Berg, Rihm, and Schubert at Severance

The Cleveland Orchestra under Franz Welser-Möst continued its recent tradition of including a mix of the familiar and unfamiliar at last night’s concert at Severance Hall, with works from the 19^th, 20th, and 21^st Centuries.  This is the last concert of the 2021-2022 season at Severance I plan to attend, although there are a few concerts at Blossom Music Center that have caught my interest. 

The concert began with three selections for strings from Alban Berg’s Lyric Suite, completed in 1926.  The work was first presented by the orchestra under Pierre Boulez in 1971, and was recently performed at the height of the pandemic on the orchestra’s Adella app.  As Shostakovich would a few decades later, Berg uses musical notation tied to people’s names as part of the thematic material: in this case, his own initials as well as those of a woman he was having an affair with at the time of composition.  While the work uses twelve-tone methods, it is not atonal.  The dissonance is neither grating nor unpleasant, particularly when presented with the tonal beauty that was heard last night.

The Berg was followed by Wolfgang Rihm’s Verwandlung II, composed in 2005.  This work was totally unfamiliar to me, and I will need to further digest the piece when the concert is broadcast to fully comprehend it.  The performance was marked by the feathery lightness of certain string passages and Welser-Möst’s keen attention to dynamics.

The most well-known work followed intermission (and I’ve no doubt it was placed after intermission to keep butts in seats for the entire concert): Schubert’s Symphony in C major, D. 944. This is a work I’ve been in love with for over 40 years, since my father bought me a cassette tape of the work as played by the Cleveland Orchestra under George Szell.  Although I’ve heard recordings of the work in recordings and broadcasts of various quality – including by Toscanini, Walter, Böhm, von Dohnányi, and many others, this was the first time I’d heard it in concert.  As with every familiar piece I encounter in concert, I am reminded of the inadequacy of even the finest recordings to truly convey the concert experience.  Welser-Möst’s pacing of the Symphony, Schubert’s largest, tended toward the lively, dismissing the phony Gemütlichkeit which has marred too many performances of this work.  The conductor favored a large dynamic range, mixed with transparent textures, along with a minimum of interpretive fuss.  There was one exception, in the Scherzo, where a rhythmic “hiccup” was slightly exaggerated.  As with the orchestra’s 2020 live recording, Welser-Möst observed every repeat, bringing the heavenly length of the work to just under an hour, but it never seemed excessive.

Beethoven and Bartók at Severance

The last-minute substitution of the scheduled guest conductor didn’t impair the performance at Severance over this past weekend, as the orchestra delivered performances even more refined than usual.  The guest conductor was Kahchun Wong, who hails from Singapore, making his Cleveland Orchestra debut.

The shortish program began with Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, featuring Christian Tetzlaff as soloist.  The performance was marked by pronounced flexibility of tempo along with uncanny balancing between soloist and conductor, featuring pianissimos that the composer would not have been able to hear.  Tetzlaff’s solution was elegant yet inventive: He arranged Beethoven’s own cadenza from his piano arrangement of the Violin Concerto (created at the request of Muzio Clementi) for violin - with timpani accompaniment as written by Beethoven.  A sustained ovation followed the performance and the audience was gifted with an encore, the slow movement from J. S. Bach’s Sonata in A minor.

Bartók’s Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta followed the intermission.  The conductor, whose visual style was a mix of theatricality and subtle details, paid particular attention to dynamics with numerous felicities unheard on even the finest recordings.  The punching rhythm of the second movement Allegro remained in the ears, and feet, following the concert.

Tightening our belts

Aside from gas company executives, no one enjoys high fuel prices.  But they are a small price to pay compared to Ukrainians who are dying for their freedom. 

During World War II, Americans were required, not just asked, to limit consumption of gasoline, textiles, sugar, meat, and a host of other items.  Limits on purchases were enforced via ration books.  Today, Americans are not being asked to restrict themselves as much.  While prices have been on the rise for months due to high consumer demand and continuing problems with the supply chain, the sharp rise in gasoline prices over the past few weeks is the direct result of Russia’s brutal invasion of the sovereign nation of Ukraine.  While Americans have been generationally conditioned to consume, consume, consume – the time has now come for Americans to conserve.  Nowhere is this more true than in consumption of fuels – not just gasoline but all fossil fuels.      

