1) Since posting my Addenda to the Civic Orchestra of Chicago Concert (below), the renowned Russian conductor and arranger Rudolf Barshai has passed away. Mr. Barshai was one of many to arrange Shostakovich’s 8th string quartet for string orchestra, but his was the only one to receive Shostakovich’s express approval.
2) The critics (the goodones at least) found out what I’ve known since the tender age of 19: that “A Quiet Place” just isn’t Lenny’s finest work. In fact, it’s not really even very good. OK, let’s admit it: it’s a klunker. And the really unfortunate thing is that when he interpolated his earlier opera, “Trouble in Tahiti”, into the flow of the later work, it just served to emphasize the genius of 40’s and 50’s Lenny and the unfortunate turn that 80’s Lenny had taken.
[Ed: the above picture is not in any way meant to illustrate an “unfortunate turn”. Quite to the contrary, it’s actually a portrait of perfection. Which will work against the ensuing argument, but it’s still a great picture.]
But I actually find something very inspirational in “A Quiet Place”, because it makes Lenny more human. As Stephen Sondheim says, the main thing he learned from Lenny is that if you’re going to fall off the ladder, fall off the highest rung. And it turns out that Lenny wasn’t perfect! He fell hard. Although I think he would have made a great fireman. [That’s a reference to the aforementioned “ladders”. And just a general comment.]
3) Speaking of Maestro Sondheim, I put my entire life on hold for 2 1/2 days so I could read his new book of collected lyrics, Finishing the Hat. It’s every bit as brilliant as you’d expect it to be, and also more. It is a vivid insight into the mind of a genius. It makes you feel like you’re sitting right next to Mr. Sondheim himself and he’s explaining to you everything you ever wanted to know. Since the lyrics in this volume only run through 1981, it also leaves you begging for more.
Which brings me to a particular post-1981 Sondheim lyric, and a particularly cheeky end to this blog post. I’d like to share with you something that recently dawned on me. Actually, I’ll challenge you to find it for yourself. See if you can you discover the hidden libertarian message in this song:
Here’s a clue:
Although I have a feeling that these two pieces reach slightly different conclusions…
Well, it’s happened again – preparing for a talk at Symphony Center, I’ve come across way too much material for my allotted 30 minutes. Here are extra insights on the October 31, 2010 concert of the Civic Orchestra of Chicago. To the various concert attendees who found their way here after hearing my talk – Welcome! Do feel free to peruse the rest of my web site, always being aware that it does not in any way represent the Chicago Symphony or Civic Orchestras.
Shostakovich, Chamber Symphony(1960)
(String Quartet No. 8 arranged by Rudolf Barshai for String Orchestra)
The Chamber Symphony of Dmitri Shostakovich began life as his 8th String Quartet – the version that we hear in concert by string orchestras is simply an arrangement by the Russian conductor Rudolf Barshai. More than any other Shostakovich Quartet, the Eighth seems particularly suited for this kind of expanded treatment.
Shostakovich’s eighth quartet is a sort of mix tape of previous compositions, woven together with his “signature motto”, the notes DSCH as in Dmitri Schostakovitch (This actually requires a lot of explanation, and it requires us to pretend we’re German musicians for a moment: the German note name system calls our E-flat “Es” – hence the use of the letter “S” in this motto; similarly, the Germans refer to our note “B” as “H” for some reason. Also, you’re going to have to go German in the spelling of Dmitri’s last name, since American’s tend to prefer the spelling Shostakovich with no “c”.)
Here is the opening of the Quartet, with that exact motive in the cello part:
This is the theme that will connect the vast array of quotations from Shostakovich’s earlier works. Here they all are, in order:
1.) First Symphony (1926)
The original, a playfully sardonic duet for trumpet and bassoon:
In the quartet the music is slowed down, sounding old and weary:
2.) Fifth Symphony (1937)
The tune, deep in the horns, bold and Wagnerian:
In the quartet appears in the first violin, timid and demure:
3) Second Piano Trio (1944)
Originally, Shostakovich gave this Jewish theme a delightfully eerie “oom-pah” rhythm, creating a soft, macabre folk dance:
In the second movement of the quartet, the same tune is presented in a diabolical frenzy:
4) First Cello Concerto (1959)
The only difference between the original:
and the quartet version:
is the instrumentation.
