In the recent thread on Gerald Walter Crawford (http://www.unsungcomposers.com/forum/index.php/topic,6116.0.html) a few of us got sidetracked into a discussion of the issue of quality. Alan Howe quite rightly reminded us to stay on topic.
Since I believe we might have been onto something on that sidetrack I am trying to continue the "debate" in a new thread. As a reminder and starting point here is the last post on this sidetrack by Matesic:
Unfortunately not many of us are qualified to judge whether a piece of music is "well written" or not. Reading a string quartet score there are certain criteria which prompt me to make such a judgment with a reasonable chance of not perpetrating a gross injustice, but when confronted with a piano piece I wouldn't have a clue. And in the context of this forum, with certain exceptions that can be argued over another day, there frankly aren't many pieces that would qualify as "truly great". The best we can hope to do is try to separate the good (stimulating, pleasurable, memorable etc) from the mediocre. All subjective, of course, but very necessary when so many competent, well-trained, even professional composers of all ages have turned out so much music that wouldn't be missed.
(Sorry, I can't figure out how to format as a quote if it comes from another thread.)
Read the rest in the thread on Crawford if you are interested, starting with post 4 or 5 where things started to get away from Crawford.
I am interested to hear what people think about questions like the following:
What constitutes "good" music (restricting ourselves to the period we are always talking about here)?
Do we always want to listen to "good" music? Do we always want to listen to great music? And how does the passion for unsung music come into this? In other words: Given a good sized sung repertoire which is generally good, much of it great (or do you disagree with this premise?) why hunt for unsung stuff? Matesich has a point when he says that much of it "wouldn't be missed", doesn't he? (Though Mozart wouldn't be missed if he had never lived or the Parthenon wouldn't be missed if the Greeks had never built it...)
The floor is open...
The purpose of this forum for me is the introduction of new pieces that I might never have heard before. I base this knowledge on forum members who are far more knowledgeable than I. We still of course have our own opinion and it isn't right or wrong. Ex. One of my favorite works is the 4th symphony of Glazunov which some people have not heard of while others finding it dull and uninspiring. Some on this forum consider him a sung composer others unsung. I find much of his work to be exciting and pretty much have most of his work in the 19 volume Naxos set released years ago.
Tom :)
A lot of it is good enough for me. So many wonderful B+ and A- composers!
How would I "know"? Do you mean verbally "justify" affection for the music? That _is_ a crucial question for this forum, and it deserves periodic discussion. That said, I might similarly try to justify my affection for my wife, who is neither famous nor on the covers of fashion magazines (though, of course, she should be).
Many unsung composers communicate with me at depths it's hard to find in our tattooed pop culture.
We've tried this before and disagreed about whether there can be objective criteria by which one can judge the quality of a piece of music, or not. I think there are such criteria, but so many other factors come into play, notably whether one has listened to something sufficiently well/over a sufficient length of time/sufficiently often, that we have never really got anywhere. Unless we can get beyond the knee-jerk 'well, I just like it' response to the 'well, I like it because...' reasoned argument, I don't think it's a subject worth pursuing again.
"Well written" and "Good" are mutually exclusive. There are a lot of things that technically are well-written, but not so good: there are hundreds of cds in my library attesting to that. The Schnabel 2nd symphony is technically well-written and horrible to listen to. Then there are things that may not be technically well written, but are not just good, but great: Musorgsky's Boris Godinov or original Night on Bald Mountain for example. Rimsky-Korsakov took them and made then well written, but was something lost in the process? Probably.
Then there are things that only a serious devotee or musician can appreciate. And the Glazunov 4th is as good as example as any. I, too, think it's a thrilling, beautiful work. But I'm in a minority. The compositional skill is astonishing. The way the themes cross-fertilize the whole work is amazing. But most people don't hear it, or care. Brilliantly scored, you'd think it would be as popular as Tchaikovsky - but it's not.
There is a lot of good music, and followers of this site are well aware hundreds of them that never appear on concerts these days. Orchestras are generally stuck playing a few hundred sanctified standard repertoire pieces over and over. There's little room for contemporary music or forgotten works. The music they play isn't just good, it's GREAT!
Which brings me to this: as a performer (bassoon) there are some works you play that you just know are GREAT. There's no logic, no way to quantify it. Every fiber in your being says "this is great stuff". In the past four weeks I've played three concerts. On one of them I played Tchaikovsky 5th. The next week Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique. I don't care how many times I play those works, I never tire of them - they are just as exciting and thrilling to play as they are to listen to. Every minute you spend polishing your part is worth it. Another concert we played Symphony No. 3 by a living composer I won't name for fear of lawsuits or defriending on Facebook. It was dull, uninspired. Went through all the motions: four movements in the right order. It was easy to play. But it was not a joyful, exciting thing to play. When the masters wrote, there's something in their writing that speaks to you and invites you to play your heart out.
As a listener at home, I spend most of my time on lesser-known music. Maybe it's not Great, but it is certainly well-written and entertaining. I get more enjoyment out of a symphony by Kalinninov, Glazunov, Schmidt, Stanford, or Bax than I do out of Brahms, Mozart, Haydn, and many other "great composers".
Finally, why hunt for the Unsung? Because every now and then you find a real gem. something worth knowing and listening to repeatedly - and something to tell others about. There's a long list of works in this category. Just a few: Raff 3 & 5, Bloch C# minor, Atterberg 6, Schmidt 4, Bakakirev 1st, and on and on.
QuoteWhich brings me to this: as a performer (bassoon) there are some works you play that you just know are GREAT. There's no logic, no way to quantify it.
