PARISIAN GOBBLEDYGOOK TURNS POULENC’S FIRST PUBLIC PREMIERE INTO A SUCCÈS DE SCANDALE, PAVES WAY FOR COMPOSER’S FUTURE IN MUSIC

Today, we celebrate the birth of French composer and pianist, Francis Poulenc, born 119 years ago today, the heir-assumptive to his family’s lucrative privately owned pharmaceutical company.

Poulenc, who would later become an avid soldier during the culmination of WWI (and a short stint in WWII) however, had other things in mind for his future than joining the family business.

From a very tender age, he would marvel at his mother, an amateur pianist, set atmosphere to the family lodgings with a delightful hodgepodge of both classical and simple, frolicky works - the latter, to amuse her young (and, as time would see, quite impressionable) son, of course.

Although strictly verboten by the master of the household, his father, Émile, from pursuing a life in music, young Francis would begin lessons on the piano by the age of five. Through his pre-pubescent and teenage years, young Poulenc would familiarize himself with the music of French composer Claude Debussy, the Austrian master of the lied, composer Franz Schubert (in particular his famous Winterrise cycle), and, chiefly, the scandalous (yet utterly delicious) cacophony of Russian-born, Parisian legend Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, which Poulenc would later claim as his single greatest influence in pursuing a life in the arts – his fathers’ wishes be damned.

Spanish virtuoso pianist Ricardo Viñes
was instrumental in helping Poulenc
reach the stars.

Three years after Stravinsky and Vaslav Nijinsky caused an uproar in Paris’ Théâtre des Champs-Elysées with their deeply polarizing performance, a then 17-year old Francis delved deep into the world of music – mingling with the avant-garde poets of the day, Guillaume Apollinaire, Max Jacob, Paul Éluard and Louis Aragon - setting, in private, their texts to music. Many of these ‘practice’ pieces are said to have been later destroyed by Poulenc himself, after having been so fortunate as to being taken under the wing and tutelage of Spanish virtuoso pianist and teacher Ricardo Viñes, in whom Poulenc once revealed that he “owed everything” to the tutorship of this fine Spanish maestro. There lay some doubt as to when exactly the duo began practicing together. However it is believed Francis met with, and began his tutorship as early as 1914 – officially becoming Viñes pupil by 1916.*

The pairing of these two musicians could not have been more fruitful for young Poulenc. The virtuoso Viñes -a graduate of the Paris Conservatoire, no less - was so sought after, he was selected to premiere some of the works of leading French musical icons of the day, including works of Maurice Ravel, Claude Debussy and the ever-eccentric composer Erik Satie. Young Francis did not take his sessions with his professor lightly, and, according to the composer himself, neither did Viñes: Poulenc would later claim his esteemed teacher would was known to occasionally “rap at [his] shins” with heavily “buttoned boots” until Poulenc was able to correct his pedaling technique on the piano.

"Le Nègre au turban" by Delacroix.

Apparently, a good kick to the shin was exactly what the doctor ordered for young Francis. After just three years* under Viñes tutelage, a confident Poulenc decided he was ready or the public stage – quite literally. Unlike the riot that ensued in Paris with Stravinsky’s Rite, which drew boos, hisses, a little bit of cheering and a whole lot of drunken pummeling of thy neighbor, Poulenc’s premiere performance of Rapsodie left the audience aghast, not only by the composer’s drôle sense of humor, nor alone by the tenor who "threw in the towel" at the tail-end of the performance, refusing to sing what were known to be entirely inane, ludicrous lyrics – but also by the composer’s gall: Poulenc’s’ Rapsodie nègre, a 5-movement vocal and orchestral work for flute, clarinet, string quartet, piano and baritone, was scored by the composer during France’s love affair with “Art nègre” (African art – in particular sculpture) which began at the dawn of the twentieth century, attracting such artists from the French School as Henri Matisse, Eugene Delacroix and Pablo Picasso to

“[blend] the highly stylized treatment of the human figure in African sculptures with painting styles derived from the post-Impressionist works of Cézanne and Gauguin."^{[1 - see: African Influence in Modern Art - MET].}

The issue with Paris’ newfound love affair with African art was a lack of knowledge of African nations, customs - and most importantly, it's vast array of languages. There was, however, at least one person who didn’t lack at least some knowledge of the many languages of the giant continent: Poulenc himself - who, like many a Parisian, browsed through the local book shops for traditional African verse that he could later set to music. He espied a book of published verses edited by Marcel Prouille and Charles Moulié: “Les Poésies de Makoko Kangourou,” allegedly written in the language of Liberian but soon discovered to be a total hoax, penned by some pranksters, and stuffed to the brim with a litany of nonsensical words, and the occasional bawdy Parisian slang!

Neverthemind, Poulenc decided – and charged full speed ahead at setting the poem to lyrical verse, deciding its either now or never – for it was during this season of the budding composers’ life, surrounded by the likes of Ravel, Satie and co, encouraged by his muse Igor Stravinsky and praised by his renowned tutor Viñes, that he had better set this new work of his to stage before he lost his nerve (remember, this would be the first public perfomance of any of Poulenc's works - as formentioned, he had destroyed all previous attempts at composition prior to meeting Viñes). Rapsodie would be the very first time anyone outside of his practice sessions would hear the music – and come to know it's creator: Francis Poulenc - le nouvel homme sur la scène.

