Claude Debussy (1862-1918) is my favorite composer.  That's no secret.

All semester at the University of Houston, I've been working on Debussy-related things: a 15-page analysis of motifs in Pelleas et Melisande, program notes for one of his song cycles, and performance of the first three songs from his Ariettes oubliees.  In all of this work, I've been learning more about how he worked hard to establish a distinct French aesthetic for art music, and how he was largely successful.  We all mostly understand that aesthetic, so I'm not going to describe it in great detail.

I WILL go into some detail, though, about the piece I'm nominating for this week/month/half-year...his Images pour orchestre.  This is a three-movement orchestral work that he originally intended for dual pianos, but changed his mind while composing them.  Debussy was notoriously particular about his music, though, and this work took him a full seven years (1905-1912) to complete.  Its wikipedia page can tell you more, but here's the basic breakdown of when he composed each movement:

Gigues (1909-1912)
Iberia (1905-1908)
Rondes de printemps (1905-1909)

These come close to the end of Debussy's career, and yet one thing I like about them is that they sort of sound like every part of his career rolled into one piece.  Certain moments, particularly in Gigues and the first movement of the triptych-within-a-triptych, Iberia, feel like early, less crazy Debussy...and then other moments feel different.

The last, most interesting thing about these pieces is that, except for the final movement (which is based on French folk-music), they're all based on the music of other countries.  Gigues uses two English folk tunes and Debussy's memories of England as inspiration, and Iberia is inspired by Spain, with Debussy aiming to evoke its visual arts through music.  Despite all of this, they still sound clearly French to me...and also, occasionally, perhaps a little offensive (the castanets at the beginning of Iberia, for example).  So...with that said...have at it!  Get Frenching...preferably not with each other.

It's been a while! Rameen asked me to jump back into it, and here I am.

I wanted to talk about a piece that I just studied in class, The People United Will Never Be Defeated!, by Frederic Rzewski. But there are a lot of things to discuss here before we dive in, so I'll do that.

This piece was written in 1979. It is extremely political in nature. Rzewski, a Marxist, wrote this piece to criticize the US's involvement in the Chilean coup. I'm foggy on most of the political details, as this is something that general history courses don't really cover, so we'll just leave it at that for the background of the piece.

The piece is a tour-de-force in piano writing - almost an hour of solo piano. It's a theme and variations... 36 variations, actually. The variations are broken into 6 groups of 6. The first five variations are the closest to the theme, and then the sixth variation is a summary variation ON THE PREVIOUS FIVE VARIATIONS. This goes on with sets 2-5. The sixth set is all variations of variations: the first five variations in that set summarize the material in the first five sets of variations, and then the very last variation summarizes that. So, variation 36 is a summary variation of the summary variations of the whole set of variations. Meta music!

The album I put on the Spotify playlist includes a rendition of the original song, which is handy.

I highly recommend you follow the score along with this piece. Here's the score:
http://vkgfx.com/scores/rzewski/rzewski_people.pdf

Compare what you see with what you hear. For example, Variation 1 is completely tonal. You wouldn't really easily recognize it by looking at it, but that is just the melody and bass line with wild registral variation. The second variation is much the same, with added suspensions. 

Also, try to keep the theme in mind through the wilder variations. Even when it becomes completely atonal, the theme often fits in there.

The entire piece weaves in and out of tonality. I won't go into the set theory behind it, but it's amazing how well-organized it is. I will say that much of the atonal variations, particularly in the 4th set, are based on a set that's created from alternating half steps and perfect fifths.

Also you get fun things like singing, whistling, slamming the lid, and other cool effects. Variation 5 is just one of the coolest things ever.

I could go on - for pages and pages - but I think, at this point, it's best if I just have you all listen to it and join in our conversation.

People other than Molly and Rameen - please join our conversation! The more the merrier. Let me know 

Certain people in the classical music world are really  into Mahler.  You've seen him.  He's the scruffy, rotund low-brass player with his ass crack peeking out of the top of his baggy jeans and a ring of chapped skin on his lips from his mouth piece.  He's the guy who is unapologetic about emptying his spit valve right on the floor, saying, "Don't worry, it's just condensation, not actual spit."  That guy talks about Mahler with the same awe that astronomers have when they talk about how every atom in your body was created in an ancient star.  

And I'm not sure I get it.

So, today I listened to Mahler's ninth and final completed symphony.  I chose it because I read a review a little while ago of a new recording from the LA Phil, conducted by The Dude, that is, Venezuelan wunderkind Gustavo Dudamel.

Mahler 9 was written in 1909 and 1910, but wasn't premiered until after Mahler's death.  Supposedly, the composer had been diagnosed with the heart disease that would kill him while he was writing this thing, and scholars have written quite a lot about the death imagery in it.  For example, according to the textbook from a class I took on symphonic lit at Shenandoah, Alban Berg said this:

Then there was this 1983 essay by Lewis Thomas, Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler's Ninth Symphony.  In it, the author reflects on Cold War tensions and the possibility of a nuclear conflict decimating the population.  Grim.

Wow, just getting the hang of Weebly...