I don't believe that for a moment. Of course, there's the gut-level response; but there also has to be something
objective about the music, something quantifiable, otherwise one wouldn't even be able to talk about it, e.g. melody, individuality, memorability, orchestration, harmony, rhythm, originality, novelty, etc., etc. Of course, that's hard for amateurs like me to articulate, but surely that's why experts write books/commentaries/articles, etc...
Three obstructions to the quality of unsungs are: brand name recognition, marketability, and the immense total number of compositions. Most of the big names produced a large output: enough to stuff concert halls & recordings. Just the number of unsung symphonies is remarkable. The total amount when all unsung music is added in is incredible (and there's even more than showing when works that were never published or disappeared/destroyed are included). Has anyone tried to quantify this by number of works, or duration, or how long it might take to listen to it all - even restricting this to our site's cut-off dates? Or your own collection: CDs that you haven't ever played or not heard for years, or thought you didn't rate but now could do. What gems may there be waiting to be unearthed? Then there is our own cheating with unsungs: yes, unsung composers and works to the world but not with ourselves. For us, unsung is what we don't play.
Now, I must confess that a great deal of my CD buying has been risky, prompted by the composer/work being treated as unsung and the thrill of discovering something really good. Inevitably, there is a fair bit I consider to be duds but I would guess a good majority is to me of reasonable to high quality and interest.
I spend my time researching and then publishing forgotten works, and I can assure you that it is possible to assess whether a work is good or not. You see touches of genius that are missing from other works. Songs are an extremely good way to illustrate the point and Schubert's 'Gretchen am Spinnrade' is an excellent example of a composer using the simplest ingredients in a highly skilled an inventive manner throughout. Compare Schubert's work with that of Johanna Kinkel, who wrote some very good songs, and you will observe the difference. Kinkel's songs are enjoyable with good ideas but they lack any real signs of genius and every stanza is set to the same notes. Schubert makes small changes to illustrate particular words or feelings, Kinkel does not.
At the end of the day what matters is whether any individual enjoys some music and it should not matter what someone else says about it. However, yes, it is possible to see why some pieces are more successful than others.
There may well be ways of objectively determining whether a work is good or not, but how relevant is it to do so? One of the biggest obstacles in getting recognition for unsung works, or for keeping the classical music scene alive at all for that matter, is the ridiculous notion that you need a degree of expertise in order to be allowed to enjoy it.
The most important thing is to make it possible for the public to hear music, and to give them the possibility to derive visceral enjoyment from it. How likely a piece may succeed in that mission isn't dependant upon its technical quality - there are other, far less predictable factors at work. A technically "bad" piece that happens to be heard in a movie, for instance, may be turned into an instant crowd-pleaser.
The only thing I feel I can do is to encourage people to listen to as much music as they can, and to have them listen to works that whose enjoyment I can transfer to them if I'm lucky.
By a matter of seconds Ilja has anticipated my main point, but I'll make it anyway!
How much of the obvious is worth restating here? The quality of a piece is only important in relation to the pleasure and satisfaction it gives listeners. The standard repertoire has become so because of the pleasure it has given and still gives to millions. Our pleasure isn't entirely determined by a piece's quality; also coming into play are our past experiences which may predispose us to certain periods or genres and prejudice us against others. On the other side of the coin, over-familiarity may cause a masterpiece to lose its lustre. Our response to a piece is also shaped by short-term psychological factors; I remember coming away from a concert feeling deeply underwhelmed, only to be captivated two days later by a broadcast of the same performance.
A relatively modest "unsung" piece may give disproportionate pleasure thanks to the thrill of discovery. Having reached the sad state in which I really wouldn't mind if I never heard many of the great classics again, I still get a huge buzz from hearing and playing the unfamiliar provided certain "objective" measures of quality are met. One of my past orchestras was devoted to presenting obscure operas in under-rehearsed concert performances whose greatest virtue was a high level of commitment from all concerned. The audiences were transiently roused to massive enthusiasm but the pieces mostly sank straight back into obscurity.
Which brings me to the role of the performer. Clearly a perfect rendition of the notes is only the start – a strong performance can elevate a passably good piece to a higher plane while a bad performance can make a great piece insufferable (although not necessarily to all its hearers). I have great sympathy for professional orchestral musicians who are expected to play warhorses as if their lives depended on it; for them even to look bored spoils the experience for many.
So I think the best thing we can do is to carry on promoting the music that gives us a thrill. It doesn't really matter if most of the world doesn't agree, but it's good if even a few others get to share the experience.
I for one find this discussion to be quite interesting and because of this thread another question comes to mind. I'm listening to a new recording of Dvorak's 6th Symphony with the Houston Symphony. In all my years of attending concerts I've never heard this work performed before. Dvorak is of course a sung composer but is the work itself unsung? I would tend to classify this work as one in that gray area. I'm glad to read that there is one other fan of Glazunov on the forum.
Tom
There are, of course, many recordings of Dvorak 6, but it's not all that often performed in concert. My hunch is that it's still unfamiliar to most audiences, so it's probably accurate to put it in that 'grey' area somewhere between known and unknown - which is an absolute scandal because it's one if the great romantic-era symphonies. On any level - melody, orchestration, rhythmic ingenuity, structure, originality, it's an outstanding work.
...of course, Tom, you've now got to explore the other Dvorak symphonies. Assuming you know Nos.7 to 9, I'd suggest you proceed as follows: start with No.5, then 3, then 4, 2 and finally 1.
If you're going to get a really unsung Dvorak 6th, get the one with James Gaffigan conducting. He takes the first movement repeat (which the composer stated should NEVER be taken). ;D
7,8, and 9 I'm familiar and I'm working on 6 but 1-5 I have little experience with. Need to explore these further.
