Composers Datebook

For decades, Russian-born American composer, conductor and witty musical lexicographer Nicolas Slonimsky compiled the reference work Music Since 1900. It’s a year-by-year, month-by-month, day-by-day chronicle of musical events he deemed significant, interesting, or simply amusing.

Here, for example, is Slonimsky’s entry for July 15, 1942:

“Heitor Villa-Lobos conducts in Rio de Janeiro the first performances of three of his orchestral Choros: No. 6, No. 9 and No. 11, exhaling the rhythms, the perfumes and the colors of the Brazilian scene, with tropical birds exotically chanting in the woodwinds against the measured beats of jungle drums.”

Slonimsky did have a way with words, and certainly had fun compiling his mammoth (and highly readable) reference work.

For his part, Brazilian composer Heitor Villa-Lobos was equally diligent, so much so that he claimed he couldn’t always remember everything that he had written. His Choros No. 11 for piano and orchestra lasts some 65 minutes and is one of his most ambitious works. Originally the word “choro” meant improvised music by Brazilian street musicians, but Villa-Lobos always used the word in its plural form to describe over a dozen of his instrumental works.

Heitor Villa Lobos (1887-1959): Choros No. 9; Hong Kong Philharmonic; Kenneth Schermerhorn, conductor; Naxos 8.555241

A famous commercial for magnetic recording tape once asked the question: “Is it live — or Memorex” — suggesting it was hard to tell the difference. These days, at concerts of some contemporary composers’ works, the correct answer would be “It’s live and Memorex” — as there is a growing body of works that involve both live performers and prerecorded tape.

A 1995 work by American composer Ingram Marshall, Dark Waters, was written for an English horn soloist accompanied by a prerecorded tape of fragments from old 78-rpm recordings of Jean Sibelius’ chilly tone-poem The Swan of Tuonela. Both the live English horn part and the prerecorded tape are digitally processed and mixed at each live performance. “Those who know the Sibelius will recognize familiar strains,” Marshall said.

On today’s date in 1998, Marshall and Libby Van Cleve, the English horn player for whom Dark Waters was written, recorded the work at St. Casimir’s Church in New Haven, Connecticut. “You can actually hear the sound of that church in the recording,” recalled Van Cleve. “We finished at about 3 a.m., and it was stiflingly hot — how ironic that Ingram’s music — and Sibelius’ — is always associated with cold climates!”

Ingram Marshall (1942-2022): Dark Waters; Libby van Cleve, English horn; Ingram Marshall, electronics; New Albion 112

On today’s date in 1829, German composer Felix Mendelssohn was in London, participating in a gala concert to raise funds for the victims of a flood in Silesia. “Everyone who has attracted the slightest attention during the season will take part,” wrote Mendelssohn. “Many offers of good performers have had to be declined, as otherwise the concert will last till the next day!”

Mendelssohn performed his Double Concerto for two pianos and orchestra, joined by his friend and fellow composer/pianist Ignaz Moscheles. Mendessohn and Moscheles jointly prepared a special cadenza, and jokingly bet each other how long the audience would applaud it — Mendessohn predicting 10 minutes, and Mosceheles, more modestly, suggesting five.

In the Baroque age, double concertos were very popular, but by Mendelssohn’s day they had become less common. In our time, concertos for two pianos are even rarer. One of the most successful American Double Concertos was written between 1952 and 1953 by American composer Quincy Porter. Also known as the Concerto Concertante, commissioned by the Louisville Orchestra. It proved to be one of the most popular of Porter’s works, and even won the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 1954.

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847): Double Concerto; Güher and Süher Pekinel, pianos; Philharmonia Orchestra; Neville Marriner, conductor; Chandos 9711

Quincy Porter (1897-1966): Concerto for Two Pianos; Joshua Pierce and Dorothy Jonas, duo pianists; Moravian Philharmonic; David Amos, conductor; Helcion 1044

The Violin Sonata No. 3 by American composer William Bolcom had its premiere on today’s date in 1993 at the Aspen Music Festival in Colorado. The work was commissioned to honor the 75th birthday of Dorothy Delay, a legendary violin teacher who taught at Juilliard for many years.

The violin is a strange animal for composers to master, especially if they aren’t violinists already, and Bolcom subtitled this work Sonata Stramba, “stramba” being the Italian word for “strange” or “odd.”

Bolcom confessed to being fascinated by two musical sounds more than any other: the voice and the violin. “When I was about ten, we trundled out my maternal grandfather’s imitation Stradivarius, made in Czechoslovakia, and I took a few not-very-successful lessons. When the violin was stolen out of the back seat of my father’s Buick that was the end of my studies of the instrument,” Bolcom recalled.

Bolcom did become a talented pianist, however, and befriended violinist Gene Nastri, who initiated the young composer into the mysteries of the instrument by performing Mozart and Beethoven Violin Sonatas with him, as well as the fledgling violin works written by the young composer.

William Bolcom (b. 1938): Violin Sonata No. 3; Irina Muresanu, violin; Michael Lewis, piano; Centaur 2910

These days, when modern music is on the program, a sizeable chunk of the concert hall audience might start nervously looking for the nearest exit — but that wasn’t always the case.

On today’s date in 1882, 21-year old American composer and pianist Edward MacDowell took the stage in Zurich, Switzerland, to perform his Modern Suite for piano at the 19th annual conference of the General Society of German Musicians, a showcase for new music whose programs were arranged by none other than Franz Liszt.

Liszt had met MacDowell earlier that year, and when MacDowell sent him the music for his Modern Suite for solo piano, Liszt asked the young composer to play it himself at the Society’s conference in Zurich.

