Saying Good-bye to Shadow, Classics in Commercials, and Erard survives the Terror.

It's the day before Thanksgiving as I write this. We just said good-bye to our dog Shadow. She was just a puppy when we got her twelve-plus years ago. It went too fast. She was a faithful, loving creature....always following me around...or laying at my feet. You may be aware that I listen to a lot of music...most of it classical. She heard quite a bit of it over the years. She seemed to like it too... at least she never complained about it.

Her kidneys were failing. She stopped eating and walking. She waited until Jack and Ethan came home from school this week. She hung on as long as she could and gave us a chance to face this as a family....to say good-bye to her. We all went to the clinic with her this morning. They ushered us into a room right away and had a soft blanket on the floor for her. It was very hard, but it was the right thing. She is in heaven now.

Afterward, the four of us had a family hug outside of the clinic. A long hug. 

When we got home, Cheryl and I took a walk. Shadow loved her daily walks, and since she was a puppy, she carried her leash in her mouth. When we actually had her on the leash, she would constantly turn around and try to take it out of our hands and carry it herself. I finally bundled the leash up so it was manageable and that's how its been ever since. She never wanted to run away or stray from the path (I always had another leash in my pocket just in case though...but I never needed it.) So this morning, we carried her yellow leash with us on a walk in her honor.

She brought us so much joy and gave us so much love. She will be missed.

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Christmas commercials are running non-stop now....here's one that uses the music of Beethoven to great effect. This is from his Symphony no. 6 (1808).

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Three things came together for me the other day, just by chance I'm sure. I have been reading A Tale of Two Cities for quite awhile now. I'm almost done with it, and once the French Revolution really got going, I found that the reading got easier too. After storming the Bastille and unleashing the revolution, the movement itself became known as The Terror. I read a few pages one morning before work and then went about my day. After work, my wife and I met with her financial advisor as part of her annual review of her retirement fund. This nice young man works for a local investment firm that is a subsidiary of a much larger company called AXA. I had not heard of AXA before. So later that evening, I was doing some reading and research. I stumbled on a detailed history of the Erard piano company. Sebastian Erard started making pianos in 1777 and then harps as well shortly after that. His pianos were played by the likes of Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, Wagner and Mendelssohn. But all of this almost didn't happen; The Terror came calling:

"September 9, 1793. 

To the Citizen Minister of Justice.

Citizen Laurent has the honour of denouncing to you an emigrant who left fifteen months ago to go and find the other emigrants in London. Had he not taken his paintings with him you would find in his home at least three hundred thousand livres worth of paintings. He has two houses, one where he lives and another one. In the one where he lives, he has had at least two hundred thousand Francs of repairs done in the past two years. This individual lives on the rue de Mail, he is a native of Germany, his name is on the sign Herard [sic] musical maker.(Herard means Erard of course)"

Erard was able to prove that he was not an enemy of the State but he was very fortunate that the search of his office happened when it did. Nine days later, on September 17, 1793, the Law of Suspects was passed. This law unleashed the full Terror on the nation and Erard may not have been spared. As it was, Erard and his company were spared. But the company was not spared of economic demise. By the mid 1900's the company folded. 

"But after the company closed its doors in the middle of the twentieth century, they were all but forgotten...a heap of old archives and objects in a storeroom in the basement Salle Gaveau in Paris. After the sales of the brand names of Gavaeu, Erard , and Pleyel, as well as the Salle Gaveau itself, these archives became property of the AXA insurance. Thanks to the perseverance of a handful of Erard devotees-both musicologists and AXA managers, the archives were finally saved from destruction."

AXA, Erard and A Tale of Two Cities all came together for me in one interesting day. Life can be amazing like that.

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I don't listen to music when I run anymore. I used to. But the hassle of earphones, my declining eyesight, and maintaining playlists etc made it a chore. So I just stopped. I much prefer the quiet of the moment...the sound of my breathing...the sound of my shoes hitting the road. AND, the music that seems to play in my head. It can be anything, and yes, most of the time it's a classical piece that I seem to having playing in my brain, and sometimes I end up humming or singing along with it. So in this respect, I do still run with music.

My playlist is pretty wide and varied, but yesterday, the music that I ended up hearing for my run was a very odd selection....it was the Unanswered Question by Charles Ives. It is a great piece, but not one that I would probably put on a running playlist! But it was there...in my head...and it felt good.

I have not been sleeping much the past couple of days. Shadow was not able to get up in time to go to the bathroom, and she had given up trying. So we had her resting on her doggie-bed in the living room by the fireplace. We were spending a lot of time trying to keep her clean and comfortable, and of course we knew what was coming....and it was very hard emotionally. Maybe this experience brought the Unanswered Question into my mind? I don't know....but it may express the conflicting feelings I had while sorting through questions about life and death...and coming to grips with having to good-bye to her. 

