Midlife Music Musings

The 'Cello Suites

2012-01-28T10:02:00.000-08:00

The very first record I ever bought was Walter Gerwig's recording on the lute (Nonesuch H-71137). It must have been 1968, a couple of years after Gerwig died. That record was a musical revelation to me. Lutes in the 1960's were very rare, so I went for the next thing: the guitar.

I dropped the instrument I was studying, the zither, for the guitar. Let's think about the choice: ländlers, waltzes, and polkas on an obscure
German folk instrument, or Bach on the much more trendy guitar... I didn't look back for many years.

What especially caught my attention was Gerwig's arrangement of the first 'cello suite. I have loved that suite in particular ever since. However, it was many years before I heard it performed on its intended instrument, the baroque 'cello. My motivation to hear it on 'cello was weak: I think baroque lute transcriptions of the 'cello suites bring out the best in that music. This is sure the raise the hackles of 'cello lovers and purists alike, although it is worth pointing out that there is evidence that at least one of the suites was transcribed with Bach's knowledge, if not blessing. I can't imagine Sebastian Bach himself approving of any argument by purists: music was music and the medium was always negotiable, subject to availability.

My first 'cello recording was Jaap ter Linden's. A fine recording with an excellent sound on the harmonia mundi label. Simplicity and directness prevail, but I have found that recording to be intellectually satisfying, but it hasn't engaged me enough to choose it over my recording by Nigel North on baroque lute. (Hopkinson Smith hasn't recorded all of the 'cello suites, but those he has recorded are personal favorites.)

However, a more recent recording by Tanya Tomkins is another story. She plays more broadly and with greater warmth. The San Diego Early Music Society recently hosted a concert by Tomkins that was especially well attended. It is generally difficult to draw large audiences for solo performances, so the question was whether the draw was the 'cello suites themselves, or perhaps was it stimulated by the very recent book, The Cello Suites: J. S. Bach, Pablo Casals, and the Search for a Baroque Masterpiece, by Eric Siblin? I'll write about this book once I have read it.

Something I have noticed is that not everyone appreciates the 'cello suites equally. If you are a 'cellist, I don't doubt that they are the penultimate oeuvre for Bach, if not all of music. If you are a keyboard player, they may be viewed as not not "sophisticated enough." While lacking contrapuntal complexity, they embody the best of Bach's tunefulness and both harmonic and technical resourcefulness.

Those who follow this blog know that I eventually returned to the zither. Indeed, I am studying the first 'cello suite on it. I can't resist concluding with a video of Harald Oberlechner performing the prelude:

Half an Instrument

2012-01-15T17:56:00.000-08:00

Zither by Peter Ziegler

Aging slows us down. Mastering an instrument later in life is an exercise in both patience and frustration. It is easy to set unrealistic expectations, grow discouraged, then move on the other (and less challenging) pastimes. I know, because I am constantly tempted. However, the resonance of any fine acoustic instrument is a Siren call.

Everyone claims their instrument is the most difficult to master. I don't doubt it, but the zither is essentially a combination of two instruments: a metal strung guitar-like instrument and a wrapped nylon string harp-like instrument. Each half has its own tuning and technique. Making them work together can be discouraging at times.

I have two zithers. One is a traditional design, which does an amazing job at creating a good and solid sound within the limitations of traditional design. My second, and more recent, zither casts traditional standards aside: it is built for sound. I switch practicing between the two zithers, but when I move to the newer, larger, and more resonant instrument I find myself wishing I could do more with that gorgeous sound.

The challenge is that the metal strings on the fretboard are the primary source of melody on the zither. The rest of the instrument–which actually accounts for 88% of the strings–is relegated to the role of accompaniment. Recently, it dawned on me that I could enjoy this harp-like side of the zither all by itself, playing melodies with my right hand without any worry of the left. Who's going to stop me: the Practice Police? So, I have started doing exactly that: playing half the instrument. Not only have I luxuriated in the sound of these open strings, it is obviously a good way to learn the idiosyncratic arrangement of strings.

Mahler in Vienna

2011-12-04T09:38:00.000-08:00

Vienna Westbahnhof

Vienna! I've been home over a month and part of me is still there. Is there a more beautiful, civilized, and musical city? I doubt it.

This is not a city to quickly pass through as a superficial sightseer looking for cheap thrills, although one could easily do so and leave satiated. This is a city of history and nuance. I really needed to spend two weeks, not three days, there. The strange thing is that I didn't put myself in the context of Froberger, Mozart, or Beethoven, but rather I found myself obsessed with Gustav Mahler. Okay, I must admit, I brought Jens Malte Fischer's biography of Mahler with me. That was asking for trouble.

Mahler, you might ask... Mahler?! Yes, it's true: Mahler is something of a guilty pleasure, I guess a bit like Glenn Gould. Both have such sublime moments, interrupted by their theatrics. When I was diagnosed with cancer six years ago, the first thing I bought through the iTunes store was Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde to carry me through the tests and hospitalization. A little macabre, but fitting.

Actually, identifying contemporary Vienna with Mahler, rather than the other big names of music, makes sense: today's surviving architecture is much closer to Mahler's time, the end of the 19th century. I got perhaps a slight flavor of Beethoven's time when I traveled through Grinzing and the Vienna Woods to Heiligenstadt, but it was fleeting. Walking down the Ringstrasse one could just imagine the diminutive Mahler charging down the street, self-absorbed in the turbulent politics of the Opera, struggling to create a revolutionary musical symphonic language, and probably tied in knots over the lovely and complex Alma.

Of course, I read La Grange's first volume of Mahler's life many years ago. Biographies of Mahler are a wonderful opportunity to explore an important and complex time of political, social, and artistic transition in Europe. Wikipedia provides a particularly good summary of Mahler's life, minus all of the cultural details.

If I were to time travel, the two places I would visit would be Vienna and Paris right around the dawn of the 20th century. What I wouldn't give to fulfill that image of Mahler charging down the Ringstrasse!

Playing Favorites

2011-11-25T09:05:00.000-08:00

We all play favorites–favorite periods, composers, instruments, and of course performers. So, I will unabashedly declare Benjamin Alard a favorite: he has never let me down and his latest recording, which includes Bach's Italian Concerto and French Overture, only confirms my opinion.

The problem with declaring favorites is that it discredits my impartiality. Fortunately, I have never suggested that I tried to be an impartial reviewer in this blog. Furthermore, impartiality in musical taste is an illusion, at best, and self-deception, at worst.

A good blind test happens when I am playing a recording and my wife asks, "Who is this? He really has something to say!" Indeed, what I find with Alard is that he really has something to say even with over-performed and over-recorded pieces. He has that calm sensibility that makes music sound natural and unforced. Some will prefer the show-off, the conscious virtuoso; Alard may not appeal to them.

This recording consists of two very popular and over-recorded Bach works. Their popularity, like the Partitas, is well-founded: Bach at his best. Both tend to bring out the over-dramatic, often resulting in a somewhat manic Italian Concerto and melodramatic French Overture. Alard plays these as music that he loves and needs no hamming-up. They just make sense.

The instrument is an unspecified German design by Anthony Sidey that provides a warm clarity to the music. A "German design" could mean a number of things, but I suspect this instrument is inspired by Mietke, which would mean it has brass strings, giving it an "italianate" sound. The Alpha recording captures the sound very nicely.

This recording leaves me with a dilemma: I love Alard's recordings of the Clavier Übung I and II. Book III is, of course, the Goldberg Variations. I have imposed something of a moratorium on Goldberg recordings: I already have at least a dozen recordings. I need another one like I need...

Tuner Redux

2011-11-24T10:53:00.000-08:00

Peterson iStroboSoft on iPod Touch

Tuning is an important topic for musicians. The lucky ones worry about setting the pitch of one note and hopefully the instrument takes care of the rest of it. Stringed instruments such as the violin and viola are only slightly more challenging. I am over-simplifying: while the instrument itself may be in tune, the inadequate player may play it out of tune. We all know that flutes and clarinets can be played horribly out of tune! So, maybe they aren't so lucky.

If you are dealing with an instrument with multiple fixed pitches, such as a keyboard instrument, harp, guitar or lute, tuning can become an obsession. One would think that you could have a set of tuning forks, one for each note, and all would be well. It's not that easy, as you will see, because a note isn't a note, but rather a collection of frequencies.

If you are simply a listener, tuning is something you either take for granted or complain about when it's not right. I think it is worth understanding some of the challenges, even for the listener.

Electronic tuners have been a big boon to musicians. We used to carry around tuning forks. While die-hards may still do so, most tuning forks were no more accurate and are more awkward to use than an electronic tuner. I have heard many complain that electronic tuners have been a bad influence on the current generations of musicians, that as a result, musicians are no longer listening as they were forced to in the past. I'm a cynic. I don't think the lazy are any more lazy as a result of electronic tuners: they blissfully played badly tuned instruments regardless of available technology.

However, it is easy to be too trusting about what an electronic tuner will do for you. There is an inherent challenge: any given note is actually a combination of frequencies, referred to as overtones or partials. The mixture of these paritals and their relative intensities have a lot to do with the character of the sound, not to mention its tuning. If you consider only one partial (usually the fundamental) in tuning, you aren't going to really be in tune.

It has been a couple of years since I have written about electronic tuners; Too Many Tuners provides my 2009 perspective. My challenge has been that the only tuner met all of my needs was my Verituner 100, a nearly 4 pound monstrosity that was hard to read, awkward to place because of its size and weight, and because it was such a specialized instrument that I used only occasionally, the battery was continually running down. Also, it was a very expensive device, and so used mostly by piano tuners who made their life tuning.

I tried the Reyburn CyberTuner (RCT) software on a PC laptop in the hopes that it would address my needs. This was software that my former piano tuner lived by, essentially the equivalent of the Verituner, but on a PC. Not only was it incredibly expensive, as all of the professional tuning solutions are, the manufacturer was (and is) so paranoid about piracy that access was controlled by a "dongle" that limited use to one device at a time. I don't doubt that RCT is excellent for the professional piano tuner, but it simply didn't work with clavichords and was awkward at best with harpsichords. That was an expensive experiment. Don't take this as a criticism of Reyburn: they do not advertise it for anything other than piano tuning. As for the paranoia, I'm sure there is good cause, but one can't help but wonder just how dishonest piano tuners are!

My venerable Perterson 490ST has remained in the closet for years. I love this device in concept, as you can actually see what is going on as you tune. Talk about heavy and awkward: this is not a portable tuner! Peterson's "virtual strobe tuner" on my iPod provides a quick and accurate solution, but for only one partial at a time, and you can't select the partial. It is a "strobe" only in that it has a display reminiscent of a true strobe tuner, but only one of the frequency bands will correctly represent one of the partials at a time. On a real strobe tuner each band represents one of the partials and will independently drift clockwise or counter-clockwise relative to the target pitch.

There are plenty of small and inexpensive tuners that measure only one partial at a time. They may be very accurate for a single partial, but there are a couple of problems with this. First of all, the fundamental, or first partial, may not be (in fact is rarely) the loudest, nor may the loudest be even be the second, but perhaps will be the third partial, which is an octave and a fifth above the fundamental. (Indeed, the lower the fundamental, often the the upper partials are stronger.)

The other problem is that few, if any, of the partials will match their theoretical frequency because of inharmonicity. You can see this quite dramatically on a true strobe tuner. So, what happens if the actual third partial sounds flatter than the theoretical because of string properties and you tune to it? The fundamental will be out of tune. Piano tuners get very good at making adjustments and compromises through a highly trained ear and various tricks-of-the-trade.

Verituner for iPhone/iPod

I was overjoyed to see that Veritune had released an app for the iPhone/iPod Touch. Think of the Verituner as a spectrum analyzer that builds a model of the partials for all of the notes, then calculates targets based on other parameters you give it, such as temperament and "stretch." This is complex and sophisticated and definitely overkill if all you want to do is set the notes on a guitar or violin.

Expensive? You bet! However, the current cost is about a third of what the VT100 "Black Box" cost. It works identically and I found it is actually faster on my iPod Touch. It tuned my clavichord without problem. This led me to try it on my zither, a seemingly unlikely candidate. However, it has plenty of strings with the classic challenge of inharmonicity.

While I have tuned many clavichords and harpsichords with the Verituner, my attempts at tuning a piano have been less successful, largely because of the mechanics of setting the pitch. Be warned: putting this app on your iPhone does not make you a piano tuner! With patience and practice you might do a credible job, but trust me, it is a lot of work. If I still had a piano, I'd pay a professional!

Moving from the Fringe

2011-11-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

My musical life has been dominated by fringe instruments: my fault. By "fringe," I mean instruments that aren't in the mainstream, that have a limited repertoire, but are struggling for wider acceptance. My first instrument, the zither, seems like an extreme case. My next instrument – and the one that I studied formally, the guitar – was only slightly better at the time. The guitar has since climbed to credibility through a series of important evolutionary leaps:

The overall level of technical competence of guitarists has significantly improved. Sure, there are plenty of amateurs who play as badly as ever, but one doesn't have to go far to find a really good performer.
The overall level of musicianship has significantly improved. At the risk of really upsetting the devotees of Segovia, I think he pandered to a musically unsophisticated crowd with a an arsenal of charming miniatures played in an excessively romantic (or flat-out schmaltzy) manner. I think it took a Julian Bream and John Williams to demonstrate virtuosity without such gimmickry.
The repertoire expanded beyond clever transcriptions to important music. True, the masses demand many of the "old classics" and there are some transcriptions, such as the music of Albéniz and Granados, that work as well or better on the guitar, but there has been a lot of bonafide new and important new repertoire. (In fairness to Segovia, he deserves a lot credit for promoting new literature for the instrument.)

While I am inspired by the potential for the zither, and especially the sound of more modern instruments, I am dismayed by what I am seeing (and hearing), now that I have reentered that small community: the zither is stuck on the fringe and is in danger of extinction. Harsh words, I know.

Searching on YouTube – an increasingly important resource for instruments and music not easily heard elsewhere – one can't help but be overwhelmed by amateur performances: usually traditional music performed adequately, at best, poorly, at worst. Further searching on the Internet uncovers some self-produced CDs of zither music, again mostly performed at an embarrassingly low level of technique and musicality. By comparison, a number of lesser-known instruments – some of them almost comical in their limitations – have stunning videos that demonstrate levels of virtuosity and musicality that boggle the mind.

There is a small community of zither players who are amongst the best musicians I have met anywhere. They prove that it is an instrument of complexity, power, and subtlety. However, so long as the prevalent media is dominated by amateur performances of little folk songs and arrangements, the future looks grim. My challenge to the virtuosi of the zither is to make those YouTube videos and post them, even if they aren't perfect: they will be much better than most of what's there and maybe establish a little more credibility and move the instrument away from the fringe.

Collecting Instruments

2011-10-29T07:02:00.000-07:00

It is rare for musicians to own just one instrument. No two are alike, each has its own personality, its own attributes. Of course, this isn't very practical with larger instruments, like keyboards. Even there, I have a friend with four harpsichords, each unique.

I think most of us start off thinking the first instrument is everything we want: sufficient in itself. Then we spot another that is somehow different, special in its own way. Desire turns into obsession, and we find ourselves with a new family member.

Of course, professional musicians have good cause. There are, for example, different sizes of instruments and any serious musician needs each. Or, there are different styles; in the case of my harpsichord-owning friend, there are many different styles, or flavors, each with a distinctive sound and touch.

So, I found myself staring at a new zither near Munich just this week. I knew instantly that I had to have it. It was sufficiently different from my more traditional instrument, with a magnificent sound and a nicer touch. It is what is referred to as a "Psalterzither," a modern design first developed by Ernst Volkmann. It is bigger, more clear and resonant than my "Luftresonanz-Concert Zither." In 60-second interval I considered whether I could afford to spend the money and take it home with me; I quickly decided "yes" and "I'll do whatever it takes." There really was no hesitation.

Was this a practical decision? No. Did I need another zither? No. Yet, like others I find myself strangely energized: simply owning a new instrument evokes new possibilities, renewed commitments to practice more, an increased sense of investment. The instrument is a thing of beauty in itself.

I'm not the first to buy an instrument I really don't need (nor is this my first time!), nor am I the last. Man is naturally a collector. Of course, I have to be wary: while I have the two major different styles of the zither in this size (diskant), there are at least three other sizes: bass, alto, and quint. Indeed, I considered an alto zither, but it is just too big for me, and would have been a nightmare to get home. I know of few lutenists with just one lute, no serious recorder player has just one recorder, and even guitarists often have multiple instruments, perhaps each more similar than different.

I point this out to convince myself that I'm not crazy. At least not crazier than others.

Glorious Glazunov

2011-04-23T11:31:00.000-07:00

I've been organizing my CD collection. Again. Physical storage and retrieval of over 1,000 CDs poses challenges and my goal is to everything organized consistently with my digital organization, which ultimately is managed through iTunes. Once you have gone digital, in which case retrieval isn't a problem, it is easier to spread yourself across the collection, to listen to more of it. I've noticed serious imbalances in my selections. Over a third of my collection consists of solo harpsichord recording; half of my collection is exclusively solo early keyboard. 10% of my collection is music of Sebastian Bach, but that's not a problem...

Indeed, I favor solo instrumental recordings, because that is what I relate to or understand the most: it is my "easy listening" genre. I do not accept this as healthy. One thing I have discovered is that the string quartet – at least as performed by a good ensemble – provides the same response as a soloist, but with a gorgeous, rich sound. I can listen to solo instrumental anywhere, on an iPod with headphones, on the small Squeezebox Boom in my office, or on the "big" stereo. However, if I want to really luxuriate in sound with the stereo, there's nothing like surrounding myself with the sound of a well-recorded string quartet.

This has led me to search for more repertoire. I have my Beethoven, my Haydn, a lot of Dvořák, all of Mendelssohn, etc. I keep looking for new composers in this medium, and this inevitably has led me to the Russians. Most recently I have discovered Glazunov, one of those well recognized names who has sat on the periphery of my experience: I knew who he was, but couldn't think of a single piece of his that I was familiar with. I knew that he was musically "conservative," but why would I hold that against him?

I have a recording of Tchaikovsky's quartets performed by the Utrecht String Quartet that always elicits the same reaction when I listen to it: "this is really nice!" This prompted me to order three CDs of Glazunov's quartets. Glazunov's quartets are also really nice – dare I say maybe a little nicer than Tchaikovsky's, on the whole? Does it matter? The MDG label has never let me down on excellence of engineering and these recordings just beg me to move my laptop into the living room so that I can wallow in the sound.

The label "Russian Romanticism" is sometimes intended as a slight: suggesting, pretty music with little substance. Is it a bad thing that one can derive such each easy pleasure from music – any music? In fact, the Utrecht String Quartet has recorded the works of an even lesser known Russian, Alexander Grechaninov, who eventually immigrated to America.

Ripped Off!

2011-04-02T10:10:00.000-07:00

I promise to get off of my recent "audiophile" kick. Son. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, and my bliss has been upset as I have learned more about how music is transferred from audio disks to digital files. Pop your CD into iTunes and rip it ... right? iTunes is pretty good at creating a digital copy from the physical CD, but there is a tradeoff between speed and accuracy. iTunes has an option to improve the Rip accuracy, and that slows things down considerably with marginal – or even negative – improvement.

Ripping is not simply a one-to-one process of transferring bits from CD to disk. I know this is counter-intuitive. Although the CD is a digital medium, reconstructing the bits to feed into the circuitry that converts it into an analog signal is complex and error prone. Incidentally, CD players themselves vary in how well they do this translation. Serious audiophiles will spend over ten thousand dollars on "reference CD players," like the Simaudio Moon Evolution Andromeda Reference CD Player. Yikes!

So, do you think that cheap CD transport in your PC is going to keep up with a $12,000 reference CD player? The surprising answer is, it could: using software that follows the AccuateRip algorithms you should be able do even better. There is only one problem: it takes time and a lot of processor! For example, AccuateRip found a number of errors on one of my favorite CDs: the Borodin Quartets 1 and 2, performed by the Borodin String Quartet. XLD, which implements AccurateRip on the Mac, found a number of errors:

All Tracks
    Statistics
        Read error                           : 0
        Skipped (treated as error)           : 0
        Edge jitter error (maybe fixed)      : 1
        Atom jitter error (maybe fixed)      : 11
        Drift error (maybe fixed)            : 0
        Dropped bytes error (maybe fixed)    : 1
        Duplicated bytes error (maybe fixed) : 1

Now, I'll admit that I've never noticed errors on this CD, but if there is a problem, I want it fixed! In fact, I have a few CDs with obvious problems. Paul Crossley's Complete Piano Music of Poulenc comes to mind: the second and third CDs had so many defects that I couldn't stand to listen any longer. XLD completely cleaned up the second CD and was able to rescue all but the final tracks on the third.

This is the proverbial "good news/bad news." The good news is that most defects can be repaired. The bad news is that it is a time consuming activity. With over 1,000 CDs, re-ripping everything is out of the question. However, I'm re-ripping those few with obvious flaws and favorites with an abundance of rich sound. Perhaps I'll eventually get around to everything.

Sax Appeal

2011-03-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

Some of the best things in life are surprises. Even better, to make a gamble and win. That just happened with me. While browsing through Qualiton's bargain basement, I ran into a recording for $4.99: arrangements of Rossini, Puccini, and Donizetti for saxophone quartet. That combination tickled my fancy and my musical lotto ticket turned out to be a winner!

Admittedly, I'm going through a "quartet phase." The sound of four instruments of similar sonority provides an opportunity for a special kind of depth and clarity. I guess that clarity comes from the same lack of distractions you get with a solo instrument, but with greater range and texture. A good quartet of players has a symbiosis that adds an extra ingredient to the mix.

This 1999 recording on the Ars Musici label, a label that has never disappointed me, has a fabulous, rich sound, one that deserves the "full stereo treatment," i.e. played on the big stereo at volume so that I can savor the sound. All pieces are arranged by Klaus Pfister, and they are both a tribute to the music itself and to the sonority of the saxophone.

The performance is nuanced, sensitive, and full of playful energy when called for. The music is well matched, and all of it is new to me. I didn't know what to expect: count me both surprised and delighted.

The Missing Lute

2011-03-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

Giuseppe Antonio Brescianello (c. 1690 - 1758), Sebastian Bach's junior by only five years, is one of those obscure composers perhaps saved by the mystery of the instrument he composed for: the Gallichone. There is ambiguity over the precise definition of this type of lute; it appears to be a bass lute also known as the mandora and was most often used for basso continuo in Germany, Austria, and Bohemia. One doesn't run into it, except in reference to one composer: Brescianello.

Brescianello wrote 18 sonatas for the gallichone around 1740, likely for some nobleman dilettante of the instrument, thereby securing a minor position for his name in obscure musical history. I suspect one doesn't hear these pieces performed on the lute for two reasons: the gallichone's tuning is much closer to the guitar (essentially down one note) and there is generally more interesting music of the period for the baroque lute. Why go to the trouble of either re-tuning your lute or transcribing, when you can do better?

These pieces do show up in the modern guitar repertoire, and (yes!) on the concert zither. If I make it sound like it is inferior music, then I don't do it adequate justice. It is pleasant, tuneful, although maybe just a little formulaic. One could accuse S. L. Weiss, J. C. Graupner, and others who were actually more successful than Sebastian Bach in his day, of the same sins.

It is a pleasure to have this music performed by Terrel Stone on a genuine gallichone, which sounds just like a lute. Stone has a fine technique, approaches the music lyrically and with energy. The sound is deep and maybe just a bit muddy: it would have been nice to have it miked not quite so closely nor in such a live space, but it is an attractive sound, nonetheless.

I got this recording when I checked out Qualiton's web site. Qualiton is a major distributor in North America and you can get recordings from them directly at a modest savings, with an additional discount for volume. It is worthwhile to look for specials; in this case the recording was only $9.75, well worth the price. (Qualiton is especially good for acquiring recordings on the BIS label, one of my favorites, along with a variety of more obscure European labels.) The recording I got is only the first half of the 18 sonatas; I'm uncommitted as to whether I want to go to the trouble to locate the second half. It is pleasant music, but I found one sonata (all in major keys) much like the others.

Digital Dilemmas, Part III: Daffy DACs

2011-03-19T18:02:00.000-07:00

Logitech Transporter SE

I had something of a panic attack recently. Logitech, one of those big consumer electronic companies that makes everything from computer mice to universal remotes, bought Slimdevices, originator of the Squeezebox and my higher-end Transporter. (Congratulations to the founders of that great little company for what I am sure was their financial windfall. However, I hate to see innovative American companies absorbed into giant companies that serve to "lower the bar" in the race to maximize volume and revenue.)

Then my worst fears came true: Logitech quietly eliminated the Transporter. I have used my CD player fewer than a dozen times since I got my Transporter. Locating a CD out of my collection is a real pain, but I had visions of my Transporter going on the fritz, and then I'd be stuck: I had been abandoned! This resulted in a flurry of research on alternatives, which I'll share in a bit, but let me jump ahead: Logitech recently released the Transporter SE, functionally the same device and for a lower cost. I'm glad they haven't abandoned the high-end (or, really the higher-end). This was pretty clever marketing: by removing the original product for a period of time, they created something of a vacuum and pent-up demand and didn't have to worry about upsetting new purchases of the original product who suddenly saw a big price drop for essentially the same item.

So, I wasn't abandoned, after all. There was period in which I was frantic to find alternatives, assuming I was. And that opened Pandora's box. It introduced me to what really seems like the new thing in audio: the DAC, or more correctly, the standalone DAC.

There's nothing new about DACs (digital-to-analog converters): they are the heart of every CD player. It is the DAC that converts the digital one-and-zero bits to an analog signal that goes to the amplifier. A CD player is a mechanical transport that reads the bits off the media and a DAC that converts it to a signal. My Transporter is the same idea, reading bits off of the network, feeding them into a DAC.

The quality of the DAC and its supporting circuitry is the big deal. The bits fed into it aren't evenly spaced and so that unit compensates for things like their "jitter" and also is responsible for how accurately they are translated into the voltage level. Now you can make a mediocre CD player better by bypassing its built-in DAC with a better external one. Likewise, built-in DACs on computers are fine for mundane things, but you can turn your computer into a real high fidelity component by plugging a DAC into it and using that to drive your stereo.

One of the original selling points of the Transporter was that you could also use it as an external DAC. When first introduced, it was claimed to be better than all but the "reference CD" players. Since then, both parts and designs have improved. I'm pretty sure I can make my Transporter into an even better one by bypassing its DAC with a better one. I doubt my ears could really appreciate the difference. Regardless of the future of this particular product, I now know I have options. Digital libraries and quality playback are here to stay.

Digital Dilemmas, Part II: Never Throw Away Sound!

2011-03-19T11:49:00.000-07:00

You would think that the format in which you store your music would be the least of your issues. Unfortunately, there a bewildering number of options. You may be using the defaults for your iPod, so it may never matter, or see. However, those defaults favor small devices, so you may be storing your music in a sub-optimal format. Just as bad, you may be buying your music in the same sub-optimal format. Here's a fundamental principal to follow: never throw away sound, because once you have, you can't get it back!

Storing music digitally is full of tradeoffs. The original MP3 format (sometimes referred to as a "codec") was intended to be "good enough," so that you could squeeze a lot of music into a small space and have it sound pretty good. It does so by compressing the information, decreasing the dynamic range, stripping out the nuances, and removing much of the complexity in sound. It is great as an accompaniment while jogging with a headset, but a poor substitute for a CD on a decent stereo system.

There are numerous refinements to this efficient approach that may make the resulting playback less bad, but it still not provide high fidelity. One very disturbing trend I have seen is that of recordings engineered with this loss of sound resolution in mind, resulting in music with an inherently compressed dynamic range. Likewise, if you buy your music over the Internet, you are probably getting it in such a compromised format. I guess if you play everything at one volume, and especially if you keep that volume high and force it down your ear with headphones, you are going to lose your hearing anyway and it will be a moot point. What a vicious cycle!

Polarization seems to be the way of all things, political, religious, technical, ... you name it. The audio world seems to becoming polarized between two extremes of quality. I guess I'm somewhere in the middle: sound quality does matter. Well, maybe I'm on the higher side of the middle...

Sound on CDs is recorded using a standard referred to as "Red Book" (this, incidentally, is what limits CDs to 79.8 minutes of time!) An equivalent, but not identical format on a computer disk is "WAV." Neither are very efficient in terms of storage space. Space can be saved by employing compression, and there are two kinds of audio compression: "lossy," which throws away information as a compromise, and "lossless," which essentially throws away redundant information, so that the original can be reconstructed.

