The Real World (a ramble)

It is so easy these days to fall into the trap of feeling that the real world is online, and that everything that happens of value is documented by social media posts (or advertisements) about it. And then it is easy to take that concept a step further and imagine that something (like a performance) that isn't documented on social media might not have value.

We all know that this isn't true. But there have been times in recent memory when online interaction was one of the only ways for musicians to be social and safe.

During the isolation we had during the pandemic I felt happy, being a human being and being a social creature, to interact with musicians and musical communities on Facebook. There were riches to be found there: extremely generous people like Augustin Hadelich gave weekly talks about violin technique, and extremely creative people posted performances pieced together using remote audio and video files.

It was a time of great creative activity for me as well. I did a lot of productive practicing, and I wrote a great deal of music. I also corresponded with many musicians, some who were old friends, and some who I met during the pandemic through social media platforms.

I felt useful, particularly as a composer.

I wish I could hold onto that feeling of usefulness, but I am constantly amazed at how useless I feel as a composer when I peer into the curent social media world.

It is odd because after all this time working on my skills and learning about great music in a totally personal way (playing it on the piano and playing it with friends), I feel like I am a better composer than I was ten or twenty years ago when there were fewer fish in the pond.

Writing music using computer programs that let you know (approximately) how things will sound makes the process of writing music easier than it used to be, when you had to rely on instruments, voices, knowledge, and imagination. I find Finale, the only program I have ever used succesfully, to be a great tool, but there is so much more to writing music than lining up pitches and rhythms. And once everything is in place and sits on a page so that it makes sense and can be played comfortably and expressively (the real work of composition, in my opinion), the music belongs to whoever is playing it.

That's the fun of it for me. I do my part, and you do your part. I did my best, and you do your best. If we are lucky the result is musical expression. If we are really lucky the result can be heard and felt by people listening who can follow the flow of the music and forget about what might be troubling them for a while. And sometimes there are connections that happen between musicians. This is what I hope for when I am writing something.

People used to write to me about my music, but that happens only rarely now. Maybe it is because people don't write email messages the way they used to. My email inbox is nearly devoid of messages that are personal, which is sad.

But I'm still here, and I'm still practicing, and I'm still writing. I'm also hoping that someone playing or singing something I have written might find some expressive connection through it.

I am grateful that the blogosphere still exists, and I am grateful that a handful of people care about what I have to say and share here. It seems to be the only place online that feels safe and free these days.

I'm off to play Mozart with my friends now.

Kreisler, Kroll, Banjo, Fiddle, and Hadelich

Perhaps this is just an excuse to share this wonderful (and new) performance by Augustin Hadelich of William Kroll's "Banjo and Fiddle," but I did happen to notice the similarity of the first motive of the Kroll to a motive in Fritz Kreisler's "Allegretto in the Style of Boccherini."

Here is Augustin Hadelich's performance of the Kroll:



And here is a recording of Fritz Kreisler playing his Allegretto:



The Kreisler, published in 1910, came first. The Kroll is from 1945. It is one of Kreisler's "in the style of pieces" that were actually original compositions, and it is unlikely that he found this catchy motive in a piece by Boccherini.

SPEAK, MEMORY . . .

Yesterday I started work on a setting of a poem written in the voice of character in Homer's Odyssey, and last night I had a "working" dream that must have been influenced by Fred Hersch's dream that I wrote a post about yesterday.

In my dream I was attempting to do some kind of dance-related expressive movement, and was taken aback when I saw Augustin Hadelich, wearing maroon Dansko clogs, going up on pointe. And then I noticed a group of small children sitting on the floor. They were all listening with great attention to a six-year-old Augustin reciting (from memory) a part of the Odyssey in English.

I was so inspired by this dream that I got to work immediately after breakfast today, and have been at it all day. I might even finish the song tomorrow.

Reviewing Reviews of Augustin Hadelich

Augustin Hadelich is now a musical household name, but I remember when knowing and loving his musicianship was like being in on a special secret. One of the great joys for me during the early years of Augustin Hadelich's career as an adult musician (I was, unfortunately, not aware at the time of the career he had as a child) was telling everyone I knew about him. Writing about Augustin Hadelich's recordings for the American Record Guide was a great pleasure.

