O Tempora, O Laetitiam Maximam: Finalmente, I Lituani!!

[Poster advertising a 19th century production; all images from Wikipedia]

If you know La Gioconda well (and everyone should!—I am right about this), you will know the moment you hear I Lituani that Amilcare Ponchielli has written this opera too. There are all sorts of touches that identify the compositional fingerprints as none other than our own Amilcare’s. There is use of high woodwinds in rapid jagged figurations in thirds, for example. And on two occasions, he employs a particular chord progression that only he (and Mascagni, later, in Cav-- in my experience, at any rate) uses and which he uses to heighten the emotional tenor of a scene. Other composers will do something similar and the lead up to the chord will be the same. But the resultant chord, which dear reader your ear is expecting, is the one you get from other composers. From Ponchielli, you get this other chord and the effect is fresh and also the strongest sort of authorial fingerprint. You feel the emotional tide shift violently and so the plot is dramatized most effectively at the level of your emotional reaction cued by the music while you go all “meta” at the same time, seeing the composer’s hand, as it were, underlining the note and signing his masterpiece. It is so delicious and it is one of the many reasons I love Ponchielli. He makes use of this progression in La Gioconda and, as I have said, twice in I Lituani. (I could try to find these momnents, as I noted them in Greece while I was listening to the piece a lot. But I am not going to find them now. Is this bad service? Do you want to call the manager on my ass? Maybe you will be mollified by two sound clips below? I certainly hope so.)

I Lituani is a nationalistic opera a la William Tell or one of Verdi’s galley pieces (La Battaglia springs to mind). It concludes with a chorus which recalls the final chorus of the William Tell come to think of it. It is all about the struggle of the Lithuanians against the Germans in the later middle ages. This opera not surprisingly has been taken to heart by Lithuanians and it was put on in Chicago in the 90s where there is a sizable Lithuanian population. Here is the poster for that production:



The opera is in a prologue and three acts.

In a nutshell here is the plot:

Corrado Wallenrod, actually a Lithuanian named Walter who is impersonating a loyal Teutonic Knight, allows the Lithuanians to win against the Teutons by executing a long-planned misdirection. Aldona, his wife who has entered a convent, searches for her love Walter, and finds him right before he is sentenced to death for his deception.

In more detail, here is the plot (thanks to Wikipedia):

Prologue:
From the battlements of a castle in Lithuania, Albano--an old bard--moans that his country is being destroyed by the Teutons. Aldona, a Lithuanian princess, wonders about her brother, Arnoldo, and Walter, her husband, and invites everyone to pray. Arnoldo and Walter return and announce a heinous betrayal by Vitoldo, one of their leaders, which has led to the defeat of the Lithuanian army. Walter tells his wife about using his German education to defeat the Teutonic Knights, and swears his eternal love for her before leaving to avenge the Lithuanians.

[Here is a wonderful moment from the prologue. The melody here is the melody that starts the opera.]

[[One wants to take Ponchielli aside, “Ascolta [listen up], Amilcare---what is it with all the names beginning with “A.” Oh wait, I think I just answered my own question, "A"milcare. But all the same, As Ah was Assertin’ as to Aldona, Arnaldo, and Albano, I mean Verdi would never do this, put in so many names starting with "A," of course, take Aida, for example, there’s Aida, Amneris, Amonas… oh... never mind.]]

Act I
Ten years later, in the cathedral square of Marienburg, the Teutonic Knights celebrate the new Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, Corrado Wallenrod, who is actually Walter. Vitoldo is furious, because he believes he should be Grand Master. Ten Lithuanian prisoners in chains are brought to be sacrificed in Corrado's honor at the celebration; Arnoldo is one of them. Corrado unexpectedly frees them, and afterwards Arnoldo realizes that Corrado is actually Walter. Arnoldo runs into his sister, Aldonda, who has come to Marienburg after entering a convent, hoping to find Walter. Albano, Arnoldo, and Aldona set out to find Walter in the castle.