Lossy compression is still favored by many because you can squeeze in a lot more music into a (relatively) small space. The lossy compression Apple favors for the iPod, AAC, has become very popular. Therein lies the problem: much better than the early MP3, you are still ultimately cheating your ears and limiting your options for future sound reproduction.

There are are a couple of choices for lossless compression: FLAC and Apple Lossless (ALAC). FLAC, in particular, seems to have gained support outside of Apple, probably because it is an open, published standard, without any licensing associated with it. The ALAC standard has apparently never been publicly released by Apple, but clever engineers have long since reverse engineered it; it doesn't appear that Apple intends to license it, but nothing stops them from changing it in the future. How does one choose which one to embrace?

FLAC was originally the preferred format for makers of wireless streaming hardware, such as Logitech (formerly Slimdevices) and Sonos. Just one problem: the premier software for creating and managing digital audio libraries is Apple's iTunes, which ignores FLAC. Because they are both lossless, conversions between the two are possible without any loss of sound information.

Consequently, if you use a Mac or PC, it is pretty easy to choose: using ALAC on iTunes gives a powerful and free tool. Should that ever change, one can convert back to FLAC. Whatever you do, don't throw the sound away.

Digital Dilemmas, Part I: Ripping

2011-03-19T09:58:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I have mused about stereo equipment. That's because what I have (mostly) works. The law of diminishing returns definitely applies to audio equipment: things get very expensive very quickly, often with marginal audible returns.

The way we listen to music has been transformed drastically over the last decade, or so. This originally started with the MP3 player, which was never intended as a high fidelity medium, but exploded with the iPod. This technological leap may have improved ease of access to music, but it has often done so at the price of sound quality. (Also at the cost of hearing, as the ubiquitous ear buds can channel a lot of volume directly down the ear canal.)

I switched to digitally encoded and stored music several years ago when several of my friends raved about "squeezeboxes," which allowed you to store your collection on a computer and stream it out to a remote playback device – the squeezebox. My entire collection has since been transferred to a computer disk. This involves "ripping," which seems like it should be fairly straightforward: simply copy the bits on the audio CD to bits on the disk. How hard could that be?

Most of the time it is pretty simple: iTunes simply reads the CD and stores the bits correctly. I always do this using a "lossless" format, which takes up a lot more disk space, but which preserves all of the detail of the original. Part of the dilemma is that I noticed very occasionally there were defects in a track, sometimes sounding very much like a skipping record, sometimes resulting in pops that sounded rather like old record scratches.

It turns out that it is not as simple as "bits-to-bits." I'm going to over-simplify the situation a bit: audio CDs don't store bits the same way as computer data files, so that capturing those bits in proper sequence, especially given underlying inaccuracies in CD drives, can be a problem. Most of the time, it is not a problem; out of my over 1,000 CDs, which is just under 20,000 tracks, I think I have noticed problems on perhaps 20 tracks. That is approximately a 0.1% error rate; if you have 100 CDs, you might have one track with a problem, so you may never notice it. In fact, my older CDs seem more prone to problems, so it is possible you will never run into this.

There are specialty programs (generally freely available) that do a much, much more careful job of ripping, finding and correcting most problems. All it takes is a lot more time. I have been busy re-ripping my problem albums using a program called "XLD" and my problems seem to be going away. Having ripped so many CDs, I'm not about to go back and re-do everything. However, I will be using it for new CDs.

There are many advantages of these digital libraries. It is much easier to find a recording. It is easy to transfer it to a portable device, like an iPod. Perhaps what gives me the most comfort is that I have a backup of these many precious recordings, many of which can no longer be obtained. In fact, I periodically backup that backup! If another wildfire threatens our home again, you can be sure I'll grab my computer disk first.

Mozart as Virtuoso

2011-03-06T09:32:00.000-08:00

When I took up the study of piano at the late age of 40, my teacher – an inspired one and especially excellent accompanist – proclaimed her love for Mozart and her disdain for Mitsuko Uchida, who had become the rage at the time. Uchida didn't follow the well-established (even deeply entrenched) romantic performance traditions. I, on the other hand, declared my disinterest in Mozart's music, damning it with faint praise: "it is nice..."

Of course, I ran out and bought every single Uchida Mozart recording and discovered something new to love. In all fairness, after I shared my new found passion with my teacher with such fervor, she listened more closely to a recording and grudgingly admitted that it "wasn't bad." (As a general observation, I have found most performing musicians too busy with their own music-making to pay a lot of attention to other's. When they do, they listen with the same critical ear they apply to themselves and immediately think in terms of what they would change.)

There are several reasons we liked Uchida's recordings. Of course, there is her profound musicality that I am sure would shine through if she performed on a toy piano. But, perhaps more obviously, she played with a lightness and dryness that suggested something other than the big, modern piano. Dare I suggest that Glenn Gould started that trend, which continues to be popular? In his case, Gould was inspired by his concept of the harpsichord. I think Uchida was inspired by the dream of a lighter, more classical piano that had less sustain and more narrow dynamics. Kind of like a ... fortepiano.

Even today the fortepiano is misunderstood. It is often viewed as a transitional instrument, kind of a missing link in the evolution to today's piano, which is surely what all composers would have liked ... right? I don't doubt that this was reinforced by bad restorations or copies, not to mention insensitive recording engineers. I have heard recordings of bad fortepianos, badly tuned, that suggest the saloon upright in some cheesy Western. While lacking the volume demanded by today's concert halls, the fortepiano is otherwise more perfect: more character, more individuality, and a lightness that that propels the music originally intended for it. A good fortepiano in the right hands is the perfect instrument for Mozart's music.

It is a special pleasure to discover a fortepiano recording of Mozart's music that demonstrates my claims. A couple of years ago I wrote about Marcia Hadjimarkos' wonderful recording on an excellent instrument by Christopher Clark. More! I want more! Fortunately, I just discovered the pianist Kristian Bezuidenhout with two recordings intended to be part of a complete survey on the harmonia mundi label. Volume 1 is on a copy of 1795 Walter by Derek Adlam and Volume 2 on a copy of a 1802 Walter by Paul McNulty. These are subtly different instruments, but both with the characteristic light action. Bezuidenhout seems to exploit that lightness and plays with such virtuosity that I find myself thinking, "that is what Mozart must have sounded like."

Listen to these recordings and you will hear no inferior instrument! Rather, you will hear both color and clarity you simply can't achieve on today's homogeneous piano. Even better, Bezuidenhout's approach to the music is fresh. There is no concession to primitive mechanics: the finger-work is as dazzling as one of today's Russian school prize winners. Although he doesn't over-complicate the music, he knows how to embellish and provided varied repeats. Uchida's recordings now sound so conservative, so straight-laced.

Just as Ronald Brautigam's recordings of Beethoven have moved the fortepiano from curiosity to mainstream, Bezuidenhout is sure to do the same with Mozart.

Chasing Notes

2011-01-22T09:34:00.000-08:00

The term fugue is derived from the Latin word fuga, which is related to fugere – ‘to flee’– and fugare –‘to chase’. If one really appreciates a little architecture (well, maybe a lot...) behind their music, there is nothing like a fugue: the thinking man's song in which the tune chases itself. I think all but the most clueless will sense the the power of the fugue when they listen (for example) to Handel's Messiah. Indeed, fugal imitation continues to be employed in the most unlikely places.

Although we first turn to Bach for fugues – he was undoubtedly the greatest master of this form for all time – we shouldn't overlook other sources.

Which leads me to a recording I had to get as soon as I saw it: Quartetti Fugati, fugal chamber works of the classical period performed by the string quartet Quartuor Rincontro. This is on the zig-zag territoires label ... a double good omen. The recording is dominated by fugues from well knowns like Haydn and Mozart, and lesser known, like Albrechtsberger and Werner. The fugue was by no means dead, rather it was encouraged by the emperor Joseph. Not every track is a fugue; two complete Haydn quartets with fugal movements begin and end the recording. One can't help but notice Mozart's two fugues after Bach's BWV 871 and BWV 876, proclaiming Mozart's own love for Bach and the fuge, and demonstrating how perfect the string quartet medium is for such counterpoint.

This recording has a wonderful sound and tight, passionate performance. This has been a recoding I return to with frequency.

A much more modern master of the fugue was Dimitri Shostakovich. I think Shostakovich has been deprived of his rightful credit of supreme music genius partly because of politics he was captive to, partly because his music sometimes turns to a nervous carnival mood that is coarse and strident. However, his op. 87 proves his real genius. One of my most treasured and overplayed recordings for nearly 20 years has been Keith Jarrett's recording of Shostakovich's op. 87. It was time to try out a different perspective, which led me to the recent recording by Alexander Melnikov.

Melnikov has the immediate advantage of the latest recording technology: a really large, live, and natural sound. Shostakovich really uses the piano like an orchestra. Milnikov has a big, lush Russian sound that is more nuanced and less bombastic than Jarrett's. The two performances are different, which I wanted. I'm not abandoning my Jarrett: he has an intensity that may have resulted from what was a newness of the music to him at the time of the recording. However, if you don't have a recording, get Melnikov's, which includes a fascinating video interview (in multiple languages) by Andreas Staier.

As an aside, one quirk of this album is that it is spread across 3 CDs, with the final CD containing only two tracks for the final prelude and fugue. The engineers could have squeezed everything onto 2 CDs, but it looks like that would have required ending CD 1 with a prelude, then starting CD 2 with the accompanying fugue. This is a nit, but I do tend to listen to the entire cycle start-to-finish, usually on car trips or stargazing in the desert: both environments that especially lend themselves to chasing notes.

Koechlin is Koechlin

2010-12-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

If I had a time machine and could choose only one time and place to visit, it would be Paris just past the turn of the 20th century: simplistically, the time of the "Impressionists." I would have to pick the exact time very, very carefully – an idea to savor. I am tempted to say I would like to be there for the 1913 premier of Le sacre du printemps. I would catch a late Debussy, just after his second book of Preludes, Ravel in his prime, Fauré was running the conservatory, losing his hearing, and Erik Satie was the musical bad boy of the day. Poulenc was 14 – still a kid – and wouldn't begin the serious study of music with Charles Koechlin for another eight years.

Charles Koechlin! Now here is one seriously overlooked composer. If you love the above names, as I do, and don't know Koechlin, you are in for a real treat. I first ran into his music two years ago, when I wrote about his first two string quartets. I listen to these frequently, often wondering why I didn't have more of Koechlin's music. That is almost worth a discussion by itself: it is difficult to choose recordings of poorly known composers performed by unknown musicians. It requires a leap of faith.

I took a leap of faith when I ordered three CDs of his piano music, performed by Michael Korstick. All three fill that void of there not being enough music of that period: nearly every piece is unique and a treasure. There is a desire to pigeonhole Koechlin's music, to say he is "like Debussy" or "like Fauré," or whomever. The truth is, Koechlin shares the best attributes of all these favored composers, but is not beholden to any of them. Koechlin is Koechlin.

A Fistful of Emanuel

2010-12-04T09:03:00.000-08:00

In adding three new recordings of Carl Phillip Emanuel Bach's music, I increased my collection of his music by only 6%. That is to say, my fascination with Sebastian Bach's second eldest may constitute something of a fetish; I'm not sure even his father has a larger segment in my library.

Miklòs Spànyi has been recording Emanuel's solo keyboard music for well over a decade (I think Volume One came out in 1997) and he is only about two-thirds complete. I am grateful for a number of reasons. Not only has it opened a wealth of excellent music, most of which has not been recorded, it was an introduction to the wonderful clavichords of Joris Potvlieghe. It is an important body of recorded work.

As I have written before, the music of Emanuel Bach may be something of an acquired taste. When one is totally immersed in the language, the nuances take on greater meaning, especially when performed well. But, this is true of most music. Perhaps it is my curse that I'm attracted to the fringes of taste. Spànyi has absorbed the language and style. His approach is intelligent, analytic, and commanding. He does not wallow in sentimentality, nor engage in cheap tricks to dazzle (I am still recovering from Pletnev's exercise in over-indulgence!) As such, his approach may not appeal to all. As one grows accustomed to listening to his performances, however, you expect to hear the attention to detail, the nuance of coloration and the subtlety of embellishment.

It seems that the latest three volumes, 19-21, snuck up on me. I've kept a look-out since Volume 18, but it wasn't until I was visiting Berkeley, with the favorite stop The Musical Offering, that I discovered 19 and 20 were out. A check of the BIS catalog at the site of the North American distributor, Qualiton, that 21 was also out. If I had any sense of seasonal propriety, I would have saved these three new recordings for the Christmas tree. Patience is not my virtue...

Vol. 19, Various Pieces from the 1760s, performed on the tangent piano, seemed the least promising. Included are a couple of variations, a form that I find usually wallows in triviality. However, the theme in each was a good starting point and the result to me is very Haydnesque ... very good Haydn, at that. Another interesting selection is a three movement Sinfonia in F, a transcription of a symphony. Spànyi writes that although this music could also work well on the clavichord, the tangent piano provides greater resources for the orchestral sound. (As an aside, no one writes more compelling notes than Spànyi, a sign of the intelligence put into the performance.) The tangent piano also provides a welcome variety to the more often used clavichord.

Volumes 20 and 21 are recorded on the copy of the 1785 Horn that Spànyi has favored. So far, he has used three clavichords in this series. The first three volumes were recorded on a Saxonian instrument of Joris Potvlieghe's own design: an instrument of great sweetness and color. He then used an instrument after Hubert that I found facil, but colorless. He then switched to the Horn, which is a clavichord with a large and rather un-refined sound (to my ears), but with tremendous dynamics. It is interesting to hear how that particular instrument has mellowed and gained depth as it matures. I have been told that the next clavichord recording will be on another Saxonian instrument of Potvlieghe's design, one that is even larger than the other two of his used. I can't wait!

Volume 20 includes five complete sonatas from the period 1760-1766. This is music for the Emanuel Bach aficionado; I suspect none of it has been recorded previously. None of it pops out as brilliantly unique, but if you speak the language, it is "comfort music."

Volume 21 presents the Six Sonatas with Varied Reprises. These are much more familiar, although I don't think I've seen a recording with all six. This is an important collection, as it gives us detailed insight into how Emanuel would have varied his repeats – as he always would. Spànyi is a master of this art himself, indeed, one of the things I like to listen to in his performances. Emanuel Bach's inventiveness is wondrous, and this set brilliant. It seems that Spànyi plays with special brilliance. For those who don't feel compelled to own the entire collection, Volume 21 stands out as one not to miss.

Fringe Zither

2010-10-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

I will blame my current zither obsession on Martin Mallaun. Over a year ago I bumped into his first recording, zwischen steinen, and my eyes were opened to the greater possibilities of the instrument. Indeed, the title piece of that album electrifies me as much today as when I first heard it: deeply romantic in a progressively modern way.

Martin, who I actually met and had a couple of lessons with last week, is deeply passionate about new music for the instrument. Whereas his first recording played it safe with a combination of transcriptions of lute music (beautifully played!) and more conservative modern music, his new recording, Omonéro, boldly pushes the instrument to the fringe: unapologetically progressive, utilizing the full resources of the instrument in new ways, including percussive sounds and re-tuned strings for microtonal sounds.

If you expect your zither to play the Harry Lime Theme or a sweet Alpine Ländler, this is probably not the recording for you. If, on the other hand, you like texture and sound and are open to new ideas, this is a fascinating album. As is often the case with compendiums of avant-garde music, not all pieces are equally attractive, especially on first hearing. The challenge is to not let that which doesn't work for your ears at first hearing poison you for everything. All pieces on this recording are interesting and even instructive on the potentials of the instrument. Some pieces are more tonal, and therefore easily accessible, than others.

It is human nature to try to quickly assess what we like and don't like. This has always been the bane of progressive music: we jump to conclusions on whether we like it, or not. Yet, my experience has been that frequency of hearing has a great deal to do with what we like. Although not light listening, this collection grows on me. And, the sound colors and resonance from Martin's large zither can be intoxicating.

Sadly, access to this recording in North America is difficult, if not impossible. If there are any interested in acquiring it, contact me and I'll see what I can do. If you are open to new sounds and ideas, this could be just the CD for you.

Delectable D'Anglebert

2010-10-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

There is talk these days of "bucket lists": things to do before you die. One thing I think every music lover should add to their list is, "learn enough of 17th century French music so that you can really appreciate D'Anglebert." There is something so satisfying in his music, but I know that it is not immediately accessible to the neophyte. It takes some investment.

I'm not alone in this passion. Consistently over the years search engines have directed people to this blog in their searches for "D'Anglebert": it seems to be a top search item. There is even a D'Anglebert Facebook page, although it hasn't had a lot of activity lately. Perhaps the fans have been too busy enjoying a run of good recordings: Paolo Erdas, Laurent Stewart, and now JungHae Kim.

At first, I was dismayed when JungHae sent me her recent recording. I like her far too much to write anything less than positive things about her, but I also take my D'Anglebert too seriously to give a gratuitous endorsement. I have heard enough D'Anglebert recordings that don't delight, and therefore run the risk of giving the wrong first impression to the initiates. Should I quietly ignore this well-meaning opus, I wondered?

Fortunately, my concerns were for naught. JungHae is one of those sensitive harpsichordists who "gets it" with the genre, and the result is a sumptuous recording with an exquisite sound on a modern instrument (a model after Dumont by John Phillips). The acid test are the Préludes, which demand a intelligent rhapsody; you can't just play the notes, because without guidance, they are just a jumble.

JungHae's ornaments are free and flowing, sounding natural to the music and instrument. A danger for this music is that the ornaments become shrill, mechanical annoyances, rather than complementary embellishments.

The ultimate test and delight of the recording is her treatment of the Tombeau de Monsieur de Chambonnières. I don't know if Chambonnières deserved such an elegy: this is one of the five or six most moving pieces I know of, I think the piece I would want played at my memorial. It is a test of the player's passion and pathos. A good reading of this piece is probably the key to introducing people to the addiction that is D'Anglebert. JungHae's makes me want to weep: precisely the correct response.

Wandering in the Land of Bach

2010-10-04T23:58:00.001-07:00

Although my primary purpose for this journey was to attend the Marienberg Zitherseminar, I couldn't help but notice that I would be close to Leipzig. By including a trip to Eisenach, I would be able to get a feel for the land that Bach lived in. I have read plenty of biographies, but names like Eisenach, Erfurt, Weimar, and Leipzig were just names. I had no concept of scale or scenery.

It is hard to convey how much both scale and scenery differ from the southwestern United States! When I read of Bach walking from city to city, it was impossible to comprehend. The distance from Eisenach to Leipzig is just about the same as from San Diego to Burbank, but Eisenach to Erfurt is certainly in walking distance. It was a much smaller world! Indeed, the states of Saxony and Thüringia might be considered the equivalent of Los Angeles and San Diego counties. Residents of each feel they have their own unique identity, which I'm sure confounds visitors, who simply view it all as "Eastern German" and "Southern California."

My visit was in reverse chronological order, starting with Bach's final resting place, Leipzig, and ending at his birthplace. Dresden represents one of his farther jaunts: where he travelled with the intent to compete with the proverbially chicken-hearted Louis Marchand. (Dresden then was one of the really great and opulent cities of the time – the equivalent of Venice or Paris, I guess. It will remain on the top of my list for destinations not to miss.)

I get the sense that the Saxon and Thüringen countrysides have not changed all that much, at least in character. Of course, they are more densely populated, and full of trains and roads, but there is much more open farmland than I had expected. Very green to someone who lives in a place where no rain is seen for half the year. Hills and forests punctuate and spice the landscape. Everywhere I travelled demanded a photo souvenir. The train ride from Dresden to Chemnitz is memorable for the Saxon canyon it passes through. Marienberg, south of Chemnitz, is striking in its very deep hills and dales. However, first walking in the Thüringen forest around the Wartburg castle was a special treat. I felt like I was walking in both a dream and a painting.

Of course, one cannot miss the Thomaskirche in Leipzig. I would have loved to hear an organ concert there, and I think a return trip is well warranted. The Bach Museum there was something of a disappointment: not a great deal of interest. Indeed, not a deal of anything. However, the Bach Museum attached to the "Bach Haus" is well worth the 8 Euros. There was a fine discussion (in German, but I have grown used to my childlike ignorance) of the keyboard instruments with a demonstration. I thought the 17th century fretted clavichord did a fine job of projecting in the room, and I could better imagine it as a regular household instrument. There is also some interesting forensic work that has been done to reconstruct Bach's face from his skull. The result is consistent with I believe is the most common painting.

Of course, when in Eisenach, one can't avoid the Wartburg Castle, if only because of its connection with Martin Luther, a lasting influence on Bach's life.

Will this change my concept of Bach's music? No: the music is abstract and absolute. However, it is wonderful to have this new perspective on his life.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

A different drummer

2010-10-04T00:11:00.001-07:00

Michal Müller is an authentic free spirit. He happens to play the zither, which he has made into the perfect vehicle for his Muse. It would be hard to run into his music in the U.S., which is a pity. I got lucky: his second CD, Ziegether was mailed to me by a friend. I don't think this was a recording I would have bought on my own: on the surface it is "popular" music, a genre I avoid. That would have been my loss, as it is a favorite, and has been a favorite for everyone I have played it to.

So, it was a special pleasure to meet him, talk with him, and listen to him play and sing. He is a tall, wiry man with a continual look of delight on his face: a smile for everything and everyone. He talks with his entire body. He is not an intellectual in the sense that he thinks and analyzes everything. Rather, he feels, experiences, and responds with his playing and singing. I wish I could be more like that.

I asked him how he approached his distinctive arrangements on the zither. His style is not "traditional," but it is entirely natural to the instrument. I don't think I've heard any of the "oom-pa-pa" accompaniment that is so natural to the zither. He told me that he focuses on the bass line, which he exploits so well, and filling in to give the music an overall rhythmic texture. He hasn't bothered to write down his music and now with a house and family he doesn't have much time for that.

I was interested to learn that he uses the Viennese tuning. Those not familiar with the zither might be astonished that there are different tunings for the zither. It is the same instrument, simply strung a little differently. The Munich tuning (which I have learned) seems to dominate and is well suited for transcriptions because the "free strings" provide a complete chromatic progression and the fretted strings are tuned like a viola (with a double string: C-g-d-a'-a'). The Viennese tuning emphasizes the bass in the free strings and has what I would describe as a "re-entrant" tuning with the fretted strings: C-g-g'-d-a'. The baroque guitar and theorbo also use such re-entrant tunings. The Viennese tuning makes it easier to do thirds in the middle voices and the tuning can be effective in creating richer chords and special effects.

As Michal says, the tuning is not important – he doesn't ask a student what tuning he is using – but the music is. The Viennese tuning happens to work for him. Michal did play some more traditional zither music in the Seminar concert. He clearly mastered that style. But, in making his own music, his zither marches to the beat of a different drummer.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Zither Seminar

2010-10-03T23:10:00.001-07:00

I came to the land of Bach for a zither seminar, led by three musicians I especially wanted to hear and meet. I travelled by way of Dresden, with a side visit to Leipzig to visit Bach's final resting home. I then continued to Marienberg, a small, scenic Saxon town just north of the Czech border.

My original intent was simply to be an observer. I have played the zither long enough to only embarrass myself, and my German is so limited that I didn't want to draw attention to my inadequacies. However, the seminar was structured for players of all levels, a loaner instrument was kindly provided by the Horst Wünsche Zitherbau, and everyone kindly accommodated mien schlecht Deutsch.

Total emersion in the German language has been good for me... embarrassing and humbling, but good. Simply sitting in a room listening to the cadence of the language offers an opportunity I don't otherwise have and I could feel my language neural synapses connecting in a way that can't happen with book learning.

Of course, trying to teach one's self any instrument is fraught with peril. There are serious mistakes or bad habits that become ingrained and will limit success. The timing of this seminar was perfect for me: I am familiar with the notes, but was headed down the wrong path with the production of sound. It is not too late to correct this and one of the joys of being amongst so many zither players was the opportunity to hear how wonderful that sound can be.

Indeed, Harald Oberlechner has mastered the instrument's resources in a special way. Always rich and full, with nuance and range, he has the ability to to make nearly any music sound like it was intended for the zither. He makes it sound better on the zither. I've heard similar claims about other instruments, such as the harp and the guitar. The zither has an advantage over these two by combining the best of both, with a huge range (rivaling that of the piano) plus the added color of both metal and nylon. Plus, a certain genius behind the arrangement and execution.

It seems that Harald is at the epicenter of the progressive zither community. He embraces all music, and he does so with intelligence and sensitivity. He will play a Bach 'cello prelude, follow it with a folk song, and then a jazz inspired piece of his own making. I've been searching for the right word for this eclectic music making and all I can come with is "holistic music."

As I have written before, what especially attracted me to this zither community was their holistic approach... Music without boundaries.

This is not to say I don't appreciate the specialist. Left on my own, I tend to lean in that direction. I have immersed myself in C.P.E. Bach, in Renaissance lute music, in 17th century French lute music, and so on. (Dare I suggest we all consider ourselves as "specialists" in J.S. Bach?) But I fear I am a dilettante, with too many "specialties," although I have remained overly faithful to "classical" music. I'm not entirely sure why, but I think it self-defense against too many options. I may love the sea, but it's vastness scares me.

The highlight of the seminar was a joint recital by each of the masters, demonstrating both their breadth and their special inclinations. Martin Mallaun is drawn to the new, pushing the boundaries of the traditional. It was he who first opened my eyes to the zither as being more than a folk instrument. Michal Müller has developed his own style, with a flavor of blues, jazz, popular, and Czech folk. Harald Oberlechner's specialty is, well, everything .

Harald played some Bach, convincing me that had the zither been around, Bach would have played it. His arrangement of Gaspar Sanz's music retained the essence of the Baroque Guitar, but improved on it with the unique character of the zither; purists might cringe, but the arrangement was true to the intent. He played a little Alpine folk music, giving it as much dignity as the Bach. And, he played a little jazz of his own invention, showing that he can be as light-hearted as anyone.

I did learn something of the zither — it was well worth the trip — but I especially better understood that music is Music. In the land of Bach.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Dance Master

2010-09-26T08:41:00.000-07:00

Is Christophe Rousset channelling Louis Couperin? One would think so from his cover: if Louis didn't look like that, he should have! Rousset has created a two CD compendium of what he calls "the finest." I'll argue that it's all "the finest," but it is a fine selection, indeed. One CD isn't enough and five (as with Blandine Verlet's) are too many for one sitting.

I have whined about Rousset in the past. He had a long dry period to my ears: none of it bad, but lacking in the distinction his early recordings promised. I attribute that to his being over-managed by the recording company. Perhaps it is time for him to re-think and re-record his bland D'Anglebert and Forqueray.

Rousset knows dance: that is clear. He demonstrated that in his recent Froberger. His newer recordings are making me listen to the music closely from a new perspective, that of the dance. The results are sometimes surprising, breaking from a rather romantic standard that such passionate music invokes. I like having that perspective, and I find I like these new recordings more and more.

Louis Couperin may be the most overlooked giant in all of music: his name should be in the forefront, rather than relegated to the obscure backwaters. Pianists have re-discovered Couperin's nephew, François, and of course Rameau. Louis deserves better.

Of course making such passionate and stylized music work in today's unbalanced world is a challenge. The notes speak for themselves, and are pleasing as-is, but can come across blandly in the wrong hands. Not all attempts work to my ears. Maybe his music is too subtle, and therefore too much work for the trouble.

Just as his strength is in the dance, Rousset stumbles in the unmeasured preludes: no formula to fall back there. They end up mostly a jumble of notes. I have the same problem when I approach them – not to compare myself in any way with the likes of Rousset! – they make so much sense to me when the right musician performs them, but that vision evaporates under my own fingers.

The recording is on the 1658 Louis Denis, which is rapidly becoming one of the most recorded historic harpsichords, thanks to the generosity of François Badoud. Each new recording, which is subject to the selected acoustics and recording philosophy, seems to bring out another aspect of this magnificent treasure. I think this recording is the finest, yet. It is distinctly not a Flemish sound. I seem to gravitate to all of the 17th century French instruments: not very practical as general purpose instruments, but they work so well for this repertoire.

Rousset's Louis Couperin is a refreshing change: it is different with a purpose and the bonus is a magnificent sound. I think the aficionado must have this in addition to Blandine Verlet's classic five CD collection (if you can get it!), at the very least. There is room for more. I would love to hear Laurent Stewart re-record under better conditions: he provides the missing link with the unmeasured preludes.

