I’m about to set out on a short trip par avion and I’m not sure how good the wireless is going to be where I’m staying so I might be offline for a few days. Following on from one of yesterday’s comments about the wonders of Mozart’s writing for more than one voice, I thought I’d leave you with the exquisite duettino Sull’aria from Le Nozze di Figaro. You’ll remember this from the Shawshank Redemption if you’ve ever seen the film, but here it is in a lovely performance from the Paris Opera Garnier in 1980. It’s three minutes of absolute joy.
Archive for the Music Category
Sull’aria
Posted in Opera with tags Gundula Janowitz, Le Nozze di Figaro, Lucia Popp, Mozart on June 1, 2010 by telescoperNow the Great Bear and Pleiades
Posted in Opera with tags BBC Radio 3, Benjamin Britten, John Vickers, Peter Grimes, Peter Pears on May 31, 2010 by telescoperThis Bank Holiday Monday I’ve been resolutely doing nothing at all, and very nice it’s been. I’m going to be similarly lazy about blogging today too, and just put up a piece of music. Some of you may know that BBC Radio 3 have recently been searching for the Nation’s Favourite Aria. Nominations are accepted by email to 3breakfast@bbc.co.uk but the closing date is tomorrow (1st June). A list of the ten most popular nominations will be published on 2nd June and listeners are then invited to vote on the one they like best.
They’ve been playing the nominations as they come in and, as you’d expect, there seems to be a strong tendency to Puccini and Verdi. Nothing wrong with that, of course. You can always rely on them for a great tune. If you have a favourite, why not send it in? I’ll just point out that it has to be a solo aria, no duos, trios, quartets or even choruses allowed! I’m interested to see the top ten is, but I’ll bet Nessun Dorma is in there.
Anyway, I’ve already emailed my suggestion in. I don’t know whether it will make the final list but I think it provides one of the greatest passages in one of the greatest of all operas, Peter Grimes by Benjamin Britten. Most people I know who have seen Peter Grimes think it is a masterpiece, and I’m interested to see another physics blog has already discussed this aria. Still, I don’t think Britten is sufficiently appreciated even in the land of his birth. There aren’t that many operas written in English so perhaps we feel a little uncomfortable when we can actually understand what’s going on without reading the surtitles?
I’ve often heard Peter Grimes described as one of the great operas written in English. Well, as far as I’m concerned you can drop “written in English” from that sentence and it’s still true. It’s certainly in my mind fit to put up alongside anything by Verdi, Puccini, Wagner and even Mozart.
In this aria it’s not just the extraordinary vocal line, beginning way up among the “head notes” beyond a tenor’s usual range, that makes it such a powerful piece of music, but also the tragic poetry in the words. The main character of Peter Grimes is neither hero nor villain, but a man trapped in his own destiny. It’s a tragedy in the truest sense of the word:
Now the great Bear and Pleiades
where earth moves
Are drawing up the clouds
of human grief
Breathing solemnity in the deep night.
Who can decipher
In storm or starlight
The written character
of a friendly fate
As the sky turns, the world for us to change?
But if the horoscope’s
bewildering
Like a flashing turmoil
of a shoal of herring,
Who can turn skies back and begin again?
The part of Peter Grimes was actually written by Britten specifically to suit the voice of his partner, Peter Pears, who performed the role first. The classic recording of that performance is wonderful, but I’ve picked a later version starring Jon Vickers which is different but also excellent. For its combination of musical expressiveness and dramatic intensity, this music really does take some beating even if you listen to it on its own outside the context of the opera.
Eurovision
Posted in Opera with tags Casta Diva, Eurovision, Maria Callas, Norma on May 29, 2010 by telescoperTonight’s the night of the dreadful Eurovision Song Contest, which I won’t be watching, but I thought I’d take the opportunity to post a reminder of the days when Eurovision was, at least occasionally, much classier. Here’s a live Eurovision broadcast from 1957, featuring Maria Callas. The aria is Casta Diva, from Norma by Vincenzo Bellini, a masterpiece of Italian Bel Canto opera. Gorgeous.
Lazy River
Posted in Jazz with tags Brian Torff, George Shearing, Hoagy Carmichael, Jazz on May 20, 2010 by telescoperI couldn’t resist putting up this jaunty duet version of the old Hoagy Carmichael song “Up a Lazy River”, which I first heard over 30 years ago, not only because the (British-born) pianist George Shearing plays so wonderfully on it (listen to his little foray into Harlem Stride around 3.00), but also because it gives me a chance to pay homage to the bass player Brian Torff. Just listen to his solo (starting around 1.55) and you’ll immediately understand why he’s revered amongst jazz musicians for his incredible technique and musical imagination and why so many other double bass players are completely terrified of him!
Over the Rainbows
Posted in Jazz with tags Art Pepper, BBC, Bud Powell, Keith Jarrett, Over the Rainbow, Wizard of Oz on May 3, 2010 by telescoperI had the misfortune a few weeks ago to see a bit of a terrible BBC TV show called Over the Rainbow, the main aim of which seems to be to use TV License payers’ money to provide free advertising for a forthcoming West End production of the Wizard of Oz. Anyway, when I was thinking yesterday about cover versions of tunes that turned out better than the original, the tune Over the Rainbow sprang to mind. Since I’ve been on holiday today – studiously avoiding doing very much at all – I thought I’d put up some interesting jazz versions of that particular song.
