jwilzewske: duet

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Thursday, October 27, 2011

Midori: Close Readings of the Third Kind; ‘Deep Linking’ in Shostakovich’s Op. 134

Y ou just have to ‘see’ more music in this music.”
— Valery Gergiev, regarding Shostakovich’s musical/spatial imagery, quoted by Fanning, p. 77.

T here is a sense of space and gravity... of invisible forces and large-scale coherence in the moves by Midori (五嶋みどり, Gotō Midori), especially in her performance of the Shostakovich, Op. 134, with pianist Özgür Aydin. It is as though each phrase is a consequence of something more remote than what the immediately preceding bars contained. Her recital tonight was like an expedition...

Mozart - Sonata in E-flat Major K.380
Shostakovich - Sonata Op. 134
Schumann - Sonata in A minor, Op. 105
Schubert - Fantasy in C Major, D.934

T he Andante first movement of the Shostakovich with its twelve-tone parts embodies a kind of spacy ‘otherness’—an alien mysteriousness in this otherwise predominantly tonal movement. The violin’s expression of Shostakovich’s musical signature: D—eS—C—H (the music notes D—E-flat—C—B)... feels more like a “quotation” in this context—feels more like a citation of a statement made at another time by someone else, than a statement in its own right.

W hy does this sonata’s first movement evoke Bach for me? And what about the idiomatic ‘jazz’ figures in the piano part, about 2 minutes into the second movement (Allegretto) and about 8 minutes into the third movement (Largo)?

T he phrases are played as if they are in “double quotes”—reporting where they’ve been and what they’ve seen. They have an arresting effect. Are they accurate? Are they really meant by Shostakovich to reference artifacts of our own culture or are they instead a kind of caricature or impostor? Shrewdly constructed by an alien intelligence from outer space and sent to us for some alien purpose? Or is it devised by an empathetic terrestrial intelligence?

T he Allegretto scherzo in E-flat major is impulsive, vehement. The Largo is infused with drama, but it too is mysterious—ambiguous in its direction and tonality and genre... A Bach-like passacaglia that has now returned from outer space, changed by contact with unknown extraterrestrials? (Maybe I should not have had the absinthe before the concert...)

K ristian Hibberd’s 2005 dissertation was the first application of the ideas of philosopher Mikhail Bakhtin to understanding Shostakovich’s music—theories of ‘carnival’ and ‘registers,’ voiced in discourse. Since then, others have likewise found Bakhtin’s concepts helpful (see the Chapters in Part II of Pauline Fairclough’s multi-author edited volume, plus Chapter 6 and the Epilogue in Judith Kuhn’s book, links below). They examine Shostakovich’s musical language, exploring controversies pertaining to the composer’s labile and contradictory meanings.

T hese authors give an account of the diverse interpretations by partisans in the musicological “Shostakovich Wars,” reporting that the Wars have demolished the notion of one, fixed meaning in Shostakovich’s music. Political? Hard to tell for sure whether Shostakovich was a loyal communist or a dissident! Expressions of post-modern subjectivity, filled with various voices, inscribing each other, filled with uncertainty? Hard to tell whose narratives these are!

T o me, Shostakovich’s design in Op. 134 seems prophetic of our current hyperlinked, cross-referential age. In each movement I wonder: Is Shostakovich expounding, or quoting, or inline linking (referring to the expressions of others)? Did the Soviet authorities hold him liable for his musical deep linking? for carnivalizing or caricaturizing or referencing Soviet and Western culture? Do Midori and Aydin?

A nd, 40-plus years after it was composed, how should we feel about these deep-link references? Its gestures are “late-20th Century” through and through, and I wonder how it will be received in 50 years or 100. But I am after this performance impressed by it also as a composition about composing—a ‘meta’ commentary about reporting and referencing and linking. It is that aspect of this music that interests me most. And I wonder whether it is that aspect that will contribute most to this sonata’s continuing attractiveness and relevance in the distant future.

T he ‘inner’ sounsdcapes of writing and reading bear resonance of [and refer to, or link to—] ‘outer’ soundscapes... the world is always full of sounds... they enter and depart in processions as events pass us or as we pass them. This is why the music of the streets has no beginning or end but is all middle.”
— Marianne Ping Huang, ‘Gestures of the Unheard,’ in The Novelness of Bakhtin, p.168.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Out of the Depths: Berlinski’s Sinfonia No. 10 for Cello and Organ

H erman Berlinksi’s Sinfonia No. 10 was dedicated to the memory of Milton Feist, a rabbi, music publisher, and friend of Berlinksi’s. Crippled at the age of four by polio, Feist lived his whole life in a wheelchair.

