classical

Frank Ticheli | Earth Song (Young New Yorkers Chorus)

American composer Frank Ticheli on his 2004 work, Earth Song: “‘ … the music … first appeared in a work called Sanctuary, for wind ensemble,'” (FredBock.com). “‘As I worked on that piece, I just kept thinking this music is just begging to be sung by a chorus. The music is so vocal in and of itself. It was also written during a time when we were sort of stuck in the Iraq War when everyone – regardless of what political side they were on – was tired of that war, and so Earth Song was written to be very pro-peace. I guess you could also say anti-war and anti-violence. It was a cry and a prayer for peace.

Earth Song means different things to different people. I know for me, it sprang out of an intense weariness of war and a wish for peace. The second half of the poem talks about music as a comforting force and a refuge. When I was bullied as a kid, music was my refuge. I often thought about bullies in relation to this piece as well, because that’s where violence starts. But music is a place where people can find acceptance and love – and it can often be their saving grace. And it’s not just choir that people can find that comfort – it’s band, it’s orchestra… it’s just people coming together to make music.'”

This 2025 performance by the Young New Yorkers Chorus was conducted by Justin Duckworth. Earth Song is built primarily in F major. But at 2:50, a soft-spoken but profound G major chord breaks the spell; a repeated E major chord then upends the tonality yet again as the piece draws to an end.

Many thanks to longtime contributor Mark B. for this beautiful piece — his fourth submission to MotD!

Sing, Be, Live, See.
This dark stormy hour,
The wind, it stirs.
The scorched earth
Cries out in vain:
O war and power,
You blind and blur,
The torn heart
Cries out in pain.
But music and singing
Have been my refuge,
And music and singing
Shall be my light.
A light of song
Shining Strong: Alleluia!
Through darkness, pain, and strife, I’ll
Sing, Be, Live, See…
Peace.

Gabriel Kahane | Limping Waltz

“Gabriel Kahane is a singer/songwriter, pianist, composer, and musical polymath equally at home in classical, theater, jazz, and adult pop settings,” (Qobuz). “He has written large-scale orchestral works, piano sonatas, string quartets, and song cycles as well as intimate singer/songwriter fare, and has collaborated with everyone from Elvis Costello and Rufus Wainwright to the Kronos Quartet and the Los Angeles Philharmonic. He first came to national attention in 2006 for his playful Craigslistlieder, which set personal ads to theatrical piano accompaniment (he would later take on celebrity tweets.)”

Kahane has gone on to work with artists such as Pekka Kuusisto, Andrew Bird, Chris Thile, his father pianist Jeffrey Kahane, Sufjan Stevens, Sam Amidon, Aiofe O’Donovan, and ensembles including the American Composers Orchestra, the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, Kansas City Symphony, Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, the string quartet Brooklyn Rider, and the Aspen Music Festival. He’s served as the Oregon Symphony’s Creative Chair.

According to the notes he includes with this Instagram post from earlier today, Kahane’s “Limping Waltz” has yet to be formally released. It begins with a verse with a subtly but constantly shifting harmonic backdrop. Instagram doesn’t provide timeslates, but the tune’s chorus, starting with the lyric “But hey kid,” and running through “listen, it’s urgent,” provides a comparatively peaceful respite in a straightforward B major before the unsettled verse returns.

NOTE: we’re getting reports that this post won’t play predictably. Very, odd. Please search on Instagram for Gabriel Kahane’s January 22 post. It makes us really appreciate the relative ease of working with Youtube. Our apologies!

Franz Liszt | Vallée d’Obermann

“Franz Liszt’s Vallée d’Obermann (‘Obermann’s Valley’) is a virtual tone poem for solo piano,” (The Listeners’ Club). The Hungarian composer “wrote this music in the 1830s at a time when he lived in Switzerland with the countess Marie d’Agoult, with whom he had eloped. The piece was later revised and published as part of the first of a collection of three suites titled Années de pèlerinage (‘Years of Pilgrimage’).

Vallée d’Obermann begins with a gloomy and desolate descending theme in the pianist’s left hand, accompanied by hollow triplets in the upper register. Chromaticism and wrenching dissonances evoke a sense of aimless wandering, exhaustion, and angst. These opening bars bring to mind Liszt’s description of Obermann as ‘the monochord of the relentless solitude of human pain.’ This initial motif forms the seed out which the entire piece develops, using the process of thematic transformation that we find throughout Liszt’s orchestral tone poems. Through this metamorphosis, Vallée d’Obermann briefly transcends the darkness of E minor and floats into the celestial sunshine of C major. In its final moments, the music surges upward to an exhilarating climax.”

