Study Music 17 October

Through a range of links I clicked on Spotify to follow random curiosities I landed on an album of music for clarinet performed by Evgeni Petrov. Before getting to the music, I have to say it was not his album alone; every piece features Tatiana Tarasevich on piano. I know there's a view that the piano part is "accompaniment" but the works do not work without it. I've seen albums that acknowledge the "accompanist" on the cover and frame them as duos, and I think that is a more accurate representation than this -

The album was bookended by Bizet's Carmen, which sounds strange but really isn't. The first piece is Fantasie Brilliant on the themes of the opera Carmen by Bizet, a long title, and was arranged by Francois Borne. It's a lovely trip through all the themes, as it says, and reminds me of Liszt rewriting whole operas and symphonies for solo piano concert pieces. At the other end is Alexander Rosenblatt's version with the slightly shorter title Fantasie on the themes from the opera Carmen by Bizet. It's short and livelier too and a great way to round off the album.

Camille Saint-Saens' clarinet sonata is the meat in the sandwich. I don't know that it's going to become a favourite of mine but it does demonstrate the highs and lows of the clarinet as it goes through most, if not all, of its register. The slow movement didn't quite do it for me, but the two allegros were fun.

As condiments there were also some other pieces. Debussy's Premiere rhaspsodie which was indeed rhapsodic and a good listen; and Ravel's Pavane pour une infante defunte, arranged by Petrov himself it was still a ho-hum number for me, it's either too maudlin or just lack-lustre in my mind, although I think there are some exceptional performances of it about. Maybe it's just the typical translation of the title that puts me off: Pavane for a Dead Infant.

A final dash of spice came in the form of a miniature by Alexander Ilyinsky called Butterfly. It does indeed float and flap and dance along and, together with Rosenblatt's Carmen fantasy, was the real highlights of what is a solid, nice album, if not a humdinger.

Study Music - January 18

Having heard a bit of his clarinet quintet on ABC Classic FM on the drive to work, I decided I'd listen to Mozart's Clarinet Concerto first today. It's a long-time favourite of mine and it's been a while since I listened to the whole thing. So I did a search on Spotify to pick a version. Too many options, but I couldn't go past Sabine Meyer with the Berliner Philharmoniker conducted by Claudio Abbado. It's a 1999 recording, which I refuse to admit was 20 years ago.

The recording is crisp and clear, as is Meyer's playing which breathes life into the phrases so they aren't simply demonstrations of her virtuosity, but vivid expressions of life and joy. This empathetic playing is even more realised in the next piece on the album, Debussy's Premiere Rhapsodie. This was a new piece for me but recalled some of Debussy's more ethereal moods. Which flowed nicely to the last piece on the album Toru Takemitsu's Fantasma/Cantos, a truly ethereal piece conjuring a dreamlike world of mists and hidden creatures, wonders and dangers.

In all the album, named as a list of the works on it, is a great example of Meyer's brilliance - and that of the Berliner Phil - and a delightful listen in general. Highly recommended.

Inspired by the Fantasma/Cantos I went to Takemitsu's page on Spotify and found there are several albums of his complete piano works. I went with the most recent, recorded last year, featuring the playing of Lukas Huisman. As soon as I hit play I was in unfamiliar territory. Short phrases, rising and falling, stillness in the motion. Often when I've heard something like it there's been troubled emotion beneath the music - the despair and anger of Shostakovich for example - but here it wasn't so. Trouble yes, perhaps even sorrow at times, but only times. More, it seemed to be the vibrations of life. The rain breaking the surface of the water, the movements breaking the stillness of a body at rest. It is that moment, the one between stillness and breath, that Takemitsu's music captures. For me at any rate. I can't say it's a lulling place, quite the opposite, but not stirring either. It is a beauty of which I am completely unaware, although I recall a philosopher, Lyotard I think, saying that it is in the moment of something happening, after it hasn't but before it has past, that isolated moment of pure action and existence that is the sublime.

