TRIVIA & HUMOR (Fun Opera Facts part V) Feat. DID YOU KNOW?

It’s time for another installment of Mayhem Behind the Music: TRIVIA & HUMOR!

Today’s entry features a sizeable entrée of paranoia with a side of superstition for starters:


Good luck charms and trinkets, rituals, and an occasional dabbling in the occult has long been associated with the great operas and masters of classical music: from famed tenor Luciano Pavarotti’s famous handkerchief, which the dynamic singer employed as a good-luck charm; to Tchaikovsky’s fear over losing his head and his compulsive ritual of conducting with one hand clasped about his baton, and the other relegated to supporting his chin – to the desperate and depraved measures of Scriabin and 16th–17th century murderer-prince Carlo Gesualdo’s involvement with witchcraft, the history of Western Classical Music carries with it a motley brew of magumbo and sorcery.

Gustav Mahler

Superstition was the name of the game at the dawn of the twentieth century for famed Austrian composer Gustav Mahler. It was the year 1909, and Mahler had just put the finishing touches on his final ^[1] symphony Das Lied von der Erde.

The composer, ecstatic at completing his monumental work, sat for a tête-à-tête with his beloved spouse, Alma. His opus was complete, he informed his wife, and, in a manner most unusual for the stalwart composer, would be recorded in his books as a composition without a numerical assignation. The reason for Mahler’s reluctance to number his symphony (which was structured as such, with the integration of song) as No. 9 lay in the composer’s superstition and very real fear of the number as it related to music: 19th century composers Ludwig van Beethoven and Anton Bruckner, after all, had both perished upon penning their ninth symphonies,^[2]  with the latter composer failing to complete the work’s final movement before passing. Mahler, fearful of succumbing to the fates of his predecessors, subtitled his work as simply “Eine Symphonie für eine Tenor- und eine Alt- (oder Bariton-) Stimme und Orchester" ("A Symphony for Tenor, Alto and Large Orchestra”).

Fellow 20th century composer and triskaidekaphobic Arnold Schoenberg described for the public Mahler’s fear of the so-called “curse of the ninth” folklore in an essay on the superstitious composer:

“It seems that the Ninth is a limit. He who wants to go beyond it must pass away. It seems as if something might be imparted to us in the Tenth which we ought not yet to know, for which we are not ready. Those who have written a Ninth stood too close to the hereafter.”

Listen below to Das Lied von der Erde with mezzo-soprano Christa Ludwig & tenor René Kollo and the
Israel Philharmonic Orchestra under maestro Bernstein:


Footnotes:

^[1] Completed.
^[2] The so-called "Curse of the Ninth" was heavily based in folklore and highly problematic. Discover more at the following link: Curse of the Ninth (at Wikipedia)

Giuseppe Verdi

Speaking of curses popular in the world of western classical music, 19th century composer Giuseppe Verdi, himself a suspected target of malocchio, and the focal point for overzealous protection by an obsessed mob following a disastrous premiere of the composer’s early opera, Alzira, would find not only his own person and works assailed by a sinister invisible culprit during the composer’s lifetime, but would also fall victim to such subterfuge even in the many years following his death by stroke in late January of 1901. La Forza del Destino, Verdi’s famous 1862 Italian opera, would fall victim to superstition by chanteurs following an unfortunate incident at New York’s Metropolitan Opera House involving American baritone Leonard Warren in March of 1960, wherein the singer, upon readying himself to perform the cabaletta “Morir, tremenda cosa” (“To die, a momentous thing”) in the opera’s third act, abruptly broke out into a fit of coughing and gasping for air, before allegedly uttering a cry for help before collapsing dead to the floor.

Warren’s early death (he was 48 at the time of demise) by cerebral hemorrhage, prompted many a opera singer to conclude Verdi’s Forza to have been cursed, with tenor Luciano Pavarotti refusing the role of Don Alvaro altogether, and with others resorting to ritualistic 'means of protection:' famed Italian tenor Franco Corelli was said to have seized his genitals on an occasional performance (why that particular part of his anatomy was especially designated for protection remains unknown) as a means of warding off any bad magumbo.

Listen below to the aria that formed the basis of the Forza Curse, Morir, Tremenda Cosa, as performed by
baritone Renato Bruson:

Did you know?

Galileo Galilei

...that the celebrated 16th century Italian composer, lutenist and music theorist Vincenzo Galilei, master of the late Renaissance and revered as a revolutionary pioneer of the Baroque period had an even more famous, more venerated offspring? Galilei’s first-born son, sired in February in the year 1564, would grow up to become none other than world-renowned astronomer, physicist and household name Galileo Galilei – better known in the present era as simply “Galileo!”

Enjoy below Vincenzo Galilei's Contrappunto 24, Qual Miracolo Amore:

Orlando di Lasso

...that in spite of becoming the oracle of the mature polyphonic style of the so-named Franco-Flemish school and revered master musician of the late 16th century musical Europe, Netherlandish composer Orlando di Lasso (Roland/e de Lassus) endured very tempestuous first beginnings in the composer’s foray into the world of classical music?

Although much music and the unblemished reputation as an innovator survive into the present era, details of the early life of di Lasso remain somewhat obscure.

What is known to scholars of this period is that the late Renaissance composer suffered much indignity in his everyday life both on account of his many gifts and in spite of them. Entering into the realm of music at an early age,  Orlando di Lasso was encouraged by elders to join the choir of a local church. So polished was the young Orlando’s voice, it is said that the juvenile singer was twice kidnapped on account of it – perhaps to serenade those in whom he was held hostage, or to provide the criminals with an outlet to make a lucrative living as a performing act!

