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Category Archives: Commentaries & Critiques

Clara Haskil and Arthur Grumiaux: The Elegance of Great Art.

During the nationally televised opening concerts for the Philadelphia Orchestra’s new hall, Yo-Yo Ma performed Beethoven’s Triple Concerto with his usual cohorts.  An overly enthusiastic Ma, writhing back and forth in his most ecstatic style, fell off the riser upon which he was sitting and landed flat on his back, chair askew, cello on his tummy. The performance did not stop. The concertmaster removed Ma’s cello and helped Ma regain his chair. Since his descent to stage floor level, I’ve seen him on television a half dozen times and noted with more then a little satisfaction, an absence of the gyrations which had plagued his past performances and brought him down so low. I believe he’s cured.

I grew up assuming the superiority of contemporary musicians over those of the past. Believe me, this was not a defensive mechanism designed to convince me of my being born at the right time or, perhaps the same thing, being in possession of the latest and best instruments and techniques. Innocently, I believed in the progress of Mankind. From Eve’s apple to my humble perch, every year, in every way, things got better and better.

Peter Schenkman (1937-2006), Toronto cellist and profuse collector of recorded music [1.], played me excerpts from his box set of the historic Chicago Symphony recordings. The Chicago Symphony was founded in 1891 and if memory does not fail me, I think some of the recordings predated the 20th century. But my point is that I was made to realize Chicago had possessed a great orchestra long before Fritz Reiner ascended its podium in 1953.

During subsequent listening sessions with Peter, I gained similar insights into the Boston Symphony, the Cleveland Orchestra, the Philadelphia Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic. Considered the big five among orchestras in North America, all of them released box sets of historic recordings. The recordings prove their orchestra’s virtuosity and musicianship long before the arrival of the conductors usually associated by my generation with having built them into first rate contenders to their rivals across the pond; Chicago-Fritz Reiner (1953-62), Boston-Charles Münch (1943-62, Cleveland-George Szell (1946-70, Philadelphia [2.]-Eugene Ormandy (1938-82) and New York-Leonard Bernstein (1958-69).

Peter’s knowledge of music history and musicians encouraged me to look further and further afield. The discoveries I made were rewarding and great fun, second only to my earliest explorations in music.

Perhaps the next important discovery to change my ideas about the quality of performers and performances from the past, was the rediscovery of Clara Haskil (7 January 1895 – Bucharest, Romania, Died: December 7, 1960 – Brussels, Belgium). At age 15, Haskil graduated from the Paris Conservetoire  with Premiere Prix in both piano and violin. She was afflicted by illness and for many years lived in poverty. She began to receive public attention in the 1940s and her playing was renowned for the rest of her life. Her close friend Charlie Chaplin described her talent by saying “In my lifetime I have met three geniuses; Professor Einstein, Winston Churchill, and Clara Haskil. I am not a trained musician but I can only say that her touch was exquisite, her expression wonderful, and her technique extraordinary.” [3.]

I bought her recording of Beethoven’s 3rd Piano Concerto on a long playing record during my sophomore year in high school. (Westminster Hi Fi, XWN 18379, the Winterthur Orchestra, conductor Henry Swoboda.).  I listened to it again, the first time in 55 years, and it made me seek out more of her recordings.

Haskil was famous for her interpretations of Mozart so my first digital purchase was a live recording of a recital she played in 1957. It contained sonatas by Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert. What glorious listening! I then purchased her recordings of all the Beethoven violin sonatas with the great Belgian violinist Artur Grumiaux (21 March 1921- Villers-Perwin, Belgium–16 October, 1986- Brussels). Grumiaux was known as a pianist and violinist. During concerts, he and Haskil would occasionally switch instruments.

The sound Grumiaux produced on the recording of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, another of my early LP purchases, has never left me.  Here was music making I’d not heard before; controlled and self-effacing, yet from beginning to end, exuding exquisitely beautiful phrasing and elegant passion. I’ve yet to hear another violinist match this recording’s slow movement. [4.]