Act II
In a large hall of the castle where the celebration is being held, Corrado invites everyone to dance and to sing. Arnoldo and Aldona, disguised as bards, sing a song about the sad fate of Lithuania, which also predicts its imminent liberation. The Teutonic Knights object, and Corrado hurls himself towards Arnoldo, while Aldona tries to separate them. Corrado orders the knights to sheath their swords, and Albano tries to convince Corrado not to give his true identity away. Vitoldo recognizes Aldona, but Corrado orders the judgement against Aldona and Arnoldo be adjourned so that the celebration can continue.

Act III
Aldona comes out of the ruins of a cloister, where a battle between the Lithuanians and Teutonic Knights is taking place nearby. She meets Walter, and hopes for a happy future of love, but Walter has been betrayed for causing the defeat of the Teutonic Knights by the Lithuanians. Later, back in the castle, Albano tells Walter that a secret court has sentenced Walter to death. Rather than falling into enemy hands, Walter drinks some poison and exalts the victory of the Lithuanians, and asks Albano to give Aldona his last farewell. Aldona arrives, and Walter dies in her arms. The Willi, divine spirits of Lithuania, arrive to welcome the glorious warrior's soul.

[Hooray for heroic self-sacrificing manhood! Give it all up for Lithuania!!]

As far as the performance goes, Gavazzeni conducts so wonderfully. He is always so good. He also has a good band to work with (check out the care with which the lower strings play their intricate and rapid figurations on CD1 track 2. Gav asked for tight careful work and the orchestra is able to deliver). Ottavio Garaventa is a little crude, but he has a manly glamour in his voice and I like him even if I want just a bit more finesse at times. (You will have heard him foregrounded in the clip above.) The other performances are well-done. Yasuko Hayashi has a nice lyric soprano that has some spinto in it. She's good and to be found on many a pirate. I have liked her in the past, I like her even more now. The ensembles make their points and the passion in this piece is brought out well in an alert and all in all quite satisfying performance.

The prelude is very nice, starting off interestingly with a sort of passionate moderato. The melody I refer to here is the same as the one in the clip up above. This prelude is as nice a thing as the prelude to La Gioconda, and that is saying something.

To conclude, here a delightful bit of music (from Act 2) that is well so so so Ponchielli (and, kids, that is reason enough to go to the opera). Here it is. I have played this one a bunch of times; it is the kind of music that puts a smile on my face and I am altogether pleased that I am AT THE OPERA.


[A page from the autograph score of I Lituani]

Netrbko Fever not Abated

Courtesy of one of my guilty, I plead guilty, your honour, pleasures: Opera Chic

My sister Barbara (or as Hyacinth "Bouquet" might put it, me'sister Barbara) will get this site cuz she reads People Magazine. This site is a somewhat like People Magazine for opera- and classical musico-philes; though to say the site is only that would be unfair, I have noted some excellent judgments and she has got a most interesting discourse range going--- one second the basis of judgment is coming right out highly intellectualized musical criticism, the next second it is the judgment of a listener who is keen and has heard many many performances, and then the next it is a basis of utter frivolous absurdity (and when she is here, she winks!) It is fun stuff if a little over the top. The piece on dontdatehimgirl.com was pretty damn funny. Furtwangler's jilted lover spreading the word on that two-timeing Willis, don't date him Fraulein!

Id sum nunc, populi!, sed alii erunt ea mox. Ita vero.

Chalkenteros has tagged me. I go now to page 123 of, wait for it... wait for it... volume 2 of the Loeb classical library... wait for it... PLOTINUS! O Gioia Inexprimabile!!

