Tag: classical

Josep Castanyer Alonso | Never Gonna GiFugue Up

“(Cellist) Josep Castanyer Alonso has been a member of the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra since 2019,” (from the Orchestra’s website). “… He has performed in several festivals and attended different academies, such as the Verbier Festival in Switzerland or the Accademia Chigiana in Siena, Italy, with mentors such as András Schiff, Lynn Harrell, Ferenc Rados, Gustav Rivinius, Wen-Sinn Yang or Gábor Takács-Nagy.

Performing regularly in different chamber music groups, Alonso has as well been a member of the Alinde Quartett. He is also frequently involved in other chamber music projects with colleagues, from the WDR Symphony Orchestra in Cologne, the Vienna Philharmonic, the Staatskapelle Dresden, and the vast German and European orchestral scene. He was a student of the RSPO Orchestra Academy and the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra, and he was the first student of this academy to become a member of the orchestra.”

From Alonso’s description of the video, which bearrs the subtitle A 4-voice fugue, but you got rickrolled: “… the contrapuntal throwback takes us to the ’80s with Rick Astley’s hit ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ — famous in its day and even more popular thanks to Internet meme culture and the “rick-rolling” frenzy of the early 2000s.  I’ve developed the irritatingly infectious short initial motive of the tune into a 4-voice fugue, showcasing the structure with motion graphics and light-hearted commentary …” The piece shifts from D major to F# minor from 0:57 – 1:33. Of Alonso’s wonderful piano technique (in addition to his stellar composition chops), our regular contributor JB added, “It’s kind of dumbfounding that piano is just a hobby for him.”

Maurice Ravel | Boléro

“Before he left for a triumphant tour of North America in January 1928, (French composer) Maurice Ravel had agreed to write a Spanish-flavoured ballet score for his friend, the Russian dancer and actress Ida Rubinstein … Ravel had long toyed with the idea of building a composition from a single theme which would grow simply through harmonic and instrumental ingenuity,” (ClassicFM). “Boléro’s famous theme came to him on holiday … He was about to go for a swim when he called a friend over to the piano and, playing the melody with one finger, asked: ‘Don’t you think that has an insistent quality? I’m going to try to repeat it a number of times without any development, gradually increasing the orchestra as best I can.’

… By Ravel’s standards, the piece was completed quickly, in five months – it had to be ready for Rubinstein to choreograph. ‘Once the idea of using only one theme was discovered,’ he asserted, ‘any conservatory student could have done as well.’ The relentless snare-drum underpins the whole of the 15-minute work as Ravel inexorably builds on the simple tune until, with a daring modulation from C major to E major, he finally releases the pent-up tension with a burst of fireworks.” In this live recording from the 2014 BBC Proms, those fireworks arrive at the 13:22 mark, although C major makes a boisteous return shortly thereafter to end the piece.

“Boléro was given its first performance at the Paris Opéra on November 20, 1928. The premiere was acclaimed by a shouting, stamping, cheering audience in the midst of which a woman was heard screaming: ‘Au fou, au fou!’ (‘The madman! The madman!’). When Ravel was told of this, he reportedly replied: ‘That lady … she understood.’ … Although Ravel considered Boléro one of his least important works, it has always been his most popular.”

Hector Berlioz | Les Troyens

“Unappreciated and misunderstood in his lifetime (1803-1869), today the French composer’s music is instantly recognizable – and for a variety of reasons,” (CurtainGoingUp). “First for their coloristic elements (i.e., an exceptionally high quotient of woodwind, brass, choral and percussive effects), along with their originality, ingenuity and character. His output of operas and large-scale concert works – from the trailblazing The Damnation of Faust and Benvenuto Cellini, to his choral-symphonic Roméo et Juliette and comedic Beatrice and Benedict, as well as the reverent L’Enfance du Christ (“The Childhood of Christ”) and the massive Requiem – have all enjoyed a modern resurgence, with a handful or so belatedly joining the standard repertory, a most welcome inclusion.”

The Berlioz opera Les Troyens (The Trojans) is a five-hour epic in five acts. The performance here, “Chasse Royale et Orage,” is merely an orchestral excerpt. “Written between 1856 to 1858 and revised up to 1863, Les Troyens was Berlioz’s largest and most ambitious work, and the summation of his entire artistic career,” (HBerlioz.com). “Its origins go back to his childhood and his reading of Virgil’s Aeneid under his father’s instruction, as he recalls in his memoirs. Thereafter Virgil was never far from his thoughts – citations from the Roman poet abound throughout his writings …”

After a harmonically restless journey throughout, perhaps the clearest modulations in this section of the work shift from a brass feature in Bb major (5:29) to a more string-centric G minor (5:49) before a big fortissimo leap into Eb major at 6:26.