Perfect Partitas

2010-09-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

"Perfect" is a dangerous word to throw around: perfection is in the eye of the beholder and it's use is bound to upset someone. However, I will use it here. I love Bach's Partitas and there are some very fine performances, but I haven't found one on harpsichord that really caught my fancy. I should have expected my reaction: over two years ago French harpsichordist Benjamin Alard performed three of them here and I enjoyed that performance immensely.

Alard's first recordings have elicited a similar response in me. Obviously, his approach to Bach: clear and forthright, full of honest life, but without gimmick, appeals to me. Perhaps this is in reaction to Gould, who has so many sublime moments that he smashes to smithereens with some odd affectation.

To be honest, I have tended to prefer the Partitas on the modern piano. This is expressive music and the added nuance of the piano seems to be an asset. Yet, Alard manages to imbue each Partita with nuance; harpsichord nuance is a tricky thing, relying heavily on a very precise control of time of attack, rather than force of attack. I will continue to like all versions, but when I listen to this recording I find it, well, perfect. Every note, every bit of articulation, seems to logically follow. It all makes so much sense when he plays.

The harpsichord used is an unspecified "German" instrument by Anthony Sidey. I can only assume that means that it is patterned after German instruments, which ones I'd like to know. Regardless, the sound is exceptionally sweet, expressive, and clear. He makes optimal use of the available registers, but in a manner that unobtrusive.

I don't doubt that Bach is a very personal matter for most of us. A recording of the Partitas by Andreas Staier was painful to my ears to the point that I effectively destroyed it: I gave it to an unsuspecting acquaintance. Kenneth Weiss's recording is very intelligent, but so brittle that I have given up trying to like it, in spite of its obvious passion. I think it is easy for the Partitas to lapse into blandness, and so the danger is to over-compensate.

Damn Alard! Now I will have to buy the other installments of the Clavier Übung when the come out, even the Goldberg Variations. I really need another Bach recording like I need a hole in the head, but such perfection is musical heroin. I won't be able to help myself.

Rousset Returns to Froberger

2010-09-18T09:33:00.000-07:00

It has been a long while since I have purchased a solo harpsichord recording – or so it seems. I just didn't see anything that caught my fancy. Then lightning struck and I learned of three recordings that I had to have: two by Christophe Rousset and a third by Benjamin Alard.

I have been buying Rousset's recordings for literally decades. It is a little strange to see him in his latest photos: he has aged (well, matured), as have I. His latest photos better suggest his intensity.

His first Froberger recording, recorded over 13 years ago is one of those recordings that I find I like better when listening to it than as I remember it. That one doesn't stack up to Blandine Verlet's first Froberger recording, or even David Cate's: it is just a little short on passion and sound. (I don't know if anyone will ever be able to match Verlet's sound on the Colmar Ruckers, even though that recording is now old.)

Rousset has matured over the years. He seems to have increased in intensity, rather than passion, and his command of the meter is that of a dance master. Almost all recordings have improved over the last decade and this recording on the 1652 Couchet seems as true to real life as one could ask for: a real Flemish sound (even though it went through a French ravalément in 1701): there is a distinctly metallic sound that may be authentic, but which I find a little harsh. I fear I may prefer my Froberger on a less authentic instrument.

Rousset's program is very appealing. With the exception of Suite XII, the famous Lamento sopra la dolorosa perdita della real Maesta di Ferdinando IV, the suites are off the beaten track. Indeed, Suite II in D minor has always been a favorite of mine, perhaps because it is so idiomatic to the lute or even theorbo. I think Rousset's keen sense of dance gets in the way of Froberger's allemandes and laments, but are a revelation in the gigues and sarabandes. His closing track, the Sarabande of Suite XII is Rousset at his best.

Froberger wanted his manuscripts destroyed, in the belief that no one else could do his music justice. I keep reminding myself that I really don't want to hear a one "definitive" interpretation of any piece, but rather competing concepts that draw out different aspects of the music. This recording brings out the intelligence, intensity, and dance in Froberger. I'm grateful to have any new Froberger recording of this quality. For those who have not discovered Froberger, it is never too late.

Zither in the Land of Bach

2010-09-12T14:11:00.000-07:00

My ongoing zither journey is bringing me to the Land of Bach at the end of this month! Regular readers may remember that I reconnected to this obscure instrument of my youth quite by accident while exploring late 17th century Bohemian lute music. What I uncovered is a community of talented and progressive musicians who happen to use this versatile instrument to embrace music of all kinds. It is a musical eclecticism that I find energizing.

Three names pop to the top of the list of these eclectic progressives: Martin Mallaun, Harald Oberlechner, and Michal Müller. It was one of those extraordinary opportunities that all three are directing a seminar in a tiny town in Saxony just north of the Czech border. How could I not attend?

This trip will bring me to the heart of Land of Bach: Saxony and perhaps Thuringia. I will, of course, make a pilgrimage to Leipzig and I am thinking of also visiting Eisenach, which has the added attraction of the Wartburg, arguably the cradle of the Reformation.

For some I have been pondering the origins of the magnificently cerebral music of the Baroque. Intellectually I understand the progression of Medieval, through Renaissance, and to the Baroque, but I see a much bigger leap from Renaissance to Baroque than I can account for – and this in a region devastated by the 30 Years' War. How does such beauty and complexity arise from such suffering? I don't know that someone who basks in the sunny days of California can really comprehend.

If all goes well, I will provide a travelogue while there, as I did when I visited Bruges a couple of years ago. Meanwhile, I hope to hear some excellent Bach on the Zither.

Catching up

2010-09-11T09:47:00.000-07:00

Blogging is a discipline and I have let this blog languish awhile, but not for lack of new music. My tastes have been eclectic and my new acquisitions have included:

Stephen Hough's English Album. How did I miss English piano virtuoso Stephen Hough for so long? Must have more! He is like a Marc-André Hamelin, but with more soul. My wife finds most English music from the 19th century, on, to be boring. I have a taste for it, myself.
Danses Et Divertissements, performed by the Berlin Philharmonic Wind Quartet. I love the sound of wind ensembles, and this is an interesting collection of mostly French pieces, some of which is a little esoteric.
201 Years Of Grace - Tsalka Plays A Lindholm Clavichord. This was an extraordinarily expensive album to acquire. Excellent sound of some off-the-beaten-track pieces on a monster clavichord, but played by pianist, not an experienced clavichordist.
String Quartets by Brahms and Verdi, performed by the Artemis Quartet. There is an irony in placing both composers on the same program. I can't get enough string quartet music. I don't know if I'm qualified to comment on the nuances of string ensembles, as I have uncritically wallowed in the sound of each and every recording I have. Perhaps I have picked all winners.

Journeys: Music of Robert Baksa. Very pleasant and conservative music for guitar, flute, and viola, in various combinations. An enjoyable album, but I don't know if I need another dose of Baksa: his music is competent and tuneful, but it doesn't make me think very hard.
Dvořák: Piano Quintets, performed by the Goldner String Quartet. No. 1, Op. 5 and No. 2, Op. 81. I'm always looking for new Dvořák and his quintets are a pleasure. I found, to my surprise, that I already had Op. 81 with the Leipziger String Quartet: I kept telling myself, "gosh, this sounds familiar!" Op. 81 is clearly the crown jewel.
Bach: Organ Sonatas BWV 525-530, performed by Christopher Wrench. I already have these Trio Sonatas on a much older recording by Ton Koopman. I find the Trio Sonatas to be especially accessible. I really can't say either recording is the better. In that case, do I really need two? Can one have too much Bach?

And, speaking of Bach, I will be making a one-week pilgrimage to the Land of Bach in a couple of weeks. More about that next.

Kemer on Kenner

2010-05-22T08:40:00.000-07:00

My discovery of the The Fryderyk Chopin Institute's The Real Chopin series has been one of those musical epiphanies I live for. As I wrote about earlier, I have tended to bypass Chopin, unfairly trivializing his works. I'm going to make one of those observations I'll probably regret: it's hard to play Chopin really badly, even harder to play him really well. I feel the same way about the keyboard sonatas of Scarlatti. The best antidote to such cynicism is focus on the great performances.

As I wrote last time, the recordings by Dina Yoffe and Janusz Olejniczak have captured my interest, and indeed have given me a great deal of pleasure. Each has a carefully selected program that provides just the right balance. Both are seasoned veterans who are either Polish (Olejniczak) or nearly so (Yoffee is from Latvia, trained in Moscow) and have the nuance seemingly fixed into their DNA.

The same edition of FanFare that introduced me to these recordings raved over a third performer, a relatively young American by the name of Kevin Kenner who was unknown to me. Why not add to my burgeoning Chopin collection with yet another new name? Furthermore, I saw he also had a recording of Schumann's Davidsbündlertänze. I discovered this Schumann last year and love it so much that I was compelled to get another perspective, in spite of its expense ($25 USD, making it the most expensive single CD I have bought to date.)

Kenner may be American, but he is obviously a Polish national treasure. All three of the Fryderyk Chopin Institute recordings I have are wonderful, but Kenner's has a breath of life, an inspiration that is just magical. I listen to Kenner on the 1848 Pleyel and wonder if Liszt could have sounded any better.

Kenner's Schumann, recorded on a nameless modern piano, is every bit as good as his Chopin. I now have two magnificent recordings of Davidsbündlertänze. I think I like the sound on Kenner's slightly more. Kenner is ever so slightly more brisk than Giacometti – brisk without being less warm. Ultimately, what may make Kenner's CD more attractive is his inclusion of the Phantasy in C major, Op. 17. This is a work that was completely unknown to me and which reveals Schumann the real romantic visionary.

Chopin au Naturel

2010-05-09T14:44:00.000-07:00

I've never quite known what to think (or feel) about Chopin. How can you not love his music, especially if you have studied piano? It sits on the keys so perfectly and is so tuneful. Yet, it is repetitive in a way that either you have to really be in the mood, or listening to it as background music (as, say, in a salon...), or have a performer who has the nuance just right and can simply captivate you.

I love the war horses, and am bored by them at the same time. I have been unable to motivate myself to build a collection beyond one recording of Martha Argerich playing the Preludes. That is, until I read an intriguing review in the latest Fanfare magazine describing a series produced by the Fryderyk Chopin Institute on original instruments, performed by relatively unknown specialists. My kind of stuff.

So, I ordered two of the latest installments, performed by Dina Yoffe and Janusz Olejniczak – neither household names – on an 1848 Pleyel and an 1849 Erard, both in essentially original condition (and both tuned at A430).

Both recordings have three essential elements that make them successful to my ears: seasoned performers who live and breath the repertoire and really get inside it, extremely well thought out programs that keep one's interest, and special instruments and the recording engineering to do them justice.

There are just enough of the war horses to provide a context: the rest of the selected pieces add balance and interest. I already knew I would like the Pleyel and Erards: Paolo Giacometti has used similar instruments for both Rossini and Schumann. However, I think they sound even more natural with the Chopin. Ultimately, it is the artists who make the magic, but the instruments enhance it.

Both recordings are really marvelous. They make me love Chopin. Once again.

D'Anglebert Delight

2010-05-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

I know I am not alone in my D'Angelbert fetish: there is even a Facebook appreciation page. Searches for his name is a consistent source of traffic to my blog; not that I have frequent occasion to blog about him! However, it is a joyous day, because there is a new recording that all lovers of D'Anglebert's music must rush out and get.

The first time I really sat up and paid attention to D'Angelbert's music was when I assisted French harpsichordist Laurent Stewart with a tour of Southern California about seven years ago. Laurent Stewart is a personal favorite of mine: his performance is always honest, direct, passionate, but never mindlessly flashy. He is not a showoff, but a servant of the music. He has performed in San Diego three times in the last decade, most recently in 2008. He may not be the biggest name in the business, I believe because of his understated and self-effacing demeanor, but he an important voice.

Until now he has been hampered by recordings that are short on sound quality and on obscure labels that are difficult, if not impossible, to get. He is now recording for Zig-Zag Territoires, a French label that I have always had very good luck with. Even better, the CDs are being distributed by harmonia mundi, which means you can actually get them.

The sound on this recording is simply exquisite. The harpsichord is by Andreas Kilström, currently a favorite with many French artists. The copy of Ruckers is perfect for the music and Laurent's meantone temperament is optimal. The quality of the sound engineering is also tip top: this is a recording that I like to turn the sound up a bit to fill the room with a real harpsichord sound; I can almost the instrument sitting between the speakers.

Although I said Laurent was never mindlessly flashy, he has a smoldering quality, just below the surface, that gives the music life and intensity. He imbues the music with dance and the unmeasured preludes with intelligence and direction. This is D'Angelbert of the highest order.

I find as I get older I respond more strongly to D'Angelbert's music, well played: this is some of my very favorite music.

Strung out on Haydn

2010-04-10T14:08:00.000-07:00

My CD collection continues to grow. Now that everything is digitized, storage and retrieval isn't a problem. My only limitation is budget and the challenge of finding something that intrigues me. I have an enormous collection of harpsichord and lute recordings; I sometimes grow weary of the same texture, yearning for something else, something new.

Indeed, I especially love the texture of string chamber music. I bask in the expressiveness and precision that can be achieved with a good ensemble. So, it should come as no surprise that I have devoted more energy over the last couple of years to uncover the treasures there. My first acquisition–some years ago–was Beethoven's late quartets, and these remain favorites. Of course, there is nothing of Dvořák's that I don't adore. Debussy and Ravel couldn't (and didn't) write enough for this medium.

In searching for new repertoire it's hard to miss the huge collection of Haydn's. Haydn never quite makes it onto my "A-list" and I think I know why: there is so much of it composed across over 60 of his 77 years. I now realize that his genius shines brighter as he ages. As the Wikipedia article states:

Tracing Haydn's work over the six decades in which it was produced (roughly, 1749 to 1802), one finds a gradual but steady increase in complexity and musical sophistication, which developed as Haydn learned from his own experience and that of his colleagues.

(Sadly, it is difficult who to attribute this to. However, I agree with it.)

So, if one treats Haydn as a single body of work, it is easy to dismiss the genius of the late works due to familiarity with the glibness of his early works. There is no doubt that I'm drawn to the Late Haydn, and if I had realized that sooner and focused on that period, I probably would not have ended up with a mild prejudice against his music.

Enormous collections of Haydn's string quartets exist and are available at very reasonable cost. Although I claim my capacity is nearly infinite, I don't want to fill it with empty music I will listen to only once. When I read a review of the Gewandhaus Quartett's collection of "famous string quartets" I was intrigued: later works+excellent sound=good prospect. These three quartets are from Op. 76, his last complete collection, and are popularly named "Fifths," "Emperor," and "Sunrise." One of these, No. 3 in C, is inescapable if only because its second movement has a set of variations on what is now recognized as the German national anthem. All three quartets are gems and the sound of the recording is rich and brilliant. This is what I was looking for. In fact, I find these three, which are almost exact contemporaries to Beethoven's early quartets, to be far superior. In fact, they are as good as the best of Beethoven's middle quartets, I think.

At the same time I ordered the Gewandhaus Quartett's recording, I added two recordings of Haydn Trios performed by the Florestan Trio. This really is a different texture, but it seems to combine the best of Haydn's solo piano music and quartets. I bought another recording by the Florestan Trio, of Dvořák trios, last year that I have planned to write about because it became an instant favorite, but have yet to get around to.

If these trios had been the first music of Haydn's that I listened to, rather than his "Surprise Symphony," I would have developed a serious appreciation for his genius much sooner. These are inventive, virtuoso pieces that really make use of the medium. The second movement of the Trio #44, H 15/28 really stands out for its intensity and has the most gorgeous piano solo, wonderfully played.

The real test of music is if it draws me back to it frequently. All three Haydn recordings do that. Perhaps I need to explore this vast pool a little more deeply.

Finger Memory

2010-04-03T06:53:00.000-07:00

It has been over 40 years since I studied the zither. That is long enough so that I can't remember the details. The only evidence is my A. Darr Zither Method, which clearly indicates some progress. Would I remember anything?

At first, there was no memory. None. I intellectually understood what to do by studying the methods I had and watching the few YouTube videos, but this felt like an entirely new instrument. What were my prospects of making reasonable progress if I had to start from scratch?

It seems that nearly every instrument claims to be "the most difficult to master." Some that don't – take the recorder, for example – present the opportunity to play something rather quickly, but which are minefields of challenges for mastery. I'm not sure I'm willing to declare the zither the "most difficult," but it is an instrument that poses special challenges against playing something quickly. Patience and perseverance are necessary.

First of all, you have to think of it as two instruments: a horizontal guitar and harp. Each has its challenges. The guitar-like strings (Griffbrett-Saiten) are metal at high tension. They cut into your fingers and until you build some callous, practice is limited. The open strings, which are grouped into three categories of accompaniment (Begletungssaiten), bass (Baßsaiten), and contrabass (Kontra-Saiten) are very imposing at first, made all the worse because the first two categories are tuned in fifths. There are ready reference points, however: red strings marking the F's, A's, and C#'s.

Ultimately, it is the melody section of Griffbrett-Saiten that will pose the real challenge for making beautiful music: this is the singing voice of the instrument and it requires great nuance and artistry to be more than a hack. However, the accompaniment section presents the big initial challenge. The index, middle, and ring fingers pluck these. In fact, one finger will pluck two strings at once to yield a complete triad. I was fortunate to have a zither player in the house for a week to set me right on that path.

As I said, at first there was no memory. Then, bit by bit, the fingers remembered. I am sure I never achieved anything more than the most rudimentary mastery when I was young. I knew nothing of music theory and everything was done by rote. Now, I have a clear concept of how things work and what I want to achieve. My fingers are getting tougher and I suspect that I have at least equaled my original achievement. This is not to say that you would actually want to listen to me at this stage, but my old zither teacher would be pleased, and prospects for the future are promising.

Does this mean that any adult could make progress in a week? I guess that depends, but I think it is very difficult to learn new things – especially those that require muscle control – as we get older. I think my bet that I could count on some finger memory will pay off.

Zither Pain

2010-03-27T07:31:00.000-07:00

I think there are those who wonder if I have fallen off the end of the Earth. I've been quiet, but only because I have so many distractions, not all musical. However, I just received the Gewandhaus' recording of famous Haydn quartets and I will have to write about that soon, because it is an inspiration. Indeed, I have collected a number of very fine recordings over the months. I have been looking for string chamber music, in particular, and this latest knocks my socks off.

However, the exciting music news is that my zither has arrived, along with its builder, Andreas Spohn. Having a zither teacher staying with me is a tremendous opportunity. My 40 year-old memories of playing the zither are dim and my first teacher was not inspired. Andi, on the other hand, is an enthusiastic and insightful teacher. I wonder if it is even possible to teach one's self the zither without some guidance. There are nuances of the hand position that are not obvious. One could easily develop very bad habits that would result in frustration, bad sound, and worst of all, harm to the hands.

Let me stop writing for just a minute and emit one big OUCH! My fingers are killing me! Perhaps this is a good thing, or I would over-practice my new passion. I knew this was coming, and I have experienced similar pain whenever I start practicing guitar, lute, or ukulele with renewed fervor: you have to build and maintain those finger callouses. However, the zither has three sources of discomfort. The left hand has to stop metal strings, and the high a string, which is steel, seems to cut like a knife. The fingers of the right hand have become so sore on the tips, where the accompaniment strings are plucked, that I am currently hiding from my zither. I had hoped my years of playing the lute and ukulele would have prepared me, but the zither strings are much higher tension. Lastly, there is the zither ring worn on the thumb. This is the least of my problems, but to be secure the ring must be tight enough, and that is guaranteed to cause discomfort.

Experience has taught me that these pains will diminish. Then I can get down to really serious practice.

Late Beethoven

2009-10-25T14:06:00.000-07:00

My quest for continual music rejuvenation has pushed me to later periods. I ignored most of the 19th century in my youth. Not entirely, of course: I was aware of the "mainstream" repertoire, but I wasn't familiar with all of the Mozart piano sonatas until my 40s, Haydn until my 50s, and now Beethoven until my late 50s. As a result, I listen with less authority, but perhaps greater wonder.

I'm pretty sure I have not listened to all of Beethoven's sonatas until now; perhaps I am a fool to expose my ignorance. Of course, a handful of them are known to all of us. No. 26, Das Lebewohl (often referred to as Les Adieux), is readily recognized, but No. 27 had escaped me all these years. I have known of No. 29, Das Hammerkalvier, primarily through books and essays. While I vaguely recognized the opening movement, the rest is a revelation. No wonder: it is a large work that speaks a language I have not learned to savor. Yet.

I mention these three sonatas because they comprise Ronald Brautigam's latest volume, all performed on Paul McNulty's fortepiano after a 1819 Graf. I'm a sucker for series, a collector at heart. Having established that I related to Brautigam's approach and liked the sound of the recording, there was no question that I would collect the entire series, as it is released.

Indeed, I like these recordings so much that I can't conceive of something better. That is the voice of ignorance, of course. It's a crowded field: there are so many performances to choose from, just how does one make that decision? I'm tempted to go with András Schiff's latest. I have been very impressed by his lectures, some of which are available over the Internet, and I've always liked his (modern piano) sound. Perhaps he will provide a good contrast. Regardless of performer, there are incredible riches in this repertoire and I'm sure the more recordings I listen to, the better.

Birth of my Zither

2009-10-01T14:21:00.000-07:00

No sooner had I finished my daydreams about my zither-to-be when I got a note and some pictures by the builder, Andreas Spohn. What a delight for this first day of October! There is something magical about witnessing the birth of a musical instrument. I love to get a peek at the insides before they are hidden forever.

My search for builder was one of the first pleasures of this journey. It can be risky making a commission from afar: I am hardly competent to evaluate a zither, since I haven't owned one in 40 years, nor are there an abundance of them here in Southern California to provide a comparison! I had a couple of guiding principles: I would have to rely on builder's information available on the Internet, I wanted some insight into the builder's thought process, and I always prefer builders who play the instrument themselves.

There is a relatively short list of zither builders from Germany and Austria on the Internet. Although I found several strong candidates, Andi's site grabbed my attention almost immediately, both for the reasons I outlined above and because of the aesthetics of the instruments in his pictures. I realize that to a casual observer a zither just looks like a zither, but there are always subtle differences in the lines and details.

I was surprised – and very pleased – that I could get a commissioned instrument so quickly. By "quickly," I mean in less than a year. Indeed, having a zither built to order has not only the advantages of giving me some say in its decoration, but there can be some optimization of stringing, based on hand size. I carefully took pictures of my right hand, with measurements, once I decided on what kind of zither I wanted. This won't be just zither, it will be my zither.

Not only does Andi provide the usual variations in styles of zither (there are concert zithers, harp zithers, Arion zithers, and the more modern psaltry zithers), but also subtle options in spacing and how the treble accompaniment strings are sized. There is no doubt that this is a player's instrument: exactly what I wanted. I hope I don't embarrass the poor zither too much.

The selection of style was another fun decision. My first zither was a very traditional harp zither: it had a ornate decorative post that I'm not convinced provided any needed support or acoustic value, but which gave the instrument a very 19th century look. I was very tempted to go with the more modern Psalterzither, which is a little larger and which seems favored by the more progressive young players. However, I decided on the sleek and conservative design of the concert zither – or more correctly, Luftresonanz-Concert Zither ("Air resonant"). Andi's lines on this instrument are so elegant, that it is simply a pleasure to look at.

Zitherträume

2009-09-27T10:13:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of experience working with instrument builders: "Patience" is my motto! I don't know that there is anything grander than the anticipation of a fine instrument. Besides, I'm not sure that pestering the builder does anything other than either annoy him, at best, or tempt him to cut corners, at worst.

However, my zither should be approaching its final stages. Soon, I hope, Andi and I will have a conversation about shipping it to the U.S. I am working at exercising patience.

I realize that this is a kind of addiction, and I know that I'm not alone. Perhaps someone should start a twelve-step program for those addicted to buying instruments. However, I wouldn't attend: I'm happy in my addiction.

Instant gratification may seem appealing, but there are so many things to prepare for, to dream about, in acquiring a new instrument. Although my other musical interests remain intact, there has been the continuous glow of my Zitherträume: recordings to listen to, web sites to explore, and – of course! – music to buy. Indeed, the very first thing I did was order a broad selection of music from Psalteria in Innsbruck. Some of this is music I might aspire to play, but some of it is music I simply wanted to see on paper, such as Harald Oberlechner's Fantasia and Isolde Jordan's DREIve; I do aspire to play Isolde's Mikroludien, and maybe ultimately her fascinating Unlimited Strings. I remain enthralled at the eclectic musical chemistry emanating from Innsbruck.

Of course, I need a rational course of study. I still have my Method for Zither by A. Darr: faded and beat up. It is, I believe, the only method with an English translation. It also progresses too rapidly in its 58 pages and 99 exercises. So, I ordered Adalbert Albrecht's Volkstümliche Zitherschule. Darr's method was introduced in 1888, whereas Albrecht's more "modern" method was published in 1915: it appears more comprehensive, but I will have to start working much harder on my German.

I probably should mention that I also bought Günter Andrich's Von Anfang an, a contemporary method aimed at beginners, primarily children. I guess I should start there!

Earlier, I made somewhat unkind observations about the traditional alpine folk music associated with the zither, suggesting that only one recording was all I would ever need. It happens that Zithermusig has become a family favorite. After all, what is more intoxicating than a perfectly symmetrical melody, perfectly played? I have assured my wife that I be playing such music on my new zither. How could I not?

Lightning Strikes Twice

2009-09-26T08:52:00.000-07:00

No sooner had I received my second volume of Murray Perahia's glorious recording of the Partitas, then I heard of András Schiff's. I had to have it, of course, even though I would be building yet another glut of Bach recordings. Arkiv Music is so speedy with fulfilling orders that it was literally only a few days before it showed up on my door.

I'm not going to tell you that one is better than the other. Indeed, overall they are more similar than different, differing only in details. If you like the details, you can savor them, moving from recording to the other. If you simply want a substantive and poetic reading, either will do; Schiff's costs less and might have a slight edge for sound quality. Or does it? It is recorded at a slightly higher level than Perahia's, so if you equalize the volume, the sound is more alike, than not. Subjectively, Schiff's recording seems to have a little more "presence" to my ears.

Schiff has been a "Bach specialist" longer than Perahia. He seems to have a little more fun, both in adding occasional flourishes and thoughtfully applying notes inégales in just the right places. He also seems to use a little more of the piano's dynamic range and occasionally adds some intriguing articulation. Neither performance is mired in 19th century excess, nor do they try to establish a faux harpsichord-like texture.

It is interesting to note that Schiff privately plays the clavichord and Perahia played the harpsichord while recovering from his hand injury. I would like to think that this influenced the gorgeous touch each has. Richard Troeger has a recording of the Partitas on clavichord that is full of energy, although I find the sound to be uninspiring. I have enjoyed Christoph Rousset's early recording on the harpsichord for many years, but it does not seem to be available. Neither approaches the level of poetry of either piano recording. There are ample recordings, especially on the harpsichord, but by lesser known performers; I have tasted a few and found them competent, but not inspiring.

Just as I have written that Sebastian Bach's Well Tempered Clavier would be on my essential desert island list, the Partitas belong there two, as the perfect complement. Fernando Valenti, a seemingly forgotten name to all but the hard core harpsichord enthusiast, wrote a book nearly twenty years ago devoted to his observations on performing and solving various musical problems posed by the Partitas. The book is cleverly organized as a series of hypothetical questions and answers. There is a lot of wisdom, common sense, and even good humor: this book has always been a delight. Consider for a moment the first question associated with the Allemanda of Partita VI:

QUESTION 1: Now here is a novelty: a German composer calling a German dance by its Fench name and translating it into Italian!

Another favorite quote, in reference to the Gigue in Partita IV:

A gigue should be played at an appropriate tempo. This does not mean a speed at which a resident orthopedist is required "just in case." Nevertheless, it will not be slow.

The postscript sums the challenge up:

A book such as this is an exercise in tightrope walking at best, and must be brought to a close before the inevitable fall.

It is a book well worth reading, and fortunately, it seems to be still available. Meanwhile, I am open to discovering the "ultimate" harpsichord recording of the Partitas. Sorry, but after the revelations of both Perahia and Schiff, that recording is one of the "classics" by Leonhardt, Ross, Gilbert, etc. I still remember the vibrant live performance by young Benjamin Alard: now, I would rush to buy that recording, if ever made!