Tom :)
One excellent (and cheap) way of exploring the Dvorak symphonies further is to get hold of the Suitner complete set:
http://www.amazon.com/Dvorak-Symphonies-Antonin/dp/B0036ULAXW?ie=UTF8&keywords=dvorak%20suitner&qid=1464299722&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1
(http://www.amazon.com/Dvorak-Symphonies-Antonin/dp/B0036ULAXW?ie=UTF8&keywords=dvorak%20suitner&qid=1464299722&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1)
It's a shame about Dvorak: whenever a symphony is scheduled it's always 9, 8, or 7 - that's the order of popularity for sure. Masterworks all, to be sure. I've tried repeatedly to cajole conductors into doing 3 or 6 by providing scores and recordings. While they say they like them both very much, getting that to turn into a performance hasn't happened. Carnival, Slavonic Dances, the wind or string serenades, the violin or cello concertos are done quite frequently. Dvorak has got to be the most agreeable, least offensive composer of them all, yet six of the symphonies lie in wait. I push for Fibich, too, with no success.
Here I have to disagree because the question of quality really does come up with Dvorak. I never systematically explored his early symphonies, so I won't talk about them, but I did the same with his quartets. And it was worth it, but it didn't bring up an undiscovered masterpieces. Rather we learned what a long route Dvorak had to travel before he got to writing his greatest works. I do think we do Dvorak a favor by NOT scheduling the early quartets for performance--and even recordings.
Even among his mature works the quality is uneven; his VC for example is nowhere near the cello concerto. I like the middle movement with it major/minor switches (though they probably appear a tad too often), but the last movement's musical material outstays its welcome before the middle of the movement. The second string quintet is often presented as a sister piece to the "American" quartet, but it isn't as inspired.
Quote from: mbhaub on Thursday 26 May 2016, 23:33
Dvorak has got to be the most agreeable, least offensive composer of them all, yet six of the symphonies lie in wait.
Maybe this is (part of) the problem: His music is too "agreeable": If there is nothing at all going against the grain it is hard to maintain interest. It's not wholly true for all his works though: The f minor piano quartet is truly dark at places and full of almost evil energy in the first movement. The Terzetto for 2 violins and viola has a last movement that is quite dark--almost un-pleasing.
Quotehis VC for example is nowhere near the cello concerto
Well, that would be to compare a very fine near-masterpiece with the greatest cello concerto in the repertoire.
QuoteHis music is too "agreeable"
Really? Symphony No.7 certainly doesn't fit that profile. It's surely more accurate to say that Dvorak is one of the supreme melodists of the 19th century; that's what makes him such an attractive listen. To characterise his music as 'too agreeable' is a perverse underestimate. IMHO, of course.
I can't resist responding to this. You are of course right, he was a supreme melodist (though there are quite a few of those in the 19th century), but he was more than that: He knew how to give his melodies just the accompaniment they need: Melody along with the accompanying texture as one item. Listen to the beginning measures of the first piano quartet: Dvorak takes you straight to Paradise, getting even more beautiful when the piano takes the melody. This is I believe in part--only in part--the consequence of his being a professional viola player; he knew better than anybody else in the century how to deal with string instruments (pianists tell me that his piano parts are not particularly pianistic). But the problem with the movement is that you stay in paradise for 15 minutes --until you get bored*--and this is what I meant in the post above.
I will say something else in his praise: I don't know another composer whose works are such a joy to play.
* Everybody who has seen paintings of heaven and hell from the middle ages knows that Paradise is a boring place.
P.S. Don't listen to the recording of the piano quartet that is on IMSLP; the players never manage to get to Paradise.
Quoteyou stay in paradise for 15 minutes --until you get bored
I'm
never bored. Paradise is a place precious few composers take you to...
I'm going to explore 1-5 in the set that Alan recommends.
I drive around Paradise almost every day. I'll be there in about three hours...
Ok bad joke. But one thing I think should always be considered is that if you ONLY listen to the top tier pieces of music you can't really appreciate just WHY they are top tier. You need the 'lesser' music in your ear, to contrast with it.
But also perhaps another way to look at it. Sometimes you want a well made steak lovingly prepared from a high quality cut of meat. But only eating that would be boring. Sometimes a nice greasy burger is what hits the spot.
Dvorak's never a nice greasy burger, though.
Maybe it's time to come back on thread, even if we're hardly talking "Unsung Composers" here! In my view, many of Dvorak's works that don't work and therefore remain unsung are those in which he tries too hard to achieve epic proportions (e.g. the first two symphonies and the early string quartet B.18 which plays for over an hour) or harmonic "depth". Even late in his career he sometimes failed to hit the right note. While not attempting to hide his admiration for Brahms (the sixth and seventh symphonies surely represent his tribute to Brahms's second and third), his greatest achievements came when he fully embraced the Czech nationalist school alongside Smetana and Fibich - light textures, stylistic simplicity, rhythmic vigour and straightforward melody. I do grant there are exceptions to this, but these are all qualities that contribute vitally to Dvorak's unique "voice".
Quotehis greatest achievements came when he fully embraced the Czech nationalist school alongside Smetana and Fibich - light textures, stylistic simplicity, rhythmic vigour and straightforward melody. I do grant there are exceptions to this, but these are all qualities that contribute vitally to Dvorak's unique "voice".
That's far too simplistic, I fear. The composer's greatest achievements actually occured when he successfully synthesised the three main elements that make up his unique voice, i.e. classicism (deriving from, say, Brahms), progressivism (deriving from Wagner and Liszt) and Czech nationalism. To chraracterise his best music as consisting merely in 'light textures, stylistic simplicity, rhythmic vigour and straightforward melody' is to do him a great disservice. There's a depth that such a description doesn't even begin to plumb...
