Composers Datebook

In 2002, film director Godfrey Reggio released his latest movie. Naqoyqatsi — the Hopi word for “life as war” — was Reggio’s third and final installment in a trilogy of unusual, non-narrative films, all with Hopi titles, each comprised of visually striking, collage-like visuals set against hypnotic film scores by American composer Philip Glass.

Naqoyqatsi may have been a non-narrative film, Reggio described his 2002 film as a symphony in three movements, and even provided descriptive titles: Movement 1 — “language and place gives way to numerical code and virtual reality”; Movement 2 — “life becomes a game”; Movement 3 — “a world that language can no longer describe.”

Fast forward ten years to 2012, when Glass had been commissioned to turn his Naqoyqatsi film score into a concert work for cello and orchestra. In the film score, solos played by famous cellist Yo-Yo Ma featured prominently, so this “repurposing” of film score seemed a logical step.

And so, on today’s date in 2012, Glass’ Cello Concerto No. 2, Naqoyqatsi, received its premiere performance with the Cincinnati Symphony conducted by Dennis Russell Davies and Matt Haimowitz as the cello soloist.

Philip Glass (b. 1938): Cello Concerto No. 2 (Naqoyqatsi); Matt Haimovitz, cello; Cincinnati Symphony; Dennis Russell Davies, conductor; Orange Mountain Music CD 0087

Ok, if you say, “band music,” most people think “marching bands; sporting events.”  So if someone tells you there is a band work titled Ra, you might automatically respond: “sis-boom-ba.” But that’s not at all what composer David Dzubay had in mind. He was thinking of Ra, the ancient Egyptian sun god.

A major figure in Egyptian mythology, the sun god Ra was born anew each day and journeyed across the sky doing battle with his chief enemy, a serpent named Apep. Dzubay’s band composition, Ra is, as he described it, “a rather aggressive depiction of an imagined ritual of sun worship, perhaps celebrating the daily battles of Ra and Apep.”

He arranged his piece — which was originally written for orchestra — for concert band, and in this incarnation won an annual competition for new bands works. Ra was first performed by the Indiana University Symphonic Band, led by Ray Cramer at the College Band Directors’ National Convention in Minneapolis on today’s date in 2003. 

Both the venue and the performers selected for that premiere must have seemed particularly gratifying to Dzubay, since he was born in Minneapolis and received his Doctorate in Music at Indiana University.

David Dzubay (b. 1964): Ra; University of North Texas Wind Symphony, Eugene Corporon, conductor; Klavier 11137

In Beethoven’s day, there were no independent symphonic orchestras in Vienna, so when Ludwig van wanted to put on an orchestral concert, the way he did it was to hire a theater orchestra for a night or two. Now, Viennese theaters were usually pretty busy and well booked up, but in Catholic Austria, they would shut down for a few weeks each year during Lent, which explains why a number of his symphonies premiered in April when the orchestras were available for hire.

It wasn’t until today’s date in 1842 that Vienna’s most famous independent orchestra played its first concert, and even then, as it still does today, the Vienna Philharmonic also doubles as the orchestra of the Vienna Opera.

German composer and conductor Otto Nicolai led that first concert of the Vienna Philharmonic. The program included Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony and, not surprisingly, Beethoven remains core repertory for the Vienna Philharmonic, along with those other two Viennese “Bs” — Brahms and Bruckner. But in the 20th century, the Austrian orchestra presented important European premieres of works by Samuel Barber and Leonard Bernstein, two notable American “Bs.” And more recently, the Vienna Philharmonic premiered Diversions by the German-born, American composer and conductor, Andre Previn.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827): Symphony No. 7; Vienna Philharmonic; Leonard Bernstein, conductor; DG 419 434

André Previn (1930-2019): Diversions Vienna Philharmonic; André Previn, conductor; DG 471 028

One of the preeminent figures in 20th century Japanese concert music was composer Toshiro Mayuzumi, born in Yokohama in 1929.

