong to the (my words) fourth generation of Russian composers. So what about the composers who were somewhat older but who survived the Revolution? What happened to them and how did the upheaval of the Bolshevik rise to power affect them? Let’s explore those composers. 

For clarity’s sake, I am thinking of these musicians as belonging to one of three categories:

1. Composers who were older and established when the Revolution happened. 
2. Composers who were of age and had already composed works when the Revolution happened. 
3. Composers who matured after the Revolution. 

Therefore we will only be focusing on composers in the first two categories. Here follows a list of Russian/Soviet composers in alphabetical order along with brief biographical notes and discussion of their relationship to the Communist regime.

Alexander Arkangelsky (1846 - 1924). Choral composer, popularized Orthodox music for other composers. One of the first composers to substitiue women’s voices for those of boys. Founded a choir (Arkangelsky Choir) with which he presented historical concerts where audiences heard compositions from the 16th century through the present for the first time. Choirmaster at the famous Christ the Savior Cathedral in Moscow. Emigrated to Prague after the Revolution, where his output dwindled to almost nothing.

Nikolai Artsybushev (1858 - 1937) Studied with Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, and was a member of Belyayev’s circle. Wrote a collective piece with other Russian composers for Belyayev’s publishing firm. Chaired Belyayev’s publishing house after the man died. Left in 1920 for Paris. 

Pavel Chesnokov (1877 - 1944) Very famous choral composer and conductor. The son of a precentor (music director) of the local church, he was sent to the Moscow Synodal School of Church Music in 1884. Studied there while the School was under the directorship of Stepan Smolensky, who remained a mentor for young Chesnokov. After his graduation he taught chant at the same institution, and took composition lessons with Mikhail Ippolitov-Ivanov. Later Chesnokov entered the Moscow Conservatory, studying with Sergei Vasilenko.

Chesnokov was hired to teach choral conducting at the Moscow Conservatory in 1920, and served as choirmaster at Christ the Savior Cathedral in Moscow a position he held until Stalin had the church destroyed in 1931*. [put in a brief aside about the church here] Chesnokov was forced to stop writing sacred choral music after the Revolution, so he turned to secular music instead. Chesnokov’s influential book on choral conducting proved too difficult to get published in the USSR (he was told you can’t publish apolitical books) and so his book had to wait for ten years to be published in the Soviet Union. 

Reinhold Gliere (1875 - 1956) Ukrainian composer. One of the Russian composers who worked well with the authorities after the Revolution. Appointed director of the Kiev Conservatory, and held a position at the Peoples Commissariat for Education where he studied Azerbaijani folk music, later incorporated into operas of his. This was seen as a positive evolution in music, as it aligned well with Soviet realism. He never left the Soviet Union. 

Alexander Gretchaninov (1864 - 1956) Russian composer, mostly remembered today for his Russian Orthodox music and other choral works. Enrolled in the Moscow Conservatory against his father’s wishes to study with Arensky and Taneyev. He would later enroll in the St Petersburg Conservatory and study with Rimsky-Korsakov as well. 

As an Orthodox composer, it would seem that he would be most vulnerable to the changes of the Revolution, but Gretchaninov seemed to want to fit in to the new regime. He composed a Hymn for a Free Russia in 1917. However, he left the Soviet Union in 1925 for Paris, and for the US in 1939. He is buried in New Jersey. He barely survived the Soviet starvation, saved only by friends smuggling food to him and his wife. His autobiography “My Life” (Published by Coleman-Ross in English in 1952) mentions numerous stories of his struggles for survival during and after the civil war and is a fantastic memoir of the time. 

Mikhail Ippolitov-Ivanov (1859 - 1935) Russian born condcutor, composer, educator. Highly valued as an educator and conductor in his time, but also with several importnat pieces. Director of the Moscow Conservatory from 1905 to 1924, and principal conductor of several theaters including the Bolshoi Opera. Managed to escape the ravages of the Revolution and was Presidnet of the Society of Writers and Composers in 1922. In his later years wrote many works based upon Russian and ethnic folk music, a technique encouraged by the USSR. Writing in such a style was a common move for composers who were unsure about their livelihood under the new regime. 