I was going to qualify this from the other end: Simplicity is not simplemindedness (and I don't suggest Matesic thinks it is, I just think we need to clarify). The beginning of that piano quartet is as good an example as you can find: Repeated quavers, above them "floating" syncopated crotchets: The texture. The melody begins 2 measures in with a simple travel up and down the scale. Harmonic progression is slow. That's it. There is plenty equally simple stuff around, but this one takes you to Paradise as I said. It looks simple, but it is very hard to invent indeed. And an example for greatness (not the whole piece, but this beginning) which I believe at the end defies rational analysis.
Another example is the fourth dumka in the dumky trio. A simple repeated rhythm arpeggio in the piano, repeated crotchets in groups of two in the violin and a melody--again a simple scale--in the cello. That's all and how wonderfully melancholy it comes across! How one invents this sort of thing can not be found in a manual.
Personally I don't hear the synthesis you allude to in his masterpieces; I hear somebody who finally got around to trust his own voice and stopped trying to write something "serious" like Brahms and/or Wagner did.
QuoteI hear somebody who finally got around to trust his own voice and stopped trying to write something "serious" like Brahms and/or Wagner did
Really? The Cello Concerto isn't serious? Or the 7th Symphony? Or the Symphonic Variations?
The point about Dvorak's synthesis is that he wasn't merely a nationalist, progressive, or classicist - he was a mixture of all three, which is what makes his music so unique. In fact, it's the mixing of these tendencies which makes much of later 19th century music so fascinating. Wikipedia puts it like this:
Many of Dvořák's compositions, such as the Slavonic Dances and his large collection of songs, were directly inspired by Czech, Moravian, and other Slavic traditional music. As the basis for his works, Dvořák frequently used Slavic folk dance forms, such as skočna, Bohemian odzemek, furiant, sousedská, and špacirka, Polish mazurka and polonaise or Yugoslav Kolo, and also folk song forms of Slavic peoples including Ukrainian dumka. His 16 Slavonic Dances. Op. 46, which first gained him a wide reputation, and Op. 72, include at least one of each of these forms. He also wrote an orchestral Polonaise (1879). He called the third movement of his 6th Symphony "Scherzo (Furiant)". His Dumky Trio is one of his best-known chamber works. His major works reflect his heritage and the love he had for his native land. Dvořák followed in the footsteps of Bedřich Smetana, the composer who created the modern Czech musical style.
Dvořák had been an admirer of Wagner's music since 1857. Late in life, he said that Wagner "was so great a genius that he was capable of doing things that were beyond the reach of other composers." Wagner especially influenced Dvořák's operas, but also some orchestral pieces. According to Clapham, the theme of the Andante Sostenuto from his fourth symphony "could almost have come directly out of Tannhäuser".
From 1873 on, Dvořák's style was "moving steadily in the direction of classical models." To be more specific about "classical models", in 1894 Dvořák wrote an article in which he said the composers of the past he admired most were Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert. As the article was specifically on Schubert, three years in advance of the centennial of Schubert's birth, it seems Dvořák had a special predilection toward Schubert.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anton%C3%ADn_Dvo%C5%99%C3%A1k#Style
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anton%C3%ADn_Dvo%C5%99%C3%A1k#Style)
I think my words were clear enough, but we can all be misunderstood. I certainly didn't say those four qualities were the only ones responsible for Dvorak's greatness ("..these are all qualities that contribute vitally to Dvorak's unique 'voice'"). His inherent simplicity and straightforwardness were present from the start but in his less successful pieces seem to have become submerged by a striving for greater profundity. It is interesting that his last two string quartets (Op.105 and Op.106) have never achieved the same acceptance from audiences (or affection of players) as the earlier Op.51 and Op.96 quartets. I simply believe that in these pieces he was trying too hard.
Very shortly: I put "serious" in quotation marks for a reason. Of course these works are serious (personally I don't like the Symphonic Variations, his voice doesn't seem to come through, but even so I know they are serious).
Wikipedia confirms Dvorak's admiration for Wagner but doesn't really back up the synthesis-hypothesis, mentioning as models instead Mozart and Schubert, both of which I can hear (with Schubert it is maybe more a sort of kinship than actual artistic influence). I don't recall ever hearing one of his operas where presumably Wagner's influence would be more clearly traceable (Leitmotifs for example). Anyhow I don't dispute the synthesis exists (I have read it elsewhere before now), I just don't hear it in the works I esteem highest. And while he belongs to the Czech "school" his voice is very much his own, quite different from Smetana's.
A to the quartets, Matesic, I think his last two quartets are on the level, as attractive as op. 51. Op. 96 is a one off; nobody before or after ever wrote something quite like it, but the other three form a nice group of "normal" but great string quartets. I don't know why the last two are less popular (though not that much less than op 51); could it be because they are considerably more difficult to play? E.g. one of the scherzi has whole-bar-quintuplets and similar tricks to soften the rhythm. I have never hear that played the way I imagine it (and yet can't play myself...).
QuoteI hear somebody who finally got around to trust his own voice and stopped trying to write something "serious" like Brahms and/or Wagner did
Well, he didn't finally get round to trusting his own voice and stop trying to write something serious. That implies that his own voice was incapable of producing such a thing. In fact, what he did was to trust his own voice - a personal synthesis of various influences -
in order to write something serious when it was his intention to do so, as clearly was the case in respect of the three masterpieces which I mentioned in my previous post. In fact, he was such a great genius that he was capable of writing at all levels, from the lightest to the most serious, and mastering them all.
QuoteI don't recall ever hearing one of his operas where presumably Wagner's influence would be more clearly traceable (Leitmotifs for example).
