Classical Music (Want something new?)

I was quite fortunate in that my parents loved classical music. They treated me to live performances when I was very young. Since we lived in Palo Alto and most of the music then was in San Francisco, this was a highly commendable effort of my folks to drag me around at age five and up, mostly to the venerable War Memorial Opera House. My interest matured when I had have had full years of music appreciation in both prep school and college. I say all this because it is difficult for me to understand why the appeal of clasical music is not broader or at least more broadly taught these days. So, it is with enthusiasm that I see someone taking on the task of providing an introductory syllabus for the budding afficiando of La Scena Musicale.



A new spin Alternatives suggested to woo listeners to classical music

By Andrew Adler aadler@courier-journal.com

I'm going to take a nontraditional approach to what has often been a very traditional kind of story. I want to talk about what sort of recordings could entice, beguile and otherwise persuade a relative newcomer to classical music to seek more of the form that so many of us love and cherish.
The usual strategy would be to lay out a collection of CDs, with plenty of Beethoven and Mozart symphonies, sonatas by Schubert and Schumann, a smattering of Tchaikovsky here, Wagner there. In other words, rope new listeners with lots of stuff that they may have heard, or at least heard of. Call it the power of the standard and familiar.


What would happen if instead of sticking to all this tried and true stuff, I took a kind of anti-normal take on this whole business? I thought it would be fun to pick out pieces and recordings that wouldn't exactly be the typical introductions we make to classical music. I'm not trying to be arbitrary, or contrary simply for the sake of being contrary. All of these suggest that classical music neophytes can be served just as well with material that might be called alternative as they can with the absolute mainstream.
Let's begin with a B. Not B as in Bach, Beethoven or Brahms. But B as in Berwald. Franz Berwald was a Swedish composer who lived from 1796 until 1868 and who wrote quite a bit of music covering quite a number of genres. He was a Romanticist in the best sense of that term: free in his melodies, rhythms and harmonies, consistently imaginative and fresh. His best-known work is the Symphony No. 3, called "Singuliere," a fine score that deserves far more recognition than it usually gets. You want great tunes? It has them. You want romanticism without syrupy excess? Here's your puppy.
There are a fair number of recordings of this work, but the one I have on my shelf features the Stockholm Philharmonic from 1962 led by Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt, himself a sadly neglected, first-caliber conductor. (Accord 149150)
John Corigliano certainly must be counted as among the most significant composers of the last 20 or 30 years. One of his best large-scale works is his Concerto for piano and orchestra. You'd have to go a long way to find a better account of that work than the 1994 recording by the Louisville Orchestra under its then-music director, Lawrence Leighton Smith.
The pianist is James Tocco. The combination of pianist, conductor and orchestra provides the kind of visceral excitement that makes you want to listen to the piece over and over again. The First Edition recordings CD also includes five of Corigliano's shorter scores, most notably his "Gazebo Dances." (LCD008)
Not too many years ago, Louisville audiences were fortunate enough to hear the Louisville Orchestra perform a concert featuring the music of American composer Michael Daugherty, who is celebrated for his musical translations of such pop icons as Marilyn Monroe and, in this 1996 Argo recording by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra under David Zinman, Superman. Daugherty's five movement "Metropolis Symphony" bears such titles as "Lex," "Krypton," "Oh Lois! " and my favorite, "Red Cape Tango." It's great fun, but it's also extremely well-crafted music: distinctly American with an always tantalizing edge. (ARGO 452 103-2)
Well, I said I wasn't going to give you any Bach, but I simply couldn't resist sticking at least one disc of Johann Sebastian in this round up. It's a CD featuring George Ritchie, one of the very finest organists I've ever had the pleasure of hearing, performing a collection of works under the heading of "German Virtuosity & Italian Elegance." Two performances stand out: those of the toccata and fugue in F Major, BWV 540; and the Fantasy and Fugue in G minor, BWV 542. It's no exaggeration to call these accounts stupendous. Played over an audio system with a good subwoofer, the effect is remarkably powerful. (RAVEN OAR-250)
You may be able to tell that I love big symphony orchestras playing equally big symphonies. One of my absolute favorites is Anton Bruckner's Symphony No. 8 in C minor, which for me is a score that approaches transcendental satisfactions.
Now, some people complain that Bruckner goes on for too long and is far too thick. I could not disagree more vehemently. For me, this composer is at least as essential as Mahler in the late romantic scheme of things, and in a work like the Eighth Symphony, occupies a universe all his own.
There are many recordings of this work, but in a modern stereo version the account by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra under Herbert von Karajan is especially distinguished. This is monumentality in the best sense, a melding of performance and score that moves from the affecting to the genuinely spiritual. (Deutsche Grammophon 427 611-2)
Henry Purcell, the extraordinary English composer who lived from 1659 to 1695, is best known for his opera "Dido and Aeneas." But the music he wrote in honor of Queen Mary often is at least as compelling, and in a work like the birthday ode "Come, ye sons of Art," the vocal glories are unmatched.
A recent EMI Classics CD offers a generous presentation of Purcell's Queen Mary tributes, performed by the Choir of Kings College, Cambridge and the Academy of Ancient Music, all conducted by Stephen Cleobury. Call it an example of authentic performance practiced without a hint of stuffiness. (EMI 0946 3 44438 2)
Merely mentioning the name Arnold Schoenberg can strike fear and trembling into listeners who associate that composer with ear-bending, atonal rigors to be endured, not enjoyed. I could debate that notion, but I won't do that now.
Instead, I'm going to hold up one of Schoenberg's earliest substantial works: "Gurrelieder," a gigantic work for very large orchestra, chorus, six vocal soloists and narrator. I first encountered a complete "Gurrelieder" in 1991, when Zubin Mehta conducted it as his farewell program as music director of the New York Philharmonic.
No recording can adequately reproduce the effect of a live performance, when the scale of sound coming off the stage can literally hurl you back in your seat. Still, the 1990 effort conducted by Ricardo Chailly captures a fair proportion of this astounding creation. Remember, this is not the steely 12-tone mature Schoenberg, but the lushly indulgent work of the young man steeped in the world of Mahler and his circle. (DECCA/London 430 321-2)