Things seemed to take a turn for the better when, by the age of 18, a teenage Orlando took up a post as maestro of music at Naples, which provided for the now young man a bridge to a more lucrative teaching position in Rome. His joy was however, short lived: shortly after arrival in the Italian capital Lasso was made aware of the poorly state his parents, who were both said to have been in ill health back in the Netherlands. Lasso set off for home immediately upon hearing the concerning news, but it was, alas, too late to bid his parents a fare thee well: both mother and father were discovered deceased on arrival.

Enjoy below the gorgeous Pslami Poenitentialis by late Renaissance master Orlando di Lasso:


Suggested Reading (External link): 

• Superstitions in the realms of Classical Music and Theater (at the Harold B. Lee Library at BYU)
  

 

Discover even more Trivia and Humor from the Mayhem Behind the Music: Trivia & Humor archives!

• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did you know? (Fun Opera Facts)
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? (Fun Opera Facts part II) 
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? RIOTOUS BEGINNINGS (Fun Opera Facts part III) 
• TRIVIA & HUMOR Feat. DID YOU KNOW? (Fun Opera Facts part IV)  

-Rose.

BACK TO HOME PAGE

TRIVIA & HUMOR: Fun Musical Facts VI (Feat. Did You Know?)

It’s time for another installment of MAYHEM BEHIND THE MUSIC: TRIVIA EDITION! Feat. Did you Know?

Today’s entry features an amusing cornucopia of insanity – from Antonio Vivaldi’s delightfully charming perfectionism to the violent wiles of a homophobic King who was literally losing his mind, with a sprinkling of Beethoven’s infamous rage (this time unleashed upon a member of the press) and a dash of racism to boot.

This may just be the most scandalous installment of MAYHEM yet! 

 We begin in Italy:

Did You Know?

…that the much beloved Four Seasons concerti (thought to be the world’s first tone poem collection), with it’s famously frenzied violin work, carried with it much in the way of performance instruction of the most humorous nature?

Italian baroque composer Antonio Vivaldi included alongside his score for the catchy work highly descriptive instructions for each movement, including directions for the viola to embody the sound of the composers “most faithful dog barking” in the second movement of “Spring,” and, as for the Adagio Molto in “Autumn?” why, that was to represent “drunkards who had fallen asleep” after a morning of getting hammered alongside their fellow peasants at a harvest celebration. 

Vivaldi, clearly catering to class perception of the time, notes in an additional accompanying sonnet for the concerto (there were sonnets for each of them - which the composer likely wrote himself):  

“The cup of Bacchus^[1] flows freely”

Celebrating the Fall season with Antonio Vivaldi’s L’autunno (Autumn): Concerto No. 3 in F major, Op. 8, RV 293 with Fabio Biondi and Europa Galante:


Footnote:
^[1]The god of wine. See Anacreon in Heaven at Unraveling Musical Myths

TRIVIA & HUMOR (Fun Opera Facts part IV) Feat. DID YOU KNOW?

It’s time for another installment of Mayhem Behind the Music: TRIVIA & HUMOR!

Let’s dive right in with a delightfully drôle exchange between 19th century Italian Composer Giuseppe Verdi and his publisher, one Giulio Riccordi after having received a chastising note from one very disgruntled fan.

VERDI VS. DISGRUNTLED FAN

It would be following two performances of Verdi’s Aida in 1872 that an outraged musical connoisseur by the name of Prospero Bertani would pen a scathing letter to the composer, professing his distaste for the work and demanding the proprietor of such filth reimburse him - not only for the value of the ticket – but also for his traveling expenses and a self-described “disgustingly bad dinner!"

Apparently, Verdi found this reaction rather comical,^[1] as we will see in this humorous exchange between composer and publisher Giulio Riccordi (to whom Verdi had forwarded the hate-mail):

Verdi’s Instructions to his publisher:

"St. Agata, 10 May 1872

Dear Giulio,

Yesterday I received from Reggio a letter which is so amusing that I am sending it to you, asking you to carry out the commission I am about to give you. Here is the letter:

Reggio, 7 May 1872

Much honored Signor Verdi,

On the second of this month, attracted by the sensation your opera Aida was making, I went to Parma. Half an hour before the performance began I was already in my seat, No. 120. I admired the scenery, listened with great pleasure to the excellent singers, and took great pains to let nothing escape me. After the performance was over, I asked myself whether I was satisfied. The answer was in the negative. I returned to Reggio and, on the way back in the railroad carriage, I listened to the verdicts of my fellow travelers. Nearly all of them agreed that Aida was a work of the highest rank.

Thereupon I conceived a desire to hear it again, and so on the forth I returned to Parma. I made the most desperate efforts to obtain a reserved seat, and there was such a crowd that I had to spend 5 lire to see the performance in comfort.

I came to the following conclusion: the opera contains absolutely nothing thrilling or electrifying, and if it were not for the magnificent scenery, the audience would not sit through it to the end. It will fill the theatre a few more times and then gather dust in the archives. Now, my dear Signor Verdi, you can imagine my regret at having spent 32 lire for these two performances. Add to this the aggravating circumstance that I am dependent on my family, and you will understand that his money preys on my mind like a terrible specter. Therefore I address myself frankly and openly to you so that you may send me this sum. Here is the account:

Railroad, going: 2.60
Railroad, returning: 3.30
Theatre: 8.00
Disgustingly bad dinner: 2.00

Twice: 15.90

Total: 31.80

In the hope that you will extricate me from this dilemma,

I am yours sincerely,

Bertani

My address: Bertani, Prospero; Via St. Domenico, No. 5.

