The Night Stalin died (and Prokofiev)

http://www.nytimes.com/1989/03/05/magazine/the-night-stalin-died.html?sec=&spon=&&scp=2&sq=rostislav%20dubinsky&st=cse

Boulez, a torrent of energy and mastery, at 84

You have to impose your will - not with a hammer, but you have to be able to convince people of your point of view."

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/aug/28/classicalmusicandopera2

Conclusion of Bartok and Shostakovich Essay

One can speculate that the tragic personal experiences of the two composers, especially Shostakovich's, greatly affected the development of their compositional styles, possibly leading them both to write in a darker, more macabre style. An interesting connection between the two composers is that both had trouble getting performances of their works, largely because of government censorship. Much of Bartók and Shostakovich's music was not easily accepted at first. Bartók's famous Miraculous Mandarin was rejected because of its sexual content, and Stalin denounced Shostakovich's Lady Macbeth opera, effectively banning much of his music for a number of years. Sadly, Shostakovich and Bartók were never fully accepted in their native countries during their lives. Continuous rejection and pressure is what caused Bartók to emigrate to America in later life, and Shostakovich was so deeply disturbed by Totalitarian Russia, and the death and imprisonment of so many of his friends and family by Stalin, that he nearly committed suicide. Bartok’s Miraculous Mandarin was meant to depict the ugliness and chaos of the materialistic society in which he lived, a society marred by prostitution and violence. These and other factors contributed to Bartok’s declaration that the Miraculous Mandarin "will be hellish music if I succeed."
Although both quartets mentioned incorporate many of the same general musical elements; use of folk material, arch form, rhythmic ingenuity, each piece is distinctly Bartókian and Shostakovian respectively. The most striking difference between the two quartets is the way they end. Bartók's piece ends in a triumphant Allegro molto. Shostakovich on the other hand, ends his piece with a lamenting Largo. Though both composers were inclined to representing the darker side of human nature, in the case of these two string quartets, Shostakovich certainly “out-bluebeards” Bartók.
Works Cited
"Bartok Virtual Exhibition TOC." Zenetudom. 03 Jan. 2009 .
Bloom, Cecil. "Shostakovich and the Jews." Midstream Magazine Sept. 2006: 38-42.
Braddell, Rory. "The Mounting of a Jewel." Braddellr. 03 Jan. 2009 .
Downes, Stephen. "Eros in the Metropolis." Journal of the Royal Musical Association 125 (2000): 41-61.
Fanning, David. Shostakovich : String Quartet No. 8. Ed. Wyndham Thomas. Grand Rapids: Ashgate, Limited, 2004.
Glyde, Judith. "From Oppression to Expression." Strings 1 Oct. 2002.
Hughes, Peter. "BELA BARTOK: COMPOSER." Harvard Square Library | Unitarian Biographies | Cambridge | History | Philosophy. 03 Jan. 2009 .
Ladd, MIchael. "Bartok: SQ4 Analysis." BayArea Santa Clara Sunnyvale Mountain View Palo Alto San Francisco San Jose Silicon Valley Colocation, Co-location. 03 Jan. 2009 .
Ladd, Michael. "Formal Considerations in Bela Bartok's 4th string quartet."
"Music under Soviet rule: Eighth Quartet." Southern Illinois University Edwardsville. 03 Jan. 2009 .
Ross, Alex. The Rest Is Noise : Listening to the Twentieth Century. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2007.
Shostakovich, Dmitriaei Dmitrievich, and Solomon Volkov. Testimony : The Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich. New York: Amadeus P, 2004.

Side by Side

Some of the notable similarities between these two quartets by Bartók and Shostakovich are their usage of folk melody, their insistent, exhilarating rhythmic vitality, their harmonic complexity, and their symmetrical nature. Bartók was fond of writing in the arch form, in which material from different movements would appear and develop in unique ways. Both Shostakovich's string quartet no. 8, and Bartók's no. 4 are written in five movements, and both are very symmetrical works. Although Bartók's symmetry is more obvious, there is still an underlying arch idea at work in Shostakovich's 8th. In the final movement of the 8th quartet, Shostakovich returns to the famous DSCH theme in the German notation, (representing his name), and develops it into a full fugue. In the same way, Bartók reintroduces a theme from the first movement of the fourth quartet into the crushing finale. A remarkable coincidence is that both themes are very similar, with the first two notes being identical. (D Eb E D Db for Bartók, D, Eb C, and B for Shostakovich.)