HAYDN: Violin Concertos 1, 3, 4
Augustin Hadelich, v; Cologne Chamber Orchestra/Helmut Muller-Bruhl
Naxos 8.570483 60 minutes

It would be very easy to love Augustin Hadelich’s violin playing simply for his crystalline technical facility or his always-interesting singing sound, but I am partial to his long and deep sense of phrase, his sensual relationship to the pitches that really ring on his instrument, and his fresh approach to Haydn. There is something about his playing that excites my “inner violinist” (something that always seems to be at odds from my “outer violinist”) in a way that no other violinist excites it. There is something unique about Hadelich’s playing: perhaps a purity of intent, or a direct line to what is essential in music. It is difficult to describe, but it is easy to recognize.

He is able to let phrases soar in the air, making great and graceful arcs, and then lets them land lightly, yet decisively. Hearing him play Haydn makes me happy; not a giddy kind of happy, but a balanced kind of happy. While the music is playing, I have a feeling that all is right with the world.

This recording is one of his prizes for winning the 2006 International Violin Competition of Indianapolis. Another prize is the use for four years of the ex-Gingold Stradivari violin, the instrument that he plays on this recording. Each component of the trio of Haydn, Hadelich, and Stradivari brings out the best in the others, and Hadelich’s stunningly-beautiful cadenzas reflect (and sometimes even improve upon) the best moments in these concertos.

I am impressed that he chose these three Haydn Concertos for his Naxos recording. Even though they are extremely difficult to play, they do not appear to the non-violinist to be virtuosic pieces. Aside from the First Concerto in C, these works are not very popular pieces in the solo violin literature. Violinists and people who play with violinists know that they all require a tremendous amount of musicianship and technical strength to play well, and they also demand an excellent accompanying orchestra, which Hadelich has in Helmut Muller-Bruhl and the Cologne Chamber Orchestra.

I know that after hearing this recording you will agree with me that the future of great violin playing is safe and very bright in Augustin Hadelich’s 24-year-old hands.

September/October 2008

* * *

TELEMANN: Twelve Fantasies for Solo Violin
Augustin Hadelich
Naxos 8.570563 65 minutes

I admit that I was was rather surprised at first to see these Telemann Fantasies as Augustin Hadelich's choice for his second Naxos recording, one of the prizes given to him for winning the 2006 International Violin Competition of Indianapolis. I had heard of these pieces, but, like a lot of people (and even a lot of violinists) had never heard all twelve of them played end to end. Because these Fantasies are mainly considered student works (by those who consider them at all), they are performed more often (if they are performed at all) by students than by professional violinists. If they are performed by professional violinists, the violinists are often early music specialists who play them on baroque period instruments.

Hadelich's Telemann is brilliant, intelligent, historically informed, and definitely modern. He offers these pieces as works of serious musical substance, shattering the long-held prejudice that Telemann must have been a a second-rate composer because he wrote so much music that is playable by people with an amateur's level of technique.

Telemann, who wrote these Fantasies in 1735, reached southward towards Italy for some of his influences. There are movements in these pieces that sound a lot like Corelli, particularly the Gigue of the Fourth Fantasie, which gives the solo violin its own accompanying bass line. Many movements of these pieces are written in a German rhetorical style, some use what sounds like a lot of counterpoint, and some exploit the violin's virtuosic qualities. No two are alike, though parts of some sound a bit like Telemann's Twelve Fantasies for solo flute that were written a couple of years earlier.

These pieces have obviously not enjoyed the place in the solo violin literature held by Bach, but they do offer a really attractive alternative to Bach. I ordered the sheet music immediately after my first hearing of this recording. I hope it arrives soon.

Perhaps Hadelich's background as a German-speaking person growing up in Italy adds to his deep understanding of the German-Italian nature of these pieces. Whatever the reason, this recording is a pleasure to listen to this wonderful music and stunningly-beautiful violin playing again and again.