Imagine, if to protect a child of a family from the horrible specters that disturb his peace, I should not be disposed to pay that little bill he has brought to my attention! Therefore by means of your representative or a bank, please reimburse 27.80 lire in my name to this Signor Prospero Bertani, 5 Via St. Domenico. This isn't the entire sum for which asks me, but... to pay for his dinner too! No. He could very well have eaten at home!!! Of course he will send you a receipt for that sum and a note, by which he promises never again to go to hear my new operas, to avoid for himself the danger of other specters and for me the farce of paying him for another trip [...]”

The hilarious back-and-forth continues between composer and publisher as Riccordi, also very much amused, sends for a “correspondent” to pay the sum “owed” to the disgruntled fan. Riccordi happily informs Verdi of a delightful exchange between correspondent and Mr. Bertani in which the comical critic informs the messenger:

“If Maestro Verdi reimburses me, this means that he has found what I wrote him to be correct...”

The whimsical communiqué concludes with a promissory contract by Bertani to Verdi, in which he agrees to

“…undertake no trip to hear any of the Maestro's new operas in the future, unless he takes all the expenses upon himself, whatever my opinion of his work may be.”

Now that is what I call comedy gold!

Footnote:

^[1] So amused were Verdi and Riccordi at this most unusual exchange, composer and publisher would forward the letter to the local newspapers, wherein fan and foe alike could regale upon the fate of Aida as according to Mr Bertani in a true exchange of rag-piece for rag-piece!

JOHANNES BRAHMS VS. CERTAIN DEATH 

This 19th century German composer left behind a remarkable legacy as one of the greatest composers to have ever walked the face of the earth. Revered even in contemporary times as an innovative genius (renowned conductor Hans von Bülow would famously “create” the group of the "Three Bs" - a collective gathering of composers par excellence for the classical enthusiast - which also included Johann Sebastian Bach and Ludwig van Beethoven).

What Brahms didn’t leave behind was a legal will.  It was Brahms’ intention to donate his fortune to societies that would aid indigent musicians, however this was never documented in any official format. 

It seems an aging Brahms (he was 63 when he died) was surrounded by some rather shady individuals in his final years:

it had been reported shortly after the composers death that a fatal case of cancer of the liver - although known to very close companions of the musician, including, shockingly, several physicians who had attended to him - was kept a closely guarded secret within Brahms inner circle. So well guarded, in fact, was this secret that those closest to the composer (including his physician) failed to inform Brahms of the serious nature of his illness, preferring the composer continue to create revenue by composing - whilst completely in the dark about his own mortality - until the very end.

Scandalous!

FLARING TEMPERS: BEETHOVEN VS. CHEF and LULLY VS. VIOLIN… VS. MUSICIAN

We have all heard of the vast and varied and very infamous stories relating to Beethoven and his alleged fiery temper: from turning over his apartment in a crazed “Rage over a Lost Penny” to the over-bearing composer forcing the marriage of his brother Johann to the latter’s employee, Therese Obermayer on the threat of arrest (the pair had been illegally shacking up together) - but who among us hasn’t been known to let off a little steam from time to time?

For Beethoven, particularly in his later years, sudden explosions of rage would become synonymous with the ailing composer, who only grew more temperamental as he began to experience the onset of deafness midway though a most exemplary career.

In one rather humorous instance (although one can be sure it was not very funny to the composer or his ‘victim’ at the time), Beethoven took out his frustrations on a household cook who had the misfortune of bringing to the composer stale eggs, which an angry Beethoven proceeded to pelt him with! This one sided-food fight was not an isolated occurrence: the composer would soak a waiter in a bowl of soup by pouring it over the unfortunate servers head after he accidentally brought the perfecting musician a consommé that was too cool on the tongue.

As outrageous as Beethoven’s angry exploits may have been, at least they didn’t involve human to human combat – much unlike 17th century Italian composer Jean-Baptiste Lully, who once befell so outraged at an inept performance by a member of his orchestra, he ripped the fiddle from the unfortunate musician’s hands, and smashed him over the head with it, shattering the instrument to pieces!

HAYDN’S SUPERNATURAL EXPERIENCE:

Performance of "Creation" in the ballroom of the University of Vienna on March 27, 1808 in the honor and presence of Joseph Haydn | Vienna Museum

In the year 1808, just one year shy of the death of this 19th century master of the Classical Era, Austrian composer Joseph Haydn would attend a concert given in his honor at Vienna. On the day’s billing would be Haydn’s own oratorio “The Creation.”

During a most seminal moment in the oratorio’s performance in which the words “Let there be light – and there was light…” was sung, the day that “had been overcast…with skies [above] lowering and threatening…” was suddenly broken by the sun, which “burst forth in full splendor and flooded the hall with light…” at which point the entire attending audience, awestruck, turned to face the composer, who at once leapt from his seat, pointed to the heavens and cried out “It came from there!”

Did You Know?

Not all of our most beloved composers of yore started out their careers on a silver platter.

It is a well known fact that many a composer died in poverty, but did you know that just as many were born and/or discovered as paupers?