HERE IT IS (and good thing that the Loebs have English on the odd pages):

[Plotinus, Enneads 2.5]:
"Now if this is so, then besides the other qualities, colours and degrees of heat and cold, we must not attribute to it lightness or heaviness, density or rarity, and indeed not even shape: and so not size either. For it is one thing to be size and another to be given a size, one thing to be a shape, another to be given shape." [Well of course, I was telling Nelson, our terrier, this this morning!] "And matter must not be composite, but simple and one thing in its own nature; for so it will be destitute of all qualities." [Yeah yeah, been there and done that at least since Plato laid this groove down in the Timaeus.] I tag AS/Mashugenah and Stephanie-- and let them go to page 123 of the nearest book and transcribe sentences 5, 6, and 7 onto their blogs. And may they too tag others.

Back!

Well we did have a lovely trip. I have drawn you up a little map here (it is more than a little crude--- the red is our general motion and the green is a special trip we took one day to this totally deserted and gorgeous beach on the west coast):



We first went down to Christchurch which was flat, boring, and rather rainy. Will not visit there except for business in the future. We did howver take a trip to Akaroa which is out on the coast. I have crudely labelled it on the above map for you. It was beautiful and below are some picture that will prove it. After 2 days of fairly poor weather, like I have said (with some nice clearing for that day trip), we called the place where we stay in Takaka on Golden Bay to see if we could come a day early. We could! So it was good-bye to boring Christchurch and back up the island. It was a lovely six-hour drive on which we saw a lot of beautiful. country in the interior of the island that we had not seen before. Takaka is where we spent a little over a week. It was chill-time. Watching movies. I wrote up the bulk of Chapter Four of my book--- the muse was most cooperative. I have this book review I am supposed to write but as long as the muse gives me unfettered access to my brain (or something like that), the book review can f!@#ing wait, yaknow? Dinners, all made by me in house, went well. Brekafasts too. Dessert, usually a strong point, was another story. I made a terrible pie [can't use already-made pie crust, I know I know, I was looking for the easy way out faced as I was by a primitive kitchen, yeah yeah I know) and some lame cookies. Two for two!! Score!! People!!! We listened to a lot of opera from all periods (things by Fibich, Lalo, and Strauss, inter alios). One day we made our way to a really deserted beach, as I said above. New Zealand is great for that. Now Pictures.

Next two are from the road above Akaroa:





Here is the view from the front of the little house we rent in Takaka. (Just behind you, you can hear Timmy making excuses as to why he might not want to have a cookie just right now):



Various other shots from around Takaka:









The remaining shots are from that deserted beach (nice huh?):

Gone for a week or so...

I will return to posting sometime after 11 February. We are going to visit Christchurch for the first time and then up to Golden Bay for a week for some nice R & R. I have just finished a very difficult chapter of the book I am writing and am now in the home stretch. Yay! I will continue to work there but at a reduced pace. Look for pictures of the glorious south island in summer when I return. Until then or until the next internet access (whichever comes first, I should think). Here are some pictures of Leyla Gencer.

Then:



And now:



I want to spend some time on her when I return. Nasty glottal attacks, disembodied high notes of stunning delicacy, and goddammit high notes at all act curtains. Her presentation of Donizetti heroines is both an acquired taste and essential. But that is all for now but more, always more, later.

Greek Trip Addendum!

A little more on the trip to Greece--- about which scroll back into December and November--- there are many pictures there and some commentary, occasionally detailed and (im)moderately revealing once or twice.

Anyway, we had a "Secret Santa" thing going on and one of the students was was given for his present this very nice drawing of all the members of our trip. The young woman who drew the picture is quite talented I think at capturing a likeness and going about it in a sympathetic way. Her mode of representation is exemplary of the way we should do so many things--- and which we do not because of fears of various kinds (click to make it bigger, of course):




[Where's Waldo?]

Happy Birthday to Sister Mary

A little early, as her birthday is not for a couple of days, but as I am going away on vacation and don't anticipate being anywhere near an internet connection, an early birthday wish to my sister Mary (who is not a nun--despite the title of this post)!! She is a lovely, able, and lovable person (and business-person) with two beautiful children and a husband who has been a delight ever since he joined the family. Love you, Mary!

Go Bears!

