The “Viva Italia” Fantasy for piccolo on themes by Rossini and Verdi, by Marina Manafova, is performed here by the Mariinsky Theatre Symphony Orchestra; Kuelyar Ksenia is the soloist. The Orchestra has performed for 239 years and “is one of the oldest in Russia. Its history dates back to the first orchestra of the St Petersburg Imperial Opera Orchestra. Information on Manafova, a Russian composer, is nearly impossible to find, but this 2018 performance was the world premiere of the Fantasy.
Italian composers Giuseppe Verdi and Gioachino Rossini are often linked due to their shared focus on opera. WQXR’s blog illuminates the relationship between the two colleagues: “The two men met in Bologna in June 1842, and Verdi quickly admired his older colleague. Verdi was able to discuss with Rossini his many operas and it seems that he particularly came to learn a lot about L’Italiana in Algeri, Il Barbiere di Siviglia and what was known in Italian as Guglielmo Tell. He later said that ‘I cannot believe that there is another opera that has a greater abundance of musical ideas, comic verve and truthfulness of declamation than Il Barbiere di Siviglia, which must be the greatest comic opera there is. I admire Tell, but how many other sublime things there are in his other operas.’”
The piccolo soloist, Kuelyar Ksenia, was the winner of the All-Russia competition in 2000. She “is a regular (flute and piccolo) soloist with St. Petersburg Philharmonic orchestra …. participates in projects organized by Ensemle of Modern Music under Pro Arte Foundation … (and) gives master classes in Russia, Germany and Spain … ” She has worked as a teaching assistant “at the St. Petersburg Conservatory named after Rimsky-Korsakof.”
Ksenia’s mastery of the diminutive woodwind is evident at all times, but never moreso than when the highest arpeggio notes sail gracefully out into the crowd, strongly stated but sometimes somewhat quieter than the low notes. This excellent technique is no small feat for a flutist, but a near-miracle on piccolo! After starting in D major, 2:18 brings a transition to A major, followed by several other modulations throughout (the music begins at the 0:40 mark).
“Knife Edge” is featured on Telluric, the 2016 debut album of Australian singer/songwriter Matt Corby. The title, which translates to “of the earth,” informed Corby’s songs. “It’s the concept that runs through the record,” Corby said in an interview. “The idea that through nature and human activity we are all connected.”
Reviewing the album for Paste magazine, critic Saby Reyes-Kulkarni wrote “Corby, Hume and the band (whose contributions here cannot be overstated) have come up with a fresh, resplendent take on soul music. Spiked with muted touches of rock and other intangibles, Telluric establishes Corby as far more than a genre stylist and even stamps him as a visionary to watch right out of the gate.”
The track begins in D minor and shifts downwards to B minor in the third verse at 2:44.
“The past year has had its ups and downs. I had the incredible opportunity to do concerts in exciting places like London and Australia, but I also learned how lonely life on the road can be — and how returning home is even lonelier when there’s nobody to return to.
Two years ago when I turned 30, my heart found itself in a place it wasn’t expecting to go. It was, for the first time, ready to start a family. In the song “Nothing More,” sung on What I Wanna Be When I Grow Up by the wonderful Christopher Sieber, I wrote about my yearning to leave more than a song behind as my legacy. I knew there was something major missing from my life, and I knew exactly what it was: a child.
After giving everything I had to a relationship that fell apart only a year later, the question became, How much more of myself did I really have left to give? When the relationship ended despite my best efforts, I felt numb to everything around me and completely exhausted. But more than that, I found that the one constant in my life, writing, was suddenly not happening. It was like I’d been put on pause. I couldn’t find words; I couldn’t hear melody. I felt trapped. Though I had so much to say, I couldn’t find the right words with which to say it. I’d sit at the piano and nothing matched the emotions I felt in that moment. They were just words and notes. Words and notes without any meaning to them.
Here I was at a crossroads; I wanted a family, yet the family that I’d been building with my partner was now nothing more then crumpled pieces of unusable lyrics filling up my floor. I was no longer in control of anything.
To understand me is to understand one important thing — I write about my life and all that comes with it. To say that my music and lyrics define me is an understatement. I put every element of myself into song. All of my secrets, inner turmoil, and celebrations are musicalized. It’s my therapy.
Day after day, I kept sitting down at the piano, hoping that some sort of genius idea would present itself. Then one day I started slowly writing again — When the life you had planned / Slowly slips through your hands / When it feels like you just slept through all the best years of your life / When the heart’s beyond repair / When you wake and no one’s there / When your home consists of only you / Is there anything worth holding on to?
That’s all I was able to write at the time. I couldn’t find other words to describe how completely trapped I felt or how losing the ability to explain it in song made me feel even lonelier.
I needed to take a break — to just step away from the piano and from everything around me. I took a vacation to Italy. No phone. No computer. Traveled for two weeks. Stayed in the nicest hotels. Got fat. Drank wine. Ate more gelato than I care to admit. And just breathed. In a relationship it’s easy to forget yourself. This was my chance to get to know me again.