Classics in Commercials and A Coat Story

I saw a very funny Doritos commercial this week. It also used classical music!

The music is the Flower Duet by French composer Leo Delibes (1883). 

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The Coat Story

True story. A couple of years ago now, my son Ethan needed a new outfit to wear to prom...he didn't have any nice dress clothes. This was in March. Ethan hates shopping, especially for clothes! So Cheryl and I knew this was not going to be a fun outing. And sure enough, it was not. After trying several stores, we ended up at J C Penny. Ethan is very frustrating to shop for. "Ethan, do you like this shirt?..."I don't care." "Ethan, what color pants do you want?....I don't care." That is the pattern. So after a couple of frustrating hours, facing his indifference and the noise and crowds, we were all at the ends of our rope. I noticed a rack of winter coats in the Men's section, so I took a break from Ethan and went to look at it. I found a coat that I really liked and I tried it on. It fit great, but it was too expensive. Plus it was already warm by now...Spring was in bloom. So I hung the coat up and went back to Ethan. We did battle awhile longer until we finally found what he needed. By now, we were all exhausted and mad at each other and the world in general. As we were paying for his clothes, I was ready to get the hell out of there and go home. But at least Ethan was going to look good for prom! When we got home, we all relaxed and peace was restored. And we did get a great deal on the clothes. The only negatives were our heightened tempers and the loss of a pair of glasses that I had somehow misplaced in one of the stores we visited. 

Fast forward about five months. It was now the end of August. I went back to J C Penny to look for some dress shirts. While I was there, I noticed in the back of the Men's section there was a small rack of winter coats...the same coats I had tried on in March. And this time, they were marked down to $50...they had been close to $300 when I had tried them on in the Spring. But there were only a few coats left on the rack. I looked through them and there was only one coat that was my size. I tried it on and it fit great. This coat was going to be mine. Before I took it off, I put my hands in the pocket and felt something...hmmm....what is this? It was my glasses...the pair I had lost in March. The one and only coat that remained in my size was the same coat I had tried on while we were shopping for Ethan in March. Small world.

Pablo Casals and Robert Johnson make history...on the same day.

I had the Bach Cello Suites on my "must listen" list this week. I got around to it this past weekend, and the cellist I listened to was Pablo Casals (1876-1973). Casals is regarded as the first true pioneer of this beautiful instrument. He had a long and distinguished career...he even played at the White House for JFK. And he was the first cellist to record the Bach Cello Suites.
And this is where the story gets truly fascinating. On November 1, 2018, I was listening to Pablo Casals' recording of the Bach Cello Suites. The sound is surprisingly good for such an old recording. As I read the liner notes, I learned that he recorded two of these at Abbey Road Studios, where the Beatles recorded most of their music in the 1960's. (I walked across this same crosswalk when I was in London in 1987).

Anyway, as I am listening to Casals' recording and reading about him, (and loving the music) I discovered that he played a concert in my hometown of Kansas City, MO in 1916. I also learned that on November 23, 1936, the same day he recorded two of the Cello Suites, another legendary musician was also making a recording that would change the world...the SAME day. On that day, Robert Johnson was in a small hotel room in San Antonio recording songs that would later inspire just about everyone...the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, etc etc....
Here is a great article I found that tells the story about two very different men and music who none-the-less changed history.

https://www.npr.org/2011/11/23/142700464/robert-johnson-and-pablo-casals-game-changers-turn-75

Pablo Casala played a recital in Kansas City on February 8, 1916. He shared the program with a famous tenor named Paul Reimers. Here is the review I found in the Kansas City Times from the next day. Seems like Mr. Reimers stole the show!

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THE CASALS-REIMERS RECITAL

A Great Cellist and a Charming Tenor for the Fifth Fritschy Event

     It was not the expected beauty of Pablo Casals' playing yesterday afternoon at the Schubert Theater that gave the audience its most obvious pleasure, but the unexpected qualities in the singing of Paul Reimers, the German Tenor, who was associated with the famed cellist in joint recital. Reimers is that rare type of artist-a singer who places interpretation first.

     The concert, fifth in the Fritschy series, offered a succession of surprises. First was the attractive stage setting for which the packed stage of Mme. Homer's concert and the bleak and battered drop that Paderewski made his audience forget, failed to prepare those present. A gasp of surprise and pleasure greeted the pretty scene with its cleverly arranged lights and then the audience settled back to luxuriate in the Casals tone.

     With that excellent artist, Maurice Eisner, at the piano, the Handel sonata was profoundly beautiful. The clear song of the slow movement disclosed limpid depth of tone, resonance, warmth, and carrying power. Mr. Casals enjoys the reputation of being the greatest cellist of his day, and his work throughout the program bore out this rating.