The highly anticipated premiere would be held Dec 11 1917 at Paris' Théâtre du Vieux-Colombier. Poulenc and all who surrounded and supported him through his musical journey expected the performance to go off without a hitch – but, alack! A hitch there were a many.

The baritone assigned the vocal parts during the third and final movement was not impressed. Sure, the music was beautiful indeed, but the inane gibberish of a writer taking the mickey, soured the singers ego:

During the third movement, the baritone began to sing the malarkious ode:

"Honoloulou, pota lama!
Honoloulou, Honoloulou,
Kati moko, mosi bolou
Ratakou sira, polama!

Wata Kovsi mo ta ma sou
Etcha pango, Etche panga
tota nou nou, nou nou ranga
lo lo lulu ma ta ma sou.

Pata ta bo banana lou
mandes Golas Glebes ikrous
Banana lou ito kous kous
pota la ma Honoloulou..."

So, what exactly do those trite lyrics mean? Your guess is as good as mine.

By the fifth movement, the interlude (vocal section) was to be repeated. The boastful baritone, feeling his manlihood slip away at the beginning of each verse, suddenly “threw in the towel.” According to Poulenc himself,

“[the singer said] it was too stupid and that he didn't want to be taken for a fool. Quite unexpectedly, masked by a big music stand, I had to sing that interlude myself. Since I was already in uniform, (remember Poulenc doubled as a soldier for the French Army during this period) you can imagine the unusual effect produced by a soldier bawling out songs in pseudo-Malagasy!" ^{[2: language of Madagascar].}

Surprisingly, the audience found the whole debacle hilarious (and the gorgeous music certainly went a long way to help matters), and was declared an immediate success!


If not already queued, skip ahead in the video below to the 3:11 mark to hear the first solo - which the baritone meandered his way through, and then 8:20 to hear it repeated - this is where the singer "threw in the towel," and Poulenc himself, not exactly known nor praised for his singing abilities, ran onto the stage, still dressed in his military garb, and began to belt out the nonsensical lyrics - much to the amusement of the audience:


During his tenure as estudiante to Viñes, Francis would balance his highly prized sessions with a role in the French army during the culmination of WWI, first serving as a conscript from 1918-1921, and remaining during the immediate post war period. (He would later take up orders again as a soldier during the Second World War; serving in June 1940 in an anti-aircraft unit at Bordeaux. After France surrendered to Germany, Poulenc was demobilized from the army July 18th of that year).

During this period, the then 18 year old served a stint on the Franco-German front (during July and October 1918). Shortly following his success on the frontlines, Poulenc was assigned a series of auxiliary posts, ending as a typist at the Ministry of Aviation. These less intense duties allowed time for Francis to work on his compositions.

Ironically, Poulenc would share the same bittersweet critiques by the public and press as he had once shared privately about his mother whilst sitting cross legged on the carpet as a child, enraptured at one moment by the seriousness of her classical household performances on the piano, and gideously giggling at the more frolicky and lighter fare she would often perform - much to her son’s amusement. Rapsodie and its minor scandal so amused it’s dedicatée, Erik Satie, and fellow composers Ravel and Stravinsky, that the latter used his influence to connect the rising star with a publisher, in whom Francis would secure a contract - a gift of such great generosity - bestowed upon Francis by his musical idol nonetheless - was a treasure never forgotten by Poulenc.

As 'a whole,' the daring soldier-cum-composer Poulenc was neither loved nor hated by the press - he had a particular panache that was perhaps welcoming to the public during the hardships of war.

First impressions, however, are made to last: Rapsodie’s impromptu solo vocal by a frazzled Poulenc during the work’s finale – all whilst dressed in military garb – combined with the known fact that he had managed to make such beautiful music out of utter gobbledygook – the composer became known by the colloquial tongue-in-cheek “Leg Poulenc,” a petit maître (dandy – but yet a talented one at that) – with even the snobbiest of the snobby critics noting that that it was the composer's "good luck that the public mood was turning against late-romantic lushness in favor of the freshness and insouciant charm of his works, technically unsophisticated though they were."

The composer's fresh, "technically unsophisticated" works, and the praise lauded upon him, slightly back-handed though they may have been, soon spread across Europe. In Britain, one critic Ernest Newman  wrote of the new man about town:

 "I keep my eye on Francis Poulenc, a young man who has only just arrived at his twenties. He ought to develop into a farceur of the first order."

Indeed.


-Rose.

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N.B.: I am currently busy with studies - as time permits I will re-visit this post to add all hyperlinks for easier access to related articles here at Unraveling Musical Myths.

IN TIME FOR THE HOLIDAYS: SOTHEBY'S ANNOUNCES MASSIVE AUCTION OF AUTOGRAPH SCORES, LETTERS OF CLASSICAL MUSIC'S MAJOR HITTERS

Richard Wagner (l), Franz Schubert (c), and Frederick Delius (r) are just three of many composers dating from the
Medieval era to the Romantic / Impressionistic age of Western classical music whose manuscripts and
memorabilia will be made available on the London auction block at Sotheby's on December 4, 2018.

A massive auction of rare autograph scores and letters dating from the medieval era through to the romantic age will commence December 4, 2018, London auction house Sotheby's announced today.

With estimated bids ranging from £300 to £70,000 and well over 100 manuscripts and music related memorabilia to be made available for prospective buyers, one is sure to find something special and unique for even the most difficult-to-shop-for family member, colleague or friend.