When I returned I put all my energy into finishing the new album. As minutes turned into months we had 11 songs finished. But my coproducer and arranger of the album, Jesse Vargas, insisted that we add one more. I hadn’t sat at the piano since I returned from Italy, too afraid to find that I may still be in the same place I was before I left.
I sat down. Put my hands on the keys. I took a breath. I wrote. When you’re so far from home / When you’ve lost signs of hope / When you’re searching for salvation / But there’s none that you can find / When the words have disappeared / When the melody’s unclear / When there’s nothing left inside of you, is there anything worth holding on to? I sat for a minute … there was still something left to say. Cause I will still be holding on / To everything worth holding on to.
I finished — six months after I’d started it, but it was finally finished.
Jesse decided that if this song was going to be the one to complete the album, it had to be stripped down. On an album filled with lavish orchestrations and arrangements, he believed that it needed nothing more than its lyrics, its melody, the incomparable voice of Crystal Monee Hall, and a piano.
The day I released the album I sat on my couch, studying the cover. I took out my two previous albums, Dreaming Wide Awake and Keys, and put all three of them on my dining room table. Taking a close look I realized that for now these are my children. And I couldn’t be more proud of them. For the first time in over a year, my heart felt full again.
An hour later I started planning the next birth.”
Performed here by Matt Bloyd and Chrissy Metz, the song begins in C, modulates up to Eb for Metz’s entrance on the second verse at 2:04, and lands in F at 4:05.
Acoustic trio Nickel Creek‘s first self-released recordings appeared in the 1990s; its platinum-selling eponymous major label debut was in 2000. 2014’s A Dotted Line appeared after a break of nearly a decade. “There’s a fluid confidence that takes (Nickel Creek’s) precocious virtuosity into a musicianship that is as supple as it is kinetic,” (Paste). “…the progressive bluegrass they embraced as teenagers is a mere starting point—integrating the places the trio explored during the seven years since they released a studio project.
(Mandolinist/vocalist) Chris Thile emerges as perhaps the unrepentant romantic. ‘Love of Mine,’ with his voice tenderly tentative, weightlessly caresses what might be (then later might not). The see-saw of emotions is so well-reflected in how the instruments tangle, merge and fall out—paralleling what’s being sung … Not merely a product of maturity, Nickel Creek has grown without losing its palpable joy or wondrous ability to make musicianship as accessible as the engaging way their voices draw listeners to them.”
After a start in F# minor, a brief foray into F minor appears at 0:44 before reverting to the original key at 0:51. The two keys then proceed to quarrel it out to a draw, the intensity of the upward key changes only magnified by the common melody note on either side of the modulation.
A submission from Paul “Steck” S., one of our regulars:
“Rumer is the stage name of Sarah Joyce, a Pakistan-born British singer-songwriter who has been very popular in the UK, but less well-known in the US. Her contralto voice is sometimes redolent of Karen Carpenter; indeed, Richard Carpenter wrote her to praise her first album, Seasons of My Soul, released in 2010. She’s released several albums since then, one as recently as 2020.
Rumer has been extensively involved with the music of Burt Bacharach. In 2010, she released a Christmas EP with a Bacharach song; in 2012, she performed at the White House as part of the tribute to Bacharach and Hal David; and in 2016, she released an entire album of Bacharach/David songs.
The tune here, “Aretha,” is taken from the first album; yes, it’s Aretha Franklin that she’s singing about. It’s a tale of a schoolgirl, attending a school where the kids are mean, while coping with a mentally ill mother. Listening to Aretha on her headphones is a refuge. It was written by Rumer and producer Steve Brown.
The song is a soul ballad in the key of B♭, mostly in 4/4 time (with a 12/8 feel), with measures of 2/4 and 3/4 in the verse. The bridge at 1:56 features the singer lightly harmonizing with herself. At 2:30, there’s a modulation to C for the final verse.”
Mrs. Green Apple is a Japanese rock band, based in Tokyo. In 2016 they released their first full record, Twelve, on the Japanese label EMI records; they have also written music for popular anime series.
“Love Me, Love You” was the sixth single released by the group, and peaked at #19 on the Oricon chart in 2018. The tune modulates from F up to Ab at 3:36.
*This is the fourth installment of our weeklong series on “Do You Hear What I Hear”
The cast of the TV show Glee released their second Christmas soundtrack album, Glee: The Music, The Christmas Album Volume 2, in 2011, featuring ten covers and two original songs. Alex Newell and Lindsay Pearce are the featured vocalists on “Do You Hear What I Hear,” which modulates from C up to D at 1:58.
*This is the third installment of our weeklong series on “Do You Hear What I Hear”
Country singer Jennifer Nettles released her first Christmas album, To Celebrate Christmas, in 2016. Her arrangement of “Do You Hear What I Hear” is the sixth track on the record, and modulates from C to D at 2:31.
*This is the second installment of our weeklong series on “Do You Hear What I Hear”
The a cappella group Pentatonix took Whitney Houston’s 1987 recording of the holiday standard and dubbed in her vocals to their arrangement, which was included on their 2019 holiday compilation album The Best of Pentatonix Christmas. Modulation from Ab up to A at 2:05.
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