Composers Datebook

In the 1920s, German composer Paul Hindemith wrote a set of seven concertos, which he collectively titled Kammermusik or Chamber Music. This generic title was part of Hindemith’s goal to foster a more “objective” musical style, modeled on 18th century composers like J.S. Bach.

Hindemith’s Kammermusik No. 4, a work for solo violin and chamber orchestra, had its first performance in Dessau on today’s date in 1925. The soloist was Licco Amar, the first violinist of the Amar String Quartet, an ensemble in which Hindemith played viola.

Hindemith’s father had been killed in World War I, and Hindemith himself had been called up, but avoided being sent to the front by forming a string quartet that played nightly to ease the nerves of his commanding officer. Then during the World War II, despite being considered a so-called “Aryan” composer, Hindemith fell out of favor with the Nazi regime and eventually emigrated to America, where he became a very influential teacher.

To address the role of music in society, Hindemith suggested composers should revive the idea of writing works amateur musicians could play at home with family and friends.

“People who make music together cannot be enemies,” he observed, “at least while the music lasts.”

Paul Hindemith (1895-1963): Kammermusik No. 4; Konstanty Kulka, violin; Concertgebouw Orchestra; Riccardo Chailly, conductor; London 433 816

Today’s date in 1914 marks the birthday of Polish-born composer and conductor Andrzej Panufnik, whose life was dramatic — and romantic — enough for a Netflix mini-series.

It involved resisting the Nazis in war-torn Warsaw, struggles with the Communist Party in the post-war years, a daring Swiss escape to Great Britain worthy of a John Le Carré novel, love affairs and marriages with beautiful women, the tragic death of one of his children, and long years trying to balance the demands of his conducting and composing careers. And, despite the admiration of some of the biggest names in classical music, for years his music met with indifference from the general public.

But at this point in the mini-series, cue the triumphant grand finale soundtrack theme. In the closing decades of his life, Panufnik won increasing recognition as one of the 20th century’s finest composers and was showered with high-profile commissions by major orchestras around the world.

Panufnik refused to return to Poland until democracy was restored in 1990. Shortly before his death in 1991, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II, and posthumously awarded the Polonia Restituta Medal by his native land.

Andrzej Panufnik (1914-1991): Old Polish Suite; Polish Chamber Orchestra; Mariusz Smolij, conductor; Naxos 8.570032

It was on today’s date in 1835 that Romantic opera composer Vincenzo Bellini died at a country home near Paris. He was only 34 but had achieved great fame in his brief lifetime. 

The long, elegant melodic lines Bellini spun out in his operas were much admired and proved to be a major influence on the solo piano works of his contemporary, Frederic Chopin.

Bellini’s first success was Il Pirata or The Pirate from 1827, and just three years later, he could truthfully report:  “My style is now heard in the most important theatres in the world …and with the greatest enthusiasm.” He settled in Paris, where his final opera, I Puritani di Scozia or The Puritans of Scotland premiered early in 1835.

If Bellini’s life had followed the Romantic story-lines of his operas, he would have been a dispossessed outcast who dies for love. In fact, Bellini was financially successful, moved in the highest social circles, and — rather than dying for love — was planning to marry for money at the time he succumbed to chronic gastroenteritis. 

At his requiem mass, four leading composers of his day, Paer, Cherubini, Carafa and Rossini, each held a corner of the coffin shroud. 

Vincenzo Bellini (1801-1835): Sinfonia from Il Pirata; German Opera Orchestra, Berlin; Marcello Viotti, conductor; Berlin Classics 11152

Today we celebrate the birthday of Leonardo Balada, an American composer born in Barcelona on today’s date in 1933. After studying at the Barcelona Conservatory, the 20-something composer came to New York on a musical scholarship.

Balada recalls his arrival as both a cultural and climatic shock: “When I landed in New York — on a freezing day in 1956 — little did I know of the mental turmoil I would experience in the next few years. That city had become the focal point for the latest music and arts. New York shook my musically conservative upbringing to its roots.”

