--August Strindberg, Preface to A Dream Play (1902)

This spring I arrogantly went through my own self taught film school where I explored critically for the first time some of the defining works of legendary directors like Carl Dreyer, Fritz Lang, Carol Reed, Orson Welles, and Francois Truffaut, among others, many of which I have discussed and reviewed on this blog.  It seems foolish now to think I could sample all of the greats of cinema's past in just a few short months.  What I came to realize is that my film school will never end as long as I continue my love affair with movies.  For all the careful planning that went into the selection of the films I explored and searched for, sometimes it is the film that finds me before I realize I had been looking for it all this time.  Thus is the case with Ingmar Bergman's Fanny and Alexander. 

CAPTION:  Two kids lost inside Ingmar Bergman's head.

The striking similarities between Bergman's Persona (above) and Lynch's Mulholland Drive (below)

Robert Schumann

Dichterliebe, "Poet's Love," op. 48
I- XVI

Samuel Barber

Three Songs
I. Now Have I Fed and Eaten up the Rose
II. A Green Lowland of Pianos
III. O Boundless, Boundless Evening

John Duke

The Three Gothic Ballads
I. The Old King
II. The Mad Knight's Song
III. The Coward's Lament

Robert Quilter

Four Songs
I. Come away, death
II. Now sleeps the crimson petal
III. Weep you no more
IV. Believe me, if all those endearing young Charms

Samuel Barber's set of songs were filled with fantasy, and Edward Parks soothing and rich voice washed over the audience in waves of grandeur. John Duke's work was very interesting, and the second song had some jazzy interludes which I liked very much. Robert Quilter's four songs were each beautiful in their own way. The first, "Come away, death", was beautiful in a mournful way. The second, "Now sleeps the crimson petal" was touching. The third was tragically beautiful, while the fourth (and Edward Parks' grandmother's favorite song) was a sweet and beautiful waltz.

You might be wondering why I am discussing the pieces out of order. Although "Poet's Love" was the first song on the program, I wanted to save it for last because it was my favorite. But before I get to that, let me really confuse everyone by mentioning that for their encore, Mr. Park and Mr. Dickson performed "Where Is the Life That Late I Led?" from "Kiss Me Kate." The whole crowd was roaring with laughter, and Mr. Park's did a fantastic job of singing it with lots of character and charisma.

And now, on to "Poet's Love"....

"Poet's Love" by Robert Schumann is a series of poems (which are sung in German) set to music. The program included the English translation which I read through before the concert started, but I didn't keep track of the words to the verses while Edward Parks was singing. Although I don't speak German, what I found interesting was that the passion of the music spoke for itself and I was able to understand what the composer was trying to convey. I was able to understand the mood and setting of each verse, without having to read the translation while I listened (and without having to learn German either...). There were 16 verses, as stated in the program listing above. Verse's one and two had a moderate tempi. On verse three, the tempo picked up a bit. Verse five had a faster tempo than the verses before it, and started to create more tension in the music. Verse six was very dark and brooding... Seven was very strong, and Edward Parks voice sounded absolutely magnificent! There had been a light steady rain since earlier in the day, but at the strongest point in the verse, the heavens opened and rain poured upon the earth with more rage than it had all day. It was incredible... Verse nine was a lovely waltz and was followed by verse ten, which was sorrowful and breathtakingly poignant. There was so much emotion and depth in Mr. Parks voice that one couldn't help but be moved. Twelve was sweet, almost like a lullaby. Verses thirteen and fourteen floated past quickly, which brought us to verse fifteen. It was whimsical and jolly, and as Edward Parks sang that particular verse, the sun came shining forth from behind the storm ridden clouds. I couldn't believe how the weather was mimicking the music... It was positively otherwordly. Speaking of otherworldly, that's exactly what the last verse was. Both piano and voice were full of power, and there was an almost God-like quality in the musical message. I had kept notes during the piece and when I looked back at them over intermission to compare them to the translation, I found that what I re-read in the translation was exactly what had been portrayed to me through the music itself. Some examples for you:

Remember how I said verse seven was the strongest? Here's what Mr. Park's was singing:

I'll not complain, even if my heart should break.
Love lost forever! I'll not complain.
Though you beam in diamond splendor,
No light falls into the night within your heart.