Given the continuing challenges in the supply line, most of us are stuck with the vehicles we’re driving now.  If you opted for a gas guzzler, you’re going to pay much more than those of us who drive more fuel efficient models.  (If you drive an electric vehicle, try not to rub it in our faces.)  That said, we can all do a few things to reduce our personal consumption. 

Obviously, first on the list is avoid unnecessary trips, like driving for pleasure or to take in the scenery. 

Keep your tires inflated to their recommended pressure – you can find it on the side of the tire or in your vehicle owner’s manual.

Keep your car windows closed when driving, even if it means turning on your car’s air conditioning.  It’s more efficient to drive with the A/C on than with the windows open - which creates wind drag and increases fuel consumption.

Don’t be a lead foot on the highway.  You don’t need to slow poke your way around town, but the faster you go over 60/mph on the highway, the greater the drag on your car.

Don’t over accelerate or slam on the brakes.   

When at a steady speed on the highway, use cruise control.  Otherwise, use your vehicle’s highest gear if that’s an option.

Consolidate many errands into fewer.  If you’re waiting in your car while your other half goes shopping, turn the car off.    

Speaking of consolidation, did you know some online retailers like Amazon allow you to consolidate your orders?  If you’re ordering multiple items, you’ll be presented with the option to have them sent in one shipment instead of separately.  It means you may get your shipment a day or two later.  But repressing one’s desire for instant gratification is worth saving the fuel. 

At home, be mindful of your use of heat and air conditioning.  If you sweat enough during the cold months that you’re throwing off your blankets at night, the heat is set too high.  Lower it each night by one degree until you’re comfortable under the covers.  Conversely, during warmer months, set the A/C so you can sleep comfortably over the covers. 

With COVID now manageable, companies are welcoming remote employees back into the workplace.  But they should continue to allow their employees the option to work from home in order to cut down on fuel consumption. 

These are a few things we can do to reduce consumption.  If we all tighten our belts just a little, we can have an impact.

Cancel Culture, McCarthyism, and Russia’s war on Ukraine

 

Only someone with his head stuck in the sand would be unaware of Russia’s invasion of the sovereign nation of Ukraine. Only those under the sway of Vladimir Putin’s propaganda machine or blinded by their own prejudice would have anything but sympathy for what the people of Ukraine are suffering right now.

The backlash from the West has been immediate.  Vladimir Putin has managed to do in two weeks what President Biden was unable to do in 13 months: the once-fraying NATO has unified and the Western Alliance has solidified.  The sanctions with which Russia now finds itself saddled are bound to cripple the already struggling Russian economy, and will hopefully awaken the Russian people to the extent to which Putin has led them down a false path.  From a military standpoint, despite Russian brutality, the effectiveness of Ukrainian resistance has exposed weak points in Russian strategy, unit cohesion, and equipment.  But the effects of the past few weeks have gone beyond the geopolitical and military.

A number of Russian classical music performers have found their careers in the West curtailed and appearances cancelled.  While some would pooh-pooh this development as symbolic, it’s worth noting most of the money these performers earn comes from concertgoers in Europe and the United States.  The most noteworthy performers in this case are conductor Valery Gergiev, soprano Anna Netrebko, and pianists Denis Mastuev and Valentina Lisitsa – all of whom have been vocally supportive of Putin’s regime, with the particularly atrocious Lisitsa describing Ukraine as a Nazi regime (despite Ukrainians electing a Jewish President).   