Best for Last

2009-09-24T10:51:00.000-07:00

I wrote last December about Murray Perahia's first volume of the Partitias. I have been waiting ever since for the companion volume, not only because I liked the first so much, but because he saved the best for last.

I love all of the Partitias: they really are some of Sebastian's very best. Even he thought so, declaring them his Op. 1. And, of them, what is more glorious than Partita 1 – especially the Praeludium? Although Gould managed to mangle many of the movements in the Partitas, some were done with exquisite perfection, including the Praeludium. However, Perahia maintains an even keel throughout. No. 6, in e minor might use just a little more pathos, but Parahia's restraint actually builds intensity. No cheap tricks or thrills, just honest, straightforward music.

However, I just heard that András Schiff has also released a (second) recording of the Partitas. This forced me to break my "rule" of not buying too many copies of the same work – especially Bach. However, Schiff's recording of the Inventions remains my favorite; indeed, I like all of his Bach. I guess I'll have to write about it when I get it, which should be soon. Rules are made to be broken, and how could I pass up the opportunity to listen to what a mature Schiff will do with some of Bach's best.

Digital Impermanence

2009-09-20T14:07:00.000-07:00

Almost my entire recording collection has been saved on disk. Actually, saved twice: once in lossless format, a second time in compressed format for playing on my iPod. I stream my collection over wireless to a couple of devices around the house, and I have come to rely on this service.

I dedicated a one terabyte (one million million – a very big number) disk to this task. It took many days to complete the task of transferring my recordings to disk – so much time and effort that I decided it prudent to occasionally back up everything to a second disk. "Just in case..." Two days before I left on vacation I began experiencing strange problems with my musical playback. I didn't suspect the disk because I had just made a couple of significant changes to my software environment: I upgraded to the new Mac OS "Snow Leopard" and that required I update the software that provides my house-wide service. Perhaps the frantic last minute plans for my vacation clouded my reasoning, but I was very fortunate in backing up everything just days before. Eventually, the primary disk failed. Had I not been backed up, I would have lost all that effort.

Hardware failures are like that: tricky little bastards that have little concern for our convenience and that can mask their symptoms so as to lead you astray. Computer hardware fails... always: it is just a matter of time! In particular, disks, which have sensitive mechanical components, are likely to fail most frequently.

Digital storage in my household has become a critical service. Not only is my music stored, but my photos and movies, and increasingly important documents. These are all too precious to lose. There is too much to conveniently back up, except to another disk, which itself is vulnerable. Only the fool thinks lightning doesn't strike twice with computer hardware.

There is a good solution, one that is well-known to the business world: RAID, or "redundant array of inexpensive disks." With RAID, data can be spread across multiple disks in such a way that if any one of them fails, the original data can be rebuilt from the remaining disks. The simplest approach is simple mirroring: the same data is automatically written to two disks, giving you instant backup. A better approach is spread the data across multiple disks with enough extra information, automatically calculated, so that any one of the disks can be removed and the original data can be recovered from what is left over.

RAID disk units are essentially specialized computers in themselves, so this solution costs more than just disks, which are quite inexpensive these days. It is an insurance policy and you have to ask yourself just how much that data is worth to you. The thought of going back to CDs (which, incidentally, can also fail) is more than I can bear. I have lived a couple of weeks without my home music "service" and I want it back!

Fortunately, such disk solutions are becoming less expensive and more readily available. Most are implemented as "NAS," or "network attached storage" devices that connect to your computer through Ethernet; indeed, one NAS can service a number of computers on the network. What I really wanted was something that basically looks just like a disk that is plugged directly into my computer. I want it to be fast, very easy to configure, and virtually invulnerable. While on vacation I met a gentleman to gave me a great lead: Drobo. I'm a bit surprised that I was unaware of this new company, since I have been employed in the computer industry for over a quarter of a century. A unit configured with four 1 TB disks will give me 2.7 TB of protected storage. If a disk fails, a status light informs me and all I have to do is replace it. The unit will rebuild everything and life goes on.

This raises the question of how much storage do I realistically need. I originally assumed that I would need 1 TB to store approximately 1,000 disks. In fact, it took only about a third of that storage, only about 300 GB. Although I am steadily adding to my collection, it took me almost 30 years to get to 1,000 CDs. So, that original 1 TB is probably more than sufficient for my lifetime! A Drobo unit with four 500 GB disks would provide 1.8 TB of protected storage, probably sufficient for all my needs. However, I'm putting everything else on that device. Digital photos and especially movies accumulate quickly and I hate to throw anything away. Disks are inexpensive, so it is better to think big.

I wonder how quickly I might grow my collection to 2,000 CDs, now that I'll have sufficient and safe storage for it!

Well Tempered Clavichord

2009-09-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

I have mentioned numerous times that if I had to pick a favorite work, it would surely be Sebastian Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier. When I was growing up, it was better known as the Well-Tempered Clavichord, even though hardly anyone knew what a clavichord was. It is a work that works well on any medium, but today I proclaim that it works best on the clavichord, at least in the hands of Jaroslav Tůma.

Several recordings on the clavichord exist. Ralph Kirkpatrick recorded both books. Unfortunately, those two recordings are considered classics and won't go away: they should. Each book is recorded on a different instrument, each worse-sounding than the other (an intentional circular paradox). The real travesty is the performance, which I find cold, brittle, and rushed. If those recordings were my introduction the clavichord, I would flee. However, Colin Tilney recorded Book One on an original Hass instrument. It is lovely playing and a not terrible – but not great – sound. An innovation of Tilney's was performing them following the circle of fifths, rather than chromatically. This makes more harmonic sense, and is refreshing change.

I have had Tůma's Book One for quite some time. I believe it is the single most played recording in my collection. I love the sound of Martin Kather's clavichord, which has octave strings in the bass, I like Tůma's playing of it, which is confident and expressive, and I love the way he performs each prelude and fugue: simply, honestly, and spontaneously. There are no extremes, no quirky mannerisms, just solid music making. Sadly, this recording has been impossible to get in North America, so I have been a lone voice in the wilderness, extolling its charms.

I was excited when I heard that Book One was being re-issued, along with Book Two. I have complained before that there simply not enough recordings of Book Two on any instrument, and I believe this is the first on clavichord. I was ecstatic when my friend Martin Kather mailed me a copy – the recording is on the Arta label, not readily available in North America. However, it looks like it can be ordered directly, and if you are a lover of either the clavichord or Bach, or both!, you should order it.

Tůma's reading of Book Two has everything I like in Book One. Although the clavichord is different in design ('after German masters in a French style'!), any differences in sound are too subtle to describe. My only complaint is over Tůma' embellishments in the Prelude in f minor. The first time I thought it was refreshing and original. Unfortunately, recordings are permanent records, and that "refreshing and original" interpretation begins to sound affected, and after a while, it can even annoy. Any annoyance is quickly dissipated by the fugue. I'll bet that in practice Tůma embellishes it differently each time he plays, as Sebastian would have. Indeed, what these recordings really capture is the feeling of sitting in a room listening to a artist simply play for himself. I would hope that each pearl sounded a little different each time, influenced by both mood and muse.

Stiff Handel

2009-09-04T06:11:00.000-07:00

I received my recording of Hank Knox's Handel Domestic Opera quickly. This was doubly promising: a different perspective on Handel's music, consisting of arrangements of portions of his operas, performed on three very appropriate period instruments.

As we all know, Handel really can really turn a tune, and there is plenty in these pieces: the recording should be an orgy of pleasures. Alas, the pieces are performed with a mechanical stiffness, so that I can barely make it through the recording. Mr. Knox clearly has all of the technical resources he needs, in fact plays brilliantly, but the performance is so metronomic that the life is sucked out of the beautiful tunes. I fear that this is, at best, background music.

The instruments themselves show promise, but it seems that they are miked too closely, and in unfavorable acoustics: it is a dry sound on top of a dry performance.

Meanwhile, Jory Vinikour's recording has been very favorably reviewed and he is interviewed in FanFare Magazine this month. I hope the recording is "successful" (a relative term in this niche market..) and that we can look forward to more from Jory: he is better known in concert than in recording and he is one of the real harpsichord virtuosos today.

The real "prize" must go to a recording by Christopher Hogwood on clavichords that I wrote about a couple of years ago: The Secret Handel. Re-listening to reminded me what delightful and brilliant recording it is.

Stupendous Schubert

2009-09-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

I'm very binary over the recordings of Andreas Staier, especially his more recent ones: I really like them, or not. There's no middle ground. The recordings I like really like have been recorded on the fortepiano, and are all best-of-class. He did three recordings of Haydn almost 20 years ago that are simply fabulous; it has taken me the better part of those 20 years to fully appreciate the genius of Haydn, but now that I do, these remain my favorites. In 2001 he also released a 2-CD set of late Schubert sonatas on the Teldec label: Staier's best recordings, at least until he released his latest. Recorded on an 1825 Johann Fritz, they had just the right amount of intensity, and the early pianoforte provides a great deal of character.

Staier's latest is at least the equal in quality and intensity. He takes the Sonata op. 78, 'Fantasy,' with a little more energy and edginess than Mitsuko Uchida's recording, which I have always like. In fact, "edgy" is just the word I'm looking for. I find that same edginess in Staier's Bach, and it just doesn't work for me there, but that is what makes both his Haydn and Schubert stand out.

The recording is on a copy of an 1827 Graf, built by Christopher Clarke. I hesitate to call any of the Graf copies I've heard "fortepianos": they sound very much like today's modern piano, except with more character. The instrument on the recording appears to be tuned A440; I assume the combination of earlier scaling with higher string tension for the higher pitch changes the character somewhat. Regardless, it is a lovely sound, and the sound engineering is simply grand.

Schubert's late sonatas are large, symphonic works. Op. 78 is a work of almost 40 minutes. I think these are where I feel the real genius of Schubert; his symphonies, chamber pieces, and lieder are lovely. His sonatas are profound, both in scope and depth. I don't think just anyone can play these: the performer needs sufficient genius of their own. Staier clearly has the right stuff.

The recording concudes with the four late Impromptusop. posth. 142. It's a little disorienting not to hear these paired with the early Impromptus, but that made me listen a little more closely. These are not trivial, and the four could almost constitute a sonata: even the keys – f minor, a-flat major, b-flat major, and returning to f minor – make harmonic sense.

This is a stupendous recording, not to be missed.

More Scrumptious Schumann

2009-08-30T11:04:00.000-07:00

Although I have always considered Robert Schumann an uneven composer, there are some works that really grab me. A favorite work – and I mean across all composers – is his song cycle Dichterliebe. I have two recordings of this, and have considered getting a third. None of his other works have had quite the same impact until I ran into Davidsbündlertänze.

This is the positive side of an infatuation with a particular performer, in this case Paolo Giacometti: exploring literature I have passed by. Giacometti's latest recording is on a modern piano. Up until now, I have known him as a "specialist" in period instruments of the 19th century. There is no reason to pigeonhole him. It seems like each recording of his I get is better than the last.

His latest recording has drawn very positive reviews. It should. Giacometti brings warmth to his performance without being sappy. He has just the right amount of romanticism to bring out the best in Schumann. His touch is exquisite. The recording quality is superb; it is a SACD and it would be interesting to hear this on an appropriate surround system, just to see if the sound could possibly be better.

Only three years passed between composition of Davidsbündlertänze and Dichterliebe. I feel the connection. Both are comprised of miniatures, but they seem to fit together as a whole. Schumann at his best.

I wonder what recording project Giacometti will take on next. He has risen to status of "favorite artist" – whatever he records, I'm sure I'll buy it.

Forced Handel

2009-08-29T08:03:00.000-07:00

I go through musical fads. Right now, there are two composers that I have been exploring: Schumann and Handel. I can't find any connection between the two. My Handel interest was sparked by Jory Vinikour's fabulous 2-CD collection, which still resonates with me. It actually improves with listening. My best recordings are that way.

I noticed that Siegbert Rampe had also recently released a Handel CD. I have most of Rampe's CDs, but struggle to explain my reaction when I re-listen to one: "that's not so bad!" In fact, it's generally quite good, but for some reason I tend to remember something less positive. Something is missing. I can at least partially explain it: the quality of the sound on his recordings is excellent, but I don't like the sound of many of the instruments themselves. Many of his recordings feature a combination organ, harpsichord, and clavichord: generally a clash of aural textures to start with. As much as I like the concept of presenting each instrument, the actual sound of his chosen harpsichords and clavichords simply does not please.

Rampe is a notable scholar. He has all of the dexterity of a virtuoso, plays with intelligence, and chooses interesting repertoire, which I think is really why I have so many of his recordings. Also, the recording quality on the MDG Gold label really sparkles. The tracks on which Rampe plays organ are a sonic treat.

Getting back to the Handel recording: Rampe's "hook" is the choice of instrument: a harpsichord built by Matthias Kramer in which the builder embellished on an instrument by Christian Zell dated 1728, adding a 16' register. This is a very interesting idea, and it yields an instrument with a really big sound that, of course, is very rich in the bass. Rampe goes on to try and convince that this instrument was representative of what Handel owned himself:

My own research has recently revealed that the harpsichord prior to 1734, was a 16-foot model and seems to have had six registers [...] The only evidence is the draft of a painting intended for the underside of the lid [...] I have deduced the provenance and specification of the instrument solely from the proportions of the lid, which are specific to the Hamburg region.

Sorry, but I am something of a cynic when I encounter what I consider pseudo-science, and I guess I get grumpy with I see it mixed with art. I don't think it is necessary. Rather than trying to establish a forced academic legitimacy, it would have worked better for me had he said, 'There were 16-foot harpsichords in Hamburg at the time and Handle may have played one. I found this really cool modern recreation of a 16-foot instrument and thought it would be great to present what this music would sound like on a big instrument like it.'

The instrument is interesting: big and muscular. It brings out the masculine qualities of Handel's music. It comes across a bit bombastic. At the risk of picking a fight with the temperament fanatics, I find the choice of mean-tone distracting. The notes claim, 'There can be no doubt that in Hamburg Handel still used mean-tone temperament with pure thirds...' I'll admit, the moment someone starts a sentence with 'There can be no doubt...', my doubt-radar engages. Sorry, but I don't buy it. Where the pure thirds work, it is indeed lovely. Where the tonality strays, it gets ugly, and I don't see such a supremely vocal composer embracing that.

Perhaps my issue with Rampe's performance is that he over-thinks things. Listening closely, I find many aspects to like: nice articulation, great clarity, and even moments of poetry. This recording is full of bits and pieces, and I think some may really like it. However, by comparison, I find Vinikour to have more heart and a more poetic instrument; I wish Vinikour's recording had the same superb recording conditions and engineering.

I see that Hank Knox also has a Handel recording of interest, transcriptions from his operas. I think I'll have to get that.

French Empfindsamkeit

2009-08-17T08:02:00.000-07:00

It is often claimed that the clavichord is a uniquely German instrument, that the French ignore it – at best – and generally hold it in low esteem. I have seen numerous references, claiming that the French considered it "a box of flies" and I believe Hanns Neupert claimed that the French used the phrase "they are playing the clavichord" to mean the couple were engaged in an affair.

Indeed, I have found my French friends much more interested in the harpsichord, and because of that it has been difficult to sell them on the most characteristic music of the clavichord, that of the Empfindsamer Stil (sensitive style). In other words, the music of Emanuel Bach.

To my great surprise – and eternal delight! – I was given a recent recording of Emanuel Bach's music by a young French clavichordist, Mathieu Dupouy: Pensées nocturnes ("night thoughts.") This recording is a revelation: Dupouy understands Empfindsamkeit perhaps better than any other performer I have heard. It is performed on a fretted clavichord after Hubert, built by Hamburg builder Martin Kather: it has a sweet sound with a large dynamic range. Dupouy obviously has strong and nimble hands, and occasionally he attacks some of the notes a bit forcefully. I think a few more years with this fine instrument will yield a more even and subtle touch, but I must I was captivated by the energy and vision of this young musician.

Also, the performer's essay is worthy of note: the most lucid and insightful discussion of Empfindsamkeit I have read. It is clear that Dupouy has both intellect and heart. The perfect combination for this music.

The program is nicely balanced, opening with two Fantasias and ending with the obligatory Abschied von meinem Silbermannischen Claviere, in einem Rondo. Included are two sonatas I am quite familiar with, Wq. 65/30 and 59/1, both in e minor. A third, Wq. 65/27 in c minor, has escaped me up to this point. For some reason this third sonata is played at a noticeably lower level, providing a somewhat startling contrast. There is no doubt that Depouy plays with remarkable control of his dynamics.

Let us hope that we hear much more from this young artist. He has cleared the dry cob webs that can cover this music. Could a Frenchman reinvigorate interest in this quintessential German instrument and repertoire? Wouldn't that be something!

The devoted Emanuel Bach enthusiast must obtain this CD. It can be ordered via the web site label-herisson.com.

Rameau Redux

2009-08-16T10:06:00.000-07:00

It has been my experience that it is impossible to not like Rameau. So, why don't we hear more of his glorious music? I think his Pièces de Clavecin en Concerts is a guaranteed pleaser: a perfect alternative to Bach's Brandenburg Concertos. This may be an unfortunate comparison, leading to confusion; I link them only in that they are ensemble pieces of the Baroque period that are full of energy and delight.

Rameau's collection of pieces is for harpsichord plus other instruments: there is a great deal of leeway as to what those other instruments are. Rameau provides suggestions in his preface how to adapt the music to various instruments. They aren't concertos, yet the harpsichord has a very prominent role throughout. Indeed, the harpsichord part is not for the amateur or faint of heart: it is dazzling and technically challenging. The only thing that could ruin this music, I think, is a harpsichordist not up to the challenge.

There are five concerts, each with three or four movements, each with fanciful a title, such as La Pantomime, or L'Indiscrète. A delightful new recording came into my possession by a group calling itself Baroque Nouveau: Charles Sherman as the harpsichordist, Anthony Martin on violin, Stephen Schultz on the baroque flue, and Josh Lee on the viola da gamba. While Charles Sherman isn't generally recognized as a "big name" harpsichordist, he has been active in the American early music scene and is well known and respected as a continuo and ensemble player. He obviously came well prepared to the recording studio and demonstrates exactly the sparkle these pieces demand, along with a sensitivity to his fellow collaborators: this is a true ensemble performance.

The recorded sound is excellent. This is a studio recording, the sound is neither dry nor too live. Barry Brenesal complains in his Fanfare review about the prominence of the harpsichord in the balance. Excuse me? This is music for which the harpsichord part can be played solo, and ultimately it is the harpsichord that carries the music! He goes on to recommend against the recording because he happens to like the (much) earlier recording by the Trio Sonnerie. I am a regular subscriber to Fanfare, and value it, but I find many of the reviewers to be hopelessly addicted to the recordings they are already familiar with. Indeed, I find most of the Fanfare reviewers to be naive about – if not prejudiced against – "early music" and Historically Informed Practice. Fanfare Magazine really is a resource for music of the 19th and early 20th centuries, with a frequent proclivity for performers and ensembles of prior generations: conservative and downright reactionary; I am often appalled at how many of their reviews are for reissued recordings.

I also have Blandine Rannou's recording of these pieces. It provides subtle differences in tempos and interpretation and a sound that is perhaps slightly less clear – the harpsichord is just as prominent! I'd be unwilling to claim one was "better" than the other. Both are faithful to the music, which is full of delights.

The Puppy Ate My Blog

2009-08-15T14:35:00.001-07:00

I have been quiet, not because I have nothing to say, but because I found myself the owner of a sweet little English Cocker puppy, and she has dominated the same time period I reserve to writing my blog: the early morning.

It was unplanned, but in retrospect the right thing to do. My daughter started this adventure: she got a male English Cocker, named Obi-Wan. Since I work at home, I found myself baby-sitting Obi-Wan. Each day I did so, I could think of fewer reasons not to have my own canine companion. So, when the buyer for Obi-Wan's sister suddenly backed out, I found myself her new owner. We named her Princess Leia...

Life is starting to return to some semblance of normality, now that she is four months old. I have so much to write about. While music fills my life, Princess Leia helps keep it in perspective. I will strive to be the man she thinks I am!

Handle on Handel

2009-07-05T11:43:00.001-07:00

Handel is no Bach, but I mean this as a good thing! I find it amazing that these two giants, who were born almost within a month of each other and barely 100 miles apart, were so unique. For some reason, George's solo keyboard works have not fared as well as Sebastian's. They offer a welcome respite from an over-played and over-recorded mainstream.

Handel favored the English spelling of his name. He so dominated England in the first half of the 18th century that I have chosen to identify his harpsichord music as "Harpsichord - English" in my iTunes schema, which includes the genres "Harpsichord - French," "Harpsichord - German," and "Harpsichord - Italian." I just don't think of him as a German composer.

Most amazing is that Handel's keyboard oeuvre is so under-represented, beyond The Harmonious Blacksmith. It has the best of Handel embedded in it: a strong vocal line, along with some really marvelous counterpoint. One harpsichordist friend shed a little light on this mystery: Handel's keyboard style is far less playable than Bach's. It is full of thick textures and difficult reaches. This fits: I believe he was both physically big and also one of those larger-than-life personalities. I picture Sebastian Bach as more compact, and we know he favored the smaller keyboards of Mietke. Actually, one would think that the challenge of Handel's keyboard pieces would make them more attractive.

I have had harpsichord collections by Sophie Yates and Blandine Verlet for some years and just couldn't get passionate about the music. It was nice: damning it with faint praise... Verlet's recording suffers from a less-than-ideal sound. Yate's has a fine sound and there is nothing wrong with the playing, except that it just fails to excite me. Neither recording really has drawn me back with any frequency, so I am guilty of listening to "too much" Bach.

I think this music has a very masculine quality to it, and it is music well suited to a virtuoso touch. My favorite recording has been by Keith Jarrett on the modern piano – an energetic and nicely articulated performance. Murray Perahia also has a recording of Handel and Scarlatti in combination on the modern piano that I actually find just a little too sensitive to sustain interest.

Although Jarrett makes the music work pretty well on the piano, even it is missing the sparkle that the harpsichord could bring. Fortunately, Jory Vinikour has released a 2-CD collection that I am forced to admit I had ignored simply because I had given up on the music itself. However, Jory is a true virtuoso (I mean this in the best sense of the word), and has the right handle on Handel.

First of all, the recording was done on exactly the right kind of harpsichord: an instrument built by John Phillips after the 1739 Gräbner. Phillips is generally considered one of the top American harpsichord builders. I usually find his instruments to be bland – never bad, but just not an instrument that pops out and grabs me by the ears. Not so this instrument: it has a big, rich sound with a great deal of character. I would almost go so far as to describe it as "organ-like," which coincidentally would be ideal for Handel's music. This particular instrument has a rather extraordinary range of DD-d''', extending a fourth lower than most harpsichords that would be used for this music; it sounds like Vinikour occasionally uses those lower notes, perhaps accounting for the "organ-like" sound. The recorded sound is just a bit live, but not offensively so: clearly the church the recoding was done in was quite resonant.

The temperament used is the so-called "Bach-Lehman." I wouldn't normally mention the temperament, but I found this interesting for at least two reasons. First of all, the "Bach-Lehman" temperament is a rather controversial synthesis, based on interpretation of squiggles Bach made on a manuscript. It's actually a very nice temperament, but I refuse to believe it has any direct association with Bach, let alone Handel. It is strange to see it popping up with increasing frequency, when there are so many other fine temperaments with a stronger historical claim. There is a rather well documented "Handel Temperament" that I have tuned with many times does have a more authentic claim to Handel. Any argument over temperaments is just asking for a fight in the wrong circles, and I find most listeners could hardly care if it were Vallotti, Weckmeister, or "Bach-Lehman"!

The second reason I mention the temperament is that a couple of the suites wander into more "remote" tonalities that will bring out the "color" in a non-equal temperament.In particular, the suites in E Major and F-Sharp Minor on the second CD will either delight the connoisseur of HIP (historically informed performances) or cause those too comfortable with the pabulum of equal temperament to occasionally cringe. Often recordings will "adjust" the tuning to smooth out the rough spots, but not so on this recording. I say, bravo! I fail to see what good different keys serve if they all sound the same!

Enough about the unimportant things: what is important is the performance itself. The 2-CD set includes the eight "Great" Suites of 1720. Not all of these are the French style suites we are so familiar with, often diverging from the standard dance movements. The suite in F Major, by far the shortest of the bunch, consists of only four movements, Adagio-Allegro-Adagio-Allegro: not a single dance there! As I stated earlier, Vinikour is a real virtuoso, and I can't help but recall his San Diego recital almost four years ago, notable for his performing from memory (unusual with harpsichordists) and with astonishing command and bravura. What I find interesting is that Vinikour actually plays many of the movements more broadly than either Verlet or Yates, yet manages to breath life and excitement into everything.

Handel isn't caught up with dance, but rather with song. This should come as no surprise, given his focus on operas and oratorios. This is exactly why these suites are such a refreshing change. Also, Handel was a showman, and his solo keyboard works are more extroverted. Bach, of course, is the ultimate introvert. It may be that the Handel is actually more difficult to perform, not just because of the notes, but because in the wrong hands the music can lapse into banality. Vinikour has a clear vision for the music and makes it compelling. This is a recording not to be missed!

Zitherjourney

2009-06-27T11:27:00.000-07:00

I have been studying German, brushing aside the cobwebs resulting from 40 years of non-use. One of the many beauties of the German language is its power to create compound words that mean exactly what they should, that are very evocative of something greater than the sum of the words. For example, to say that I have embraced a "zither journey" means little. It should be "zitherjourney." Would this be "zitherreise" in German?

My zitherjourney is all about a re-discovery of music, and it is very exciting – very "re-energizing." This is not to say that I am in any crisis over music: my cup runneth over. The scope of Music is so vast that I understand why some feel compelled to specialize their interests, to limit their options so that they aren't overwhelmed. I don't want to be like that: I want music to be Music. What I have seen in the tiny zither community is a breadth and sensitivity to music that is an inspiration. The zither is an instrument that has been re-inventing itself over the last several decades and I think the important thing is that it has enough musical resources to do really interesting things... at least, in the right hands. The progressive forces in the rather small zither community are doing really interesting things across the entire gamut of music, and with great taste.

Just recently I received three CDs that demonstrate what I'm talking about. I'm afraid they may be a bit difficult to get from North America, which is a real shame. The first is by the distinguished zither player and teacher Georg Glasl: music for zither and viola, with the viola played by Kelvin Hawthorne. It is interesting to note that the "melody strings" of the standard concert zither, referred to as the diskant zither, are tuned to the same pitches as the viola. In fact these two instruments very complimentary. (Some of the pieces use the alt zither, which is tuned a fourth lower, which makes the texture even richer.) With the exception of Bach cello suite arranged for the solo zither, the music is all 20th Century, in a progressive, but fundamentally tonal and romantic style. One cannot listen to this recording and fail to take the zither seriously, especially as a small ensemble instrument. While the first impression is that the zither sounds like a guitar, it really has the sound and resources of two guitars, with a great depth to its bass. I find the metal strings to the "melodic" portion of the instrument provides an appropriately sharp sound that makes it work very well in a small ensemble.

The second CD is a remarkable pairing between zither and Countertenor: Horchend Still. The zither player, Gertrud Wittkowsky, uses three different sizes of zither: the alt, diskant, and a quint, which is tuned an fifth above the diskant zither. The Countertenor is Franz Vitzthum; I have to believe he is well known in the world of countertenors. The the collaboration is magical, as is the program: a smorgasbord of delights, opening with Mozart's Komm, liebe Zither, originally written for the mandolin; the diskant zither sounds very much like a mandolin in the accompaniment. Both a solo version of Dowland's Lacrymae Pavane and the vocal version, Flow my Tears, demonstrate how "lute like" the zither can be and what a sensitive accompanist Ms. Wittkowsky is. Ms. Wittkowsky plays several solo zither pieces, including a favorite of mine, Unlimited Strings, by Isolde Jordan. There are two recordings of this hypnotic minimalist piece. I recently acquired the score to this piece and have been playing it on the clavichord – I don't know if I can hope to reach the level of accomplishment at which I can play it on the zither.

Finally, there is the stunning recording Ziegether by Michal Müller, a Czech zither player and singer. I would have bypassed this recording by because it looked like it was just popular/jazz music. I am fighting my tendencies to brush aside music that I don't think is "serious enough" or that is "too popular": this is a snobbery I don't want to be a part of! As Müller describes it, it is '[My] Own compositions and two arranged bohemian folk songs for zither-solo with and without singing. A musical mix of jazz, slavic folk motives, classical music and free improvisation.' Not only is the zither playing stunning – even that superlative word doesn't do it justice! – his musical imagination is a wonderment. He sings in Czech – I have absolutely no idea what about, but it is a gentle voice and seems to be a gentle language with Slavic overtones. Playing this recording daily is my newest guilty pleasure: the challenge is to play it only once per day.

