Joaquín Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez is one of the most popular works written for the guitar (in this case, with orchestra), popularized in part by Miles Davis’s hauntingly atmospheric tribute to it in Sketches of Spain. Rodrigo wanted the concerto to conjure up ”the fragrance of magnolias, the singing of birds, and the gushing of fountains” in the gardens of Aranjuez, a town just south of Madrid. The second movement adagio is shrouded in mystery; for some listeners, it may bring to mind the music Morricone wrote for those Sergio Leone spaghetti Westerns.

The Cádiz-born Manuel de Falla (1876 – 1946) is perhaps Spain’s best-known and most revered composer (you know a composer has rank when a country puts him or her on its money!).  Among his most captivating works are the ballet El amor brujo (Love the Magician), which includes the fearsomely sensual “Ritual Fire Dance,” and the no-less seductive Noches en los Jardines de España (Nights in the Gardens of Spain) for piano and orchestra.

The great French composer Olivier Messiaen called Isaac Albéniz’s Iberia “the masterpiece of Spanish music.”  Composed of four books of music for solo piano, Albéniz’s genius requires no less brilliance from the work’s performers — it is, in fact, one of the hardest works in the repertoire. For the listener, it’s an entirely different and irresistible experience, a beguiling dance- and song-inspired audio guide to some of the country’s most beautiful places.

Iberia is the name of another famous work celebrating the magic of Spain, but this time, the composer is Frenchman Claude Debussy.  Like a tourist who appreciates the beauty of a place even more than the sometimes jaded native, Debussy captures the exotic glories of his country’s next-door neighbor with a dazzling three-panel fresco of audio paintings for orchestra. Local color is immediately apparent with the dancing, castanet-led “Par les rues et par les chemins” (“In the Streets and By-ways”), which opens the triptych. Part Two, “Les Parfums de la nuit” (“The Fragrance of the Night”), is sexy, moon-lit and hypnotic. The woozy brass at the end of  the ”Le matin d’un jour de fete” (“The Morning of the Festival Day”) suggests the aftermath of alcohol-assisted reverie.

Iberia, by the way, is the central part of a larger work by Debussy called Images.  The opening movement of the latter (“Gigues”) looks north to England and Scotland for its inspiration; the final movement, “Rondes de Printemps” (“Spring Rounds”), which borrows from a couple of French folk songs, is more of a home-grown affair.  Neither of those other countries did so well at the World Cup (understatement in the case of France), but that’s no reflection on Debussy’s magnificent achievement.

So this Fourth of July weekend, if you find yourself with sagging spirits — or if you’re an optimist who just wants to stoke the fires further — listen to Aaron Copland’s Third Symphony. For me, the most exciting version of Copland’s Third Symphony is Leonard Bernstein’s 1990 recording with the New York Philharmonic for DG, and James Judd’s budget-priced recording with the New Zealand Symphony for Naxos is a worthy alternative. The great American composer finished writing what’s frequently called “The Great American Symphony” in 1946, and he said that its rousing, heroic tone was a reflection of the “euphoric spirit of the country.” The most destructive war in history was over, the country had finally emerged from the long night of the Great Depression, and America had been a beacon to the free world in dark times. There was plenty to celebrate! Listening to the symphony today, Copland’s words about it came to mind, and I felt sad thinking how different that “euphoric spirit” is from the America we are living in today.

What amazes me most when I listen to his Third Symphony is that although it is grandly patriotic — he once thought to call the piece “For the Day of Victory” or “For the Spirit of Democracy” — it is also universal. Perhaps more than any work by Copland, this is a unifying, all-embracing work. There are moments of extreme tenderness and vulnerability, but also climaxes of shattering power. It celebrates the ordinary citizen — the regular guy — with the extraordinary splendor of the famous “Fanfare for the Common Man.” Its finale is as triumphant as music can be, but it comes after some dark, scary and violent episodes. Victory may be assured, but it will not be easy.

I know that listening to Copland’s Third Symphony won’t put the unemployed back to work, or create renewable energy, or clean up the financial mess. But, at least for me, hearing this amazing work will continue to keep my own hope alive for a better future for our country.

For the perfect encore, listen to Dudley Buck’s enormously entertaining “Festival Ouverture on the Star Spangled Banner.”