His early opera
Alfred is very Wagnerian:
In the libretto the story was originally arranged into seven tableaux, but Dvorak separated the first of these and combined others to create three acts. The musical setting was greatly influenced by Dvorak's special – and, at that time, still considerably uncritical – interest in Wagner's music. The score for Alfred bears a series of traits typical of the Bayreuth Master:
copious use of leitmotifs, a compact orchestral setting, and "endless", richly modulating melodies. When the opera was first staged many years later, the critics even noted that "the score of Alfred is more Wagnerian than Wagner; Dvorak's submission to his great example is here almost unqualified in its sincerity". The work may be seen as formally fragmented and indistinctive in terms of expression, yet it is nevertheless a promising demonstration of the composer's sense of the impact of choral scenes and the full orchestral sound. (emphasis added)
http://antonin-dvorak.cz/en/alfred (http://antonin-dvorak.cz/en/alfred)
Anyway, this diversion has run its course; let's get back to the unsungs...
But a good diversion for me as I learned about Dvorak.
I wonder though, are Dvorak's middle/late liturgical works seriously underknown (outside of UK, Czech rep) because they're lesser works? Are the requiem, the Te Deum, Stabat Mater, Mass in D (also, while near the subject, Kate, Armida, etc.) - well, probably preaching the choir to, here... Pun in ten...
Personally, I wouldn't say they're lesser works. They simply prove the great range of the composer...
My inability to recall a single note of the Requiem may reflect nothing more than my own ignorance and/or inattention, but I can't help feeling that the English choral society tradition for which he wrote it didn't unleash the best of his native qualities. The Te Deum, on the other hand, has a passion and vibrancy that even seem to anticipate Janacek. Like the nearly contemporary Op.96 quartet (always a joy to play) he didn't waste time worrying about his illustrious predecessors but just let it all hang out.
I was singing in a choir for a few years and we rehearsed and performed the Stabat Mater--written according to the conductor in response to three of his children dying within a year (not sure I remember the number correctly, but horrific for Dvorak and his wife in any case). This is a long time ago now but I began with skepticism about the work and ended up convinced. I think it would be well worth a few more performances than it has been getting.
I have to say that "Stabat Mater" is one of my favorite church music texts. It deals with its subject from the point of view of a single person and in simple verses (Latinists say it is bad Latin, but that does not bother me), giving the composer guidance as well as room to operate. If what the conductor told us is true a more fitting text could not have been found.
QuoteMy inability to recall a single note of the Requiem may reflect nothing more than my own ignorance and/or inattention
It does ;)
Maybe so, but Dvorak's Requiem is definitely an unsung piece in my neck of the woods. Somehow in all my years of accompanying choral societies it's never come up (the Te Deum has on 3 occasions I think). Given a choice between it and yet another Elijah or Israel in Egypt I'd welcome the chance to get to know it better.
Sure, it's unsung. But it shouldn't be. At least it's been recorded multiple times.
Which raises another question. If an unsung work is recorded a number of times does it then become sung?
Well, recordings and public performances are two entirely different things. A work can be receive multiple recordings, but be almost unknown to to the wider public because it's so rarely performed in concerts.
Quotethe synthesis-hypothesis
One way Dvorak synthesized Wagner was in his use of "nontonal" half-diminished seventh chords -- those created by chromatic alteration of the scale. This refers, of course, to the famous Tristan chord.* In the opening of Dvorak's Symphony 9 the composer finds several places to insert these chords. Many other composers employed "Tristan chords," too, but I think Dvorak found fresh paths of his own. It's been some years since I was repetiteur for a production of Rusalka, but I recall a few well-chosen Tristan chords there, too.
In the coda of the last movement of Symphony 9, Dvorak combines the themes of his four movements the way that Bruckner does in his Symphony 8. As you all know, Dvorak scoots off for further exploration after a few measures. The point here is that the passage shows that D was listening to new and "serious" music by more composers than just Brahms and Wagner -- seeing what he could do himself with new ideas. Sometimes in certain passages I wonder who heard whom first, Dvorak or Grieg?
------------------
* which Wagner probably borrowed from Liszt. That said, if it were Liszt Dvorak were synthesizing the latter's music would use far more augmented triads as pivot chords.
Another great example of an unsung work is Glazunov's 1st symphony written in his teenage years but certainly has the sound of a mature composer.Has been recorded a few times but mostly in sets of all of his symphonies.
Tom :)
I do believe that one should take one's prejudices for a drive round the block occasionally, so I've been listening to Dvorak's relatively unsung Requiem in the hope that something would stir in my memory or my musical pleasure centres. It didn't, and I can't imagine it will next time either. The problem for most unsung composers, I believe, is that in spite sometimes of very considerable talent they failed to develop a distinctive voice, so audiences when confronted with an unfamiliar work are never prompted to think "Oh yes, that's Ebenezer Prout". in this case, however, Dvorak seems to have deliberately stifled his own voice in the belief that an English choral society shouldn't be taken out of its comfort zone. Yes, it's a requiem, but does it have to be so serious? I'd be grateful to hear of anyone's contrary views, particularly if they can dissect and articulate what it is they like about the work.
Which recording of Dvorak's Requiem do you have?
Zdenek Kosler with the Slovak PO. I expect Ancerl and Kertesz are better. Trying to get my tongue round these names I'm reminded of a T-shirt that said "Only a composer called Dvorak would write an opera called Dmitrij". Incidentally, I see the Requiem was given its Proms première as recently as 1994!