     But the apt and elegant Saint-Saens does not compare with the fine, high beauty of Handel. The concerto seemed superficial, full of bright passage work for the violincello, but lacking in character. If it proved anything yesterday, it was that the old music is Handel is still more vital than the new music of Frenchmen, whose artifice and dexterity cannot compete with inspiration. Still, the skill demanded was something to excite admiration. At times, the voice of the cello, warm and human, matching its timbre with that of the piano, drew fanciful figures against a rich tonal background. Again, the voices mingled in bewildering fantasy.But in nothing was there the transparency of tone disclosed by the Handel music until the last group of numbers, introduced by an aria of Bach and including three lighter pieces. These awakened almost as much applause as that accorded the tenor, and the cellist had to return many times to bow his thanks. But he gave only one encore.

     Mr. Reimers is the sort of lieder singer who, in times of peace, remain in Germany. It is understood they find a full and complete appreciation only in their own land. But Americans are learning appreciation, too-as witness the success of Wuellner a few years ago, and of Julia Culp and others. Reimers is not like any other. He has a good tenor voice, which he can make, upon occasion, sounds just about as he pleases, express much or little, humor or sadness. He commands tones sweet as honey, but never sweet except for purposes of musical wooing or hoodwinking, or some other chicanery in which he takes delight.

     It was most thoughtful of him to recognize the audience's non-German limitations, and tell in his captivating English the little stories in the songs. Some of these were French, some American and one was a fine old Russian hymn. There were many encores-four or five and even then the audience was not satisfied perhaps because Mr. Reimers had been rather a surprise and his singing has a piquancy and flavor rarely encountered.

     Every seat was filled and there were a few standees.

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A Great Chord from Heitor Villa-Lobos

My newest listening challenge: to listen to the 17 string quartets by one of my favorite composers, Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887-1959). VL wrote his first string quartet in 1915, his last in 1957. The general consensus amongst music scholars appears to be they are groundbreaking works, though at times inconsistent or wandering. (I got this from Lionel Salter of Gramophone Magazine)  But they are always original and demonstrate a wide range of tones, melodies, textures and  musical ideas.
Here is a great chord that appears very early in his String Quartet no. 1.

The second measure is the chord. My friend and music theory expert, Dr. Reynold Simpson, Associate Professor of Music at the University of Missouri at Kansas City, says this of the chord:
"That's simply a G9 chord (the A in the second violin is a major 9th above the root in the cello.) The 9 is simply an extension of the stack of thirds that creates a 7 chord (1-3-5-7-9).
It may be simple, but it packs an emotional punch.

Take a listen The chord appears at the 1:07 mark.

 I will report back when I have made it though all 17 string quartets. 

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What do we want??? More Guitar Music-Segovia plays Kansas City in 1959. Alfredo Casella, and some Mahler trivia.

I'll start with my obsession for classical guitar music. OK...there you have it... I am obsessed. Not quite to the level of piano my enthusiasm, but oh so very close. I love the sound of classical guitars, and no one means more to this form of music than Andres Segovia. He almost single-handedly developed and championed music for this instrument in the twentieth century. An instrument that just about every composer had ignored or forsaken for much of history, Segovia mounted a campaign to prove that there was a market for this sound. He convinced composers to write new pieces that he toured the world performing. He legitimized the guitar as a solo instrument.

Andres Segovia performed in Kansas City, my birthplace, on February 10, 1959. I want to share the review of that performance from the Kansas City Times with you:

EXPLORE NEW PATHS IN FIELD OF MUSIC

Segovia plays his guitar to resounding Applause with the Philharmonic

THE ORCHESTRA SINGS OUT

Schubert and Tchaikovsky Pieces Are Enjoyed by Sellout Audience

By Clyde Neibarger

(The Star's Music Editor)

     Some effective crusading for musical causes was accomplished at the Philharmonic subscription concert at the Music Hall last night. Andres Segovia, master guitarist, gave a convincing demonstration of the guitar as a legitimate concert instrument. The sellout audience approved heartily.

     The orchestra, likewise in the role of demonstrator, helped Hans Schwieger, conductor, explore neglected paths in the literature, with a clean-cut performance of the little-heard Tchaikovsky Thrd Symphony, a worthy predecessor of the Russian composer's later and better known Fourth and Fifth and Sixth.

Soloist Steals Show

     Tossed in for good measure was a Franz Schubert gem, the convivial, song-like "Rosamunde" overture, which gave the orchestra opportunity to engross the listeners, from the very beginning of this eighth program in the subscription series. It was well paced, crisply articulated by the orchestra.

     The tall, courtly, balding, and gray Segovia definitely was a show stealer. A low bench, a chair, a footrest, and his prized Spanish guitar were his equipment.

     With a small orchestra of 34 as his capable collaborator, Segovia charmed and completely captivated his rapt listeners with his playing of the Guitar Concerto in D Major composed especially for him by the Italian, Mario Castelnuevo-Tedesco.

