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almaine · 9 years
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Schubert, Mondenschein, D. 875 (1826) Robert Shaw Chamber Singers / Robert Shaw (1992) Des Mondes Zauberblume lacht, und ruft mit seelenvollem Blick, in uns're düstre Erdennacht der Liebe Paradies zurück. Vom mächt'gen Arm des Schlafs besiegt, erstarben Sorgen, Schuld und Pein, das Zarte nur und Schöne fliegt entfesselt in den Geisterreih'n. Doch seht, die Fluren sind vertauscht, das ist die alte Erde nicht, o seht, ein Silbergarten duftumrauscht voll Nebelschmelz und Zauberlicht; den Geist vom ird'schen Drucke frei umwallt der Sehnsucht Ätherkleid, er trinkt in stiller Schwärmerei des Himmels volle Seligkeit. Doch mahnt das Lied der Nachtigall an seine Welt das weiche Herz, in aller Wonne weckt ihr Schall den tiefsten Schmerz, der Liebe Schmerz. Portfolio of 6 Aquatints: Tulip, Joe Andoe
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almaine · 9 years
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I postulated the existence of a subliminal unit of intellect (which I should like to term Intellectum), a module of organized vacuum which possesses neither mass nor energy but is capable of operating incorporeally in a putative zero dimension and governing such immensely significant intellectual units as mathematics and music. That such faculties have local centers in the brain does not change their inherent immateriality. The mystery lies in the working hypothesis that incorporeal essences can be transmitted by heredity into new bodies and souls. George Bernard Shaw, who was not given to religious beliefs, speculated in a fanciful paragraph in the preface to his play 'Back to Methuselah,' that 'a pianist may be born with a specific pianistic aptitude which he can bring out as soon as he can physically control his hands.' He advanced the bold assumption that 'acquirements can be assimilated and scored as congenital qualifications.' It is not an idle corollary that a specific intellectual or musical disposition can be similarly embedded in a non-dimensional space. The possession of absolute pitch attests a musical predisposition. However, the lack of it does not exclude musical talent, or even genius. Neither Wagner nor Tchaikovsky had absolute pitch, while a legion of mediocre composers possessed it in the highest degree. In our family, only my Aunt Isabelle Vengerova, my younger brother, and myself had it. My aunt, who often played the piano in our house, discovered this precious faculty in us when we were very young.
Nicolas Slonimsky, Perfect Pitch: A Life Story (1988)
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almaine · 9 years
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Chopin, Mazurka No. 32 in C-sharp minor, Op. 50 No. 3 (1842) Evgeny Kissin
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almaine · 9 years
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Chopin, Mazurka No. 17 in B-flat minor, Op. 24 No. 4 (1836) Nelson Freire (1984) Moritz von Schwind, from the 'Album for Smokers and Drinkers'
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almaine · 9 years
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Chopin, Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Op. 52, B. 146 (1842) Benno Moiseiwitsch, piano Rec. 1958 Three Women, George Romney
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almaine · 9 years
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The public does not, I think, generally realize the amount of pain actually attendant upon virtuoso pianism; the intense muscular exertion is comparable to a sport like tennis, and brings with it a battery of physical ills, like tendinitis, that have incapacitated pianists for short periods or even permanently ruined their careers. There have, of course, been pianists, such as Josef Hofmann, whose control of a relaxed technique was so great that they perhaps never felt real discomfort, but they are rare, and most performers find it hard to relax so completely. Such relaxation is the supreme form of technique and is not always attainable. Many of the finest pianists today are clearly driving themselves to bear pain. We must not, as I have remarked, blame the heavy action of the modern pianos: Chopin himself had to warn students to cease playing when they felt genuine pain. The infliction of pain on keyboard performers begins, in fact, in the early nineteenth century, with the accompaniment to Schubert's Erl-König, which seems to have caused the composer himself some problems to perform. Several Scarlatti sonatas are as difficult to play with accuracy as any work by Liszt, but none of them has ever caused physical anguish to a performer. The most famous danger to health comes from the brilliant displays of staccato octaves, like the finale to the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6 of Liszt, but such passages are very short in Chopin, with the exception of the left-hand octaves in the Polonaise in A flat major, Op. 53. However, the legato octaves in the Etude in B minor, Op. 25, No. 10, are even more punishing than anything in Liszt. Chopin's sadism is usually more subtle than those of his contemporaries, and in most of his work actual pain is associated with emotional violence. In the etudes of Chopin, the moment of greatest emotional tension is generally the one that stretches the hand most painfully, so that the muscular sensation becomes--even without the sound--a mimesis of passion. Perhaps this is what lies behind Rachmaninoff's reported reaction to Alfred Cortot's recording of the etudes, almost the cruellest observation ever made by one pianist about another: 'Whenever it gets difficult, he adds a little sentiment.' There is no question that the gradual increase of difficulty in a Chopin etude generally corresponds to the degree of emotional tension--although this does not mean that slowing down is invariably the most satisfactory way of interpreting such passages. It does imply an intimate relationship between virtuosity and emotional force in the works of Chopin. The hand of the performer literally feels the sentiment. This is another reason why Chopin often wanted the most delicate passage played with the fifth finger alone, the most powerful cantabile with the thumb. There is in his music an identity of physical realization and emotional content that is paralleled by the identity of tone-color and contrapuntal structure.