Probably, but not significantly so. Maybe this spectacular performance conducted by Jansons on YouTube might persuade you...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPxHEN9lXCU (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPxHEN9lXCU)
I've been listening to another Dvorak work his 8th symphony. I assume that this is a sung work. I've heard the Minnesota Orchestra perform this as well as the San Diego Symphony. I find it in some ways superior to his 9th.
Tom :)
QuoteYes, it's a requiem, but does it have to be so serious?
In nineteenth-century German-speaking lands, there
was a tendency to take Requiems seriously. Already in the early decades a composer/critic like E.T.A. Hoffmann (and one could as easily mention Rochlitz or Gottfried Weber) could write that church music had reached its zenith under Palestrina and maintained that standard until the last part of the 18th century, when it went astray. The rest of the century worked those sentiments out in various ways.
For what it's worth, there's a rave review [10/10] of a performance of the Dvorak Requiem by the Warsaw PO and Chorus under Wit at http://www.classicstoday.com/review/marvelous-new-dvorak-requiem-wit/ (http://www.classicstoday.com/review/marvelous-new-dvorak-requiem-wit/).
Jansons's live performance of Dvorak's Requiem on youtube certainly evinces more drama than Kosler's in the earlier movements but I found my interest waning later on in the piece. Much of the choral writing is rather slow-moving, even in the Dies Irae, which could be one reason why it hasn't become popular amongst choral societies.On an earlier visit to England Dvorak was asked to conduct a choir of 500, which could have persuaded him that English choral societies couldn't cope with music that was light and athletic. The Mass in D Op.86, on the other hand, has a much more vigorous, lusty feel to it; I'm not sure I'd have been able to identify the composer in a blind audition, but it seems much more characteristic of the man who wrote the symphonies.
I too was a little taken aback by the idea that a requiem is too serious. I'd add that the text is not just about death; it is about the whole complicated and frightening (for believers) sin and forgiveness theology of the catholic church. The idea that your loved one in the coffin may now undergo serious time in purgatory (or worse) is more than serious, it creates fear. Dvorak was catholic himself, if he was religious in a serious way at the time he wrote the requiem I don't know, but he grew up with this stuff. BTW Brahms was protestant (and not truly religious) and made up the text for his requiem himself. Yet it is plenty serious (though more dramatic and / or energetic than Dvorak's I suppose).
Sorry, I confess I couldn't resist the irony there, although with a core of sincerity too. Is Chill319 implying that German-speaking composers of the (late?) 19th century took the Requiem Mass especially seriously? Draeseke might make an appropriate comparison, but I can't immediately think of another example. What I miss from Dvorak is both the excitement (perhaps not fear - you need to go to Italy for that!) and consolation that are present in abundance in Brahms's humanist piece. Although English choral societies must have sung a lot of boringly portentous works, these usually took the form of dramatic oratorios or secular cantatas. Newly composed requiems weren't their standard fare at all, so I think Dvorak rather mistook his aim as regards both the performers and the audience.
QuoteIs Chill319 implying that German-speaking composers of the (late?) 19th century took the Requiem Mass especially seriously?
I was thinking more of how during the 19th-century a number of easily identifiable composers (Schumann, for instance) abjured some or most of their characteristic style and intentionally modified their expressive range to write religious music (not just Requiems) that was less about, say, personhood than their other music. (Schumann is even said to have written his late liturgical music in accordance with a system of mathematical proportions, not unlike Bartok 80 or 90 years later.) The observation about Dvorak's experience with a British chorus of 500 is quite interesting. Without denying its relevance it's possible that Dvorak was also intentionally moving a bit into the expressive sphere characterized by the neo-Palestrina movement.
I suspect every composer modifies his or her style to some degree when setting a sacred text. Most predecessors of Dvorak who set the Requiem or "Solemn Mass" managed to do so while maintaining their individuality (think Mozart, Beethoven, Berlioz, Verdi, Rossini!), although Schumann's late setting seems to be generally regarded as a failure. I read that Dvorak's commission from the Birmingham Musical Festival was for either a sacred or a secular piece but he was encouraged "in any case to write only Dvorak". Also, according to John Clapham, "The composer was much keener on writing chamber music and a symphony at that time". There then followed an unseemly wrangle over the fee, Dvorak finally settling for £650 which probably converts to at least $50,000 in today's money! It all suggests to me that his heart wasn't really in it.
Since this thread is not about liturgical music, let me respond, matesic, by asking you and everyone:
In judging how good a piece of unsung (or new-to-us) music is, do we err when we bring into consideration circumstances outside the score? There's the Dvorak story just told. There's also the familiar 19th-century trope of a composer's last piece, which attracts special attention for being claimed as such. Or even such circumstances as whether, in Paris, the ballet is properly located in an opera's second act.
I don't mean to suggest that there's a one-size-fits-all answer! Composers like Stravinsky and Rachmaninov had underlying programs behind such big pieces as the "Faust" sonata and the Symphony in Three Movements. Neither composer wanted to share their personal programs, in part, I would guess, because they didn't want their scenario to become baggage that listeners had to contend with, beyond the notes. Nevertheless the scenario was part of their creative process.
Matesic surmises, possibly correctly, that a reluctance to write liturgical choral music affected Dvorak's creative process. A reality-based scenario rather than an imaginative one, but a scenario nonetheless. Let's suppose that's fact. Is that information also baggage, also better withheld from posterity?
This point is particularly relevant to unsung composers because in the minor economy of classical music it's generally convenient for cash-strapped organizations to assume that a work is unsung because it simply didn't pass muster. The circumstances under which muster may or may not have been simply passed are no longer relevant -- too much information. I think we all know that, for recreative musicians (as opposed to listeners) it's not unusual for circumstantial information to function as the initial trigger for a musician's interest in a previously unknown composer. This might come in as simple a form as a recommendation from a respected colleague.
