Friday, January 28, 2005

Scotsman.com News - Features - The blagger's guide to Scottish composers

http://news.scotsman.com/features.cfm?id=90682005

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The blagger's guide to Scottish composers

DIANE MACLEAN

NOVELISTS, poets, artists, actors, musicians - you don’t have to work very hard to reel off a long list of famous creative Scots. But if you were asked to include great Scottish composers, you might struggle. And yet, think how much more cultured you would sound with just a smattering of knowledge about our musical maestros from across the ages. So here are our suggestions for the top five Scottish composers you really should know about. We hope it helps when it comes to pub quizzes, or it just enables you to sound smug at parties.

Robert Carver (1485 – 1570)
Commonly regarded as the most dynamic 16th century Renaissance composer, Robert Carver was a monk and Canon at the Abbey of Scone in Perthshire. Unsurprisingly, he is best known for his sacred choral music, which includes the mass L’Homme Armé and his motet for 19 voices O Bone Jesu. His work is still performed and recorded today and is noted for the gradual build-up of ideas towards an explosive resolution in the final passages. Unusually, Carver looked to Europe for his influence, so his work was unlike anything his contemporaries in the rest of England and Wales were producing at the time.

Unfortunately, most Scottish Latin Church Music written at this time was destroyed during the Reformation. The only music to survive can be found in the Carver Choirbook (National Library of Scotland). Because of this, it is difficult to say whether Carver was an isolated genius or part of a dynamic brotherhood composing across Scotland.

Do say: "I just love his florid late-Renaissance polyphonic style, it’s such a seamless mix of Scottish and Flemish influences."

Don’t say: "Robert Carver, isn’t he the chef who does a great chocolate mousse cake?"

James MacMillan (1959 –
Ayrshire-born James MacMillan is considered to be the pre-eminent Scottish composer of his generation, and probably the only Scottish composer most people could name. He studied music at Edinburgh University before moving to Durham and Manchester to complete his doctorate. When he returned to Scotland in the 1980s his composing really took off.

His first work to gain global recognition was the much-acclaimed BBC Proms premier of The Confession of Isobel Gowdie (1990). Plaudits and job offers rolled in and his next work Veni, Veni Emmanuel, which he wrote for Evelyn Glennie, secured his reputation.

MacMillan's music is known for its energy, directness and emotional power. His work draws from Scottish folk music, while his strong religious views and interest in political ideas inform both the sound and the subject matter of his music. He continues to write and is also an internationally acclaimed conductor.

Do say: "His uncanny knack of juxtaposing diverse musical styles, combined with the almost pagan eurythmics of his percussion is completely sublime."

Don’t say: "When is he going to write music I can whistle in the shower?"

James Oswald (1710 - 1769)
James Oswald started out as a dancing master in Dunfermline in the early 1730s. He later moved to London where he set up his own music publishing house where he produced The Caledonian Pocket Companion – a collection of Scottish folk tunes. He was much in demand as a teacher, publisher and composer, and crowned his success in 1761 when he was appointed Chamber Composer to King George III.

He published much of his work anonymously, or using the pseudonym "David Rizzio". (Which has led some confused historians to suppose that Mary Queen of Scot’s secretary, David Rizzio, was a prolific composer of Scottish music!).

Oswald left a large body of works for voice and guitar, but his best-known peice is Airs for the Seasons - a huge work comprising 12 airs per season. He was influenced by Italian composition, but also incorporated Scottish folktunes in his music. While some may consider his work "rustic" (some did even back in the 18th century) others find it refreshingly unaffected.

Do say: "By guitar don’t you mean 'citter' – the well-known 18th century wire-strung musical instrument?"

Don’t say: "D'you think when King George III hired him he said ' You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps!'"

Thea Musgrave (1928 -
Thea Musgrave, musician and conductor of worldwide acclaim, is on record as saying: "Yes, I am a woman, and I am a composer, but rarely at the same time," so don’t make the mistake of thinking she’s reached the top five because of her gender alone.

She was born in Edinburgh and studied music in the city before moving to the Conservatoire in Paris. Although she now lives in America, Musgrave continues to be involved with Scotland – returning to conduct her opera Mary Queen of Scots at the Edinburgh International Festival and more recently working with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra.

Musgrave likes to find new ways of using sound and motion into her music. In her Clarinet Concerto the soloist moves round the stage area – altering the acoustics and physical dynamics of the performance. More recently she has used electronic instruments to further explore her sense of sound.

Do say: "I just adore the way she plays with the sonic possibilities of spatial acoustics."

Don’t say: "Didn’t she marry a highly respected American composer?"

Hamish MacCunn (1868 – 1916)
The 19th century was reasonably prolific in terms of Scottish composers – especially ones whose surname began with Mac. Alexander Mackenzie and JB McEwen were both possibles for inclusion here, but MacCunn made it to the list because of his Overture Land of the Mountain and Flood, which is still performed today. (If it helps, it was the theme tune from the BBC Television series Sutherland’s Law.)

