Nina Stemme sings while Yannick Nézet-Séguin conducts The Philadelphia Orchestra in a production of Tristan und Isolde at Marian Anderson Hall on June 1, 2025. Photo: Jessica Griffin/The Philadelphia Orchestra.
It’s really too good not to share: you can now hear (until September 13) the recent concert performance of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde from The Philadelphia Orchestra under the baton of Yannick Nézet-Séguin, featuring Nina Stemme’s final performance as Wagner’s doomed heroine, recorded live on June 1 of this year. WRTI notes that Wagner’s opera has had a long history with the Philadelphia Orchestra, having presented the first full performance of Tristan und Isolde in the United States 90 years ago. Melinda Whiting has more at the WRTI web site, where you can access the recording.
Now that summer is past, I’m hoping to post here more regularly: specifically about Philadelphia, my home town. I miss it, and hope to get there more. You can read more about my long personal relationship with Philadelphia in these blog posts. Feel free to let me know what you think.
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.
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.
When I was in Philadelphia late last year, preparing a move back to my hometown in the not-too-distant future, I was settling up my bill at the club, and just as I said my goodbye to Shannon, the bartender, she nodded at me and said, “Go Birds” — with a somewhat cynical, flat affect, a tone that’s not uncommon to Philadelphians. I hadn’t heard the phrase before (I hadn’t been in the city for quite some time), and sensing my confusion, she said, “It’s something we say to each other here, George. Go Birds. You’ll get used to it.”
Now that the Eagles have a good shot at the Super Bowl again — after having won in 2018 and lost in 2023 — I’m putting on my Eagles cap. As a native-born Philadelphian, I have an obligation to do so, though I’m more of a baseball than a football fan myself. (The post-season performance of the Phillies last year was a nightmare from which I’m still trying to awake.) More than any enthusiasm for the game, I’m loyal to a city that takes its sports teams very seriously, even if on occasion its sports teams and their corporate owners treat their fans reprehensibly.
The phrase has transcended its original purpose as an expression of fandom and become — well, become a sign of affection, especially for the city itself. In 2023, shortly after the Eagles lost the Super Bowl, Philadelphian Hannah Workman wrote:
Even though the Phillies just lost the World Series and the Eagles just lost the Super Bowl, I still have hope for the remaining Philadelphia teams. Losing those championships after being underdogs and making it to the finals was something that really captured the “essence” of Philadelphia. … Philadelphians and anyone who roots for Philly sports teams have a special connection, and seeing it come to life while away from family at college has been so special. I may miss home, but when I hear the phrase, “Go Birds,” I don’t feel quite as alone.
Even non-Philadelphians appreciate the feeling. “I don’t have any specific issue with Philadelphia as a city, but the general animosity I feel towards Philly sports fans and their … passionate reputation tends to color the city as a whole for me,” Ned Donovan wrote a few days ago on Medium. He continues:
It’s fascinating, then, how language and colloquialisms can evolve beyond their original meaning. “Go Birds” isn’t just a rally cry for a football team — it’s a Philadelphia love language. It’s a way of saying “I see you, I acknowledge you, we’re in this together.” In a city known for its hardened exterior, these two words serve as a handshake of solidarity, a gentle reminder that beneath the tough facade beats a heart of gold.
“I still don’t like Philadelphia. Probably never will,” Donovan concludes. Of course, former Eagles center Jason Kelce’s “No one likes us and we don’t care” is the only reasonable response to such a sentiment:
So yeah, I’ll be watching the Eagles take on the Washington Commanders next Sunday. Go Birds? Goddamn right, Go Birds.
NOTE: Jason Sheehan’s “Looking for Luisa” is now available online here.
The uniformed representative of the United States Postal Service just dropped the July 2024 issue of Philadelphia magazine into my mailbox, and I recommend you hie down to your local newsdealer to pick up a copy. I found it wonderfully readable; so did the American Society of Magazine Editors, which honored Philadelphia with its 2024 National Magazine Award for Lifestyle Journalism, an award that “honors print and digital journalism that celebrates readers’ passions and interests.”
A regional magazine should reflect the character of its region, and the July issue does so again under the editorship of Brian Howard. A report on development at Penn’s Landing describes a corruption wiretap as “amusingly incriminating,” a phrase that in two words encompasses the laconic cynicism of Philly residents towards their government officials, but even better is Philadelphia writer-at-large Jason Sheehan’s article “Looking for Luisa,” which is the funniest thing I’ve read in years. Describing his hunt for a cookbook author who may or may not exist in reality, Sheehan describes one moment of his investigation:
I get one kitchen manager on the phone, and he says this is “the stupidest fucking question” he’s ever been asked, and I’m like, Come on … really? This is Philadelphia, asshole, and if THIS is the stupidest question anyone has ever asked you, then you gotta get out more. I mean, two days ago, one of my neighbors asked me if I thought a cat could survive jumping out of the second-floor window of her townhouse and I said yeah, sure, cats are amazing, and then she said, “But what if it was carrying a whole chicken?,” and that wasn’t even the stupidest question I’d heard THAT DAY.
That breezy combination of absurdity, disbelief, and casual obscenity has always been a part of the style of Philadelphia — both the magazine and the city.
As far as these things are discoverable, Philadelphia is one of the oldest regional magazines in the country, having been established in 1908 by the Trades League of Philadelphia, whatever that was. Since 1946 the magazine has been in the hands of one member of the Lipson family or another and remains locally owned-and-operated. I first started reading Philadelphia in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when D. Herbert Lipson hired Editorial Director Maury Z. Levy, who established the tone of the magazine and came up with some of the magazine’s most popular features, especially the annual “Best of Philly” issue.
This August the magazine is planning a celebration of the 50th anniversary of the “Best of Philly” issues, but those of us with long memories will remember that the feature began as “The Best and Worst of Philly,” a compendium of local, witty snark that rendered these issues collector’s items. Apparently (so I surmise), more practical considerations prevailed and the publisher thought it best not to alienate potential advertisers, so at some point the “Worst” was dropped. It’s still a useful issue, though, and I’m looking forward to this year’s entrant.
Though its 2024 National Magazine Award honored Philadelphia‘s lifestyle journalism, each issue also contains deeply researched stories on the city’s political and cultural life; a recent story on the trials and tribulations of the Kimmel Center was a highlight, and I’m sure somebody over there is working on a University of the Arts story that will dig as deeply as anyone can into its recent closure. Alas, very little of the print magazine has found its way online, but its web site is still essential reading for current and former Philadelphians like myself. So I raise a glass to Philadelphia today; and if you’re nice to me I might send you a scan of that Jason Sheehan article. It’s a riot.
