26 posts tagged “music”

I've written previously about my mild fixation with the piccolo, which started with a demonstration of the instrument in the third grade.

Last weekend at the symphony, we heard Beethoven's Ninth. Last night, we heard the Fifth. What really struck me hearing these back-to-back is how much Beethoven uses the piccolo in the last movement of each. The piccolo player really gets a workout!

My all-time favorite Beethoven piccolo is at the end of the Egmont Overture. Here is Leonard Bernstein conducting:

When I got home last night I did a web search on Beethoven and the piccolo. It turns out there is a popular misconception that Beethoven's Fifth is the first time the piccolo was used in a symphonic work. It's not true, but it's an interesting misconception, I'm sure born out of how prominent the piccolo is in the orchestration of the last movement.

Not surprisingly, a big crowd came for the symphony's performance of the Fifth. It was even a little fuller in the third tier.

I need to start doing a better job of tagging my posts. I could have sworn I posted previously about the Brahms second piano concerto. But I can't seem to find it. So forgive me if I'm repeating myself.

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This week the Seattle Symphony was doing "a week of Brahms." A bit of overstatement--but still two all-Brahms programs in a single week. Both featured Vladimir Feltsman as soloist. We went Friday night and last night.

The highlight of the program for me was Brahm's second piano concerto. Interestingly, it's four movements (like a symphony) rather than three movements typical of most concerti. It is stunningly beautiful piece, particularly the third movement Andante, which features solo cello.

Here is a short excerpt of the Andante:

This, of course, was played by our resident rock-star principal cellist Joshua Roman. It is a serious treat to hear him featured. We had seen him previously preform this concerto with Andre Watts, last February, when his performance was equally remarkable.

I know some long-time symphony goers grow weary of the more standard, popular repertoire, but personally I never tire of hearing Brahms in the symphony hall.

Update: Classical in Seattle has a review of both concerts here.

Last night, the Seattle Chamber Music Society's Summer Festival at Lakeside School wrapped up (the festival continues on the East Side at the Overlake School). We didn't attend any of the performances, but did listen to some of the live radio broadcasts.

The last piece in last night's program was an arrangement (by Stravinsky) of the Rite of Spring for four-hand piano. I wasn't quite sure what to think of it. Certainly, its percussiveness is suited to the piano, but I missed the orchestration, which gives the piece much more subtlety. Still, it was interesting and clearly a technical accomplishment for the performers. The crowd LOVED it.

I'll be spending my weekend, in part, with Stravinsky and Bernstein.

This evening, the ballet program is all-Stravinsky, Stravinsky 125.

Tomorrow night, we are going to a production of West Side Story.

The story is here. (Includes video clips.)

Only one person recognized him:

As it happens, exactly one person recognized Bell, and she didn't arrive until near the very end. For Stacy Furukawa, a demographer at the Commerce Department, there was no doubt. She doesn't know much about classical music, but she had been in the audience three weeks earlier, at Bell's free concert at the Library of Congress. And here he was, the international virtuoso, sawing away, begging for money. She had no idea what the heck was going on, but whatever it was, she wasn't about to miss it.

But one other person recognized that something special was happening:

Like all the passersby interviewed for this article, Picarello was stopped by a reporter after he left the building, and was asked for his phone number. Like everyone, he was told only that this was to be an article about commuting. When he was called later in the day, like everyone else, he was first asked if anything unusual had happened to him on his trip into work. Of the more than 40 people contacted, Picarello was the only one who immediately mentioned the violinist.

"There was a musician playing at the top of the escalator at L'Enfant Plaza."

Haven't you seen musicians there before?

"Not like this one."

What do you mean?

"This was a superb violinist. I've never heard anyone of that caliber. He was technically proficient, with very good phrasing. He had a good fiddle, too, with a big, lush sound. I walked a distance away, to hear him. I didn't want to be intrusive on his space."

Good fiddle, yeah. That would be a 1713 "golden era" Strad.

We attend a lot of music in Seattle, but I think my favorite is our subscription to the Tudor Choir. It's a group of about 14 singers doing choral works from the 15th and 16th centuries (along with the occasionally contemporary piece

that runs along a similar vein). In Seattle, they perform at the cavernous St. Mark's cathedral - its rough, unfinished interior is really the perfect setting for Renaissance polyphony.