Highlights of the impending auction include autograph manuscripts of two, hitherto considered lost lieder written in the hand of Franz Schubert: his Tischler-Lied (D274) and Todtenkranz für ein Kind (D275), composed in 1815 during his so-called 'annus mirablis,' his most highly productive year.^[1]

The manuscripts are exceedingly rare - believed to be the only known autographs of the two lieder (having been formally regarded as "lost" in the Schubert Thematic Catalogue) and contain the composers' own handwritten annotations and additional verses of text.

Also up for auction will be a hitherto unknown manuscript of the first two movements of English composer Frederick Delius' 1888 String Quartet in C minor, as well as manuscripts of Johannes Brahms, Maurice Ravel, Felix Mendelssohn, Engelbert Humperdinck and Richard Strauss, and will include an exciting detailed scenario and prose draft of Richard Wagner's (left unorchestrated) music drama Wiland der Schmied (WWV82),^[2] written in the composers' own hand in dark brown ink, signed and dated “Richard Wagner (Paris, 11 märz 1850) (Zürich, 8 October 1850.)"

   

*CLICK TO ENLARGE* LOT 330: Richard Wagner, Autograph manuscript prose draft for the 3-act opera
"Wieland der schmied" [wwv 82], signed and dated ("Richard wagner"), 1850 | Sotheby's |

The Music, Medieval and Renaissance Manuscripts and Continental Books auction at Sotheby's is scheduled to begin at 10:30 am GST December 4, 2018.

To explore these and the other numerous manuscripts and memorabilia, visit Sothebys.com.

Footnotes:

^[1]To quote from Schubert biographer Brian Newbould: "The year 1815 has been called Schubert’s annus mirabilis. This hardly overstates the case. His output in this year can be summarised as: four Singspiele, a symphony and a half, a string quartet, nine works for solo piano, eight or nine church works involving orchestra (from the 109-bar Offertory (D181) to the Mass in G major, (D167), some two dozen partsongs mostly with piano accompaniment, and about 140 songs."  - from "Schubert: The Music and the Man," pp. 40, University of California Press, 1992

The Schubert manuscript is listed as LOT 316 at Sotheby's.

^[2]Wagner's draft for the libretto of his unrealised opera Wieland der Schmied (Wieland the Smith), which has been likened by one biographer as being his "most frankly autobiographic[al]" libretti, was inspired by Hector Berlioz' Romeo and Juliet symphony, and was drafted in the hopes of gaining an audience at the Paris Opéra. Wagner even toyed with the notion of presenting the finished libretto to Berlioz himself for the latters' orchestration.

The draft was originally published as an appendix to Richard's essay The Art-Work of the Future (Das Kunstwerk der Zukunft), a prospective vision on the idyllic aspirations of art and of Germanic legend. Wieland der Schmied fulfills the latter category - it is based on the Germanic legend of Wayland Smith.

Ultimately, Wagner would abandon the work - a move understood by scholars to have been the result of the assumption on the part of the composer of the perceived indifference of the French audience on such subject matters. Wagner attempted to have his father-in-law, Hungarian pianist and composer Franz Liszt orchestrate the work, however the latter declined the offer. An adaptation of Wagner's libretto would be scored by the 19th century Slovak composer Jan Levoslav Bella (written by O. Schlemm) between 1880 and 1890. That opera premiered in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia in 1926, and was subsequently reprised in Slovak under the title Kováč Wieland.

-Rose.

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RARE RECORDINGS: Did You Know FRENCH COMPOSER REYNALDO HAHN MOONLIGHTED AS A CROONER? LISTEN TO THE FAMOUS MASTER OF THE MÉLODIE SING WORKS OF CHABRIER, SELF

Reynaldo Hahn seated at his piano

French maître de la mélodie Reynaldo Hahn seemed to have it all – the Venezuelan born musician (he would become a naturalised citizen of France in 1909) was born into wealth: his father, a German-Jewish inventor and successful engineer hobnobbed with the Venezuelan President Antonio Guzmán Blanco, and his mother, a wealthy descendant of Basque colonists,  set up house in Caracas with Reynaldo’s 11 siblings, where they would live in the lap of luxury until political unrest during the first term of Blanco’s rule forced Hahn’s father to retire, and the family to vacate Venezuela for France.

The move would not be the end of Reynaldo – hardly – it would mark the beginning of a glorious career in the arts. 

Mesmerized by Parisian high society and it’s abundant venues and opputunities for the arts, a young Reynaldo (he was only three when the family left Caracas for Paris) took up lessons on the piano whilst simultaneously perfecting his still-immature voice, accompanying himself on the instrument with the arias of Jacques Offenbach. 

The budding musician’s tenacity paid off most amiably: he would make his début at the private salon of a Napoleon: one Princess Mathilde, the famous Emperor’s niece. Here, Hahn would henceforth be declared a child prodigy – a moniker the lad would later prove was most well earned: by the age of eight, young Reynaldo included his own songs into his singing and performing repertoire, when he decided to branch out into the realm of composing. 