Shostakovich

The myth of Shostakovich's String Quartet No. 8, often labeled the Dresden quartet, is that it was inspired by a tour of the fire-bombed city of Dresden in 1960. The carnage and destruction that Shostakovich witnessed apparently inspired him to write the piece in a remarkable 3 days, and he dedicated it to 'the victims of fascism and war'. Later on, scholars began to realize that the dedication to the 'victims of fascism and war' is really a coded dedication to the victims of Stalin's Soviet regime. It is also thought that Shostakovich had composed much of the piece in his head, prior to writing it down.
One of the reasons this quartet is so appealing to modern audiences, myself included, and one of Shostakovich's most popular, is due to its unyielding, almost maniacal rhythmic drive. The famous second movement, now known as the "Dance of Death", incorporates a Jewish melody turned on its head. Interruptive and shocking accents abound throughout the piece, and the melody is belted out with such super charged motion that it seems on the verge of collapse.

Me and Pierre Boulez

http://21stcenturyclassical.blogspot.com/2009/03/2-hours-with-pierre-boulez.html

William Kapell

The Golden Sound

Bartok

One of the reasons Bartók was and is so influential to composers is that he developed his own theoretical approach to composition called polymodal chromaticism. Analogous to Schoenberg's 12 tone method, Bartók created a system in which he "juxtaposes different pitch collections, based on a common pitch, to derive extensions from the basic diatonic mode" (Braddell). In his Harvard Lectures, Bartók shows how he combined the Phrygian and Lydian modes into one mode containing all 12 tones. Unlike the chordal chromaticism of the late nineteenth century, Bartók developed what he called modal chromaticism. Bartók explains that he was inspired to create this system because he discovered the basis of it within the folk melodies of Eastern Europe.
Bartók was also obsessed with the idea of symmetry, and he was fascinated with the golden mean. An example of just how meticulous Bartók was when it came to symmetry is that the total number of beats in the fourth string quartet is equal to 2584. This is the 18th number in the Fibonacci series, a rather remarkable feat! So Bartók was interested in symmetry in the aesthetic sense of the word, (symmetry that gives the feeling of proportionality and balance but is not perfectly symmetrical) as well as the mathematical sense. One of the reasons the whole tone scale, augmented chords, and diminished seventh chords, were favored by Bartók, is because of their inherent symmetries.
Bartók's usage of canons in his fourth string quartet could be seen as another example of his inclination for symmetry. One of the first appearances of symmetry in all of music is with the canon. Songs such as frère Jacque and row your boat are simple canons or rounds. Canons are symmetrical because they derive from the same material, one original theme that is repeated and varied depending on the composition. There are many types of cannons. In the quartet, Bartók uses free canons and free imitation, where there is less restriction on individual parts. He also uses the mirror canon, in which the subsequent voices imitate the initial voice in inversion.

Shostakovich

Shostakovich on the other hand, was somewhat less ambitious than Bartók when it came to collecting folk music, yet at the same time, certain folk music captivated him. Although he was an atheist and non-Jew, Shostakovich was fascinated by Jewish folk music. Shostakovich's interest in Jewish or Klezmer music probably stems from his close Jewish friend Ivan Sollertinsky. Sollertinsky was artistic director of the Leningrad Philharmonic, and when he died, Shostakovich, who conversed with Sollertinsky on all things musical, was inspired to incorporate a Jewish melody into his piano trio no. 2 in e minor. Shostakovich also felt a special connection to the plight of the Jewish people, for as he was persecuted and censored by Stalin's regime, the Jews were persecuted and censored by Hitler and Nazism. And finally, Shostakovich was apparently fascinated with Jewish music itself, apart from its social implications. According to the somewhat disputed but mostly accurate Testimony, or memoirs of Shostakovich, as related by Solomon Volkov, Shostakovich said that "Jewish music has made a most powerful impression on me. I never tire of delighting in it, it's multifaceted, it can appear to be happy while it is tragic. It's almost always laughter through tears." The ambiguity in Jewish music, of the combination of pain and suffering with happiness and exultation, is something that is very prominent in Shostakovich's work. Shostakovich himself was a very mysterious man. Shostakovich loathed Stalin and all that was communist, for it was under Stalin's orders that much of Shostakovich's music and that of his contemporaries was brandished as bourgeoisie, or formalist, and therefore considered unacceptable for the public. He was also forced to speak in Soviet code during Stalin's reign. Interestingly, nearly everything that Shostakovich said had a hint of irony in it, and he is one of the few composers able to express sarcasm in music. Though Stalin believed in and used the Leningrad Symphony for Soviet Propaganda (the Allies used it as a symbol of freedom), Shostakovich later explained that the Leningrad was really meant to satire, in a grotesque way, the dark and tragic aspects of war, totalitarianism, and racism that sprung from the soviet regime, and on close listening, one can hear what Shostakovich meant by this.