This I have long known, I saw you in a dream,
And saw the night in your heart,
and saw the serpent gnawing on your heart.
I saw, my love, how very miserable you are.

And verse ten being sorrowful and poignant? Hmmm...

When I hear the sound of the song
That my sweetheart once sang,
My breast nearly explodes
from the wild rush of pain.

I am driven by a dark longing
up into the forest heights,
There, my overwhelming pain
dissolves in tears.

Verse fifteen being whimsical?

From ancient tales is beckons
me forth with a white hand,
And there is singing and ringing
From a magic land:

Oh! that land of bliss,
That I often see my dream,
But when the sun rises,
Evaporates like sea-foam.

And lastly, the God-like quality in the music of verse sixteen:

The old, evil songs,
The dreams, bad and annoying,
Let us now bury them,
Fetch a large coffin.

Do you know why the casket
must be so large and heavy?
I shall lay also my love
and my pain in it.

"Poet's Love" is a true masterpiece by Schumann, and a triumph among music. Music is the only one truly universal language, for it speaks to everyone, and to everyone it speaks something which they can understand. Top that, English.

Zoku Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei - ep01

Träumerei

Träumerei (Dreaming) is part of Kinderszenen ("Scenes From Childhood"), Opus 15, by Robert Schumann, a set of thirteen pieces of music for piano written in 1838. Träumerei is one of Schumann's best known pieces.

Robert Schumann (1810-1856)

Robert Schumann,(June 8, 1810 – July 29, 1856) was a German composer, aesthete and influential music critic. He is one of the most famous Romantic composers of the 19th century.

Traumerei and Soviet History

Traumerei was what was played across the Soviet Union when Germany surrendered in 1945. It was sort of adopted by the Russian people as sort of a "theme song" for the suffering inflicted on their country during World War II. The suffering continued under the communists, of course. The Soviet Union fell shortly after.

This music is usually performed during the minutes of silence or near the Eternal Flame. (Piskaryov Memorial in St. Peterburg / Mamayev Hill Memorial in Volgograd (Stalingrad))

I wish to correct myself somewhat, Brahms deserves an apology.  He could write remarkable music.  His setting of the Paul Johann Ludwig von Heyse  poem 'Sonntag'  is a song of such unabashed beauty and affection (as opposed to affectation, hello Schumann, we'll get to you in a minute) that you can't help but wish he had written more Lieder and less orchestral and chamber music.  I think my issue with SO much orchestral and instrumental music is 'what' the music is about.  The concert last week was the Brahms followed by the Schostakovich. About the latter, one can have no doubt what the composer is trying to get at.  If you know even a little about the history of Russia at the time and what Schostakovich was going through, it becomes clear what the piece is about.  After the piece finished, you KNOW.  

After the Brahms, I felt like saying;

'What's your point?'

Perhaps this is why the Lieder appeal to me, the poem's words tell you (more or less) WHAT the music is about, and therefore, gives the audience a much needed piece of information.  Certain  composers  (Mahler, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Strauss, Zemlinsky, Berg, Schoenberg...) write in a way that one knows IMMEDIATELY  what is being said, even if there are no words to tell us what to expect, although a well thought of Symphony title doesn't go astray (The Titan, Pathetique, Pastorale) and can provide one with a clue.

And in the Brahms Piano Concerto no. 1, I had NO idea what the piece was about. To me, it was nondescript and therefore, impossible for me to latch onto in anything other than a positive appraisal of the skill of the players.  I literally missed the point.  And with a conductor as clear and obvious as Dudamel (this is not a man who could be accused of drawing out nuance from a piece, not yet anyway), if HE can't get the point across to me, then no one can.  Given the fact that Brahms never seemed to get around to HAVING a personal life OR experiencing any real drama in his life, I'm not surprised the art he produced occasionally lacks...body.  His 'Deutsches Requiem',  his most epic (and operatic) piece is not (as I had thought) an epic outpouring of national and religious fervour.  It was inspired by the death of his mother.  This is a man with not enough happening in his life!  

