The commission for a new Clarinet Concerto from the great American composer Aaron Copland came from a rather unlikely source: Benny Goodman, the man known as the King of Swing. Goodman was one of the most famous and important jazz musicians of all time, but in the late 1940s, swing music was on the decline, and bebop had taken over. Goodman experimented with bebop for a time but never fully took to it in the way that he had so mastered swing. Goodman then turned towards the classical repertoire, commissioning music from many of the great composers of the time, such as Bela Bartok, Darius Milhaud, Paul Hindemith, Francis Poulenc, and of course, Aaron Copland. Copland eagerly agreed to the commission, and spent the next year carefully crafting the concerto, which is full of influences from Jazz as well as from Latin American music, perhaps inspired by the four months Copland spent in Latin America while writing the piece.

What resulted from all this was a short and compact piece in one continuous movement split into two parts. With an orchestra of only strings, piano, harp, and solo clarinet, Copland created one of the great solo masterpieces of the 20th century. It practically distills everything that makes Copland so great into just 18 minutes of music. Today on the show we’ll talk about the difficulty of the piece, something that prevented Benny Goodman from performing the concerto for nearly 2 years, as well as the immense difficulty of the second movement for the orchestra. We’ll also talk about all of those quintessentially Copland traits that make his music so wonderful to listen to, and the path this concerto takes from beautiful openness to jazzy fire. Join Us! 

Recording: Martin Frost with the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra

Pedro Henrique Alliprandini dissertation: https://getd.libs.uga.edu/pdfs/alliprandini_pedro_h_201812_dma.pdf

Steve Reich, the great American contemporary composer, provided this program note about his work Different Trains: “The idea for the piece came from my childhood. When I was one year old my parents separated. My singer, song-writer mother moved to Los Angeles and my attorney father stayed in New York. Since they arranged divided custody, I travelled back and forth by train frequently between New York and Los Angeles from 1939 to 1942 accompanied by my governess. While the trips were exciting and romantic at the time I now look back and think that, if I had been in Europe during this period, as a Jew I would have had to ride very different trains. With this in mind I wanted to make a piece that would accurately reflect the whole situation.”

Reich went about this piece in a completely innovative way: he recorded voices and then created the musical material for the piece out of the voices themselves, something that had never been done before. Therefore, the text and music material were integrated in a groundbreaking way, and the results are at times unbearably moving. This is a piece that has captured listeners attention in a way that is relatively rare for contemporary music, and it is a piece of immense power and depth. I have always been fascinated by this piece and have wanted to perform an orchestral version of it, but I never have been able to cover it on the show. That is, until AJ contributed enough to my fundraiser last year before the election to sponsor a piece, and he chose Reich’s Different Trains. Today we’ll talk a bit about Steve Reich generally for those of you unfamiliar with him, and then we’ll tackle this remarkable and unique piece in all of its creativity and profound communication. Join us!

Debussy and Ravel are often described as the prototypical musical impressionists. It is often said that the two composers are the closest equivalents to the artistic world of Monet, Renoir, Pisarro, Degas, and others. But both Ravel and Debussy (like Monet for that matter), vehemently rejected the term Impressionism, and they both felt that they were striking out on their own individual paths in their msuic. That didn’t stop the public and critics from constantly comparing the music of these two shining lights of French music, despite the fact that Ravel and Debussy are actually quite different. Comparing Ravel and Debussy is a bit like comparing Haydn and Mozart. At first glance, there are many similarities, but if you look and listen more closely, Ravel and Debussy(like Mozart and Haydn) had totally different approaches, goals, and styles.

All of the constant comparisons and attempts at making the composers compete with each other had a real impact on Debussy and Ravel. Initially they were friends and mutual admirers of each others work, but they slowly drifted apart over time until they stopped speaking to each other altogether. We’ll talk about this complicated personal relationship, as well as looking at these differences in their music, not from a critical standpoint, but from the perspective of bringing out what is so wonderfully unique about their music. We’ll also talk about Ravel’s arrangements of two Debussy’s greatest orchestral works: his two piano arrangement of Debussy’s Nocturnes, and his piano 4 hands arrangement of the legendary Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. Join us on another collaboration with G Henle Publishers!