Bartók and Shostakovich

The following couple of posts will contain excerpts from a recent paper I wrote for music history class on the relationship between the Composers Bela Bartok and Dmitri Shostakovich, hope you like it =) Quotations will be cited in the final posting of the essay.

Bartók and Shostakovich were two of the greatest composers of the twentieth century. Each composer (Bartók from the early twentieth century, and Shostakovich from the middle to late twentieth century) was greatly influenced by the times in which they lived. Their social backgrounds, Bartók a native Hungarian, Shostakovich a native Russian, and the turbulent political climate of Western Europe, shaped and molded their lives and their music. Both lived through war and were affected deeply by death and tragedy. And both treasured the power, breadth, and striking rhythmic vitality of the music of antiquity.
Using folk and gypsy music as a spring board for his musical endeavors, Bartók, who was one of the first ethnomusicologists, travelled across Hungary with friend and fellow composer Zoltan Kodaly. During his journeys in 1913, he collected Slovakian, Romanian, Bulgarian and Hungarian folk music and wrote it down for posterity. The usage of folk material has a prominent role in Bartók's music. He was very interested in more oriental modes and scales such as the pentatonic and whole tone scale. Bartók's infatuation with folk music sparked while on holiday in 1904. During this retreat, he happened upon the folk-singing of Lidi Dósa, an eighteen-year-old nursemaid. A peculiar characteristic of the piece was the fact that it was in a three line, ABC form, rather than the conventional AABA, da capo form. Bartók was also fascinated by the fact that it was in the pentatonic scale. According to Rory Braddell "This modification of form and tonality was a revelation to Bartók." This indigenous Magyar music captivated Bartók, and it began his quest to collect the folk music of Hungary. In the fourth string quartet for example, the opening of the slow central movement is in the parlando-rubato "singing style", rhythm of the Romanian hora lunga, or long song, that Bartók discovered in Maramuresç County. Bartók once said that "the complete absence of any sentimentality or exaggeration of expression… is what gives rural music a certain simplicity, austerity, sincerity of feeling, even grandeur."

Why I Compose, Conclusion

So why do I write music? I write because it is the only way I know of understanding the world around me. I use music as a telescope through which I view the universe. Music is my connection to other humans as well; it is how I express what I feel, and who I am. In a way, music is my religion. I use it to express to others my connection with the world, who I am as a human being, and what I stand for. Although one piece may be sad or another may be happy, it is my music as a whole that defines me. It is the combination of the notes that matters, not the individual notes themselves.

Why I Compose (Part 4)

Composition is largely a collaborative art. Many times have I "finished" a piece, only to discover in rehearsal with musicians that the piece was not nearly complete. Tampering with the score during rehearsal can be very fruitful, and it is a large part of the composition process. This is something I am still learning about. For my recent rehearsal of a flute and bassoon duet, the bassoonist helped me realize that what I had written, some really high notes for bassoon, was possible but not practical. Just by transposing those notes down an octave, I was able to achieve the sound that I wanted in the first place. I realized that for bassoon, the melody certainly worked and sounded much more fitting in the lower register. Also, being a composer requires a lot of patience, not to mention bravery. Musicians aren't the easiest group of people to work with, and sometimes if you don't know every single nook and cranny of their precious instruments BEWARE.
Delving further into the curious question of the creative process, I began to discover more evidence of this yearning to comprehend ourselves through art. In her eloquent essay entitled, "Living Like Weasels", Annie Dillard introduces the concept of the path of "necessity." "The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn't "attack" anything: a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity" (213). Dillard uses the metaphor of the weasel in order to represent not only the life of the wild, but also to demonstrate to the reader that one must follow what he/she loves, and never feel tempted to stray from that path. There have been times when I questioned whether classical music writing was really practical in the high tech world of the 21st century. But after careful thought on my own part, I came to the conclusion that whether or not my music may be practical to the average naysayer, I nevertheless feel obligated to "stalk my calling in a certain skilled and supple way." I feel it is my duty to adhere to what nature has bestowed upon me, and never forget that in my case, music is the one "necessity" that I must yield to, no matter how economically fruitless it may be.