In honour of our hopes for a Bears' victory, here is something relevant from over 20 years ago. Catch the tricky camera work that introduces "The Fridge"!


Super Bowl Shuffle - video powered by Metacafe

This is most assuredly a blast from the past and change of pace from the advanced case of Vaness-Trebazoid Fever that so often grips this place-- but you know, "There's no one here who does it like me, my superbowl shuffle will set you free!" [Want an E flat with that?]

The End of Book 8 of Statius' Thebaid!

Latin blogging! People!!
or
Verba Bloggea Latinaque, Populi!!

In answer to a request from Stephanie in the comments of the previous posting posting here are the final lines to Book 8 of the Thebaid:

erigitur Tydeus uultuque occurrit et amens
laetitiaque iraque, ut singultantia uidit
ora trahique oculos seseque agnouit in illo,
imperat abscisum porgi, laeuaque receptum
spectat atrox hostile caput, gliscitque tepentis 755
lumina torua uidens et adhuc dubitantia figi.
infelix contentus erat: plus exigit ultrix
Tisiphone; iamque inflexo Tritonia patre
uenerat et misero decus inmortale ferebat,
atque illum effracti perfusum tabe cerebri 760
aspicit et uiuo scelerantem sanguine fauces
(nec comites auferre ualent): stetit aspera Gorgon
crinibus emissis rectique ante ora cerastae
uelauere deam; fugit auersata iacentem,
nec prius astra subit quam mystica lampas et insons 765 Ilissos multa purgauit lumina lympha.

Right!

Well this is only one of the glories of Latin literature!

The hero Tydeus has been mortally wounded and in his macho warrior delirium he demands the head of the one who has mortally wounded him. The head is brought to him and Tydeus begins to eat it (yes you read that right), whose eyes, Statius goulishly notes, had still not quite fixed yet (oooh: adhuc dubitantia figi [756]). The goddes Athenas who was bringing him immortality discovers her favourite befouling his face with living blood (oooh again: uiuo scelerantem sanguine fauces [761]). She has to purge her eyes of the sight in the Elissos river at Eleusis (where we visited on the Greek trip). There will be no immortality for him, thass-fo-sho.



All this may seem a little adolescent on my part and perhaps a tad distressingly, um erk, male? Perhaps a little guilty as charged but I find this exciting writing because the whole epic is not over the top in this way. This rather is an extreme moment that most assuredly hooks into one of his broader concerns: an exploration of the limits of what constitutes a human. It is lively writing that most assuredly has a redeeming and serious purpose!

(I have not checked the Latin passage for accuracy--- let me know if you find anything too egregious.)

Road Trip to Masterton! [UPDATED with NJ's help]

Last night, myself, TRH and NJ hopped in the car and drove to Masterton to see a recital by two young singers (a mezzo and tenor) who also happen to be married to one another. We left about 4 and stopped for dinner on the way up at a place called the Tin Hut and had a delightful dinner. It is owned by one M, a companionable and good-looking man. We also met his new boyfriend, G, who came out not more than a year or so ago. G is from the area and was married for years and pretty damn macho. He now really reads as a handsome gay man and his life change has been giving his rugby buddies something to think about. Evidently, he has had at least one rather in depth conversation with one of these said buddies... and he is like, "you have got to check this out, then" to the guy. But, anyway, I digress.

Right! After dinner, the concert:

The two singers (in their late 20s both) are Anna Pierard (You can visit her here.) and Jose Aparicio. They are both highly attractive people who also sing very well. They both were mighty talented and had an excellent pianist backing them up. Anna excelled at Rossini's quick coloratura. We had Cruda Sorte [Italiana] and Non piu mesta [Cenerentola] both excellently done. Super duper. Consider those calling cards delivered! Hopefully NZOpera had someone in the audience. Jose sang some Neapolitan songs to perfection. One in particular "A vuchella" by Tosti was positively lascivious. He is one good looking man and so his sexxxxxy delivery of the song (which was nonetheless, I stress, musically spot-on) was...um...real; one could have almost blushed, and that is a good thing.