The range of his music reflects a curious turn of mind. He wrote pieces in a neo-Romantic mode, experimented with electronic music and jazz, composed aggressively avant-garde works, and scored music for theater, and both Japanese and American films. In 1958, he composed a Nirvana Symphony, inspired by the haunting sound of Japanese temple bells.

“For the past few years, I feel as if I have been possessed by bells. I wonder why it is that, no matter how splendid a piece of music may be, it sounds totally faded and worthless when set beside the lingering resonance of a temple bell,” Mayuzumi wrote.

The Nirvana Symphony of 1958 was followed up with another orchestral work inspired by Buddhist themes, a Mandala Symphony, which premiered in Tokyo on today’s date in 1960.

Mayuzumi’s 1976 opera, Kinkakuji, or The Golden Pavilion, is based on a novel by Yukio Mishima, which, thanks to a New York City Opera production in 1995, became the first Japanese grand opera to be staged in the U.S.

Toshiro Mayuzumi died in 1997 at 68.

Toshiro Mayuzumi (1929-1997): Nirvana Symphony; Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony; Hiroyuki Iwaki, conductor; Denon 78839

She’s been called a “British Gershwin” but perhaps a “British Poulenc” might more accurately describe the genial and graceful music of Madeleine Dring, a woman whose diverse and energetic creative life was cut short, when, at 53, she died suddenly on today’s date in 1977.

Dring was born into a talented musical family in 1923, and she showed early promise. On her tenth birthday she won a scholarship to study at the Royal Conservatory of Music in London, and eventually studied composition with Herbert Howells, Ralph Vaughan Williams, and Gordon Jacob. Dring was soon providing incidental music and songs for amateur and professional theatrics. She was also a gifted singer and actress, and performed occasionally on stage and television.

She married British oboist Roger Lord, and a number of her chamber works feature that instrument.

Six volumes of her songs were published after her death, largely through the persistence of her husband, and many of her other works have been published, performed, and recorded with increasing frequency, especially in the United States.

Sadly, Dring died just when women composers began to receive increasing attention from music historians, performers, and audiences worldwide. A British survey of her life and music was published in 2000.

Madeleine Dring (1923-1977): Three Piece Suite; Cynthia Green Libby, oboe; Peter Collins, piano; Hester Park 7707

It’s all a matter of timing. In 1942, the Soviet Union was America’s wartime ally, and the Soviet composer Dmitri Shostakovich made the cover of TIME magazine. Seven years later, the war was over, but the Cold War was on — with a vengeance.

On March 25, 1949, Shostakovich arrived in New York for his first visit to America as part of the Soviet delegation to a Cultural and Scientific Congress for World Peace.

By then the anti-Communist tide of American public opinion resulted in pickets and protests.  Those who spoke at the congress, including the American composer Aaron Copland, felt compelled to preface their comments with unambiguously anti-Communist manifestos. Shostakovich nervously read the equally unambiguous speech prepared for him by his Soviet minders, attacking American imperialism in general and expatriate Russian composer, Igor Stravinsky, in particular. It was embarrassing for everyone concerned.

But while he was in New York, Shostakovich got to play a piano reduction of the Scherzo from his Symphony No. 5 for a huge crowd at Madison Square Garden. That, at least, resulted in a big ovation — and maybe that was how he privately approached the whole, sad affair — as a kind of grim scherzo, or joke.

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975): Symphony No. 5; USSR Cultural Ministry Symphony; Gennady Rozhdestvensky, conductor; MCA 32128

Dealing with the death of loved ones is never easy, but sometimes music can help — especially if music plays a role in the lives of both the departed and survivors. And some survivors find both meaning and consolation in commissioning a work of new music to honor the memory of those they have lost.

On today’s date in 2007, the Choral Arts Society of Philadelphia gave the premiere of such a memorial work, Love Abide. The work was commissioned by Paul Rowley, who for years had driven his wife Miriam to weekly Choral Society of Philadelphia rehearsals, where she sang alto, always, said her husband, “beaming with excitement.” 