Grumiaux and Haskil were classicists. Totally dedicated to the music, they approached their repertoire and their audiences with natural and unaffected playing. I sent the prominent Toronto violinist Marie Berard a newly released digital recording of one of Grumiaux’s performances and she e-mailed me to say, “Grumiaux and Oistrak were my heroes. I just love the way they played.”

For some players and audiences, the grand gestures so favored by Yo-Yo Ma  signifiy grand art. But, to quote John Cage, they were merely a Cheap Imitation. Recently, I heard the young Greek born violinist Leonidas Kavakos perform Korngold’s Concerto for Violin in D major with the Berlin Philharmonic. He played superbly. He, as did Haskil and Grumiaux, has the ability to disappear in the music with no need for histrionics.

Discography:

Clara Haskil – Orfeo C 706 061 B, 8 August 1957 Live.
Mozart, Sonata in C Major, KV 30
Beethoven, Sonata in Eb Major, Opus31/3
Schubert, Sonata B Major,D960

Clara Haskill – Philips Classics, 464 718-2, 1961.
Mozart, Piano Concertos No.20 and 24
Igor Markevitch, Orchestre des Concerts Lamourieux.

Arthur Grumiaux – PenaTone Classics, PTC 5186 1200
Ludwig van Beethoven, Violin Concerto in D. (recorded 1974)
Max Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1 in G mimor. (recorded 1973)
Colin Davis. Royal Concergebouw of Amsterdam
Heinz Wallberg, Philharmonia Orchestra

Clara Haskil and Arthur Grumiaux –  Philips Classics,1958, PHI 412253
Mozart 4 Sonatas for Piano and Violin.
No. 26, No. 21, No.24 and No.18.

Arthur Grumiaux and Clara Haskil –  Decca, 475 8460   Ludwig van Beethoven, The Violin Sonatas

Foot Notes:

[1.]  Obituary from The Herald of Randolph (Vermont)

Peter Q. Schenkman

TORONTO, CANADA-Peter Quarles Schenkman, 68, died Tuesday Feb. 21, 2006 in Toronto. He was born December 6, 1937 in New York City, the son of Edgar Roy and Marguerite Quarles Schenkman. As a teenager, he made the first orchestral appearances of his distinguished musical career with the Norfolk and Richmond Symphony Orchestras, under the baton of his father.

He attended the Curtis Institute of Music from 1955-59, where he studied cello with Leonard Rose. After graduation, he  was drafted by the US Army and spent three years in Washington D.C. as a member of the US Army band. Upon his discharge from the Army in 1962, he became the youngest member of the Boston Symphony and played with the BSO for three seasons. While in Boston he was very active in the local music scene, performing as a member of various contemporary chamber ensembles, including the Boston Opera Company, started by Sarah Caldwell. In 1965 he became principal cellist with the St. Louis Symphony, until 1967 when Seiji Ozawa invited him to become principal cellist with the Toronto Symphony, where he stayed until 1974.

For several years during the late 1970s, he hosted his own talk show, “The Art of the Collector,” on CBC Radio. As a freelance musician, he spent several summers at Marlboro, and many seasons as a member of the Casals Festival Orchestra, including three seasons as principal cellist. In Toronto, he was active in various concert and recording projects for the Canadian Broadcasting Corp., including three years as a member of the CBC Toronto String Quartet.

As an educator, he was a member of the Faculty of Music at the University of Toronto, the Royal Conservatory of Music, and the National Youth Orchestra of Canada. In addition to his playing career, he was active as a contractor and orchestra manager for many different musical activities. He contracted hundreds of jingles and recording sessions, and played with such diverse musical notables as Placido Domingo, Nana Maskouri, and Meat Loaf. He put together orchestras for many of the biggest film composers of the last 25 years, including Maurice Jarre, Jerry Fielding, John Barry, Georges-Delerue, and Howard Shore.  He managed the orchestra of the Canadian Opera Company, and for many years was the musical contractor for Toronto’s Royal Alexandra and Princess of Wales Theatres.

He played a significant role in assisting his late mother, Marguerite Schenkman, in founding the Rochester Chamber Music Society of Rochester, Vt., performing regularly in the RCMS summer concert series.