No doubt the most famous to use music as a weapon was Beethoven. Beethoven had intended to dedicate his Symphony No. 3 to Napoleon Bonaparte, whom he believed at the time to be a creator of a new republic, a liberator of the common man, but when he learned that Bonaparte had proclaimed himself Emperor,  Beethoven literally tore the dedication off the top of the page. The symphony was given the title “Eroica” and became a symbolic gesture toward the spirit of liberation. You cannot help but feel the pulse of freedom when you listen to parts of it.

This revolutionary spirit pervades much of Beethoven’s symphonic output, notably in the famous finale of his Ninth Symphony, the “Ode to Joy,” which Leonard Bernstein used to celebrate the tumbling of the Berlin Wall and is employed regularly when people need to lift their spirits against forces of oppression.

Another fantastic composer who used music to channel feelings about the intensity of his political reality was Dmitri Shostakovich, who endured being a creative spirit in Stalinist Russia. Because wordless music is ultimately abstract, there has been endless speculation about what the ‘real meaning’ is behind some of Shostavovich’s most famous symphonic works. But the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. Is it possible to listen to these famous works except as a soundtrack to question authority? The final movement of his Symphony No. 5 begins almost unquestionably as a battle, a race of opposing forces. By the end of the movement, you know whose side has won: ours!

As with Beethoven’s symphonic works, much of Shostakovich’s symphonic output inspires and resolves these intense universal, geopolitical feelings. Listening to them, you find yourself working through the many emotions of protest and the quest for liberty, and in the end, you understand that music really is a weapon to focus and inspire the spirit that will not be dominated.

I was walking around the hills behind the Stanford University campus at sunset, listening to the piece on my Sony Walkman, and when the huge, glowing chords that bring the work to a close stopped ringing in my ears I was completely overwhelmed with a sense of love and spiritual joy.  For the next few days I listened to parts of it again and tried to learn more about it.  Then I had the crazy idea of having a huge party at the house I was living in off campus and inviting everyone I knew to hear it.  I was getting ready to graduate and move back to New York City, so I figured it might make for a strange and wonderful way to end my time in college.

There were probably 75 friends at the house that I shared with four roommates in nearby Los Altos when I announced that we should all crowd into the living room and listen to Mahler’s Third Symphony.  No one — including me — really knew who Mahler was, but to my astonishment everyone was silent for the entire time the Vienna Philharmonic and Claudio Abbado were making that magnificent noise on our stereo.  The room was dark except for one lamp, and people were scattered on the couches and chairs and floor, many holding and hugging each other, some making out, more than a few a little drunk.  But when it was over people were clapping like we had been in a concert hall.  We had all had a collective religious experience.  And for all intents and purposes, the Ecstatic Living Room was born.

Here is a clip of the great Leonard Bernstein leading the Vienna Philharmonic in the first movement:

A year later, I was back in New York City without a clue what I wanted to do with my life.  As the first day of summer approached, I thought nostalgically about that party a year ago. So I took out my Mahler 3 recording and listened to it while looking out over the Hudson River from the 18th floor apartment I was living in with my brother.  Once again, when the huge finale, which Mahler meant to depict the love that God had for his creation, came to an end, I felt utterly transformed.  From that time on I marked the first day of summer by listening to Mahler’s Third.  I look forward to it like kids look forward to Christmas morning.  It’s my special day of reflection and inspiration and renewal.

Mahler originally called this vast six-movement work “A Summer Morning Dream,” and his program for the long first movement once featured the heading, “Pan Awakes – Summer Marches In.”  But even if you didn’t know this, you might think of this as a summery kind of piece.  It’s big and bold and intense, like a hot summer day, when nature is literally exploding with life all around you.

The idea behind the symphony is simple but monumental: Mahler wanted to depict nothing less than the entirety of evolution, from inanimate nature (movement 1) to, five movements later, the consciousness of God’s all-encompassing love.  To achieve his ends Mahler stayed close to his key idea that a symphony should embrace everything that the world had to offer — life in all its paradox, beauty and contradiction.  It has huge climaxes as well as intimate and incredibly tender moments;  it has military marches and sublime hymn-like melodies; it has moments radiant with hope and other moments of primordial terror.