He had officially entered polymath status, stunning perhaps no one at all when he effortlessly gained admission into the notoriously discriminating Paris Conservatoire – an elite and much sought-after musical institution known to take umbrage with child prodigy applicants (the Conservatoire board had famously rejected a young Franz Liszt just years before Hahn carved out for himself a spot among the institute’s student body). There, he would learn from the best France had to offer: Jules Massenet, Charles Gounod and Camille Saint-Saëns all served as tutors to the young wunderkind. He would make the acquaintance of one Maurice Ravel whilst at rehearsal, and by 1888 would gather up enough gumption to submit to the daily morning paper Le Figaro a composition he penned after a poem by writer Victor Hugo. It was a charming number called "Si mes vers avaient des ailes" (If my verses had wings) from Hugo’s Mes vers fuiraient, doux et frêles (1856), and would catapult the young star into Paris’s thriving artistic sector. Singers, authors and poets alike flocked to hear Reynaldo perform – perhaps most famously the French poet Paul Verlaine, who reportedly "wept to hear Hahn's songs" after attending a performance of the young composer’s setting of his poems (which Hahn had complied into the cycle “Chansons grises” in 1889). Leading music critic Stéphane Mallarmé was also present that day, and was so moved, he composed a stanza in honor of Reynaldo’s prowess:

Le pleur qui chante au langage
Du poète, Reynaldo
Hahn, tendrement le dégage
Comme en l'allée un jet d'eau

A life of impressive productivity would follow for Hahn, including a stint in the French Army (where he made the rank of corporal) and a successful bout as a music critic. Reynaldo would become so esteemed by the end of his highly decorated life, he even earned the trust of Geneviève Halévy, widow of French composer Georges Bizet, who gifted the musician with her late husband’s hitherto unperformed Symphony in C which Hahn later turned over to the Conservatoire – a generous and precious gift of thanks for the years of education spent there as a youth.

A man of many hats, Hahn would close out his remaining years as Director of the Paris Opéra until his death in 1947.

One thing remained certain, however – no matter how much success surrounded this illustrious icon (and it was plenty), Hahn never considered himself too big for his britches: he would continue, even in adulthood, to stick to his roots, accompanying himself on the piano – singing and performing his own work (and the works of those he admired), just as he had when he was a child - entirely unabashed by his less than operatic voice (in true Hahn fashion, it was still rather impressive).

Some 64 recordings of Reynaldo Hahn singing and playing the piano survive – a discography is available Department of Special Research Collections at the UC Santa Barbara Library, catalogued under the William R. Moran collection (much of which can be found on the album “Reynaldo Hahn Complete Recordings” available on amazon).

The recordings date from 1901-1934.

Listen below to Hahn perform the works of Emanuel Chabrier ("Toutes les fleurs," "Les Cigales," "L'ile heureuse") and his own "Offrande," and "Venezia - Chè pecà:"
 


- Rose.

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INSPIRATIONS: FAMOUS MUSICIANS WHO TRIUMPHED OVER DISABILITY feat. Did You Know?

Today’s installment of Inspirations draws not from external sources of muse-ical influence - such as through the lives and exploits of famous monarchs or through nail-biting moments in revolutionary history – but rather from the musicians themselves.

From composers to conductors and celebrated chanteurs, to musicians and musically gifted veterans of war, this inspirational edition presents to the reader a cornucopia of malady and misery, ultimately triumphed by an indomitable sense of passion and an optimistic perspective.

Without further ado, Unraveling Musical Myths presents some of Western Classical Music’s most gifted and perseverant masters of the musical arts:


THE UNSEEN BEAUTY IN BLINDNESS:

We all know Beethoven first began to experience the symptoms auditory paracusia whilst still in his productive years – a pre-cursor to a total loss of hearing which left the composer entirely deaf by the time he expired in late March of 1827.

What few remember is that two more famous composers of iconic stature – both Johann Sebastian Bach and George Frederick Händel – both fell victim to total sensory deprivation – in the form of blindness. In fact, Bach would tragically lose his eyesight – and his life - shortly after the master of the baroque attempted to remedy his failing vision by allowing the Quack “eye surgeon” (the Chevalier John Taylor) to operate on him – twice. Taylor's questionable methods left Bach completely blind after the first “surgery.” Four months after the second ‘operation’ the composer was dead – the victim of a stroke - allegedly directly caused by the botched operation and complications experienced during a very much delayed period of healing. Shockingly, Taylor would perform the exact same procedure in 1791 on Handel…who he also blinded.

Bach and Handel aren’t the only famous icons of classical music to have been stricken with blindness. One of the modern era’s most famous musical figures to share the same affliction is a household name – even in homes whose inhabitants may be unfamiliar with the musical genre.

Crossover tenor Andrea Bocelli is slated to
perform at the 2017 Presidential Inauguration
of President-Elect Donald Trump alongside
former television vocal contest participant-
turned-recording artist Jackie Evancho.
UPDATE: As of December 19 2016, New
York Post's Page Six is reporting Bocelli to
have "pulled out" from the Inauguration due
to "backlash." [Article]

That notable figure is the Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli. About to be born into this world one 1958 eve at a hospital in Lajatico, Italy, young Bocelli would have been completely unaware of the unfolding life-and-death drama surrounding his very existence as he lay safely within the confines of his mothers womb. His doting mother would have to make the most important decision of her – and her child’s - life: suffering from an acute state of appendicitis and being treated with the application of ice at the site of inflammation, the mother Bocelli was warned by physicians that the child presently in utero would almost certainly be born bearing a congenital defect – they persisted in pressuring Ms. Bocelli to undergo an abortion procedure.

She refused.

Bocelli, who would grow up to become one of classical music’s most popular crossover artists of all time – and who was born with congenital glaucoma, leading to eventual blindness in 1970 (after he was hit in the head by a football) – famously thanked his mother during a live television performance in 2010, professing both her bravery and optimism before a crowd of his adoring fans - telling the audience:

"The doctors had to apply some ice on her stomach and when the treatments ended the doctors suggested that she abort her child.