Interestingly enough, looking through Ippolitov-Ivanov’s works you see works written for the Tsar (see op. 12, Coronation Welcoming Cantata from 1895), many religious choral works, and even wrote after the Revolution a “Hymn to Labor” (op. 59, from 1927). All this would suggest that Ippolitov-Ivanov attempted to ingratiate himself to whomever was in power, and wrote what was popular and would get played. One his last works was “The Last Barricade” (1932, op. 74) a socialist-propaganda opera set in the post-French Revolution Commune. 

Nikolai Myaskovsky (1881 - 1950) As per my last post, Myaskovsky is of a similar generation as Glazunov; their dates are similar. He was a student of Lyadov and Rimsky-Korsakov at the St Petersburg Conservatory alongside his lifelong friend Sergei Prokofiev. Myaskovsky served in the army during WWI (his father was a military engineer and Myaskovsky was himself born in a military garrison), fighting and working in Austria and Galicia.

His father, aunt, and brother-in-law were all killed by the Red Army or Bolsheviks around the Revolution. In response Myaskovsky didn’t compose for three years. However, he would eventually write works that if not overly propagandic, at least had revolutionary themes, some of which praised the Revolution outright. And although he was dedicated to traditional forms (27 symphonies, 13 string quartets) he continued to skirt the authorities for much of his professional career. His Sixth Symphony (although overtly religious in some sections) became a favorite in the Soviet Union. The Twelfth Symphony was inspired by the ideas of collective farming, and his Sixteenth Symphony was inspired by the crash of the Maxim Gorky airplane. And in what appears to be a similar move of appeasement, his Twenty-Sixth Symphony is based upon Russian folk songs. He was denounced by Zhadanov in 1948, but refused to plead his case publicly, or ingratiate himself with the authorities. 

Nikolai Roslavets (1880 - 1944) Russian composer of Ukrainian origin. Member of the avant-garde Futurist wing of early Soviet composers. Fought for progressive, non-ideological, non-proletarian, modernist music in the new Bolshevik union. He mistakenly thought that the early openness to new artistic ideas and realism would last longer than Lenin’s death. He was wrong. He was accused, in the late 20s of formalism, and being a Trotskyite. He had to repent publicly, for his ‘mistakes’. He had intense trouble finding work, had to live in Uzbekistan to find a musical job, and was the victim of active disinformation and smears. 

Nikolai Cherepnin (1873 - 1945) Russian composer in a family of great composers. When the Revolution came he was in St Petersburg, and the blockade of the city brought his family to starvation. He accepted a post later in Tiflis (Georgia) where he soaked up local culture. One day at rehearsal for the local opera, a musician told him not to address his fellow orchestra members as ‘gentlemen’ but ‘comrades.’ It was the straw that broke the composers’ back. Cherepnin left Russia for France in 1921 never to return. 

Sergei Vasilenko (1872 - 1856) Moscow-born composer who originally studied law at Moscow University. He eventually changed directions and studied music at the Moscow Conservatory under the direction of Sergei Taneyev and Mikhail Ippolitov-Ivanov. Before the Conservatory he studied privately with Gretchaninov. Later he would teach at the same institution. Vasilenko’s name was used in the case against Nikolai Golovanov which ended in the conductor’s dismissal from the Bolshoi Opera in Moscow. Vasilenko came out of the firestorm relatively unscathed, although at the high cost of support from his former student, Golovanov. Vasilenko came from aristocracy, a fact he hid well from the Soviet authorities. His family owned a nice house in Moscow and several country estates, a fact that he conveniently left off of his personal files at his various conducting jobs. I wonder how many other composers did the same?

Vasilenko organized a series of concerts in Moscow called the Historic Public Concerts, which were aimed at introducing to the lower classes classical music presented in chronological order. Vasilenko was summomed to the police department at some time during these concerts and was assigned an undercover officer; apparently the authorities were worried about the populace rioting or fomenting unrest as a result of their increased education. His efforts won him supporters amongst the audience and with the later Soviet authorities. He was briefly a member of the Proletkult movement, which brought him to the notice of the authorities before they disbanded the organization in 1932. 

Vasilenko, in a private conversation once confided in a friend, “I write a lot. I take on everything, absolutely everything. You would ask why? I am wearing my last pair of shoes.” 