July/August 2009

* * *

Echoes of Paris
DEBUSSY: Violin Sonata; POULENC: Violin Sonata; STRAVINSKY: Suite after Themes, Fragments and Pieces by Giambattista Pergolesi; PROKOFIEV: Violin Sonata 2
Augustin Hadelich, v; Robert Kulek, p
Avie 2216 70 minutes

There are many excellent young violinists around, but I can only think of a few young violinists who have the creative imagination to make well-worn pieces of the standard violin literature sound as fresh and as sturdy as Augustin Hadelich. He brings a great deal of intelligence, an uncompromising dedication to accuracy and beauty of sound, and a hearty dose of emotional idealism to his readings of the 20th century music on this recording.

He and Kulek present the Poulenc as a deeply serious piece (which it is), and seem to draw on images from Poulenc's other serious pieces (the emotional weight of Dialogues of the Carmelites comes to mind). In this reading of the Prokofiev, a piece originally written for flute and piano, Hadelich adds a surprising array of flute-like colors and articulations; something I have never heard any violinist do before. His tempo choices allow the piece to flow lightly forward, particularly in III, and he and Kulek keep II and IV very light and crispy.

These musicians play the Debussy Sonata as one continuous and remarkable 13-minute phrase, and they play Paul Kochanski's 1925 violin and piano transcription of Stravinsky's Pulcinella, the piece known (from Samuel Duskin's more popular 1932 transcription) as "Suite Italienne". The Kochanski version is much more colorful and much more difficult to play than the Dushkin, but the violinistic technical difficulties in this transcription all become expressive devices in Hadelich's hands. The microphones pick up the full range of bold and fragile nuances that come from the 1683 Ex-Gingold Stradivarius that Hadelich used until September of 2010.

May/June 2011

A Treat for Today from Augustin Hadelich, Orion Weiss, and Pablo de Sarasate

Augustin Hadelich and Orion Weiss Concert from the Library of Congress October 21, 2021

I enjoyed listening to this program from yesterday immensely. I hope you will too.

Claude Debussy: Sonata in G minor for violin and piano, L.140

Isaac Albéniz: El Puerto, from Book 1 of Iberia, for solo piano

Francisco Tárrega/Ruggiero Ricci: Recuerdos de la Alhambra for solo violin

Pablo de Sarasate: Spanish Dances, op. 22/1: Romanza Andaluza

Ludwig van Beethoven: Sonata no. 9 in A major for piano and violin, op. 47, “Kreutzer”

This Pandemic August vs. Last Pandemic August

Last August it felt like we were all in this together. "This" meaning, for musicians like me, that none of us, no matter where in the world we lived, were playing concerts. Some of us, used the time to develop more technique, write music for people who were in need of ways of connecting to others, and make amazing videos answering burning questions about the "how" and "why" of violin playing (like Augustin Hadelich).

I was incredibly productive (that link goes to the pieces in my catalog from 2020, minus a bunch of pieces not listed that are still awaiting premieres or publication), and incredibly fortunate, because there were people all over the world posting videos of the solo pieces I wrote, as well as posting videos of pieces I wrote for two or more instruments (some assembled remotely, and some made with real-time partners at home). It did help me feel unusually connected to the musical world outside of my town, my area, and my country.

There was also, in the absence of concerts to play, perhaps, a hightened awareness of how blatant and omnipresence in American society racism is, which propelled a great many musicians into learning about how non-racially-diverse the usual "classical" repertoire is, and how few women have music that makes its way into orchestral concert programs. I got to see stabs at remedying this problem. In July I started learning about performances of my string orchestra transcription of Florence Price's "Adoration," and new performance videos continued through the remainder of the academic year. It was tremendously exciting.

Things are different this August. Vaccinated people are playing concerts again. Most of the musicians I know in the world outside of our area of downstate Illinois are vaccinated, and they are able to engage in performances for a masked and vaccinated audience. The Delta variant of Covid is frightening, but we do know that being vaccinated and wearing masks when sharing indoor air with people who may or may not be vaccinated will keep us safe until it is time for a booster.