Is it simply that the experience of an artist's life determines on what scale he or she's art should be produced.  Brahms had a pretty boring life so is THAT why his songs (small scale and intimate) are wonderful and his Orchestral works are merely acceptable? Reynaldo Hahn had a relatively blessed upper middle class Parisian life (along with scoring Marcel Proust as his longtime lover) and proceeds to write some of the best chansonne ever put on paper.  His large scale work has the shelf life of Yoghurt.  Wagner, on the other hand, takes part in the Dresden revolution, spends his life running from creditors, has affair after affair, artistically seduces the King of Bavaria and proceeds to write ENORMOUS scale music, BRILLIANTLY (if a little too lengthy at times). HIS small scale music...don't bother.    

So I will amend my former title from One of Those People who Doesn't Like Brahms (OOTPWDLB) to One of Those People who Doesn't Like Brahms Piano Concerto no. 1 (OOTPWDLBPCN1) until such time as someone is able to tell me what I missed, at which time I shall be all ears.  There is nothing I like better than re-hearing a piece and discovering something miraculous.

Oh I never got around to Schumann...later perhaps...

"She plays the flute too."

"I know, but the maracas are why she's my favorite."

"I prefer the one next to her. The guitarist."

"You would. How about another round?"

"Ok, but that'll do it for me. We've already had four."

"Four? This music really is intoxicating. I feel pretty spry for only two daiquiris."

"That's because we've had four apiece."

"Oh."

"Hey, I want to write about this trip, and I want to start with the music.

"Good luck. Writing about music is hard. Who was it that said 'writing about music is like dancing about architecture?'"

"I know. But I have to write about it. It's just too amazing. So, here's my idea: you ever heard of Richard Wagner?"

"Who?"

"You know. The guy with the big operas."

"Ha ha. I like that. I wonder if 'opera' is the German word for 'maraca?' Sorry. Anyway, what about him?"

"Well, a while ago he came up with this idea called Gesamtkunstwerk."

"What?"

"Gesamt ... the name doesn't matter. The point is that he had this idea of making a supreme form of art that encompassed all other arts."

"What?"

"Like his operas. You know. Think about it. They have everything. They have music of course, but they also have theater, they have dance, the have visual art in the costumes, the sets. There's literature in the story ..."

"Why are you telling me this? I was having such a good time."

"Well, look at them. Look at those girls. There it is. Wagner in Cuba. I mean, there's music. Incredible music. It's rhythmic and makes you happy, you can't help being happy. And they're singing. Who knows what they're saying, but it sounds like poetry to me. And look at them. They're beautiful. They look beautiful. They're wearing like these orange silk dresses that shimmer magnificently in the light. I mean, there's definitely an artistic component to their look. And finally - and this is the most amazing part - they're dancing. And while they're dancing they're actually making music. Do you see that? Their dancing creates music. Look at the maraca girl for example. Seriously. The movement she's making with the maracas is a dance, but it's also percussion for the music. The drummer girl is doing the same thing. What an amazing thing. I'm speechless. What do you think?"

"Here's what I think. You want to write about Cuban music? You write about those women and the way they make you feel. Write about their svelte ... you know. Write about how their whole side of the bar oozes with - as a good friend of mine said once - a 'sexual vitality that eats you alive.' That's stuff worth reading. But please, whatever you do, leave Wagner out of it."

      Los compositores mueren de maneras peculiares. Lully golpeó su dedo del pie tan fuerte con su bastón para dirigir que se le gangrenó. A Alkan no lo mató una estantería, como cuenta la leyenda, sino un paragüero que se le cayó encima. Granados se hundió con un barco que fue torpedeado durante la I Guerra Mundial. Webern, mientras vivía en Berlín en 1945, desobedeció el toque de queda saliendo de su casa por un cigarro y fue disparado.

      El pobre Robert Shumann halló un destino mucho, mucho peor que los anteriores. Su enfermedad terminal -descrita con cruel detalle en la biografía de John Worthen- le sometió a una tortura tan extrema que difícilmente puedes soportar pasar las páginas.

      Schumann siempre será un personaje complicado de valorar. Una vez aclamó al joven Frédéric Chopin con las palabras: "Para quitarse el sombrero, señores, un genio!". Y él mismo era también un genio, pero no de la variedad por la que se arrojan sombreros.

      Hay muchas piezas de Schumann en las cuales el espíritu de la inspiración desciende y entonces revolotea, a veces durante unos pocos segundos. Hay pasajes en la la 1ª Sonata para Piano donde el solista suena como si hubiera sufrido un lapso de memoria y estuviera improvisando frenéticamente; incluso en obras maestras como el Concierto para Piano parte de la emoción procede del sentimiento de que el compositor puede perder el control de su material en cualquier momento.