Alexander Y. Alexandrov (1883 - 1946) Founder of the Alexandrov Ensemble, famous in the Soviet Union. Composer of the National Anthem of the Soviet Union (and now the Russian Federation) and the Song of the Soviet Army. Worked as a Professor at the Moscow State Conservatory and recipient of the Stalin Prize. A good example of an artist who worked well (even thrived) in the new Soviet Union. 

Mikhail Gnessin (1883 - 1957) Rostov-born Jewish-Russian composer. The son of a rabbi, he was one of the most important Jewish composers in the early Soviet Union. Studied at the St Petersburg Conservatory where his teachers were Rimsky-Korsakov, Glazunov, and Anatoly Lyadov. He was briefly expelled from the Conservatory for participating in Socialist activities, and was readmitted a year later. He would continue to keep his skin-in-the-game during the pre-Revolution days; he was apparently another artist who flourished in the Revolutionary milieu and the newly-formed Soviet Union. Much of his pre-Revolution music was based on Jewish folk music, had Jewish themes, and Jewish subjects. He eventually taught composition at the Moscow Conservatory and the Gnessin Musical Institute (founded by his sisters). 

By the 1930s the Soviets began to crack down on non-conformity in the arts, which included anti-semitic attacks on Jewish musicians and composers. The Soviets eventually pressured his sisters to fire him from the Institute which bore his own name. Saturn devours his own. 

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.

The Russian Composers: A Short Timeline

I always find myself forgetting the timeline or history or chronology or whatever, of the famous Russian composers. Who was born earlier, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov or Chaikovsky? Of The Five, who outlived whom? How far apart in age were Glinka, Rimsky-Korsakov, and Stravinsky? 

I made a little list to remind myself. Here it is:

First generation: 1800 - 1825

• Mikhail Glinka, b. 1804 (sam year as premiere of the Eroica)
• Dargomyzhsky, b. 1813

Second Generation: 1825 - 1850

• Anton Rubenstein, b. 1829
• Borodin, b. 1833
• Nicolas Rubenstein, b. 1835
• Cesar Cui, b. 1835
• Balakirev, b. 1837
• Mussorgsky, b. 1839
• Chaikovsky 1840
• Rimsky Korsakov, b. 1844

Third Generation: 1850 - 1875

• Lyadov, b. 1855
• Sergei Taneyev, b. 1856
• Lyapunov, b. 1859
• Arensky, b. 1861
• Gretchaninov, b. 1864
• Glazunov, b. 1865
• Vasily Kallinikov, b. 1866
• Scriabin, b. 1872
• Rachmaninoff, b. (March 20) 1873
• Nikolai Tcherepnin, b. (May 15) 1873
• Glière, b. 1875

Fourth Generation: 1875 - 1900

• Roslavets, b. (Jan. 4) 1881
• Mayaskovsky, b. (Apr. 20) 1881
• Stravinsky, b. 1882
• Prokofiev, b. 1891
• Alexander Tcherepnin, b. 1899

And one more...

• Shostakovich, b. 1906

Igor Stravinsky died in 1971. Shostakovich died in 1975, and Alexander Tcherepnin died in 1977. 

Making this list gives me pause to consider the longevity of Igor Stravinsky. The man traveled, composed, conducted, rubbed elbows with movie stars in California, wrote lectures and was interviewed continually by Robert Craft. How did he achieve such a long life? Leaving the Soviet Union? 

Cesar Cui was also long-lived; he died aged 83 in 1918 (March). He was born under Nicholas I of Russia, and died after Lenin and the Bolsheviks took over the Russian Socialist Republic.  

Also this list is an interesting reminder that Chaikovsky is truly a child of the 19th century, and in fact is not too far removed from the Classical era. Do we see him as too much of a Romantic sometimes? He did treasure the music of Mozart above all others. Are there any interpreters who see Chaikovsky in this way? I often do not enjoy the intensely dramatic readings of his orchestral works. 

This is also a good reminder that Rimsky-Korsakov was truly a Romantic and a Modernist. Stravinsky saw him in this way. No one has a monopoly on the reputation of any composer. What were the most modern elements of R-K’s music? 

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.

Post-postmodern Neoclassical Polystylistic Late Romantic Serial Tintinnabulist

And Speaking of Hindemith...

