Ecstatic Living Room

The Christmas holiday has it’s famous music: Handel’s Messiah, Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, to name a few. But what about the Winter Solstice? This landmark of seasons feels like one of the most potent, the shortest day of the year heralding our gradual climb toward spring, it marks the beginning of the journey from darkness to light.

Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 1 “Winter Dreams” has long been a favorite of the Ecstatic Livingroom and has been played at crushing volumes on many a winter solstice.

What about Sibelius? His music seems to exude winter. And many of his works would suit a celebration of the solstice. I like his Symphony No 7 for its intensity and brevity. There are many points when shards of light and promise break through the dark, churning strings. At its magnificent conclusion you feel that you are in the heart of winter, but can sense light, spring in the distance….

What is your favorite music for the Winter Solstice?

Photo Credit: Mike Sharkey

Nathan Gunn is a man of many talents and passions, as his responses to our “20 Questions” reveal. His compelling stage presence and musical versatility have given him star billing in a plethora of operas around the world, ranging from contemporary and 20th-century works to Mozart’s masterpieces (from December 21 through January 6 he reprises his acclaimed Papageno in the Met’s English-language family version of The Magic Flute). Singing with orchestras and in recital, the Grammy-winning baritone takes on some of the great concert and song repertoire, and also makes frequent excursions into musical theater fare, including, most recently, celebrated semi-staged performances of Camelot with the New York Philharmonic and Showboat at Carnegie Hall, as well as a Sondheim 80th birthday gala (also with the NY Phil) that recently came out on DVD. An avid sportsman and enthusiastic reader, Gunn’s charisma – yes, you saw him in People magazine’s “Sexiest Men Alive” issue in 2008 – is undeniable. He’s also a dedicated family man who stays close to his mid-western roots.

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Here in New York we’re celebrating the centenary of one of opera’s more unique works, Puccini’s “Fanciulla del West” or in English, The Girl of the Golden West. Premiered on December 10, 1910 as the first world premiere at the Metropolitan Opera, Puccini’s “American Opera” was arguably one of the most important and high-profile works of Americana on the classical stage at the time. In 1910, the concept of “American” music as we know it today wasn’t as settled as it is now, especially on the classical stage, but now 100 years later we all can now instantly recognize many quintissentially American works, such as Aaron Copland’s 1942 ballet Rodeo, and most famously the Hoedown:

And from Copland’s other famously American ballet, Billy the Kid:

But as much as everyone was excited for an “American Opera,” there were detractors. In 1910, Puccini himself said that The Girl of the Golden West wasn’t an “American” opera, as it had been billed by the Met. He responded to the claim by saying, “The music cannot be called American, for music has no nationality — it is either music or nothing.” But how can music not have a nationality when we now so easily and instantly hear what is “American,” and more specifically what is “Western?” This music is so clear to us that it has permeated into many parts of not just classical, but also popular music. Take the soundtracks to the great Western films of the 1950’s and 60’s, like The Magnificent Seven:

These works sum up the optimism and bravura that was so prevalent, and indeed necessary, among the ‘49ers who left their lives and went out west looking for gold and glory. Sadly the gold rush didn’t work out as expected for many, and this made for the other part of Western music that we recognize – the sad and plaintive song.

Interestingly enough, The Girl of the Golden West wasn’t the first major work focusing with America as it’s theme. One of my favorite examples of American music comes from a Czech composer, Antonín Dvořák, and his Ninth Symphony, titled “From the New World.” This symphony was written in 1893 while Dvořák was living and working in New York as the head of the National Conservatory of Music. His fascination for all things American lead him to write one of the most beautifully American pieces of music ever, the second movement of his “New World” symphony.

But on this 100th anniversary of such a special work, it would be awful to not include one of the iconoclastic performances of the role of Dick Johnson, the principal tenor role in the opera. In this performance by Placido Domingo, you can hear not only the beginnings of some of the sounds which we so distinctly recognize as American, but also Puccini’s ever-present Italian style and voice. It’s a treasure of a piece, and all the attention on the work this year should hopefully carry over into the next 100 years. If you’re in New York, the show runs through January, but it will also be broadcast Live in HD on Saturday, January 8. Until then, we can enjoy this wonderful clip:

No matter how high the stress level gets for me during the holiday season, there’s one piece of music that never fails to restore my sanity, if not my faith in humanity:  the “Christmas Concerto” of the Italian Baroque composer Archangelo Corelli (1653-1713).  Some of my favorite holiday memories are tied to this piece music.  I remember listening to it on an iPod under the stars one Christmas Eve on the beach in the Caribbean – true evocations of the Holy Land!  I also remember hearing it in the country on a snowy early-winter night, the living room lit only by the fire of a burning log.  It is sublime music, as perfect in setting a mood of serenity as anything I know.

Corelli was a master violinist who was credited with taking the expressive qualities of the instrument to new heights, setting an example that inspired fellow composers and fiddlers in Italy and throughout Europe.  He had a prodigious gift for melody, which is evidenced in just about everything he wrote.  Listening to his music, I find myself using the words beautiful and gorgeous, but for all its elegance it also possesses irresistible warmth.