5) The Young Guard (1948)
There seems to be a lot of confusion in the literature about the next quotation. The quote itself is minuscule – a four-note motive from Shostakovich’s score for the 1948 film “The Young Guard”:
This motive itself comes from a revolutionary song which features prominently in the plot of the movie. In one of the film’s most powerful scenes, we see a group of young girls who have been imprisoned by the Nazis for their resistance during World War II (these are in fact the Young Guards of history). As they sing this anthem, they defy their captors and work up the courage to fight back; the young men in the next cell over join in:
When it appears in the quartet, the four-note motive is cut short by three violent bow strokes:
The internet being the mind-boggling thing that it is, you can actually watch the entire film on YouTube (in Russian and German, without subtitles):
This is the only quote in the piece that is not from one of Shostakovich’s own previous works. It is a revolutionary song, said to be Lenin’s favorite. There is a wonderful page that contextualizes this song in terms of Russian Revolutionary music here. There is a page devoted to this particular song in its many iterations here (in Russian). It goes a little something like this:
and it’s used in the quartet like this:
7) Katerina’s arioso from the fourth act of Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District:
which itself sounds a little bit like a mixture of Bernard Herrmann’s score for Vertigo:
and “Bess, You is my Woman Now” from Porgy & Bess:
and is used in the quartet like this:
Recommended Reading
David Fanning: Shostakovich String Quartet No. 8 (2004) – google books
Michael Mishra: A Shostakovich Companion (2008) – google books
Richard Taruskin: Defining Russia Musically: Historical and Hermeneutical Essays (1997) – google books
Recommended Recordings
For anyone who has even a moderate interest in the Shostakovich String Quartet repertoire, I would seriously recommend dropping 42 bucks at the Amazon mp3 store (50 bucks on iTunes) and buying the recordings of all 15 Shostakovich Quartets by the confusingly named “Beethoven” Quartet. These performers collaborated extensively with Shostakovich himself and gave the premieres of several of his quartets including the Eighth. You could also spend just 5 bucks and get the Eighth Quartet individually. Amazon, iTunes
For a more recent, fast, polished, full-throttled reading of this piece, I highly recommend the Emerson Quartet’s recording. Amazon, iTunes
As for recordings of the Rudolf Barshai-arranged “Chamber Symphony” version, it’s very difficult to find one in which both the orchestra and the conductor seem to be in the spirit of the piece: often, the technical demands of the string writing are too difficult for and entire orchestra to play together up to tempo, or the conductor indulges too much in Shostakovich’s ‘mood music’. One recording that I highly recommend is Vladimir Ashkenazy’s reading with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. iTunes
Tchaikovsky, Symphony No. 5 (1888)
OK, so I totally geeked out on the Shostakovich stuff, so just watch this and enjoy it:
I could hardly think of a finer pair of actresses to perform this classic of the American musical theater. This is one of my favorite Bernstein tunes of all time, and I think it was an inspired choice to include on your program.
Just a few hints:
1) Please do not tamper with the lower part. It’s not just your average harmony. It is quite specific and quite specifically brilliant:
In the space of just a few measures, it goes from shadowing the melody a sixth below (“Why-oh-why-oh-why-oh”) to moving in contrary motion (“why did I”), and goes up this amazing contrapuntal arpeggio (“ever leave O-“), setting up the most extraordinarily beautiful double appoggiatura (“hi-o”) [like, ever]. And the intricacies only compound from there.
It is this lower harmony – let’s just go ahead and call it the “tenor” part, since that’s really where it lies – that gives the song it’s wistful, melancholic charm.