On the last pages of the score, Mahler told the musicians that the playing should be “saturated with feeling.”  For me, this is the point where I have not failed to cry each and every time I’ve heard the piece.

Monday, June 21 is the first day of summer in the Northern Hemisphere, so why not take the opportunity on that day — or anytime this summer — to discover Mahler’s Third Symphony.  One of several great recordings of the work is a Philips disc from 1988 with Bernard Haitink leading the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, which is available for download on iTunes.  Listen alone, or with a friend, or with a houseful of people.  It may just blow your mind; it might even change your life.

1.  A few works of classical music that you adore:

There are too many to name, and it would be hard to pick just one.  But my desert island work is probably Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings (buy on Amazon). When I heard Gergiev conduct it in St. Petersburg, I got goose bumps. I also adore Stravinsky’s Symphony in Three Movements (buy on Amazon). It is monumental.

2.  Classical music recordings that you treasure:

Anything with von Karajan.

3.  Favorite non-classical musicians and/or recordings:

I am a big jazz fan. I love really sexy jazz, especially by some of the great pianists, including Oscar Peterson and Erroll Garner. For me, this is real relaxation music.  Classical music isn’t relaxing for me, because I’m always listening for a possible ballet!   My all-time favorite is Ray Charles.

4.  Music that makes you cry – any genre:

There are moments driving into New York City on the West Side Highway that I know that I’m a sucker for Tchaikovsky. There are passages in his Romeo and Juliet overture that make my tears flow. I say to myself, how can anyone pick the notes like he could? He was a sublime melodist.

5.  Definitely underrated work(s) or composer (s):

Delibes. It may be that everyone will get their due ultimately if they are good enough – though it may take some time. I can’t remember which composer said it, but I think it was Saint-Säens who said, and I paraphrase, “I am not in the big leagues with the big ones – Bach, Beethoven and Mozart – but on the second tier I’m as good as they come.”

6.  Possibly overrated work(s) or composer(s):

I will leave that question for others to decide.

7.  Live music performance(s) you attended – any genre – that you’ll never forget:

Ray Charles at the Koch Theater in the late ’80s – though it was the State Theater then.

8.  A few relatively recent films you love:

I never see movies: I fall asleep!

9.  A few films you consider classics:

West Side Story was the reason I came to America. Leonard Bernstein and Jerome Robbins made me come to NYC! All I wanted to do was to go snapping my fingers on the Upper West Side and dance around in sneakers!

10.  A book (or two) that is important to you (and why):

I am very much into political science. I enjoyed Thomas Friedman’s The World is Flat – a great book.

11.  Thing(s) about yourself that you’re most proud of:

I never throw in the towel.

12.  Thing(s) about yourself that you’re embarrassed by:

I wish I spoke better English.  After 40 years I speak pretty well, but my vocabulary hasn’t really expanded enough. [Editor’s note: After a lengthy conversation with Mr. Martins, I can assure you that his English is quite impressive.]

13.  Three things you can’t live without:

My family, cheese and wine, and music.

14.  “When I want to get away from it all I…”

Listen to music and have cheese and wine with my wife and daughter at home!

15.  “People are surprised to find out that I…”

I can’t answer that question, as I have no idea what people think of me!

16.  “My favorite cities are…”

New York City.

17.  “I have a secret crush on…”

[Look of surprise including sly grin.] When I was very young, it was Jane Fonda.

18.  “My most obvious guilty pleasure is…”

Cigarettes. I don’t smoke much, but enough – like President Obama.

19.  “I’d really love to meet – or to have met…”

It would have been interesting to meet JFK and to see what he was like one-on-one.  I’m sure he would have been impressive.

20.  “I never understood why…”

In NYC, you can have all these cultures side by side getting along. NYC is an example that it can work, but it obviously doesn’t work everywhere else. Why not? If it can work here, why not there?

BONUS QUESTION:

21.  Question you wish someone would ask you (and the answer to that question):

Q:  What would you do if you had the chance to do it all over again?

A:  I’d become a conductor! Many things interest me. I wanted to be a lawyer, an architect, a soccer player, but my real love is music. I imagine having been trained since age three, playing instruments and becoming a conductor – much more so than becoming a composer! A composer sits in isolation and writes and creates sounds out of nowhere – pretty astonishing. A conductor gets to recreate that sound and bring it to life.  I watch Fayçal Karoui [music director of New York City Ballet] with such envy. Why can’t I do that?