While the rest of the musical world is getting on with their lives as usual, and living their musical lives less online (which is certainly a good thing), I am feeling more and more like a remote and forgotten composer. I suppose that is the way of the world. I'm proud of the work I have done, and I'm proud to have made my music so easily accessible, but composers are now kind of a dime a dozen in these musical internets, and I'm starting to understand that composers who are female may have had a brief moment of acceptability during this past year, but musicians (of all stripes) will more than likely default to thinking of composers to take seriously as being men. I'm not the squeakiest of wheels. I do what I can, but it is not in my nature to promote myself like many other living composers.

And now, here in "Covid," Illinois, where only a third of the population of our county is vaccinated, and only half of the people I see in the grocery store wear masks, there are big spikes in cases (don't get me started on our US representative--the 15th district of Illinois for the curious--I don't want to sully this blog with her name or even a link to her). Coles County has the same daily average that we had last August, before we had vaccines available.

I'm sorry to have made such a lousy post, but there isn't that much that can offset the general lousiness of this particular time for me.

Augustin Hadelich's Bach Sonatas and Partitas

I have known these pieces all of my life. I developed the way I wanted to hear them early on. I couldn't help seeking the sound and interpretations I grew up hearing (daily, and played by a great violinist in his early thirties, and then--also daily--a fifth lower on the viola). In the recordings I would later hear as an adult (seeking to replicate the best moments of my childhood experience), Milstein came the closest.

As an adult I always have the violin original (in the Szeryng edition) and the Polo transcription for viola on my stand. I alternate runs of the Sonatas and Partitas with runs of the Bach Cello Suites, and pepper them with runs of the Telemann Fantasies.

Before listening to Augustin Hadelich's 2021 recording I thought I knew these pieces rather well. But listening to this set, which he plays as a cycle: moving from the darkness of the G minor Sonata, through introspection, periods of questioning, periods of pathos, periods of complexity, and through the deep contours of the soul (the over-soul, if you will), with a trumphant arrival in C major (the third sonata, the fifth of the cycle), and a light set of celebratory dances in E major filled with humor, shows me just how perfunctory my understanding of this music has been.

Hadelich makes Bach's phrases feel absolute. He allows them to follow a logical kind of argument, which makes each movement a fully satisfying "chapter" that holds my attention from beginning to end. And then each subsequent "chapter" builds and reflects on the previous "goings on." He does this in a way that is not at all tiring to the listener, because, like a great film director working with great material, Hadelich is doing all the work. Listening allows me the space to observe and enjoy lines of music and counterpoint that I have never noticed before. It is like a walk in the woods with an expert guide who knows everything happening underground, above ground, and in the atmosphere.

My first introduction to Augustin Hadelich was during the preliminary round of the Indianapolis Violin Competition in 2006. He played the first two movements of the Bach A minor Sonata, and I was dazzled by his interpretation. But now, fifteen years later, his way of playing that piece is just as dazzling, but it is different. It is different beyond being more nuanced and sophisticated. He has moved into that musical territory of Bach playing "occupied" by Dinu Lipati.

(He also has a new violin--one of the great Strads--and a baroque bow, which allows for the kind of connection between notes that is so difficult to achieve with a modern bow.)

Now when I put bow to string to play Bach, my musical world of possibilities has been changed. Bach's music has always been music of the present and the future (with a nod to the past, which Bach experienced as his musical present). Hadelich's Bach steps forward and reveals new musical possibilities to me. No other violinist I have encountered, either in person or through recordings, has had his particular generousity of spirit, tremendous intelligence (musical and otherwise), and freedom to reach beyond playing traditions and bring Bach to a place where his music should be: current, modern, and, like nature (when it is allowed to) ever renewing.

Watching violin videos

I seem to have a lot of violinists in my instagram feed, and sometimes I find myself scrolling through the (sometimes daily) videos they put on without sound until I see a bow arm that looks inviting. "Inviting" usually has to do with variations in bow speed, or a beautiful efficient stroke that makes it beautifully from frog to tip (or tip to frog), and connects the up-bow and down-bow strokes with intention.

Sometimes I find a bow arm that moves as though it is in slow motion. Itzhak Perlman's bow arm is a good example. His slow bows seem to move in a way that looks like he is pushing the bow against the air in front of it. Augustin Hadelich does it as well (or even better). It is almost as if these violinists are moving their bows like mimes through the defined space that is the length of the bow.