Like the young Mozart, MacCunn showed musical promise early, and, in common with most Scottish musicians of this time, moved to London to study at the recently established Royal College of Music. His music was very much in the romantic tradition of Walter Scott – indeed he is thought to have used passages from Scott as inspiration. His pre-occupation with Scottish themes brought him great popularity at the time, but also proved his undoing, as the public grew bored of his nostalgic and overly lyrical style.

Do say: "His lilting rhythms and lyrical themes transport me effortlessly into the misty glens of the Scottish Highlands. "

Don’t say: "Crivvens. Not another Scottish composer who used Scottish folk tunes as a starting point for their music."

©2005 Scotsman.com

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Classical Net - Basic Repertoire List

http://www.classical.net/music/rep/top.html

"for Building a Library of Classical Recordings"

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Opera Review: Parsifal - Vienna State Opera

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January 15, 2005 OPERA REVIEW | 'PARSIFAL'

Wagner Demystified, With a Human Face

By ANNE MIDGETTE

VIENNA, Jan. 14 - Sir Simon Rattle, arguably the leading conductor in the world, had never conducted at the Vienna State Opera until Wednesday night, when he made his debut with a bang, and with Wagner's five-hour "Parsifal."

"Parsifal" is commonly labeled Wagner's Christian opera. At the very least it is a tale about redemption, and many conductors limn it in hovering clouds of mysticism.

But Sir Simon gave it a human face. His reading was anchored at every moment in what was happening on stage, aiming not for transcendence but for human emotions expressed in human terms. He drew lyrical passages of pure singing out of the score, as if even the orchestra were speaking with a human voice.

Another major factor in this humanity was the Amfortas of Thomas Quasthoff, who first did the role here when the production opened last April. Mr. Quasthoff, one of the most gifted singers alive, was born with physical deformities caused by the drug Thalidomide: around four feet tall, with hands growing almost directly out of his shoulders and no knee joints, he long avoided the opera stage in favor of concerts and recitals.

Sir Simon helped persuade him to take the plunge into opera, starting with the small role of Don Fernando in Beethoven's "Fidelio" at the Salzburg Easter Festival in 2003. Amfortas is only his second opera role. He was brave to try it, and right to do so.

Mr. Quasthoff has a deep, pliant and vital voice, and he invests everything he sings with emotional significance, so the only vocal question about his entry into opera was how he would adjust to the unfamiliar demands of singing while moving around the stage over a full orchestra. The answer is, very well.

The real surprise was the extent of his dramatic power. The character of Amfortas has been incurably wounded by the evil magician Klingsor before the opera begins, and in most stagings he lies helplessly on a litter. But Christine Mielitz, the director of this production, was smart enough to see that Mr. Quasthoff could poignantly convey the idea of injury without being inactive.

This Amfortas, his torso swathed in bloody bandages, moved freely around the stage. His activity stripped the figure of his usual passive pathos and brought a whole new passion and virility - and anger - to the part.

Impotence - power crashing against its own limitations - is in any case a major theme of the opera. Ms. Mielitz made it a dramatic crux of her staging, not only for Klingsor, who, again before the opera begins, has castrated himself, but even for Parsifal, intensely frustrated at his own ignorance. ("I don't know!" Thomas Moser spat out when Stephen Milling's Gurnemanz asked him his name.)

Curious about everything around him, this Parsifal was so profoundly moved by Amfortas's outburst in the Grail scene that he reached out to embrace him just as the offstage chorus intoned the word "sympathy" in the prophecy about the pure fool who would be the king's salvation. Every fiber of Mr. Quasthoff's body quivered with a wild hope that quickly gave way to cruel disappointment - how can this guy help me? - as he turned away. And indeed, Parsifal was powerless to help, not knowing how.

The other singers had a hard act to follow. Not that they were bad. Sir Simon's lyric approach brought out some of the most sensitive singing I've heard from Mr. Moser, who turned in an impressive performance, although he still showed strain when trying to pump out big sounds.

Waltraud Meier, the attractive German mezzo-soprano, made a compelling Kundry, her hard-edged voice showing an impressive top, though little on the bottom. Mr. Milling, also making his house debut, displayed a marvelous warm bass voice that lost color in a few patches in the long and difficult role of Gurnemanz. Wolfgang Bankl was a suave, tortured Klingsor.

The Vienna State Opera Orchestra sounded oddly human itself. Little, unimportant flaws gave a handmade quality to the musical fabric spinning out like something fresh and new before our ears.

In Sir Simon's hands, the Good Friday music became less about majesty than about nightmare, its tolling bells a dark cry of anguish as Mr. Quasthoff's Amfortas, wearing a high crown with jagged points, tottered across the stage, half mad with anguish. Opera as drama to be sure, and in the best sense of the word.

The audience received the work, and Sir Simon, with a storm of applause.

Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company