They told her it was the best solution because the baby would be born with some disability..but the young brave wife decided not to abort, and the child was born.

That woman was my mother, and I was the child… maybe I'm partisan, but I can say that it was the right choice and I hope that this could encourage many mothers who sometimes might find themselves in difficult situations but want to save the life of their baby."

Then there is the case of the famous blind pianist who conquered 18th century musical Europe – and perhaps even the heart of a little known composer by the name of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Maria Theresia von Paradis

Her name was Maria Theresia von Paradis. She performed before such esteemed characters as King George III and the Prince of Wales, and even received tutelage from maestros Antonio Salieri, Abbé Vogler, and Vincenzo Righini (for singing).

After briefly meeting – and performing with – Herr Mozart at the premiere of the then-12 year old’s opera Bastien and Bastienne – held at the home of the noted (and sometimes reviled, depending on which 18th century notable you would have asked) physician Dr. Franz Anton Mesmer (who had developed a close relationship with the child Paradis, then only 14), a lasting friendship between the two pubescent musical wunderkinds had officially been struck.

Mesmer, who sought a hefty payday by introducing the talented young pianist to Mozart and who then attempted to “cure” Paradis of the affliction of blindness which he felt was “psychosomatic” in nature – or “dictated by the unconscious” as he called it - would be instrumental in launching the girls' meteoric rise to fame.

There remains some debate about the etiology – perhaps even the legitimacy – of young Maria Theresia’s blindness. Paradis herself would add to the rumor mill with a rather ominous portent of her own, when she claimed to experience flashbacks of some suffocating force when required to reminisce upon on the onset of her loss of eyesight.

In any event, Paradis’ blindness – alleged or real – did not deter the young virtuoso. Mozart remained an ardent admirer of the young pianist, composing a concerto for piano, pianoforte and orchestra – allegedly for Maria Theresia – in 1784, which he titled Piano Concerto No. 18 in B-flat major, KV. 456.  Listen to a performance of the concerto below, performed by the reverent Murray Perahia:




POLIO MEETS AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE IN VIOLINIST ITZHAK PERLMAN

Israeli virtuosic sensation Itzhak Perlman – the modern era’s pre-eminent master of the violin, was destined for musical infamy – in spite of all odds that threatened to stack themselves against him...

THE CURIOUS CASE OF ADOLPHE “THE GHOST” SAX: ONE MAN'S RUMBA WITH THE REAPER

One couldn’t conjure up a more elaborate – even fantastical – life story than that of Belgian inventor and musician Adolphe Sax.

Born Antoine-Joseph in 1814 to instrument designer parents, young Adolphe (as he was referred to by his family) possessed an inherent knack for inventive ingenuity. Following in the footsteps of his parents, Adolphe – who had already mastered the art of playing both the flute and clarinet (he also sung at a professional level) – would enter into instrument-making competitions by the age of 15. His first entries? Why, the very instruments on which he currently played, of course – a flute and a clarinet, both made from scratch. By 24, Adolphe had patented his own improvement of the bass clarinet design - a lucrative personal hobby that would see him relocating to Paris and bearing witness to his inventions set up on display at exhibitions.

It seemed Sax had more than enough talent to grab the world by it’s tailfeathers – nothing, it seemed, could inhibit him from realizing his preordained destiny.

That would have been the case – had Adolphe’s life story concluded here. Unfortunately for the young musical tycoon, the harsh realities that often accompany notoriety and success were about to smack young Sax right across the face. Compounding Adolphe’s vitriolic reality check would be a string of luck so bad, it would appear to the casual observer that the innovative genius was in fact the victim of an evil curse.

Following Sax like a lecherous shadow during his otherwise overly productive youth were a series of near-fatal accidents – from drinking sulfuric water at the age of three to falling from a height of three stories and landing on his head; to nearly drowning after falling in a lake; burning himself in a gunpowder explosion, to falling into a red-hot cast iron brazier and on one frightful occasion nearly suffocating to death after being locked overnight in a room which was designated a storehouse for freshly varnished furniture. Young Adolphe seemed to teeter on the brink of oblivion: so convinced of his immortality were horrified spectators to Sax’s bizarre tango with the reaper that the locals dubbed him “the Little Ghost.”

A Saxophone produced by Adolphe Sax

It would be a name that would stick. Whilst simultaneously inventing and improving on instrument designs and dodging an early death, Adolphe was also busy creating his pièce de résistance: not an improvement on an already existing design – but instead creating, from scratch, an all-new, never-before-seen-or-heard instrument that could carry with it enough clout to solidify his legacy as an inventor and leave his indelible mark in the world’s history book. And leave his mark he certainly did: with the invention of a new woodwind-horn hybrid instrument he would name after himself – the saxophone.

Sax would introduce the saxophone to the world in Paris in 1845 before a massive crowd of some twenty-five thousand spectators – all of whom gathered to witness the exploits of the boastful Belgian, who had sent musical France into a tizzy when he openly mocked the instrumentation of the French military, enraging both French traditionalists, the military and the Government alike.

Weary of Sax winning over it’s more progressively cultured citizens, the French government, in a brazen attempt to humiliate the foreigner Adoplhe, made the curious decision of challenging the stalwart musician to a public display of his invention in which he would be required to perform before the already incensed French people. Adolphe, undeterred by the very real potential of falling flat on his face, abruptly called the government’s bluff.