Like most composers of his generation, Balada had to decide whether to follow the path of the abstract serialists who dominated music at that time or find his own path.

“I felt a strong necessity to … look to the future and not be criticized as a reactionary,” recalls Balada. “How could it be otherwise for a liberal young fellow brought up in Spain, opposed to Franco’s conservatism?”

With encouragement from great Spanish guitarist Narciso Yepes, Balada began to draw on his own imagination and cultural heritage, blending contemporary techniques with elements of a more traditional language, often infused with Spanish themes.

Leonardo Balada (b. 1933): Concierto Magico; Eliot Fisk, guitar; Barcelona and Catalonia National Orchestra; Jose Serebrier, conductor; Naxos 8.555039

“Are people still writing concertos for harpsichord?” you ask. Well, today, we have an answer, which is “Yes!”

On today’s date in 2002, this new Concerto for Harpsichord and Chamber Orchestra by Philip Glass had its premiere performance at Benaroya Hall in Seattle. Glass was asked to write a new Harpsichord Concerto for the Northwest Chamber Orchestra and says he found the commission intriguing.

“For one, I have always been an admirer of the literature for harpsichord and have played a bit it myself,” Glass wrote. “Secondly, I knew that the modern-day harpsichord was capable of a fuller, more robust sound than was available in ‘period’ instruments and might make a handsome partner to a modern chamber orchestra.”

Glass’ concerto is in the traditional three movements of a Baroque era concerto, with a slower, more lyrical middle movement flanked by speedier, flashier outer movements.

And perhaps surprisingly for a “minimalist” composer famous — or infamous — for his loping, seemingly endless repeated patterns, this Harpsichord Concerto, despite being recognizably a work by Philip Glass, is more varied and mercurial than usual, with a final movement in which the harpsichord soloist really needs to “go for Baroque!”

Philip Glass (b. 1937): Concerto for Harpsichord and Chamber Orchestra; Christopher D. Lewis, harpsichord; West Side Chamber Orchestra/Kevin Mallon; Naxos 8.573146

When we think of Russian music in Paris, the name Sergei Diaghilev comes first to mind. In the early years of the 20th century, that famous Russian impresario saw to it that not only the new music of Stravinsky was performed in the French capital, but also a historical panorama of earlier Russian works, including Mussorgsky’s opera, Boris Godunov.

But even before Diaghilev, Russian music figured prominently at the famous Universal Expositions held in Paris in the latter 19th century. On today’s date in 1878, for example, Tchaikovsky’s Valse-Scherzo for violin and orchestra received its premiere at an Exposition concert conducted by the composer’s compatriot Nicolai Rubinstein. In addition to this brand-new work, Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 and symphonic fantasia The Tempest were also performed.

Tchaikovsky was back home in Russia, curious to know how his works fared in Paris. He wrote to a friend: “Have you been to any of the Russian concerts in Paris? According to some newspapers my compositions were a great success, to others a failure. I cannot get at the truth.” Fortunately, when Rubinstein returned to Russia, he was able to report first-hand that Tchaikovsky’s music had, indeed, been very well received.

Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971): The Firebird (1919 revision); Minnesota Orchestra; Eiji Oue, conductor; Reference 70

Peter Tchaikovsky (1840-1893): Valse-Scherzo; Gil Shaham, violin; Russian National Orchestra; Mikhail Pletnev, conductor; DG 457 064

During his later years, German composer Johannes Brahms was a frequent visitor to the town of Meiningen, where the Grand Duke had a fine orchestra that gave stellar performances of Brahms’ music.

Early in 1891, Brahms heard one member of that orchestra, the clarinetist Richard Mülhfeld, perform chamber works by Mozart and Weber. Brahms was so impressed that they became fast friends. Listening to Mülhfeld play, Brahms became so enthusiastic about the clarinet’s possibilities that he began writing chamber works for his new friend. Brahms was always particularly fond of the female alto voice whose timbre is similar to that of the clarinet, so Brahms promptly nicknamed Mülhfeld “Fraeulein Clarinet” and the “new prima donna.”