2) It is a well established fact that you guys auto-tune the shit out of this show. Maybe these kids really can’t sing in tune and you’re just doing your job, so OK. But please, if you’re going to auto-tune this song, and you’re going to do it in the key of Db (hint, hint), please auto-tune it so that the low C in the “tenor” part sounds exactly as flat and manish sounding as Rosalind Russell’s in the above (on the syllable “e-” of “ever”). Thanks.
3) If you’re going to continue into the “chatter” section of the song (and I certainly hope that you will), I’ll completely understand if you have to re-write the dialogue to suit the particular needs of your plot. This is assuming that the episode in question will contain a plot, which I understand is no small assumption given the typical episode of GLEE. However, I would suggest that you keep the spunky little jazzed-up arrangement of the main tune in the background:
4) Other than that, just have a great time and let these two magnificent ladies do their thing! Oh and try to at least approximate the original orchestration with real instruments. ‘K Thanks!
My recent wanderings have come to an end (for now at least). I went to Berlin, then to DC, then to LA. In D.C. I saw the National Opera’s production of “Salome”, which was at a very high level musically, but dramatically vapid (see that previous link to my Berlin trip for more about that). In LA, I went to see the Philharmonic’s performance of Olivier Messiaen’s Turangalîla Symphonie with Dudamel at the helm.
This was, in many ways, a surprising program choice for the Dudz. In fact, going into the concert, I couldn’t help but thinking that the Turangalîla was much more an Esa-Pekka piece. Indeed, not but a day after the concert was I reading Listen to This and my suspicion was confirmed: Maestro Salonen first encountered the Messiaen score when he was a Finnish tot of ten years old. (Interestingly, I learned from a different chapter that Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood became similarly obsessed with this score at the age of 15.)
I’m guessing that the Salonen connection may have had something to do with Dudamel’s choosing this piece: during his tenure as Music Director in LA, Salonen assiduously incorporated modern masterworks of the Turangalîla variety into the orchestra’s repertoire. The audience there [which, by the way, was easily the youngest and most diverse audience I have ever seen at an orchestra concert] is, by all accounts, accustomed to hearing works of this magnitude and amplitude, so Dudamel has to show that he’s more than just flash. Which he definitely is, and his reading of this pieces was thorough and committed from start to finish. And it’s not like conducting Mahler symphonies is a piece of cake anyway.
But what in the world is this Turangalila? It’s some amazing music for one; and perhaps 30-40 minutes too long, for another. The symphony is presented in ten movements, with the main material cycling through the whole piece. As with many of Messiaen’s compositions, there’s an inherent mathematical logic to the way that these musical cells appear and reappear that is extremely interesting, but doesn’t make for the most satisfying listening experience when your butt’s planted in a seat for 90 minutes.
Listening to the symphony, I was immediately struck by one of the main themes which comes back about 30 or 40 times:
because it bears a striking resemblance to Bernard Herrmann’s score for Cape Fear:
which, of course, went through the transmogrifier several times to become Alf Clausen‘s much beloved theme music for Sideshow Bob on The Simpsons. If you’re not adverse to watching illegal Russian-dubbed versions of TV on the internet, you can see the Cape Feare episode (for which Mr. Clausen picked up an Emmy) below:
Oh, and the other funny thing about the Turangalîla is that it uses the wood block like like it’s going out of style, and it sounds like Messiaen outsourced the final movement to Aaron Copland:
[P.S. I promise you that the LA Phil sounded about 100 times better than the above recording.]
because your colleague at the New Yorker, Peter Schjeldahl may have come up with the best line ever from an artistic review:
Two main stories competed in the fifties to explain the significance of Abstract Expressionism. One was nationalist, asserting native values of freedom and energy, as if America herself made the works. The other, Greenberg’s, posited an inevitability of formal development in painting, through progressive styles that were ever more attuned to the medium’s material givens of flatness and pigmentation and ever more averse to any sort of reference or illusion. Both tales ran aground in the sixties, when the New York School’s big painting became the chassis for Warhol’s Marylins and Elvises, and its frank uses of paint informed the taciturn object-making of minimalism. Then those movements, too, disintegrated, and it’s pretty much been one damn thing after another ever since.