Putin with piano banger Denis Matsuev

Putin with Anna Netrebko

Putin with Valery Gergiev

Other Russian musicians have also suffered fallout because of Russian’s invasion of Ukraine.  The most visible case is the young pianist Alexander Malofeev.  The Vancouver Recital Society cancelled an upcoming performance of his.  It’s not a question of either logistics or transportation: Malofeev's concert was not scheduled until August.  The young pianist has spoken out, at considerable risk to himself and his family, against Putin’s brutal invasion of Ukraine.  Malofeev’s behavior and circumstances are not at all comparable to those of Gergiev, Nebtrenko, Mastuev, or Lisitsa – who deserve the contempt and cancellations that have been heaped upon them.  But Malofeev?  Not the same at all.

Alexander Malofeev's post after VRS's cancellation

I believe VRS’s decision was an overreach.  At the very least, VRS owes the music lovers of Vancouver an explanation for their decision.  Which specific board members voted for or against this action?  Which patrons/donors instigated and pressured the board into making this decision?

I am as opposed to the actions of the Putin-led Russian government as anybody, and I was warning others about Putin when President George W. Bush “looked the man in eye” and “found him to be very straightforward and trustworthy”. Russia’s actions over the past weeks cannot be excused by any rationale, regardless of what North Korea, Venezuela, Serbia, and some on the American Right (and a few on the far-Left) say.

Malofeev’s career will thrive despite this cancellation.  It may even benefit from it in the longer term, as some are learning of him for the first time.  Yet I note that there are those who haven't said squat about what Putin has done over the decades, yet are wringing their hands about this.  Also, those crying "cancel culture" when this is hardly an example of that phenomenon - because Malofeev (unlike the four stooges I mentioned above) hasn't done anything to warrant being cancelled.  Nor is it McCarthyism - and those claiming it is have little notion of what Joseph McCarthy actually did to destroy innocent people's lives.

First, what is cancel culture?  It stems from the decision to withdraw support from public figures – performers, sports figures, politicians – who have done something to offend sensibilities.  The offensive act can be anything from physical violence to sexual impropriety or even a clumsily phrased but well-meaning statement.  Malofeev has done none of these things, so that term does not apply here. 

What was McCarthyism historically, as opposed to its recent use as a label thrown on anything some group doesn’t like?  Joe McCarthy was a Republican from Wisconsin who was a senator from 1947 until his death ten years later.  During the Army-McCarthy hearings, he claimed to have lists of government employees who were active members of the Communist party – which neither was nor is illegal in the United States.  Not satisfied with rooting out real Communists in government, McCarthy went after people outside of government who were “suspected” of having communist sympathies, then he went after homosexuals (of which, posthumously, he is suspected of being himself).  During the hearings, which were televised, his common tactic was to wave a piece of paper stating “I have here in my hand a list” of people who were accused of whatever offended him at the moment.  As often as not, the paper’s contents were either unrelated to the subject or it was entirely blank. 

Vis-à-vis communism and the Cold War.  I think the point that many have missed over the decades is that while Presidents and politicians of both parties railed against communism, it was never the real threat.  Communism is an economic philosophy – one which doesn’t work judging by the low standards of living in communist countries.  The real threat during the Cold War was not communism but Russian Totalitarian Imperialism – the proof of this is that a number of communist countries have never been a threat to either the United States or the West.  But Russia has legitimately been a threat and ruined life in every country it subjugated during the Cold War – the prime reason so many risked their lives to flee the East and make their way to either Western Europe or the United States.  Very few opted to leave the West and move to Russia.  But I digress. 

Some of those impacted by McCarthyism include Aaron Copland, Leonard Bernstein, Lena Horne, and Danny Kaye – all of whom weathered the storm and went on to have successful careers.  In the end, criticism of them was unwarranted because they never cozied to the likes of Hitler or Stalin. 

But there is an example from Classical music history that has been trotted out in past weeks, and the comparison is worth raising – if only to demolish it. 