On a balmy 22nd of April that year, Sax would take the hastily fashioned stage (on what the French undoubtedly hoped would serve as his gallows) solo – all seven of his hired musical accompanists having been threatened or paid off by the French to suddenly go AWOL in order to sabotage Adolphe’s performance.

He played anyway.

Much to the chagrin of the French elite, the saxophone – and its inventor – unexpectedly won over the crowd. Soon after Adolphe’s performance, all of Paris was abuzz with tales of this new, curious-sounding instrument.

Not everyone was a fan, however – the classical music sphere loathed the grating and squealing characteristics of the saxophone's sound, labeling it “indecent” and “immoral” - a consensus shared by the local authorities, and even the Catholic Church. 

*Click image to enlarge* Advertisement for the 1867 Paris International Exposition for which Sax won
1st Grand Prix de la Facture Instrumentale, displaying the saxophone and Sax's other inventions:
the 6-piston trombone and the Saxhorn.

So offended by it’s very presence were the saxophones critics, Adolphe himself became the target of hired assassins after he patented the instrument in 1846. His employees were bribed by competitors and made rogues, his manufacturing plant was set on fire – and for good measure, a bomb was placed under his bed. Just as he had survived catastrophe after catastrophe in his youth, Adolphe would successfully dodge all of the hits placed on his head.

The story - as one might deduce from reading an autobiography on Adolphe - or having known the man himself – does not end here for the hapless Mr. Sax. He would be forced into bankruptcy just ten short years after first débuting his instrument – the result of rivalrous instrument makers who drove the frazzled inventor into an extended period of litigation when they challenged the legitimacy of his patents in 1856. Soon after filing - and losing all of his earnings in the process – Sax would fall ill with cancer of the lip – twice: once in 1853 and again in 1858 – which, as you may have guessed, he survived (with a full recovery to boot).

Saxs’ all-clear in the physical health department wouldn’t come as much of a boon to the former musical trailblazer – Adolphe "the Ghost" Sax would perish in 1894 in abject poverty, having never recovered from his financial losses.

While the saxophone has never quite gained a prominent spot in the symphonic orchestra, its uniquely smoky registers have earned it praise from a small handful of prominent musicians. The French composer Hector Berlioz, for instance, wrote music for it, now lost ("The Hymne pour instruments de Sax"), calling it an instrument that “cries, sighs and dreams,” and Maurice Ravel – also a composer, and also French – famously employed the saxophone in his ever-popular one-movement orchestral piece Boléro. Listen to an absolutely thrilling performance of it below (Saxophone enters at 7:24 - but you are going to want to watch this video all the way through - from the beginning..prepare yourself for heart-racing, hair-raising ecstasy):



-Rose.

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C'EST L'HEURE EXQUISE!

Artist rendering of spacecraft Juno descending into deep orbit of the planet Jupiter
| NASA/Lockheed Martin |

On July 4, 2016, we, the collective civilians on earth listened to, or watched reports of the historic celestial "meetup" of spacecraft Juno, which launched half a decade ago from earth, on a drawn-out journey to make a highly anticipated date to tango with the planet Jupiter - that gas giant that, shockingly, allowed the craft to gain unprecedented access within it's radiation belt by allowing Juno to delve even deeper into the planet's orbit than had previously been thought possible.  The sweat-inducing final moments of Juno's behemoth journey was captured live on video and has been made available to the public by NASA. This coverage can be viewed below. 

Just as I had required whilst 'watching' the live feed of NASA's SUV sized Rover Curiosity landing on the surface of Mars four years ago, tissues were very much needed and were fortunately at the ready.  I highly recommend to you, the reader, to do likewise and have either tissues or handkerchief at hand whilst watching the below videos. The most moving and poignant moment, for me, was not so much the colossal achievement by man, but rather an awakening - an all encompassing awareness as I marveled at the infinite capabilities of mankind. That sentiment however, does not diminish in any way the scale of the spacecraft Juno successfully completing the first part of its megalithic mission..for it was at that precise moment of Orbit Insertion that such humble beings bore witness to a monumental moment of celebration: of a collective effort made toward a heroic enterprise - of reveling in the triumph of what was once little more than a grand idea set up against a vast tedium of unknowns, uncertainties. Of one thing mankind can be certain: that Juno's well-drawn out journey, which defied astronomical odds (quite literally) and yet somehow managed to complete the mission, is far from NASA's final hurrah: folks, we live in truly momentous times - in an age of epic discovery, advanced technology and a level of human perseverance that belies definition. Juno's entry into deep orbit on July 4, 2016 truly marks a moment of collective human genius, of passion, and is  testament that bespeaks of just what we are capable of as a people.


NASA'S "Live" feed of Juno entering into deep orbit of the planet Jupiter.

Now, all that remains in terms of JUNO is for space enthusiasts to continue to wait with bated breath to discover all of the data that the spacecraft is just waiting to unleash upon those inquiring minds across the globe. If you are a fan of the cosmos and of space endeavor like I am, dear reader, you too probably would have felt the wide range of emotions that surged without cessation for those many hard working engineers at NASA who made this epic ‘contact’ possible.

Reynaldo Hahn

I have selected to celebrate the occasion the French mélodie (no. V) “L’Heure Exquise” of 19th century French Romantic composer Reynaldo Hahn to mark this momentous occasion. 