Compiled and edited by Albert Imperato.  For permission to post or print this interview write to aimperato@21cmediagroup.com.

Whether you believe in a spiritual component, the practice of meditation is universally accepted as a great thing for body, mind and soul. The object of any meditation practice is to clear the chatter of your mind, to calm your mind in a way that is different from sleep. This process can have innumerable benefits, and music can help.

First, set aside 10 to 30 minutes in a place where you can listen undisturbed. Put away all reading materials, knitting or whatever else you usually do while you listen to music — during Ecstatic Meditation, you are just listening.

Focus on the music and let your mind relax. When the chatter starts up, just recognize it for what it is and let it go, gently bringing your focus back to the music you are listening to. Anyone who has been instructed in meditation will recognize this technique, though the practice is traditionally to bring your attention back on your breath. With Ecstatic Meditation, bring your attention back to the music.

Virtually any music can work for Ecstatic Mediation, but in the beginning, focus on chamber music of a maximum 30-minute duration. Chamber music is particularly effective, because you can focus on the individual parts (e.g., the violin, the piano, etc.) or how the instruments blend together. Initially, it’s much more difficult to do this with larger-scale works.

Something that may seem counterintuitive is that you’re not just looking for relaxing, mellowing music. No way! While it’s fine to nod off during Ecstatic Meditation (which means you’re just exhausted!), the aim is to remain engaged.  So the music can vary from soft and gentle to wildly energetic.

While you are listening, you can let go of your own feelings and sensations and focus on the emotion of the music — the joy, the brilliance, the melancholy, whatever qualities you find meaningful in the piece you are listening to. Your problems will not go away, but when you return from your meditation, you’ll be in a better, stronger frame of mind to resolve them.

Practice Ecstatic Meditation either alone or with friends (group meditation is a common and very beneficial practice) any time of day. You’ll not just understand the music you are listening to more profoundly; you’ll likely learn more about yourself.

Here are some examples of music to start you on your way. We’ve chosen to focus on the chamber music of Johannes Brahms because his music is accessible, and so much of it occupies that middle ground between calm and ecstasy, which is the place you want to be.

Brahms 3 Intermezzi, op. 117 - These short, beautiful and enchanting works are a great place to begin your Ecstatic Meditation. Listen to them individually and then group them together to have a longer meditative experience. Eventually, you can build up to the following Ballades.  One of my favorite recordings of the Intermezzi is a Deutsche Grammophon disc by the German pianist Wilhelm Kempff, which is available both on Amazon and on iTunes.

Brahms’s four Ballades (Op. 10) are ideal for Ecstatic Meditation individually, but all together clock in just under 25 minutes.  Here is the legendary Emil Gilels playing No. 4. As thoughts appear in your mind, let them float on by, and refocus on the beautiful melodic lines.

There is a wonderful DG recording by Gilels on which the Ballades No. 4 is coupled with Brahms’s Piano Quartet No. 1, another great, albeit more “intermediate,” work for Ecstastic Meditation.  This album is also available on Amazon and on iTunes.

Brahms’ Piano Trios are also excellent as your Ecstatic Meditations get longer. The first trio is a great place to start for a near 30-minute musical escape.  Here is a short YouTube clip of Eugene Istomin, Isaac Stern, and Leonard Rose playing the first movement.

As for recordings of the complete Brahms’ trios, there is a great DG disc from 1993 by the Beaux Arts Trio.  I also like a more recent Virgin Classics release by the Capuçon brothers and Nicolas Angelic.

1. A few works of classical music that you adore:

Verdi’s La Traviata; Bizet’s Carmen; Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet

2.  Classical music recordings that you treasure:

Callas‘ Traviata; Turandot with Pavarotti and Sutherland

3.  Favorite non-classical musicians and/or recordings:

Alannah Myles; Anastacia; Tiziano Ferro; Whitesnake; John Butler

4.  Music that makes you cry – any genre:

It can happen with any genre, any piece, any time when it collides with personal matters…

5.  Definitely underrated work(s) or composer (s):

Salieri

6.  Possibly overrated work(s) or composer (s):

Out of respect to art and the creative process, I wouldn‘t say such a thing. Art and music always stay subjective and a question of taste.