Jean-Baptiste Lully was just one such case. The French Baroque musician would rise to astronomical proportions within the court of Louis XIV of France, even securing for himself the much coveted position as Secrétaire Du Roi (Royal Secretary) and Surintendant de sa Musique (Superintendent of Music for the King’s Chamber) in the mid-17th century. Such placements and honorifics were a far cry from Lully’s most humble beginnings as a servant in the kitchen of one Mademoiselle de Montpensier, niece of the Chevalier de Guise, Roger de Lorraine.

Discover even more Trivia and Humor from the Mayhem Behind the Music: Trivia & Humor archives!

• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did you know? (Fun Opera Facts)
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? (Fun Opera Facts part II) 
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? RIOTOUS BEGINNINGS (Fun Opera Facts part III) 

-Rose.

BACK TO HOME PAGE

MAYHEM BEHIND THE MUSIC VIII: TRIVIA & HUMOR - A DOSE OF AMERICANA & A BRITISH BOWWOW

It’s time for another installment of MAYHEM BEHIND THE MUSIC: Trivia & Humor.

This edition examines some rather curious American inventions and humorous innovations, a famous father-son rivalry – and an even more famous little mutt by the name of Nipper.

Featuring a rowdy premiere that could stand toe-to-toe with Stravinsky’s infamous riot in Paris.

WHAT A BUNCH OF DANDIES...

A "Yankee Doodle" - riding on a pony.

We begin in the good ole U.S. of A - in a little town named Lexington, in the “Bay State” of Massachusetts. It is the 19th day of April in the year 1775. As a band of British troops presently serving on North American soil march northwestward from Boston to Lexington and Concord, the high-pitched ring of a fife and the rat-a-tat-tat of drums can be heard playing most jovially through the temperate spring air. Rising over both flute and drum are the rousing voices of the Brits, singing a mocking air about the plight of the dandy – the Yankee Doodle Dandy to be precise. The crude lyric “stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni” a direct assault on the American colonials obsessed with dressing the part of a finely manicured - and most effeminate - Italian gentleman and foolishly attempting to adopt his perfecting aires. The Brits, it seemed, had a running joke - so uncouth was the American – so much of a refined wannabe was their innermost desire (running around spouting off catch Italian phrases in an effort to appear more cultured in addition to adopting their dress) – that the Brits began to refer to them as “Macaronis.”

When the Americans heard the offending satirical song rising up over the plains, they reacted not with a sense of vitriol, but rather turned the Brits - and their mocking joke - on its head, by repeating the song – mocking lyrics and all - back to the enemy amidst rebel fire. Proudly adopting the crude humor of the Brits in a charmingly self-deprecating manner, the Americans would again serenade the Europeans – when the Brits were forced to surrender at Saratoga and Yorktown.

Kind of makes the Yankee’s adoption of the crass "To Anacreon in Heav’n" seem all the less ironic in retrospect.

^{[Fun Fact]} Now considered a patriotic air, "Yankee Doodle" can be heard most often in the northeastern state of Connecticut - where it serves as state anthem! Listen to a recording of the famous tune below:

THE TRIUMPHANT BIRTH OF A FOUNDING FATHER'S MOST MUSICAL CHILD:

Benjamin Franklin seated at his glass armonica

13 years earlier to the Southwest, American Founding Father and future President of Pennsylvania Benjamin Franklin was busy making music history with the creation of a new instrument similar in sound to the celesta which he would dub "the glass armonica" – a curious looking contraption consisting of thirty seven glass bowls attached to a spindle which could be spun via a foot pedal to produce an eerily crystalline resonance reminiscent of wet fingers circling the rims of various sized wineglasses (which is exactly how Franklin came up with the idea after first hearing a demonstration of this technique at a concert in 1761).

The glass armonica would win the praise of some notable physicians in the both the American medical sector and overseas who lauded it’s (alleged) soothing abilities for those stricken with melancholia (a supposition later proven to be false when the safety of the instrument was roundly bashed in it's own revised operating manual in 1788 - which would lead to the glass armonica becoming temporarily banned in Germany as a preventative precaution against potential madness - or even succumbing to an untimely death).   

Talk about a turnaround...

Whether friend or foe to the new instrument, one thing remained certain: the glass armonica created quite the stir in the musical sphere. Even major composers would express interest in Franklin's invention - a few even wrote music for it – the most famous of which can be heard below: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Adagio & Rondo for glass harmonica in C minor:

TAKE THAT BARK ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK...

The Brits would once more leave an indelible mark on Western Americana – and indeed on the rest of the world – via a curious little mutt named Nipper – a Jack Russell mix who hailed from Bristol, England. When Nipper (named after his naughty penchant for ‘nipping’ at the heels of visitors to his masters home) unexpectedly died in 1895, just seven years after his owner Mark Henry Barraud passed, Baurrad's surviving brother Francis decided he would pay tribute to both master and mutt by painting a portrait of Nipper, his head curiously cocked to one side – sitting most intently before a wind-up Edison-Bell cylinder phonograph – a music player inherited from his late sibling.

The painting, completed in 1898, might also serve as a means to make a quick profit for the brother Barraud. Francis would present the portrait to James E. Hough, manager at the Edison-Bell Company in New Jersey USA, who promptly rejected it on the basis that “Dogs don't listen to phonographs.”