These three recordings represent music spanning the fifteenth century to the modern day. For the most part, the use of the zither isn't idiosyncratic: it is entirely natural and I think more a reflection of rich imagination and supremely good musical taste. I want to get a piece of that combination in my zitherjourney!

Transitional Piano

2009-06-20T08:13:00.000-07:00

I have intended to write about two recordings by Paolo Giacometti for some time: the first two volumes of his complete Rossini for the solo piano, performed on two French pianos of the period, one by Erard, the other by Pleyel. Although Rossini's solo piano music doesn't pretend to be profound stuff, it has the humor and melodiousness that is Rossini's trademark. The two recordings provide a fascinating contrast between two instruments of the period: "almost pianos" that are much closer to the modern piano than the earlier fortepianos.

Giacometti is a brilliant artist, with a light and facile touch that is very pleasing. I see that he is into the 8th volume of Rossini. I don't know if I'm ready to invest in the complete set: I adore the two recordings, but don't find myself yearning for more of the same.

However, I ran across a reference that he had recorded Schumann on a period instrument by Johann B. Streicher, Vienna 1847. It was a program of pieces I don't already have on recordings: the Humoreske in B flat, opus 20, the Toccata in C, and the Phantasiestücke, opus 12. What a winning combination: a performer I admired, the lure of an interesting historic instrument, and music I had only passing familiarity with.

Giacometti's performance did not disappoint. He has a light and firm touch that is never overbearing, but is by no means reticent. It seems to me that Schumann is often played too heavily, something that is perhaps promoted by modern pianos.

The piano recorded was something of a disappointment, but only in that it doesn't have a character that I would consider unique from today's modern piano. It sounds like a very warm piano; if anything, the bass has a bit more character – perhaps something not everyone would like. I assume that it has an overall lighter action and I wouldn't doubt that it generates less volume. However, is the recorded instrument really representative of it's original sound? I'm not so sure. The recording was done at close to A=440. The "Paris Pitch" introduced Hamburg in 1864 was A=425, suggesting that the original tension would have been about half a semi-tone less, actually on the order of 60 cents. You really don't want your piano going that flat (although I'll bet there a lots of instruments sitting around, unloved, much worse!)

Regardless, it is a fine sound, a wonderful performance, and that is ultimately what I'm after. Exotic sounds are just a bonus.

As for the program, the Humoreske in B flat really stands out. This is a large romantic work that I find more appealing than most of Schumann's more popular works. (I guess I just don't get Kreisleriana, Carnaval, or especially Papillons. The Toccata is something of a trifle, too, but Giacometti makes it sound so absolutely effortless that I find it engaging. The Phantasiestücke is more along the lines of what I expect from Schumann: interesting, but not terribly profound little pieces. They fill out the program nicely.

Giacometti plays with depth and nuance. I'm a little surprised that he isn't more of a household name. Perhaps his light touch doesn't project in the concert hall well. He has a new recording out of Schumann's Davidsbundlertanze on the modern piano and with some good reviews. Perhaps this is the only way to "get on the charts," to record on a modern piano. I'll get that recording as soon as it is available here in the U.S. I've always suspected that I don't love Schumann as much as he deserves. Giacometti could move me in the right direction.

French Fad

2009-06-17T08:46:00.000-07:00

Until relatively recently, recordings of 17th century French lute music were hard to come by. Hopkinson Smith did a methodical survey starting in the mid-80's: recording both Gaultiers, Dufaut, Mouton, Gallot, and de Visée. I think he almost single handedly rediscovered and established this lost style. For a long time, he was virtually the lone voice and his recordings were definitive. I would argue that they still are.

Over the last five years some excellent recordings have appeared, mostly by students of Hoppy's. Rolf Lislevand gets my prize for most spontaneous and stylish in his La belle homicide, possibly the best single anthology of French lute music. Pascal Monteilhet has a couple of stunning recordings, but he apparently has retired to obscurity in the Philippines and those recordings are difficult to get. Another strong contender for single best collection is Claire Antonini's Les Luthistes Français Au XVIIème Siècle, but it is nearly impossible to get. So, it was with great hope that I ordered Joachim Held's latest recording, Musique pour le Roi.

I haven't written about Joachim Held as much as he deserves. I have mentioned his recording Delightful Lute-Pleasure Baroque Lute: music from the lands of the Habsburgs, which is on my top 10 lute recordings list. I acquired a second recording of his, Lute Music of the Renaissance: The Schele Manuscript Hamburg, 1619, which similarly impressed me, although the pieces were not quite as engaging. It looks like Herr Held has been very busy recording, each recording is an anthology from a period or style. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, it follows my natural taste to comfortably fall into one texture/style. On the other hand, it tends to focus too much on the "hits" of that period or style.

So, Musique pour le Roi is masterful programming that touches on some of the best of the period, covering the four "most important" composers, Vieux Gaultier, Gallot, Mouton, and de Visée. Both 11-course lute and a theorbo are used. The suite of Robert de Visée's music has a double advantage of being lesser known pieces, and performed on theorbo: this suite fares the best by far on the recording. The music is straightforward and lyrical, well suited to the performers straightforward and lyrical style.

The other pieces are not quite as successful. Joachim Held has some stiff competition, and by performers who seem more comfortable with the French style. While none of it is bad, he misses the subtle nuance that Smith exploits so masterfully. In fact, the Préludes are impossible jumbles of notes that I can't make sense of myself, but which sound so right in the hands of Smith and Lislevand.

I have found many lutenists to have a prejudice against the French repertoire, favoring the straightforward solidness of Weiss and Bach. I don't think Joachim Held's recording will change their mind. I think it takes a very special aesthetic to get the French music just right. So far, Hopkinson Smith's recordings still remain the "gold standard." Every time I listen any of his French recordings I am inspired to drop everything, take up my lute, and try to capture a little of that smoldering magic.

Alpine Aloha

2009-06-09T05:48:00.000-07:00

I know that someone who writes about 17th century French lute music and plays the clavichord could easily be stereotyped as a geeky intellectual, if not musical snob. However, I spent many years traveling to Hawai'i on business and the first thing I would do when I got into my rental car was to turn on the radio station. I always found Hawai'i to be a specially musical locale: the local musicians and taste are both fun and eclectic, with a real appreciation for a vocal line.

I have played the ukulele – the quintessential instrument of the Islands – for over 20 years. My current good ukulele, by Santa Cruz builder Rick Turner, is almost a small classical guitar: beautiful to look at, with a very round sound. It is a tenor, with a low G. Strung in Nylgut, an artificial gut, it has as sweet a sound as you could imagine. Because of its size, it accompanies me on trips. I don't play Louis Couperin or Emanuel Bach on it...

Although I appreciate Island Music, it is not in my daily diet. I'm not sure why, because it generally makes for a happier day. Must I be so serious all the time?

It was with special delight that Harald Quendler, of EXTRAPLATTE Music Productions, sent me a CD: Take One, performed by the Bonsai Garden Orchestra, nine Austrian men playing a variety of instruments, mostly related to the guitar, and singing Island Music. They are really good, and a lot of fun!

I would like to step back for just a second. Austria is a relatively small country – just about the size of Southern California, but with the population of only Los Angeles County – land-locked, much of it alpine. They have a rich musical heritage. Vienna could arguably be identified as the cradle of what we call "classical music" today, but they also have have a long standing folk tradition. One of the things I like about popular music in Hawai'i is how eclectic it is: it's not just the traditional Island music, but that serves as a base for other music of similar aesthetics. It is generally happy music, devoid of the angst of our Country Western music, where it seems that someone is always cheatin' on you, or the anger of our Hip Hop rap. (Actually, I have found the Hawaiians to be pretty accepting of everything, even the latter.) Hawai'i has a strong sense of musical community, and I used to love watching their local music awards – far better than the Oscars, Tonys, etc.

My introduction to EXTRAPLATTE came through a simple web search, which led to an extraordinary musical scene in Austria that bears resemblance to Hawai'i. Indeed, the alpine mountain songs and Ländler that I whined about recently are growing on me, and I know they would be appreciated in Hawai'i. EXTRAPLATTE is an important advocate for musical community of Austria, and it appears that they have have established this unique position for over 30 years. They promote all kinds of Austrian performed and produced music, including classical, folk, and much more progressive stuff.

Let me return to Take One. This really is a fusion of World elements. The opening piece, Ka Nani o Serra da Estrella is South Seas meets Iberia, infectious in both texture and rhythm. There are a number of songs in Hawaiian; I don't speak Hawaiian, but I have listened to a lot of it, and it sure sounds authentic. No Austrian accent that I can detect! Midnight on the Water is a Celtic waltz. Would it be an insult to infer that Austrian musicians really know what a waltz is? These guys prove it.

All the tracks are favorites, but the one I can't get out of my head is C'est Noyé: American Victoria Vox's French inspiration. How amazing that I would discover an American ukulele-accompanying singer through a group of Austrian men. Boy, am I out of it! Orchestra member Ken Emerson composed two tracks, the opening, and a very charming Ich Liebe Dich über Alles, a whimsical waltz, complete with Jew's harp. These guys know how to have fun: they belong in Hawai'i!

Before Bach

2009-06-06T11:23:00.000-07:00

The link is a little tenuous – a reference by the imaginative Forkel and attributed to Emanuel Bach – but it seems likely that Georg Böhm (born 2 Sept 1661; died Lüneburg, 18 May 1733) was admiry overlooked.

There isn't a lot of information about Böhm, the most useful information is available from Grove, wherHugh J. McLean eloquently writes:

It is Böhm’s keyboard works that reveal his strongest gifts. The extended Prelude, Fugue and Postlude in G minor, which successfully combines French grace and charm with north German intensity and depth of feeling, is one of the most important works of the period.

I've been playing his suite in c minor, the first in the Breitkopf & Härtel edition, edited by Klaus Beckmann. This is ideal clavichord music, using the subtle dynamic inflections to yield a surprisingly romantic suite. I can almost play it, although I will probably never do the Gigue justice.

The Prelude, Fugue and Postlude in G minor referenced above is easily Böhm's most recorded piece; the theme of the fugue does justice to Sebastian's taste and it would have been an interesting contrast to hear what he would have done with it. Never have I heard it more majestic or exciting than when Mahan Esfahani performed it here several years ago. Sadly, the much shorter suites are rarely heard. I think the best recording I have is by Gustav Leonhardt, performing on harpsichord and clavichord; the clavichord recorded is a large instrument with octave bass strings and therefore not very "authentic," although it creates a very nice organ-like sound. Another recording I have admired was by Robert Woolley, which I have always admired for its warmth. Mitzi Meyerson released a 2-CD set in 2003: I had high hopes for it, but was disappointed by what I thought was a coldness at the time. Listening to it now, I may have been hasty: this is really wonderful music, and it is a pleasure to have essentially a complete collection.

It seems to me that most of the German music between Froberger and Sebastian Bach is marginalized today, and therefore passed by. Perhaps the real "3 B's" should be Böhm-Buxtehude-Bach.

200!

2009-05-31T10:16:00.001-07:00

This marks the 200th posting on this blog. It is a cause for celebration, however minor. When I first started it in August of 2005, it was largely as an experiment for the relatively new medium of blogging. I was a cynic, but since I was in the Internet business, I knew I should try to understand it better. Along the way, it became something of a discipline: a regular ritual to try and write coherently, yet not too formally, about something of interest to me. Developing an audience was never the intent, but it has become a highlight.

Over the last month this blog has had slightly more than 400 visits. While readers from the United States form the single largest contingent, they don't account for the majority! Indeed, I have always been proud how the Internet has helped foster a global community. Thanks to it, I have friends in many countries. One of the finest moments of my life was being recognized at a concert in Bruges by a regular reader of this blog. More importantly, I think the more we are all exposed to other countries and cultures, the better our chance for sustaining prosperity and peace.

How do readers get to this site, and what are they looking for? It looks like slightly more than a third come here because they already know about the site and are returning; I would like to think that those readers don't find me a crashing bore and complete fool. Almost a quarter are referred from other sites. Over time, owners of other Web sites have seen something they find of interest, often to "reviews." I put the latter in quotations because I really isn't my intent to provide a rigorous review of anything, but rather a "snapshot" of what I find interesting–or very occasionally dislike.

The final traffic component comes from search engines. I have discovered that Google indexes my blogs very quickly; on at least one occasion I have had a reader contact me through a search within a few hours of a posting. It is interesting to examine the kinds of things that bring people to my blog: most are searching for harpsichord related topics. A search string that pops up with frequency is "d'Anglebert"; it is gratifying to know that I am not alone in the Universe in my love for this relatively obscure 17th century composer! My readership from Austria and Germany has dramatically increased since I started writing about the zither; I want those readers to know that jetzt studiere ich Deutsches. To my French readers, I offer my abject apologies for my failure to learn even a modicum of your glorious language: I started too late in life.

Speaking of "late in life," another frequent search string that brings readers to this site is "starting music late in life." The first time I saw this, I thought it was a fluke, but variants of it have been consistent. This is a topic of great interest, but which I have tended to avoid. It is never too late to build a music appreciation. I simply don't what to say to those who have retired and want to learn an instrument for the first time, but it should be words of encouragement, if not advice. I have been tempted to create an Internet community aimed specifically at those of us who are well into our midlife and who aren't professional musicians, and would be interested in comments.

Since I started this blog, I have survived a grim cancer, we have all survived a grim political regime in the U.S., I have acquired a vihuela, baroque lute, a couple of ukuleles, and have now commissioned a zither. (Perhaps you understand why I have "too many tuners...") I continue to play the clavichord enthusiastically, but poorly; the only instrument I have really mastered is the CD player. Although times are tough, it is also a time of hope. Music remains the anchor that keeps my boat from washing into the rocks.

Good-Natured Clavier

2009-05-31T06:54:00.000-07:00

I have discussed this before: Sebastian Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier is one of the single most satisfying works in all of musical literature. I stand by my words: it is an indestructible work of endless pleasures. By "indestructible," I mean that it is fully resilient to medium and interpretation, which is fortunate, as there is an endless supply of of new recordings. It would be an interesting exercise to graph the number of new records of Book One made each year: it must be a measure of something.

So, in these dark times, it is pleasure to have such an intelligent and good-natured recording as the one just released by my friend Rebecca Pechefsky. I lectured to her several years ago that the World really didn't need yet another Book One recording. I'm glad that she rejected my advice. Although I have yet to dislike a single recording I have heard, finding in each things to like, two recordings now stand out as personal favorites due to their warmth and sensibility: Jaroslav Tuma's on clavichord, and Rebecca's on harpsichord.

Rebecca's recording is somewhat unique, in that it is recorded on two different instruments, a double-manual Flemish and a single-manual Italian. Both serve the music well, although I find the Italian (built by Yves Beaupré) to be especially rich. Recording levels are such that I find this sounds best with the volume turned up a bit. It sounds like the microphones were placed a little farther away than one often hears on solo harpsichord, and so I find the sound (once adjusted) to be a bit more natural.

The notes are as engaging as the playing. Rebecca makes a claim that her use of the temperament Werckmeister III is unique to existing recordings. Whether or not that is true is unimportant to me: her willingness to raise the hackles of those academics who argue the use of temperaments with the religious fervor of a Music Taliban was breathtaking. Her rationale is well-argued, and ultimately as sensible as her playing. It is an intelligent choice, but a nuance that will be lost to most listeners. It is the playing that matters.

Henle Verlag publishes a study edition of both books (HN 9256 & 9258), an Urtext edition in compact size without the distractions of fingering. Perhaps less expensive scores are available, but I have always savored the grace and clarity of Henle's scores. There is no better way to really seriously listen than to follow with the score, even (or especially) if you are not a keyboard player. (I also just noticed that their latest full score edition is fingered by András Schiff. My older edition has fingering by Hans-Martin Theopold that I never found of great value. I fear that I can't justify buying the newer edition just to see Schiff's fingering...)

A moratorium on recording Book One should be instituted until some balance with Book Two is achieved! It is amazing how Sebastian could have a "do-over" with such profound depth and variety, but Book Two is too frequently overlooked or passed by. This time, instead of trying to convince Rebecca to not record something, I'm going to engage my powers of persuasion to convince her follow with a Book Two recording as a priority: I can't wait.

Too Many Tuners

2009-05-29T07:42:00.001-07:00

I have always been a fool for gadgets! Before I was seriously introduced to music, at the late age of 16, I was very much "the little scientist." As I have more enthusiasm than talent for music, it was appropriate that I ended up with a degree in Mathematics, working in the computer industry. I wish I was an artist, but I am more of a scientist/engineer: I'm good at fixing problems.

Of course, one very common problem in the music world is that of tuning. I can tune the "old way," just using my ears. It is a tedious and error-prone task. I know I could refine the skill, but my love for tuning gadgets stunted that growth!

My first device was a strobe (AutoStrobe 490ST) tuner from Peterson Tuners: it has a mechanical spinning wheel and you can judge how far out of tune a partial is by the direction of spin of one of the bands. In some ways, I think this is the the most useful device I have, because I can visually see what is happening with the various harmonic partials dynamically. It is important to note that when tuning, there really isn't just one frequency to consider, but the entire ladder of partials. Often the strongest partial isn't the fundamental note itself. The character of an instrument's sound is closely tied to the strength of partials it emits for each note, and they are rarely in perfect tune with each other. So, a good tuner instinctively makes compromises across the competing frequencies. This is why most electronic tuners rarely do as good a job as an expert human.

There is one problem with my AutoStrobe: it is far too big (and heavy) to be considered portable, or to sit anywhere convenient for tuning a keyboard instrument. This is an ideal instrument for the shop of an instrument builder, but not very convenient as a tool for a tuner. Peterson Tuners has kept up with the times, introducing a series of "virtual strobe" tuners. This is almost misleading, because they are capable of focusing on only partial. The first of these was their V-SAM tuner, which was put into a standard electronic test instrument package, complete with rubber armor around it. They shrunk this down to their StroboFlip, and have since released it in software form as the StroboSoft application, which is available for either the Windows or Mac platforms. All of these versions of virtual strobe tuners work basically the same. So, if I already have a StroboFlip (I gave my V-SAM to a friend when I got it), why would I need the software version? The answer to that question is that wherever I travel, I have my laptop; I rarely think to bring my StroboFlip. After all, I have to be prepared to tune at any moment, right? However, all of the virtual strobe tuners are primarily intended for non-keyboard instruments, in particular, instruments of the guitar and lute variety. The thought of trying to tune a piano with is ludicrous. I have had some luck with harpsichords, at least in the mid range. They have proven to be worthless in tuning clavichords.

Indeed, the clavichord presents a real challenge for electronic tuners, in general. The big strobe tuner works quite well, but is too awkward. I primarily use another tuner for the clavichord and other keyboard instruments, the Verituner 100. This device was expensive when I first got it, I think almost a decade ago, and its price has gone up. It comes as close to tuning the way a human would as I think possible: it measures all of the partials for each note and calculates a final target, based on their complex relationships. This is a device really intended for the professional piano tuner, but I have tuned for many harpsichord concerts with it.

I would have liked to have something like the Verituner for my laptop. I did buy the Reyburn CyberTuner in the hopes that it would be a suitable replacement. This software is very popular with piano tuners, and it is designed very specifically for pianos. I didn't have a lot of luck with it on the clavichord, worsened by the fact that my laptop made too much noise, interfering with the tuning itself. To top that disaster, Reyburn uses a USB dongle to manage their licenses that was nothing but trouble. For serious tuning, there is nothing like the Verituner.

If you want portability and accuracy without a lot of expense and only care about equal temperament, Peterson now has an iPhone/iPod application, iStroboSoft, for only $9.99. It basically works like Peterson's StroboSoft, stripped down to a minimum. It does let you set the frequency for A, which is crucial for those of us with early instruments. Although limited by its fixed temperament, this is a marvelous addition to my arsenal of too many tuners. As an added bonus, it is one heck of a gadget.

Zithermusig

2009-05-26T05:25:00.001-07:00

When I was 16 in Southern California, I was taking lessons on the zither, whereas my friends were studying the guitar. It is difficult to express how uncool that was, and I don't believe I ever once demonstrated this rather exotic instrument to them. Indeed, the music itself drove me away: ländlers and little mountain songs from my zither method, polkas, marches and waltzes on the recordings I had.

I abandoned the instrument, if only to escape the music. In all fairness, I was just as much drawn away by the allure of the classical guitar, which was much more exciting and progressive. Regardless of reason, alpine folk music has been just too kitschig for me all of these years, and I would never knowingly buy a recording of it. That is, until I ran into Ensemble Psalteria on YouTube. Although what ultimately attracts me is their eclectic approach to all kinds of music, old to new, there is no escaping that they perform the folk music so perfectly that one can't help but appreciate it. Although they avoid being associated exclusively with that genre, they created what I can only call the definitive recording on their own label, titled Zithermusig. (I have yet to figure out where "musig" comes from: I can find no such word in my German dictionary!)

This recording, which uses various combination of solo and duo zither, along with zither and recorder. It is, as my wife puts it, "happy music." Very happy: I don't believe there is a single piece in a minor key, and the polkas and "Boarischs" are perky to the point of annoyance. Indeed, the traditional zither favors a "oom-pah, oom-pah" and "oom-pah-pah" accompaniment that is great for polkas and waltzes, but gets a little cloying. For me, this is music best taken in small doses. But, don't get me wrong: it is all delightful music, in fact, music I'm sure one could learn to love with a passion.

This music can be exquisite. There are a few pieces with a poignancy that is heart-wrenching: Stade Weis' and Menuett Aus Dem Salzkammergut both have a sweet and memorable sentimentally that, well, makes one pine for a little cottage in a green alpine valley...

The recorder and zither seem to be near perfect complements to each other. The performers' precision is such that it is difficult to tell the zither duos and solos apart. Finally, the acoustic sound of the recording itself is ideal: live, rich, and very natural. This may be a specialty recording (and the only such collection that I intend to own!), but it is definitely a "best of breed."

Fresh puzzle

2009-05-16T05:58:00.000-07:00

Since this blog has built a modest regular (and global) readership, I have fallen into the trap of sometimes pandering to my imagined readers: censoring myself out of concern that the topic at hand might disinterest and drive them away. Web readership can be a fickle thing: most are simply looking for items that provide immediate interest to them. It seems to be human nature to become self-labeling: people are eager to define themselves in terms of what they like – and what they don't like. It would appear that my traditional topics around lute and early keyboard form the base of regular my readership is. So, my latest addition, the zither, seems doomed to drive readers away.

I have experienced such self-limiting prejudice even within my areas of interest. I have been told by some who appreciate the harpsichord that they aren't interested in the clavichord, by those who like the Renaissance lute that they don't like the Baroque lute. It seems to be a one-dimensional existence. Of course, we have all run into those who like "classical" – but not modern – music. This becomes almost amusing – and a sure sign of obsession – when you encounter those who only like "old" music, played on original instruments, with "historically informed practice" (HIP).

So, I feel compelled to take a stance on this topic: I'm all for music that is well-conceived and well-performed, regardless of labels. I find myself sometimes stuck in a rut, bored with the same familiar music. I have too many recordings of the Goldberg Variations, so on occasion I pull out the outrageous (but fun!) recording by Kurt Rodarmer on overdubbed guitar: it is full of excess energy and new texture, and is therefore reinvigorating. An even better solution would be to listen to something new. So, the puzzle for the day is to find something new, something fresh.

I am fascinated and inspired by the creative and eclectic musical energy that seems to be emanating from Innsbruck, Austria, and which happens to be associated with the zither. It seems that Trio Psalteria is at the epicenter. Consisting of primarily zithers, recorder and violin, they are almost certain to play at least some music that you find captivating. They seem incapable of playing just one kind of music, or to play it with anything less than total control and energy. That keeps things fresh!

There are those who have already judged the zither based on Anton Karas' Harry Lime Theme from The Third Man, finding it perhaps charming, but nothing more. I suggest that Trio Psalteria's CD puzzle: Musik für Zither aus dem 20. Jahrhundert could the be perfect antidote. This is available from that friendly Viennese shop, EXTRAPLATTE. This is a compilation of arrangements of attractive and rhythmic pieces by Béla Bartók, along with original music by much more obscure Austrian composers associated with the zither. The mood ranges from the light and fun, to the serious and possibly ponderous.

You won't hear anything you would readily identify as the zither in its traditional sense. Instead, you hear a colorful and versatile plucked string instrument with an astonishing range. Some of the music is "modernistic," but in a darkly romantic and only slightly dissonant sense. Harald Oberlechner's Präeludium demonstrates a harp-like sound and texture with a lot of harmonic flexibility and haunting texture. A live version of this piece can be seen on YouTube (the recording takes the tempo a bit faster, which I find works well):

The title piece, puzzle, is also by Oberlechner and is the longest and most serious of the collectiton. You could hardly stray farther from the light alpine Ländler associated with the zither than this weighty piece. I must confess that my favorite two pieces are by Isolde Jordan: Unlimited Strings and DADA. The former captures the best of the French lute rondeaus and chaconnes with a little of the mysteriousness of Kapsberger's Argeggiata: it is a thoroughly compelling piece. DADA is a much shorter virtuoso piece that is perfectly balanced in form and length.

If you substituted harp or guitar for the zither, would that somehow make the CD more mainstream and acceptable? Possibly, but it would be a tragedy because there seems to be some special chemistry behind this renaissance and re-invention of the zither: the perfect solution to my puzzle of wanting something fresh.

French Archetype

2009-05-10T10:37:00.000-07:00

I swear: if I could learn French, I would become French! However, I'm just like all of the 18th century Francophile wannabes, the various German states, Russia, and I guess most of the world that considered itself cultured and intelligent. Is there any other culture that can take itself more seriously, or less, at the same time?

I hold up that enigma, Erik Satie, as an example of the latter extreme. He didn't take himself too seriously, should we? Yet, he has some of the most sublimely subtle and joyful moments, but simply can't be positioned as a heavyweight. That's okay: not everything has to be serious. Here, in the U.S. he is best known for one piece, his laconic Gymnopédie: a study of solemn elegance. In fact, an interesting indication of his effectiveness is that the first Gymnopédie is probably the one French piece my daughter recognizes.

When I first started collecting CDs, back in the 1980s, I bought the first of what was to be a complete set of recordings of Satie's solo piano works, performed by Aldo Ciccolini. That recording left me cold: not only the brittle sound, but the careful performance. When I discovered a 2-CD set of Alexandre Tharaud performing solo and duo works by Satie at my last trip to the Musical Offering, I was torn between my disappointment in the past and my admiration for Alexandre Tharaud. The latter won out.

Not only is the sound superb, as with all of Tharaud's recordings, but Tharaud captures that essential ... "Frenchness" ... that makes this music come alive. This is not a comprehensive survey, including only the Prèmier Gymnopédie, and it has some surprises. Le Piège de Méduse is performed on a piano prepared with sheets of paper slid between the strings; this may be of historical interest, but I'm afraid its welcome wears out after one listening.

The first CD is a fine selection of Satie's solo pieces, and is fulfilling in a way Ciccolini's recording couldn't approach. However, the real treat comes with the second CD, the duos: this is where the "Frenchness" of Satie simply explodes. Included are duets with piano, violin, trumpet, and singers. In particular, there is a throaty singer identified only as "Juliette" who I assume must be widely recognized by French listeners, and who embodies the essence of Satie's "Frenchness."

This is a fun recording that complements a languid day with a cuppa something – tea, in my case, but perhaps a glass of wine would be more appropriate. It really makes me wish I were French.

Concept of Divine

2009-05-03T05:54:00.001-07:00

That Francesco Canova da Milano (1497-1543) was swooned over by those who heard him and jealously hoarded by popes as their personal musician says something about a coarsening of esthetics over the last half millennium. Sadly, most today would listen a minute, then turn to Guitar Hero...

da Milano's Fantasias and Recercars are perhaps the most subtle examples of perfect counterpoint, thriving in the constrained environment of the lute. There are fine competing examples on the keyboard, but none that pack so much meaning – so much passion – into such a small space.

How can contrapuntal music be passionate? I'm still pondering that, as that characterization runs counter to the intellectual rigor of the form. Undoubtedly, that is why he was called "il divino." I might compare them to the Tientos of Cabezón, but ultimately the lute itself is the more perfect voice for passion.