Jean Sibelius | Symphony #5, third movement

“Sibelius is without doubt one of the Last Romantics. Along with his younger contemporary Rachmaninov, he kept faith with the common building blocks of music in the latter half of the 19th Century well into the 20th,” (Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment). “But both had a non-conformist streak and began to find ways to move away from the prevailing styles of their time …”

“Sibelius composed the first version of his Fifth Symphony late in 1914, introducing it on his fiftieth birthday, December 8, 1915 …” (bso.org). “He conducted a revised version of the symphony a year later … on December 14, 1916. Still dissatisfied with the work, he withdrew it for a second time, leading the premiere of the final version only on November 24, 1919 … When the horns take flight in the finale … it is the Romantic gesture par excellence. A soaring melody in the heroic key of E flat, a moment that profoundly stirs the listener, conjuring swans winging across imagined Nordic skies … amidst the romantic gestures and almost Mozartian figuration we can also see the emergence of a progressive approach to musical form that set the bar for the century ahead, the layered textures of Ligeti and the orchestral sonorities of the generations of Finnish composers who came after Sibelius.”

The Swedish Radio Orchestra’s performance featured here is conducted by fellow Finn Esa-Pekka Salonen, who is known as both a conductor and a composer. The movement begins in Eb major but pivots exquisitely to C major at 2:24.

Camille Saint-Saëns | ‘Cyprès et Lauriers,’ Op. 156, for Organ and Orchestra

“‘I compose music’, said Camille Saint-Saëns, ‘as a tree produces apples,'” (DeutscheGrammophon.com). “A child prodigy, virtuoso pianist and accomplished travel writer, the prolific French composer came to embody the spirit of Classicism in an era of high Romantic creativity … Saint-Saëns took pride in his family’s Normandy roots, but his father had moved to Paris before his birth and Camille was thoroughly Parisian in his upbringing and outlook.

… In 1871 he was the driving force behind the new Société Nationale de Musique, formed to promote instrumental music in the face both of German pre-eminence – this was the year after the Franco-Prussian War.” Regarding his most prominent piece, ‘Carnaval des Animaux’ (‘Carnival of the Animals’), “Saint-Saëns would only allow this satirical piece to be played in private in his lifetime, as he feared its light-hearted character would tarnish his reputation as a serious composer. All, that is, except for one movement: ‘The Swan’. Played by a solo cello and piano duet, the lyrical melody has a depth of feeling that is unusual for Saint-Saëns … Living on for half a century after he founded the Société Nationale, Saint-Saëns was able to witness the great flowering of French chamber music that took place during the period, led by his pupil (Gabriel) Fauré.”

From the video’s description: “‘Cyprès et Lauriers,’ Op. 156, for Organ and Orchestra was written … in 1919 to celebrate the Allied victory in World War I and dedicated to then President of France, Raymond Poincaré.” The gravity of The Great War was still reverberating throughout Europe at that time; the artistic community did its best to respond to the tremendous shock waves which the war set into motion. The piece’s chromaticism can at times obscure its modulation points (the first takes place at the 2:15 mark), but the video’s score format is useful for keeping track, via changing key signatures!

Franz Schubert | Der Musensohn, Op. 92/1, D. 764

“Although Franz Schubert died at the age of 31, he left behind a remarkably extensive oeuvre, including around 600 Lieder, sometimes composing as many as seven songs a day.” (Bachtrack) “Five of his Goethe settings … were written on 19th August 1815 alone! His mastery of giving each of his poets an unmistakable musical voice is unsurpassed, and so is the overwhelming number of his settings dealing with death and his longing for finding eternal peace, most famously reflected in his two song cycles Winterreise and Die schöne Müllerin. ‘My compositions spring from my sorrows. Those that give the world the greatest delight were born of my deepest griefs.’”

Der Musenson (The Muses’ Son), Schubert’s setting for a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, was written in 1822. The piece, written in a breakneck 6/8, has been published in various keys suitable for a full range of voices. This edition begins in Ab major and transitions to C major at 0:33, then alternates between the two keys throughout.

Robert Schumann | Widmung

“Marked by its technical bravura, Widmung (or Dedication in English) … is much more than a mere showpiece – containing probably the most passionate music writing and most heartfelt feelings,” (Interlude). “Written by Robert Schumann in 1840 (from a set of Lieder called Myrthen, Op.25), this piece was later arranged for piano solo by Franz Liszt. Myrthen was dedicated to Clara Wieck as a wedding gift, as he finally married Clara in September, despite the opposition from Clara’s father (who was also Robert’s piano teacher).