Survivors include his wife, Holde Gerlach of Toronto; sons Eric Schenkman of Picton, Canada; and Daniel Schenkman of Toronto; daughter, Jennifer Wells Schenkman of Toronto; grandson, Wyllie Schenkman of Toronto; brothers David Schenkman of Bryantown, Md.; and Joe Schenkman of Rochester; and sisters: Lucy Manson of Central, S.C.; and Sarah Schenkman of Savannah, Ga.

[2.]  Swiss Radio interview, 19 April 1961. Haskil’s death was the result of a fall on a Brussels train station stairway. She was to have played a recital the next evening with Grumiaux

[3.] The creator of the Philadelphia Orchestra’s “Sound” has long been debated. Was it Ormandy or, before him, Leopold Stokowski? Those in favor of Stoki, point to his independent bowing for string players, his charisma and his sometimes startling changes in scores, his innovative arrangements of classical works, some of which became as popular as the original versions and his enthusiastic embrace of film and recording technologies. Supporters of Ormandy point to his long tenure and large Columbia Recording Company catalogue.

[4.]  This recording featured the Royal Concergebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam conducted by Eduard van Beinum on vinyl for EPIC, LC 3420. The Sir Colin Davis performanc mentioned in the discography is similar to the van Beinum, though the van Beinum is warmer and a bit more broadly paced.

 

Morris Palter and Ensemble 64.8. University of Alaska, Fairbanks.

Dr. Morris Palter, graduate of the University of Toronto School of Music, disciple of Steven Schick and currently Assistant Professor of Music at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks flew into Toronto with 3 of his graduate students and presented a concert of music for percussion at the Music Gallery Monday night, 7th of May.

I’m not a great fan of music by John Luther Adams (b.1953), but he’s hot now and I suppose I should be happy for him. He has labored in the wilderness, literally, for many years and besides, is a good guy. Years ago I visited him in his rustic, but comfortable cabin in the Bush outside Fairbanks. There are no doubts in my mind about his dedication and honest approach to his music.

Adams’.  .  . and dust rising  .  .  . (1997), a work for four snare drums, needed better orchestration. Morris’ group had little choice here. All the instruments were rented from a local shop and in such cases, one must accept what’s delivered. To my ears, the piece was no more than an exercise in counting. It pales in comparison to James Tenny’s (1935-2006) Crystal Canon from Three Pieces for Drum Quartet (1974).

The hit of the show for me was Aphasia (2010) by Mark Applebaum (b.1967).   It was performed by Dr. Palter, who from past experience seems to thrive on and enlarge theater pieces. I cannot imagine a better performance of Aphasia. I was enchanted from beginning to end.

The audience was small and as usual, no percussion students from the University of Toronto were in attendance. I say as usual because the percussion students at the University of Toronto by tradition don’t attend concerts, even  Nexus concerts.  I can’t imagine what keeps them away. They are missing opportunities to hear percussion repertoire currently being played throughout North America. As future educators and performers, one would naturally assume an interest, indeed a need, to expand their music minds. The habit carries through beyond graduation. Rarely does one see any Toronto percussionist at percussion music concerts.

However, Dan Morphy member of the Torq Percussion Quartet and one of Toronto’s best musicians did attend and we sat together. We hadn’t seen each other in quite some time and it was a pleasure sharing the concert experience with him.

The Steve Reich (b.1936) Mallet Quartet was written for Nexus and two other groups in 2009 and given its Canadian premiere in Koerner Hall by Nexus.  I attended this performance and came away thinking about Picasso. Towards the end of his life Picasso would hand out favors to almost anyone. He’d scroll something on a restaurant napkin, sign Picasso, and the lucky recipient would go away feeling they’d just inherited a masterpiece.  I wondered if Reich was up to the same game. Years ago, Nexus paid quite a bit of money to copy the music of a piece Steve was “writing for us”.  This turned out to be Sextet, a work Nexus could never play again at least on the road because it required two extra musicians playing pianos and synthesizers. Now, the Mallet Quartet, a work instantly recognizable as being from the pen of Reich, but from all other points of view, a “toss–off”. A friend told me the middle section was “original”. Yes, but original does not equate with good. One does not always get what one pays for.