Hopkinson Smith's latest recording is built on a program of da Milano's music. I own every single recording of Smith, and he might legitimately be called the "il divino" of our era. However, I am continually challenged by his latest three recordings on the Renaissance lute, those covering music of Attaingnant, Dowland, and now da Milano: I have to ease myself into each of these recordings and listen to them a couple of times before I'm once again convinced by Smith's muse.

Whereas Smith's baroque lute recordings are examples of perfected, understated subtle manners, his latest three Renaissance recordings are more passionate, less disciplined, and have a sound that takes some getting used to. He uses wider dynamics, makes stronger emphasis on individual notes, and takes greater liberties in the meter. Perhaps most notable is that he seems to play more towards the rose, the center of the string, resulting in an overly round sound. I'm not saying that these are bad things, at all!, but they are a startling shift. His Renaissance lute technique isn't as "clean" sounding as O'Dette's or Christopher Wilson's (my personal favorite), but I'm not talking about bad notes, just the way they are connected.

I must admit that I hold Christopher Wilson's da Milano as my ideal, both in sound and performance. His recording La Compagna seems to have been released several times, and we should be grateful. It is not limited to da Milano, but every time I hear the opening Recercare there is no conflict to my aesthetics: perfect music, perfectly played, truly divine.

The irony is that Smith's performance might possibly be closer to the mark. I have to believe that the da Milano who made listeners swoon must have played with extraordinary passion. Performing musicians have noted that when they move out of the recording studio into the live performance the rules change, and they play to the acoustics and audience. I know there are many musicians to persist in favoring live performances for exactly that reason. Smith's recording has that same energy of a live performance. Perhaps that is what I find jarring.

Air Zither

2009-05-02T05:58:00.001-07:00

Today's blog is going to meander through several very loosely related areas. It was inspired by a comic in the newspaper today titled "Air Piano Competition": it shows a person in formal concert dress on a piano bench pretending to play a piano. See if you can follow how I get from here to zithers!

An interesting phenomenon at the company I work for – and I assume at similar high-tech companies – is a fascination with the interactive game/simulation Guitar Hero. We have engineers in our company who have never played an instrument in their life lining up at the cafeteria game room to "practice." If you have never seen Guitar Hero played, it is a simulation that involves matching notes on a screen as they roll by. The computer measures your accuracy against the complexity, yielding a numeric competitive score. The guitar isn't a guitar, but rather a guitar-shaped toy with a limited number of buttons on the neck. The "player" gets is a simulation on the screen of an "avatar" of them as a digital rock star, complete with impressive sounding sound track. It really is little more than "lip syncing," using simulated (and very simplified) instruments. If you have have no idea of what I'm talking about, take a look at this YouTube video of a "world record" player.

This really has little to do with making music, but I have watched engineers practice with the dedication of a future music virtuoso. Indeed, I suspect that those who are very good at this have innate talents that would help them become very good musicians. Like some musicians, the participants are more interested in the technical and competitive aspect than music itself.

I believe this game was derived from an even more abstract activity: air guitar, in which the participant mimics and lip syncs to recorded music. There are air guitar world championships, and I wouldn't doubt that there is more more time, energy, and even associated money with this than any of my obsessions around early music. I don't expect to see "air lute world championship" or "Lute Hero" any time soon. It is an amusing fantasy, however.

This brings me in a rather roundabout manner to the topic of practicing without a real instrument. I envy stories of concert musicians studying the score of a concerto on an airplane to prepare to be a last minute stand-in for a performance. I envy the ability to look at any score without an instrument and to "hear" it. After over 40 years, I can look at a score and get a sense of what it is, almost like hearing it muffled through the wall, but I can't hear the details.

It is rather easy to look at a score and imagine how one would play the notes on a keyboard, because the keys are laid out in direct relationship to the notes: bottom to top, low to high. Visualizing a fretted instrument, such as guitar or lute is a little less direct, but each string has that same logical relationship: the higher up the fret board, the higher the note. Actually, the same applies to the violin family, only there are no frets.

Some instruments are organized with other goals in mind. The concert zither (now, I'm where I was heading!) is one such instrument. It is essentially two instruments, with a melodic and an accompaniment portion. The melodic portion is essentially like a plucked, fretted viola with metal strings, tuned C-G-D-A (it has a redundant high A, an interesting refinement); this portion is played with a pick. The accompaniment portion consists of up to 37 strings that are plucked: they are played with three of the fingers on the right hand. Organizing this section chromatically would seem to make logical sense, but it would be very limiting: there isn't a lot of range of motion in the right hand, since the thumb is in a fixed location. If the goal is to provide harmonic support, you need to minimize hand movement and provide easy access to the harmonic fundamentals, especially the tonic, dominant, and sub-dominant. Ideally, you would like a scheme that supported easy transposition.

The accordion has a similar challenge, and it is my suspicion that the concert zither drew from the success of that instrument; it is worth noting that the concert zither is actually a relatively recent instrument, having sprung up in the mid-19th century, actually around the same time as the modern "piano accordion." The accordion has a melodic portion that is a keyboard and an accompaniment portion that is a series of buttons basically organized in a circle of fifths. Given this organization, the rows that provide support for the sub-dominant, tonic, and dominant are adjacent, regardless of key. This makes it very easy to navigate within a given key, and also to transpose.

(As an aside, I remember seeing somewhere that the accordion was the single most successful musical instrument, integrating itself with nearly every modern world culture.)

The concert zither's accompaniment strings are also organized in a circle of fifths. (The lowest section, the contra bass, is organized chromatically because there simply is no way to play those strings without moving the entire hand away from the melodic strings. If you watch YouTube videos of zither players, you will notice there is little movement of the right hand, making it look deceptively easy to play. This is ideally suited to very tonal music, but awkward for chromatic music, and pretty impractical for contrapuntal music. As with all instruments, there are always virtuosi who overcome inherent limitations, accomplishing miracles. The solo repertoire for the theorbo is a great example: it evolved as an accompaniment instrument, yet there is a small body of solo music that overcomes its reentrant tuning.

Where does the title "air zither" fit in? The truth is I'm having an instrument built for me and I have half a year before I have it. I'm trying to figure things out in advance. Of course, I want to do more than play traditional alpine ländler (which was all I ever achieved when I was young.) Why would someone who is passionate about clavichords and baroque lutes even want a zither? Partly, sentimentality: it was the first instrument I studied, an unfinished and disconnected project. Partly, the love many of us have for beautiful instruments: they are sirens calling to us with no logical reason. Finally, because it is a charming challenge. All those strings: imagine the possibilities!

Perks of the Blog

2009-04-25T06:44:00.000-07:00

There is no greater complement than a note from a reader: not only did they take time to read my ramblings, they take time to write me, passing on corrections and some really great leads. It is a great motivation to continue to post entries.

For example, in writing about Edward Martin's fine lute recording earlier this month, I lamented the scarcity of recordings of the music of the great Bohemian composer Johann Anton Losy von Losinthal. Within a few hours I received a note from a reader informing me of a recording devoted to his music by a lutenist I was unfamiliar with, Hubert Hoffmann. The challenge was to get it, as it was not available in the U.S.

This led me to the fine Viennese label EXTRAPLATTE, and also to the start of my zither adventure – which is not over! Let me take a minute to write about ordering products from Europe. I'm sure those Americans who have never done so are anxious over the details: how does payment work, what about customs duty, and how long the shipment will take? The monetary transaction itself is easy: exchange conversion is automatically taken care of by credit card company based on the current rate and a minor transaction fee is charged (only $1.64 for my purchase). It is worth noting that American purchases are relieved of sizable European VAT, often in the range of 17-18%. Furthermore, shipped music CDs present no duty complications that I'm aware. If mailed by expedited mail will often arrive in a week, or less. I would say the only detail you would want to concern yourself is whether the supplier knows how to ship overseas – I would be astonished if they didn't.

There is no doubt: if you can get a CD in the U.S., such as through Arkiv Music, or Amazon, it are will cost less, often significantly. However, there are very fine recordings that are just too specialized to be distributed here, and those are often the really interesting ones.

Hubert Hoffmann's recording, done in 2000, is one such jewel: he plays with exceptional clarity and sensitivity, and has a wonderful, very refined tone. He has produced three suites in F Major, a minor, and B-flat major. Of these, only the suite in a minor, which has a second lute in the Allemande and Courante, appears to be to a unique offering. (Both Joachim Held and Stephen Stubbs have recorded the suite in F, Rudolph Merinsky the suite in B-flat.) Hoffmann is less effusive, but more finely nuanced than Held. His tone is much sweeter and technique cleaner than Merinsky. Since this music is not widely heard, there is no "standard performance," so each recording brings pleasure to me.

If you are serious about the literature, this recording is a must-have. And, if you are going to take the trouble to order from EXTRAPLATTE, I really recommend you also get Martin Mallaun's swischen steinen. You may think you don't care for the zither, or for transcriptions of baroque lute music to the zither, but this is some of the most intense, compelling music making I've heard in a long time. As an interesting side note, it looks like Mallaun once studied with Hubert Hoffmann.

zwischen steinen

2009-04-20T21:40:00.000-07:00

Having embarked on my zither rediscovery, I was pleased to get my recordings from the small Viennese label and record store EXTRAPLATTE – delivered very quickly, indeed! This started as a quest to get a lute recording (also received, and which I'll write about soon), but I noticed a recording on zither that included music of Sylvius Leopold Weiss and couldn't pass it up. EXTRAPLATTE seems to be a specialty label, focused on performers around Austria. The notes are exclusively in German, which is both a pity and something of an inducement for me to try and revive my high school German.

The recording is titled zwischen steinen, performed on two different zithers by Martin Mallaun. The title is taken from a composition on the recording by Robert Zollitsch. This translates as "between stones," but I'm sure I'm missing the nuance of the language here.

Forget about the zither aspect for a moment: this recording is remarkable music making: full of life and nuance. A really superb program and recording: it just happens to be recorded on the zither. As such, I guess that makes it either an oddity or a specialty recording, or both. The sound quality is stunning. As is the playing.

It opens with the darkly romantic Tombeau sur la mort de Mr. Cte. de Logy, one of Weiss' most recorded works. Not only is Martin Mallaun's interpretation as rich and nuanced as any I have heard, it fits the zither he uses very well. Written for the 13-course baroque lute, the zither has some similarities in timbre that preserves the original sound. However, the zither has two aural components: a set of nylon strings that are harp like, and five metal melodic strings on a fretboard that sound like a steel guitar, and which are played with a pick. These metallic strings provide a little punch in the sound, but as played and recorded, the difference is pleasing. There are plenty of zither recordings in which the melodic strings sound very metallic: harsh and tinny.

As pleasing as the opening track is, the masterpiece of the recording is the second and title track. This nearly 12-minute modern piece is a perfect complement: also darkly romantic, modern without being either sappy or misanthropic. It is a deep and interesting piece, often a virtuoso vehicle for the instrument and performer.

What follows is a six-movement suite in f minor by Weiss. Again, the contrast with the preceding modern piece is a nice offset. The baroque lute music sounds so natural and one could imagine Weiss himself approving. It is worth noting that the concert zither first appeared a hundred years after Weiss' time and I think only recently used for such serious works. In fact, the instrument recorded is much bigger than the traditional alpine instrument, giving it extra resonance; the tuning and fundamental technic is the same.

The recoding concludes with another shorter work written for zither: Insaturabilien II by Frederik Schwenk. One again, I found this contrast between old and new to be very satisfying.

This recording was a real find: a gratifying program, fabulous sound, and remarkable performance. My only complaint is that it is over too soon.

Zither Renaissance

2009-04-18T13:38:00.001-07:00

My musical background is eclectic. There is no better indication than the very first instrument I formally studied: the concert zither. How in the world did a 15 year-old in San Diego in the 1960s come to play the concert zither, an alpine instrument of southern Germany and Austria? There was a zither player in a local hotel bar that my parents visited. They were captivated and it was at a time when I was showing interest in learning an instrument. Before I knew it, we had acquired this lounge performer's old instrument – reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke – and I had a copy of A. Darr's Method for Zither, and I was taking weekly lessons.

This really was a poor choice for a first instrument. I still have A. Darr's slim volume, which does a rather poor job of trying to introduce the beginner to music fundamentals and an even worse job at explaining a very idiosyncratic instrument. In the process I learned more than any young American teen should know of names like Anton Karas and Rudy Knabl. I quickly moved on to the study of the guitar, abandoning the zither altogether.

Funny how memories work. I have continued to have dreams about zithers for over 40 years, usually about decrepit old instruments that I can't play, but for which there is some unspoken fascination. Occasionally, I have done a little web detective work, but with little to show for it. As it turns out, this is a very regional instrument, and it is difficult for the non-German speaker to find much of interest. However, last week I had an epiphany when a reader of this blog referred me to a recording of the music by Hubert Hoffman of Johann Anton Losy von Losinthal, which brought me to a little recording studio and shop in Vienna that happened to also have a zither arrangement of S. L. Weiss' famous Tombeau sur la mort de Mr. Cte de Losy. Nostalgia dictated that I get this recording, which I am still waiting for.

However, this launched me down a new path of discovery. The fact that such a transcription even existed led me to speculate there must be more to zithers than polkas and ländlers, and I couldn't resist the challege. YouTube has some interesting samples, but mostly persuading me that the zither was folksy regional instrument with charm, but not a lot of sophistication. But, then I ran into something really extraordinary: Harald Oberlechner and Ensemble Psalteria. Oberlechner is a remarkable musician who has transformed the zither to instrument of breadth and subtly, playing everything from transcriptions of early music to his own jazz compositions. Ensemble Psalteria includes a violinist and a second zither player who doubles up on recorder. To me, their little ensemble reminds me of what Music is all about. I don't mean just classical music, or folk music, or popular music, but all of the above.

I've just started down this new path, and have a lot more to say. However, I want to leave with a YouTube clip of really classic zither music: in fact, an arrangement for two zithers, that can hardly fail to bring a smile.

How remarkable: to find an fragment of my past with such unexpected possibilities and beauty.

Accordes Nouveaux

2009-04-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

The evolution of the lute is a fascinating story. To perhaps oversimplify, it evolved from six courses to thirteen before disappearing. It seems to be human nature to want to add just one more card until the house comes tumbling down: we ultimately we reverted to the original six courses and almost identical tuning intervals with the modern guitar.

Toward the end of the sixteenth century the addition of courses accelerated to ten and then an interesting thing happened: players started experimenting with the tuning to achieve either new tonalities or textures. These were the accordes nouveaux. Since the lute used a tablature system for notation, the player didn’t have to work to “re-map” to the new tuning scheme, just to retune and possibly restring. Eventually – indeed, rather quickly – the d-minor scheme emerged, and this stayed with the lute until its demise.

As a result, there is a period in the early 17th century for which there is a body of music that is rarely, if ever, heard because it involves the fuss of not only retuning an instrument that is already a pain to tune, but to partially restring it to get the best sound. Incidentally, the retuning generally refers to the top six courses. Below these primary six courses additional courses generally were tuned diatonically.

David Ledbetter’s wonderful Harpsichord and Lute Music in 17th-Century France lists twenty-one alternate tunings between the original Renaissance vieil ton and the Baroque d minor tuning: a step-by-step progression from G-c-f-a-d’-g’ to A-d-f-a-d’-f’. If you stare at this long enough, you will assume it is trivial. It is not.

Anthony Bailes has released an interesting CD, Old Gautiers Nightinghall, of music of this transitional period using two of these transitional tunings and in the process introduces us to some names we read about, but never hear, in particular René Mesangeau and Pierre Gaultier. In addition, there are seven pieces by Thomas Mace, best known for his book Musick’s Monument. The music is good, but not great. It is mostly of academic interest. Bailes is a fine lutanist, with many fine details in his interpretation, a refined technique, and subtle ornamentation. He stops short of the kind of passion I think it would require to make this music really come alive, but it is a CD well worth having for those of us interested in the history of the lute and in the origins of the French style luthé.

So-so Scottish

2009-04-11T09:47:00.001-07:00

It is worth noting that I write about my personal impressions in this blog, and I would caution anyone from mistaking such impressions as credible reviews. A real review is (or should be) the culmination of critical thought, analysis, and comparison. It represents considerable hard work and careful writing, an effort that can’t be compressed into the single sitting of a blog. Generally, I like to write about things that delight me, which makes the job all the easier.

I’ve had a lot to delight me recently, and am busy trying to catch up. What do I do with those things that stop short of really impressing me? Either walk away, or put on my critic’s hat.

I recently read in the Lute Society of America Quarterly about a new baroque lute recording of pieces from the Balcarres Lute Book, performed by Sylvain Bergeron. This is an interesting manuscript: a collection of 17th century Scottish lute music.

Ronn McFarlane uncovered the wealth of Scottish lute music almost 20 years ago in his recording The Scottish Lute. For a while this recording was unavailable, but it is back and before you finish this blog, go out and order it: it is the definitive recording. (A second recording, Highland King, is also a treasure, and includes music from the Balcarres Lute Book.)

I have listened to Bergeron’s recording a number of times and it has failed to captivate me in the same manner as McFarlane’s recordings. This is not to say that it is bad, or that I won’t listen to it again. I find the performer’s tone to be mediocre, tending towards the harsh and “stringy,” rather than round and rich. He attempted to arrange individual pieces into small suites, which seems like a good idea, given that most are tuneful, but trivial. Unfortunately, the overall program yields a pablum of folksy pieces that generates no real energy or momentum. I suspect that this more the fault of the content itself; McFarlane selected only a small number of pieces from the Balcarres Lute Book in Highland King, and I suspect that is why.

Bergeron performs on a 13-course lute, rather than the intended 11-course lute. This may seem like an academic nit picking to those who view the former as nothing more than the latter with two additional courses, but (perhaps hard to believe) the instruments are subtly different and the choice perhaps contributed to the less refined sound. Sound is important with the lute.

The Hamlet Fantasy

2009-04-11T08:44:00.000-07:00

Emanuel Bach was noted as an improviser, especially on his beloved (or at least fabled) Silbermann clavichord. Although it seems that he made a sizable side income selling his lighter pieces, his heart seems to have been poured into his more complex fantasies, which I suspect come the closest to his personal style. These are his most remarkable compositions, leading us directly past Haydn and Mozart to Beethoven. These have been recorded in bits and pieces; Evelyn Garvey made a very nice collection on fortepiano in 1988 – another now obscure recording that again lends weight to my admonition that you want to seize the opportunity to grab an interesting recording while it presents itself.

Indeed, I count on my occasional opportunity to stop by the Musical Offering in Berkeley to browse for such curiosities. I know, one can do this on the Web, but between the random selection provided and seeing the physical package, I either bump into things I wouldn’t have, or are better tempted to take the plunge. My last visit several weeks ago yielded a couple of finds, one of which was a very elegantly packaged recording by the brothers Ghielmi, Lorenzo and Vittorio, on viola da gamba and fortepiano. Both names are known to me, although Vittorio has many more recordings in my collection: a favored gamba performer, usually heard with Luca Pianca on lute.

The title of the recording is derived from one specialty period adaptation to a solo piece. Heinrich Wilhelm von Gerstenberg provided text for a vocal line to Emanuel’s c-minor fantasy, first published in 1753. Nothing spectacular in the transformation here: the vocal line is essentially taken from the right hand part, with minor modifications. It works better than perhaps one might think, and Gianluca Buratto rich baritone creates a gorgeous sound with the copy of a Silbermann fortepiano. Sadly, the actual words were not included in the very slim notes.

The bulk of the recording is built around three gamba works with fortepiano accompaniment. Silbermann’s fortepianos are a very early incarnation, and copies really a specialty instrument, but one that lends itself very well to Emanuel Bach’s music. This is literally the kind of instrument he would have played. It is ideal as an accompaniment to the gamba, and the sound of the recorded instrument, built by Andrea Restelli, is true to the sound of other copies I have heard. (Also, very close in sound to the Cristofori instruments, essentially the first pianos, after which Silbermann patterned his instruments.)

Lorenzo has only two opportunities to demonstrate his skills as a soloist. He performs the A-Major fantasy, H 278, demonstrating complete mastery of both the fantasy style, and the available instrument. He makes a strong case for this fantasy as a vehicle for the fortepiano, and not the clavichord. I would be happy to see him tackle the rest of the fantasies. The recording ends with his performance of Les Langueres Tendres a little less convincingly: this very touching piece lends itself better to the clavichord.

This is an imaginative program, nicely balanced with substance and curiosities, and with gorgeous sound: another bet that paid off nicely.

Pleasant Surprise

2009-04-06T06:46:00.000-07:00

The repertoire for the baroque lute is dominated by only a few names, and as a result we tend to see those few names over and over. Sylvius Weiss was a marvelous composer, but I don't find his works bear the same repetition as his contemporary and acquaintance, Sebastian Bach. (It is worth noting that playing Weiss' music is enormously satisfying, as it ingeniously fits the instrument: it is no wonder every lutenist wants to be a Weiss specialist – just as every harpsichordist wants to be a Bach specialist.)

I would like to turn this discussion around, and suggest that the baroque lute repertoire is dominated by many lesser and obscure masters. I mean that in a good way: there is a wealth of jewels that are notable and not the same old stuff.

One name that immediately comes to mind is Johann Anton Losy von Losinthal, the brilliant Bohemian "amateur" who influenced Weiss, integrating the style of the French masters with a more Teutonic sensibility. At the end of the 17th century the lute ceased to be a French instrument (the French, having moved on to the harpsichord...) and Losy probably represents the important transition to the German school for the short remainder of the lute's evolution.

I'm not writing about Losy today, other than to suggest that his music probably deserves more attention. Rudolf Merinsky has recorded a few pieces on Lutenists of the Czech Baroque, which is probably impossible to get, and Joachim Held a few more on the aptly named Erfreuliche Lautenlust ("Delightful Lute-pleasure"). Rather, I want to mention a recording that focuses on two other important composers of the period: David Kellner and Johann Gottfried Conradi.

The recording is Allemande, performed by Edward Martin and distributed online through Magnatune. I have occasionally written about Magnatune over the years. There are now competing digital download services by major labels, but Magnatune has several attributes I like: very reasonable price, a choice of download format (I go for the CD image), and the fact that it represents primarily independently produced recordings that often feature very interesting "fringe" repertoire. I'll be honest: I have found many of their recordings to be by very secondary artists with competent, if not inspirational visions. Given the price, it can be a good bet, and you can always review the tracks.

Although Edward Martin is well known (and apparently liked) in the very tight lute circles, he is not a "household name." My expectations for the recording weren't particularly high, but the represented composers were of interest to me. I found myself very pleasantly surprised: the selection of pieces on the recording is a balanced representaion and pleasing, and Mr. Martin plays with a straightforward poetry that does them justice. These aren't virtuoso pieces, but the playing is solid and convincing, like the music itself. Either the instrument itself or recording technology used is adequate, but not sensational, but this is only noted when compared to another recording with especially good sound, such as Miguel Serdoura's. This is a recording I have found myself returning to frequently, drawn by the music and performance: each time a pleasant surprise.

Object Obsessions

2009-03-22T07:01:00.000-07:00

My ongoing drought of blog entries is not a sign of diminished interest in music. Rather, I'm accumulating all kinds of "projects," and am just waiting for a little breathing room. These are remarkable times – frightening times for many of us – and nothing provides me more solace than music: all aspects of it, listening, playing, reading about it.

There are some good reads, but I think Thad Carhart's The Piano Shop on the Left Bank has a triple appeal: the special place music can have for those of us for whom it is an avocation, not a career, the fascination we (I think especially men) have with the physical objects that make music, and a wonderful insight into modern French social culture, at least of the Parisian variety.

The latter has nothing to do with music, of course. As someone who can barely speak two words of French (and those badly), I have a minor obsession with the French. Many of my favorite composers and performers are French. I adore French literature (in translation) and find French film (with subtitles) to be refreshing.What an embarrassment, that I never learned the language (and such a beautiful one!) as a means of becoming more connected. Like the Northern Europeans of the Age of Enlightenment (I'm very much that – Scottish, German and Scandinavian), wishing to be more like the French. Carhart, American by parentage, and who has spent a great deal of time in France and I'm sure is very fluent in the language, has a keen insight into the nuances. The real magic of this book is centered around those.

It is also a story of reconnecting with music. His stories resonate with me. A reconnection with music is a panacea to the morose realities of aging; Carhart doesn't bore us with mushy reflections (as perhaps I am), but communicates the rejuvenation enthusiasm for music inspires. It seems that music education has been on the sharp decline in America. Will such reconnection be viable in the future? I just can't imagine a similar rejuvenation from a youth of Hip Hop... Our descendants may live in harsh world that is depleted in more than natural resources.

Ultimately, what triggers Carhart's inspiration and adventure is an object, a tool: a piano, which is a thread throughout the book. I am convinced that men, more than woman, are inspired and motivated by tools. Give a man a tool and he will be motivated by that object to build something with it, completely separate from the motivations of Art itself. The complexity, elegance, even uniqueness of the tool has some bearing on the power it has. This is why acquiring an electronic keyboard just isn't the same thing as getting a piano. Carhart eloquently conveys the special inspiration buying a piano after many years provides. The power of his book is in how effectively he shares that joy.

Anyone who is wondering if he should buy an instrument, even a big instrument like a piano, my answer would be yes: love it, let it inspire you, achieve what is within your capabilities with it.

Treasure Trove

2009-02-08T08:31:00.001-08:00

The baroque lute has enjoyed a revival since about the mid-1970s, but it remains a specialized instrument with a limited market. This is a pity, as I think it is representative of some of the finest musicianship I have witnessed; there is no doubt: I'd take my Bach on lute, if I could!

So, you might wonder, where does that leave my beloved clavichord? Sigh! I feel like a man with two mistresses, neither of which gets the attention they deserve. However, the lute is the ravishingly beautiful blond with the golden voice–the clavichord is the brunette with sophistication, wit and a complex mind. I keep them in separate rooms, each sure that they aren't loved as much as they deserve. They are right.

Whereas there are endless keyboard methods, and a teacher in every town, learning to play the lute–especially the baroque lute!–is an exercise in resourcefulness. Until now there has been no adequate method for the baroque lute. My friend, Miguel Serdoura, has changed that. Indeed, he has created something much more than a method: it is a treasure trove of advice, instruction, music, and every manner of resource pertaining to the the baroque lute.

Miguel has had a good year: he released his first recording, which I find I love more with each listening, and his method, which fills an large void. I must admit: I was beginning to despair, wandering from piece to piece on my lute, playing nothing well. The method, which is over 350 pages, is filled with attainable treasures that provide just the right amount of challenge and satisfaction. These were clearly chosen carefully and demonstrate a remarkable command of obscure literature, most of which exists in barely decipherable manuscripts. My only complaint is that this is a large format and heavy soft bound book that doesn't lend itself to to laying flat on the music stand. I'm tempted to cut it apart and put it into a binder.

Miguel goes beyond a mere method: this is the first really comprehensive resource of the baroque lute. It includes many items that are difficult to find elsewhere:

A practical list of ornaments and their use.
A brief biography of almost all the important composers for the baroque lute, including some that I have not run into: Johann Friedrich Daube, Johann Gumprecht, Rudolf Straube and Johann Georg Weichenberger. His write-ups for each are models of economy and preciseness.
Descriptions of the various compositional forms seen in lute music. Each of these, of course, can be found in Grove, but I find his descriptions carefully thought out and very practical.
A comprehensive bibliography that is organized by: Teaching and Methods, Lute-Building, Strings, Tunings and temperaments, French music for the Baroque Lute, and German Music for the Baroque Lute (including Austria and Bohemia)
A list of important libraries with important lute manuscripts that he draws upon
A very comprehensive discography. I have many of these recordings, but there are some I've been unaware of and are worth hunting down.

The method is published by Ut Orpheus Edizioni; there are both English and French editions. The quality of the editing itself is excellent, and the tablature is attractive and very readable. If you are like me, dabbling and struggling with the baroque lute, this is for you. If you are wondering if you want to go down the path of the baroque lute, this is especially for you! I might add that this method is appropriate for both the 11-course and 13-course lute: almost all of the music in it is for the 11-course and the few 13-course pieces are easily adapted. (I still think many rush into the decision to get a 13-course instrument, thinking that they need those two extra notes.)

This is now available in the U.S. through Los Angeles Classical Guitars. I have ordered from them before: they are very quick. Incidentally, this is where I got the facsimile of Barbe Manuscript, Pièces de Luth. That now costs $180, but it is both beautiful and very readable. However, I made the mistake of using this as my primary source for teaching myself the baroque lute. The pieces are some of my favorites, but they were taking me down the path of discouragement. Much better to start with Miguel's masterpiece and work up to these!