“In a letter Liszt once confessed that, ‘My piano is the repository of all that stirred my nature in the impassioned days of my youth. I confided to it all my desires, my dreams, my sorrows. Its strings vibrated to my emotions, and its keys obeyed my every caprice.’” (Classic FM).

The transition from E minor (and transient departures from that key) to C major falls at the 4:48 point. The lighter mood is further accentuated at that point by a noticeably higher range and softer dynamic — for awhile, at least!

Ludwig van Beethoven | Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 61

“Ideas for the Violin Concerto (1806) can be found in the same notebook that Ludwig van Beethoven was using for the Fifth Symphony,” (Nashville Symphony). “While the latter required several years to be hammered into being, he produced the concerto in a matter of months, in 1806. But Beethoven did keep his soloist, a friend named Franz Joseph Clement who had been a former prodigy, waiting until the very last minute; he completed the score barely in time for the premiere two days before Christmas.

Beethoven had written his piano concertos up to this time for himself as soloist, but here he tailored this piece to the musical personality of Clement, who was acclaimed for the delicacy and tender refinement of his style—aspects that Beethoven highlights throughout the piece. But for all the celebrity of the soloist, the work did not catch on right away. While not as outwardly radical as the Eroica, the Violin Concerto was path-breaking in its own way and may have disappointed concertgoers expecting a mere display piece. There are few documented performances over the next three decades or so, and the Violin Concerto had to wait for such advocates as Joseph Joachim.”

After beginning in D major, the orchestra shifts with a sudden burst of increased volume (1:02) to D minor. Many more shifts occur throughout, but this one takes place before the violin soloist’s part even begins. This frequently-programmed piece is quickly recognizable — even from this introductory section alone.

Camille Saint-Saens | Africa (op. 89)

French composer “Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921) was left bereft at the death of his mother in December 1888, and the cold winter winds in Paris persuaded him that perhaps a warmer climate might better suit him,” (Interlude.hk). “Accordingly, he left Paris for Algiers where he stayed until May 1889 – walking, reading, listening, but not composing. Finally, in late 1889, he went first to Cadiz, Spain, and then to Las Palmas to take a winter holiday in the Canary Islands. There, he took a hotel room not in his well-known name but under the same of Charles Sannois, businessman, locked himself in his room, and started to work.

… The resulting work, Africa, Op. 89, was the result of the time he spent in Algeria and Egypt, and, at the final climax, uses the melody Salam al-Bey, then the Tunisian national anthem … In addition to this version for piano and orchestra, Saint-Saëns also created a solo piano version which is extremely difficult as both the originally challenging piano part and the orchestra parts are resolved in the solo pianist’s part.”

Sticking to the orchestral version: after beginning in G minor, the piece shifts to Eb major during an animated cadenza section in or around the 1:58 mark.

Levi Schechtmann | Asturias

“Levi Schechtmann, born in 1999, is a German pianist renowned for blending classical music with modern genres like hip-hop, creating a unique fusion that has captured a global audience,” (artist website). “He began piano lessons at age seven and has since developed a reputation as an innovative performer. Levi is active on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, where he has gained nearly 600.000 followers in total, showcasing his reinterpretations of classical pieces by composers such as Bach, Liszt, and Chopin, but also his own arrangements and improvisations.

Schechtmann’s approach involves merging classical styles with elements of modern genres like hip-hop and house, a combination that has earned him numerous accolades. He has won awards at prestigious competitions, including the Steinway Competition and Hamburg Instrumental Competition, and has performed at renowned venues like Elbphilharmonie and Laeiszhalle in Hamburg and Flagey in Belgium. His popularity is driven by his ability to bridge musical genres, making classical music accessible and appealing to younger audiences through a modern, rhythm-heavy style.”

“Asturias,” released in August 2025, is built in E minor overall. At 2:05 (after a dreamy contrasting section unmarked by the unrelenting energy of the majority of the piece) there’s a shift to the relative G major just before the ending. Anyone who guesses that Schechtman might be a studio creation should also check the live version (posted below).

Many thanks to our contributor Mark B. for this distinctive submission to MotD — his third!

@levi.sct
Let’s see who can count the notes 😜 🎶Levi.Sct – Asturias 🎶 – #viral #piano #classical #asturias #yeah
♬ Originalton – Levi 🪐

Clara Schumann | Piano Trio in G Minor, op. 17

“Thanks to her constant touring, which almost always included performances of her own music, Clara was probably a better-known composer than Robert when they married,” (LA Philharmonic). “The Four Polonaises of her Op. 1 (not her actual first compositions) had been published when she was 11 years old, to be followed by numerous other solo piano pieces and her Concerto.

After her marriage, Clara turned to larger forms, studying jointly with Robert through all of his enthusiasms. Their influences were mutual – composed in 1846, Clara’s Piano Trio in G minor, Op. 17, was a direct influence on Robert’s Piano Trio in D minor, Op. 63, written the following year. (Robert’s own G-minor Piano Trio would be composed in 1851.) After Robert wrote his trios, Clara lost confidence in hers, but Brahms was one of many others who also played the work.”