What happens when that musician investigates the score? Obviously that varies with the musician and the score. But the most moving performances -- for me, at least -- occur when musicians search for themselves in a score's music. It's the part of the nineteenth-century aesthetic I most cherish. When Brahms heard that Draeseke was getting married, he thought that circumstance would mean the end of Draeseke as a serious composer. He was quite wrong, of course, but it illustrates how much music could be experienced as a three- or four-dimensional world one could live in, revisit, and find aspects of oneself extended. The catch: entry to that world required a degree of focus, of dedication, of faith.
Granting that some fine music is written solely to entertain, and that a healthy life is many-sided, I would still encourage any musician who feels so drawn to seek reflections of their heart and mind in a score, even or especially if that score has not previously elicited such an interaction. It used to be said that Toscanini made second-rate music sound better than it really was. Clever, but such comments betray an ignorance of how scores actually function. Should some external circumstance spark a musician's deeper interaction with a score, more power to it. On the other hand, external factors that inhibit such personal engagement, no matter how fascinating, are to be ignored if the object is music making and not history writing.
Example: If Sokolov plays 'late' Schubert aware of the composer's fate, does he play it better? Yes, if it moves him to sympathy and a sense of the shared human condition.
Example: If violinist X plays 'late' Schumann aware of the composer's syphilitic end, does she play it better? No, if, as custom dictates, she classifies that end under "madness" and then retrofits that judgment onto some number of the composer's 'declining' years in Dusseldorf.
QuoteIt used to be said that Toscanini made second-rate music sound better than it really was.
Maybe that was because he made
all the music he conducted sound fabulous. It was also said of Beecham, I think. Of course, among the problems unsung music has are (i) unfamiliarity to players and conductors, resulting perhaps in a tentative run-through rather than an inspired performance in which the music is truly 'under the fingers', and (ii) the reality that it tends to be the lesser players and conductors who perform it. Now, I realise that the acknowledged great orchestras, soloists and conductors don't always rise above the routine themselves and that the so-called lesser lights can actually play their socks off, so to speak, but I am too often left wondering how unsung symphonies would sound in the hands of the Berlin Philharmonic or how unsung operas would come across if Anja Harteros and Jonas Kaufmann were in the cast-list.
In other words, when attempting to judge how good a piece of unsung music is, how often does one hear it in a truly great performance? For example, I've heard some pretty miserable performances of Brahms 1 and found myself thoroughly bored as orchestra and conductor lumber along, sucking all the life out of it. Yet I know that the piece is better than that because I've heard umpteen recordings that get it right. So how often does one dismiss a piece because it's been merely adequately played?
I think this effect is even a stronger:
Good performances are present as models not only in the minds of listeners, but also of performers. For sung music this has the effect of 1) providing performers with examples of how the music can be well played, 2) of setting the standard and making them work to live up to it. If a performer however decides (or is asked to) tackle an unsung piece there may be a recording around somewhere, more or less good, but chances are he never heard it performed live (to me still the gold standard) and also that there is no practical way to hear it performed before he does it himself. He is alone with the score. He has to invent the wheel from scratch. It is harder than sung music and easier at the same time: (Almost) no examples of other people's interpretation, but also no pressure from a Bruno Walter recording or a performance by a top orchestra in top form.
Unavoidably the less a piece is worked on by performers the less its qualities are likely to be fully explored and the less likely a performance is as appealing as the composition would allow.
Chill has given us plenty to think about, but regarding his last point I actually don't think it's ever a good idea for an interpreter to take account of the composer's contemporary circumstances or eventual fate. To stick with the example given, in my view Schubert's last piano sonata is often terribly overplayed for pathos, when the notes on the page are completely devoid of expression marks suggesting this is how he wanted it. It has been said that in his late works he strived too hard for profundity, but that I believe is the fault of his interpreters.
In our discussion of Dvorak's Requiem I didn't mean to imply that knowledge of the circumstances should influence our opinion of the piece - perhaps it's better not to know. I gather his oratorio St Ludmila is much more characteristically vigorous and dramatic, so I wonder why it's even more of a rarity with choral societies?
last couple of days I've been revisiting Glazunov. Which symphony is your favorite and why?
Or, to align Tom's question more closely with the subject of the thread: how good is the best of Glazunov's symphonies, and why? (It's relatively easy to say why one likes a piece - but much harder to say why one thinks a certain piece is good, speaking more objectively.)
For me Glazunov's Fifth has such rythmic verve, propulsive momentum, sparkling orchestration, glorious instantly-memorable melody and, in its finale, one of the most exciting movements in the symphonic repertoire that it is undoubtedly the most successful in his canon. It's not the deepest work around but it must be a candidate for being the most straightforwardly enjoyable symphony you could hope to find.
I realize this is an aside and may require a new thread but can anyone recommend a boxed set of the Glazunov symphonies? A friend of mine has a birthday early in the New Year and has hinted he would like just such a set. I rather like the Svetlanov versions, but the presentation is so awful - shoddy and slapdash and uninformative - that I hesitate to purchase that, although the performances are exciting.
There's no doubt in my mind that Serebrier's set is the best: superior playing and recording throughout, coupled with the conductor's profound understanding of the idiom. However, as a set it seems to have been deleted, which is rather annoying. Otherwise, I'd probably go for beautifully considered Otaka set - which you can hear excerpts from here (Otaka is probably at the opposite end of the interpretive spectrum from Svetlanov):
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Glazunov-National-Orchestra-Wales-Tadaaki/dp/B004RE6KGI/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1482260441&sr=8-5&keywords=glazunov+symphonies (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Glazunov-National-Orchestra-Wales-Tadaaki/dp/B004RE6KGI/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1482260441&sr=8-5&keywords=glazunov+symphonies)
Hi -
Although the Serebrier set seems to be unavailable in cd form, it is downloadable from Presto Classical, either as mp3 or flac. See http://www.prestoclassical.co.uk/r/Warner%2BClassics/2564664674#download
It's better than not available at all, anyway.