Venezuelan (later turned French) composer, chanteur et polymath Reynaldo Hahn, the composer to this most excellent piece, may never have sat to pen his now infamous seven-piece mélodie (equivalent to Germany’s “Lieder” genre), known as Les Chansons Grise (Songs in Grey) had he too, not been open to explore the great beyond from his homestead at Caracas. ^{[see footnotes]}

Shortly after Hahn's arrival on Paris in 1877, the young singer/composer sat to compose a series of art songs, under the mélodie genre for his Chansons Grise. The song-cycle’s antepenultimate mélodie. "L’heure Exquise" (The Exquisite Hour) is highly emotive on a colossal scale, whilst simultaneously playing coy - it’s protagonist reflects on a most humbling scene - it’s mélodie, and the vocal timbre of it's chanteuse – remain tranquil, fully understated throughout, yet delivering to the masses an other-worldy aura of man and nature, of the present and the infinite.

A RARE OPPORTUNITY TO VIEW FOR THE FIRST TIME ON AMERICAN SOIL THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT OF DVOŘÁK'S CELLO CONCERTO IN B MINOR FOLLOWING ITS RECENT HISTORIC JOURNEY “HOME” TO NEW YORK CITY (feat. Did You Know?)

Antonín Dvořák

Visitors to the American cultural center in New York presently have the rare opportunity to view for the first time on American soil,* the celebrated Cello Concerto in B minor of 20th century Czech composer Antonín Dvořák, composed some 123 years ago from the iconic musician's U.S. home (since demolished) located in the heart of New York city at 327 East 17th Street - the very same house in which the temporary emigré composed his famous "From the New World" symphony.

Dvořák first arrived on U.S. soil on the 27th of  September 1892 following negotiations with the now defunct American National Conservatory of Music's founder and patroness Jeannette Thurber to take over the post of Director, which had begun one year earlier while the composer was still residing in Czechoslovakia.

He would begin his new position to the handsome salary of 15,000 USD (35,000 gulden) – thirty times the amount offered to him by the Conservatoire at Prague, and more than enough to ensure a lifetime of financial stability for the composer and his young family. Half of the salary was to be paid before Dvořák headed West, with the rest of the annual sum slated to be doled out in installments, with each installment scheduled to be paid and received by the composer one month in advance.

It would be toward the end of Dvořák's time in America that the now internationally celebrated composer would pen the cello concerto – moreover, it would be the last composition of the musician to have been completed in the country, and the last solo concerto he would compose.

Dvořák's 104th opus was written at the behest of the cellist Hanuš Wihan, who had repeatedly pressured Dvořák to compose a concerto for the instrument, requests that were consistently rejected. Dvořák had previously opposed the idea of a writing a solo concerto for the instrument, citing it's “nasal” high register and “mumbling bass:” (“it whinges up above, and grumbles down below.” )

Upon the completion of the work's first movement, the composer famously reflected upon his own bewilderment that he would have given in to Wihan, considering his distaste for the idea of composing such a piece for the instrument. In a letter to confidante Alois Gobl, Dvořák humorously quipped:

“I’ve just finished the first movement of a concerto for the cello!! Don’t be surprised; I was surprised myself, and I still wonder why I chose to embark upon something like this.”

It is quite likely that Dvořák had made the decision to relent following the successful run of the Cello concerto in E minor of fellow professor at the Conservatory, Victor Herbert, of which Dvořák had heard two satisfactory performances in 1894.

Hanuš Wihan would introduce
the idea of a cello concerto to
Dvořák - many of his attempts
were made in vain.

Much scandal world precipitate the premiere of Dvořák's Cello concerto in B minor prior to its debut in England on 19 March 1896. 

Antonín had wanted Wihan to perform the works' public debut as he had privately one year earlier in Lužany, however Francesco Berger, Secretary of the London Philharmonic Society, who had agreed to stage the world premiere in London, refused to postpone the concert to coincide with Wihan's downtime from touring with the Bohemian Quartet, of which the latter was contractually bound. The English cellist Leo Stern was to be hired in his stead.

A defiant Dvořák initially refused to attend the premiere, much to the “great embarrassment” and frustration of Berger. By now, word of the Czech composer's success in the USA had spread to Europe, and the news of an impending world premiere staged on English soil had led to much public anticipation. Placards and advertisements promoting the upcoming event, and of Dvořák's presence in London were abundant.

It was only at the (once more) behest of Wihan that Dvořák (again) relented. The composer agreed to supervise rehearsals with Stern in Prague until such time as Antonín felt assured of a successful performance.

By early March, all was settled, and the scheduled premiere was given the green light by the composer. Dvořák himself would conduct at the works' debut from London's Queen's Hall.

Two months following the successful premiere, Dvořák would leave New York for good – returning to Bohemia on the 27th of April, 1895.^[1]

The much valued original manuscript of Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor, presently housed at the Czech Center on New York's 321 E 73rd St., is a great boon to the city which the composer once called home. 

The preservation - or lack thereof - of historical artifacts related to the composer's tenure in the city has been a source of some conflict in the not too distant past.

A row between the Beth Israel Hospital and city's Landmarks Commission, backed by a coalition which included the President of Czechoslovakia Vaclav Havel, "Amadeus" director Miloš Forman, German conductor Kurt Masur and French-born Chinese-American cellist, Yo-Yo Ma famously ignited in the Big Apple in 1991 following the decision to redact the composers home on East 17th street from its Landmark status in order to build in its place a hospice for those suffering from AIDS.