Another Romance

2009-01-31T06:53:00.001-08:00

I guess I'm heartened by the fact that I'm not the only person with an obsession over Glenn Gould. The number of books about him, from nearly every aspect, underscores this fascination we have. I had read so many that I stopped, convinced that I had read quite enough: what possibly could be left to uncover?

Obviously, this fascination isn't just over Gould's music making. I think you could detest his playing, yet agree that he was one of those remarkable geniuses, a true idiot savant, who is inherently interesting: possibly because he was past the level most of us could identify with.

"Identify with?" Sure: I could imagine aspiring to be like an Artur Schnabel, or a Murray Perhia–just not as good. (Okay, not nearly as good...) The thought of being like Gould is as remote as being like Mozart. What makes these people tick?

A friend convinced me to get one of the latest spate of Gould books, A Romance on Three Legs, by Katie Hafner, and I would have to say that this gave me the best insight into Gould of any I have read. It does so by neither critiquing, nor psychoanalyzing him – which has been done ad nauseam – but simply by examing the physical object behind Gould's art: his piano.

Although she shies away from the musical commentary, the author really understands what is behind the appeal:

Gould's playing evoked a visceral response from people whohad never thought to stop and really listen to classical music. There was something about the silence between and behind each note, the richness of the different voices, that captured the imagination and caused listeners to feel that their lives had been deepened and enhanced.

That captures it perfectly: I wish I had written it! Even when I am annoyed by his antics, I am mesmerized.

The author weaves in other tales in this book, primarily a history of the Steinway Piano Company and the life of Verne Edquist, one of the many tuner/technicians Gould worked with, but perhaps the most significant, because he became the principle technician for CD 318, the piano love of Gould's life. She helps us understand just how odd this piano became under Gould's direction. For those of us harboring futile fantasies of sounding just a little like Gould, it's worth noting that we don't have one of the World's best technicians hovering next to us, ready to not only tweak the tuning, but the actual voicing of individual notes.

One surprise was just how synthetic a Gould recording was: compiled from take, after take, after take. I knew that Gould spliced frequently, but I had no idea that recordings were constructed sometimes note by note. That doesn't change my appreciation, but I do find it just a bit outrageous: Gould's recordings simply can't be compared.

A real eye opener was how wedded major performers are to individual instruments. I had naively thought that a well tuned and maintained piano was, well, a well tuned and maintained piano. The differences aren't just about their sound, but about their feel, their touch. Gould simply carried that to the extreme. (If harpsichordists and fortepianists were that finicky, they would be out of business altogether!)

Gould's obsession with CD 319 (and, of course, his beloved Chickering, which may actually be the more important story) is a great tale. Gould's relationship with instruments was every bit as complicated as his relationships with people. Included in this tale is his late defection to Yamaha, not by choice, but out of frustration and necessity. Gould died soon after; I doubt the Yamaha connection would have persisted. Had Gould survived another decade, I could have seen him become the grand master of synthesized music, abandoning the piano altogether.

This book isn't just about Gould: it is about relationships with musical instruments. It's a great read, will be re-read, and was an inspiration to re-read another great book that is tied into that magical relationship, The Piano Shop on the Left Bank.

More Müthel

2009-01-12T10:11:00.001-08:00

One of my favorite off-the-beaten-track composers is Johann Gottfried Müthel (1728-1788). I'm a bit surprised I haven't written more about him. He was Sebastian Bach's last student, and was reported to be present at Sebastian's deathbed. He was close with Sebastian's other students and became a lifetime friend with Emanuel Bach. Müthel was apparently the first to use the term fortepiano, which is not to say that the fortepiano was his favored instrument: he apparently favored the clavichord, and his solo music seems particularly suited to it.

Charles Burney took note:

...the compositions of Müthel; which are so full of novelty, taste, grace, and contrivance, that I should not hesitate to rank them among the greatest productions of the present age... The style of this composer more resembles that of Emanuel Bach, than any other.

I find the comparison with Emanuel Bach curious: I think it would be difficult to confuse their solo keyboard styles. However, Müthel is very representative of the Empfindsamer Stil: definitely post-Baroque and pre-Classical.

Müthel had a strongly independent streak in him. His œuvre is very limited, apparently because his ideal was to not write the same piece twice. That obviously sets him apart from Emanuel Bach! He was said to perform only in the Winter, when the snow-filled streets deadened the sound of carriages. Indeed, I have found each of his works to be a treasure.

My favorite recording is of Nicole Hostettler and Pierre Goy playing his complete solo and duet keyboard works on matching clavichords (Cantando 2016); sadly, this brilliant recording is impossible to find. Menno van Delft recorded the solo pieces on an original Hass clavichord (Audio CD - 2005); sadly, this 2-CD set is not easily found. A third recording is on the modern piano, performed by Zane Stradyna: she plays with a lyric touch and just the right amount of passion; this recording (Christophorus 77247) is generally available, and recommended.

There is another work that been recorded multiple times, and rightly so: his Sonata à Flauto traverso e Basso. I first heard this on Klänge der Nacht (Nocturnal Sounds): Miklós Spányi, clavichord, Benedek Csalog, baroque flute; back in 2005 I wrote:

This has been a favorite of mine for several years. Recorded in a castle in the dead of the night on a historic clavichord, this features music of Müthel and Kirnberger. Beautiful music by two of Bach's students with luscious playing by Csalog. This recording works best with headphones: the clavichord is there, doing exactly what it should, providing continuo, without overwhelming the flute. But is it a subtle accompaniment.

Sadly, this recording is no longer readily available. The piece has also been recorded by Wilbert Hazelzet on a recording titled "Music by Bach's students," accompanied by Jacques Ogg and Jaap Ter Linden; sadly, this recording doesn't seem to be in circulation! Fortunately, this brings us to the recording I just bumped into: Johann Gottfried Müthel, Concertos and Chamber Music (MDG 209 0452-2), performed by Musica Alta Ripa.

I read about this in the latest issue of FanFare. Michael Carter wrote,

This is a set that might require additional hearings to appreciate Müthel’s talent, but once it grabs your ears, it will hold your attention and make you wonder why it took so long for us to rediscover another of the gifted students of Sebastian Bach.

The recording was distributed in 1994, and therefore is a bit "long in the tooth." In other words, you want to buy it before it, too, disappears. It is well worth the modest investment. In addition to three delightful concertos, for harpsichord, 2 bassoons, and 2 bassoons and harpsichord (2nd disk), this set includes the flute sonata, a couple of lesser chamber works, one of the duets, performed on two harpsichords, and one of the keyboard sonatas, performed on harpsichord.

There is no doubt that the keyboard works lend themselves better to the clavichord, but they are nicely performed on the harpsichord, giving them a slightly different dimension.

This recording does a nice job of introducing the listener to the music of Müthel: carefully selected, nicely performed with superb sound. If you have developed a taste for the "sensitive style," you can't pass this up.

Relishing the Differences

2009-01-10T07:18:00.000-08:00

The modern mind seems to favor homogeneity: we want things to be as even, as symmetrical, as perfect as possible. Our favored temperament has become equal: we make all intervals symmetrically good/bad. The design and construction of our musical instruments favors consistency over character. Musical technique has evolved in a similar manner. An evolution in keyboard fingering technique began to accelerate during the lifetime of Sebastian Bach, arriving at today's standard, in which all fingers are trained to function as identically as possible.

It is worth noting the ongoing problems many musicians have with repetitive stress injuries. This is the culmination of perhaps unreasonable demands in general, but especially in expecting their pinkys to perform as strong as their ring fingers. (I have to be honest: I have personally never come close to achieving such equality between fingers, and advancing age makes it unlikely, ever.)

Up through the Renaissance inequality was accepted, worked around, even savored. Over the years there have been historical revivalists who have tried to master the secrets of early keyboard fingering. There are many references to it, but relatively few resources that will help the exploration. Until recently I was unaware that one comprehensive resource was now available at a price you can't pass up: $12.15. It is an eBook by Claudio Di Veroli: Baroque Keyboard Fingerings: a Method, available through a download service I was previously unaware of, Lulu.

This 69-page book is delivered as a PDF file. It is full of examples, and has a sensible organization, based on the classes of fingering problems: left hand diatonic scales, right hand diatonic scales, etc. It is worth noting that this book is specifically focused on the baroque period, the author observes that many of these rules simply don't work for later composers, such as Domenico Scarlatti. As such, many of the rules fall into that transition period between the Renaissance and Modern periods. The author is refreshingly pragmatic, making the following advice:

Back to Baroque authors, if we find it difficult to play some of their most advanced works with the technique of their times, it is good to mind that the whole purpose of using ancient instruments and techniques is to achieve a correct and stylish interpretation, i.e. one that, back in time, the authors would find consistent with their music. Accordingly, once we have mastered early playing techniques, if we find it difficult to play some early works with the desired articulation and speed, maybe it is not the early techniques that need revision but our musical interpretation instead.

Does this mean that we need to learn different approaches to fingering, based on the period played? Only if you are a fanatic. This insightful book can help you think rationally and realistically about the different fingering problems, and relieve you from the perceived necessity of achieving perfect legato through the equal application of all fingers. This book is a great resource at a price that makes it impossible to ignore.

For those who think they have to have a "paper book", I suggest they simply print it out on their home printer, punch holes in it and put it into a three-ring binder: it will still cost less than a formally printed book and be much more usable. The eBook format is wonderful: it eliminates waste, is inexpensive, and makes it very easy to update.

Repeated Delights

2008-12-26T09:04:00.000-08:00

A special treat arrived just before Christmas: Miguel Serdoura's first recording on the Brilliant Classics label: Les Baricades Mistérieuses. Important truth-in-disclosure: I have a vested interest in this recording, having contributed to a fund to help produce it. I'm proud of my patronage. It is expensive to get quality engineering for a recording and without a professional master, getting a credible label with distributors is almost impossible. Becoming a specialist in the baroque lute is not a path to fortune, and how does one establish their name without a recording?

I may be prejudiced because of my association, but I think this is both a beautiful and significant recording. Miguel has the most gorgeous sound of any lutenist I have heard, live or on recording. He is particularly fussy about sound, and can drive you to distraction with his incessant tuning, but in the end it is worth it. That sound is captured on this CD; it is neither too live or too dead. The instrument used is a 13-course baroque lute by Cezar Mateus. One could quibble over the use of a large German instrument for (mostly) French music, but this instrument has such a refined sound that I would never know.

The program is built around chaconnes, passacaglias, rondos, and the ever-popular Folies d'Espagne: these are all pieces that are built around repetition. Indeed, some argue over the differences between them: they have entirely too much time on their hands to fuss over such esoteric minutia. It opens with David Kellner's Chaconne in A major (a rather unusual key for the lute), an enormous piece that is technically very demanding, particularly at the end. You would never know it was a challenge. In fact, the entire program is quite challenging; Miguel's style is so simple, lyric, and understated, so that there is no sense of underlying virtuosity. This may put those off, who judge a performance by how dazzling it is.

At 11'28, the Kellner Chaconne is a big piece, but not as big as Miguel's 11'46 version of Vieux Gaultier's La Cascade, piece that is generally pieced together from the multitude of sources, as it was a popular hit in its day. It almost wears out its welcome in this extended version, but it is one of those pieces of surpassing beauty that one wishes wouldn't end.

Miguel plays Françis Couperin's ever-popular Les Baricades Mistérieuses. Apparently, no arrangement is necessary: a 13-course lute has all of the notes one needs, and the piece falls naturally onto the instrument's compass. I think this is evidence of the authenticity of the style luthe adopted by the harpsichordists. This piece is over-played by amateurs and professionals alike, and it seems that it gets faster and faster over time, so the only apparent mystery is the question of what exactly is so mysterious! Blandin Verlet plays it in 2'42, Blandine Rannou at 2'25. So, Miguel's more sensible performance at 6'39 may come as a shock. I find his tempo much more convincing, but it is sure to annoy those who view it as a perpetuum mobile, rather than as a rondo.
In addition to his first recording, he has published the first comprehensive baroque lute method through Ut Orpheus. This is a monumental achievement: Miguel Serdoura is becoming an important voice in the baroque lute world. I wish him the best of luck–and brisk sales for his CD!

On a Tangent

2008-12-22T13:49:00.001-08:00

I'm sure there are some who will roll their eyes at the announcement of yet another addition to Miklós Spányi's seemingly never ending series for the solo keyboard pieces of Emanuel Bach: Volume 18. Indeed, this brings us only to a portion of the works of 1766; he lived until 1788, so we have over 22 years more to cover!

According to the notes, 1766 was a very prolific year. Emanuel was well established and making a comfortable supplemental income selling pieces aimed at players such as myself: very good music within our limited means. Not necessarily great music, but music that brings pleasure–especially on repeated listenings, which is almost always the case with Emanuel's music. I fear that much of the music on this recording will fail to inspire anyone other than the already devoted. With one exception: the Fantasia in G Minor, Wq. 117/13, which falls into the category of important: the fantasias really represent Emanuel Bach at his best and are harbingers of later romantic greatness.

Perhaps to partially compensate for the less-than profound program, Miklós chose to perform on the tangent piano; this choice was inspired. I believe Miklós has only one other recording with solo music performed on the tangent piano: the second CD of the Eckard complete works, otherwise, he has used it as an ensemble instrument. The tangent piano is absolutely marvelous as a solo instrument: on this recording it demonstrates the best of the clavichord, harpsichord, and fortepiano. Furthermore, the tangent piano proves to be ideal for the Fantasia.

The playing is, as always, technically masterful. I think that Miklós really is one of the great keyboard virtuosos of today, but I can't recall a time when he has flaunted it: technical mastery always serves his concept of the music, perhaps to a fault. Sometimes I wish he was just a bit more of a show-off, especially when the music gets pedestrian. He is at his best with important and weighty works, but doesn't have the same ability to dash off minor works that Linda Nicholson or Marcia Hadjimarkos do, for example. No matter what, they are always well thought out with his own uniqe nuance: he is the master of both ornamentation and variation for this genre.

It is interesting to note that the actual recording for this CD was done over four years ago. In approaching this gargantuan project, apparently much of it is "already in the can." I fear that readers have many more years of such reports from me.

Convinced!

2008-12-01T05:39:00.001-08:00

As fundamentally an analytical person, I like to understand why things are they way they are. I struggle with subjective assessments, especially my own. I am still feeling guilt over my lack of excitement over Egarr's Purcell: as I stated, there is nothing wrong with it, yet it fails to convince.

No such problem with Murray Perahia's latest Bach. I know, I'm supposed to prefer my Bach on clavichord, harpsichord, and organ, and I really do. Except when it is played better on another instrument. I spent many years successfully ignoring Perahia, who was just another mainstream piano virtuoso to me. The story I have heard is that he took up the harpsichord while recovering from the kind of repetitive stress injury pianists are prone to. This seems to not only have refined his touch, but put him in better touch with Bach. Regardless of how, a miracle occurred and he began recording Bach with all the life and superb sound generation of Gould, but without the mad manners. Of my too many recordings of the Goldberg Variations, Perahia's is the one I listen to for pure pleasure. His recordings of the English Suites, likewise, are my favorite: there is clarity, freshness, energy, ... all of the things one would want in a superlative performance. (I have always wonder what he would sound like on the harpsichord, and another story I have heard is that he politely refuses on the basis that it is not his instrument.)

Of course, the issue of Bach on the piano inevitably raises passions. The HIP (historically informed performance) fanatics froth at the mouth at the suggestion that the piano could be ever be appropriate, let alone appreciated. Those of the 19th Century Russian school sneer at the quaint and archaic resources of what they consider to be a deficient instrument that only hobbles the true intent of Bach. (Just as in political discussions these days, it gets nasty pretty quickly.)

It is futile to play favorites, but the Partitas have a special position for me: overall, more satisfying than either the English Suites or French Suites. Fernando Valenti wrote,

The six Partitas represent Bach's very last words in the language of the suite. Accordingly, some scholars contend that they embody the composer's final attempt to emancipate the suite from strictures and stereotypes without inflicting undue violence on traditions inherited from such spiritual ancestors as Buxtehude, Froberger, and Kuhnau.

I find that I can easily listen to all six, back-to-back, without fatigue. Some years back I extrapolated that enthusiasm to producing a complete two-concert cycle by an American performer who had convinced me he was in the process of preparing a complete recording. It was a bad sign when the local critic walked out after 20 minutes–and it went downhill from there! (At the end of the cycle one fool cheered like there was no tomorrow, resulting in one encore that was simply divine.) I've always hoped that this concert didn't ruin the Partitas for others. It didn't for me.

The Partitas work on different instruments very nicely. My introduction was through Glenn Gould's recording. At the time, I thought it was perfection; today, I find it painful to listen to: interspersed with moments of pure beauty, as only Gould could achieve, are impossible tempi and what I can only describe as Gould's also characteristic "stunts" that perhaps make dramatic sense, but not musical. It is interesting to note that the Gould recordings spanned a period of 1957 through 1963; I find those of 1959 (Nos. 1 & 2) to be the most reasonable. Christophe Rousset recorded them in 1993, possibly the last recording of his that I really like: elegant and refined on the wonderfully smooth sounding 1751 Hemsch harpsichord. Much less successful is Kenneth Weiss's 1999 recording: it has a cold austerity that I simply can't warm up to. Last, and not least, is Richard Troeger's 1999 recording on clavichord: the instrument itself is rather metallic sounding and Troeger pushes the tempi, but it is overall an energetic and satisfying performance. All three "textures" work, piano, harpsichord and clavichord.

Getting back to Perahia: this first of the eventually two CDs begins with No. 2, continuing on through Nos. 3 and 4 – notable only in that No. 1 is such a pleaser, and would seem like the obvious starting point. On the other hand, No. 2 demonstrates a deeper Bach with an opening Sinfonia full of pathos. Whereas Gould studiously observes the exact note values, Perahia gives them just the right amount French notes inégales. There are no stunts, no gimmics in this recording. Tempi are moderate and well thought out. It seems that Perahia's articulation is a little less dry than on his recording of the English Suites, giving in to the nature of the modern piano.

I have exposed myself as a closet piano lover, I fear. I would have preferred to hear Perahia's performance on a fine clavichord, but ultimately, the performance itself wins out. I can't wait for the second volume.

Unconvinced

2008-11-23T09:29:00.001-08:00

What does one do with a recording that has nothing overtly wrong with it, but which leaves one unconvinced? I generally dismiss critiques like, "I just hated this recording..." Hated it because???

Richard Egarr's recording of Purcell keyboard works puts me into a quandary: this is delightful music that is under-performed, apparently because it doesn't pass some threshold for musical importance. (For many years Bach's toccatas suffered this blight, but then I think performers became desperate for new Bach repertoire!)

True, these are brief works: Purcell's entire first suite in G is barely four minutes long. Nor does it present any great technical challenges, yet it is a small beauty. Even more accessible are Purcell's grounds, the best known of which is A New Ground, from the Ode to Saint Cecilia. Sophie Yates demonstrated some years ago that a compendium of these jewels could work well, so I eagerly bought Egarr's even more comprehensive CD, expecting that this big name artist with the benefits of the latest sound engineering would yield a new favorite.

The sound is good, although the particular instrument doesn't distinguish itself, the performance is sound, yet the performer doesn't distinguish himself. My fear is that if one based his opinion of the music based on this recording, that he would dismiss it as negligable trifles. Did Egarr try too hard, or not hard enough? I can't say. However, multiple listenings have left me unconvinced by the performance, not the music: I just can't say why!

The Most Beautiful Music

2008-11-16T10:01:00.000-08:00

The most beautiful music is whatever one hears after the Carter quartets...

What a horrible thing to say! Yet, are we required to like everything we are presented? I bought the Naxos recording of the Carter String Quartets Nos. 1 & 5 after reading an enthusiastic review. I love string quartets. I want to love modern music. I've known of Elliott Carter since my conservatory days, but couldn't recall a single work of his that I was familiar with: this seemed like a real opportunity, especially since the First was composed just before I was born and the Fifth as recently as 1995.

Sadly, Carter obviously is not to my liking. I really can't discern any progress in his musical language across 44 years. Perhaps this is music to feed one's intellect. If so, it is a tortured intellect in a World of little beauty. The music is detailed, complex, and seemingly technically challenging. The Pacifica Quartet plays with obvious passion and the sound they create is often stunning. I would love to hear them play something with beauty in it.

I have tried four times to find something in the Carter Quartets I can connect with. There are fleeting moments of beauty, but they are quickly lost in the swirl of nervous notes. Should I call this music ugly? Perhaps a judgment that is harsh, but I have found whatever follows immediately begins to repair the frazzled nerves. Do I have to like such music? No: no more so than Hip Hop or Country Western.

Most recently I followed the Carter with another much more successful recent acquisition: Charles Koechlin's Quartets Nos. 1 and 2. Koechlin was completely unknown to me until I read a review of this recording. What attracted me was a comparison to the chamber works of Ravel and the fact that he was a student of Fauré. I love Ravel's very limited chamber works, wishing that there were more. This lead did not disappoint me. Both quartets are very pleasing and beautifully performed. I would have to say they capture the essence of impressionistic music: there doesn't seem to be a rigorous structure, beautiful wisps of melody and harmony float around, evoking a mood or feelings, not thoughts. Perhaps someone who appreciates the Carter quartets would hate these: they seem near opposites in method and intent.

Do we have to embrace all new music thrown at us out of fear of being labeled anti-progressives? I have tried for years to appreciate Schoenberg, Berg, and the other serialists and failed. I know I am not alone. I would love to understand what I am missing: perhaps it will come as a big ephiphany.

The Beethoven Project, Bagatelles

2008-11-07T09:34:00.001-08:00

Probably the two most recognizable pieces in the classical piano repertoire are Mozart's Sonata in C and Beethoven's Für Elise. Endlessly showing up on student recitals, I tend to shudder when I hear them played, because they are so over-played, often poorly.

Pity: both really are great pieces. Each is tricky in its own right. The Mozart sonata is more difficult technically than generally thought; playing the notes and playing the music can be two different things... Für Elise presents a different challenge: the notes aren't too difficult, but getting the repetition of the theme–in fact the whole piece–to make dramatic sense requires artistry.

There's a nice word: artistry! It is a pleasure when a true artist tackles the simple things we amateurs struggle with, revealing the genius behind them.

One of the very first clavichord recordings I acquired was a very obscure one of Linda Nicholson performing Emanuel Bach's Short and Easy Pieces on an original Hass clavichord. They truly are short and easy, but each is a gem, and Nicholson did us a service by reminding us of that. It remains a favorite recording, and actually something of an inspiration. I have kept my eyes open for other solo recordings by Nicholson, literally for years.

I read a glowing review if Nicholson's new CD of Beethoven Bagatelles in the October Fanfare. (Yes, I'm reading both Fanfare and Gramophone in my search for new recordings...) In fact, reviewer Lynn René Bayley ended with 'Might I be permitted one more "Wow"? This woman is a genius.'

I would have to second that opinion. Nicholson performs on her own fortepiano by Johann Fritz, 1815. This instrument isn't as heavy as the Broadwoods that seemed to have served as Beethoven's final piano. As such, it is a little lighter and clearer. In fact, there is a direct comparison available: Melvyn Tan performed many of the Bagatelles on the restored "Beethoven Piano," a Broadwood. I've never been able to really get into that recording and I'm not sure why. He is somehow very competent, but just missing something.

Sadly, the sound on Nicholson's recording is less than optimal. It sounds like it was miked too closely and a smallish room. It's not a bad sound, but it is lacking in sparkle. I don't have an emotional connection to the instrument, the way I do on Brautigam's recordings. In fact, I think I like the sound of Tan's Broadwood more. However, there is no getting over the magical music making of Nicholson: this is a recording I can't put down. And, yes, she plays Für Elise perfectly.

The Beethoven Project, Part I

2008-11-02T12:00:00.001-08:00

As I wrote yesterday, I'm working at expanding my listening and appreciation horizons. I have a couple of "projects" in the works: the organ literature, string chamber works, and one I've been itching to start on for a long time: the piano works of Ludwig van Beethoven.

Beethoven's piano compositions are by no means strangers to me, but I haven't focused on them in a systematic way. The only complete collection of his sonatas I have are the Schnabel recordings; I try to love these, but the limitations of the recording technology of the time (1932-1935) results in rather flat sounding recordings in which the dynamics and nuance are lost. I have tried to love these early recordings, but have not been successful.

The search for a second complete set has posed a classic collector conundrum: I don't want to own too many versions of the same work, and so the selection needs to be the "right" one. I want exceptional sound, and this would suggest recent recording. I also wanted a strong and authoritive interpretation with depth and vision, but which wasn't randomly eccentric.

Since the field is dominated by "classics" recorded by the great performers of the mid-20th century: Arrau, Brendel, Richter, Serkin, etc., and some relative "newcomers," such as Lill, O'Conor, and Perahia; it appears that latest of these was recorded in the early/mid 90s. It appears that András Schiff may be the "big name" performer with the most recent recording project of the sonatas, and he is an artist that I generally very much admire. I may yet invest in his recordings. However, in my search, I kept running into references of Ronald Brautigam's recordings on copies of original instruments. Reviews were generally very favorable and I was intrigued at the use of instrument.

I don't hate the modern piano, really! In fact, a lesser fortepiano has a tendency of just sounding like a poor modern piano. However, a great fortepiano has a character that gets washed out in the sound homoginization of the modern piano. The Brautigam series, which recently released volume 6, uses instruments built by Paul McNulty. The first five volumes use a copy of a c. 1802 instrument by Walther & Sohn, the most recent recording uses a copy of a c. 1819 instrument by Graf: more fitting for the later sonatas.

I'm head over heals in love with the sound of the Walther on these recordings! The recordings would be worth their cost if only for the sound! The bass has a "nuttiness" and the soprano a clear sweetness that no modern piano can capture. As a result, the sound is more "orchestral." The recording quality itself only helps: the CDs are hybrid SACD, using the latest technologies. I'm hearing only two channels, and the sound is magic: clear with the perfect presence. I can only imagine what the full SACD sound is like.

The performing artist carries this recording set to even greater heights. Dutch pianist Ronald Brautigam has the passion, the firey vision one would want for Beethoven. The first volume opens not with the earliest sonatas, but with nos. 8-11. No. 8, Pathétique, one of the best known, is a great starting point to introduce the artist, and is an ideal vehicle for the instrument. I think we tend to congratulate ourselves for having evolved the piano to a point that better suited what we suppose were the unrealized intentions of Beethoven. While the Walther might not meet the needs for a large modern hall with thousands of listeners, it has the strength, presence, and dynamics for the smaller environments what Beethoven would have played in himself.

I compared Brautigam's recording with the 1963 recording by Rudof Serkin. Both are inspired performances, more alike, than not. Brautigam's recording is more clear and resonant and has greater dynamics. He plays with perhaps a little more energy and abandon. I wouldn't think of this as a "fortepiano version" at all. I would like to try a blind test with someone who was unaware of the instrument, just to see what they thought.

Meanwhile, Brautigam has another distinction: an uncanny resemblence to the composer. Perhaps he is playing it up a bit; if so, he is successful. Look especially at the nose and the intense eyes.

Royer Redux

2008-11-01T05:44:00.001-07:00

I have been silent for months: a testament both busyness and burnout. This doesn't mean that I haven't been listening to new recordings, or at least contemplating practicing myself by any means. In fact, once I bought into SlimDevices for streaming my collection around the house, I've stopped worrying about my collection: I am busier than ever picking new recordings, and they are piling up, just waiting for commentary.

I've actually been expending effort looking for music that is out of the niche I have cut: mostly early keyboard and lute. In fact, I just checked, and this "niche" represents almost exactly two-thirds of my collection. I am determined to expand my horizons.

However, rumors of Christophe Rousset's new Royer recording were impossible to ignore. He released a recording of Royer 15 years ago: that recording was one of the first harpsichord recordings I added to my collection, which probably numbered in the 10s—in its entirety. It has remained a favorite ever since, both because of the music and because of the recording. For the most part, I have liked Rousset's earliest recordings; I have harbored a suspicion that that the big label he signed with, Decca, was guilty of increasingly over-managing the artist to create a "safe" superstar. At least that would explain how someone who demonstrated such fire and promise in his Royer recording went on to make such dull showings as with his Golberg Variations (technically excellent, inoffensive, at best) or Scarlatti (exact, same comments...).