T his life, a never-ceasing struggle against overwhelming power and brutality ... became to all who knew him a metaphor for the triumph of the spirit over a decaying body. Milton Feist was called, after he had passed on, by his ... colleagues 'meir' or “Shining Star.” He was and, through his faith, I still believe he is. The first movement of this Sinfonia is based upon kabbalistic interpretation of the words of Psalm 130. According to kabbalistic tradition it is not from the depths of desperation that we cry unto God. It is into our own depths we must reach... Faith does not merely exist. It must be [summoned into existence and—] acquired from the depths of one’s own being... one must, like Jacob with the angel, fight for it. The cello becomes a metaphor for humans who, groping for wordless prayer and the experience of God, are confronted with a brutal, seemingly impenetrable wall of sound, to be pierced only by deep and abiding faith, which first we must acquire. Only a few among us succeed in this fight, which, after all, leaves all of us somewhat limping. The second movement is based on a melody called: Av-Ha-Rachamim (Merciful Father) attributed to the 19th Century Russian-Jewish composer Abraham Dunayevsky. From a musical point of view it is a set of theme and variations. The hostile wall is slowly overcome, and gives way to prayer which flows towards its intended destination.”
— Herman Berlinski, Program notes at Database of Recorded American Music (DRAM), 1999.

T his week I have thought about Sinfonia No. 10 for cello and organ (1975-76) “Min-Ha-Maakim” [‘Out of the depths’] after I visited with a musician friend who, with others, is embarking on creating a new civic orchestra devoted to the performance of Jewish music.

A nd, following the tragedy in Tucson, I have listened especially to the first movement of this Sinfonia, ‘Min-Ha-Maakim’ (mimma`amaqqiym qerâ'thiykha). Lori Barnet’s cello and Herman Berlinski’s organ plead together, urgently. (In other words, the organ is not just a wall of sound to be fought and pierced by the cello. The two become ‘one’. Possibly this is ‘kabbalistic’? We encounter the depths as hostile ‘otherness’ and discover to our surprise that depths-Я-us. Then we are able to get somewhere.)

I am reminded of the ‘refa na lah’ of Moses’s prayer in Numbers 12:13 (רְפָא נָא לָהּ ; Heal her, please). It is a supplication for those individuals who are suffering, surely. But at the present moment, the plea is equally fitting for our nation as well.

I read in one Hebrew glossary that one meaning of the word ‘maakim’ is ‘precautions’. Apropos, given the events of one week ago. As we listen, hopeful for recovery, we surround ourselves with music that evokes both the concreteness and frailty of the body that each of us inhabits, and the transcendence that can be ours as well. As we stand, grieving, we sing the words of our old culture, a culture that has seen far more than its share of tragedy. As we struggle to learn to be civil or learn to restore civility that has been lost, may we get more out of being civil. Have a listen to this clip and if, like me, it resonates with you, get yourself a copy of the recording (link below). If you are a cellist or organist, maybe you will get yourself a copy of the score. Some useful resources are gathered together in the collection of links below. That is all I have to say. Words fail, music does not.

[50-sec clip, Lori Barnet & Herman Berlinski, Sinfonia No. 10, ‘Min-Ha-Maqqym’, 1.6MB MP3]

T he recording dates from 10 years ago, but cellist Lori Barnet is still today an active freelance musician in the Washington, DC, area. She is cellist for ensembles specializing in the presentation of contemporary repertoire, including Orchestra 2001 in Philadelphia. She is also a member of the Washington Bach Consort. Barnet regularly appears as soloist, recitalist, and chamber artist, and serves as principal cellist with the National Chamber Orchestra and the Washington Chamber Symphony. She is professor of cello at George Washington University and is cello coach for the Montgomery County Maryland Youth Orchestras.

H erman Berlinski received his primary music education at the Landeskonsevatorium Leipzig, graduating with honors in 1932. Forced to leave Germany at the onset of the Nazi regime, he became a student of the Ecole Normale de Musique, studying composition with Nadia Boulanger and piano with Alfred Cortot. Berlinski, formerly a Polish citizen, enlisted as a volunteer in the French Army, receiving the Croix du Combattant Volontaire from the French government for his wartime service. He fled the German occupation of France in 1941, settling in New York. In 1960 he became the first doctoral candidate of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America to earn the degree of Doctor of Sacred Music. He held the posts of organist at Temple Emanu-El, New York, and Minister of Music to the Washington Hebrew Congregation. He was the founder and director of the Shir Chadash Chorale, a choir distinguished by its pioneering programs of historical and contemporary Jewish music. He died in 2001.