Alberic Magnard

Today is the birthday of the great, underappreciated French composer Alberic Magnard (1865-1914). A good deal of his music has been recorded--there are no fewer than four complete sets of his four symphonies--and is available through the various online music retailers. It is well worth seeking out. Magnard's music has the reputation for being somewhat "learned," as he took a highly intellectual approach to composition; he was a champion of absolute music in a time when programmatic music was all the rage.

For all that, his music isn’t as bloodless as it may seem; it seems to come out of a deep and sincere font of emotion. An astute critic in the Figaro, writing of Magnard’s Fourth Symphony, said that, despite what the composer may have expressed in his pronouncements, the music was highly dramatic, and in some ways not unlike Bruckner’s Eighth. I’m not sure if I see the comparison, but I think the point is there is more of a human, and humane, element to the music than some may want to credit.

Bon anniversaire, Magnard!

Words of Wisdom

I grokked Lucy Ellmann's review of Chuck Palahniuk's new novel:

"What the hell is going on? The country that produced Melville, Twain and James now venerates King, Crichton, Grisham, Sebold and Palahniuk. Their subjects? Porn, crime, pop culture and an endless parade of out-of-body experiences. Their methods? Cliché, caricature and proto-Christian morality. Props? Corn chips, corpses, crucifixes. The agenda? Deceit: a dishonest throwing of the reader to the wolves. And the result? Readymade Hollywood scripts."

Well said, although, as she knows, Melville and James, at least, were not much "venerated" in their day. Still, the sentiment creates sympathetic vibrations chez moi.

Sad, but True

Maxim Vengerov is hanging up his fiddle, according to the Times of London, to focus on conducting. Actually, the decision isn't irreversible, thank goodness. I can well understand how a master such as Vengerov would want to get out of the rut of playing the same pieces again and again, and recharge his creativity. I'm sure when he returns to the violin, as no doubt he will, he will bring new insights and freshness to his playing.

Jennifer Wilson Scores a Triumph

Those of us who are waiting impatiently for Jennifer Wilson to appear in New York can only feel even more anticipation now that the soprano has received raves for her Senta in the Washington National Opera's Flying Dutchman. She is the consensus pick for next great Wagner soprano.

Why Blogging Has Been Light of Late

The Monday before last I took an amazing job at the Metropolitan Opera Guild, which has been keeping me awfully busy and not leaving me much time for blogging.

It's great to work at the Guild, right across the street from the Met, but I'm afraid that, except for uncontroversial comments, the Met is going to have to be off-limits as a blog subject for me.

As an example of what kind of Met-related post I might write: let me extend best-of-luck wishes to Gary Lehman, who is going to sing Tristan tomorrow night in place of the still-indisposed Ben Heppner. I've never heard him live, but his audio clips are enjoyable, and I hope he does a great job.

Many thanks to my loyal readers for their patience, and I hope to be back on the usual blog pace soon.

Giuseppe Di Stefano, 1921-2008

It's hard to be indifferent at the news of Di Stefano's passing, even if his health suffered an irreversible decline nearly four years ago. In an era in which great tenors abounded, he nevertheless stood out. Some say he pushed his voice too much to take on Verdi and Puccini, but at least we have such recorded treasures as his Cavaradossi, whose "E lucevan le stelle" was the most heartbreaking of all.

Nielsen Rating

I'm old enough to remember the tail-end of the Nielsen revival of the 1960s and 70s, so when Alex Ross recently opined that Nielsen was his choice for "most underrated composer of the twentieth century," I thought ... well, I won't say what I thought, except that I felt there might have been worthier candidates.

Thus you can imagine the jaundiced eye I gave Ross's recent New Yorker piece on Nielsen. But you know how it is with Ross: his brilliantly apt descriptions of the music get into your head, and you start hearing things differently. I just listened to a live performance of Nielsen's Violin Concerto with Leonidas Kavakos and the Frankfurt Radio Orchestra conducted by Nielsenist Paavo Järvi, informed by Ross's portrayal of Nielsen's aesthetic. The abrupt shifts of mood and rhythm, the echoes of folk music, the "blazing individuality"--they were all there, but I must thank Ross for allowing me to actually hear them, whereas before Nielsen's music only sounded like a very good example of the usual neo-Romantic sumptuosity.

The New York Philharmonic's conductor designate, Alan Gilbert, is, according to Ross, a Nielsen booster, so perhaps we New Yorkers have some exciting performances to look forward to.

I Play Assignment Editor

I'm just going to say it: Larissa MacFarquhar is the best profile-writer there is. No intellect is too forbidding, no cranky genius is too crazy, no idea is too recondite for her. Her recent profile of Louis Auchincloss--not online as far as I can tell--brought to life Auchincloss, his world, and his oeuvre, with subtlety and penetration.

So I began thinking ... whom I would like to see MacFarquhar profile next? And then I thought: Jaromir Jagr. OK, so you are thinking my hockey obsession has gotten the best of me. But hear me out. Jagr is the intellectual of hockey players. Who better than MacFarquhar to explain how he ticks, and, at the same time, illuminate the world of hockey?

It's late, and this could be one of those fevered ideas that will seem only embarrassing in the morning. But why not toss it out there into the noosphere and see what happens?

Vanishing Horizon?

The Horizon, Commentary's generally smart culture blog, is, according to a post on the site, on hiatus. I'm not sure whether that means it's taking a break or it's done. Readers are directed to Contentions, Commentary's more political-minded blog. Which is a pity. Political discussion, especially of the ideological variety, is so damned easy; everyone can do it, and everyone does do it, and we're all bored with it. But good culture writing is really hard, and, in the end, far more important than yet another take on some politician that will go stale quicker than a quart of milk. I'm sorry there is one less place for it.

Emendation

Last night I attended Otello at the Met, and I need to emend my earlier post, which was based on listening to the Sirius-cast two weeks ago. It was completely ridiculous of me to say that Botha's voice "coarsened" when he pushed it. Last night, in the house, it was clear that he could bring it with the best of them, his voice ringing out with real ping and resonance when he pushed it--as was clear from his confident, flawless "Esultate"; in the more tender moments he found a beautiful, expressive, effective mezza voce. As has been noted elsewhere, he really attended to Verdi's dynamic markings as best as any tenor can.

What I want to know: how soon can he sing Siegfried?