Before back to praise, let me note that Anna was a little less successful with the Seguidilla from Carmen. I want a little more opulence in the lower register and the final notes were muffed slightly. Jose presented a very difficult aria from Donizetti's Il Duc D'Alba "Angelo Casto e Bel" which demands an easier way with the upper notes than he was able to muster at this point in the program (it was nearly at the end).

But with these reservations noted, I just have to say what a pleasure this was. This was singing that was passionate and accurate. Jose had the wide-eyed innocence of Nemorino down. Though, interestingly, he gave a wry introduction in which he allowed for an ironic recpetion for the aria [and signalled that he takes such a stance toward the character] but he sang the aria completely in character--- and what a difference from the lecherous sexxxy macho we had earlier in the program! Anna presented a beautiful O Mon Fenand [La Favourite] fitted out with a smooth and passionate line in the Cavatina and a forthright sense of drama in the more angular and declamatory cabaletta.

They also sang together. Offering up to complete the program a passionate and totally convincing duet from La Favourite and opening with the [intriguingly chromatic] Habanera by Pauline Viardot. My favourite moment of the evening was the Cherry Duet from L'Amico Fritz. In this duet a batchelor falls in love late in life and finally finds what he is looking for. They were so sweet together and Mascagni's writing is gorgeous. There is moment when Fritz realizes that he has found what he is looking for. It is there in the orchestra and that wise rake Jose knew it and showed this character coming to the realization that he was in love. [As I write this, I am reminded of the man coming out late in life back where we had dinner...]. I hope to hear more of these singers. They sing well and can act. I require the first and am grateful for the second when it is possible. This was a pleasure.

Shameless Self-Promotion...

...cuz if I am not shameless about this, there may be nothing shameless going on and that would be shame.

Right!

I wrote a chapter in this book:



And it won an award and, o gioia inexprimabile, the Vice-Chancellor noticed.

!

!!

Here is url of the announcement (I am on the first page).

(My narcissism is alive and well. I know you are relieved.)

Pohutukawa Trees

Every year around Christmas in Wellington the Pohutukawa trees bloom. They are sometimes called "Christmas-Tree Trees” for reasons that will be pretty obvious when you look at the pictures. They are coming into spectacular bloom right now, however. They are late. The reason for this is that summer has been quite slow in bringing on the heat the pushes the blooms out (and in fact we are still waiting for the summer weather to set in for real-- still). In any case, they will remind North Americans of the bottle brush trees. But they can grow much bigger and they come in all sizes. They are all over town! Here are some pictures of them. Enjoy:

Mas y mas de dem High Notes (Episode Three: E-Flat Discovered!!)

Well it turns out that the spot in I Puritani where the soprano sings a high E flat is not at the end of the opera (which I established in miserable detail in a previous post), no, it is not there. Nor is not not there. Rather, as Chalk graciously pointed out in the comments, it occurs at the end of one of Elvira's rockem-sockem arias, Vien Diletto. This aria is in A flat and the high E flat makes for a nice high thrill note as the second to last note before the end of the aria. (Next time you are at La Traviata, remember that the Sempre Libera is also in A flat and that that high note [which appears to your delight or which she ducks out on to your disapointment] is likewise an E flat). Anyway here is the score, with the E flat written in [do enlarge if you are of a mind]:



As for my error, I suppose it could be worse. I mean I could have made a mistake with NORRRRRMA or mispoke on something from TRISTAN. But, all the same, THIS IS PURITANI; Puritani is no Adelson and Salvini. I hope my Bel-Canto card isn't yanked. Gonna have to do some quick talkin' and at the very least renewal for 2008 is gonna be a beyotch. I remain reliant both on your patience and yours, dear readers.