For Mülhfeld, Brahms wrote a clarinet trio, which was followed by a clarinet quintet, and finally, a pair of clarinet sonatas, both composed in the summer of 1894.

These two sonatas were first played by Mülhfeld with Brahms at a private performance in the home of the sister of the Duke of Meiningen on today’s date that year. In November, the pair also gave private performances in Frankfurt for Clara Schumann and at Castle Altenstein for the Duke of Meiningen. The first public performances occurred in Vienna in January of 1895.

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897): Clarinet Sonata No. 2; Michael Collins, clarinet; Mikhail Pletnev, piano; Virgin 91076

American composer Virgil Thomson was fond of writing what he called “portraits”: musical sketches of people he knew. When asked how he did this, Thomson replied: “I just look at you and I write down what I hear.”

One of these works — a portrait in disguise — premiered on today’s date in 1954 at the Venice Festival in Italy. Identified simply as his Concerto for Flute, Strings, Harp, and Percussion, Thomson later confessed it was in fact a musical portrait of Roger Baker, a handsome young painter he had recently befriended.

Thomson was born in Kansas City in 1896, studied music at Harvard, lived in Paris through much of the 1920s and 30s, and in 1940 became the music critic of The New York Herald-Tribune, a post he held until 1954. He once defined the role of music critic as one who “seldom kisses, but always tells.”

But in 1954, he decided fourteen years as a music critic was enough, and it was time to concentrate on his own music for a change. Perhaps not by coincidence, one of the friends who encouraged him to do so was Roger Baker, the artist portrayed by Thomson in his 1954 concerto.

Virgil Thomson (1896-1989): Flute Concerto; Mary Stolper, flute; Czech National Symphony; Paul Freeman, conductor; Cedille 046

In 1871, one year after the premiere in Munich of Richard Wagner’s opera Die Walküre, German-born American conductor Theodore Thomas wrote Wagner asking if he might perform excerpts of this new work in the United States. Wagner turned him down, worried that loose American copyright laws might not protect his new music.

Undeterred, Thomas turned to famous German conductor Hans von Bulow for advice, who suggested he try to arrange a face-to-face meeting with Wagner to plead his case. After all, Bulow told Thomas, Wagner was actually quite interested in America. The meeting never took place, but somehow Thomas secured a manuscript of what would become the most popular orchestral excerpt from Die Walküre, its famous Ride of the Valkyries.

No one knows how Thomas managed it. Some speculate von Bulow himself provided the music. Others suggest the American conductor got his copy from Franz Liszt.

In any case, on today’s date in 1872, Ride of the Valkyries was performed for the first time in America at one of Theodore Thomas’ concerts in Central Park.

It proved to be a smash hit with Manhattanites. As Thomas recounted in his memoirs, “the people jumped up on their chairs and cheered.”

Richard Wagner (1813-1883): Ride of the Valkyries; from Die Walküre; Berlin Philharmonic; Claudio Abbado, conductor; DG 471 627

The book Great Operatic Disasters chronicles the sometime humorous — and sometimes harrowing — mishaps that have befallen opera singers and productions over the last few centuries. According to that book, September 16 seems to have been a particularly unlucky day.

Consider that on today’s date in 1782, Italian castrato Farinelli, one of the most celebrated opera stars of the 18th century, died in Bologna after his dismissal from the Spanish court; on September 16th in 1920, great Italian tenor Enrico Caruso would make his last records in Camden, New Jersey; and in 1977, opera diva Maria Callas dropped dead of a heart attack in Paris.

On today’s date in 1966, the new Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center opened with a gala production of a new opera commissioned by American composer Samuel Barber. Despite an all-star cast headed by Leontyne Price and a lavish stage production designed by Franco Zefferelli — you guessed it — the opera was a flop.

Maybe everyone expected too much, or perhaps the lavish sets were too distracting. Whatever the reason, despite its gorgeous music, even today Barber’s Anthony and Cleopatra, has never found a lasting place in the repertory.

Samuel Barber (1910-1981): Anthony and Cleopatra; Spoleto Festival soloists and orchestra; Christian Badea, conductor; New World 322