For the last, say, one hundred years, the musical landscape of the world has become ever more fractured – and this fragmentation has been helped along by artists who resist a single classification, either through personal choice or by a vaulting ambition or genius. Some emerge from the womb with a spectacular gift (Korngold), only to settle for a less elevated life later on. Others begin in a modest, even prosaic way (Bjork), and develop in a long, measured ascent to something like greatness. To still more, the mantle of greatness is worn completely congenitally, as if it was always there and will never be diluted or removed (Bernstein & Golijov).
‘More corn than gold’ was the rather off-key remark made by critic Irving Kolodin on hearing the lush violin concerto by Erich Wolfgang Korngold. As a child prodigy Gustav Mahler declared his genius, and he was highly praised by Strauss and Puccini. But sharing a christian name with Mozart was not quite enough to propel him into immortality and, instead, he diverted to Hollywood and became perhaps the greatest of all composers of film music. His opera Die Tote Stadt contains some of his best music, including this ravishing aria ‘Gluck das mir verblieb’, better known as Marietta’s Song. The monumental sculpture are in the Cimitero monumentale di Staglieno in Genoa.
With just a few months to live, Leonard Bernstein brought a concert performance of his Voltaire-based Candide to the Barbican and I was fortunate enough to be there and, hearing it complete for the first time, realized that it was a masterpiece – from a polymath who had straddled every musical genre imaginable, including the famous Harvard lectures when he was a young man. Almost impossible to stage, the piece had languished as a semi-failure for decades but back then in 1989, with Lenny pulling the strings, it came vividly to life. Here, with Kristin Chenoweth as Cunegonde, and the great Patti LuPone as The Old Lady, we have one of the many standout numbers, Glitter And Be Gay, from the recent Broadway production.
The great Icelandic musician Bjork Guomundsdottir, fortunately, fits into no particular musical category but, for her heterogeneous work over the last thirty years, coupled with her catholic taste (she began in the punk band Spit & Snot) she is admired by composers and performers from every discipline. Here, in the gripping movie by Lars von Trier, Dancer in the Dark, she pens the music, sings and dances, and impersonates the central role of Selma in a totally convincing way.
A Romanian Jew, born in Argentina, the prolific composer Osvaldo Golijov is as comfortable in the world of classical music (St Mark Passion) as he is in the province of the tango, or the wonderfully expressive Klezmer music of his ancestors – and it all seems to arrive quite naturally, as if it has been there all the time. Here, a Yiddish lullaby slides into a silky gypsy lament in The Night of the Flying Horses. The evocative images are by the veteran French photo-journalist Marc Riboud.
I always feel a combination of excitement at discovering something new and embarrassment at my ignorance when I read and listen to your Sunday Afternoon posts Mahlerman. Nice eclectic selection this week – from ex-spit and snot to lenny the great. Golijov is new to me. Works wonderfully well with Riboud’s images.
Die Tote Stadt at Covent Garden was rather Father Ted fun moment as I recall there were a bunch of nuns running round in wimples!
I really like the Golijov! Very atmospheric, and the Korngold too (I have previously only heard his rather cheesy ‘western’ style music) the statues of the Cimitero monumentale di Staglieno look ravishing – I would love to go there
I feel I should have aleady known Golijov: I didn’t but now I do, thank you, very interesting! I like Bernstein, and the controversial (read ‘gay’) director of the Romanian Opera House here staged Candide which I think didn’t go down too well anybody much, especially with an audience brought up almost solely on Verdi and Puccini – I enjoyed it but the text was in Romanian which at the time I couldn’t follow. Bjork still the Queen of Them All.
Toby – excitement & embarassment? Not quite what I aim for, but I try to walk the overgrown path when possible.
Worm – I agree about the bone-orchard, and will be having a longer look at Genova next time I’m down there.
Gadjo – when you consider some of the contributors to the text of Candide – Lillian Hellman, Dorothy Parker, Richard Wilbur, Stephen Sondheim – you would have to admit that the text is but a short second to the music, whether you are sandy bay or made of the right stuff.
Mahlerman, indeedy. Though I guess, percentage-wise, he was doing the right thing, assuming the translation was reasonably good; the alternative would have been surtitles in Romanian, and you can’t get much on a surtitle.
Another beautifully obscure selection. Glorious statues. Talking of gay, Kristen Chenoweth looks ravishing. Love the Yiddish lament.