Charles Rosen, The Romantic Generation, 383
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almaine · 9 years
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Schubert, Piano Sonata No. 19 in C minor, D. 958 (1828) Sviatoslav Richter (1958) 1. Allegro 2. Adagio | 10:02 3. Menuetto. Allegro | 18:03 4. Allegro | 21:24
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almaine · 9 years
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Mendelssohn, The Hebrides Overture, Op. 26 (1830) Sinfonia of London • Colin Davis (1960) The Source of the Loue, Courbet
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almaine · 9 years
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Beethoven, Piano Sonata No. 25 in G major, Op. 79 (1809): 1. Presto alla tedesca Wilhelm Backhaus (1954) Grotesque figures, Spitzweg
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almaine · 9 years
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Mozart/Wilhelm Backhaus, “Deh, vieni alla finestra” (from Don Giovanni) Earl Wild, piano Rec. May 1995 Wild on the transcription: “Given the somber musical life of Wilhelm Backhaus, it is somewhat surprising to find his transcription of Mozart so unusually free and ornate. Happily, we have an old 78 rpm recording by Backhaus—a performance that is surprisingly charming.”
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almaine · 9 years
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How many things would and could Liszt do if he were not a famous man--or rather if people had not made him famous! He would and could be a free artist, a little god, instead of being what he now is--the slave of a tasteless, virtuoso-worshiping public. All this particular public demands from him is miracles and rubbish. He gives it what it wants, basks in its favor and plays--in a concert for Beethoven's memorial--a fantasy on Robert le Diable! It was done, however, with some reluctance. The program consisted exclusively of Beethoven's works, but that did not prevent a raving audience from calling thunderously for that fantasy, Liszt's most popular showpiece. It was a point in favor of this very talented man that he threw out a few angry words--'Je suis le serviteur du public; cela va sans dire!'--before sitting down at the piano and rattling the favorite piece contemptuously off. So is one punished for one's sins. One day Liszt will be called upon in heaven to play his fantasy on the devil before the assembled company of angels--though perhaps that will be for the very last time.
Wagner, "Third Report from Paris: Berlioz and Liszt" (June 1841, Dresden Abendzeitung)
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almaine · 9 years
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R. Strauss, Divertimento for Orchestra after Pieces by François Couperin, Op. 86 (1941): 3. La Tic-Toc-Choc - La Lutine New York Chamber Symphony / Gerard Schwarz (1987) Masques, Leonor Fini
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almaine · 9 years
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R. Strauss, Four Last Songs (1948): September Lisa Della Casa, soprano Vienna Philharmonic • Karl Böhm (1953)
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almaine · 9 years
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R. Schumann, Fantasiestücke, Op. 12 (1837): 1. Des Abends Sviatoslav Richter (1956) The Lost Balloon, William Holbrook Beard
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almaine · 9 years
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Schumann, Piano Sonata No. 3 in F minor, Op. 14 “Concert sans orchestre” (1836): 4. Finale. Prestissimo possibile Vladimir Horowitz, piano Rec. 1976 Scene from ‘Manfred’, Thomas Cole
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almaine · 9 years
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R. Schumann, Dichterliebe, Op. 48 (1840) 11. Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen 12. Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen | 1:02 Jonas Kaufmann Helmut Deutsch "Even if one puts a higher value on [Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen] as an independent piece of music than I think justified, it is clear that for Schumann it could not exist outside the cycle. It is, in its angular and banal insistence, a deliberately bad song, but magnificent in its place. Its coarseness makes Heine's facetiousness more profound as well as more dramatic. Taken by itself it might be a comic parody: in the cycle, its comedy is not humorous but deeply moving, above all because it makes no concessions to grace or charm. Schumann is perhaps the first composer to transform a musical joke into a tragic effect, to use the banal or the awkward not merely for comic relief but seriously--this presupposes an ability to discover a genuine musical interest in the banal, or the ungainly, and we clearly have something of that here. It is a new kind of musical irony, far removed from the elegant Mozartean irony of Così fan tutte, or the bitter aristocratic irony Liszt found in Chopin. It may, in fact, have been Schumann's comprehension of the seductive possibilities of the banal phrase which made him so repulsive to Chopin, but which makes him so modern, so much a precursor of Mahler, Berg, and Stravinsky. If 'Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen' were more distinguished musically, it would not have so powerful an effect in its place in the cycle. This was a revolutionary achievement: the inspiration here is drawn directly from the words 'It's an old story, but remains ever new,' but the musical use of the commonplace has a force to which the words do not aspire." [Charles Rosen, The Romantic Generation, 58]
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almaine · 9 years
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J.S. Bach, Partita No. 3 in A minor, BWV 827 (March-April 1727): 4. Sarabande Rosalyn Tureck, piano (1958)
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