Recordings:

Nocturnes

Claudio Abbado with London Symphony Anne Shasby, Richard McMahon, Piano

Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun

Ravel arrangement: Jean-Pierre Armengaud and Olivier Chauzu Debussy Arrangement: Charles Badami and Anthony Olson 

It’s hard to overstate the depth of the connection between Dmitri Shostakovich and the legendary cellist Mstistlav Rostropovich. Shostakovich and Rostropovich were extremely close friends, and Shostakovich wrote and dedicated several works to him, including the piece we’re going to talk about today, the first Cello Concerto. Rostropovich had been desperate to get Shostakovich to write a concerto for him, but Shostakovich’s wife had one simple piece of advice: if you want Shostakovich to write something for you, don’t talk to him about it or even mention it. So Rostropovich waited and waited, until July of 1959, when he was asked by Shostakovich to come to Leningrad to try out a new Cello Concerto. Shostakovich played through the piece for Rostropovich, turned to him, and asked him if he liked it. Rostropovich apparently told Shostakovich that he “had been shaken to the core.” Shostakovich, in his famously modest way, then shakily asked Rostropovich if he could dedicate the concerto to him. Rostropovich immediately agreed, and then rushed off to learn the concerto as quickly as possible. He learned the entire concerto in 3 days, then returned to Shostakovich and played it for him by heart. The concerto is practically stamped with Rostropovich’s name, which is why I’ll be using a recording of a live performance of Rostropovich during the show today, though I must say I also recommend a pretty great modern recording by a certain cellist who is also my sister, Alisa Weilerstein. This concerto has always been one of my favorites; it is compact, powerful, punchy, beautiful, intense, concentrated, and tremendously exciting. For me, it is one of Shostakovich’s most Beethovenian works, in its lean power and its obsession with a single motive. Today on this fundraiser sponsored show, we’ll talk through this fantastic concerto, and explore just what makes its momentum so inevitable and so thrilling from start to finish. Join us!

Magician, Swiss Watchmaker, Aloof, Elegant, Precise, Soulful, Childlike, Naive, Warm: these are all words that have been used to describe Maurice Ravel, a man of elegant contradictions. But perhaps these contradictions are why his music remains so beloved and universally appealing to so many musicians and audience members. Ravel has long been one of my favorite composers, and I always adore listening to his music and performing it. For the 150th anniversary of his birth, the legendary publishing house of G Henle has decided to focus on Ravel and his circle this year, calling this series Ravel and Friends. A few months ago, the Henle office contacted me to ask if I would be willing to collaborate with them on a series of Sticky Notes episodes about Ravel, each one focusing on the relationship between Ravel and another composer who was in his circle. This sounded like an amazing idea, and so I jumped at the chance to work with them. So, over the course of the next 5-6 months, you will be seeing 5 episodes under the Ravel and Friends theme. Today’s episode will be a chance to do an overview on Ravel himself and to take a look at some major works that I haven’t gotten around to covering on the show yet. We’ll then finish the show with an interview with the great pianist Boris Giltburg, as we discuss the solo piano verison of Ravel’s La Valse, one of the most challenging pieces in the entire repertoire. Later episodes will include a look at Ravel’s relationships with Debussy, Gershwin, and De Falla, and much more! This is such an exciting chance to take a deeper look at one of the greatest 19th and 20th century composers, as well as take a look at the broader musical and social trends of that era, something I’ve always been deeply interested in. Join us!

Amy Beach is a name that might not be familiar to you. She was born in 1867 and died in 1944, and her life was one of the most fascinating and varied in musical history. She was a child prodigy, became a successful pianist, and then pivoted to composing at her husband’s request. She was one of the first successful composers without any training from Europeans, and when her Gaelic Symphony was performed for the first time in 1896, it became the first symphony by an American woman to be published or performed. This symphony, and Beach’s whole career, is inextricably linked with the history and mores of the time, from the influence of Dvorak on American music, to Beach’s stop and start relationship to performing. The Gaelic symphony is a remarkable amalgamation of American symphonic brilliance, some European influence(especially from Dvorak), and the music of Beach’s own heritage. It’s a symphony that was very popular in its time and then was forgotten, but now is finding itself on the stage more and more often. This week on the show we’ll go through this beautiful symphony, a pillar of early American classical music, and a piece that certainly deserves to be better known than it is. Join us!

Voici un épisode bonus spécial de Sticky Notes en français, en avant-première de mes concerts avec l'Orchestre National de Lille, présentant la 13e symphonie de Shostakovich. Si vous souhaitez écouter la version anglaise de cet épisode, elle est disponible dans les archives. Je m'excuse pour toute mauvaise prononciation en cours de route, et j'espère que vous l'apprécierez !

This is a special bonus episode of Sticky Notes in French ahead of my concerts with the Orchestre National de Lille, featuring Shostakovich's 13th symphony. If you would like to listen to the English version of this episode, it is available in the archives. Apologies for any mis-prononciations along the way, and I hope that you enjoy it! 