Wilhelm Furtwängler

Attempts to excuse Gergiev’s behavior by comparing him to German conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler miss the mark.  For those who don’t know, Furtwängler, the most eminent German conductor of the time, refused to leave his home country while the Nazis were in power.  For this, the conductor found his postwar activities restricted and for a period he found it impossible to perform in the United States.  It was not the US government which banned him.  Rather a coalition of performers and other cultural figures, including Arturo Toscanini, Vladimir Horowitz, Arthur Rubinstein, and others declared they would have nothing to do with any organization that engaged Furtwängler.  Even late in life, Horowitz mistakenly claimed the conductor was “a supporter of the Nazis.”  Horowitz, who had had bad relations with Furtwängler preceding Hitler’s rise, may have been blinded by his personal antipathy for the conductor.  But even prior to the pianist’s death in 1989 it had become clear that the Furtwängler situation was more complex.  For one, Furtwängler (unlike, say, Alfred Cortot) was not an anti-Semite.  Rather, the conductor, whose provincial thinking and naivety were matched only by his ego, believed that German musical culture could not continue without him and that he would be able to save it from the philistines who had come to power.  Early in Hitler’s regime he spoke against removing Jews from orchestras and against the banning of newer music.  Remarkably, he shared his concerns with Goebbels and Hitler himself, often in undiplomatic terms that would have sent anyone else to a concentration camp.  But Furtwängler’s protestations came to naught, as Jews were purged from German culture and “decadent” music was banned.  Eventually, Furtwängler narrowly escaped arrest as he fled to Switzerland in early 1945.  But Gergiev will only escape the contempt of conscientious music lovers if we forget his history.  The same is true of Netrebko, Matsuev, and Lisitsa. 

But it was wrong of VRS to cancel Alexander Malofeev’s concert.  Nor does it make any sense to cancel performances of works by Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich – they should continue, and western audiences should be reminded of how their lives were impacted by the governmental and social elites of their time.

During the height of the Cold War, President Kennedy said that “No government or social system is so evil that its people should be considered as lacking in virtue.”  But I believe he, and every right-thinking person, would draw a distinction between those who are cultural figures, and those who are willing propaganda tools.

May Putin's reign of terror end soon

 

I stand by this statement and if it gets me banned from Blogger and Twitter, so be it.  As Toscanini said, "The spine curves when the soul is curved. But the conduct of my life has been, is, and will be the echo and the reflection of my conscience."

February 25, 1953

When Vladimir Horowitz stepped onto the stage at Carnegie Hall on February 25, 1953, no one knew it would be his last public performance for over 12 years.  Instead, it was to be a celebratory occasion: the Silver Jubilee recital commemorating 25 years since his United States debut.  Horowitz’s record label, RCA Red Seal, was on hand to document the event, which was duly issued as a two-LP set. 

The "Actual Recording"?  Not entirely...

Not the actual program cover

It must be pointed out that there are numerous differences between the recital, as performed, and RCA’s release – billed as the “Actual Recording” of the concert.  First, three works were omitted from the album: Brahms’ Rhapsody, Op.119, No. 4; Debussy’s Little Shepherd, from the Children’s Corner suite, and Clementi’s Rondo in in B-flat major, Op. 24, No. 2.  Further, Debussy’s Serenade to the Doll was moved from its place in the program and used as an encore.  Even the lavish booklet which accompanied the album, made to appear as if it was a program book from the concert, was altered to accommodate the changes.  Substantially, several aspects of the performance were edited, most notably in Schubert’s B-flat major Sonata, D. 960. Comparison with the unedited concert recording, copies of which circulated privately for decades before it was released by Sony Classical (superbly remastered by Jon Samuels) in 2013, results in the question: What possessed Horowitz (who was closely involved in the editing process) and RCA to make these changes?  The musical differences are minor and technical fluffs in the unedited original barely detectable.  Further, the poor quality of the splices themselves, with noticeable shifts in pitch and the rumbling subway underneath Carnegie Hall suddenly appearing and disappearing, is distracting to the musical experience.  For the purposes of this essay, I am referencing the original, unedited recording of the February 25^th concert, including the works deleted from the official release.

The Brahms Rhapsody starts with several nerve-induced missed notes before settling down to a rendition notable for the pianist’s refusal to rely on the sustaining pedal.  Sections which too often are blurred and indistinct emerge with clarity here.  Yet the performance is dutiful rather than joyous, and one is not surprised to learn that this was Horowitz’s last public performance of any work by Brahms.