7.  Live music performance (s) you attended – any genre – that you’ll never forget:

My first rock concert: Bonfire; Arabella in London with Hampson and Mattila

8.  A few relatively recent films you love:

Das Leben der Anderen

9.  A few films you consider classics:

As Good As It Gets; Traviata by Zeffirelli

10.  A book (or two) that is important to you (and why):

Eat, Pray, Love – it helped

11.  Thing(s) about yourself that you’re most proud of:

I did everything by myself… also the mistakes

12.  Thing(s) about yourself that you’re embarrassed by:

I can‘t remember names!!

13.  Three things you can’t live without:

iPod, telephone and computer

14.  “When I want to get away from it all I…”

Go out into nature, best on horseback

15.  “People are surprised to find out that I…”

If I would tell you, the surprise is gone

16.  “My favorite cities are…”

Paris, Vienna and Geneva

17.  “I have a secret crush on…”

Bruce Willis

18.  “My most obvious guilty pleasure is…”

Chocolate

19.  “I’d really love to meet…”

Carlos Saura

20.  “I never understood why…”

Opera-singers must be “divas“

Complied and edited by Albert Imperato. For permission to post or print this interview write to aimperato@21cmediagroup.com.

At a certain point, the size and scale of an event can become so vast that those qualities take on a life of their own, and it is no different with classical music, where some great works have  become defined, at least in part, by their sheer size and, to a certain degree, their spectacle.

So for those who plan to watch the entire Olympics, some of it, or none of it, we offer a list of super-sized classical music and opera to enjoy long after the games are over.  Each of the works share with the Olympic Games a nobility of spirit and grandness of conception.  The performers who take on these works need to be on top of their game – like champion athletes – if they hope to meet the challenges that the composers have laid for them.  For the listener, the challenges of taking all this music in will vary, but the rewards are many and far-lasting.

Gustav Mahler – Symphony No. 8 (download on iTunes or buy on Amazon): All of this Austrian composer’s nine symphonies are larger than most by other composers, and most convey a sense of epic journey, especially in terms of their emotional and dynamic range. But none is bigger in scope than his Eighth Symphony, which is nicknamed “Symphony of A Thousand” because of the number of people required to perform it. The score calls for a truly huge orchestra, organ, multiple choirs and soloists (and, believe it or not, a mandolin). The vast first movement is an ocean-sized chorus of voices invoking the “Creator Spiritus” — the creative force, the spirit of life, the energy of the cosmos. However you translate it, the listener is meant to be swept away in a torrent of massed sound. Mahler, in fact, said these were no longer human voices, but “the planets revolving around the sun.” Milchael Tilson Thomas won a few Grammies recently for his new recording of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony with the San Francisco Symphony. Naxos’s budget-priced version has gotten stellar reviews as well.

Giuseppe Verdi – Aida (download on iTunes): One of the grandest of all grand operas, most staged productions of this work heavily underline the spectacular elements of the story with lavish sets extolling its exotic setting (ancient Egypt) and huge casts of extras portraying the warring parties. The famous “Triumphal Scene” is something of a show within a show. Here, hundreds of performers — chorus members, dancers, and occasionally (to the dismay of animal rights activists) even horses, lions and an elephant or two! — occupy the stage as the Egyptian victors parade their Ethiopian captives in front of the ecstatic people of Egypt.

Ludwig van Beethoven – Missa Solemnis (buy on Amazon): Running close to 90 minutes, this work is famous for being difficult — and not just for the audience to sit through and comprehend! Chorus members are required to sing long stretches of extremely challenging music, often to the accompaniment of a large orchestra playing at full throttle, and the demands it makes on the performers are akin to training for a marathon. Many amateur choirs cannot hope to master the material, and even the greatest professional choirs continue to find the music daunting. Written at roughly the same time as his Ninth Symphony, the Missa Solemnis stands like Mount Everest amongst choral works, an awe-inspiring, sometimes terrifying, symbol of the power of faith and hope and human possibility.