Undeterred, Francis took the portrait back to London, to the Maiden Lane offices of The Gramophone Company where he would be met with an unexpected surprise - Manager William Barry Owen would buy the painting – provided Barraud replace the portrait’s old-fashioned Edison cylinder phonograph with their brand new Berliner Disc Gramophone – the latest in musical technology. An astonished Francis readily obliged, painting a revised edition he dubbed “His Master’s Voice” in 1890 which he sold to Owen for 100 pounds sterling (50 pounds for the copyright and to grant Berliner leave to register the trademark phrase for use in the United States; and 50 pounds for the painting). The Victor Talking Machine Company would promptly adopt the now infamous logo that year, followed by HMV,  the Radio Corporation of America (RCA) and RCA Victor in 1929.

Today, you can find Nipper adorning the labels of the following brands: Victor Talking Machine Company, Gramophone Company, Berliner Gramophone, His Master's Voice, HMV, EMI, RCA, RCA Victor, Victrola, Electrola, Bluebird, Zonophone, JVC and Deutsche Grammophon.

MEANWHILE, BACK IN EUROPE...

STRAVINSKY WHO?

On a hot summer’s eve in 1830’s Belgium, a riot was about to erupt at the Théâtre de la Monnaie that would rival Igor Stravinsky’s spectacularly rowdy première in early twentieth century Paris.

The opera produced for the evening was Daniel Auber’s La Muette de Portici – a patriotic tale of revolutionary spirit that depicted a poor man’s uprising against the powerful Spanish rulers occupying Naples. It was a curious choice of libretto for the French composer, who chose to stage it as an homage to the United Kingdom of the Netherlands' (to which Belgium then belonged) reigning King, William I during the King William I Festival launched in celebration of the 15th year of His Majesty's reign. Apparently Auber hadn’t received the memo that a pre-ordained revolt had been scheduled to take place on the eve of La Muette’s performance at the Theatre – nor did it appear that the Frenchman possessed any idea whatsoever that William was, to many of the citizens of Belgium, a tyrannical oppressor.

As La Muette sauntered into its second act – and right before the duet "Amour sacré de la patrie" could get it’s first notes off the ground, the theater abruptly erupted into chaos. One contemporary eyewitness account details the horror that unfolded that fateful evening:
 

"When Lafeuillade and Casscl began singing the celebrated duet. "Amour sacre de la patrie" enthusiasm exploded irresistibly and [the singers] found it necessary to start afresh in the midst of the cheering. Finally, when Masaniello (Lafeuillade) launched into his entreaty, the invocation "Aux Armes!," the public could no longer be restrained. They acclaimed aria and actor, they booed the fifth act in order to stop the performance, and the delirious crowd [hurled itself] out of the hall... welcomed by the other crowd which waited outside, it joined in the demonstrations which loosed the revolution of 1830."

As raised voices became lost in the calamitous fray and fists began to fly freely from man to man, newly formed mobs who were freshly energized by the riot in the theater took to the streets of Brussels, looting local businesses and laying waste to factories, destroying the machineries found inside. The uprising would quickly spread throughout the country.

If Stravinsky sought any form of comfort after the infamous riot at the rite in 1913, he needn’t have looked any further than Auber.. his predecessor in social outrage.

Speaking of outrage, Did You Know?


Composer-King Frederick the Great wasn’t the only musician to have been corporally punished by his father for daring to dream of a life spent making music.

The newly-crowned "King of the Waltz"
Johann Strauss.. Junior, thankyouverymuch.

Viennese "Waltz King" Johann Strauss the elder famously sparred with his son – also named Johann (the second) – when the boy had the audacity to take up the violin. No son of Strauss’ was going to dare try to take his father’s place – no, not for young Johann. The father Strauss demanded his son take up a “more respectable” vocation: in matters of law or in finance. Much like the King of Prussia, who was soundly cane-whipped across the arse by an enraged father when he was discovered practicing on his trusty flute in secret, a young Johann would receive regular beatings at the end of a three-tailed whip from Johann Sr. for his transgression of stealing away for private lessons on his violin. This cruel form of corporal punishment was immediately preceded by the elder Strauss warning his son that he would "beat the music" out of him.

Johann Jr., however, was undeterred by his fathers malevolence – by age 19, he bravely informed his father of his intent to not only compose, but also to publicly stage a waltz – to which his father unceremoniously scoffed “you have no idea how to write a waltz!”

The senior Strauss took matters even further, hiring a rowdy band of claquers to rise from the audience and hiss. He even rounded up a bunch of brutes to surround the casino where his sons concert was being held in order to incite a riot. Much like in the case of Stravinsky, police had to be called to disperse the crowds.

So much for blood being thicker than water.

Listen below to what is perhaps the most famous waltz of all time, Johann Strauss Junior's "Blue Danube":


Did you know?

...that the United States National Anthem “The Star Spangled Banner” has some salaciously scandalous, rather comical - and very British - roots?

Anacreontick's in full Song by caricaturist James Gillray.

Upon revisiting the powerful, testosterone fueled lyrics and melody that makes this Anthem truly one of the worlds most impacting and instantly memorable tunes, the average Partiot would feel quite the sense of irony upon discovering that the melody of the “Star-Spangled Banner” is not only English (and not American as most previously believed), and as for it’s lyrics...well..let's just say, they were less than patriotic. 