I first heard Corelli’s “Christmas” Concerto on an album called “Karajan: The Christmas Concert,” still one of my favorite holiday CDs – and, happily, still available for download at Amazon and iTunes.  The whole mood of the album is peaceful and reflective – despite some festive tracks for brass ensemble – including one of the most tender renditions of “Silent Night” you’ll ever hear.  Since the days when Karajan and Berlin Philharmonic made this recording (I believe in the 1970s), early music like Corelli’s has been increasingly performed by much smaller ensembles, mostly using period instruments.  Karajan’s plush version with the massed BPO strings may sounds a bit old-fashioned, but it envelops the ears like a cozy down comforter and I won’t be giving away my copy any time soon.

The most famous part of Corelli’s “Christmas Concerto “is a slow section so filled with quiet wonderment that for a moment you may believe that human beings might actually achieve peace on earth one day.  I was surprised, and delighted, when this movement was used in the film Master and Commander, but it worked brilliantly to evoke the boundless magnificence of a ship far out at sea coasting gently under a moonlit sky.  You can hear a sample of it here:

Corelli wasn’t the only composer to write a Christmas Concerto.  You can hear a sampling of works by the likes of Italian composers such as Manfredini, Torelli and Vivaldi in vivid performances by Il Giardino Armonico, available on Amazon.

Corelli’s “Christmas Concerto” is actually the eighth of the 12 Concerti grossi that were published together as the composer’s Opus. 6.  Do yourself a favor and buy yourself, or some loved one, the whole set (Trevor Pinnock’s wonderful collection with the English Concert is available for a steal at a two-for-one price on Amazon.  It’s a gift that will keep on giving whenever you need a little sanctuary from a world that’s gotten a little too frantic, a little too edgy, and a little too loud.

Postscript:  if you want an even bigger dose of holiday serenity, try Simon Preston’s two-disc collection of Christmas Concerto with the English Concert:  not cheap, but the extended playtime may be needed to soothe the most jingle-jangled nerves! Available on iTunes.

Thanksgiving is the perfect holiday for our melting-pot society. Its universal purpose to simply give thanks for our connection to other people and for whatever that you wish to be thankful for crosses easily all cultural and religious boundaries. Its focus on hearth and home, family and friends also makes it a perfect time to share music.

Because I spend the most time in our family creating playlists and with a nose in the CD shelf (and, to be honest, because I’m an ungifted pie baker), the task of creating the Thanksgiving soundtrack always comes to me. I don’t necessarily reach for music that is programmatically about giving thanks (such as Beethoven’s String Quartet 132 and its “Hymn of Thanksgiving”), but simply for music that is beautiful and feels ‘inviting.’

I typically divide the day’s soundtrack into music to cook by, music for the feast and music for ‘assimilation.’

The past few years the favorite music of our cooks has been Les Nations (The Nations) by Francois Couperin, an epic series of dance-infused works that Couperin wrote with the musical styles of his fellow baroque European nations as muse. This is great music to cook by.

For the feasting, I often reach for the piano trios of Schubert and Brahms because they are exquisite, refined and magically seem to enhance good food and drink. These trios may seem a curious choice, because of the wide range of emotional territory they cover, but they have been perennial crowd pleasers at our Thanksgiving, which I attribute to a magical property of these trios through their ability to overcome the ‘three’s a crowd” curse: I imagine they help remedy the notorious potential awkwardness of family gatherings.

After dinner it may seem cliché to listen to the Nocturnes of Frederic Chopin, and if you feel this an issue, then maybe reserve these Nocturnes for this one special night, because they are simply perfect for the occasion.

Happy Thanksgiving!

So, you’re probably already suffering from World Cup withdrawal — I know I am. But there’s a way to continue the buzz: celebrate Spain’s remarkable victory with the colorful, vibrant music of the country’s greatest composers (as well as a classic by a Frenchman who, in Spain, found the inspiration for one of his greatest masterpieces).

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.

Let’s face it — America is having a tough time these days. Unemployment hovers near 10%; the deficit soars; leaders refuse to act like adults and won’t put the country’s interests ahead of petty politics; young Americans slog their way through two wars in far away places; and there’s that big oil spill that continues to gush and grow in the Gulf. And this is just a short list of what’s ailing the country right now!

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.”

As much as iconic folk and rock musicians like Pete Seeger, Jimi Hendrix , Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Neil Young, Bob Marley, Pearl Jam and many others did to advance music as a means to foment and focus popular dissent, rock musicians of the 1960s did not invent protest music. We will never know who the first musician was to use music to denounce their oppression or proclaim their issues with the ruling class, but we do know that some of the greatest composers of all time used music to inspire feelings of freedom and even to vent their rage against the machine. At the G20 summit in Toronto last weekend, you can be certain that protesters were putting together their playlists of protest music to inspire the masses — you can do the same every day of the year with a playlist including the greatest ‘symphonic’ protest music of all time.

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.

It was almost 25 years ago to the day that I first heard Mahler’s Third Symphony.

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.

Born in Denmark, Peter Martins began his association with New York City Ballet in 1967, when he was invited to dance the title role in George Balanchine’s Apollo during the Company’s appearance at the Edinburgh Festival. He then performed as a guest artist with NYCB for three years before joining the Company as a Principal Dancer in 1970. Prior to retiring from dance in 1983, Martins danced a variety of roles with the Company and as a guest artist with companies throughout the world, and he was lauded for his outstanding partnering skills and noble stage presence. He is now the Company’s Ballet Master-in-Chief.

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.