Richard Wagner – “The Ring Cycle” (buy 2 CD “Ring Excerpts” or
the budget-priced single CD of “Ring Without Words” on Amazon): Clocking in at approximately 16 hours of music, the four myth-inspired operas of Wagner’s “Ring Cycle” come together to make pretty much the largest work of musical art ever created. Countless books have been written to describe what Wagner’s “Ring” is all about, but the truth is, it’s about everything that human beings experience and think about in life: nature (and how man interferes with it), love, loyalty, greed, redemption — the list goes on and on. Though written between 1848 and 1874, today’s listeners will be amazed at how many of our current problems and issues are touched upon. In this digital age, you can buy the whole “Ring” at a budget-price, but a great way to start is to just hear excerpts, which include one of the most famous and viscerally exciting things ever composed: the “Ride of the Valkyries.”

Check out this YouTube clip of André Previn and the NHK Symphony Orchestra performing the first part of the third movement of the second symphony.  I don’t feel bad that I don’t get it, because I know that if I am not getting my ecstatic experience from Rachy, I can get it elsewhere.

For me Rachmaninov (to paraphrase Bugs Bunny) made the wrong turn at Albuquerque after Tchaikovsky.   Tchaikovsky had gone far enough in the direction of sweet indulgence.   For me, we did not need to go further.  So I have found myself taking the other turn with Schoenberg and Shostakovich.

Curiously, I am able to find a parallel with my personal experience with rock music history.  Just as I felt rather sickened by the early 80s rock of groups like Foreigner and Toto (the Rachmaninovs of rock, if you will) I found my way in their diametric punkish counterparts, Black Flag, the Butthole Surfers and Dead Kennedys.  Bands who felt and expressed angst darkly both with radical sound and the occasional touch of humor.  This is how I found Shostakovich and my way into the angst-expressive side of the classical music tradition.

I realize that I am swimming against the tide here.  Rachmaninov is music for the people, as is proven over and over again by the borrowing of his melodies by pop and soundtrack composers and was demonstrated again that night at the New York Philharmonic when the audience jumped to their feet with ecstatic applause.  My ecstasy happens to lie in the grit.  The clouds that threaten the sunset.  The bitterness in that chocolate cake.

This is strictly a matter of taste as Rachmaninov was not expressing an easy life through his music.  Quite the contrary, he was expressing what he felt was the antidote to hardship.  Yet many of us seek a more homeopathic (“like cures like”) approach to our antidotes.  And the chief procurer of alternative music at the time was Arnold Schoenberg.

Around the time Rachmaninov wrote his second symphony (1906-7), Schoenberg wrote his Chamber Symphony No. 1, which is a work that takes the left turn at Albuquerque.  It emerges strongly from the world of romantic music, lush and large minded, but rhythmically and tonally it begins to stray and quest, to murmur and complain that we need change to face the challenges of a new era.

This brief segment of Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony No. 1 played with ferocity by Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic might just get you on your feet and wanting more:

Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony No. 1 turns the sound world of Mahler in upon itself almost jazzily playing off of Mahlerian seriousness.  Yet it is not without its great climatic moments.   The work has five movements, but is meant to be played without pause and near the end of fourth movement Schoenberg creates a beautifully balanced apotheosis, which tracing its way back through the humor and lightness of the works beginning opens the way to a triumphant finale.

Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2 is characterized by its sweeping and saccharine (to me) melodies and is thus a very different work than Schoenberg’s funky Chamber Symphony.    But Schoenberg can ‘do lush’ as good as anyone and better than many, although his hues tend much more to dark red and indigo than light blue and pink.  One of the greatest examples of lush Schoenberg is his famous tone poem Verklaerte Nacht (Transfigured Night), which happens to sit very high on my personal list of ecstatic masterpieces.

Verklaerte Nacht is an earlier work written when Schoenberg was even more under the influence of the Romantics, particularly Wagner.   At the time he composed it, Schoenberg was caught in a romantic spell with Mathilde von Zemlinsky, whom he would later marry.   Verklaerte Nacht conveys all the uncertainty and swelling thrill of new love.   Yet even as it ends happily there are the strains of suffering that cloud and color that happiness.

In this YouTube clip from a Live From Lincoln Center telecast, Arnaud Sussmann, Erin Keefe, David Kim, Teng Li, David Finckel, and Priscilla Lee give us a nice sampling of the piece:

In the early 1920s, Dmitri Shostakovich began to compose some of the most exciting, radically charged symphonies of the 20^th century.   His symphonies will find many places in the Ecstatic Livingroom, but I will just sight his first symphony here as an antidote to Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2.