Orchestra Matches Mood

     For most in the audience, this was a unique experience. The concerto itself is a rather fragile, dainty work of art. Segovia played it that way. His interpretation was aristocratic. The tones were not big but they were beautiful, resonant, and carried far. Schwieger and the orchestra matched his moods marvelously

     The cadenza passages, all too brief, exploited the guitar's plaintive charm and the artist's magic in plucking six strings. 

     Big applause brought Segovia back for several acknowledgements before he graciously assented to what the audience wanted-more guitar music. So there were three encores for unaccompanied guitar. They were the familiar Gavotte by Bach, the Villa-Lobos "Study," and a Spanish folk song.

Opportunity for Strings

     There was a near ovation too, for Schwieger and the orchestra as a well-earned reward for for their performance of the 45 minute Symphony No. 3, the "Polish," by Tchaikovsky. It built up from an unassuming beginning to emotion packed episodes, in which the woodwinds shone and the strings finally had their chance to sing out. The music reflected a younger Tchaikovsky, though we has 35 when he wrote it, in 1875. True, his later symphonies overshadow it. Granted that, it is over-longish and occasionally tedious, it is a refreshing slant on the famed composer.

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Talk about a long concert.....when Mahler's Symphony No. 4 was given it's first performance in Amsterdam on October 23, 1904, it was played twice. Here is the explanation given by Alma Mahler;

"Mahler wrote me a detailed account. He had to go on to Amsterdam where he stayed with Mengelberg, and felt increasingly at home. He conducted the Second and the Fourth. It was the first performance of the fourth in Amsterdam and Mengelberg put it twice in the same program: Fourth Symphony. Intermission. Fourth Symphony. Mahler conducted for the first time, Mengelberg the second, with Mahler sitting comfortably in the stalls to hear his own work played to him. Mengelberg, he said when he came home, had grasped his meaning so perfectly that it was just as if he had been conducting himself."

 

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My friend Byl Strother suggested a new composer for me to explore...Alfredo Casella. First off...I have never actually met Byl. We are friends on Facebook through another cool dude named Patrick Neas, whom I have had the pleasure of meeting and interviewing for this online journal. Both men are classical music Ninjas. But I feel like I know Byl, and I welcome his thoughts about all kforms of music. Anyway, Byl shared recently that he likes the music of Alfredo Casella, an Italian composer with whom I was not familiar. So I instantly jumped into action and explored Casella's music. Wow. Amazing music. <y first dive was his Symphony No. 1. I heard Mahler, Strauss and Brahms...and maybe some Holst. Turns out that Casella was a contemporary of Mahler, and he championed Mahler's work in France where he lived and had studied with the likes of Maurice Ravel. He was also acquainted with Debussy and Stravinsky. I found a great article by David Gallagher that includes this great passage about Casella's connection to Gustav Mahler:

"The expense of performing Mahler’s huge work could only be covered by financial backing from two different musical societies; but they hated each other. It took Casella over a year to charm them into collaborating—and afterwards it was brickbats as usual: the concert’s main underwriter, the immensely rich president of the Société des Grandes Auditions Musicales, Countess Elisabeth Greffulhe (Marcel Proust’s model for his Duchesse de Guermantes), complained that the rival Société des Amis de la Musique had ‘behaved like crooks’. At the end of the symphony the Paris public cheered Mahler to the rafters; Debussy walked out halfway through. Mahler’s heart-on-sleeve musical aesthetic was anathema to many in the early twentieth-century Parisian musical establishment, who amused themselves by punning on the similarity of his surname to the French word for ‘misfortune’. As leader of the small group of diehards who championed Mahler’s music, Casella—tall, thin, long-nosed—was dubbed ‘l’oiseau de Malhe[u]r’, ‘the bird of ill-omen’.

Probably no composer ever affected Casella so profoundly as Mahler did for almost a decade at this time. ‘Discovering Mahler’s symphonies (‘the greatest work of musical genius since Wagner’s Parsifal’) was the crucial event of my artistic education,’ he said, recalling that ‘Mahler was sincerely moved when he discovered I knew them practically by heart’. Casella wrote a stream of enthusiastic articles, not least as the only French or Italian critic who travelled to Munich for the première, later in 1910, of Mahler’s Eighth (the ‘Symphony of a Thousand’)—the supreme triumph of Mahler’s life. His sudden death the following year was a professional as well as personal shock for Casella: Mahler was planning not only to conduct Casella’s rhapsody Italia, Op. 11, and Suite in C major, Op. 13, but to engage the Italian as his assistant when he returned to the Vienna Opera. ‘I have a great liking for the young man,’ Mahler told another of his supporters in France, William Ritter, ‘and I have high hopes of him’. When French publishers rejected Italia and the Suite, Mahler convinced his own publisher Universal Edition to issue them, negotiating, Casella recalled, ‘a deal I could never have dreamed of’; he commissioned Casella to arrange his Seventh Symphony for piano duet; he presented ‘my great friend’, ‘pioneer’ Casella with signed scores and photographs. A giant photo of Mahler, ‘this man of extraordinary goodness, warmth and generosity, sincerity and altruism’, took pride of place on Casella’s wall for the rest of his life.