      Los estudiosos han supuesto tradicionalmente que la irregularidad en la producción de Schumann refleja el progreso de una lenta enfermedad mental que le condujo a la muerte en un manicomio a la edad de 46 en 1856. Worthen, un profesor de la Nottingham University, está decidido a eliminar el diagnóstico de locura, y reemplazarlo por uno de bebida desmesurada y sífilis. De hecho, este es el propósito de esta biografía bien escrita. "Este es un libro sobre la vida que llevó Schumann, no sobre la música que escribió".

      No bromea sobre dejar la música a un lado: la composición del milagroso Quinteto para Piano es tratada de paso, como si la música fuera uno de los hobbies de Schumann. En comparación, apenas ni una defecación queda sin registrar.

      "Schumann había tenido hemorroides en Dorpat, en febrero [1844] y el extreñimiento y las hemorroides hacen un mal juego juntas". Gracias profesor. ¿Podría eso explicar la cualidad algo tensa de la escritura de Schumann en la época?

       La opinión ortodoxa nos dice que incluso las creaciones adolescentes del compositor muestran signos de un maníaco-depresivo. Worthen encuentra otra explicación en los apuntes del diario de Schumann en sus años de estudiante en Leipzig: "resaca", "resaca espantosa", "resaca terrible", "resaca total", "resaca realmente atroz", "martillo de hierro en mi cabeza", "peor resaca de mi vida, como si me estuviese muriendo".

      La evidencia está menos clara respecto a los síntomas que llevaron al Schumann de mediana edad a intentar ahogarse en el Rin poco antes de ser enviado al manicomio. Empezó a oir música, tan maravillosa al principio que garabateó lo que los ángeles le estaban dictando; pero entonces los ángeles se volvieron demonios cuyas retorcidas melodías hicieron a Schumann gritar de dolor.

      En el asilo, las voces le dijeron que estaba navegando el mar Ártico; le persuadieron de jugar al dominó sin cesar y de hacer listas de ciudades y ríos. Sus manos se movían sobre las teclas del piano entre espasmos y sacudidas. Estaba convencido de que sus doctores le daban de comer excremento.

      El intento de Worthen de demostrar que Schumann estaba sufriendo sífilis en vez de esquizofrenia va demasiado lejos. Me recordó a una biografía del rey George III que sostenía que éste sufría porfiria y por lo tanto no estaba loco. ¿Ah no? Pensaba que si terminas estrechando la mano con los árboles (como el rey) o discutiendo con ángeles (como Schumann) entonces estás chiflado, sea cual sea la causa.

      Además, la creencia de Worthen de que Schumann estaba cuerdo hasta la década de 1850 centra al menos su atención en las obras de esos últimos años -en particular el mal tratado Concierto para Violín, una de las músicas más inquietantes y profundas jamás escritas.

      Para Worthern, el espectral temblor del solista es simplemente una característica del estilo maduro de Schumann. Pero reto a cualquiera con una mente abierta a escucharlo y no darse cuenta de que algo va a salir horriblemente mal.

Damian Thompson reviews Robert Schumann: Life and Death of a Musician by John Worthen

He manifestat moltes vegades la prevenció i reticència als liederabend d'un diumenge a las 5 de la tarda a la sala gran de Liceu.

Avui la cosa es preveia dura, però dura de veritat. Debutava al Liceu el baix holandès Robert Holl, amb prestigiosa carrera al darrera i amb notables prestacions en el Bayreuth dels darrers anys. El programa escollit no tenia cap concessió al públic del diumenge tarda, mes avesat a les grans explosions líriques que a les sessions introspectives al món del lied. A la primera part el Liderekreis de Robert Schumann i a la segona la Suite sobre poemes de Buonarroti de Dmitri Xostakóvitx.

Ja al inici, quan Robert Holl ha obert la boca per atacar "In der Fremde" ens hem adonat de la bellesa sonora de la veu rodona i mòrbida. Una capacitat inusitada per modular, per apianar i dominar el instrument a plaer. Algun so ha quedat una mica endarrere i alguna fixació, sobretot al inici, quan la veu no estava encara escalfada del tot, han embrutat una miqueta de res, una interpretació molt intimista i sentida. Jo creia que seria un recital avorrit i a la mitja part, amb tothom que he parlat coincidíem amb el mateix, renoi quin cantant més bo.