Hope this helps
I collect Glazunov sets - all of them. The Svetlanov is ok, but the sound is harsh at times, and sometimes I get the feeling he really didn't know them all that well. His compatriot Rozdestvensky really has a grip on them and the performances are thrilling and the sound is really strident at times. If it's modern sound and great playing, the Serebrier set is tough to beat. The Naxos series has some fine entries, but not all. The Chandos is incomplete. The Fedoseyev is pretty exciting - most sets require 6 disks, his take only 4. Otaka on Bis is just fine with me, the price certainly good and I think he really understands them, too. But - if I had to rush to grab one set before the house burned down it would be the Neeme Jarvi set on Orfeo that I grabbed, but they were never issued as a complete set (like in a box) and they're hard to find and pricey. But I really enjoy his Glazunov - exciting, delicate, ballet like when needed. The Bamberg Symphony plays great, too. And Mark is right - there are few symphonies with finales as thrilling as the 5th and Svetlanov nails it.
I'm quite taken with Glazunov's Symphony 8. The first movement takes motivic consistency about as far as it can go (in Glazunov's idiom) without overstaying its welcome -- a masterfully wrought movement. You might say it anticipates the kind of continuous variation found in some 20th-century Scandinavian symphonies. But it's the slow movement that really makes the 8th symphony for me. Here Glazunov is travelling outside of his comfort zone, and the results are dramatic and moving. It isn't fair to call it a cross between Tchaikovsky and Wagner since it's as mature and personal as anything Glazunov wrote. Still...
I would have to disagree with reg. Serebrier's Glazunov set - Serebrier seems to know how to make the best of introductions eg - Symphony No. 5. He make the intro quite exciting and builds up the climax to the Allegro where in lays all the action - here he suddenly seems to loose steam. I agree the sound quality is phenomenal which makes for very good listening, but Serebrier can't match Neeme Järvi in terms of interpretation. He brings out the wildness of Last movement and its wonderful syncopated gallop to a showstopping climax. Even Symphony No. 7 [seemingly the weakest] - here Järvi makes a better case for it than Serebrier. I consider Järvi's version of Glazunov and Berwald superior to all [of course i feel his Dvorak set was a flop!]. Järvi's Glazunov is the set I'd recommend.
Music - sung or unsung - should be listened to, performed, enjoyed and shared - not discussed 8)
In my opinion, the constant comparing unsung pieces with its contemporary sung ones is silly, or even perverse. One may rather discuss interpretations, but this too is a matter of taste.
I have lost quite a lot of time of my life by reading musicologist's books, making me feel more confused than satisfied. I interprete the pieces I am allowed to perform out of my belly - using, of course, experiences gained from listening to great artists and performances. I have never completed conservatory studies; I refused to be terrorised by so many existing (and also questionable) musical opinions and rules. If someone does not like this or that piece I perform, it's his problem. I feel honest enough to dare to perform the pieces that I have chosen. I respect criticism and advice from those who have more experience and knowledge, but not from those critics (or amateur critics) who listen to my recordings following score bar by bar. Music has dimensions which go beyond its written notes and dynamics, and, if one has the gift to perceive these, he should either become a music lover or a performer. Music needs a great general culture and I was horrified to meet so many well-known conductors and soloists with whom I could not even talk about literature, painting, sculpture and cinema.
Bravissimo, chill319, for your higly important observations of June 11th!
Years ago, a super soloist wanted me to be present at her first reading of my Clarinet Quintet. Right before she started to play, she asked me to tell her the feelings I had whilst writing my piece - and I answered I would tell this only after her final (concert) performance, that she just should go on playing. I will never forget her constant looking at me studying the part and I felt in need to leave. She asked me to stay. My silent presence alone, apparently, would help her to interprete. After the concert, she rushed towards me and asked me whether she had "catched my feelings" - and I answered: "I now have catched yours" and kissed her joyfully.
Thank you very much for all your suggestions and informed opinions re. Glazunov symphonies. I shall look about and perhaps my friend will get some of the Jarvi disks and can collect the rest himself. A pity about the deletion of the Serebrier set since it is thought of so highly. Doubtless it will reappear - but who knows when!
I'm leaning toward his 4th symphony. The three movement work starts out with a pretty but solemn melody followed by a nice scherzo and concluding with an allegro. A very nice conclusion.
QuoteIn my opinion, the constant comparing unsung pieces with its contemporary sung ones is silly, or even perverse. One may rather discuss interpretations, but this too is a matter of taste.
Not merely, I think; this is what as a teacher I like to call "postmodernism for beginners" and see a lot in students: I think something, you think something, therefore we both think equally valid things. Yet I have educated myself and you have not; on the other hand my nostalgia leads me to decide that Battlestar Galactica is a great TV show whereas you can see it for the flawed, rushed jumble that it is because you have the distance of time and experience. To declare something "just a matter of taste" is to say that meaningful discussion is impossible, whereas I am convinced it is not. It is just important how you express it and which parameters you set out for yourself.
However, "unsung music" isn't really a category in and of itself: it is a historical contingency, just like "sung" music is. So to discuss the distinguishing qualities of unsung music in particular is per definition useless.
Having said that, I have often enjoyed "academic" treatments of music and while some has been confusing, knowing the circumstances of how a work was conceived and received has always given me a better understanding of it.