23 Aug 2005
THOMAS: Polish Music since Szymanowski
Throughout the history of Poland, music has been an enduring force in its culture, and Polish composers were at the forefront of a number of developments in the twentieth century.
In addition, to his popular score to A Midsummer Night’s Dream Felix Mendelssohn wrote incidental music to several other plays. Commissioned by the Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV, the incidental music to Athalia was intended for a private performance of the play by Jean Racine. While the story is a complicated Old Testament plot, Mendelssohn’s music captures the tone of the tragedy with delight, whimsy, and severity.
Interludes in opera articulate moments when the lush voices of singers and vivid spectacle of scenery and action are removed and often the curtain is drawn, and thus they span a functional gap between textless instrumental music and explicit theatrical vehicle. Although composers and analysts suggest rich and multivalent meanings for the music, those implications often escape decoding by audiences. Even the interlude titles — Zwischenspiel, entr'acte, intermezzo — suggest their intermission-like nature. As functional placeholders for scene changes and the like, the interludes are for many a cue to relax attentive listening, read synopses, and whisper with companions. Undaunted by such complexities, Morris takes up the problematic nature of operatic interludes, engaging their ambiguities with eyes wide open in an effort to enrich our understanding of these challenging bits of music.
According to the book jacket, this is the first major scholarly study of Così fan tutte, considered to be one of Mozart's least-understood operas and librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte's most interesting text. Così fan tutte has been studied extensively, despite the broad assertion stated in the book. What the author of this study brings to the reader, which others have not, is a detailed examination of the philosophical, pastoral, and comic background of the libretto, characters, and music of the opera. New perspectives on text and tone in the opera, the subtle use of the pastoral mode, and the tension and balance between philosophy and comedy are what the author brings to the study of this work. In addition, the author does an intensely close reading of the primary sources of the opera, in order to support his theories and statements.
The importance of the Teatre del Liceu, can not be overstated. The house ranks with all the leading theatres of the world, being right up there with Paris, London, New York, Vienna, Madrid, Rome, Milan, Lisbon, St. Petersburg, Moscow, Turin, Naples, Buenos Aires, and other cities of comparable importance. During its long history (158 years at the time of writing) it featured many of the great singers. These include Caruso, Battistini, Tamagno, Ruffo, Caballe, Tebaldi, Mario, Pavarotti, Vignas, Lazaro, O'Sullivan, Stracciari, Pagliughi, Gayarre, Masini, Stagno, Lauri-Volpi, Bellincioni, and countless others. Quite a few of these who sang there before 1897 are represented on the accompanying disc.
Thomas May's stated goal in Decoding Wagner is indeed summarized in his subtitle, An Invitation to His Music Dramas. Mr. May offers an introduction to those who may seek a reliable yet succinct guide in their first Wagnerian experience; a further potential readership is seen among those who have attended performances of Wagner but who wish to expand their appreciation of the music dramas. In his chronological overview of Wagner's oeuvre from the mid-1830s until the close of his career May presents an approachable guide to appreciating the composer's operatic genius. As an illustration of May's commentary on the works, a generous selection of Wagner's music is included on two Discs that accompany the volume in a protective sleeve.
Books described as a "Companion" to this or that and published by university presses should be required to come with a Reader Beware label. As is the case with many books put out by university and many for-profit publishers, the main reason for publishing these is to advance the tenure and promotion prospects of the authors. This is not a bad thing, except that all too often the books aren't very good.
In Making Words Sing, Jonathan Dunsby investigates what he calls the "vocality" of song, that is, the "quality of having voice," as the author states in the introduction to his study. By using this perspective, Dunsby focuses on the intensification of the text that occurs when words are set to music, which stands in opposition to the kind of "songfulness" that Lawrence Kramer discussed in Musical Meaning: Toward a Critical History (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2002).
"Puccini & the Girl" is a rare and engrossing work of scholarship that can be enjoyed on several levels. For the Puccini-lover, to say nothing of one who has a special interest in La Fanciulla del West, it will provide a wealth of information not previously available, particularly all in one place. Any one interested in the creative process will find it exposed and examined clearly. The scholar will recognize the fascinating chance discovery, the thrill of the chase and the deep rewards of work undertaken lovingly and with rigorous care by the dedicated and passionate co-authors.
Jack Winsor Hansen's 520-page biography of Sibyl Sanderson (1865 - 1903) is packed with romanticism and gossip that will delight and titillate true worshipers of operatic divas and inquisitive opera fans. It also fills a gap in the music-historical writings about opera at the end of the 19th century.
Cage's music is like Einstein's theorem: most people know it exists, know it's important, but beyond these facts know nothing about it (count me in this category when it comes to Einstein).