There are hardly any tunes ever written that some jazz musician somewhere hasn’t taken a fancy to and done their own original version, however unpromising the raw material. Louis Armstrong had a particularly amazing ability to turn base metal into solid gold, making glorious music out of tunes nobody else wanted to touch. I’ve picked three quite different versions of Over the Rainbow, all of which I think are brilliant despite the mawkish sentimentality of the original song.
The first is from a concert by Keith Jarrett in Tokyo in 1984. As well as being a brilliant jazz musician, Jarrett is an accomplished classical performer who, for example, made an exceptionally fine recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations a few years ago. Quite a few people seem to get put off by watching his antics at the keyboard. I can see why. I think he sometimes looks like the piano is playing him, rather than the other way around. But if his contortions bother you, just listen to the music, which is just gorgeous…
When I was still at school back in 1980 or 81 I had the good fortune to get to see the great alto saxophonist Art Pepper playing live with a band led by pianist Milcho Leviev. He played so beautifully on that concert that I became an immediate fan and tried to get hold of as many of his records as I could. I was devastated to hear just a couple of years later that he had died. Like many jazz musicians of his generation, Art Pepper had a serious drugs problem and he spent long periods in jail as a consequence. He joked that San Quentin Prison had better musicians than any establishment on Earth.
His tender, lyrical sound and graceful improvisations are beautifully represented on this track recorded with George Cables (piano) and – I think – Charlie Haden (bass) and Billy Higgins on drums.
The last one up is by the great Bud Powell. He was another musician who struggled with narcotics, but he also had serious mental illness to deal with – he suffered numerous breakdowns and was heavily medicated in an attempt treat his schizophrenia. Although he moved to Paris in 1959 to make a fresh start, his self-destructive tendencies caught up with him. The quality of his playing deteriorated, his behaviour became erratic and he eventually died in 1966. Before leaving the States, however, Powell had made a number of recordings in which he demostrated the virtuousity and musical imagination that established him as one of the greatest jazz pianists of all time, and certainly the leading stylist of the bebop era.
Bud Powell’s version of Over the Rainbow is one of my all-time favourite pieces of music. He puts so much variation into the way he plays it, alternating a lush romantic style with jagged boppy lines and dark undertones introducing a strong element of parody juxtaposed with a more orthodox treatment of the melody. As much as I love the other two versions, this is my a favourite. By any standards, it is a masterpiece.
Nobody’s fault but mine
Posted in Jazz, Uncategorized with tags Nina Simone on May 2, 2010 by telescoperIt being a rainy bank holiday weekend, I’ve been working, although I didn’t start until I’d done the Sunday crosswords and watched the football on the telly. Now it’s too late to post anything substantial, so I’ll resort to something from my back catalogue of bookmarked masterpieces from Youtube. This is a wonderful bluesy gospelly piece by the late great Nina Simone, a rare example in my opinion of a cover version being better than the original (in this case by Blind Willie Johnson).
Incidentally, I wonder if either of my regular readers can think of cover versions better than the original? Jeff Buckley’s intensely moving version of Leonard Cohen’s great song Hallelujah springs to mind, but I’d be interested to hear other suggestions…
Pierrot Lunaire
Posted in Music with tags Arnold Schonberg, Christina Schafer, Jazz, Kind of Blue, Miles Davis, Pierrot Lunaire on April 22, 2010 by telescoperI’ve had a lot of readers this week, largely down to Anton’s inflammatory guest post about mathematics. In order to return to my normal situation as an idle backwater of the blogosphere I thought I’d do a quick post about something that probably not many people will like (apart from me).
A few weeks ago I stumbled across a short clip on Youtube which intrigued me, so I sent off for the DVD it was taken from. It arrived last week and I’ve watched the whole thing three times since then. In short, I’m captivated. The film in question is a realisation of Arnold Schönberg’s extraordinary work Pierrot Lunaire.
It’s hard to know exactly what to call this. It’s basically a musical setting of a series of poems (by Albert Giraud, but translated into German) so you might be tempted to call it a song cycle. However, it’s not quite that because the words are not exactly sung, but performed in a half-singing half-spoken style called Sprechstimme. Moreover, they’re not really performed in the usual kind of recital, but in a semi-staged setting rather like a cabaret. It’s not really an opera, either, because there’s only one character and it doesn’t really have the element of music drama.
The whole thing only lasts about 40 minutes so the 21 individual pirces are quite short, and they’re arranged as three groups of seven with the narrator Pierrot dealing with different themes in each group. The work was written in 1912 and is his Opus 21, so it’s a relatively early example of Schönberg’s atonal music but before he turned towards full-blown serialism. Atonalism isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it can (and does in this case) allow a hugely varied orchestral landscape.