Mas de them High Notes

Now another high note on another occasion. I also mentioned Carol Vaness in the same string of comments chez Chalk [http://chalkenteros.blogspot.com/]. We saw her in William Tell in the 90’s in San Francisco. In Act 3, Mathilda (the Vaness characters) comes on in anger to stop the bad guys from roughing up Tell and his son Jemmy. It is an awesome moment. She is pissed! “Osez l’arracher de mesbras! “Osez l’arracher de mesbras!” (trans.: “Beware how my wrath thou defy! Beware how my wrath thou defy!” [trans. “I will so f--- your s--- up! “I will so f--- your s--- up!”]). You will note on the second line of three that she has a nice long note all by itself and even though it is *only* a B flat, after the agitation of the section up to this point—and the music's angular lines that index to her growing anger—it is a moment in which the soprano can shine [do click on the picture for a better view of the score, if you are of a mind):



And Carol did! She pointed an accusing finger and the gleaming B flat was all but a physical assault on the villain! Then, following the B flat, there is a run down to an A flat which Carol tinged with scornful and righteous anger. And when she arrived at the A flat the orchestra exploded with a fanfare like motif that we had been hearing since the deeply angered and all-able Mathilda had arrived. The orchestra went wild I tell you (and the dissonance Rossini put into the harmony on the third beat was just the ticket)! That, my friends, is what opera can be all about! I still hear and see this moment (as well you, dear reader, know).


[Vaness looking glamourous as Dukas' Ariane]



[Vaness as a dishy Trovatore Leonora]

[I could find no pictures of her as Mathilda singing a B flat, pointing, or otherwise engaged.]

High Notes

Now it is time to begin wrenching this blog back in the direction of opera and alienating perhaps all but two of my readers. But… erk… no pain, no gain! People!

Right!



This will be quick and dirty (but there have been and will be pictures!).

In another locale [in the comments of Marginalia—Chalk’s haunt], talk turned to a soprano who will only become more controversial as time goes on I imagine, Anna Netrebko (or Trebs, as the cognoscenti are fond of saying, or as I am fond of imagining they are fond of saying). Anyway, I have seen it mentioned that La Trebs’ high E-flat at the end of I Puritani was less than what people were hoping for. Now I always thought I Puritani ended in D. My score certainly suggests so (and you can see that I have written in the high D--also, enlarge the photo and luxuriate in the hard cool glamour of two sharps! This is ain't no cuddly warm E flat major finish, no-siree-bob.):



Now, we have a couple of options here. But let me say upfront that I think people are mistaken who think that there was a high E-flat sailing (precariously) through the hall. One option is that the edition I have is but one version; that another version has the finale up one-half step. That is possible. But it seems unlikely to me that Trebs would have wanted an E-Flat instead of a D for her last note. A D (a whole step above high C, amici mei!) would have been plenty of teh sexy—why stray into Callas Mexico City Aida 1952 (and Millo Verona [see an earlier post]) territory unnecessarily? I picture La Trebs giving a smoldering-sexy-bad-girl-diva “nyet” to that option:


“I not sing that E flat, maestro,
we do the D. Da, yes, the D.”

Another option is that La Trebs meant to sing a D but went way sharp and served up an E-Flat (which our friends with perfect pitch picked up)—but it seems that the truly intolerable and inevitable dissonance would have provoked comment from these same quarters. No, my money is that it was a D and that the end of the opera was in D and that the E flat stuff is a misconception that keeps getting quoted. These things happen. In my line of work, that most assuredly does happen. It is human nature—one cannot check all things all the time. Public service function concluded!

PS Bonus Netrebko shot! On the stairs at the MET! She didn't even change from her costume in the last act of Puritani!! She will get a definite "Da" from gents who are so inclined. DA! Teh sexxy. DA!!

Mother’s China

My husband has come into possession of a beautiful set of Spode china that had been his mother’s.














I believe the china was a wedding gift which means that it has been in the family since the 1930s. Look at these pictures of it; it is so fine:







When once this china had come into his possession, the husband worked with various “replacements” outfits to add a few large pieces and I think to extend the place settings to a greater number. It was already an awesome collection and he made it mega-awesome, or something like that. A few pieces were broken in our move to New Zealand and those have now been replaced.