If any opera lover feels daunted by the many biographies and analytical tomes dedicated to the life and art of Giacomo Puccini, Norton has done that reader a tremendous favor with the publication of The Puccini Companion. Tightly organized, this series of essays details the life, discusses the operas, and provides a wealth of supplementary information about the composer.
When Rudolf Bing came to the Metropolitan Opera in 1950, he scored a tremendous hit with a new staging of the perennial operetta favorite Die Fledermaus. Both at the opera house on 39th Street and on national tour, the slickly Broadwayized Fledermaus packed in big audiences season after season. A decade later, Bing assembled a fine cast and proven production team for the company's first performances of Strauss's Der Zigeunerbaron in fifty years. 18 performances were scheduled. It sank like a stone and has never appeared at the MET again.
Much current popular culture assumes that its audience is knowledgeable of the American musical. References to, and parodies of, specific musicals are frequently a part of episodes of The Simpsons and South Park, and ads for companies as diverse as The Gap and the World Wrestling Entertainment promotion recently have restaged numbers from West Side Story to plug their products or events. Rarely, if ever, are the sources acknowledged; it is simply taken for granted that a general audience will understand the quotations and parodies.
"I particularly want to reach newcomers" writes Anthony Tommasini, Times chief classical music critic, in his preface. I do not think they will be helped very much by this book. A rookie who picks it up and reads the subtitle may expect something more than two operas by Bellini, two by Donizetti, one Gounod (not Faust), one Massenet (not Manon) and no Lohengrin.
"New musicology" is the cultural study, analysis and criticism of music, which proffers the belief that music has societal, religious, political, personal, and sexual agendas. Consequently, new musicology, much like the discussion of such topics at social gatherings, can be polarizing.
The box-sets contaning the complete recordings of the music of J.S. Bach and W.A. Mozart occupy substantial shelf space in the collections of those fortunate enough to possess them.
Here's a serious niche book, a relatively slender volume dealing with a topic at once both arcane and surprisingly central to some of the major controversies in opera production today. I think it has major problems but it has become for me the pebble dropped into the pond that sends ripples to unexpected places, raising interesting questions in the process.
Among the recent publications on opera, The Cambridge Companion to Grand Opera, edited by David Charlton, breaks new ground with its systematic and thorough exploration of grand opera, a specific part of the genre which played an important role in the musical culture of the nineteenth century.
This volume has long been regarded as the definitive work on the subject, and has been quoted in countless later works whenever a reference was required to the performance histories of individual operas. Taken as a whole, especially when one considers the state of library science when the book was first written, it is a magnificent piece of work, and belongs on the bookshelf of every researcher in the operatic field.
During his heyday, Alain Vanzo did not get quite the recognition he deserved. Though the voice was sweeter and more beautiful than the somewhat white sound of Nicolai Gedda, it was the latter who got all the plums; primo because he was a discovery of Legge and a few years earlier on the scene and secundo while opera managers could cast him in other languages than French and Italian.
Throughout the history of Poland, music has been an enduring force in its culture, and Polish composers were at the forefront of a number of developments in the twentieth century.
For some, figures like Andrzej Panufnik, Witold Lutosławski, Krzysztof Penderecki, and others found a uniquely effective mode of expression in the avant garde, which sets them apart from some of the serialist and post-serialist composers in the West. Their accomplishments seem incredible in the context of the turbulent politics and difficult social situations in Poland for the better part of the twentieth century. Given the many issues that Poles faced in dealing with various governments, music should have been sidetracked until the political situation would have allowed for the arts, as often happens in the West. Perhaps the arts function differently in Poland, since the pressures at work in that culture seem to have caused music to flourish, just as some plants put forth some of their more spectacular blossoms when stressed.
In this book Adrian Thomas focuses for the most part on music in Poland in the twentieth century, and takes as his point of departure the death of Karol Szymanowski (1882-1935). He may be seen as a crucial figure, with his work bridging the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Thomas offers a comprehensive and organized review of new music in Poland that encompasses efforts during World War II, music under the Soviet regime, and the new wave of contemporary music after the collapse of the USSR. His study essentially ends with the death of Lutosławski (1913-94), and the focus that Thomas contributes results in a vivid discussion of one of the most creative cultures of the twentieth century.
Thomas’s knowledge of Polish music and politics informs various discussions throughout the book. His comments often reflect a firm understanding of the various traditions that existed and to which Polish artists reacted. Thus, the comments in the first chapter about the Young Poland Movement offer some useful perspectives on the strengths and weaknesses of that group (pp. 6-7). The coverage of music during World War II (pp. 16-25) serves as a prelude to the challenges that composers faced under the Soviets and their various responses to the restrictions placed on artistic expression. The latter section comprises the main part of the book, where the counterpoint between politics and art may be seen to emerge in a number of works, which Thomas puts into perspective masterfully.