Horowitz’s rendition of Schubert’s final piano sonata was widely criticized when initially heard.  Listening with fresh ears through the perspective of time, one finds little that is objectionable to the open minded.  Tempi do not stray far from the established norms – yet the pianist finds something fresh in a work that has become overly familiar.  Horowitz does not observe the first movement repeat - few did at the time.  He strips from his performance aspects which had become traditional but were unspecified in the score, such as the oft-heard ritardando at bars 73-75.  The pianist’s sparing use of the sustaining pedal ensures textures are clear, yet he still achieves many subtle colorations.  The second movement, a true Andante, gels in a way that Horowitz’s 1986 studio recording does not - it is profound without being portentous.  The Scherzo - with the trio’s off-beat pizzicato accents - has a humor too often missing from pianists trying to make the music seem like proto-Mahler.  It’s only in the final movement where Horowitz’s playing becomes too large-scaled and Lisztian for some tastes – but one can understand the pianist’s desire to project the work in a manner suited to a modern concert hall instead of a 19^th Century Schubertiade.  In the final analysis, this performance of Schubert’s last Sonata is neither Horowitzian nor Lisztian, but strongly architectonic in the spirit of Toscanini.

It was a rare Horowitz recital that did not include works by Chopin, and the Silver Jubilee was no exception.  The pianist made several recordings of the Nocturne in E minor, Op. 72, No. 1, both studio and live.  As with the others, this rendition is a bit more intense than standard performances, with a sense of menace brewing underneath the left-hand accompaniment – further emphasized by Horowitz’s occasional extensions of bass notes.

Intensity and Chopin’s Scherzo in B minor, Op. 20 go hand-in-hand – and this is easily the most enervated of Horowitz’s many recordings of the work.  Tempos start fairly normally, but by the first repetition of the main theme the pianist hits the accelerator and doesn’t look back – leading to a few frantic moments where he teeters on the edge of catastrophe.  The central section goes a bit cavalierly, lacking the hushed reverence Chopin intended for this adaptation of the Polish Christmas carol Lulajże Jezuniu.  Then Horowitz takes off again driving the work toward a coda that must have left the keys smoking.   

Nor is intensity lacking in the performance of Scriabin’s “Black Mass” Sonata that followed intermission.  The 1953 audience must have been shocked by what was then an unfamiliar work to most American music lovers.  For all the talk, including from the pianist himself, about Horowitz’s 1953 rendition being “too fast”, the performance convinces the listener that this is a well-structured composition – giving the lie to Aaron Copland’s assertion that Scriabin’s late piano sonatas were one of the great mistakes of the piano literature.  Even in this 1953 version, Horowitz holds his powers in reserve until he reaches the work’s climax, which under the pianist’s hands is truly satanic.  

The two Scriabin Etudes which follow (B-flat minor, Op. 8, No. 11; C-sharp minor, Op. 42, No. 5) provide ample contrast to each other and to the Sonata.  The B-flat minor Etude is primarily lyrical, with a bit more turbulence in the recapitulation than heard in later live performances (preserved on pirate recordings) and the 1972 studio recording by the pianist.  The work ends in a pianissimo as only Horowitz could make.  The C-sharp minor Etude, a beast to play, is akin to navigating a boat in stormy waters.  The pianist amply pulls and pushes the phrasing and tempo until the repetition of the main theme half-way through the piece, where he pulls out the stops.   

The recital included two excerpts from Debussy’s Children’s Corner Suite: The Little Shepherd and Serenade to the Doll (the latter was a frequent encore).  Horowitz apparently never performed the complete suite in public, unfortunately.  In this concert, the excerpts are apparently placed as a “breather” between the Scriabin and Liszt.  The Little Shepherd includes a very minor memory lapse which is likely the reason it was not included in the original album.  (Horowitz’s musical memory, while formidable, was hardly infallible, with recorded memory lapses as far back as his 1930 Rachmaninoff Third Concerto with Coates, contradicting the notion that electroshock treatments during the early 1960s and 1970s were the cause of memory lapses in subsequent years.)