Anyway on his recent trip to Los Angeles, he had occasion to spend some time with one of his nephews and his wife (and their new baby). While with them, he mentioned something to them that I imagine he has been thinking of for a while. He promised them this gorgeous china when he passes on. There are a fair number of years between our ages and he will most likely pre-decease me (though hopefully a good number of years in the future). The idea is that I will send them the china at some point in the sad days that follow his departure from this world.

I think this is a lovely idea for a number of reasons. It is clearly his wish that they have this china—that is reason enough. And if he wants them to have it at that time, I think it is way for him to show his love for them one of the last chances he has (and trust me they a lovely, I love them too [his other nephews will need recognition too—that will be a happy task]). I also see an opportunity for me here. It will keep me close to them. Packing that china up will be so sad and yet so sweet. Doing it will be a last chance for me to show my love for him too.

Possessions and the rest can inadvertently or by design drive us apart all too often. This is one of those rare moments when they can pull us together. I plan to take advantage.

Returning to New Zealand today

Will be on the way to the airport by 5 PM on Tuesday, will land at about 5 AM on Thursday. Wednesday will be lost forever. See you back in NZ soon.

Pianists

As I imagined would happen, I have received any number of interesting suggestions from my devoted and managable readership.

The piano is an instrument that has been central to music making since it was invented in the 18th century. My question not surprisingly has brought up names that cross all kinds of generic boundaries. What I have been told follows.

BMS is a woman of many considered opinions. She suggests Roy Bittan from Bruce Springsteen's E-Street Band. I do not know much of this Bittan man, as Bruce has generally not generally been my cup of tea (though I do recall that he looks good in jeans). Maybe she can give us a couple of songs in the comments or email them to me--- if she has time? In further communication, she offered up Carole King and Christine McVie. I quote here her able prose [take it away Bar-ba-ra!]:

[My most excellent brother, I also suggest Carole King] for the magnificent way she can evoke a mood in her playing. "So far away", "Smackwater Jack", and "Jazzman" are just a few of the tunes where she created a feeling that was either ethereal (“So far away”), rascally (“Smackwater Jack”) and buoyant (“Jazzman”). Plus, she and her former husband Gerry Goffin were responsible for some seminal tunes in the 60's (“Up on a Roof”, for one [Mark: ooh I like that song-- there was a really good disco remake of it with Viola Wills]), and Carole King had the best selling album of all time (for a while, at least) with Tapestry, a real accomplishment for anyone, especially a woman in the male-dominated realm of rock n' roll in the 70's [Mark: amen, sistah!]. So Carole King is a keeper for me. My second place would go to Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac - a sentimental favorite since Fleetwood Mac is and always will be my favorite band and comfort music. Christine McVie wrote “Songbird”, a classic (and, by the way, the song that was the tune to which Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had their first dance at their recent nuptials [Mark: been hitting the People Magazine again, haven’t we then.]).

BMS further notes that she has recently been charmed by the promising playing of one three-year old that goes by the name of RS.

Other suggestions from others about other pianists:

Writing to me from NZ, AS offered the following:

I'm going to have to go with Dave Brubeck. It's true that there are plenty other Jazz artists offering competition for him as "greatest jazz musician ever", but in the category of jazz piano, I think only Thelonius Monk is putting up much of a fight. I suspect that you were thinking of classical pianists; well Dave has done a lot of classical music, including a whole album a couple of years ago... it's just that there has been some interpretation. :) [Mark: I wonder what Dave did. He took some liberties did he? Maybe AS can let us know what the album and repertoire were?] If you're going to be strict [Mark: who me?], it'll be George Gershwin. From the scratchy recording I heard I couldn't actually tell if he was any good [Mark: AS and his iconoclastic streak!], but he had a few other talents [Mark: hmm] which recommend him over some other concert pianists.