Shostakovich’s works are very lyrical, but he deploys force and atonal wallops like no other composer.    It is perfect transitional music from hard rock to symphonic music, if you are so inclined.    Shostakovich’s first symphony is a great introduction to his symphonic output.  At around 30 minutes, it’s a relatively brief listen and offers many of the trademark Shostakovich elements.    It begins innocently and easily enough with a few hummable tunes, but by the second movement those tunes have begun to morph into huge, explosive expressions of awe and fear.  It is a journey through beautiful lyrical moments and unspeakable fear, which ends in a thrilling climax. Shostakovich was only 19 when he completed this symphony and it is relatively easy going, compared to what was to come.   Even so, I cannot imagine what the first audience to have heard his Symphony No. 1, must have felt.

Here is a clip of Valery Gergiev, one of the world’s greatest interpreters of this repertoire, leading the London Symphony Orchestra in the finale:

This is music that gets me jumping up and down and often when I hear it live in concert halls, I look around and wonder how everyone can just sit there so apparently calm and not feel the need to get up and move!   This was of course, one of the reasons we created the Ecstatic Living room.  So we could just let go and do what we want to the music that we love.

This post was inspired by my personal inability to find the ecstatic experience in Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2, but it’s not meant to be a full-on put down of Rachmaninov.  He wrote some great ecstatic works, including his final piece, the Symphonic Dances, which is absolutely rocking.    But we’ll leave that for another time…..

And in case you’re interested, here are a few recommended recordings of these pieces:

Download on Amazon

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Buy on Amazon
Buy on iTunes

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Buy on Amazon
Buy on iTunes

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Buy on Amazon

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Buy on Amazon

In 2009, the world celebrated the bicentennial of Haydn’s death (he was born in 1732 and died in 1809), but I don’t think he received the kind of shout out that he deserved.  Chatting with artists and writers I work with, I have yet to find one person who doesn’t like “Papa” Haydn’s music, even if it has never been as well-known as Mozart’s (Mozart, it should be pointed out, revered the elder composer and his music and dedicated a set of string quartets to him).  A writer friend of mine compared Mozart to a smoothly paved road noting that, by comparison, Haydn’s music was more like a scenic country road – bumps and all.

Haydn spent much of his creative life on the country estate of his patrons, the wealthy Hungarian Esterházy family, and in that relative isolation he said that he was “forced to become original.” Lucky for us! Haydn nonetheless achieved fame across the continent, especially in London where his two extended visits met with an enormous outpouring of public affection.  It’s no exaggeration to say that in in his two trips there he was greeted and treated like a rock star.

I’ve been a bit of a Haydn junkie since first discovering his music 25 years ago.  The reasons are pretty simple: the world can be a fairly rotten place, but Haydn’s music is exactly the opposite – it’s charming, earthy, (mostly) joyous, imaginative, clever and inexhaustibly fresh. Heck, it’s even fun.

If I had to pick one genre of Haydn works for my desert island I’d go with the symphonies. Our panel of experts below tell you a bit about their favorites (responses are in alphabetical order, to avoid bruised egos!), and some recommended recordings follow that.

Marin Alsop, conductor (music director, Baltimore Symphony): Choosing a
favorite Haydn Symphony is a bit like choosing your favorite child. I love Symphony No. 49, La Passione. It breaks ALL the rules and foreshadows the Romantic revolution around the next bend! Extremely emotive and moving!

Leif Ove Andsnes, pianist: I love the “Clock” Symphony, No. 101. The first movement is one of the deepest and at the same time most joyful pieces he ever wrote. The serenity of the opening, then when it turns to major in the Allegro section – such an exploratory atmosphere! The themes and rhythms are exhilarating.

Here is a YouTube video of Sir Roger Norrington conducting the first movement of Haydn’s “Clock” Symphony.

Jonathan Biss, pianist: If I’m forced to name a favorite Haydn Symphony, it’ll have to be No. 102. In terms of invention, it is probably no more remarkable than any of the great symphonies, and while its humor runs the gamut from the urbane to the slapstick, others are more uproarious. What makes 102 unique is the stunning, almost ostentatious use of orchestral color. From the florid cello obbligato in the slow movement, to the timpani rumbles that decorate runs in the finale, I can think of no other work where he exploited the possibilities of the orchestra in such a unique fashion.