Casella’s own Symphony No. 2 in C minor is his most enduring—and deeply indebted—homage to Mahler. Though the Italian scholar Quirino Principe perhaps exaggerates in calling Casella’s first movement ‘almost pure Mahler’, its sources are palpable, above all a startlingly prominent direct quotation of a march theme from the finale of Mahler’s Second—here transposed and transformed into a lyrical melody. Casella revised this movement after the symphony’s première in 1910, but the manuscript of the first version is lost: was he making it more like Mahler or less? From the very opening notes, with their tolling bells, Casella’s symphony also saturates itself in the Mahlerian soundworld, its tensions between major and minor and its very timbres: Casella eulogised Mahler’s ‘miraculous ear, his incomparable gift for incessantly inventing new sonorities’, pinpointing instruments’ individual, contrasted qualities rather than blending them homogeneously. The slow third movement of Casella’s Second Symphony—the first part he completed (early in 1908)—is simply the central movement of his First Symphony, with a single bar added at its midpoint, and reorchestrated in a far more Mahler-like manner; it even keeps the original key of F sharp minor, a tritone away from the Second Symphony’s C. Curiously, the musical material sometimes seems ill at ease in its new clothes, the first version feeling a better fit—with the exception of the theme that Casella adopts to germinate the Second Symphony’s ‘Epilogue’. Casella’s finale, albeit less monumental than the epic apotheosis of Mahler’s Second, traces a similar trajectory from darkness to triumphant C major light, marching through frequent reminiscences of Mahler’s later symphonies, the Third, Sixth and Seventh.

Only in the second movement does Casella step out of Mahler’s ‘imperious shadow’—as he admitted—into those of Rimsky-Korsakov and Balakirev. Casella had met both composers on his first visit to Russia in 1907: Rimsky gave him valuable advice in orchestration, while Casella’s orchestral version of Balakirev’s virtuoso piano piece Islamey attracted the admiration of its composer—among others: ‘a blond young man wearing enormous glasses approached me,’ Casella recollected, ‘saying timidly that he would love to study the score’. It was Igor Stravinsky: a year older than Casella, but then still unknown. The second movement of Casella’s Second is prophetic too, its driving percussive rhythms sometimes pre-echoing later Russian composers like Mossolov (Iron Foundry), Prokofiev or Shostakovich (another composer who learnt much from Mahler, and who is often brought to mind by Casella’s penchant for the xylophone); or indeed later Casella, of the 1920s and 1930s.

Another Mahlerian concordance is that Casella apparently conceived his Second in dramatic terms, but was ambivalent about publicising the fact. Casella wrote at the top of his first movement manuscript ‘Prologue to a tragedy’, and later released the piece alone under that title, mirroring Mahler’s reworking of his tone poem Todtenfeier (‘Funeral Ceremony’) as the first movement of his own Second Symphony; at the end of the ‘Epilogue’ Casella scribbled ‘Finis Comoedia’. If this world is a comedy to those that think and a tragedy to those that feel, Casella and Mahler are poles apart: Casella’s music conveys an objective quality, as if observing the drama dispassionately from outside; Mahler’s is quintessentially self-confessional, a living experience of emotional extremes—like two other darkness-to-light symphonies with (in their case quiet) C major endings: Asrael, another C minor Second, in which Josef Suk (Bohemian-born, as was Mahler) confronts the devastating deaths of first his teacher Dvořák and then his wife, Dvořák’s daughter Otilie; and the Third Symphony of Arnold Bax (a British composer also greatly influenced by the Russians), a final laying-to-rest of his personal inner demons." 

It really is a small world. But we need to open our brains and hearts to explore it. So I've listened to all three of Casella's symphnies, some of his piano music and this...my favorite work so far...his Harp Sonata (1943). 