While the Trio’s first movement, Allegro Moderato, begins in G minor, one of several harmonic shifts begins early (1:18) as a change in emphasis to the relative Bb major takes root.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart | Piano Quartet #2 in E-flat Major, K. 493: I. Allegro

In 1786, early in the era of the pianoforte, “Mozart wrote his two piano quartets for an ensemble essentially as new as the piano,” (Earsense.org). “But for a few random and now obscure composers before him, Mozart became the first to claim a genre that would captivate composers from Mendelssohn and Schumann onwards … Mozart’s “piano” quartets are considered the first in the genre not because they are historically the first, but because they are the historically the first great ones.

When he wrote them, Mozart was at the zenith of his fame as a performing concert pianist as well as a confirmed master of chamber music. The quartets are superbly balanced chamber works with all the craft and intimacy that implies, but they are also magnificent showcases for piano — in essence, chamber concertos, a kinship emphasized by their three-movement designs.”

The first movement’s opening section is in Eb major, but by 1:40 we’ve clearly shifted to Bb major after several hints and feints. The movement eventually concludes in its original key as well, but not before some more delightful harmonic meanderings!

Charles-Valentin Alkan | Grande Sonate ‘Les Quatre Ages’, Op. 33 | No. 2 – 30 ans

Parisian pianist and composer Charles-Valentin Alkan “wrote his Grand Sonata ‘The Four Ages’ after he returned to performing in 1844 after a six-year hiatus.” (Musical Musings). “The work was published in 1847. Alkan lived in an apartment in Paris, the Square d’Orléans for about ten years and was a neighbor to Chopin. They became close friends, and he became acquainted with many other artists that lived in Paris at the time, including Franz Liszt.

The work is in four movements, with each one portraying the ages of a man. Alkan wrote a preface to the published work where he expressed his intentions with the titles and structure of the sonata:

The first piece is a scherzo, the second an allegro, the third and the fourth an andante and a largo, but each of them corresponds, in my case, to a particular moment of existence, to a particular disposition of the imagination. Why should I not point it out?”

The second movement corresponds to the age of 30; perhaps not surprisingly, it goes through several transformations and shifts along the way. Starting in D-sharp minor, it shifts to B major, G-sharp minor, and finally F-sharp major (quite a list of relatively rare keys!). We won’t timeslate the changes, because in order to fully experience this piece, your full attention will be required — and the video provides a full score! Make sure you’ve packed a lunch and have had some coffee first.

Francis Poulenc | Concerto in D Minor for Two Pianos and an Orchestra

French composer Francis Poulenc (1899–1963) “… described himself, saying ‘I was born in Paris on 7 January 1899 and I studied piano under Vines and composition mostly from books, because I was feared being influenced by a teacher. [He allowed himself only one lesson with Ravel!] I read a lot of music and greatly pondered musical aesthetics,” (IndianapolisSymphony.org). “My four favorite composers, my only masters, are Bach, Mozart, Satie and Stravinsky. I don’t like Beethoven at all. I loathe Wagner. In general I am very eclectic, but while acknowledging that influence is a necessary thing, I hate those artists who dwell in the wake of the masters. Now, a crucial point. I am not a cubist musician, even less a futurist, and of course, not an Impressionist. I am a musician without a label.’ (In Praise of Poulenc, Fred Flaxman, WFMT 2002)

Poulenc dedicated his Concerto for Two Pianos to Winnaretta Singer, Princesse Edmond de Polignac, who was the twentieth child of Isaac Singer, inventor of the Singer sewing machine. Although born in Yonkers, New York, she grew up in Paris, and eventually presided over an influential salon, some say the most important avant-garde music salon in Paris between the wars. Poulenc (and the other members of Les Six) was a frequent visitor: along with Faure, Stravinsky, de Falla, Satie, Widor, Nadia Boulanger, Milhaud, Debussy, and many more. It was the crème de la crème. The social and musical power and presence of her salon as well as extraordinary life are well told in Music’s Modern Muse by Sylvia Kahan … Regarding his presence in Les Six, Stewart Gordon in A History of Keyboard Literature noted ‘Poulenc was the most consistent in developing and sustaining a style of directness, simplicity, clarity, and the inclusion of influences from popular music … ‘ The composer completed the work in three months (in 1932).

The piece begins with a restless introductory section, making liberal use of accidentals instead of written key signatures (probably just to save ink in noting rapidly shifting tonalities as they whiz by). But at the 5:40 mark, the piece falls squarely into Bb major for a section fittingly marked très calme. More changes in key follow.