A la segona part ens esperava una immersió abismal als terrenys més profunds del lied amb unes cançons que no havia escoltat mai de Dmitri Xostakóvitx. 11 cançons terribles, pessimistes i fins hi tot us diria que depriments amb títols que cada vegada que s'anunciaven en el sobretitulat del escenari feia esgarrifar, Mati, Amor, Separació, Ràbia, Dante (aquesta absolutament sensacional) L'exiliat, Creació, Nit, Mort, Inmortalitat.

El que ens ha fet Robert Holl amb aquest cicle ha estat una lliçó de cant, de vivència i de creació musical extraordinària. Jo crec que ha dominat fins hi tot, el impuls vital del públic, que malgrat la tisi habitual, ha estat més atent i concentrat que de costum, assolint moments d’extraordinària comunió en pauses i silencis, impensables amb altres cantants. Mèrit indiscutible d'una interpretació sincera fins el moll de l'ós, viscuda i intensa. Holl, ha fet amb la veu el que ha volgut i mentre que a la primera part ha dominat més el color baix baritonal, en la segona part ha estat una veu de baix total i sobretot de baix eslau. No conec el rus, però allò sonava a rus de tota la vida.

El èxit ha estat notable, però era obvi que allò no era l'èxit d'un cantant mediàtic, amb bravos, paperets i mostres d'arrauxada entrega. Ha estat un èxit rotund d'un cantant immens amb un públic madur, atent i respectuós amb una obra i un intèrpret excepcional.

Ha fet dos bisos, preciosos tots dos. La primera cançó escrita per Mussorksky i una cançó de Txaikovsky.

Mereix un capítol a part el pianista Oleg Maisenberg, que amb una figura extraordinàriament inquietant ha tocat en completa comunió amb el cantant. Amb Schumann, intimista, introvertit, romàntic i sempre elegant. Amb Xostakóvitx ha fet sonar el piano com ha volgut, amb uns pianíssims i uns forte espectaculars, amb una tècnica, un dramatisme i lirisme alhora, colpidors.

Fantàstic concert aquesta tarda al Liceu, és clar que la sala mostrava molts buits, moltes desercions del públic habitual, que ha fet bé en no venir, s’haguessin posat malalts i haguessin inquietat a la resta de públic, que repeteixo, malgrat els estossecs de rigor, ha mostrat una maduresa sorprenent.

Espero a Robert Holl en una òpera

ACTUALITZACIÓ:

• Tracks 3,4 i 5 amb problemes tècnics
  
• Retransmissió Radio Clásica (RN2) (Gràcies Vianant)

Avui us deixo un cant d'esperança en un dia per reflexionar:

"Zwölf Lieder" (Opus 35)

Poema de Andreas Justinus Kerner
Música de Robert Schumann

Stille Tränen

Du bist vom Schlaf erstanden
Und wandelst durch die Au.
Da liegt ob allen Landen
Der Himmel wunderbar.

So lang du ohne Sorgen
Geschlummert schmerzenlos,
Der Himmel bis zum Morgen
Viel Tränen niedergoß.

In stillen Nächten weinet
Oft mancher aus den Schmerz,
Und morgens dann ihr meinet,
Stets fröhlich sei sein Herz.

Llàgrimes Secretes

T'has despertat del son
i camines pels camps.
Damunt de l'ampla terra
el cel és meravellós.

Mentre dormies
sense penes ni inquietuds,
el cel, fins arribar el matí,
ha vessat moltes llàgrimes.

En les nits tranquil.les
són molts els que ploren de pena,
però al matí us pensaríeu
que el seu cor està sempre content.

[audio http://ximo.wordpress.com/files/2008/03/stille-tranen-schumann-hampson.mp3]

• Thomas Hampson, baríton - Geoffrey Parsons, piano

I truly love this work. Despite the fact that it is so often critisised as being disjointed and awkward (and I disagree vehemently!) Andsnes manages to make it sound like a sonata should; that is a long essay or novella on his musical subject. The sonata begins with what Schumann called a fandango, but unlike the introductions of Haydn other classical period composers, it is no short introduction but a short piece by itself – though I would not extract it and play it as such. It has its own discrete beginning and end, and that is one of the main differences between Schumann's essay in sonata form and what we expect from the classical form.