Close reading of the previous entry on Paul Hindemith reveals that I neglected to appropriately label or categorize Herr Hindemith as a Neoclassicist or Modernist or ante-post-après-Modernist, or some other academic claptrap, thereby sucking the life out of his music and relegating him to a lower status amongst the Pantheon of great German Welt-shaking composers blah blah blah. My sarcasm is palpable. 

Here’s the thing, I dislike the Romantic and Classical labels, and doubly so the fractured  twentieth century tags. Just for fun, let’s try to name as many as we can. Ready, go:

Modernism, futurism, impressionism, post-romanticism, neoclassicism, experimentalism, expressionism, minimalism, serialism, polystylism, historicism, neoromanticism, post-minimalism...

Ow. My brain hurts.

These labels have merit to some extent, and it is helpful to be able to describe to students why this sounds like this and not like that. However, the tendency of the academics is to go way too far, and try to generalize individual practice for large-scale trends, and a little bit of Plato goes a long way. 

I’ve always seen composers as having percentages of classicism and romanticism, and Hindemith is a great example. His love of what could be termed ‘academic’ styles of composition (i.e. counterpoint, fugues, his constant use of classical forms), alternates with the romantic characters in his dramatic works (Johannes Kepler, Matthias Grünewald) and his quiet allegiance to German folk song and popular song. 

And just adding a bowtie makes him less scary already.

I find this attitude sometimes brings a fresh face to composers and works that I have grown sick of. For instance, I am often pleasantly surprised by the occasional moments of Romanticism in Haydn’s works, or Mozart’s. Alternatively there are very traditional, Classical elements in Liszt, Wagner, and Mahler (think of Mahler’s middle movements [I’ve often enjoyed the interior movements of Mahler’s Symphonies; after all, many of them were premiered piecemeal]). Felix Mendelssohn is another interesting Classical/Romantic composer. I wish we would talk more about Classical or Romantic trends in the composers we love, rather than simply paint them as one or the other. 

N.B. All photos are from the invaluable headquarters of Paul Hindemith on the interwebs: www.hindemith.info. 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.

Paul Hindemith: An Eighteenth Century Musician Living in the Twentieth

"It's okay, you don't need to be scared of me. I'm not that crazy-atonal-German-type composer, just a regular crazy-German composer.

I can think of no better accolade for Paul Hindemith than calling him an 18th century musician, stuck in the twentieth. Composers of that era, in addition to writing music, performed (in orchestras, chamber groups, as soloists), rehearsed, conducted, taught, arranged, and had to arrange concerts of orchestras and chamber musicians. Famously, J.S. Bach’s duties (in Leipzig) involved directing the orchestra of the Thomaskirche (and the Nikolaikirche, the often-forgotten 2nd church in town), which included tracking down players for special performances, composing new music, teach the students of the Thomasschule (he also provided music for the Paulinerkirche on occasion), and he was also director of the Collegium Musicum (remember that) at Cafe Zimmermann. He also consulted and traveled, and presumably found time to teach his own sons. 

Herr Hindemith composed (prolifically), played violin and viola in orchestras and string quartets, organized for the Donaueschingen Festival (click here to view all the programs of the Festival, dating to 1921), taught at the Berliner Hochschule and later at Yale, traveled to reorganize music ed for the Turks, toured as soloist, recorded, conducted, wrote and codified his ideas for music theory, led the Collegium Musicum (told ya!) at Yale, etc. Indeed Hindemith's erudition and interests dwarf that of his contemporaries.

Cornetto? How many damn instruments did he play? 

To some extent this has always been the life of a musician. However, due to the fracturing of our field through the twentieth century, and increasing specialization, this is not necessarily the case today. 

My older professors tell me that the 'most important' twentieth century composers used to be: Stravinsky, Schoenberg, Bartok, and Hindemith. Probably due to the popularity of later composers, Hindemith’s star has faded. 

Hindemith and some crazy-atonal(ish)-Russian-type composer. Stravinsky has never looked hipper, btw.

I love when one of Hindemith’s lesser-known works shows up on concert programs. In addition, it’s stimulating to learn about Hindemith’s hidden life. Some of the highlights include:

• His performing with the Amar Quartet. Founded in 1921 in response to Hindemith’s need for an ensemble to premiere his Third Quartet, they made some influential recordings of works by Beethoven and Bartok (including the premiere recording of Bartok’s Second Quartet). Paul also included his brother, Rudolf as cellist. 