On the other hand, did I really need a second recording of the same material, by the same artist, especially given my commitment to expand my musical horizons? Was this going to be like the "old" versus "new" recording of the Goldbergs by Gould? Of course I would have to explore this!

Royer was one of the very late composers for the harpsichord. His is music specific to the harpsichord: its textures, idiosyncrasies, and potential. It is clever, tuneful, and has great drama. I get chills every time I listen to Le Vertigo. I have watched Blandine Rannou perform La Marche des Scythes, and it is every bit a visual showpiece as it is a musical tour de force. I fail to understand why we haven't heard more performers take on Royer: this is music that really sells the harpsichord.

The first thing I noticed with the newer recording is the crisp sound. It was recorded on the Goujon-Swanen harpsichord that once masqueraded as a Ruckers; in spite of this white lie, this is one of the great surviving 18th century harpsichords (1749-1784). Rousset's earlier recording with on the 1751 Hemsch, similar in many ways, and also one of the great surviving instruments. In fact, both are really magnificent sounds, but the newer recording benefits from better recording conditions and technology: lively, clear, and very "honest" sounding. The earlier recording sounds more processed to me, although with a natural ambiance (I see that the earlier recording was made in the Church of Saint-Hippolyte, whereas the newer was done in the Musée de la musique).

What about the performance? Looking at the track times, it is clear that Rousset largely maintained his original concepts for tempo. For example, Le Vertigo was 5'08 in the original recording, 5'03 in the newer. Le Marche des Scythes was 6'15, versus the newer 6'12! The good news is that the fire is still there. The sound is a little better. And, it seems to me that the newer recording has new nuance that I like. It is a great recording, as was the original. If you have one, I don't think you need the other. However, it is great to see the "old" Rousset back in form. This makes me wonder if I need to give his recordings of the French and English Suites a listen. I need more recordings of those works like I need a hole in the head. Besides which, I'm expanding my horizons. Right?

Next: the Beethoven Project.

Theorbo Treats

2008-08-02T08:12:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I wrote about the theorbo. One may laugh at the suggestion that such a category could even have significance, but I see that I have seven solo recordings, several ensemble recordings in which the theorbo is prominent, and maybe another dozen in which the theorbo is part of the continuo. I know that many of us who have dabbled in the lute have harbored a fantasy of owning a theorbo. They are not cheap, and they are, well, BIG for those of us with small arms and hands. Definitely no more than a fantasy...

I can hardly think of a more awkward instrument for these times: large and fragile, how do performers transport their instruments in this post-9/11 world, given both security restrictions and high travel costs. Actually, there is a fascinating web site by Linda Sayce that provides insight into every aspect of the theorbo, including information about her folding theorbo with a telescoping case; this specialty instrument still requires a seat of its own for transport.

One recording of interest for the collector is by Christopher Wilke, playing the music of of Charles Hurel. Hurel's music is very good, with some especially fine moments, but stops short of de Visée. It is music worthy of an occasional listen and makes nice use of the sonority of the theorbo. The same can be said of Wilke, who is very competent, but stops short of the comfortable fluidity of Hopkinson Smith or Pascal Monteilhet; he has done us a service of uncovering Hurel's music.

For those interested in seeing "how its done", I'd like to refer them to a very nice performance by Richard Stone on YouTube:

In fact, there are now many worthy videos of theorbos on YouTube.

As we all become more travel-restricted, both recordings and the Internet will only gain in importance for the more arcane arts. Glenn Gould was considered a madman by many when he predicted the end of the concert hall many years ago, focusing his efforts exclusively on recording and video. He would have been very comfortable in today's digital world.

Essential Organ

2008-07-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

I know that I'm not alone in my ambivalence over the pipe organ: I have plenty of friends with musical sophistication who have confessed the same. Why have we overlooked what Mozart referred to as "The King of Instruments" for so long? I have a few theories.

Many of us were subjected to it in church when we were small, impatient, squirming young things. It represents a sound one associates with not wanting to sit quietly and meditatively.
We simply don't understand the instrument itself, musically or mechanically. I find that the better I understand an instrument, the more appreciative I am to its nuances. Organs are easily the most complex of all musical instruments, with an overwhelming selection of sounds and effects. Indeed, I have yet to find a really good written overview of the organ; the short overviews simply can't address the complexity, whereas the more comprehensive ones are simply too academic.
A shortage of widely-recognized performers. It is over 30 years since the death of E. Power Biggs, the only "big name" I can really dredge up. I'm not aware of anyone who has established such a brand since, although I know Anthony Newman would like to think he has. The brand of "big name" performers is vital: it is the safety net one seeks when searching for recordings, at least in the beginning. There are, of course, a myriad of top-notch performers (some better than the "big names") that the initiated will eventually discover, but what is more awkward than searching for a recording for music one doesn't know well, on an instrument one doesn't understand, by an obscure performer?
The organ is fundamentally a loud instrument: the opposite of "intimate." It may be hard to imagine, but most of my early organ selections were made because it was on a "combo disk" with either a harpsichord or clavichord: in incongruous pairing, to say the least! I often shy away from symphonic music for the same reason: I feel too "exposed" with such a big sound.
A poorly reproduced organ sound is pretty pathetic. Don't bother with tiny speakers and sound system. The real essence of the organ is the vibrating air around one, I think. (Also, see the previous point about it being loud.)

I now feel compelled to explore this medium more systematically, not just because its sound, but because it includes a repertoire I've glossed over. Take Sebastian Bach, for instance: beyond the trio sonatas a few war horses, I am unfamiliar with this important facet of his repertoire.

Over the last 30 years I have purchased only six CDs that were specifically on the organ. I just extended that by another six, doubling that genre in one fell swoop. What did I get? Volumes one and two of Ton Koopman's latest collection of Sebastian Bach's complete organ works. I say "latest", because it look appears that he has at least several such collections. In fact, I started getting one of his collections some time ago, on the Teldec label, but that looks like it has since been superceded.

Why Koopman? He is well-established, I'm already familiar with his recordings, and his recordings are readily available. Although he doesn't strike me as being the most subtle, he is solid and energetic, and doesn't exhibit the kind of musical bad habits that annoy me. In addition, his recordings are on a selection of historic European organs, something I consider desirable. Am I wild about Koopman's playing? I can't say: I don't have the reference point to compare. However, I am very much enjoying the new music, the new texture, and find that I do enjoy cranking up the volume.

I'm now looking for those organ recordings that really excite me. Young Benjamin Alard shows real promise, not just as a sublime harpsichordist, but as the kind of subtle organist I seek.

Goldberg Reprise

2008-07-19T08:45:00.001-07:00

Goodness: I haven't posted anything since April! This doesn't mean that I have given up on music, nor purchasing recordings. Rather, it has been a busy period with too many distractions. You will still find me in the morning with iPod and headphones, doing chores. There is no such thing as "too many recordings."

I received an extravagant gift that has kept me busy: a SlimDevices Transporter. This is a very high-end device, yielding even better playback than my MusicHall CD25.2; indeed, this is the most "audiophile" piece of equipment I now own. More importantly, it is motivating me to consolidate every single recording I have onto one hard disk. The end result will be that I have a catalog of everything, with easy retrieval. (I gave up counting my CDs some time ago: I'm guessing it is over 1,500, which makes me only a "mid-weight" collector.)

The process requires that I load each and every CD into the computer to "rip" it to a digital format. Because this is a high-end device, I want to use a "lossless" format that provides some compression, but without any loss in dynamics or detail. Using a lossless compression makes it possible for me recreate the original recording bit-for-bit; this results in much larger files than generally practical for iPods and other MP3 players. Since the data is served off of my computer system (transmitted via wireless to the Transporter), I installed a one Terabyte external disk that will provide a home for my entire collection, with room left over for future recordings.

There are several lossless standards available, and this choice got me into some trouble. I experimented with both FLAC and ALAC and once I chose the latter (because it is native to iTunes) I managed to delete the first 360 recordings I had laboriously ripped, essentially having to start over; it has taken me a couple of weeks to recover. I am more careful, now!

The process of ripping disks means I have to handle each-and-every CD, which leads to my topic today. I'm astonished at how many recordings of the same works I have, particularly when it comes to Sebastian Bach. I have complained about this before. Nowhere is is more obvious than with the Goldberg Variations. In looking at my many versions, I can't help but reflect on many of their merits and deficiencies:

Murray Perahia: my favorite, for the perfect balance of, well, everything.
Pierre Hantaï: my favorite harpsichord recording. Actually, I only have his first recording, not finding much difference between it and his second.
Christoph Rousset: the blandest recording of any major artist I have.
Glenn Gould: how can you not respond to either? He has magic, along with what I can only call "bad manners". There are moments of absolute perfection, but I still think Perahia comes close, with consistency.
Jaroslav Tuma: best clavichord recording. This is also a very original interpretation, not sounding anything like Gould. He makes it sound very natural to the clavichord. His harpsichord version is less compelling.
Kurt Rodarmer: most high energy recording--on two guitars! This has fabulous sound and energy, but suffers from a "Segovia style" that succumbs to gross over-emphasis of SOME notes THAT somehow the performer THINKS are so important the LISTENER might miss them.

This isn't my complete collection, by any means. No, I don't own the Leonhardt recording(s), which I'm sure some aficionados will insist eclipses all others. I have many middle-of-the-road recordings, none of them bad. I think I have enough for now.

Seriously Unserious

2008-04-17T06:05:00.001-07:00

I have a special relationship the ukulele: it is the perfect size and because it is tuned similarly to the top four strings of a guitar, I can actually pick it up and play it. Perfect for travel transport, also perfect for aging and increasingly arthritic hands. I also have a bad habit of making impulse purchases of ukuleles while on travel and without an instrument. I bought three on various Hawaiian islands, back in the days when I traveled there frequently for business. I bought my fourth yesterday while in Palo Alto. Actually, Gryphon Stringed Instruments has an amazing collection of ukuleles and I should count myself lucky to not have walked out with the New Renaissance Compass Rose Tenor ukulele: gorgeous looks and sound. I really don't need another high-end ukulele.

Instead, I walked out with the Fluke Cowboy Stensil concert. It is, as a friend put it, "so ugly it's cute." And, it is virtually indestructible: almost entirely synthetic, except for the laminate (i.e., "plywood") soundboard and wood neck. Even the fretboard is entirely plastic. However, the instrument is resonant and sounds as good, or better, than many other all-wood instruments in its price range. I have been assured that I can bring it anywhere with me and not worry about changes in temperature and humidity. What really grabbed me, however, is the stensil on the front. The thing about ukuleles is that they really are instruments of pure, silly joy: one cannot play one (even badly) and not have people smile. Multiply that by a factor of ten for this charming little instrument.

The ukulele has an honorable history. Derived from the machête da rajao, the instrument was brought to the Islands in the mid-19th century. The "classic" ukulele (Hawaiian for "leaping flea") is so small that there is really no expectation for a solid bass, so that the "lowest" note is raised an octave, yielding a tuning of g'–c'–e'–a'. Larger instruments now use wound strings and really sound like small guitars. (The high-end instrument I was foolishly tempted to walk away with yesterday sounded better than most guitars...) Like all instruments with limited resources, the ukulele has its own virtuosi who make it exceed expectations. While at the store, I also bought a book of tablature: a volume of the "Jumpin' Jim's Ukulele Masters Series" titled "The Classical Ukulele." Transcriptions include (I know this is difficult to believe) Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, the entire prelude from Bach's first cello suite, and even Couperin's Les Barricades Mystérieuses. I guess I have my work cut out for me.

A Fistfull of Forqueray

2008-04-14T17:15:00.001-07:00

Antoine Forqueray (la Père) was was a good viol player, but not a nice man. His wife left him five times, accusing him of being "hot headed." They separated; he lived the good life, leaving his family impoverished. Indeed, he treated his son Jean-Baptiste-Antoine Forqueray (‘le fils’) very badly—to the point of imprisoning him and even having him thrown out of the country. Sounds like a family for the Jerry Springer Show...

Forqueray ‘le fils’ published his father's viol pieces twice after his death: one edition for the viol with figured bass, the other a keyboard transcription that provides us with some of the instrument's most engaging music. In fact, it's not really clear how much of this music is the son's and how much the father's. At least three pieces were by the son, and they are so similar to the rest that they are impossible to pick out. All pieces are so harmonically progressive that it is challenging to place them in the same century as la Père. Regardless of parentage, I find I grow more fond of this music over time. Especially, in the hands of the right performer.

My introduction was not good: Christoph Rousset's 2-CD collection was my first. It left me cold when I first acquired it, and listening to it today, I find it rushed and without grace, so much so that I have to wonder what was going on. Was Rousset bored, just uninspired, or perhaps under pressure by the label to win a marathon and squeeze the music into as few bits as possible? Either way, this is a Forqueray to avoid, but I do like the sound of the instrument: the 1761 Hemsch in Paris. I mention the sound because it provides a sharp contrast to my latest recording, by Blandine Rannou, which has a marvelous performance, but a disappointing sound.

Blandine Rannou consistently marches to her own drummer with her performances, especially in her selection of tempos. Her trademark is to boldly plod slowly, yet perfectly, so that one savors almost each separate note. This is not the limitation of technique, for she has considerable resources, but rather a reflection of her own unique vision. As I have said before, I like Rannou because her performances always make me think. In contrast, it seems that Rousset's later recordings do nothing by annoy me.

Rannou's 2-CD set include all five suites, and I could hardly imagine a more opposite interpretation from Rousset's. Her tempos are so broad that the order of the suites had to be rearranged to fit everything onto 2 CDs, even then the first suite is split across the two CDs. This is a Forqueray that breaths, that carries the essence of "Frenchness" in its perfect notes inegales, and that shows the harpsichord to be the better medium for the music. In fact, according to the notes, Rannou didn't just play directly from the 1747 edition, but enhanced it, based on her expertise in realizing continuo and working from the viol edition. To be honest, her changes aren't readily apparent, perhaps because they sound so natural. However, something went wrong with the sound. She plays on the well-recorded Hemsch copy by Anthony Sidey and I can't tell if the microphones were too close, the room too small, or some invasive engineer figured that the sound needed "improvement". Although the character of the instrument shines through, the sound is bloated and indistinct, a real disappointment for an otherwise fabulous recording.

While on the topic of Forqueray, it is worth mentioning a couple other recordings. Overall, one of my favorites is a recording I don't actually own, performed by Yannick Le Gaillard, and which doesn't seem to be available through any current source. Since I don't have the album notes, I know nothing about the instrument, which doesn't have as rich a sound as Rannou's, but better clarity of recording. Gaillard's performance is energetic, and has just the right touches of humor and pathos, a combination I would associate only with French music. The second recording of Forqueray that I procured after my disappointing Rousset was by Arthur Haas on the 1785 Jacques Germain. This recording includes only two of the suites, numbers five and two, but includes La Forqueray by Duphly and Rameau, yielding a very pleasing program. I still like this recording, but Haas lacks the "swing" of Rannou and Le Gaillard that makes this music so "French" to me, but he plays with warmth and sincerity. Even though Rousset has the more correct French "mannerisms", Haas' recording creates a much better impression, and overall, it has the best sound of them all—if only Rannou recorded her performance with this sound!

Laurent Stewart en Concert

2008-04-12T08:55:00.000-07:00

French harpsichordist Laurent Stewart has a special relationship with San Diego: last night he performed for a third time in the last seven years, establishing him as both a regular and a favorite. An unlikely favorite: Laurent's English is limited, at best, and he is generally not well known here in the U.S. Indeed, obtaining his recordings is an exercise in patience; it just took me four months to get the his recording of Marchand. Good news, however: he will apparently be recording on the Zig-Zag Territoires label—a favorite of mine—and I can only hope that word of his artistry spreads.

Stewart is a mature artist. His quiet demeanor, intense focus, and minimalist approach to hand movement doesn't suggest the showy virtuoso. However, his technique is in such abundance that his nonchalance inspires confidence. One can sit back and enjoy the music.

Although it can be unfair, or even dangerous, to limit any performer to a single period, there is no doubt in my mind that Stewart is one of the great voices for the 17th century repertoire. I vividly remember his first program here, split between Froberger and Louis Courperin: one of the most powerful solo performances in my memory. His second concert, about four years ago, focused on primarily Chambonnières and d'Angelbert, marks the start of my passion for those two; his performance of d'Anglebert's Tombeau de Mr. de Chambonnières remains etched in my memory as the most poignant.

Last night's concert bridged the 17th and 18th centuries. It opened with a suite in D minor of Louis Marchand, 1699. Marchand was, of course, a contemporary—possibly rival—of Sebastian Bach. Like Bach, he was something of an antiquarian, writing in a conservative style of the past. I have grown quite enthusiastic over his limited oeuvre: it really represents the best of the late 17th century, while cautiously looking forward to the next. I think it was wise to open with this suite, rather than the next by d'Anglebert: it is more accessible music, and the concluding Chaconne is powerful powerful and gripping. The suited opened with an unmeasured prelude, which I consider the ultimate test of an interpreter. Unmeasured preludes can easily be jumbles of notes, without meaning or direction. Under Stewart's fingers it made complete sense: every run, arpeggio, and embellishment had its place. Stewart is never academic, nor is he prone to excesses; behind the prelude was an intelligence and smoldering passion.

The first half concluded with a suite in G minor by d'Anglebert, 1689. As I said, it was fortunate that Stewart didn't open with this, not because of a deficiency of either the music or performer, but rather because the florid embellishments necessary to d'Anglebert's music may pose a challenge to those who aren't already intimate with this intimate style. Throughout the entire program, Stewart established his mastery of French ornamentation, making it sound natural, even integral to the music. I have sat on the fence over pronouncements on d'Anglebert's greatness, but I think it is time for me to make a stand: once you understand his style, his music is very much of the first class, and hearing it played as it was last night is one of Life's great pleasures.

The concert concluded with works by Rameau, bringing Stewart more firmly into the 18th century. Stewart took the Allemande from the 1728 Suite in A minor slowly, but not as slowly as Blandine Rannou. It worked for me, allowing me to really hear the notes, but I know many may favor a more vigorous, virtuosic tempo. La Triomphante was a triumph, although it seemed to me that Stewart might have been wrestling a bit with the instrument itself to negotiate the repeated notes. The finale was the solo harpsichord version of the premier concert from the Pieces de clavecin en concerts. This was a bold move, as this is fiendishly difficult music. Again, it seemed that Steward was struggling a bit with the repeated notes so prominent in La Coulicam; I think programming such a difficult piece late in a concert on a relatively unfamiliar instrument was daring. I might add that, while there were minor technical glitches, I think I noticed them more because so much of the concert was absolutely note-perfect. Whatever challenges presented themselves, Stewart always maintained the musical integrity of the piece, while preserving his nonchalance—and therefore my comfort that he was not going to "crash and burn." Note-perfect performances are largely a fantasy created by recordings, and I would take whatever minor imperfections to get the kind of energy and vision that a live performance can present.

We are fortunate to have a "regular" of Laurent Stewart's caliber in San Diego: he is always welcome here!

Crossover Calamity

2008-04-05T11:24:00.000-07:00

Someone Shoot the Percussionist, Please!

I consider Rolf Lislevand to be a most successful "crossover" early musician, but the trend for his recordings is not good. His "breakout" recording of Kapsberger (1993) was a revelation in its sound textures and energy. At the time I found the inclusion of percussion to be magical. His next crossover recording took on the codex of santiago de murcia (1999) brought similar imagination, including an exciting Latin energy that made the ensemble of baroque guitars sound more flamenco than Flamenco.

His 2001 recording based loosely on the guitar alfabeto manuscripts of Forscarini, Corbetta, and others struck me as less "authentic," and more pandering to the New Age tastes. The ensemble of that recording is quite distinguished, including Arianna Savall and Paolo Pandolfo—not to mention percussionist Pedro Estevan. There was no denying the energy and wonderful sound textures, but it is a recording that rarely tickles my fancy.

His latest recording of this ilk, Nuove musiche (2006), confirms what I consider to be a downward spiral: it is all energy and color, with little substance and some major annoyances. The worst of these annoyances are the bizarre percussion additions of Pedro Estevan: not only poorly conceived—to the point of randomness—and often tasteless. This is a recording you play twice and either give away to some unsuspecting family member or simply throw away.

Blame doesn't fall entirely on Estevan, although the consistent annoyances resulting his strange ramblings have eliminated any intent to listen a fourth time. The frantic strumming of the baroque guitars becomes glib and showy, reminiscent of some Las Vegas act. In fact, Lislevand reuses much of the Kapsberger he drew upon so effectively in his earlier recording, reducing the earlier masterpieces to caricatures. The recording opens with the ever-popular Arpeggiata, one of the most haunting harmonic progressions I can think of, then layers in a distracting and pointless percussion, and then a vocal, sung by Arianna Savall, one that is gratuitous, at best; the whole track sounds like a late night jam session in which the ensemble was so stoned that they were convinced they were creating something really deep.

The final track Toccata cromatica is the crowning assult. At one point Savall utters the words "non ho piú parole" ("I have no more words") and it is at that point that my patience is exhausted. I recognize that an intent of this recording is to demonstrate the application of modern tastes and improvisation to early music, a goal I hold to be admirable. The results just don't work for me.

There is no doubt that Lislevand has an ear for sound texture, and there are many intriguing sounds, including a very closely miked clavichord and a "nyckelharpa." In fact, instruments are all miked overly closely and the sound is very much that of a studio session. There are undoubtedly those who will like it, but I happen to think that this brilliant performer comes close to ruining some marvelous music.

Island Music

2008-03-29T08:26:00.001-07:00

I can't account for my fondness for English composers of the 19th and 20th centuries. With the exception of Vaughn Williams and Britten, they are mostly of the "second rank"—a claim that is sure to earn me the ire of some. For example, I have nearly everything of Elgar—who occasionally rises into the category of "first rank," but not consistently—and at least half a dozen recordings of the music of Arnold Bax—who occasionally sinks to bottom the category of "second rank."

I know there are some who claim that they "don't have time" to appreciate anything less than the best. If you listen only to music of the "first rank," you live in a smaller world and miss many pleasant moments. I would even argue that if all you listen to is "the best," then you can't fully appreciate just how good it is.

In scanning Fanfare, I saw an intriguing description of the music of Wlliam Sterndale Bennett by reviewer Arthur Lintgen:

There is much fairy music here. They could almost be played consecutively and function as something resembling another symphony. All of Bennett’s music sounds quite lovely. He has the same deft lightness of touch as an orchestrator as Mendelssohn, though his works are less melodically inspired.

Now, I really love Mendelssohn's "fairy music," so I ordered this CD [BENNETT The May Queen. The Wood Nymphs. The Naiades.1 Parisina. Symphony in g • Nicholas Braithwaite, cond; London PO; Philharmonia Orchestra • LYRITA 206 (64:35)].

This is, indeed, lovely music and very much like Mendelssohn. In fact, it might be even better than this recording gives credit. The sound of both orchestras (The Naiades is performed by the Philharmonia Orchestra) is top notch, as one would expect. Unfortunately, the direction under Nicholas Braithwaite is competent, but often timid and lackluster. Given a little more energy and "punch," I think this is music that could make an even stronger impression.

Bennett (1816-1875) had a close relationship with Mendelssohn; the master treated Bennett as a peer, not a student. Schumann noted an affinity in style between the two composers: "the same beauty of formn, poetic depth yet clearness, and ideal purity, the same outwardly satisfying impression, but with a difference." It seems that much of Bennett's career was stifled by the need to support himself by giving lessons; given more freedom, he might have risen to the first rank.

As for "the Island," there is no doubt that its people know how to appreciate music, both now and in eras past. It is no wonder that the likes of Handel migrated there, and was much beloved by Mendelssohn and many others.

Of the Second Rank

2008-03-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

One doesn't see a lot of references to Mozart's students. Haydn was his senior, and his longer lifespan reflects a style that both precedes and follows the younger Mozart. Beethoven apparently had hoped to study with Mozart, but it doesn't appear that they actually met (wikipedia has an interesting discussion of Beethoven and Mozart). An interesting name caught my notice: Francesco Pollini (1762-1846). Pollini was a student of Mozart, and became an important influence on 19th century piano technique, thanks to his 1811 Metodo per Clavicembalo.

Fanfare Magazine has become a valuable source of "leads" for new recordings; I especially look for reviews of recordings off the beaten track. So, when reviewer Laura Rónai wrote, 'One of the big pleasures of writing reviews is discovering the occasional fabulous composer who has been unjustly forgotten by posterity. An equal pleasure is finding a master of the second rank played with commitment and gusto by a first-class interpreter.' I figured I would have to explore that path.

Rónai nailed it when she describes Pollini as 'a master of the second rank.' His music is often brilliant, with many fine moments, but there is nothing that particularly grabs my attention, or sustains my interest. There are moments when I hear the seeds of ideas that Schubert or Mendelssohn knew how to turn into greatness. However, the music must be a delight to the virtuoso, providing ample opportunity to dazzle and impress. Indeed, the performing artist, Costantino Mastroprimiano, executes with joyous perfection; this is one talented musician who deserves music more worthy of his talent.

The recorded piano is described as a "fortepiano", but I consider it one of the early grand pianos. The notes on the instrument are untranslated, but it was built by Giovanni Heichele, Trieste, in either 1820 or 1825. It seems to be in very good condition, but I have to be honest: I find these early grand pianos to not be very satisfying to listen to. They lack the character of what I would call a "fortepiano" and the refinement of a more evolved piano. Like composers 'of the second rank,' I find such instruments of intellectual interest, but of the second rank.

Perfect Dance

2008-03-22T05:20:00.001-07:00

The organizational schema I create for iTunes is a representation of how I mentally categorize the music I listen to. The default schema has categories: Alternative, Blues/R&B, Children's Music, Classical, Dances, Easy Listening, Electronic, Folk, Hip Hop/Rap, House, and so forth. This genre classification is worthless for me: 99% of what I own falls under "classical," which is fundamentally useless by itself. Instead, I have: Baroque Guitar, Chamber, Clavichord, Concerto, Flute/Recorder, Fortepiano, Guitar, Harpsichord, etc. This demonstrates my personal focus on the instrumental media; you could have just as easily organized by period.

The point I'm driving towards is that I have one category I have added, "Misc. Solo," which is where I put recordings I don't know where else to put. It is dominated by Andrew Lawrence-King, playing baroque harp. I just added a third recording of his, Chorégraphie, which makes me wonder if I need to add a new category. However, would it be "Harp," for which I don't have a particular interest in, or "King," to represent one of the most musical performers on any musical instrument, for any genre, anywhere?

For, indeed, Andrew Lawrence-King is one of the great musicians alive, and I don't think that has anything to do with the instrument. If he played the kazoo, I'll bet it would be a favorite. His latest recording is subtitled "Music for Louis XIV's dancing masters," and it is dominated by "Preludes by Jean-Henry d'Anglebert, Overtures & dances by Jean-Baptiste Lully & Andre Campra in solo settings by d'Anglebert." In other words, largely d'Anglebert on the harp.

The recording opens with on of d'Anglebert's unmeasured preludes, one in C. If the recording had no other track, it would be worth the cost: this is the most perfectly conceived and played unmeasured prelude I have ever heard. Period. By playing on the harp, King gets the best of both worlds: the sonority of the harpsichord and the expressiveness of the lute. Fundamentally, unmeasured preludes are a jumble of notes and making those notes make sense is a challenge not every musician rises to equally. King makes every single note make sense; he is that good.

The rest of the recording follows suit: 17th century music at its very best. King's feel for both the dance pulse and ornamentation is absolutely exquisite; I fear that in saying so, my claim will be either regarded as either glib or perfunctory, but "exquisite" aptly describes it. The program is a nicely "choreographed" collection of pieces, many of which I'm not familiar with because—to be honest—Lully has never been my cup of tea. King makes me love Lully. Also included are a couple of d'Anglebert's other harpsichord pieces, including another unmeasured prelude, and each equally moving. His performance of Ennemond Gaultier's Chaconne du Vieux Gautier, arranged by d'Anglebert for harpsichord, but played on harp, suggests that old Vieux Gautier should have played the harp, not the lute.

The "triple harp" is a curious instrument. It has three "layers" of strings that provide chromatic scales without pedals. It was so popular with Welsh harpists in 17th century London that it is often referred to as the "Welsh Harp." An interesting description can be found on the web site of Moch Pydery, a Welsh music group. I find the instrument to have a gorgeous bass, but I find the treble to be rather harsh, I'm sure the result of the short gut strings and the manner by which they are played: it is not as refined a sound as the lute, but in the hands of King, it is very, very expressive.