Philadelphia Memories

The Philadelphia Orchestra came to Kansas City this week. The concert was Wednesday night at Helzberg Hall and they were here as part of the Harriman Jewell Series. The Philadelphia Orchestra has been around a long time....since 1900 in fact...and has long been one of the "Big 5" (Chicago, Cleveland, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia) American Orchestras. They are known for their lush strings...a trademark defined by the likes of Leopold Stokowski and Eugene Ormandy, two of the most iconic conductors of all time.
Yannick Nezet-Seguin is their current conductor, a position he has held since 2012. He is signed through the 2025-26 season. I will come back to him in a moment.But first, I want to go back to May 19, 1981. That's when I saw the Philadelphia Orchestra the first time. Eugene Ormandy was still the conductor then, and he brought the Philadelphia Orchestra to Omaha, Nebraska for a performance at the Orpheum Theater. My Dad made sure we had tickets for this concert...I went with him and my mom. I wish I could find the program. I know it's in a box somewhere, but I do remember that they played Prokofiev's Symphony no. 1, the "Classical Symphony." To this day, it remains one of my most special concert memories. The "sound" was unbelievable...lush, rich...decadent. Every attack was precise. Every phrase was developed with care and intent. The dynamic range was almost limitless. We floated out of the Orpheum when it was over. My dad, who had already seen all of the Big 5, said it was one of the greatest concerts he had seen, and that says a lot.
Little did I know that just over a year later...June 17, 1982, I would see Maestro Ormandy conduct the Philadelphia Orchestra again, this time at the Mann Music Center in Philadelphia. The program for that performance was:
Prelude to Die Meistersinger - Wagner
Romeo and Juliet Overture - Tchaikovsky
Hungarian Fantasia for Piano and Orchestra - Liszt
Concerto in the Hungarian Style - Liszt/Tchaikovsky
Polonaise from Eugene Onegin - Tchaikovsky
Les Preludes - Liszt
Even outdoors, the sound was exceptional and the performance was once again stellar.
So yes, I have great memories and high expectations for this fine orchestra and I was curious how it would sound 36 years later.
A lot has changed of course since then. I don't know if any of the musicians in the orchestra today were part of the ensemble back when Ormandy conducted. From the look of it, very few if any were. The current ensemble appears very youthful, and much more diverse. Back in the day, it was almost all men. And I don't recall seeing any people of color then either. That's just the way it was. But not anymore. The youth and diversity of the musicians in the orchestra today is very inspiring. The technical prowess of the musicians today is also top notch. It was certainly evident Wednesday night. Every attack, every phrase, every entrance and all of the notes were rock solid.
The sound? Was it still the famous "Philadelphia" sound? I'd say so. Playing in our Helzberg Hall didn't hurt either! The strings were lush..sure...but I was equally impressed with the other sections too, and I thought it was a very well balanced sound. The strings did not steal the show, which, even as a violinist, I'd have to say is a good thing. Maestro Yannick has figured out that to win in the big leagues, one needs a good balance of offense and defense.
My friend Patrick Neas, whom I consider a music expert, is also a great writer for KC Arts Beat. Patrick wrote a great review of the performance, as well as a great article leading up to the concert for the Kansas City Star, and he interviewed David Kim, the orchestra's concertmaster. Kim told a story about asking Yo-Yo Ma if he believes the Philadelphia Orchestra still has that trademark sound. If anyone is qualified to answer that question, it would certainly be Mr. Ma. And he did confirm it is true...the famous sound is still alive and well.
As I have stated, I don't consider myself a critic and I that's not a role I want play. I do enjoy sharing my thoughts and reflections of a performance, but please take them as such...just thoughts and perceptions. I am not a music scholar. I just love music.
Nezet-Seguin has a ton of energy! He does not use a baton...just his hands, which he uses to great effect shaping, molding, pulling, squeezing, chopping and caressing every note, phrase, and sound from his musicians. On the podium, Nezet-Seguin MOVES...up down, around...he bends, dances, struts and pretty much any other adverb you can think of. He is clearly IN the music and it flows through him. The musicians watched him like a hawk. I could not always see his beat...but they never missed or dropped it. Especially in the Tchaikovsky...he and Ms.Batiashvili seemed to have some sort of mind-meld that kept them in sync..which he was able to relay to the orchestra at the speed of light.
Liar, Suite from Marnie by Muhly kicked things off. I had not heard this piece before and I enjoyed it very much. Some of the words/comments I wrote to express how I felt about it were: brooding, syncopated, rhythmic, pedal-tone oriented, somewhat beautiful but not sweet, angular, phrases are not aligned and very long musical lines. It felt like there were two pieces being played at the same time that were not necessarily lined up together...and that is why it worked so well. The oboe and trombone solos stood out, as did the gong, which was used in a sort of pedal fashion a couple of times, washing under the entire thing.
Lisa Batiashvili played the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. Played might not ever be the right word for this concerto. We now recognize this as one of the truly great violin concertos, but it did not start out that way. When it premiered in December 1881, as the program noted, the critic Eduard Hanslick wrote the famous review saying  "Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto gives us for the first time the hideous notion that there can be music that stinks to the ear." Ouch. Tchaikovsky's brother Modest wrote that "Hanslick's criticism hurt Tchaikovsky's feelings very deeply. To his life's end, he never forgot it, and knew it by heart..." It is a very physical concerto and demands great stamina, huge chops, and courage I might say too. It demands everything a violinist has to pull it off well. The delicate harmonic passages immediately following a four-octave, lightning-fast arpeggio run illustrates the span of control necessary to play this "beast". I say beast affectionately...what was once vulgar and obscene in Tchaikovsky's day is now regarded as beautiful and inspiring. Depending on my mood, I might say this is my favorite violin concerto of all, even over Beethoven's or Mendelssohn's or Brahms'..
D major is great for the violin. It offers the most amazing double-stops for the biggest and brightest sound possible. (Beethoven and Brahms also used D major for their violin concertos.) I thought Batiashvili crushed it...just nailed it. Her technique seemed flawless to me. Her violin came to life and her tone was rich and warm. Nezet-Seguin and the orchestra did the most important thing well....they stayed out of her way. They played SOFTLY when she was playing. They did not overpower her nor get in her way. But when the melody or phrase was handed from the violin to the orchestra, they POUNCED! Pianissimo to Fortissimo instantly. And then back down to Pianissimo for the violin's next entrance.
The clarinet shined. The pizzicato of the strings was a highlight for me. How many times can you say that?!? I loved the doubled flutes in the Finale. It was pretty amazing that after the first movement and cadenza, her violin was still in tune! It is such a "shred" piece...I would expect the strings to surrender at some point. And so the violin and orchestra worked very well together...tempos, entrances, balances....all were excellent. Nezet-Seguin and Batiashvili were in constant communication, literally a foot or two from each other, making eye contact, facial expressions, smiling, and challenging each other to give it all they had.
And then there was a standing ovation when it was over. We were also treated to an encore. Accompanied by Nezet-Seguin on piano, Ms. Batiashvili played "None But the Lonely Heart," also by Tchaikovsky.
Then it was time for wine! Yep, there are several bars in the Hall that serve beer/wine/cocktails. So my mom and I had pre-ordered our wine for the intermission. We enjoyed this and took our traditional "cheers" selfie to share on social media.