Amar Quartet

• Speaking of Rudolf, we should all watch closely to see how Rudolf Hindemith’s life and music are rediscovered in the future. According to German wiki, in order to get out from under the shadow of his more famous brother (shades of Cain and Abel) he tended more towards wind music and jazz. There are a few recordings of his works listed on Amazon. Another in a long line of composers who faded during the mid-twentieth century. 
• Hindemith’s late works: the Harmonie der Welt Symphonie, Organ Concerto, Mass, Octet. These specifically deserve to be rehabilitated. 
• Hindemith’s avant-garde(ish) works. The Ragtime of 1921, the Viola Sonata op. 25 no. 1, some of his existing early film scores, and his works for Trautonium (Hindemith’s student, Harald Genzmer, also wrote for this early electronic instrument. The bird noises in Hitchcock’s The Birds were made by Oskar Sala and his trautonium). 

Hindemith’s music certainly suffers from ‘good craftsmanship’ at times, although I admire greatly the craft of composition. His sonata cycle (for all the common orchestral instruments, and some of the uncommon ones) can be stodgy and mundane at times, but there are also some great hidden gems: the Tuba sonata stands out, and most of his works for the string instruments deserve to be heard more often. 

I would love to move past the Hindemith of the Symphonic Metamorphosis and Mathis der Maler Symphony, and embrace the Hindemith of Der Schwanendreher, Pittsburg Symphony, Four Temperaments, and Concerto for Orchestra. 

N.B. All photos are from the invaluable headquarters of Paul Hindemith on the interwebs: www.hindemith.info. 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.

The Continuing Influence of the Natural Trumpet

Most brass histories focus on the revolutionaries, the trailblazers, the composers who first utilized new instruments and helped thus to introduce them into the orchestra. Thus, brass histories focus on composers like Hector Berlioz and his use of the cornet. French opera composers were the first to introduce the valved trumpet into the opera orchestra. Schumann and Wagner first introduced the valved trumpet into the German orchestra, and to modern trumpeters (looking back with our own observer biases) Mahler is the Great Emancipator, taking the lowly, unappreciated valve trumpet (in Bb), and giving it a voice in the orchestra with solos, great bombastic tutti passages, and delicate moments of pathos. 

The new Stomvi "Mahler" Titanium C Trumpet. You can only play Mahler on it.

However...

The natural trumpet did not die in the 1820s. It was not extinct in the 1850s, when Richard Wagner began writing the Ring cycle. When Joachim Raff wrote his symphonies during the nineteenth century, he wrote including the valved trumpet, but still wrote in the common ‘classical style’ where trumpets only play tonic and dominant, or scale degrees 1 and 5. When Bedřich Smetana wrote his 6-part suite Má Vlast in the 1870s and constantly changed the key of the trumpet parts, he was mimicking the natural trumpet parts of Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert. Here are several of my favorite examples of the continuing influence of the natural trumpet. 

• 1850: Friedrich Sachse (Hanover) performs his own concerto for “simple trumpet” at the Leipzig Gewandhaus. Sachse was the brother of Ernst Sachse, composer of the 100 Etudes still used by trumpeters to practice transposition. Berlioz mentioned both brothers in his Memoirs, during his travels in Germany. The fact that two of the more famous German trumpeters are famous for their valve trumpet and natural trumpet playing, is testament to the staying power of the valveless trumpet. 

• 1857: François Dauverné publishes his Méthode in Paris. Roughly 2/3 of the book is exercises for the natural, valveless trumpet. Only the latter third is exercises for the slide and (low-pitched) valve trumpet. Even though Dauverné is responsible for playing some of the earliest valve trumpet parts at the Paris Opéra, you can almost hear him saying, “yes, the valve trumpet is an important creation and should be studied, but the main principles of trumpet playing are learned on the natural trumpet.”

Dauverné's Slide Trumpet

• The so-called Leipzig “conservatives”: Schumann, Mendelssohn (although he died in 1847, he could be considered the spiritual leader of this group), Niels Gade (under appreciated), Joachim, Brahms. Although perhaps it’s unfair to consider all of these composers together in the strictest terms, it’s true they used the valve trumpet as if it were 7 natural trumpets collected together (in other words, use the valves to transpose the instrument, but continue to only use the notes of the harmonic series). In Brahms’ case (who died ten years before Joseph Joachim) he continued to write for the trumpet in this manner into the 1890s. Compare Brahms’ trumpet writing in his 4th Symphony (1885) against the writing in Bruckner’s 7th (1884), against César Franck’s Symphony in D Minor, Tchaikovsky’s 5th, Mahler’s 1st, Strauss’ Don Juan (all completed in 1888). These composers were very comfortable with the natural trumpet idiom and didn’t want to change their styles to fit the trend.