Leon Botstein, conductor (music director American Symphony and Jerusalem Symphony): There’s no such thing as a bad Haydn Symphony, but I’m especially fond of the late ones – Nos. 98, 99, 100, 102. These have all the complexity, drama and imagination that are the hallmarks of mature Haydn.

Jeremy Geffen, artistic administrator (Carnegie Hall): Symphony No. 99 in E-flat major. I heard this symphony first while a viola student at USC. At that time, as now, the piece seemed bursting with distilled joy – a Falstaffian humanity. Every time I hear the work I feel as if it is the first day of spring, and think of the wonder of that first encounter.

Alan Gilbert, conductor (music-director designate, New York Philharmonic): How about 48, 45, 90, 99 and 103 for starters? These are just a few that would make my list as I don’t particularly feel like choosing one over the other! Among his other incredible qualities, Haydn’s ability to write a last movement like nobody’s business puts him in a category all his own.

Paavo Järvi, conductor (music director, Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra): When I think about Haydn I think of my Dad. We played four-hands symphonies since I was ten, paying from the score! I love Haydn and Johann Strauss and both of them make me think of my father. Of all of the Haydn Symphonies that I love – and I love them all – I’ll choose No. 82, “The Bear,” which I recently conducted. I can’t help to think how wrong people are to think of Haydn as slightly gray and not exciting and a bit pedestrian. I can’t understand that reputation! His music is insanely entertaining. His music is like the orchestra bursting out laughing, but, at the same time, it’s perfection! Mozart and Beethoven called him Pape for a reason: you don’t call just anyone Papa!

Alex Ross, New Yorker critic: I’m partial to Haydn’s “Sturm und Drang symphonies, and especially the “Trauersymphonie.” The main theme of the first movement – rising fifth, rising fourth, falling semitone – is a rather scary entity, somehow putting me in mind of a gallows. Haydn spins out a customarily elegant argument from the idea, but it retains its threatening edge.

David Patrick Stearns, Philadelphia Inquirer critic: Symphony No. 100, “Military.” I love all of them because they so cleverly continue their thematic development in all regions of any given movement, and that’s definitely the case here. Also, Haydn was a creature of his own empire, so marches and such were a part of his landscape. And in second movement of this symphony, it’s so clever the way he turns a military march into high art – but without any undue grandeur or pretention. I believe the form is theme and variations. My favorite recording is Eugen Jochum with the London Phil on DG. But I hope that Roger Norrington will take it on soon, because I think he’s maybe the best Haydn conductor alive.

Howard Kissel, New York Daily News blogger and actor: Symphony No. 88: It has a gravity that reminds you he was Beethoven’s teacher, but a levity that reminds you he is Haydn.

Some box set recommendations:

If you have to own them all (and I wouldn’t discourage anyone from doing so), conductor Adam Fischer’s complete set does not disappoint, and is available in a lovely budget-priced boxed set from Brilliant Classics.

Haydn’s so-called “Sturm und Drang” (meaning “storm and stress” and related to a pre-Romantic literary movement emphasizing creativity inspired more by more personal, subjective feelings than reason) symphonies are very colorful, diverse and sometimes even a bit strange. Trevor Pinnock’s budget-priced set with the English Concert is always lively and vividly recorded.

Haydn’s most famous works, the so-called “Paris” Symphonies and “London” Symphonies are fabulously entertaining from first note to the last. Conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt is masterful in the former; and Eugen Jochum is full of character with the latter.

Symphonies 73 – 75: I absolutely love “La Chasse” (The Chase – no. 73), especially the opening movement. Roy Goodman and the Hanover Band have a great one.

Sir Charles Mackerras and the Orchestra of St. Luke’s kick up some dirt with their rousing performances. Either 101 and 104, “London” or 100, “Military” and 104, “Drumroll” will do the trick.

For a terrific and handsomely-produced introduction to Haydn and his music, Harmonia Mundi’s “Haydn Celebration” (book + 2 CDs) features many photos and illustrations and a not-too-long biographical essay about Haydn’s life and works.