I’ve heard this work before, on the radio, and found it very intriguing but then I saw a youtube clip of the film version made in 1997 with Christine Schäfer as Pierrot. This is not a film of a concert or a recital, but an extraordinary visual response to the remarkable music and words. The director, Oliver Hermann, creates a grotesque dreamlike urban setting through which Pierrot wanders like a ghost, with emotions alternating between desperate alienation and amused reflection. I think music and film together create a wonderful work of art, which has gone right to the top of my list of favourite music DVDs.
Atonal music is very good for communicating a sense of disorientation and loneliness, course. The lack of tonal centre (or key) means that the listener is denied the usual points of harmonic reference. Hum doh-ray-me-fah-soh-la-ti and you’re drawn very powerfully back to the tonic doh. Deny this framework and the listener feels discomforted, but also, at least in my case, gripped.
Miles Davis’ classic album Kind of Blue – arguably the greatest jazz record of all time – was the first record I heard in which jazz musicians experimented with atonalism, and it has the same effect of most listeners, a spreading sense of melancholia and introspection. Perhaps not great for party music, but, in its own way, extremely beautiful.
Here’s the clip I saw on youtube that started me off on this. It’s the eighth item of Pierrot Lunaire (or, more accurately, the first of the second group of seven; Schönberg was quite obsessed with the number 7, apparently). It’s quite short, so hopefully won’t upset those who can’t stand atonal music for more than a few seconds, but it nicely exemplifies the extraordinary surreal imagery conjured up by the director as a response to the equally extraordinary music. Fantastic.
The Easy Winners
Posted in Football, Music with tags Championship, Newcastle United, Scott Joplin on April 19, 2010 by telescoperI’ve been a bit busy today so all I’ve got time to do is mark the news that by beating Plymouth Argyle, 2-0 away from home Newcastle United have won the Championship. In truth they only needed one point from their remaining three games to be sure of the title, but they passed the winning post in style with a comfortable victory that in fact condemns Plymouth to relegation. This may not mean very much to most readers of this blog, but I can assure you that being a Newcastle supporter is sometimes a thankless task and ‘m absolutely delighted to see the club return to the Premier League in such a surprisingly convincing way.
I was thinking of posting a little bit of music to celebrate, and this sprang to mind. It’s my favourite Scott Joplin rag and it’s called – appropriately enough – The Easy Winners. It was written in 1901 and the original sheet music is decorated with pictures of sporting events. It is also one of the few rags that the composer himself recorded as a piano roll, although I have my doubts as to whether this is actually that version..
Petite Fleur
Posted in Biographical, Jazz with tags Petite Fleur, Sidney Bechet on April 9, 2010 by telescoperSo the short Easter break draws to a close. I haven’t had much time off at all as I’ve been trying to catch up with some papers and other stuff. I was in the department over the weekend and on Monday and have only really had yesterday and today completely off. We’re back teaching on Monday.
However, things haven’t turned out too badly as we’ve got very nice weather right now and it’s set fair for the weekend. I’ve spent most of today in the garden and got quite a lot of preparation done, although my hands are now covered in scratches. It’s still quite warm approaching 7pm so I’ve decided to sit outside and have myself a cocktail before dinner.
I have a complete set of cocktail-making gear: measures, stirrers, shakers, and ice-crusher as well as the various tools needed for making the trimmings, such as a canulating knife. I also have a reasonably complete range of glasses appropriate for various drinks. My taste in cocktails is, however, fairly limited. Not being partial to Gin eliminates quite a few and I’d rather drink a good Malt on its own than have cocktails with cheaper whisky in them. However, I do have several books of cocktail recipes and, now and again, I pick recipes to try out.
My favourite pre-dinner cocktail, especially in summer, is called a Petite Fleur. It’s a great aperitif, with a refreshing sharpness to prime the palate. It’s also very easy to make:
1 Measure White Rum
1 Measure Triple Sec (or Cointreau)
1 Measure Grapefruit Juice (preferably fresh)
Shake the ingredients well together with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Decorate with a twist of orange peel.
Mentioning this cocktail also gives me the excuse to include the tune of the same name that was a big hit originally for the great Sidney Bechet (and then later on over here in the UK for Monty Sunshine, erstwhile clarinettist of Chris Barber’s band). Here’s the wonderful original version, with Bechet on soprano saxophone, which is the perfect accompaniment to a spot of self-indulgence. Enjoy!
You’ve Got To Give Me Some..
Posted in Jazz with tags Bessie Smith, Blues, Jazz, rude songs on April 2, 2010 by telescoperAnother quick break from writing gives me an excuse to post another favourite tune…
If you thought that raunchy lyrics were bound to be banned from records made 80 years ago, then just get a load of this.
It was recorded in 1928 by the greatest female blues singer of them all, Bessie Smith (“The Empress of the Blues”), together with Clarence Williams on piano and Eddie Lang on guitar. Bessie Smith was a notoriously loud and sometimes violent woman, who had an insatiable appetite for booze and sex (with, it’s said, both men and women). She also had a voice like no-one else on earth before or since.
This is one of several very naughty records she made in the late twenties, others including “Do your duty” and “Take me for a buggy ride” but this is probably the rudest of the lot. I like the video too. Enjoy!
Now, anyone for round steak?
In the Dark 
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