Horowitz is on record as describing his arrangement of Liszt’s Second Hungarian Rhapsody as the most difficult he ever performed, eclipsing even the Rákóczy March.  The pianist sticks closely to the original during the lassan – which is justly paced and performed without the excessive schmaltz one often encounters.  The friska is a demonstration of how Horowitz was able to build tension and volume without covering up with the pedal.  In addition to the high-wire excitement generated, the pianistic gymnastics are superbly controlled and always musical – particularly when the pianist combines three themes into a contrapuntal tour-de-force.  This is not the playing of a man on the edge of a breakdown, but an example of stellar pianistic and musical control.  (It must be mentioned here that attempts by several pianists to play this arrangement have met with varying levels of success and failure, but none have come close to scaling the heights as Horowitz did here.)  

Throughout his career, Horowitz invariably performed a quiet, contemplative piece for his first encore, allowing the audience to “come down” from the high generated by the program closer. 

Chopin’s Waltz in A minor Op. 34, No. 2 – the composer’s favorite – is given a quietly poetic performance that deftly balances melody with inner voices, the final bars fading away as Chopin must have intended.  

The Clementi Rondo, Op. 24, No. 2 was not included in the original release.  I can find nothing in the performance that merits its exclusion, and can only conclude it was excised to avoid duplication with the pianist’s 1950 studio recording of the work.  The live performance here is even more pointed, sparsely pedaled, and witty – demonstrating that Horowitz continually found new aspects of works within his repertoire.

Horowitz’s last encore for twelve years was the finale from Prokofiev’s Sonata, Op. 83, a study in motoric music.  It starts much as his 1945 studio recording, at a sensible tempo and dynamics held in check.  As he approaches the coda he begins rushing the rapid chords in the upper-register, making the conclusion sound frantic in place of his granitic studio recording.  The work’s final descending then ascending octaves bring a roar from the audience, but as with the Brahms that started this recital, this was the last time Horowitz played the music of this composer in public.

For everything Horowitz, visit Vladimir Horowitz Appreciation Society, the internet’s premiere curated Horowitz site.

 

Abrahamsen and Brahms at Severance

The Cleveland Orchestra continued its recent practice of commingling the new and the old this weekend at Severance. 

The new was the world premiere of Vers le silence, by Danish composer Hans Abrahamsen. The title is an allusion to Scriabin’s Vers la flamme, so memorably performed by Horowitz.  But if Scriabin’s later music was intended to depict the end of the world, the static quality of Abrahamsen’s work brings to mind the end of the universe – which current science predicts will end with a whimper, not a bang.  The two works are opposites, as the Scriabin starts off quietly and builds to an explosion, and the four movements of Vers le silence start explosively and dissonantly and fade into silence.  Following the work’s performance, the composer was invited to the stage to share in the applause.

Brahms’ titanic Second Piano Concerto is something of a repertoire staple – nearly every important pianist has recorded it.  But this marks the first time I’ve heard the piece at a concert.  The work, which is much more difficult to play than it sounds, is a tough nut to crack.  Most performers approach it as a magnificent structure, or as a stern work that only offers a few tight-lipped smiles, or worst with a pseudo-reverence that drains the work of its energy.  Levin and Welser-Möst offered instead a performance marked by rhapsodic feelings and occasional whimsy.  At times, the tempi seemed unusually brisk.  Then I remembered a study of Brahms’ metronome markings indicated most movements should go much quicker than heard on most recordings.  Parts of the performance reminded me of Rubinstein’s famous 1929 recording of the work with Albert Coates and the London Symphony Orchestra – although Levit was far more polished technically.  The tempi in the opening movement in particular were markedly flexible, contrasting the energetic theme as presented after the introduction with the later dreamily contemplative section.  Principal cellist Mark Kosower contributed soulfully meditative playing in his third movement solo, while the joy and grace of the final movement (parts of which have always reminded me of children playing tag) built to a conclusion that brought the audience to its feet.