Then there are the impressive masters of the fast bow like David Oistrach (who also moves the bow at other speeds, of course), and Jack Benny, who, even when he is trying to play badly in order to serve the comedy, can't disguise his beautiful bow arm.

And speaking of comedy, I hope you enjoy this bit by Marcel Marceau from Mel Brooks's "Silent Movie."

Classical music is dead: long live classical music

Discussions on the internet about the death of classical music began in early 2007 with Norman Lebrecht's The Life and Death of Classical Music. I wrote a post addressing his argument here. And later in February of 2007 I wrote another post about embracing the ways classical music is changing.

In 2012 one thing death related concerning classical music seemed clear: the musical blogosphere was dwindling due to the ever-changing nature (and the commercial nature) of the internet, and the dominance of Facebook. Facebook does make it possible for musicians, who, as a species do not have much in the way of financial resources, to share information, written music, streaming and recorded performances, friendship, humor, news, gossip, musical services, and advice. The blogosphere does not. But I'm still here.

Lisa Hirsch, Ken Woods, and Bob Shingleton are still here too. I try to keep my blogroll (to the right) up to date, and really appreciate the chance to read about their thoughts about music and culture. Both Ken and Lisa are active on Twitter, a forum that I do not like to participate in (and, because it isn't vital to anything that I do, don't).

But looking at classical music from the window of my internets, I see a "classical music" that is quite different from the one that people were mourning and eulogizing a dozen years ago.

This classical music, which is being forged by people working from home, has more sub-species than it has boundaries. Suddenly "new music" does not have to be intellectual, complicated, and difficult in order to be meaningful. It doesn't have to be difficult to play in order to grab the attention of people who play it or people who listen. It doesn't have to be written by unapproachable old people who look down on the musicians who play it.

[A quick aside: I'm reminded of the story of Villa Lobos coming to hear an in-home performance of his string quartet played by the Hollywood String Quartet, where the cellist, who unable to physically sustain a pizzicato passage for its full duration without leaving out a couple of notes (to avoid cramping), made him so angry that he spent an hour of the evening sitting at the piano and playing an ostinato passage over and over. He didn't happen to consider that pizzicato on the cello might involve different muscles from the ones you use while playing the piano, but I'm sure he considered the fact that the cellist was a woman. He might have even noticed that she was a GREAT cellist, and he might have unconsciously hated the fact that she was. Just a thought.]

When I was growing up classical music had a handful of standard configurations. I could always count on them. I will list them here:

Full Orchestra
String Orchestra
Orchestra with Instrumental Soloist
Wind Ensemble
String Quartet
String Quintet
Woodwind Quintet
Piano Trio
Piano Quartet
Piano Trio
String Sextet (for Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and Schoenberg)
Triosonata group (four people)
Violin and Piano Duo
Cello and Piano Duo
Brass Quintet
Wind Instrument and Piano
Brass Instrument and Piano
Voice and Piano
Voice and Piano with an instrumental obbligato
Solo Voice with Orchestra
Full Chorus
Women's Chorus
Men's Chorus
Chorus and Piano
Opera

With very occasional exceptions the music was written by men. Mostly dead. And most of them were either European or of European descent (Villa Lobos was one an exception--he was from Brazil).

There were mixed ensembles that used "unconventional" instruments (Villa Lobos, once again--he may have been a bully, but he was an excellent composer). The other big ones were Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, Stravinsky's L'Histoire du Soldat, and Milhaud's La creation du monde, which used saxophone.

I rembember the days when people used to talk about which records they would want to have with them on a desert island. Because it was such a far-fetched idea, people would think seriously about their choices. Well folks, we have all been experiencing the cultural isolation one might find on a desert island, but this island happens to have broadband. And this island happens to have working laptops that are powered by solar energy (a future image that used to seem crazy, but, aside from the desert island part, is now actually plausible). We can, in essence, "curate" the culture that we want to have. In some ways that is creepy and scary, but for musicians it is welcoming, and we can enjoy watching boundaries breaking down from the safety of our homes, with the hope to returning to a concert environment that has been expanded and changed for the better.