• Wagner used natural trumpets in a variety of keys, mostly playing fanfares onstage and behind the scenes. 

• 1881: Saint Saëns writes his Septour which calls for valve trumpet (in low E-flat), but still contains many fanfares and calls, evoking the trumpet’s former task as a military instrument. 

• 1886 & 1911: Dates of Vincent D’Indy’s Suite in an Olden Style and Rondino, both written in the style of the natural trumpet. 

• 1889: The premiere of Mahler’s First Symphony (then called a symphonic poem, Titan) in Budapest. The offstage trumpet calls heard at the beginning of the first movement (5th bar of Rehearsal 1, at Rehearsal 2, and at Rehearsal 3) lie completely within the harmonic series and could be performed on natural trumpets. I believe Mahler did this on purpose, as he uses the trumpet for militaristic fanfares regularly in his symphonies. 

• 1922: Ralph Vaughan Williams finishes his Pastoral Symphony (No. 3). There is a cadenza in the second movement for natural trumpet (bugle) in Eb, the music of which is based upon Vaughan Williams’ recollection of hearing a military bugler practicing octaves and not quite hitting the mark (and playing 7ths instead). Many trumpeters simply play the solo on the valved instrument nowadays, but RVW did say he wanted to hear natural trumpet for the slightly-out-of-tune 7th harmonic. 

• 1959: Britten writes his Fanfare for St. Edmundsbury for three trumpets, each of which cleverly only plays notes in the harmonic series (but the parts themselves would need to be played on three differently pitched natural trumpets: F, C, and D). This idea is directly in the same vein.

So the natural trumpet did not die out overnight. It could be considered to have died a slow death, during which the valved trumpet was born and rose to prominence. Musicians tend to be very conservative in regards to their tastes, trends, and styles. I wonder where music will be in another hundred years. 

I guess that’s why the early music movement is such an interesting study. Instead of composers writing new music and instruments becoming more complex, they reverted to their older, earlier, simpler incarnations. 

We are living in the present but, especially in the arts, the present is cumulative, the result of the addition of all the previous eras until the modern day. 

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 II: Johann Georg Albrechtsberger

What is your favorite concerto for the Jew’s harp?

This question might seem strange, but Johann Albrechtsberger did write concertos for Jew’s harp*and orchestra, two of which are recorded by Fritz Mayr and the Chamber Orchestra of Munich. It is thought that he wrote many more, but only three survive in manuscript. 

Johann Georg Albrechtsberger lived from 1736 to 1809, a time essentially spanning the Classical era, as is currently defined. Albrechtsberger wrote also a treatise on composition with an emphasis on counterpoint, written at a time when that technique was probably seen as old hat. His teaching on counterpoint is enormously important in the modern day, and is held in regard as one of that last Baroque era studies on the technique. However, his performance and recording “footprint” in the modern day is sadly, very small (mosty relegated to a few important concertos for various instruments and some sacred music), which is why I mention him today. Beethoven studied with Albrechtsberger from shortly after his arrival in Vienna in 1792 until 1795, and most scholars point to Albrechtsberger as the biggest influence on Beethoven's compositional skills during his youth. 

The decision to write for the Jew’s harp is an interesting one, and interestingly, associates Albrechtsberger with peasant or folk music of his time. In light of this idea there is a larger point to be made, and I will try to put it as delicately as I can. 

One of the things I love about music is the idea of spanning genres. It sounds like a B.S. marketing term nowadays, but there are times when it is done superbly well. Plenty of rock/pop musicians have backgrounds in jazz or classical music, plenty of classical musicians take inspiration from folk music, and there are excellent collaborations from all sorts of genres across the spectrum happening all the time. So my question is: 

Why do We continue to claim precedence for the quality of classical music, as though it is better (emotionally, morally, aesthetically), when it seems as though it is simply another incarnation of Music?