The front facade of the since demolished
New York residence ofAntonín Dvořák,
who lived in the home from 1892-1895.

The decision to demolish the (albeit renovated) structure divided both the health and arts communities, many of whom belonging to the latter group felt themselves in a state of shock. For them, and for the Czech-American community, the home represented more than just a location in which a beloved icon composed his most celebrated works - to them, it also served as a symbol of resistance and a model of revolutionary spirit: just days after the silent attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, a solemn ceremony was held in the home in which domestic and foreign dignitaries, in addition to esteemed members of the musical arts community (including Bruno Walter, Fritz Kreisler and Arthur Judson) had gathered to voice an impassioned stance on progression in politics.

New York's residing mayor, Fiorello LaGuardia introduced the event, invoking the spirit of Dvořák:

“[he] produced much that will live forever, and his music will be played and his name will be honored when the names of Hitler, Mussolini, and the Mikado [sic] will be found only by referring to the criminal[s] ... of history.” 

These opening remarks were followed by a powerful testament by Jan Masaryk, Foreign Minister of the Czech Government-in-Exile and son of Czechoslovakia's first President, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk:

“We Czechoslovakians and Americans of Czechoslovakian descent swear by the memory of Dvořák that we will do everything in our power to help the new world, because by so doing we will help to compose the real 'new world symphony' of free people."

Masaryk's presence at the ceremony was no small matter: it was his father, alongside American President Woodrow Wilson who succeeded in establishing Czechoslovakia as an independent nation following WWI. Dvořák's home, and his success in America was very much symbolic of these endeavors. 

Dvořák's very presence as Director of Thurber's National Conservatory of Music - an elite institution that dared to celebrate the music of both women and African Americans was (and remains today) justly considered revolutionary for its time. His success in New York helped place Czech music (and as a result, Czechoslovakia itself) on the musical world map, and his public championing for the inclusion of "negro music" in the West effectively changed the color palette of Western classical music, and opened doors for composers of color and for the initiation of progressive, race and sex-tolerant discussion.

For Czech-Americans and fans of Dvořák, the return of the Cello Concerto to ground zero may serve as a reminder of the composer's legacy, both at home and abroad.

The manuscript will be on display at the Czech Center Gallery until November 9. It serves as the focal point of the month-long celebration at the institution of the founding of Czechoslovakia as an independent nation in 1918.^[2] 

*This will mark the first time in its history for the manuscipt to be viewed by the public. An early manuscript of the concerto made a quiet appearance in 2014 for a reserved audience of scholars and selected American cellists at the Czech Center.


Listen below to a breathtaking performance of Czech composer Antonín Dvořák's prized Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, B. 191. Cellist Jacqueline du Pré performs under Barenboim:

Did You Know?

London's Queen's Hall, where Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor held it's world premiere in 1896 was a forerunner of the English capital's renowned Royal Albert Hall.

It was the original home of the famous Proms concerts, and served as home base for both the BBC Symphony Orchestra and the London Philharmonic. Celebrated as the "musical centre of the Empire," it housed performances of major movers and shakers of late 19th and 20th century western classical music, including performances by Debussy, Elgar, Ravel and Richard Strauss.

The concert hall was destroyed by an incendiary bomb during WWII by German forces in an offensive strike that has become known as the London Blitz. Despite public outcry for the hall to be rebuilt, the English government declined. The annual Proms celebration would henceforth be moved to the Royal Albert Hall, with the general concert season being held at the Royal Festival Hall.

Footnotes:

^[1] A myriad of factors may have played a role in Dvořák's decision to leave the US. The composer is believed to have become homesick over his beloved Bohemia - greatly missing his children, who, with the exception of son Oskar who had traveled with Dvořák and his wife to New York, visited only on holidays.

Compounding Dvořák's already increasing anxiety was the unsettling news of the ill state of health that had befallen Josefina Kaunitzová – the composers sister-in-law and the former object of his romantic inclinations – who was in the final days of her life. Dvořák would honor the one time recipient of his courtship by inserting into the concerto a quotation from Kaunitzová's favorite song “Kéž duch můj sám” (Leave me Alone) from his Four Songs cycle (op. 82, no 1).

To make matters worse, America was bowing under the weight of its first major economic crisis to affect financial institutions (dubbed "The Panic of 1893"), the effects of which reached even the Conservatory board. As long term sponsors began to file out, so too did the remaining funds of Dvořáks salary.

In a series of letters written to confidante Emanuel Chvala in January 1895, Dvořák expressed his frustration over his situation and his yearning for more familiar ground:

“I will thank God when I am among my own people once more and perhaps sitting somewhere in the woods of Vysoka...In short, the best thing is to sit somewhere in Vysoka, it is the best place to recoup my energy, I’ll be able to rest and my happiness will be complete...We miss our children and we can’t wait to set sail again. Time goes slowly for us now, we go from day to day, counting how many of them we must strike off the calendar.”

^[2] Czechoslovakia, formerly under the clutch of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was officially proclaimed an independent entity in Prague on 28 October 1918 in the Smetana Hall of the Municipal House, to much patriotic sentiment.

 External links:

• News Article on manucript's return to New York - Radio Praha
• Archival material concerning "Dvořák House" from The New York Preservation Archive Project
• Archived article from the New York Times: "Dvorak doesn't Live Here Anymore," 7 March, 1991
• Pre-war footage of London's Queen's Hall, with post-war commentary (YouTube)
  

- Rose.  

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