The only professional paths we had in music when I was starting in music were to be a member of an orchestra, be a teacher, or be a soloist. Being part of a chamber music group was like being a soloist. In order to get concerts that paid any kind of fee, you had to have a manager, and "getting" management often involved winning a major competition. The field was narrow, and the market for "acts" was geared towards the conventional (see above list). Managers ruled the musical world. If you had good management, you had a chance at a career. 

I'm happy to report that the illusion that the only great musicians (and composers) were the ones you have heard about has been burst. And I like to think that the "death" that some have claimed to have observed in classical music is the death of that illusion.

Great musicians from the past and from the present are EVERYWHERE. And they ones who are living play every instrument and sing far better than most people did half a century ago. Thanks to excellent teaching, better instruments, ergonomic devices that help alleviate injuries, and supportive communities, online and otherwise, great musicianship is everywhere. It's even in tiny towns in Illinois. And twenty-first-century musicians play in combinations that would never have been considered possible during the nineteenth century, or even during much of the twentieth century.

We have had great role models during this pandemic year (and a half), when music making has been done almost exclusively at home. Augustin Hadelich has shown us just how well it can be done, but he has also inspired countless other musicians (not just violinists) to become better musicians by taking their work seriously, and practicing and thinking about music in creative and expressive ways. He has made it "cool" for musicians to be passionate about what they do for its own sake, rather than for the sake of impressing others or seeking recognition for their work.

I first heard him play in 2006. I wrote reviews of his recordings back in my reviewing days. I told everyone I knew about him, but so many who had never heard of him didn't listen (or appear to care). Now they have, and they do care, and their lives are all the richer for it. Also, Augustin took the time made available to him during the pandemically-driven hiatus from playing his usual repertoire (that does habitually include new music) to explore, record, and perform previously marginalized (for no good reason) violin music written by Black composers. This music will remain in his repertoire because it is excellent music.

Now everyone seems to be onboard, and the music that people are publishing for the first time (like Florence Price's previously unpublished work) will surely stay in the repertoire.

Last night I had the wonderful opportunity to watch the Perils of Pierrot program put on by the Erato Ensemble. They performed my Pierrot songs beautifully, but I was most impressed with some music for flute, clarinet, and piano by Valerie Coleman called "Portraits of Langston." The concert is available to watch today and tomorrow here on the Erato Ensemble Facebook Page.

"Parlando," a new classical music podcast hosted by Vivien Schweitzer

I'm so happy to have learned about Parlando, which is a new podcast presented by Classical Voice North America. I listened to the second episode today, which is an interview with Augustin Hadelich. The above link is to the podcast on Spotify, and I listened to it by way of Apple Podcasts, which is what I use on my phone.

Schweitzer and Hadelich talk about the recording projects he has been doing in isolation at home during the past pandemic year, and they even mention the Florence Price "Adoration" project which I am so honored to have played a (silent and midwife-ish) part in.

Thank you, Augustin!

I'm really loooking forward to hearing Augustin Hadelich's recording of the complete Bach Sonatas and Partitas which is coming out on CD next month. He put this video of the Largo from the Third Sonata (the C major) on YouTube today, and in four minutes and eleven seconds all the thoughts that have spent the day buzzing around my brain are now calm and organized. Thank you, Augustin. Thank you Johann Sebastian.

Augustin Hadelich talks about Mozart

Eddie South's "Black Gypsy" played by Augustin Hadelich and the Quartet San Francisco

Augustin Hadelich plays the Joseph Bologne (the Chevalier de Saint-George) Violin Concerto with the Cincinnati Symphony

I was able to watch the performance last night, and am happy to let you know that we can watch the recording of the livestream concert here (it will be available until November 4).

The concert begins at the 17-minute mark (after a countdown) with the Ives Unanswered Question (which is so approprate for this time). The Bologne Concerto begins about five minutes later, and it is followed by the Stravinsky (which was written during the Spanish Flu pandemic).

The playing is great (and the cadenzas, which I imagine were written by Augustin Hadelich, are amazing), the programming is visionary, the commentary is enlighting and inspiring, and the generosity of the orchestra for making this public is extraordinary.