The success of his Modern Suite No. 1 lead to the creation of a second, and both were published a year later by the Leipzig firm of Breitkopf & Hærtel. These two suites were the first works of MacDowell to appear in print, and launched his career as one of the major American composers of the late 19th century.

Edward MacDowell (1860-1908): Modern Suite No. 1; James Barbagallo, piano; Naxos 8.559011

On today’s date in 1919, British composer Edward Elgar finished a work he labeled jokingly as his Opus 1001 — a 50-second Smoking Cantata, intended, according to the manuscript score, as “an edifying, allegorical, improving, expostulatory, educational, persuasive, hortatory, instructive, dictatorial, magisterial, inadautory work.”

The score was completed at the Hertfordshire home of a wealthy banker named Edward Speyer, one of his oldest friends, to whom the manuscript was given. When he came to stay, Speyer had only one request, that the composer and his musician friends, “Kindly do not smoke in the hall or on the staircase.”

That’s also full text of Elgar’s cantata.

In the middle of his manuscript, he drew a medieval hell’s mouth, belching smoke. The little score was discovered, performed, and recorded for the first time in July of 2003.

Edward Elgar (1857-1934): Smoking Cantata; Andrew Shore, bar; Hallé Orchestra; Mark Elder, conductor; Hallé CD HLL-7505

Today we note the birth and death anniversaries of two American composers of the 20th century.

On today’s date in 1915, American composer David Diamond was born in Rochester, New York. In 1940, Dmitri Mitropoulos, then the music director of the Minneapolis Symphony commissioned one of his best-known works. He had specifically asked Diamond for an upbeat piece of music. “Write me a happy work,” he asked. “These are distressing times ... make me happy!” The 29-year-old composer responded with his popular Rounds for String Orchestra, which Mitropoulos premiered in Minneapolis in 1944.

Also on today’s date, in 1984, the American composer and teacher Randall Thompson died in Boston at 85. Randall Thompson wrote three symphonies and some fine chamber works, but his best-known piece of music is this choral setting of Allelujah which was first performed at the opening of the Berkshire Music Center at Lenox, Massachusetts, in the summer of 1940, when Thompson was 41 years old.

“[My Alleujah is] a very sad piece,” said Thompson. “Here it is comparable to the Book of Job, where it is written, ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.’”

David Diamond (1915-2005): Rounds; Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra; Gerard Schwarz, conductor; Nonesuch 79002

Randall Thompson (1899-1984): Alleluia; Robert Shaw Chamber Singers; Robert Shaw, conductor; Telarc 80461

Today’s date in 1931 marks the birthday of the first notable Native American composer of concert music. His name was Louis Ballard, and he was born in Devil’s Promenade in Oklahoma. His father was Cherokee, and his mother Quapaw.

As a young boy he attended — but managed not to be irreparably damaged by — one of the notorious boarding schools where Native American students were taught to forget everything about their own language and culture. He remained rooted in Quapaw language and traditions at the same time his interest in European classical music developed, and in 1962 became first American Indian to receive a graduate degree in music composition.

Inspired by the example of Bela Bartok, who incorporated the folk music of Eastern Europe in his works, Ballard attempted to do the same with Native American source material in concert works both large and small. He was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in 1971 and in 1974 his orchestral piece Incident at Wounded Knee was performed at Carnegie Hall and taken on an Eastern European tour by Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, who had commissioned the work.

Louis Ballard (1931-2007): Mid-Winter Fires; Amy Morris, flute; Mark Serrup, oboe; Mary Goetz, piano; Indande Records 52352

Unless you’re just mad about 18th century history, it’s unlikely you know off the top of your head who the winners and losers were in the War of the Spanish Succession. Suffice it to say, on today’s date in 1713, to celebrate the successful resolution of that conflict, a festive choral Te Deum was performed at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.

It was written by ambitious 28-year old German composer, George Friedrich Handel. We’re not sure if Handel wrote his Utrecht Te Deum in response to an invitation from the British royal family or wrote it “on spec” to win their favor. In any case, when performed by the Royal Musicians and the choir of the Chapel Royal on July 7, 1713, it made a tremendous impression.

Handel’s first royal employer was King George the First, and three years after Handel’s death, King George III sat on the throne. Now, King George may have suffered from madness and lost the American colonies, but at least he did know a good composer when he heard one. He idolized Handel and saw to it that the composer was buried in Westminster Abbey.

George Frederic Handel (1685-1757): Utrecht Te Deum; St. Paul’s Cathedral Choir; The Parley of Instruments; John Scott, conductor; Hyperion 67009

On today’s date in 1971, jazz great Louis Armstrong died in New York City at 69. He was born in New Orleans, and for years, all the standard reference books listed his birthday as the Fourth of July, 1900. Well, it turned out that wonderfully symbolic date was cooked up by his manager Joe Glaser. Armstrong wasn’t sure when he was born, so the Fourth of July seemed as good a date as any, and was accepted as fact for many years. Eventually documents were discovered that proved he was actually born on August 4, 1901.

Armstrong earned the nickname “Satchmo,” short for “Satchelmouth,” and in later years he was affectionately dubbed “Pops.” If documentary filmmaker Ken Burns is to be believed, he was the central figure in the development of jazz in the 20th century.

British music critic Norman Lebrecht offered this assessment: “Armstrong never bowed his head nor sang from anywhere but the heart. He was a figure of enormous dignity and a musical innovator of universal importance.” Acknowledging his influence in American concert music, composer Libby Larsen subtitled one of her works, a 1990 Piano Concerto, Since Armstrong.

Louis Armstrong (1901-1971): Skip the Gutter; Louis Armstrong and the Hot Five; Columbia 44422; I’m in the Barrel arr. David Jolley; Windscape Arabesque 6732