Since we've thus far featured either 20th century works (Ligeti, Shostakovich) or very well-known works (Beethoven's piano stuff), this week I wanted something early.  I wanted to go with a composer I know I love, but whose instrumental music I didn't know, so I went with Purcell.

After some scouring for his instrumental pieces, I came upon an album of assorted "Fantasies and In nomines" by The Rose Consort of Viols, an English Viol ensemble.  If you search Spotify for "Purcell: Fantazias," you'll find the album.  It doesn't include all of his Fantasies and In nomines, but it includes 14 of the 18 he composed in 1680 (one of which was incomplete), so it's probably about the most complete picture we'll get of these works.

I did some very cursory work researching what, exactly, a "Fantasy" and an "In nomine" were in the Baroque period, and I think the following somewhat basic definitions may suffice:

Fantasy 
(Baroque) typically a piece for keyboard instruments with alternately slow and fast sections
(Renaissance) typically a piece for a consort (instrumental ensemble), often of viols, that mimics vocal motets and features rapid fugal sections alternating with slower sections; these latter types of sections often feature clashing harmony

In nomine - a piece for a consort - again, often of viols - that features one instrument on the cantus firmus and other instruments on complex imitative counterpoint

I feature all of this information, particularly both Fantasy definitions, because despite Wikipedia's claim that Purcell's fantasies were Baroque, I think they're more of a mix of both styles.  I really hear a lot of similarities between these fantasies and the vocal motets I know from the renaissance, but I might just be hearing similar harmonies.  The In nomines are pretty much standard, from what that definition tells us.

I've listened to a little bit of these already, and I must say that I find them incredibly captivating.  To me, Purcell is woefully underrated because his primary output was vocal, but he does some pretty fascinating things here.  I'd go into it more, but I don't want to influence your listening.  I will say that I'm glad to have a week of what I consider "morsels" of music as a break from last week's "feast" - no offense, Michael!  I liked the Shostakovich, but I also like that, since these aren't really meant to be heard together, we can listen to them all at our leisure without musician guilt.

Enjoy!  I know I will.

All right! We've closed the conversation on Denk's Ligeti/Beethoven recording. (Well, continue to discuss it if you want to, but I'm putting this out there for discussion now:

To completely change gears from solo piano work, I thought we'd listen to something for full orchestra. Shostakovich's Fourth Symphony is one of my all-time favorites. It's definitely 20th century, but, like most Shostakovich, it's also quite neo-Romantic. Shostakovich's music can quickly change from showcasing sharp wit to displaying great terror. Shosty 4 sticks a little bit closer to horror.

The most famous of his symphonies is No. 5. I've always loved Shostakovich 4 and 5, but it's fascinating, actually, how different they are. Just give this a minute or so at the beginning:

The most famous part of this symphony starts at about 17:00. Listen to that for a minute or so, too. Yeah, you've heard that part.

Anyway, Shostakovich actually shelved No. 4 for a good long while, because he was afraid it would get him in trouble. He had somewhat of a shaky relationship with Stalin - at times Shosty was in his good graces, at other times he was under house arrest for being subversive. One such work that Stalin didn't much care for was Shostakovich's "Lady MacBeth of Mtensk."  The 4th Symphony is pretty similar to said opera, so Shosty was afraid to have it premiered and get in trouble again. No. 5, then, was almost an apologetic work. It's much more palatable. Just as good as 4, but also more often heard.

I'm not an expert on Shostakovich recordings myself, so I did some light research on which was the best No. 4. I couldn't quickly and easily find the ones that were suggested, so I picked the Bernard Haitink/Chicago Symphony Orchestra recording from 2009... It was the first to come up on Spotify, and I like the picture.

Before I give too many more of my thoughts, I'd like to hear what you guys think. I'll pipe in more after that.

Hi guys!  I'm sort of stupidly excited about this.  I think the only thing I love more than music is talking about music.   I just want to kick things of by talking a little bit about Jeremy Denk, and why I think he's so cool. 

I had never heard of Denk until about a year ago when I read this essay on the Goldberg Variations in NPR's Deceptive Cadence blog.  I read it and thought, this is the best music writing I've ever read. 

Then, as I have a way of doing when something gets me excited, I went on to find out everything I could about this guy.  For instance, he has a blog that isn't updated terribly often, but, you know, quality over quantity.  The writing style is a little flowery, but I find it utterly engrossing.

Also this.

So basically, Denk became this guy that I was following online that I kind of wish I could have a beer with and talk about Bach.

When the Ligeti/Beethoven album came out, I gave it a listen while cooking dinner one evening.  I'm interested to hear what you guys think about how he relates the Beethoven sonata to Ligeti's atonal (polytonal?) counterpoint.  Is it brilliant or gimmicky?

Ciao!

It all started with a post on Molly's blog: Singers: Stop Listening to other Singers All the Time. It's Good for You.

Then a conversation started on Molly's Facebook about it:

So, there it is. Molly made a collaborative Spotify playlist, we'll take turns adding things to it, we'll all listen to it, and post it here. You should listen, too, and join in our conversation!