More Confessions of a Former CD Reviewer

During the past decade or so I have written the occasional post about my relationship to recordings. I cut many of my musical teeth on a few dozen, and spent my young adult life exploring more music by way of recordings. I was an avid radio listener, and then became a "classical music director" of a college radio station, where I got to expand my horizons far and wide. Then I started writing CD reviews, and was charged with explaining the virtues and faults I found in them. After thirteen years of writing at least fifty reviews a year, and acquiring more recordings than I could hold in both my office and house, I stopped writing for the magazine. My relationship to the CD as an "object" became a less-than-loving one, and I took a good long break.

I have seriously only purcased half a dozen CDs in the past six years (I stopped writing reviews in 2014). I rarely listen to CDs for pleasure, unless I'm driving in the car (our car is old enough to have a CD player built in) and sharing the experience with Michael.

After a diet of listening mostly to live music for a year or two, I eventually was able to find some enjoyment in listening to recordings I found on YouTube. The pleasure of listening without having to "report" on what you hear is highly underrated.

A few weeks ago Michael ordered a copy of Augustin Hadelich's new "Bohemian Tales" recording. It has a lot of Dvorak: the Violin Concerto with the Bavarian Radio Symphony conducted by Jakub Hruša, Songs My Mother Taught Me, in an arragement by Hadelich and Charles Owen (the pianist on this recording), Fritz Kreisler's arrangement of the Humoresque, and the fourth Romantic Piece from the Opus 75 set. They also play the Janáček Violin Sonata, and Josef Suk's Four Pieces, Opus 17.

Michael and I listened to the Dvorak Concerto in the car, and I was excited to spend some of the trip back and forth to New Jersey that we took Thursday and Friday (bringing Michael's mother to Illinois to live) listening to more of the CD with him, but, alas, the minivan we rented did not have a CD player.

Since Michael bought the CD for me, I feel guilty about keeping the pleasure that it affords all to myself. But I have dipped in. A few times. And I intend to listen to it again and again, because the music-making is so honest and so beautifully thought out. The phrases are always tasteful, but always brought to their musical extreme: how rhythmic a hemiola can be, how agitated a "whisper" can be, how long and sustained a phrase can be, and how thoughtful and personal. And everything is about the music: what it can express, and how it can meet the emotional needs of the person listening.

My friend Danny Morganstern told me long ago that when you listen to a recording, you are listening to a person's best playing. But this CD goes beyond merely someone's best playing. This CD is satisfying on more levels than (just) the music making.

Augustin wrote the notes himself. They are brilliant notes that get right to the functional and emotional core of the music. And the notes are in both German and English. I imagine that he wrote them in both languages. The recording quality is extraordinary. It allows us to hear all the voices of his fantastic violin (the one that Szeryng used to make many of his great recordings), and to experience the Concerto differently from the usual soloist vs. orchestra approach. Here Augustin interacts with all the voices in the orchestra, weaving in and around, dancing with one instrument, and then another. When listening to this recording I feel like I am hearing the music exactly the way Dvorak heard it in his head while writing.

Dvorak certainly knew some great violinists, but I think that if Augustin Hadelich were alive during his lifetime, Augustin would have been his favorite violinist.

As I have said before, I am grateful to live in the same lifetime as Augustin Hadelich.

This morning I thought that it would be handy to use iTunes to sync this CD to my phone. I used to do that sort of thing when I had an ipod (but that was back when I was writing reviews, more than six years ago).

I loaded the CD into iTunes, and was pleased and impressed that all the tracks on the CD were appropriately named and numbered, but I could not figure out how to sync the music to my phone. I followed all the procedures, but no phone icon ever popped up to allows some sort of sync. I tried using every possible connector, but no soap.

I finally loaded the music on the CD into Dropbox, so I now can listen to it anytime and anywhere.

Augustin Hadelich and James Ehnes Talk about Stuff

What a treat for me it was to listen and watch (though the auto-focus comically goes in and out, making things blurry at moments when I really wish I could see things) Augustin Hadelich and James Ehnes talk about making recordings at home, playing double harmonics, how the different sizes of their hands and arms influence the way they hold the violin, and so much more. It is amazing to see how like-minded my two favorite active living violinists are! Make sure to watch all the way to the end, where they both say really important stuff about music.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars

Augustin Hadelich put up this beautiful video of his performance of Jascha Heifetz's transcription of Manuel Ponce's Estrellita yesterday:



In the commentary on his Facebook page he mentioned the huge number of double sharps (34) that are in the piano part of this transcription. My immediate thought was that it could have been a visual pun on the part of Heifetz.