After intermission, we were treated to Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances, Op. 45. The KC Symphony played this last weekend, so it was still fresh in my head. How cool to learn that Rachmaninoff composed this piece for Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra and had its premiere in Philadelphia in 1941. This work really allowed Nezet-Seguin and the musicians to shine. Every section has substantial material to dig into.
The best line of the evening came after the Rachmaninoff. After much applause and bowing, Nezet-Seguin came out with a microphone and addressed the audience. I am paraphrasing here but he said something like "I feel like we've given you a pretty substantial meal. But you are used to BBQ...you have a little room left." With this, they treated us to a gorgeous version of Rachmaninoff's Vocalise. Rich? Yep. Lush? Yep. Decadent? Absolutely. I was totally full now...this was a very filling desert.
The Philadelphia Orchestra has not been immune in recent years to labor strife and fiscal uncertainty. It appears to be on solid ground now, and just like the KC Chiefs, the Philadelphia Orchestra has the right quarterback at the helm and will be in good hands for many years to come. Thank you for coming to our city and treating us to such a great performance.

The best season of all...Kansas City Symphony Season!

"There's nothing quite like the happy expectation and excitement of a new season!" - Michael Stern

Saturday night (last night as I write this) was the first concert of the new season of the Kansas City Symphony. Once again, my mom (Judi) and I are season ticket subscribers and we have the same seats at Helzberg Hall (Lower Grand Tier Left Row AAA Seats 515 and 516). I love the side view from these seats. The sound is still excellent, but we get to see the expressions of the conductor more than if we were in the center of the Hall.
Fall is here. My kids have both returned to college....the house is very quiet again. My wife is back to work (she's a 5th grade teacher). Kids everywhere are back to school. Football season is here, and baseball is getting close to postseason play. The weather is still warm, but the days are shorter and the light from the sun is beginning to move farther away from us."But the days grow short when you reach September." - September Song
I was really looking forward to the start of the new symphony season. With all of the changes happening around me, I have been feeling a bit blue lately. These regular doses of live music mean so much to me. The chance to spend time with my family on these occasions is equally special. I usually go with my mom to 3-4 of the concerts, she takes her sister to one, and I take Cheryl to the others. In addition, there are usually 3-4 concerts that are not in our series that I want to see every season, so we pick up tickets at the box office for these additional performances. These outings bring us together and surround us with the great music and people all year long.
Frank Byrne, the Executive Director of the KC Symphony, started things off by welcoming us all back for the new season. This is Mr. Byrne's last season as Executive Director, a position he has held since 2002. He announced his retirement in May and he will be truly missed. Under his leadership, the Kansas City Symphony has established itself as one of the most financially sound and artistically gifted orchestras in the nation. I have always appreciated the sincerity and warmth he brings to his pre-concert announcements, as well as his infectious passion and enthusiasm for the music and the musicians of this orchestra. I think I can speak for everyone in the audience when I say, he makes us feel at home in Helzberg Hall.
Saturday's performance began with a rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. (Neither my mom nor I took a knee...nor did any of the musicians or audience members in case you were wondering.) We all stood proudly.
Maestro Stern then made his entrance and he too took a moment to welcome us back for the new season. He has such a great rapport with the audience and he makes it feel like he truly cares about each one of us. He also has a wonderful sense of humor.
Maestro Stern explained the thoughts behind the programming of this concert. Dancing is the central theme...Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances, Aaron Jay Kernis' New Era Dance, and Beethoven's Triple Concerto in C major (the final movement is a polonaise based on a Polish dance.)
I had never heard the New Era Dance, so I was looking forward to it. At only six minute long, it is a furiously paced, almost helter skelter rhythmic extravaganza. Tons of percussion, sirens, whistles and musicians chanting are just a few of the many elements in this piece. This got the concert off to a very fun start.