Dusting off some French Piano Trios

Tonight I decided to listen to an album that's been sitting on the virtual shelf collecting e-dust for a while now, the Joachim Trio's first collection of French piano trios for Naxos.

It opens with Debussy's Trio No 1 in A, which is classic Debussy, the fluidity and gentle beauty of the music is utterly captivating. The way he can carry the soul off on a journey, like a leaf floating down a river, here it eddies, here it ebbs, swirls and stills, but always moving and always enchanting. The short scherzo in the second movement is a favourite bit for me, a rollicking interruption to the sumptuousness of the first movement before a return to the slower gloss of the third. And the finale is something of them both, it has pace and grandeur, but still with the Debussy sheen.

Ravel's drama comes next, opening with the supposed 'Modere' which I take it means moderately. The first few bars are apt to that description and juxtapose intriguingly with the high finish of Debussy, but then we're launched into a hectic patter of piano with no hint of moderation. Only then, being Ravel, we are plunged back into a slow and evocative passage with the violin riding above the sombre cello and the piano adding high and low lights to fully round out what, on its own, would have to be described as a swoon. But then comes the 'Pantoum Assez vif', a high-paced rhythmic jolt reminiscent of the Assez vif movement in his String Quartet which is simply stunning.

Again there's a mood change as the third movement dives into the depths, slow and dark, as fluid as Debussy but with water more icy and the colour of Amber. From this depth we rise high as the violin turns bird and takes wing, with the cello a playful bear cub chasing it. At least, that's where my mind went listening to it this time. And it ends on an equal high to Debussy's trio.

The album finishes with Florent Schmitt's Tres lent, a short but poignant piece that shares the fluidity of the first two but lies very much in the sadder, slower end with no showy flights to lift us back to the joys of Debussy or Ravel's finale.

While all three composers share the fluidity and somewhat sumptuous feel to the music, they all have distinctive moods behind their works. What makes this recording so compelling is the way the Joachim Trio capture those moods. There's no mistaking which composer you're listening to at any point in time. They really know their stuff.

Classic 100 Music of France - Day 3

Today was light on opera, no complaints from me but there's some that will definitely still appear. Actually I expect Carmen to be a top 10, and Pearl Fishers and Lakme to be at least top 25. Interesting a couple of film scores got in too, both by Jarre. I remember the horror some musical snobs had when some soundtracks made it in last year. But hey, there's some awesome music written for movies and it deserves to be recognised.

Baroque made a few more appearances today which was good to hear. Interesting coincidence was the day opened with back to back Te Deums - Berlioz's and Charpentier's. The former I hadn't heard at all before and it was interesting to hear the way the organ and choir could achieve such a soft touch in the reflective passages. No surprises on the grand nature of the triumphant ones though.

Probably the most fun discovery for me was Offenbach's Gaite Parisiene which was a jolly romp for the most. A little bit last night of the Proms at times perhaps, but good to hear where the Can-Can came from in full. Also interesting to hear the barcarolle in context too, very different to most of the work as a whole but a pleasant respite, like a grand sunset after a busy day in Paris - or should that be a grand sunrise after a night of festivities?

Ravel's Piano Concerto for the Left Hand is a dramatic one, very different to his jazzier concerto in G. There's a gentle passage toward the end which is utterly beautiful, took my breath away. Some lovely use of other instruments too. Debussy's Cello Concerto No 1 was an intriguing one too, not quite as smooth as some of his earlier works but still a strong composition, obviously. His String Quartet on the other hand was quite astounding, a strong and innovative take on the form.

I saw a few people were waiting for Durufle's Requiem, for me it was another first. Such a dark landscape is conjured by it, desolate yet beautiful, then the Sanctus brings some sort of light and hope. And the Agnes Dei lifts us up from the shattered ground and offers solace and rest. No wonder people were waiting.

Poulenc's Organ Concerto was dramatic certainly but I can't say it was entirely to my tastes. I didn't dislike it but didn't do anything for me.