Originally titled “To Anacreon in Heav’n,” the true progenitor of what we now know as The Star Spangled Banner was in fact nothing more than a lewd drunkard's tune,  one that was so frequently sung by the often raucous and inebriated members of a special "Gentleman's Club," that it became the club's official drinking song! The name of the 15th century men's only pub? "The Anacreon" making the current anthem an Ode to Freedom and Democracy, and it's grandfather's an Ode to "Free Lovin' " and Drink! ^{[Fun Fact]}

The Anacreontic Song (Listen to the song below):

"To Anacreon in Heaven, where he sat in full glee,
A few sons of harmony sent a petition,
That he their inspirer and patron would be;
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian:
Voice, fiddle, and flute, no longer be mute,
I'll lend you my name and inspire you to boot
And besides I'll instruct you like me to intwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

–Words by Ralph Tomlinson, music by John Stafford Smith, C.1775.

Read more history on the anthem here, including details on Stravinsky’s near arrest and Wagner’s Tannhäuser overture! (which I’ve always ‘heard’ –at least in similarity- to “...so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming…”)



Footnotes:

Flag of the United States of America

^{[Fun Fact]} Anacreon was an ancient Greek poet who was known to boast proudly as an advocate of drink and held a special penchant for sex in his -ahem - heart. In essence, "To Anacreon in Heaven" is actually a tribute, or an ode to a sex crazed, famous alcoholic! (Note the rather raunchy repetitive: "And besides I'll instruct you like me to intwine / The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine," "Venus" being the goddess of love, and "Bacchus" the god of wine).

For the modern listener/reader, To Anacreon in Heaven's text may appear, at first listening, a rather chaste song paying homage to some ancient Greek gods. Digging a little deeper into the characters featured the music, and into the inspiration source of it's authors melody and lyrics and one will find a litany of lewd and lascivious innuendo that would make your mother blush. Read the full text of "To Anacreon in Heaven" here (external link).

For more stories like these, check out the Mayhem archives listed below.

• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did you know? (Fun Opera Facts)
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? (Fun Opera Facts part II) 
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? RIOTOUS BEGINNINGS (Fun Opera Facts part III) 
• TRIVIA & HUMOR Feat. DID YOU KNOW? (Fun Opera Facts part IV)   
• TRIVIA & HUMOR: Feat. Did You Know? (Fun Opera Facts part V)
• TRIVIA& HUMOR: Feat. Did You Know? (Fun Opera Facts part VI) 
• MAYHEM BEHIND THE MUSIC Feat. Did You Know? (Mayhem part VII)

More Mayhem!

• CLASSICAL MUSIC & OPERA: THE MAYHEM BEHIND THE MUSIC 
• MAYHEM BEHIND THE MUSIC: THE HOAX ON YOU  (Feat. Did You Know?)

-Rose.

BACK TO HOME PAGE

MAYHEM - TRIVIA & HUMOR XI: APPEARING SOON

Installment XI coming soon

Good news! 

The eleventh installment of reader favorite series "Trivia & Humor" is currently in the works! 

As usual, Unraveling Musical Myths will explore the dark and often dirty demi-monde of Western Classical Music and Opera: the forthcoming edition will feature the expected cast of operatic bad boys, inept psychoanalysis, a smattering of the "supernatural," and perhaps, even a soupçon of anti-Semitic behavior freshly extracted from the bowels of musical hell. 

In the interim, take a stroll down the debauched side of pomp and circumstance by visiting the Trivia Archives.

Below: David Tudor performs John Cage's 4'33"


-Rose.

BACK TO HOME PAGE

CLASSICAL MUSIC MAYHEM VII Feat. Did You Know? CURSES & HEXES, HOMICIDE, ATTEMPTED MURDER, THUGGERY and FRAUD!

It’s time again for another installment of CLASSICAL MUSIC MAYHEM feat. Did You Know?

Today’s post features a sordid romp through the dark underbelly of the otherwise pristine world of Western Classical Music. Forget Dante’s Virgil: the following naughty little devils looked to Beelzebub himself as a guide through the blazing inferno of hell – boasting such bestial sin as

CURSES & HEXES, HOMICIDE, ATTEMPTED MURDER, THUGGERY and FRAUD!

We begin in that most metropolitan of cities, New York, NY:

IRONIC DEATHS

“Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore …
e diedi il canto agli astri, al ciel!,
…perché, Signor, ah, perché me ne rimuneri così?”

[I lived for art, I lived for love... and offered songs to the stars and to heaven!
…why, Lord, ah, why do you reward me thus?]

–Tosca’s aria, Tosca, Puccini

News article concerning Versalle's
death, New York Times.

American Baritone Leonard Warren wasn’t the only famous singer to suffer an ironic fatality mid performance. In January of 1996, another American performer met an untimely end on the operatic stage, seconds after belting out a line from the work’s libretto that seemed to be written exclusively for him. The performer was the 63-year old tenor Richard Versalle, the opera was the MET premiere of Leoš Janáček's "The Makropulos Affair." The line: “too bad you can only live for so long” proved to be the tenor’s last words: immediately after singing the nine ominous lyrics from atop a 10 foot ladder, Versalle crashed to the floor, unconscious. He was pronounced dead shortly after arrival at St Luke’s Roosevelt Hospital.

What makes Versalle’s untimely demise perhaps even more ironic than Warren’s, who also met his end at New York’s Metropolitan Opera House some 36 years prior – collapsing dead on the very same stage seconds after belting out the lyric "to die, a momentous thing!” from Verdi’s La Forza – was the subject matter of Janáček’s opera itself: The plot of The Makropulos Case concerns a certain diva, who, after ingesting a life-extending elixir some 337 years prior, notices the concoctions promise of eternal youth and immortality is beginning to weaken, making her demise all but an utmost certainty.