Next on the program was the Beethoven Triple Concerto. I must confess that I had not heard this piece until the day before when I listened to it for the first time at home. Former concertmaster of the KC Symphony, Noah Geller, was joined by our current Principal cellist, Mark Gibbs, and pianist Sean Chen, as the soloists. As soon as the downbeat was given, they were off and running with unbridled enthusiasm. Geller was dancing as he played, Gibbs, though seated, was swinging and swaying, and Chen was also bopping about on his piano bench. Logistically speaking, this seems like a difficult piece to pull off. When there is only one soloist, balance and coordination between the orchestra and soloist can be very challenging. But with three soloists, it must be three times as hard. Stern had his work cut out for him, especially with his back to the three soloists. Chen also had his back to Gibbs and Geller, and he was frequently stealing glances behind him to make sure they were still there...which they were. Each soloist displayed technical mastery of their respective instrument. Geller and Chen also had outstanding intonation and tone. There is a "pocket" that musicians have to find with respect to tempo when they play together. It is not a rigid metronomic absolute...there is a bit of wiggle room that allows the musicians to gel..they can push the temp together or they can pull it back if they want. So long as they stay together, the music will work. These three guys found the pocket and the orchestra did not get in their way, which is their job.I felt like the tempi in the Beethoven were really a lot of fun.
The orchestra played with light touches...it was not too heavy nor ponderous. And the overall balance was just right.
Following the Beethoven, the three soloists played a very jazzy piece as an encore. I could not hear Sean Chen's announcement of the piece they were playing...so I don't know what it is, but it had a jazzy-ragtime feel to it. Very fun. Very danceable.
Intermission at Helzberg Hall is also a special part of the evening. There are bars all throughout the place stocked with beer, wine, cocktails as well as coffee and cookies. Our usual treat is a cold glass of wine. Cheers.

We talked about the first half of the program and enjoyed people watching while we sipped our wine. The audience at these concerts is very eclectic. One sees people of all ages, styles and backgrounds. I am especially happy to see so many young people coming to these concerts. They are critical for the future support of the performing arts in this, and all communities.
Before the second half started, Maestro Stern once again took the microphone and spent a few moments welcoming the newest members of the orchestra. He made a funny comment about how Noah Geller "used" to be his friend...alluding to Geller's departure to the Seattle Symphony after a long run as our concertmaster. I'm sure it is bittersweet to say good-bye to such a good friend and colleague...and after delivering this funny zinger, he made the comment that once you are in the family, you will always be in the family. This really stuck with me. Over the years, Stern has often referred to the musicians of the KCS in terms of family. It comes across in a very genuine way...and even those of us in the audience have this feeling. Week after week, year after year, we attend these concerts and become familiar with the musicians. We feel like we know them to some degree, and develop a real sense of appreciation and admiration for their art.
Another question I did have...my mom and I both noticed this....Maestro Stern made a funny point of needing his glasses to read the list of new musicians this year. But he does not use glasses to see the tiny print of the score while he conducts. What's up with that?
Rachmaninoff would have been pleased by this performance of his Symphonic Dances. First off, he was a genius to include a saxophone in the orchestration. The smooth, velvety tone of the sax in the opening movement is irresistible. I only wish it was used in more than the first movement!
Each section played great in my opinion. Our trumpet section has a very polished, bright tone. They look so calm back there but when they play, the sound shoots out from the stage like a tonal-laser. The horns are so solid. They are the backbone of any orchestra. Our horn section can do the heavy lifting needed, but they are also capable of great touch and tone. The rest of the brass section and our new tuba player are rock-freaking solid.
Woodwinds? Check. Go down the list and you won't find any weakness. Strings? Lush. They would make Nelson Riddle and Gustav Mahler proud. Percussion? We have that too...covered like a blanket.
I am not an expert, and perhaps there were kinks in this opening performance. Just watching the opening week of college and NFL football, you can see it takes time for teams to get into a rhythm. But I did not detect that in the KCS performance this weekend. Entrances and attacks were sharp. Intonation and tone were excellent. Tempi were solid. It seemed to me like they are already in mid-season form. I can't wait for the next concert.

Rachmaninoff made six concert appearances in Kansas City between 1920 and 1938. I wrote about this a few years ago. In case you have not seen it, here is the link.

http://timhazlett.blogspot.com/2014/11/sergei-rachmaninoff-in-kansas-city-and.html