The work starts with a flowing sense of pulse, while the first phrase (‘Du meine Seele, du mein Herz’) already captures Schumann’s love for Clara and devotion to the relationship. Here, Schumann sincerely confesses to Clara, declaring how important she is to him. For him, Clara is his angel, his spiritual support, and his entire world. Nevertheless, there is still a sense of fear and insecurity in the music, due to separation and uncertainty about their future. This complex mixture of feelings, as a true and full-bodied representation of love, certainly strengthens the emotional power of the music.”

At the 0:35 mark, Ab major shifts dramatically down to E major via a common-tone modulation. Amy Broadbent is the soprano in this 2014 performance; Christopher Koelzer is the pianist.

Franz Liszt | Sonata in B minor

“Franz Liszt’s Sonata in B minor (1854) is arguably his finest composition and one of the greatest piano sonatas ever written,” (PianoStreet). “Many place it alongside Schumann’s Fantasy Op. 17 as “the two 19th-century masterpieces” of the piano literature.

Although Liszt performed it for his enthusiastic disciples in Weimar, the work failed to impress Brahms or Clara Schumann. Robert Schumann, to whom it was dedicated, was already incarcerated in the asylum in Endenich by the time of the Sonata´s arrival in his home in Düsseldorf. The Sonata drew an enthusiastic compliment from Richard Wagner … It has now been more than 150 years after the Sonata’s public premiere and no musicologist, music theorist or classical music fan can deny its influence, craft, and original power. The work also represents one of the most successful solutions of the problems of the sonata form to come out of the 19th century.”

The four movements of the Sonata are blurred together; between the first and second movements, a chord is sustained over the bar line, or the nominal demarcation between the movements, followed by a very unexpected chord progression. The transition to a surprising new key center is the result, starting around the 12:00 mark in the first video below. The second video, by Polychoron Productions, provides a detailed discussion of the modulation.

George Frideric Handel | Messiah (fail)

Now that the holidays are over, it’s perhaps the least distasteful time of the year to post this monumental gaffe by an organist accompanying Handel’s Messiah (1741). This error wouldn’t have been possible during Handel’s lifetime, when the “transposition” function on pipe organs was still a few hundred years in the future. It all adds up to a category of “unintentional modulation” — one which we hope won’t grow much over time!

“Performing under pressure is hard, and there’s no doubt that accompanying a full choir is stressful even for the most unflappable of musicians,” (ClassicFM). “But this is just… something else.

During a performance of Handel’s Messiah, at that crucial moment at the end of the ‘Hallelujah’ Chorus when the choir and organ come together in four glorious final chords, this organist completely loses it. It seems they accidentally pressed the ‘transpose’ function on their instrument, only-just-and-only-sort-of recovering it by adding an unexpected seventh at the end, before finally landing on the tonic chord. We can all agree the choir deserves a huge pat on the back for holding it together.” The video is only 0:44 long; in the interest of safety, make sure you’re sitting down by about the 0:20 mark.

Frédéric Chopin | Nocturne in G Major, Op. 37 #2

“Chopin composed 21 nocturnes, 18 of which were published during his lifetime,” (The Guardian). “They span almost his entire creative career – the earliest were written in the late 1820s, when the composer was still in his teens, the last in 1846, three years before his death. That period also coincided with massive advances in the technology of the piano itself; the instruments that Beethoven and Schubert wrote for – the kind that Chopin would have known in his youth – were very different in their tonal capabilities and power from those that he was able to play and compose on in the last decade of his life.

In some significant respects, Chopin’s development as a composer, and the steady refinement of his musical language, are inseparable from the increasing expressive power that the steady advancement in piano technology offered him through his career. Together with the mazurkas, the other miniature form that he made his own, the nocturnes provide a musical chronology of that development.”

“Chopin’s Nocturne in G (1839) is written like a barcarolle, a song of the Venetian gondoliers. In the left hand you’ll hear the gentle rocking motion of the boat,” (VermontPublic.org). “The music shifts and the key changes just like the scenery passing by. The boat comes to a rest and we hear a melody, like the gondolier singing a simple, repetitive song.”

After the piece begins in G major, at the 0:18 mark we’ve clearly launched into new harmonic territory, with many additional shifts throughout. However, the piece manages to come to its final resting point by returning to the key of G major.