And, appropriately enough, the Tudor Choir's director, Doug Fullington, is a kind of Renaissance man. Trained as an attorney, he is a noted dance historian whose day job is overseeing education programs at Pacific Northwest Ballet. He is also involved in dance restoration work. He has decided, however, that producing the Tudor Choir concert series is just stretching himself too thin and so while the group is not disbanding, it will no longer offer subscription concerts.

At the end of last night's concert, the last of the season, there was a huge, sustained standing ovation. We've been attending since 1998. Their subscription series I know will be hugely missed.

Growing up, there was a lot of classical music in my house--both my parents played instruments (my mom piano; my Dad classical guitar) and I studied piano and then classical guitar. But my introduction to symphonic music came from two main sources: Leonard Bernstein's Young People's Concerts (on public television) and at least one visit I can remember by Dr. Zipper (yes, that's really his name) to my elementary school.

I already knew who Dr. Zipper was because he was head of the Music Center of the North Shore, where I had taken  music lessons, beginning with Orff lessons, since I was 6. He came to my elementary school with an orchestra, which set up at one end of the gym; we all sat cross-legged on the floor in front of it. Being so close to an orchestra made a huge impression on me. It's still a crystal-clear memory.

Part of Dr. Zipper's program involved an introduction to each instrument, including everyone's favorite--the piccolo. I guess the piccolo is kid-friendly because it's so small and so high pitched--everyone thought it was kind of funny. At least in my class the fascination with with piccolo continued long after the concert, where it was dubbed (warning, third-grade humor ahead) the pick-a-nose. To this day I have retained a fascination with the piccolo.

My all time favorite piccolo finale is in Beethoven's Egmont Overture, which we heard Thursday night. If I had more time, I'd dig up an MP3 snippet of it. Anyway, it got me thinking about Dr. Zipper, so when I got home I googled him:

The extraordinary story of Vienna born musician and conductor Herbert Zipper who survived Dachau, Buchenwald, and a Japanese concentration camp to become one of the great music educators of the world, continuing at 92 to bring music to the inner city schools of America.

In Dachau, Zipper organized secret concerts using makeshift instruments. He learned the lesson that music and the arts are essential to the very existence of life. For the last half of the 20th century, Zipper has pioneered in bringing professional orchestras into America's inner city schools.

I had no idea.

It also turns out there is a 1995 Academy Award nominated documentary on his life. Which I've bought.

Thank you, Dr. Zipper.

I was happy to have recovered enough by Sunday to attend an afternoon chamber music concert in the Illsley Ball Nordstrom Recital Hall - my favorite small venue in the city.

The program included the Brahms Quintet for Piano and Strings in F Minor, otherwise known as "Condi's piece" since it seems we have a Secretary of State who can actually pull off the quintet's piano part. I am very impressed by this, even though I'm not much at all impressed with Condi otherwise.

But, rather than Condi, it was Christian Zacharias at the piano.

The performance as a whole was thrilling. Two new (and wonderful) young principle players from the symphony were in the Quintet, Elisa Barston (violin) and Joshua Roman (cello). Both have a wonderful, joyous presence on stage and in their playing. Mr. Roman in particular has been getting some press recently. He's only 23 and aside from his youth, he is, well, adorable.

But, looks and youth aside, his playing is a huge asset to the orchestra. Particularly memorable this season was his performance in the Brahms Second Piano Concerto (unusually a four rather than a three movement concerto). The third (Andante) movement is largely a dialog between piano and cello. Here's a little MP3 snippet of the movement.

He had everyone, including the music critic for the Seattle Times, spellbound with his playing here.

Joshua is doing a solo recital this Friday at Town Hall. I can't go, but Drake might. I hope he gets a good turnout for it.

We are currently listening our way through Bob Greenberg's The Symphony lecture series. I am already pretty familiar with the symphonic repertoire, so there isn't much that's earthshakeningly new -- but some nice tidbits and fresh perspectives on familiar works.

Today, we listened to the lecture on the symphonies of Schumann. Poor Robert Schumann -- he just breaks my heart. And poor Clara; their story as a couple is doubling heartbreaking. The fact that they both kept a marriage diary means there is a lot of detail available about their life together (and it would have made one hell of a blog!).

A couple of years ago, I enjoyed Clara: A Novel. It's a fictional account of the life of Clara Schumann. A really wonderful introduction to her life, even though it's a novel rather than biography.