Nevertheless Ensemble 64.8 played the work with clarity and they’re set up, two marimbas at the back and two vibraphones facing each other at the front worked better in the music Gallery then it did for Nexus at Koerner Hall.

I’ll comment on only one more work, l. Hop (2) from Three Moves for Marimba (1998) by Paul Lansky (b. 1944) and performed by Kaylee Bonatakis. I liked this  work. I asked Kaylee how long she’d been playing it because I thought she needed more time with it. Still, everything was there, and, propelled by an occasional bass note, the piece has an infectious swing.

After the concert I went to a pub with Ensemble 64.8, Dr. Palter’s sister, mother, father, aunt, and Dan Morphy. This made getting up the next morning a bit difficult, but I had to meet 64.8 for lunch. It was good to hang out with them in the relative quiet of a West Queen Street restaurant. One of the students is from Florida, another from Australia and the third from Fairbanks. Then, they were off to see The Avengers. They are staying around for the Friday and Saturday drumming event in Guelph and will fly home Sunday. I enjoyed their music. Keeping up with Morris is fun. From all indicators, he’s doing good things in Fairbanks, Alaska.

 

PRISTINE Classical – an update

Pristine Classical was a major part of my posting about the Horowitz , Tchaikovsky 1st Piano Concerto recording made in 1941 and restored by Andrew Rose. (See under Alphabetical List of Articles, Horowitz and Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto.) I mentioned in my article Rose’s weekly commentaries. (pristineclassical.com) The article below is a recent example and I thought it might be of general interest and specifically, interesting to percussionists. The recording was made in 1953. Does anyone know who the snare drummer might have been?

Too loud to record properly?
Ravel’s Boléro is only one

When Maurice Ravel wrote his Boléro in the late 1920s he had no idea it would go on not only to become his most well-known work, but also one of the best-loved piece of classical music produced in the 20th century. Indeed, the composer actually predicted that most orchestras would refuse to play it!

Boléro was helped greatly in its rise to fame by its US première and adoption thereafter by Toscanini – as well as word of a famous falling out between Toscanini and the great composer over the tempo at which it should be played, with the maestro bluntly telling the composer “When I play it at your tempo it is not effective”, to which Ravel responded that he should therefore not play it at all.

Regardless of this, it went on to be played many times thereafter and to become a firm concert hall favourite. I recall as a child going to the Town Hall in Birmingham to a musical workshop with the CBSO where the work was discussed and then played. It is indeed childishly simple to explain the premise, and as a result it’s rather unique. See if you can spot it in this waveform representation of the complete Paul Paray album we’ve issued today:

Paul Paray album

Not too difficult, is it! Here it is again, in close up:

Boléro

Musically, the fundamental essence of Boléro is one very long crescendo. The same basic idea is repeated over and over again as the intensity builds up and the melody moves around different sections of the orchestra. There’s no musical “development” in the traditional sense, and as a musical experiment it leads almost nowhere, at least in the view of its composer – though further developments later on in twentieth century music in the field of endless repetition of simple figures might have come as a surprise to Ravel had he lived to hear them.

Recording a work such as this, especially in the pre-digital days of tape and disc technology, was always going to present a major problem. In fact, even with digital technology it’s not necessarily straightforward. This is the direct result of the huge dynamic range of the piece.

I was reminded when listening to it this week of my first visit as a young trainee BBC sound engineer to the corporation’s Big Band studio at the Hippodrome in Golders Green, in north London. It was the first time I’d encountered the specially designed and built large loudspeakers that were installed in but a handful of the BBC’s major recording venues back then (I’ve no idea if they’re still in use). As far as I recall, each loudspeaker was approximately the size of a stacked pair of domestic washing machines, with four large woofers surrounding a central tweeter. The speakers were mounted into the walls with a spring system allowing the entire enclosure a degree of movement forward and backward – if you pushed at them they’d “bounce” back and forth into the wall and then back towards you for a few moments.

The reason for these custom-built monsters was soon explained to me. The Big Band was individually mic’d up, the feed of these microphones going through a mammoth mixing desk with some 96 channels or so. That must have been a nightmare to get right first time! But the biggest problem they had was that of dynamic range, and above all that of the big bass drum. The drum, when whacked appropriately hard, had a dynamic range of a huge 120dB.