Nationalism, patriotism, cultural identity, a sense of home; these are concepts and ideas whose popularity have ebbed and flowed throughout history. Nationalism has been seen as a natural expression of cultural identity and pride, and it also has been at the core of virulent racism and xenophobia. Patriotism has been used as a cudgel by all sides of the political spectrum for good and evil, and a sense of home has led to cultural explosions and also to some of the bloodiest wars of all time. For Bedrich Smetana, these concepts were extremely multi-layered. He was a proud Bohemian nationalist for much of his life, but he also barely spoke Czech(German was the lingua franca among educated classes in Prague), and he was also disenchanted with the Prague musical establishment due to their cool reception of his Wagnerian/Lisztian style. He even left Prague for a time to work in Gothenburg Sweden, writing curtly to his parents: “Prague did not wish to acknowledge me, so I left it.” But only 6 years later, he wrote again to a friend: "My home has rooted itself into my heart so much that only there do I find real contentment. It is to this that I will sacrifice myself." Stirred to patriotic and nationalistic sentiments, Smetana began studying the Czech language in earnest, and his second opera, The Bartered Bride, became the first Czech opera to enter the mainstream repertoire around Europe. It was a piece fully in Czech style, and even though Smetana battled to the end of his life with different members of the Prague musical establishment, he is still thought of today as the founder of the Czech national sound. This is even before we begin talking about the topic for today, Ma Vlast, which is commonly translated to My Fatherland, My Country, or My Homeland. Ma Vlast is a massive, nearly hour and a half long work that amalgamates Wagnerian and Listzian ideas of a tone poem along with nationalistic music that has stirred not only the Czech soul but the souls of people all around the world. As Semyon Bychkov, the great Russian conductor and current Music Director of the Czech Philharmonic says: “The core subject of this piece is home and the meaning of home; everything else is the gravy.” Today on the show we’ll begin by talking about Smetana’s tragic experience of deafness, and then we’ll go through each movement of his huge piece, talking about the msuic from the perspecitve of nationalism and also Wagnerian ideas of leitmotifs as well as orchestration and style. Join us!

Recording: Czech Philharmonic conducted by Rafael Kubelik

In the early 1930s, at the height of the atonal and twelve tone movement in music, the American violinist Louis Krasner commissioned a concerto from the Viennese Composer Alban Berg. Berg declined at first, saying that his idiom was not appropriate to a concerto and that he did not belong in the world of Wienawski and Vieuxtemps, two relatively obscure composers nowadays who wrote virtuoso showpieces for the violin that are very exciting but not particularly deep on a musical level. Krasner countered with the Beethoven and Brahms’ violin concertos, which, frankly, is a pretty great argument! Krasner was convinced that Berg was the vessel through which 12 tone/serial music could reach, as the great writer Michael Sternberg called it, “it’s expressive potential.” The 12 tone/serial technique of writing music was still controversial at the time(and it remains that way now), with many composers and performers embracing atonal music, with others, especially audiences, turning away. Berg finally accepted the commission, and despite his normal slow pace of composing, wrote the concerto in just a few months. The piece fulfilled Krasner’s expectations, and more, and it has become almost a standard repertoire piece for violinists. It is in the twelve tone style, but it is also in many ways a fundamentally tonal piece, and the way that Berg passes through atonality to tonality and back again makes this concerto accessible in a way that many other atonal works are not at first hearing. Today on this Patreon and Fundraiser inspired show, we’re going to go through this concerto, first by starting with a crash course in 12 tone music. Then we’ll walk our way through this concerto, talking about tone rows, tonality within tone rows, Carinthian folk songs, life and death, Manon Gropius, Alma Mahler, Bach, and the memory of angels. All of this is contained inside of this remarkable piece, and we’ll talk all about it, and more. Join us!

There is nothing like hearing a Late Beethoven String Quartet for the first time. Beethoven’s late string quartets, Op. 127, Op. 130, Op. 131, Op. 132, and Op. 135, are among the 5 greatest pieces of music ever written for any combination of instruments. They reach a kind of cosmic understanding of the world that is unparalleled, and they remain the Mount Everest of every string quartet’s repertoire. The quartet we’re going to be talking about today, Op. 135, is slightly the outlier from the set, in that it is less expansive, slightly less complex, and as Misha Amory from the Brentano String Quartet says, “it is the work of a composer who seems to have suddenly attained some new, simple truth after miles of struggle.” Op. 135 is Beethoven’s last completed work, and as this year begins, I thought I would check off number 2 of 5 Late Beethoven Quartets with this work that seems to exist on another plane of existence entirely. It is a piece of great depth and sadness, and also of ecstasy and lightness. It is a piece of great seriousness that is also full of a sense of humor that is rare in Beethoven. It contains one of the greatest slow movements ever written, a movement that would inspire one of Mahler’s greatest symphonic movements, and it also features a zany and wild scherzo movement that could have been written two weeks ago. In short, Beethoven’s Op. 135 has it all. Join us as we go through this masterpiece together!