An Inspiration

Perfection

Why I Compose (Part 3)

So what are some of the ways I discover inspiration to write? Sometimes personal and outside influences affect what I eventually turn into music. After watching a particularly touching film, I wrote a piano piece called Devastation. After being overjoyed by a poem by Wordsworth entitled Daffodils, I decided to set the poetry to a comical short song, a project I'm still working on. Current events, such as the recent tragedy of Hurricane Katrina have inspired me to write for a cause. Although in truth I had written the music before Katrina, I chose certain pieces that I felt reflected ideas and feelings I had experienced during the time. The music was free piano improvisation, and I felt that the unrestricted quality of the music was appropriate. I labeled the album, The Calm before the Storm, to try and restore a sense of peace, and to reassure myself and others that after a disaster, life can go on.
How does one develop the craft of composition? The most obvious example is by listening to the music of the great composers. I listen and study tirelessly to as much music as I can get my hands on. Examples of composers who have definitely influenced my writing style include Beethoven, Bach, Prokofiev, Bartok, Rachmaninoff and others. I admire Bach for his sheer pragmatism and undying spirituality, Beethoven for his humanism and his rebellious breaking with conventional wisdom, Prokofiev for his florid and vibrant orchestration, Bartok for his embrace of the dark side of human nature, and Rachmaninoff for his master y of piano composition. All of these composers have a large influence on what I write, consciously and unconsciously. In a way, the composers of today are more like musical arrangers. So much material has been presented to them that it is sometimes difficult to find a voice. This can be seen as a burden but I believe it is a blessing. I think all composers are a mixture of what came before them and what they have to say that is new. All good composers, past and present, have studied those before them. The famous example is the strict tutelage of young Wolfgang Mozart by his father, Leopold Mozart, who was also a composer. Leopold instilled in Mozart the traditions of the 18th century, the symphonic and operatic forms that were to become such an integral part of Mozart's style. The art of classical composition is a living tradition, and we must not forget those who have established this art in all its grandeur and beauty.

Why I Compose (Part 2)

Time and again I ask myself, how is it possible? Why do I write music while others do not? Is it genetic? Or is it because of my cultural background and my exposure to music since before I was born? I think it is a mixture of culture and genetics, but it is deeper than that.
When I write music, I feel as if I am capturing a part of my life, my emotions, my feelings and my life experiences, and in a sense, converting those experiences into sound. Music is the most abstract of the arts. As Stokowsi said, "A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence." Unlike language, music has no direct meaning. If I say one word by itself, such as apple, one can visualize a picture of an apple, the taste of the apple, how it smells etc. But If I take one note, a G flat on a piano, that doesn't mean anything to me.
It is the combination of the notes that means something. Why that is? It's a mystery in itself. Various people have tried to explain music through music theory and analysis in which the music is broken down into its individual components; melody harmony, counterpoint, etc, but this method falls short of explaining what real music is, because music in its original form is something heard, not seen as in music theory. A person does not have to read music to have a connection with the music. A person has to listen.
According to the author, Lee K. Abbot, following our traditions is a fundamental step in the writing process. He says, "We all feel, less and more, the obligation we have to our fathers, to our mothers, to all folks linked by biology or not who have raised us… We write, beginner and professional alike, because, though half-frightened, we want to know what is in the trunks and lockers we lug forward through time, what vital secrets they can be sprung up to reveal" (128). This "obligation" that writers and musicians alike have is a very elusive thing. What I think it means is out of our respect for our life-line and our desire to understand the world in the most personal way we can, we listen to the rhythm of our forefathers, and from that listening develops the inspiration that we use for creation.
As well as address the question of tradition, Abbot discusses the stark contrast between the story and the reality, "In Fiction, given its unities and shape and its epiphanies, I comprehend my father… In life, however- which, messy and improbable and ephemeral, is not good fiction- I had no idea what made his world spin round and round" (129). What I find so remarkable about this quote is that I feel I could have written it myself! I have lost count of how many times music has helped me to understand and come to terms with the world and my personal life. In many ways, I feel that only through music can I truly express my view of the world, that only through the clink on the piano can I truly accept how the world goes round.