Talk about a theatrical ending! 

New York City wasn’t the only home of the ironical. I’d be remiss if I neglected to mention the infamous passing of the French playwright and actor Molière in Paris, during his famous – and final – performance on stage - whilst starring in his own ballet, appropriately titled La Malade Imaginaire (The Imaginary Invalid): a collaboration with the 17th century composer Marc-Antoine Charpentier.

The three act comédie-ballet featured Molière himself as a typical hypochondriac – believing himself to be assailed by numerous illnesses, subjecting himself to countless amounts of enemas and weary of suffering an untimely demise. Dressed in medical smock and bandaged, the actor hacked and coughed his way through the performance – all a part of playing the character of an invalid – or so those in the audience thought. What attending patrons – and perhaps even Molière’s fellow actors on the stage with him didn’t know – was that the hacking and coughing by Molière wasn’t acting at all – the playwright was actually stricken with consumption (pulmonary tuberculosis), and was in fact, coughing up very real phlegm and blood. The stubborn actor insisted (to himself) on finishing his performance, come hell or high water. Hell would come soon enough, when the playwright collapsed on stage due to a massive hemorrhage. He would succumb to another, even larger hemorrhage backstage, which ultimately ended his life.

Molière's famous death is depicted in the 2000 French masterpiece, Le Roi Danse:



A FINAL RECORDING, A FITTING FAREWELL:

This last entry into Ironic Deaths is more decidedly felicitous – and features one of the most gifted heldentenors the world had yet known in 20th century Swedish performer Jussi Björling...

TRIVIA & HUMOR XII: PUTTING THE "GROSS" IN ANATOMY; GETTING DOWN AND DIRTY WITH THE BIG BOYS

It's high time for another installment of TRIVIA & HUMOR. In this, Unraveling Musical Myth's 12th journey behind the scenes of Western Classical music's lives of centuries past, we once more indulge into the sometimes horrifying, almost always hilarious harems of hell on earth in which our beloved icons of yore so greatly enjoyed (or, in some instances, recoiled from).

Without further ado, I present to the reader TRIVIA & HUMOR XII:

German composer Richard Wagner may not have been triskaidekaphobic (as far as we know). However, according to a statistician living in 1895, the vast multitude of incidences in which the Number 13 would make an appearance in the controversial composer's life would have been sufficient enough grounds to make Schoenberg faint dead away like a groupie at a Liszt concert.

Here are more than a few instances in which the number occurs throughout Wagner’s work/life, as recounted by author Willey Francis Gates from the calculations of a “statistically inclined writer” living in the 19th century:

Of course we see what we want to see, and much of this is a stretch – like picking at straws, but a clever anecdote nonetheless:

• Born 1813: The sum of the figures in 1813 equals 13. (1+8=9; 1+3=4: 9+4=13)  Died on the 13th day of February, 1883

• The full date of his death was the 13th day of the 2nd month in ’83. It makes 13 twice: first the day of death: 13; and again in the 2nd month of the year (February: 2+ 8+3 =13)

• There are 13 letters in the name Richard Wagner

• Wagner composed 13 operas (music dramas)

• His decision to pursue a dramatic career was formed on the 13th day of the month; he was influenced in changing his format after hearing Carl Maria von Weber’s "Der Freischütz,” which, in it’s entirety (famous overture included) was completed on the 13th May 1820; it’s first appearance at Dresden, home to Wagner, was in 1822 (1+8+2+2=13).

• Weber died in Wagner’s 13th year

• Wagner’s first appearance as a “musical personage” occurred in 1831 (1+8+3+1=13) during his tenure as a music student at Leipzig.

•  He would become director of the stage at Riga, which opened its doors on the 13th day of September, 1837; it was here that Wagner began to compose his early opera “Rienzi,” completed in Paris some 3 years later in 1840 (1+8+4+0=13)

•  On April 13, 1844, Richard completed Tannhauser, which was performed in Paris on March 13 1861

•  By 13th of august in the year 1876, Wagner began the first presentation of the “Bayreuth Dramas,” the Nibelungen Ring.;” the last day at “Bayreuth” was on 13th of September 1882

• Wagner would be forced into exile from Saxony for a total of 13 years

• Richard would visit his father in law, Franz Liszt for the last time in Venice on January 13th, 1883, before dying on the 13th of February, in the 13th year of the new German Confederation.

Whew!

In keeping on the subject of all things Wagner, allow me to re-introduce the reader to some rather famous scandals that rocked the life of the erudite composer:

FISTFIGHT AT WAGNER PREMIERE: 

It seemed Wagner was destined for controversy almost from the beginning. The premiere of his second opera Das Liebesverbot was already off to a poor start for then relatively unknown composer, with a lead singer resorting to reciting a load of gibberish after failing to remember his lines.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the second performance had to be cancelled altogether following a pre-show backstage row – complete with fists and curses – courtesy of the works’ lead tenor and the husband of the opera's Prima Donna. Wagner fully intended to see the performance through after having quelled the violent scuffle, yet, much to his embarrassment, when the curtain finally arose, both composer and orchestra were greeted to an audience only 3 patrons strong. Humiliated, Wagner never again attempted to stage this opera during his lifetime.