Or put another way:

If Albrechtsberger decided that he wasn’t “above” writing for folk instruments, if Haydn did mind including folk-ish material in his symphonies, if Ibert didn’t think he was above writing music that sounds like it belongs in the circus (his Divertissment), and if Mozart didn’t think Singspiel was beneath him, why do we think EVERY piece in the classical canon deserves an atmosphere of religious devotion and emotional reservation? If these composers didn’t think they were debasing themselves, why do we?

Surely there are pieces and moments which are complex and deserve silent attention, just as there are pieces that are goofy and full of wit and humor, which probably deserve a more relaxed atmosphere. Maybe we don’t play those pieces enough, and maybe the gatekeepers simply do not like the frivolity of the humorous when applied to classical music. But it is out there if you know where to look. As for me, give me profound, give me frivolous, just give me a good show. And while you’re at it, put a piece for Jew’s harp in your program. 

*Jew's harp is of course, not the original name for this instrument, as it has very little or nothing to do with the Jewish people. It goes by many names in the different cultures in which it is used.

** Thankfully, there are some ensembles willing to tackle the lesser-known works of Albrechtsberger. One disc I'll recommend is the Authentic Quartet's 2007 recording of three of the composers' string quartets. There are still plenty of quartets from his catalog yet to be recorded, here's hoping we will hear more in the future.  

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.

Shostakovich and a Man With a Movie Camera

Recently I watched Dziga Vertov's Man with a Movie Camera (1929) on Netflix. If you have the service, I highly suggest you watch this film, as I perceived it to intersect with the works of several contemporaneous much beloved (now, at least) Soviet composers, through a loose affiliation with socialist realism.  

Vertov's movie is often discussed in relation to early Soviet avant-garde art, in addition to the loose aesthetic of socialist realism. Much of the work of this time period throughout the arts (the late 1920's and 30's, at least until Zhdanov proclaimed realism as the official style of Soviet culture) embraced the avant-garde wings of modern art, and this included composers (mostly under the aegis of the Association for Contemporary Music).  

(Gavriil Popov, one of the now-forgotten members of the ACM)

Among these composers was a young Dmitri Shostakovich (22 at the time of Vertov's movie), himself not so much an avant-gard-ist, but nonetheless young, progressive, and seemingly a committed loyalist a his young age. Shostakovich also wrote more 'realist' works in his youth, typified by several works from the late 1920's and early 1930's including the ballets The Golden Age (1930) and The Bolt (1931), the film scores to The New Babylon (1929) and Alone (1931), the opera The Nose (1928), and his Second (1927) and Third Symphonies (1929). Several of these scores contain elements of a more avant-garde nature, such as the inclusion of the theremin and throat-singer (the score to Alone), as well as orchestral instruments mimicking the sounds of machinery (Alone and The Bolt), and even elements of absurdism and polystylism  (The Nose). None of these works were well-received in their time, even if did toe the party line (which probably led to Shostakovich abandoning the more avant-garde tricks of the day), although most of them are worthy of rediscovery. 

These more avant-garde works connects DSCH to several other composers writing works loosely defined under the banner of futurism. Works which may also contain odd or new instruments, polystylism, the music of machines, and powerful uses of dissonance. 

You may recognize the name of Luigi Russolo as the de facto head of the futurists, although several composers, even some more mainstream writers, contributed to this branch of the musical avant-garde:

Alexander Mosolov (esp. his work Iron Foundry, 1927)

Arthur Honegger (in his famous Pacific 231, 1923)

Edgard Varèse (Amériques, 1926; Ionisation, 1931)

George Antheil (Ballet Méchanique, 1924)

What makes these works the more noteworthy is that they were written between eight years of each other. 

So from Dziga Vertov to Varèse and back to Shostakovich, futurism, the music of machines, and socialist realism were highly influential to composers during the 1920's and 30's, even of that great writer of traditional symphonies and chamber music, Dmitri Shostakovich. Man with a Movie Camera shows how these currents affected one highly original filmmaker, and there are many more examples of futurists and realists in the realm of the visual and the performing arts, of course. I was simply drawn to Vertov's film because of its inclusion on Netflix. And there are many more connections to be made between composers and other artists and movements during the time period, but for now, after seeing this movie, I will not listen to Shostakovich in quite the same way ever again. 

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