Piano Masters

Here is a list of some of my favorite pianists, piano composers and piano compositions (by no means comprehensive)

Pianists-
Glenn Gould
Sviatoslav Richter
William Kapel
Vladimir Horowitz
Georges Cziffra
Wanda Landowska
Samuel Feinberg
Daniel Barenboim
Emanuel Ax
Oxana Yablonskaya
Sergie Rachmaninoff
Radu Lupu

Great Piano Composers
Beethoven
Rachmaninoff
Chopin
Liszt
Bach (Harpsichod/Piano)***** the greatest
Mozart
Haydn
Bartok
Prokofiev

Great Piano Compositions


Bach- The Goldberg Variations, (favorite recording- Glenn Gould)
Beethoven- Pathetique Sonata
Rachmaninoff- Pagannini Rahpsody
Chopin- Funeral March Sonata (no. 2)
Prokofiev- Sonata no. 7
Mussorgsky- Pictures at an Exhibition
Chopin- all piano etudes

I leave you with this

2 Hours with Pierre Boulez

Today I met one of the most influential and extroadinary genious's of modern music, Pierre Boulez. By good fortune, my piano teacher, Joanna Chao, happened to be playing a piece of his at Juilliard with the Argento Chamber ensemble, Improvise for Dr. K, and Boulez was scheduled to come in for a private rehearsal with the musicians. Amost everyone in the room, about 20 people, were musicians (besides the camera man), and for a few moments there were such heavy hitters present as Ara Guzelimian, the former director of Carnegie Hall and now Dean of the Juilliard School, as well as Joseph Polisi, President of the Juilliard School.
As you can well imagine, I was completely and utterly awe-struck at the very chance of coming to watch Boulez rehearse with the musicians, and when I finally arrived, it was a rather remarkable occasion.
Boulez came in with an entourage of sorts, and then proceeded to greet the musicians who were to play his music. What followed was something I will never forget.
The musicians played first Boulez's Improvise for Dr. K, and second, Boulez's masterpiece, La Marteau sans Maitre. For each piece, they played with great clarity and precision, and were conducted masterfully by Michel Galante. Yet masterful isn't good enough for Pierre Boulez, and he made that very clear from the moment he entered the room.
Almost as soon as the musicians began to play Boulez stopped them, and he went on to demonstrate himself how the music should be played. By variously conducting himself and in concert with Galante, Boulez displayed a sense of musical perfection reserved for the Gods.
He obviously had many fascinating comments and anecdotes to say during the performance, so I will only mention a few.
One comment that struck me in particular was his insistance on playing the music "poetically". As precise and perfect as the musicians were, Boulez warned not to turn the music into something mechanical, but to allow it to be free and natural. Ironically, one of the ways to make music "seemingly" natural in the first place, is by tediously preparing beforehand. An example of this was the specifity of Boulez's comments, for he didn't always deal in metaphor. In fact most of the time he was showing Galante the technicalities of conducting the piece in terms of subdividing and phrasing.
The piece itself was fascinating to me, because I had only heard it once before, the night before on a recording actually! Anyway one of things that intrigued me about it was its use of timbral and coloristic effects, especially in regards to the percussion. The interaction betwen the voice and the alto flute was also quite beautiful, almost hauntingly so. I was reading that Boulez's earlier compositions are more serial in nature, and that Le Marteau was one of his first pieces to be more free formally and musically. Maybe the freedom that Boulez was trying to convey to the musicians was a freedom that even he had to discover, way back in 1954, when the piece was written.
After the rehearsal, Boulez warmly thanked the players and the audience, and went around to shake everyones hand. I was too chicken to strike up a conversation with him, but I did manage to pose for a picture.
What a day!

Why I Compose (Part 1)

Everyone has a calling. That one passion that defines who they are. That one obsession that gives them joy and helps them to comprehend their lives and their universe. Not everyone finds it right away, but when they do, they hold on to it forever. For me, that obsession is music.
Music has been a part of my life since before I can remember. My mother is greatly responsible for my musical gifts, and my father isn't far behind. My mother is a classically trained violinist, who studied at Juilliard. My father can't say that he went to Juilliard, but his father and two uncles played first three horns with the NBC symphony under Toscanini. I likely heard the reverberations of Mozart and Beethoven while in my mother's womb. She was auditioning for different orchestras at the time, while pregnant with me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if her violin practicing did more than annoy the neighbors.
Although I began piano lessons when I was 7, it wasn't until I was fourteen that I suddenly felt an urge to write music. One day, seemingly spontaneously, I just could not stop hearing music in my head. This was before I knew how to notate music, and so in my desperation to save these ideas that seemed fleeting, I sang them into a recorder. Once I developed the skills to actually write this music down in notes, I signed up with a composition teacher and have been composing ever since.