FUN FACT: Fist fights were no stranger to Richard Wagner; in fact, in the composer’s personal autobiography Mein Leben (written at the request of Wagner patron King Ludwig II of Bavaria in 1865), Wagner describes a real-life experience of mistaken identity and a near-riot that made such a frightening impression on him, he would later incorporate the experience into the second act of his 1862 music drama Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg in which the diarist relates:

"Out of this situation evolved an uproar, which through the shouting and clamour and an inexplicable growth in the number of participants in the struggle soon assumed a truly demoniacal character. It looked to me as if the whole town would break out into a riot...Then suddenly I heard a heavy thump, and as if by magic the whole crowd dispersed in every direction...One of the regular patrons had felled one of the noisiest rioters.... And it was the effect of this which had scattered everybody so suddenly."

-Richard Wagner, Mein Leben

HIERONYMUS BOSCH: "BUTT MUSIC"

Back in 2015, the worldwide press erroneously labeled Oklahoma Christian University student Amelia Hamrick as having “discovered" a formerly “unnoticed" fraction of a 'musical' score on the backside of a man, positioned fanny-up (that's derrière, to you naughty folks in the U.K) in Dutch/Netherlandish Painter Hieronymus Bosch’s infamous triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights.

Certainly I, and many fans of this peculiar work have pondered the mystery of the “formerly unnoticed score” – hint: we noticed – long ago: in fact, speculation as to the meaning of the music has been a hot topic amongst artistic circles since the renewed interest in the Dutch artists' work peaked during the height of the Surrealist Movement in the 20th Century. Likely, it sparked interest in it's heyday as well.

The famous triptych, so named after it’s middle panel, is said to be a depiction (from left panel to right) of Paradise, Purgatory (debated), and finally, Hell. It is in the right panel (the portion that covers the subject matter of this post both cropped and highlighted for the viewer) that one finds the oddest of material: some say the proliferation of nude men and women engaging in destructive behavior (our “Butt” man is seen being crushed by a giant lute and harp, his derrière and legs protruding underneath the instruments) as being symbolic of Bosch’s distaste for worldly lust, and their inevitable path to hell through displaying such lewd and loose behavior.

Whilst the Oklahoma grad may not have been the first to “notice” the music on the “butt” of the figure, she was perhaps the most recent musician to draw a large public interest in what scholars of the era refer to as "faux notation." Reveling in her newfound fame, Hamrick told her followers on social media site Tumblr:

“I decided to transcribe it into modern notation, assuming the second line of the staff is C, as is common for chants of this era,”

Hamrick titled the score “The 500-Year-Old Butt Song from Hell.”

Whilst we can thank Hamrick for attracting the attention of newer generations to both Bosch and the idea of Gregorian chant, this subject has been thoroughly debated for some time. That the notation is Gregorian or that it is 'music' at all has been contested publicly for some time, and Hamrick's claims have caused controversy with previous 'transcribers.' 

Early music aficionado and musician Ian Pittaway offered an excellent rebuttal (no pun intended) on his personal blog in May 2021. Extensively researched, and with exquisite attention to detail, Pittaway reminded his readers of a 2003 album release by Swedish musicians Vox Vulgaris (titled The Shape of Medieval Music to Come) who claim to have been the first to "transcribe" the 'music', which, Pittaway is apt to point out, has also proven false, with transcriptions appearing in 1961 (by J. Lenneberg in ‘Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights: Some Musicological Considerations’, Gazette des Beaux-Arts), in 1978 (in an album release by Atrium Musicae titled Codex Gluteo), and in 1981 (by Laurinda S. Dixon, Professor in the Department of Art and Music Histories, Syracuse University in Alchemical Imagery in Bosch’s Garden of Delights, (UMI)) respectively.

That the music is not music at all, but rather "faux notation" is a theory bolstered by the absence of a clef on the buttocks, without which no definite pitch can be ascertained.  Pittaway offers a convincing alternative to the "Gregorian chant" claim, identifying the notation as a mere imitation of Strichnotation, described by the author as "...an imprecise form of written music that gives very little or no indication of rhythm, with a staff which gives an indication of the pitch of notes relative to one another, but no indication of the actual pitch, which makes any interpretation guesswork." 

Pittaway's response may be read in full by clicking here.

Below: Hamrick performs her own take on the so-called "Butt Music" of Bosch: (also check out the transcriptions of other modern day musicians, who have based their material on Hamrick's transcription on YouTube.

ERIK SATIE: VIGILANT HOARDER BY DAY, MANIACALLY EN GARDE! BY NIGHT

A sketch of Erik Satie by Frueh

Parisian composer Erik Satie, ever the eccentric, held a rather filthy secret all the way to his grave: much like his musical predecessor Ludwig van Beethoven, whose shared ‘secret’ was discovered during the larger-than-life composer’s downward spiral into anacusis during the late 1800’s. Perhaps a reaction to stress and undoubted fear – perhaps a stalwart dedication then more than ever before to compose beautiful music – Beethoven would be discovered living in a state of utter squalor and disarray: it is said the rank and vile odor from wasted food piled up in his lodgings permeated the streets wherever the Bonn native chose to set up shop. Ludwig, once maestro supreme of Germany, had become a full-blown hoarder, “collecting” (or simply not disposing) of anything that would enter into the vicinity of his lodgings.

This behavior – although understandable from a psychological/physiological aspect still left fans of the composer stunned: how could such a dynamic, creative mind reduce himself thus?