PMN suggests Erroll Garner (1921-1977). He was of the jazz era for the most part and “interpreted the instrument like no other”. PMN suggest that you listen to “Misty” and I would concur-- that is truly excellent playing. ("Play Misty for me...and for yourself.")

Heading in a classical direction, my mom has had recent experience of Lang Lang: “He performs beautifully and has an incredible stage presence as well. In fact, I am listening to work on his web site as I write this letter. http://www.langlang.com/.” And I would have to agree about Lang Lang. I have seen him play and he is a pianist with charisma and his interpretations are well done. I recall being pleased by his Rachmaninoff second with the LA Phil. Now head over to that website. We will be here when you get back.

The inimitable, the original, the truly, oh yes, one and only CR (a former colleague and pianist himself) when interviewed recently offered up Benno Moiseiwitsch (1890 - 1963).



CR noted that Moiseiwitsch displayed to an unsurpassed degree elegance and power (without banging) in his playing. I need to hear more of him. I have heard him but CR’s opinion of him has flagged him for me now. I will be listening more when I get back to NZ. I hope that we have this particular recording in stock at home:



We might. If we don’t, we may want to bring about an alteration to this state of affairs. Oh yes. CR also recommends Rachmaninoff himself as a pianist. CR says that Rachmaninoff’s playing can make your hair stand on end. I would concur with this too. Rachmaninoff is capable of very exciting playing. I would also add that his playing is characterized by an almost classical sense of control amid all the passion-- passion and control, two things that can be at odds are placed into a mutually beneficial relationship in Rachmaninoff’s playing (as they are in his compositions, I mean, people!, the second symphony, the second concerto, the f!@#ing third concerto, etc. etc. kai ta loipa kai ta loipa).

TRH weighs in with Artur Schnabel who played mid-twentieth century. TRH is especially grateful for Schnabel’s championing of Schubert’s piano music and for his definitive playing of the Beethoven sonatas. And, as so often, TRH is correct. If you are interested in Beethoven’s or Schubert’s piano music, you need to check out Schnabel. Another Artur was the subject of another suggestion from TRH-- this time Artur Rubenstein and this time for Chopin playing. Again, TRH is not steering you wrong. Go forth and hearken unto Schnabel and Rubenstein.

For my part, I like lots of different pianists. In the realm of the so-called non-Classical, I have enjoyed Rodney Franklin in what might seem a bit of ephemera from the early 80’s but which in any case has given me a great deal of pleasure over the years-- a song called “The Groove.” On the classical front, a recent favourite of mine is Marc-Andre Hamelin. He is active now and he plays all these really difficult pieces from the romantic era (let’s say the 1840s to 1910s or so). You should hear him play Albeniz’s Iberia, a work which I thought Alicia de la Rocha owned. (“Um, erk, Alicia? You know that Iberia? Well, it’s a time-share now.”) Another work in which he excelled is a real piece of arcana, Alkan’s concerto without orchestra. Hamelin not only has all the notes, he also is through some sort of alchemy able to foreground the ironic self-awareness that is a distinguishing characteristic of this composer. Alkan understood composition as not merely about the creation of beautiful melodies, he also saw it as vehicle wherein he could reflect on music-making and the creation of “masterpieces” through the compositions themselves. Alkan has an irony pervasive in his compositions that is delicious (and seems postmodern) and which could not be more opposite to a composer like Chopin, to take example. One cannot listen to Alkan in the same way that one listens to Chopin or play him in the same way. Hamelin understands this and, well, I have been most assuredly pleased!

Thanks to all for all the help with this post.

A trip to the Getty Museum in LA

Had some friends out from New York today. We took them to the Bel Air Hotel for breakfast and to dinner at Ivy at (on?) the Shore in Santa Monica and in between we visited the Getty Museum in LA. The campus of this museum is a beautiful place. We also saw a very nice exhibit of icons from a monastery (St. Catherine's) in Egypt and a large exhibit of American photography. No photos allowed so no photos here from these exhibits. But the Getty itself allows pictures and here are some: