Strike up the band

Eugene Ormandy.

When I was a wee lad in short trousers, my father regularly took my brother and me to the Sunday afternoon Philadelphia Orchestra matinees at the Academy of Music. At that time, I caught the tail end of Eugene Ormandy’s directorship of the orchestra and the very beginning of Riccardo Muti’s. This was in the 1970s and early 1980s, and these concerts, along with the now defunct WFLN-FM radio station, instilled me with an ongoing love of what philistines like myself call “classical music.” Although I recently made a pilgrimage to the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia to experience the 21st-century Philadelphia Orchestra (under Riccardo Muti again — I guess old habits die hard), it’s the Ormandy era I feel the most affection for, and any recording performed by the PhilOrch under Ormandy that comes up on my streaming channels still catches my attention — off I am down memory lane. What I most admired about Ormandy, and still do, was his supreme devotion to the music rather than any podium antics, and he was surprisingly attuned to the work of contemporary composers as well. The Ormandy strings, of course, were the main contributor to the orchestra’s reputation for the performance of works of the Romantic era as well as the Russians, but any exposure to its performances of works like the Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony, especially with E. Power Biggs at the keyboard, reveals just what a powerhouse the orchestra as a whole was at its height. A crowdpleaser, sure, even a barnburner, but it was one of my father’s favorite recordings, and it pleases me too:

My friend Bruce Hodges, who kindly invited me to that Kimmel Center performance of the Verdi Requiem a few months ago, has just reviewed the new 94-CD box set from Sony, Eugene Ormandy: The Columbia Stereo Collection 1964-1983, for WRTI in Philadelphia — of which I am a proud supporter, and you should be too — and I recommend his review as a sensitive and long-overdue appreciation of Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra with which I fully concur. In my readings of classical music criticism, I often find that Ormandy is described as an excellent conductor, no doubt, but especially that he was “dependable” — not a firebrand like Bernstein — and the Philadelphia Orchestra, however excellent an ensemble, similarly “dependable” as well, especially those strings.

Saith Mr. Hodges:

[The] sumptuous, staggering new box of recordings … makes a compelling case for an outsized proclamation found elsewhere, declaring the Philadelphians as “America’s Finest Orchestra.” While the debate over that phrase could cause months of conversation over coffee or a nice bourbon, this latest compendium confirms that, during those 19 years, he and the musicians produced many of the classical music world’s most cherished documents. …

The remainder of the set contains myriad treasures, which demonstrate the Orchestra’s sleekness, versatility and fire. And while competition for some of the standard repertoire is fierce — I’m looking at you, nine Beethoven symphonies, as well as his well-traveled instrumental concertos and those by Mozart and Tchaikovsky — other discs show an exploratory instinct at a time when composers like Kodály, Nielsen, Ives, and others weren’t as well known in the United States. In the current age, when Mahler recordings are everywhere, people may forget that Ormandy steered the initial release of Mahler’s Tenth Symphony, in its completion by Deryck Cooke. Since that time, other ensembles and scholars have weighed in, but Ormandy was there first. …

But as this overwhelming collection shows, in conjunction with previous compilations, Ormandy’s era was complex — and “dependable” turns out to have its pluses. During these decades, he and his hardworking crew often released multiple recordings in a given year. Anytime that artists adopt a workaday pattern, some results will land on ears as routine or middle-of-the-road. That’s the byproduct of a conductor who placed a priority on showing up. Ormandy knew he had a team of tireless, world-class musicians — an American powerhouse — and was eager to share them with the world. With this kaleidoscopic showcase, it is clear that he succeeded.

For me, the Philadelphia Orchestra under Ormandy’s baton (as well as that of others) is one of the great American orchestras of all time, as the Vienna Philharmonic, when under Georg Solti’s baton (as well that of others), is one of the great European orchestras of all time. Both were born in Hungary; there must have been something in that Budapest water. Mr. Hodges checks off a lot of other boxes and digs deeper into Ormandy’s repertory of the period than few people could ever hope to. His review is here.

There are two very good books about the orchestra as well. Herbert Kupferberg’s Those Fabulous Philadelphians: The Life and Times of a Great Orchestra was published in 1969 by Charles Scribner’s Sons, and as readable as that is, it’s been superceded by The Philadelphia Orchestra: A Century of Music from Temple University Press in 1999, which boasts many excellent photographs.

Wallets out

It is a rare day that I can solicit donations to organizations in both Vienna and Philadelphia, and this is the day.

The staff of radio klassik Stephansdom.

Tomorrow, March 13, radio klassik Stephansdom will be holding its second fundraising drive of the year — and this month the theme is spring, the season. The Vienna-based station is going all out tomorrow with special offers and programming (Beethoven’s Pastoral symphony and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring will be shoehorned in there, I’m sure), along with a chance for you to call in to your favorite hosts, not to mention a report from Christoph Wellner and the ongoing success of the campaign. I’ve written about radio klassik Stephansdom before, so I hope you’ll step up and donate here. (Though if you don’t subscribe to international calling or don’t know German, you may want to forego the call-in.)

The Pen & Pencil Club of Philadelphia.

Closer to home, the Pen & Pencil Club of Philadelphia, one of the nation’s oldest private press associations, has launched a GoFundMe page to cover a few pressing bills. In addition to this, the Club is seeking new members, and don’t let the fact that you don’t live in Philadelphia deter you — you’ll always be welcome when you drop by the city for a few days and want to enjoy a comfortable, gregarious drink with the gentlepeople of the press. You can donate here and learn more about the club here. I’ve written briefly about the Club before too.

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen

Gustav Mahler.

In a passage that I quoted yesterday from his book Germania, Simon Winder mentions Gustav Mahler’s song “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (1901-1902), based on the poem by Friedrich Rückert. He called it “the greatest” of 19th century German songs, “a work of such richness that it can only be listened to under highly controlled circumstances.” He is off by a year or two, but let’s be open-minded. It won’t hurt.

It would be chary of me not to post it here today, so control (highly) your circumstances and enjoy this 1989 performance of the song by Jessye Norman, accompanied by Zubin Mehta and the New York Philharmonic. The original poem and a translation follows the video.

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen
Friedrich Rückert

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,
Mit der ich sonst viele Zeit verdorben,
Sie hat so lange nichts von mir vernommen,
Sie mag wohl glauben, ich sei gestorben!
Es ist mir auch gar nichts daran gelegen,
Ob sie mich für gestorben hält,
Ich kann auch gar nichts sagen dagegen,
Denn wirklich bin ich gestorben der Welt.
Ich bin gestorben dem Weltgetümmel,
Und ruh’ in einem stillen Gebiet!
Ich leb’ allein in meinem Himmel,
In meinem Lieben, in meinem Lied!

I am lost to the world
English translation by Richard Stokes

I am lost to the world
With which I used to waste much time;
It has for so long known nothing of me,
It may well believe that I am dead.
Nor am I at all concerned
If it should think that I am dead.
Nor can I deny it,
For truly I am dead to the world.
I am dead to the world’s tumult
And rest in a quiet realm!
I live alone in my heaven,
In my love, in my song!

Translation © Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder (Faber, 2005)

Dufourt / Nonken

Hitting the streets tomorrow, Hugues Dufourt: L’Origine du monde, a new album of piano and percussion works by the French composer, is already garnering rave reviews. In the March issue of Gramophone, Arnold Whittall calls the performance of the title work, inspired by Gustave Courbet’s controversial 1866 painting now at the Musée d’Orsay, “an exceptionally assured and spellbinding demonstration of Dufourt’s uncompromising creative ambitions. … While Marilyn Nonken is the tirelessly resourceful pianist throughout, there are also vital contributions from the New York University Contemporary Music Ensemble, conducted by Jonathan Haas.” Andy Hamilton in the British music magazine The Wire called it “a superb release. … In the works assembled here, physicality of performance is inseparable from musical sensuousness.”

Divine Art’s release completes Marilyn’s informal, indeed unintended, trilogy of spectral music for piano, following her 2005 double-CD Tristan Murail: The Complete Piano Music and her 2012 Voix Voilées (this latter also includes her extraordinary performance of Dufourt’s Erlkönig), all of which garnered top-flight reviews. After all, she did write the book on the subject. The CD booklet contains an excellent essay by Will Mason on this music to get you up to speed, and the album will be available tomorrow on CD from Amazon, as well as streaming on a variety of outlets, including Apple Classical. Bon appétit!

Sunday CD: Seelentrost

Among my recent enthusiasms has been the music of Heinrich Schütz, a prolific composer of primarily church music who flourished in German lands in the 17th century, during and just after the Thirty Years’ War. (As his career progressed, he was forced to compose for smaller and smaller ensembles — the result of the war’s decimation of the local population.)

There’s no shortage of recordings of his work, despite his relative marginalization anywhere but in early music circles. But in its February issue Gramophone bestows a laurel or two on Seelentrost (Perfect Noise), the debut album by soprano Isabel Schicketanz. Subtitled “The sound of inner life in Heinrich Schütz’ time,” her program features work not only by Schütz but also by many of his students, including the recovery of some fine work by Sophie Elisabeth (1613-1676).

Schicketanz plumbs the spiritual depths exemplified by these composers’ immersion in the Christian religion and in early Baroque practice with intent and unerring focus and power (as products of a Protestant theology, the language here is a Lutheran German rather than a Catholic Latin — without this, no German Enlightenment as I described the other day); her coda in the final minute of Adam Krueger’s “Der Liebe Macht herrscht Tag und Nacht” sends shivers down my spine.  Her accompanists are themselves subtle and precise, and Dr. Oliver Geisler’s liner notes provide an incisive and informative introduction to this obscure work:

Speaking of programme conception: with the works on this recording, Isabel Schicketanz takes a path that first leads us listeners into darkness, letting us explore the shadow regions of the soul. A second group of works, from Heinrich Schütz’s “Ich harrete des Herren” (“I waited patiently for the Lord”), portrays a person who lives and loves, who has tasted all aspects of life and can pass on these experiences (of life and faith). The third and final part begins with Heinrich Alberts “Dass alle Menschen sterben” (“That all people die”). The certainty of death is expressed, however, with the promise of coming salvation. A certain serenity can be heard, an inner smile and light that is built on deeper insights into life and the soul.

You can listen to the album through many streaming services, including Apple Classical; you can also hear it on YouTube, but for cryin’ out loud, the delicate work of Schicketanz and her colleagues demands better reproduction than your MacBook will provide. The CD is available from Challenge Records or perhaps an e-tailer near you.

For a deeper dive, the New York Times‘ Anthony Rommasini has more on Schütz here.