Again, some of the social elements may be seen to reflect those in the arts, with the end of the Nazi domination of Poland at the end of World War II offering the potential for improvement. Yet the ideals of the Soviet state gave way to the reality of party dictates when hard-liners imposed their guidelines at a conference of composers held in Łagów Lubuski in August 1949, as Marxist philosophy set the tone for music and the other arts. Polish composers met the challenge in various ways, and while some felt victim to the Soviet regime, others found ways to express themselves and, at the same time, respect the wishes of the state. Thomas calls attention to works like Tadeusz Szeligowsk’s opera Bunt żaków [The Scholars’ Revolt] (1951) and Lutosławski’s Concerto for Orchestra (1950-54), which were composed when these artistic sanctions were in force.
In the course of his discussion, Thomas establishes the ascendancy of the symphony in Poland in the mid-twentieth century, which may seem out of place in the West, where symphonic composition had peaked by the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This sets the stage for later discussions of formalist approaches to music, a stance that was often at odds with the proscriptions of the Soviet regime. Notwithstanding some of the controversies that arose over some works in the genre, the symphony became a vital part of contemporary musical culture. In his discussions of responses to Soviet realism, Thomas raises intriguing issues about the aesthetics involved, which he supports with a firm grasp of the structure of the works discussed.
With such a footing clearly established in the first section of the book, he moves seamlessly into a discussion of the “Warsaw Autumn” that occurred in the early 1950s after Stalin’s death. With the change of leadership in Moscow, music composition benefited from a less oppressive atmosphere, and the result is evident in the annual festivals that took place in the Fall of each year (a list of the works performed is found on pp. 324-31). The “Warsaw Autumn” festivals were an opportunity for an interchange between East and West, since performers like David Tudor were part of the program, as occurred in 1958. More abstract music, like that of Elliott Carter, was performed in Poland, where such music had been proscribed, and native Polish composers composed some of their finest works for these events, with Lutosławski’s Venetian Games and Penderecki’s Threnody for Victims of Hiroshima both premiered at the 1961 festival.
In this study Thomas goes beyond any sort of linear historiography. Rather, he includes in his discussion well-thought discussions of individual composers and their styles, as found in the middle section, which concerns the “search for individual identity.” Through Thomas’s perspective, it becomes clear that Polish composers explored the avant-garde with an eye – or, perhaps, ear – toward personal expression. Novelty does not exist for its own sake, and the quest for new sounds and approaches may be seen as a means of expressing individual voices, as is the case with Baird (see the section devoted to him on pp. 120-32). Likewise, Thomas explores Lutosławski’s style deftly to offer some insights into the composer’s balance between his association with tradition and also the composer’s fascination with new ideas.
In discussions of Lutosławski, Penderecki and others, Thomas reveals his understanding of convincing works, and never sacrifices his enthusiasm for innovation alone. Thus, he establishes a context for Penderecki’s exploration of new sounds and techniques that may have escaped other commentators. His comments about some of Penderecki’s sonically innovative works of the early 1960s not only convey a useful perspective on such pieces as the Threnody, Anaklasis, and others, but they are also apt when it comes to discussing some of the composers of that generation:
They are evidence of Penederecki’s exhilarating sense of freedom, not just from the stifling neo-classicism of his youth but also from what he saw replacing it in Polish music, the insidious avant-garde hegemony of serialism. More than that, he felt free from the construction of traditional musical parameters: rhythm and metre, harmony and melody, and many aspects of form. . . . (p. 165).
These comments help to establish a context for discussing the works that Penderecki composed later in the 1960s and 1970s, and also individuals like Gorecki, Szalonek, and others. Those composers continued to explore music in the following decades, as did Penderecki, and while some of their music may be no longer performed, their contributions may be seen as a tangible connection to some of the contemporary trends that Thomas explores in the later part of this study. With the openness to Western culture that emerged after the 1970s, the potential for personal expression offered a new impetus for composition, which may be perceived not only with those composers, but also others. The well-known Third Symphony of Gorecki is just one example from this time, and Thomas explores Gorecki’s music, as well as that of other composers, as he takes the reader to the present, when “Young Poland” is again a term used to describe the creative spirit that persists to the present. It is clear that Poland has much to offer contemporary music, and beyond the works that circulate in printed and recorded form, the enthusiasm for new music that exists in Poland is one of its most powerful attributes. Thomas conveys that spirit in this book, which is an effective study of a remarkable music culture. The various technical apparatus that are part of the study, the lists of composers and their works, a chronology of events from the late 1960s to the 1990s, and the comprehensive bibliography (of both general works and studies connected to individual composers) are tools that are invaluable to future explorations of this music. For those who appreciate Polish music and others who may want to know about it, Polish Music since Szymanowski is an important publication that should endure as the present generation of composers takes its audiences into the twenty-first century.
James L. Zychowicz
Madison, Wisconsin