The work was written in the time period between 1837-1838 along with Carnival, the Davidsbundlertänze, Kreisleriana, the G minor sonata and the Fantasy which Andsnes plays on this recording as well. The works all, by Schumann's own words, have one subject; Clara Wieck, his intended bride. It is likely not an overstatement to say that there has never been such an outpouring of love, passion and friendship directed at one person in music! Everything is there, all his thoughts, innermost feelings—the things most of us keep hidden deep inside. There is a kind of clear, incisive and overwhelming honesty in Robert Schumann's writing. It rushes over you like the ocean's waves as the tide does as it rushes towarads high tide. You hear the ebb and flow, the ever-rising tide and you know you will soon be enveloped in it. You do not run in fear, you wait for it to happen—enjoy, love it, and defend it. Defend it because it has its enemies—Philistines as Schumann called them. This sonata has not had such a sympathetic exponent in a long while.

Maurizio Pollini's performance on Deutsche Gramophon is usualy thought of as the best performance available (and it is still in the catalogue, should you like his cool, cerebral performances), however, his is a cerebral reading of this work and it fails ultimately because it misses the direct appeal to the poet's inner feelings which characterize the romantic poets and writers of this period. You will not find Ritter Gluck sitting quietly beside you, nor will you find the flights of fantasy contained in E.T.A. Hoffmann's Fantasiestücke. This is where Lief Ove Andsnes succeeds brilliantly, and Pollini fails.
The second movement of the f sharp minor sonata is an almost literal translation of a song Schumann wrote some years eariler “An Anna”. Andsnes plays it exquisitely, evevn bettter than the Arrau recording of it I owned on vinyl.

The Scherzo is where Mr. Andsnes shines. The long passages where Schumann's writing is obviously a dialogue between the two hands, are particularly convincing. There is a real dialogue happening in Andsnes' playing. He doesn't merely play the notes, he imbues them with meaning just as Schumann thought the performer should do. Just listen to the recitative-type Intermezzo which interrupts the Scherzo to hear an absolutely convicing reading of this music.

The transition into the last movement can be problematic, but Andsnes is completely convincing here to. The recitative which again interrupts the last movement is convincing in Mr. Andsnes hands, he makes this movement sound as if it really belongs to the work as a whole. One wishes that more pianists would play Schumann's piano music with such sympathy and understanding.

Schumann's writing is often shocking in the way it moves from idea to idea, sometimes hardly finishing before beginning another—leaving the listener cut off in mid-sentence from the idea. This was not accidental. It surely is another sign of Schumann's fascination with Hoffmann's writing and ideas about the Romantic movement's rejection of the stale, but at that time, unenlightened enlightenment ideals. Andsnes does not shy away from these phrases even when they seem to fly off past the end, as if cut off in mid-sentence. This is most obvious in the second movement of the Fantasy. This is a treacherous movement for any pianist, not just the legendary ending, but each phrase needs careful calculation so as not to miscalculate the virtuoso ending Schumann devised. This is one case where a note perfect ending is quite serendipitous! It is almost impossible to play perfecftly in a live performance. All those not perfect perfromances you hear on CD have had multiple takes or have been edited!

Andsnes plays this movement as well as any I've heard and if this were a live performance I'd be tempted to leap to my feet applauding. The two works on this CD make an intersting pair. One, the Fantasy, Schumann called a “deep lament for Clara..” expecting that he would never marry her. The other, Kreisleriana, written after Clara's acceptance but before the acutal wedding, Schumann writes to Clara “.. you will hear yourself in every bar ...”. And that you will for Schumann used the theme from Nocturne from Clara Weick's own composition “Soirées Musicales” as the theme for the first movement. With it, he creates magic. The movement is a fascinating study in almost but not quite being in C major. He withholds any resolution to the tonic key until the very last chord. By then you ache to hear it.

You won't go wrong choosing Andsnes version of these two masterpeices. I will most certainly be looking for more of Andsnes Schumannn recordings. He has an intrisic understanding of this composer.