Even the very best digital recording systems we had at the time, which were all 16-bit back then, could only cope with a theoretical maximum dynamic range of 96dB. In order to cope with this discrepancy the BBC’s engineers decided that they needed to be able to hear the drum properly on their monitors, even if they couldn’t actually record its full range – hence the design and building of these monster speakers. (To me that sounds like a great ruse for getting hold of a pair of the most humongous loudspeakers imaginable from the BBC’s notoriously tight-fisted radio management – but it obviously worked.)

Come back to Ravel’s Boléro and we have perhaps a similar problem – it starts very, very quietly indeed, and finishes just about as loud as an orchestra can possibly play. Go back to 1953 and we have a much bigger problem that we did in 1990 – the dynamic range of a standard non-Dolby tape machine back then (and Dolby was a good decade and a half away from inventing his first noise reduction system – or as it was originally billed, his “signal-to-noise stretcher”) was perhaps somewhere in the 45-60dB range. Likewise the LP. Back in 1930, when Ravel conducted a recording with the Lamoureux Orchestra for 78rpm discs it would have been considerably less again.

So we come to a thorny compromise which was immediately audible in the original LP transfer of Paul Paray’s 1953 Detroit Symphony Orchestra Boléro, known as “gain riding”. Quite simply, as Paray slowly increased the volume of his orchestra, Mercury’s sound engineer was slowly decreasing the volume of the microphone to try and make sure that both the quiet opening and the loud ending fitted within the range and abilities of the recording equipment and media.

To the careful listener this manifests itself as a rather hissy opening to the piece. But it’s a curious kind of hiss, which gradually diminishes across the course of the work, until by the end it’s entirely inaudible. It’s been my assumption that the hiss heard at the start of the piece comes not from the tape or disc surface but from the microphone and its amplifier. Pushed to their upper limits this is what comes out of the electronics – but start to pull the faders back a little and that hiss disappears into the background noise of any analogue recording – tape hiss being the major culprit by the early 1950s.

I tried, in my remastering of Paray’s Boléro, to undo this gain-riding compensation, at least to a degree. The problem is that it’s very difficult to gauge how much of this actually took place. I began by measuring the background hiss at the start of the recording and comparing this to later in the piece. This at least gave me a starting point to work from. The problem with this approach is that I’m actually measuring two different things – the microphone hiss to start with and the residual tape hiss later on. And at the same time there’s an orchestra playing, making it difficult to take any noise measurements at all!

Anyway, I worked on this principle to begin with, and starting making my own adjustments, which first involved dropping the volume at the start by about 40% and then gradually increasing it across the entirety of the performance. But this still didn’t sound convincing. A further 30% drop at the beginning, again with an increase spread across the duration of piece back up to 100% sounded better – we were getting closer. Then I spotted that the music at the end wasn’t hitting the “end stops”, and I was able to add a further 20% to the final climax, which goes audibly into peak-overload distortion anyway on the original, suggesting even higher original levels were played than can be heard here.

The end result is something which comes, I hope, a little closer to what Paul Paray had in mind – though I retain a sneaking suspicion that there was probably an even greater contrast between the start and the finish than I’ve dared represent here.

The effect technically is to bring that opening hiss level right back down. You’ll still hear it at the beginning because we have the technology today to handle a much wider dynamic range and leaves it quietly audible when you turn the volume up on replay, but it’s much quieter than it was on the LP, as is the orchestra too at this point.

The effect musically is to make the entire performance even more startling and effective, the relentless drive of the orchestral crescendo in its slow build up is rendered more powerfully than a 1953 LP could ever hope to replicate. I do wish there was some I could do for the slight distortion at the end, but to a certain extent, just as it can in some rock music, this serves only to accentuate to the listener the intensity of the music’s conclusion. It’s an incredible piece, and Paray’s is a truly magnificent performance of it.

Scroll down the page and click on the Paray sample link and you can hear the entire performance in full.

Andrew Rose
11 May 2012