More Classic 100 Music of France Musings

So it’s getting to crunch time and I’m going to have to make some decisions. As I said in my first post I already know I’m voting for Faure’s Pavane; that was decided as soon as I knew the theme for the countdown. It’s such a beautiful piece and I’ve loved it for years, I even used it in the soundtrack to a short film I made in uni. So I not only love it, it has some personal attachment.

If I use the idea of significance I can probably also lock in Bizet’s L’Arlesienne. When I was in my late teens I bought a cheap CD with that and Carmen, because I knew of Carmen and thought it’d be good to have in a collection. But it was the Farandole from The Girl from Arles that really captured my attention and imagination. I used to play it a lot while writing my play for HSC Drama, a melodrama about a knight and an evil king. And it is great music.

Saint-Saens raises problems with this approach though. The Danse Macabre and Carnival of the Animals are both some of the earliest classical music I knew and loved, and the Organ Symphony is one of the first symphonies outside Mozart and Beethoven that I knew. I could vote for all three and be done with it, but that leaves so many others and I have this thing about spreading the love and not wanting to give one composer more than others – irrational it may be but I never claimed to be a slave to logic or reason.

Leaving those three to battle out my third pick, I have two picks left. As I said, I feel Debussy’s Afternoon of the Faun is safe to do very well without me, but there is his Reverie and Nocturnes – and I’ve just discovered his first piano trio ... I’ve got to put a Berlioz in there too of course, his flair for the dramatic really captures my fancy. I’ve got that down to two, King Lear and The Roman Carnival Overture, the latter because I’ve loved it for a long time and the latter because as well as being good in itself, it’s King Lear, a play I have a near fetish about.

Which leaves Ravel’s string quartet and tzigane, Satie’s Gnossiennes, and of course Dukas’ Sorcerer’s Apprentice – another early love – to battle it out for the last pick. And even then there’s a mass of pieces I’m rooting for from the sidelines. And new discoveries waiting for me to indulge in which possibly deserve more attention.

I may have to take Classic FM’s tweeted challenge up and see if I can convince some other people to vote too, after all it’s more fun if you vote for something. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Welcome

Hello and welcome to Wandering Capriccio, the place where I share my love for classical music. I figure a little introduction is a good way to start. First of all, I’m an enthusiast, nothing more. I have no training beyond second grade clarinet. So don’t look for in-depth analysis here or hassle me out if I call something good that is ‘technically’ not up to some standard or other. I’m into the music for its beauty, its passion, its humour or its despair.

Why this blog? Because it’s fun and I like to share. I’ll post reviews of albums – which I mostly get from classicsonline – talk about events if there are any coming up I’m attending or whatnot, and share little factoids I may come across. I guess that’s what blogs are all about after all. And of course, I’ll share some music too, with links to youtube etc.

The big event at the moment, ABC Classic FM’s Classic 100 – The Music of France. I’ve been looking forward to this since last year’s finished, and once the initial list went online I’ve been contemplating my votes. I was working on the basis that it would be like last year’s voting and I could shortlist on the site, then cull it down to 10. So imagine my surprise to learn you can’t and you’re only allowed five votes! Turmoil is all I can say my response to that has been.

With 10 I figured I was fairly safe to include all three of the Saint-Saens I wanted to vote for (Organ Symphony; Danse Macabre; Carnival of the Animals), now I’m thinking it’ll have to be one. Same for Faure, which will have to be his Pavane because it’s one of my all time favourites. So that’s two gone, three to go and oh-so many options to fill them. It’s tough, so I’m trying to think which ones people will vote for anyway, so not worry about them, but that leaves the trick of ‘what if everyone assumes that?’ Imagine a French Classics countdown with no Debussy in the top five. But I’m feeling pretty confident my favourite of his, Prelude a l'apres-midi d'un faun, will do well enough without me. So yes, I’m probably not voting for dear Claude, even in his sesquicentenary.

To make up for it here’s a version of his third Nocturne, the Sirens, conducted by Pierre Boulez.