After her sudden death in 2003, Rowley asked the society’s artistic director to choose a composer to write a tribute to his wife. Rowley had a text in mind for the lyrics and wanted an alto solo and a female composer. The commission went to British composer Roxanna Panufnik and the selected text was the 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians, which includes the lines: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things …  faith, hope and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

Roxanna Panufnik (b. 1968): Love Abide; London Oratory School Choir; London Mozart Players; Lee Ward, conductor; Signum 564

Any composer who sets out to write a violin concerto knows their new work will be measured against the famous concertos of the past. But in the fall of 1936, when Hungarian composer Béla Bartók decided to write a violin concerto, he asked his publisher to send him some recent work of his contemporaries. After seeing what Karol Szymanowski, Kurt Weill and Alban Berg had accomplished in the form, Bartok set to work, with much input from his violinist friend, Zoltan Szekely, for whom the new concerto was being written.

Bartók was in America when Szekely premiered his Concerto with the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra, conducted by Willem Mengelberg.

It was only in America in 1943, that Bartok first heard his Concerto at a New York Philharmonic concert. He wrote, “I was most happy that there is nothing wrong with the scoring. Nothing needs to be changed, even though orchestral accompaniment of the violin is a very delicate business.”

If Bartók was happy with the scoring, he wasn’t very pleased with one New York music critic, who wrote that he didn’t think the new work would ever displace the great violin concertos of Beethoven, Mendelssohn, or Brahms.

“How is it possible to write such an idiotic thing? What fool fit for a madhouse would want to displace these works with his own?” he commented.

Béla Bartók (1881-1945): Violin Concerto No. 1; Kyung-Wha Chung, violin; Chicago Symphony; Sir Georg Solti, conductor; London 411 804

The Boston Symphony premiered a new symphony on today’s date in 1984 — a commission for its Centenary Celebrations. It was the Symphony No. 1 by American composer John Harbison.

Like many composers who teach, Harbison does most of his composing in the summer months, usually spent on a farm in Token Creek, Wisconsin. The academic year is usually spent in Boston, teaching at MIT. In the case of his first symphony, he worked on the piece both in Wisconsin (where he was also finishing up an Italian language song-cycle), and during a residency year at the American Academy in Rome.

“Just as it felt very right to be working on Italian songs in the Midwest, it was natural to work on this American-accented symphony in Italy. I have always found the view from the distance to be clearest,” he said.

Harbison’s father, a Princeton history professor and amateur composer, also was a big influence on him. The younger Harbison, like his father, has an abiding passion for and fluency in American jazz as well as the modern classical idiom. He dramatically fused both styles in one of his most ambitious ventures to date, the opera, The Great Gatsby, which premiered at the Metropolitan Opera in 1999.

John Harbison (b. 1938): Symphony No. 1; Boston Symphony; Seiji Ozawa, conductor; New World 80331

In 1838, Robert Schumann visited the grave of Franz Schubert in Vienna and paid a courtesy call on Schubert's brother, Ferdinand, who was still alive. Schumann had heard about Ferdinand's closet full of his brother’s manuscripts, and among the dusty music scores that Schumann was shown was one for a big symphony in C Major, unperformed, he was told, because people thought it was too difficult, too bombastic, and far too long.

Looking at the music, Schumann was stunned, and asked if he could arrange to have the symphony played. “Sure,” said Ferdinand, and Schumann sent the score off to his friend and fellow composer, Felix Mendelssohn, who was the director of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Mendelssohn liked what he saw, and gave the first public performance of Schubert’s big symphony on today’s date in 1839.

After attending the rehearsal, Schumann wrote to his girlfriend, Clara Wieck, “Today I have been in seventh heaven. If only you had been there! For I cannot describe it to you; all the instruments were like human voices, and immensely full of life and wit … and the length, the divine length, like a four-volume novel … I was utterly happy, with nothing left to wish for except that you were my wife and I could write such symphonies myself!”

Well, sometimes wishes do come true, and good deeds are rewarded. Schumann did marry Clara, did write symphonies of his own, and did help launch Schubert’s work on its path towards worldwide recognition as a great symphonic masterpiece.

Franz Schubert (1797-1828): Symphony No. 9; Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra; Kurt Masur, conductor; Philips 426 269