The song in its original key of F major works perfectly well on the violin.



When you look at the transcription, the double sharps (circled in red) appear like little stars, the literal meaning of "Estrellita."



I like to think that Heifetz was waiting for someone to notice. And there's something fitting about Augustin Hadelich being the person to publically raise the question of why Heifetz would choose a key with all those double sharps for his inventive and chromatic setting.

My next question: Who is the T.O.F. that Heifetz dedicated the transcription to?

New audiences (post Covid) for classical music

I just bought a ticket to hear Augustin Hadelich play a recital tomorrow night at Tanglewood. It cost $12.00, and since I'm going to watch it with Michael, that's $6.00 per person.

I haven't been to a concert at Tanglewood in nearly twenty years. It has been so long, in fact, that the hall that this concert is being broadcast from wasn't even built. After my father retired from the Boston Symphony, and no longer spent his summers at Tanglewood, our trips to Tanglewood ended.

This season nobody except the performers, the concert arrangers, and the people doing the filming will be at this concert. The audience of people from all over the world will be, like me and Michael, sitting in our homes. We can read the concert program by way of a PDF. We can also watch it again during the coming week.

People can make their own picnics and pre-concert dinners. Michael and I will be having leftover Thai food.

Musicians and concert organizations worry about whether the audiences for our concerts will return after the pandemic is over. With the likelihood of a serious economic collapse in our future (at least in America), we wonder if people will have money and time to actually go to concerts. We wonder, with lower-capacity seating in concert halls, if we will be able to bring in enough revenue from ticket sales to pay decent salaries for people who are performing, and pay decent salaries for the people in the concert-giving organizations to do the technical work, to run the organization, and to do the necessary publicity.

If there is an online concert option bundled into subscriptions, even for smaller and regional orchestras and chamber ensembles, musicians everywhere might be able to reach wider audiences--making it possible for people who don't live in a city where a particular performance is taking place to hear and see it live. If it is a premiere, all the better. And if this online option is successful, orchestras and chamber music ensembles might be able to do programming that is innovative, with music by lesser-known composers that should be programmed, rehearsed, and performed.

If there is enough revenue from online ticket sales and subscriptions, in-person ticket prices could be lowered enough to give people who normally can't afford to go to concerts the chance to go.

Who knows? There might even be a place for reviewers in this new musical world.

Augustin Hadelich accompanies 37 musicians playing Florence Price's "Adoration."

I am usually pretty good expressing myself with words, but there is no possible way I could adequately describe the combination of feelings I have about this video.



Making the arrangement (for my own use, and then to share with friends) was a great pleasure. But hearing it played by fellow admirers of Augustin Hadelich (who is playing piano with each of them) remotely, from so many places (homes) around the world, is almost more than my heart can take. Hearing them all loving this beautiful Florence Price piece is what music is all about.

These are the violinists, violist, and guitarist who are playing in this video: Geneva Lewis, Patricia Cole, Akemi Takayama, Arun Asthagiri, Giuseppe Mengoli, Wei-Chung Chen, Karen Silva, Sharon Kwee, Nadia Ettinger, Joyce Kwak, Ana Sofia Rodrigues, Cheryl Gaudiano, Trent Ransom, Celina Bethoux, You-Jung Han, Malhar Kute, Mai Matsumoto, Savion Washington, Alberta Douglas, Jana Kaiser-Döge, Rachel Ginebra (guitar), Bruce Goldstein, Emily Corbett, Emily Kalish, Ion Scripcaru, Gonzalo Beltran, Amy Wang-Hiller, Phoebe Liu, Antoniu-Theodor Andreescu, Emilia Wagner, Natalie Wong, Sofia Nikas (viola), Raquel Pascual Peña, Selah Kwak, Mark Miller, Juan Luis Sosa and Bassam Nashawati.