Brahms' 'Ein Deutsches Requiem' to be performed this weekend in Bethlehem, Pa.

Call it a bit of shameless self-promotion, but I might as well come clean: This ain't my only writing gig. I also write about music, classical and otherwise, for The Express-Times, a newspaper in Easton, Pa. If you happen to live in the Lehigh Valley and need something non-Halloweeny to do this weekend, the following article might interest you.

The Lehigh Choral Union will perform -- TWICE! -- "Ein Deutsches Requiem" by Johannes Brahms, a choral work well regarded as a marathon for singers and also a rare, secular requiem. (Say that three times fast.)

Back to the shameless self-promotion: Check out the article below about the upcoming concert. The Brahms Requiem has been performed just three times before in the last 30-odd years by the Lehigh Choral Union, according to longtime director Steven Sametz.

Lehigh University's Choral Union to perform Brahms' 70-minute "Ein Deutsches Requiem"

To whet your appetite, here's a video of the first part of the requiem. Listen, enjoy, and discuss in the comments below.

Dmitri Shostakovitch, Symphony No. 8

Anyone who really believes that "hope springs eternal …" ought to become a Seattle Mariners fan.

Or, if that's too painful, listen to Dmitri Shostakovitch's Symphony No. 8. From the first notes you can tell that this won't end with any sunny, upbeat "Ode to Joy"-type finale.

To be fair, Shostakovitch wrote his eighth symphony while

(a) in the middle of World War II; and 

(b) under the Stalin regime. 

So it's understandable that the mood here is rife with tension and palpable drama.

What I like about 20th-century composers is their ability to translate visceral emotion into musical scores. Maybe it's because I was brought up on Loony Tunes. But Shostakovitch does this brilliantly. The first movement starts out with dramatic tension that never lets up for its nearly 23 1/2 minutes. The pacing and tone, that sense of foreboding, lasts for pretty much the entire symphony.

The recording that I found is a gold label Everest recording from 1973. That's the year that U.S. troops began to withdraw from Vietnam, the Watergate hearings started and the Cold War continued to make us all feel we were going to get nuked into oblivion. (Sadly, "Rocky IV" wouldn't come out for another 12 years with its lesson that Americans and Russians could live in peace.) A badge on the front cover hails this as the "first American Recording" of the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra performing Shostakovitch's Symphony No. 8.

I admit, I had hoped the liner notes, which are plentiful and in tiny type, would discuss the historic significance of the recording itself. But no. I guess in 1973, anything that said "Moscow" and was for sale in the United States must have been so obviously historic as to render further discussion unnecessary.

So we are left to simply appreciate the music for the historical context in which it was written, not in which the recording was made. That's OK. The Symphony No. 8 celebrates the triumph of the Red Army over the Nazis in World War II, but where Shostakovitch excels here is conveying the sense of devastation and wartime chaos.

What grabs me the most is the composer's use of the entire orchestra. When I first heard Brahms' first symphony, I was struck by the lack of percussion. No worries here. Everyone, including the tympanist, gets a workout. Symphony No. 8 uses brass, woodwinds, strings and bombastic drumbeats to set the mood and create the tense atmosphere that keeps your attention all the way through, even in the lengthy fourth movement:

Though the Soviets triumphed over the invading German Army (spoiler!), the Symphony No. 8 doesn't end with anything like a patriotic finale to celebrate the military victory. As I said in the beginning, Shostakovitch doesn't go for happy endings.


As a recording, the quality of this 37-year-old record holds up well. The dynamics are intact – important when you have such a bombastic piece – and the record surface, as you can hear, is more or less free of the pops and clicks that can get in the way of enjoying older recordings. For a buck, this was definitely worthwhile. You might be able to find it on CD, but the best I could do was an 11-disc set of the complete Shostakovitch symphonies conducted by Kiril Kondrashin, the man who conducted the Moscow Philharmonic on the 1973 Everest recording.

That may be overkill, but as Symphony No. 8 has taught me, sometimes there's no such thing.

In search of good autumn classical music

Well, that's it for summer. The temperature dropped, the skies turned gray and the time for wool socks has arrived.

Fall is here and I'm in need of some good classical music to get me in the mood. Besides the obvious -- "Autumn" in Vivvaldi's "Four Seasons" -- anyone have any suggestions?

For starters, this guitar adaptation of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" makes for good rainy day weather. But that's all I have for ideas. Let's discuss.

GVE2XXQAGVMK

REVIEW: 'Bach and Friends' on DVD

It may be suicidal to say this, but if you want to learn about composers, ask a musician, not a music critic. Often people who make music can talk about it in ways that nonmusicians can understand without resorting to jargon.

That's what makes "Bach and Friends," a two-hour documentary by Michael Lawrence, so enjoyable. The film explores the life and works of Johann Sebastian Bach not through the eyes of historians and academics, but from the perspective of musicians who play his works. Through the nearly two hours of interviews and performances Lawrence hammers home a consistent theme: Bach is important because his music is fun.

Well-known names in the classical world figure prominently in the documentary: Manuel Barrueco, Phillip Glass, the Emerson String Quartet. Lawrence also spoke to musicians who made their names outside the classical world, including bluegrass legend Bela Fleck, bassist Edgar Meyer and ukelele player Jake Shimabukuro.

But this is not a documentary for musicians. Lawrence makes the case that Bach's music is universal – literally, if you consider that the composer's recordings are on the Voyager spaceship that is right now hurtling through the galaxy. The people interviewed talk about Bach's music and life in a way that makes the composer grounded and, more importantly, accessible. That's demonstrated in interviews with Fleck and Chris Thile, the mandolin player and former lead singer of Nickel Creek. They argue that folk musicians have embraced Bach's music recently. Thile says he gets the biggest audience reaction when he throws some Bach into his concerts.

Even at two hours, Lawrence doesn't tell the complete picture. Musically, the film focuses on Bach's pieces for specific instruments – organ, cello, clarinet – and his famous works like the Goldberg Variations, the Chaconne and his many, many fugues. Bach's choral works and his church music, such as the Mass in B Minor are noticeably absent.

But that's a minor shortcoming of an otherwise well-produced documentary. "Bach and Friends" succeeds at not only telling why Bach is still beloved, but also showing it.

Check out the trailer for the film below. You can contact Michael Lawrence here.

Aaron Copland, 'The Copland Album,' Leonard Bernstein, conductor

Call it predictable, but I like Aaron Copland's "Appalachian Spring" above all his other works. "Billy The Kid" never held my interest much; same with "Rodeo."

The latter piece is also the unfortunate victim of over-exposure, as the "Hoe Down" bit has been used ad nauseum in those "Beef: It's What's For Dinner" commercials. Not Copland's fault, I know. But the damage is done.

So I was thrilled to find this recording, a double-album of some of the American composer's greatest hits, at a thrift shop. Besides the great cowboy cover art, the record contains, as you'd expect, "Appalachian Spring." It also serves as a good introduction to the man's most well-known works, along with some pieces I hadn't heard of: "El Salon Mexico" and the dance from "Music for the Theatre." Leonard Bernstein conducted the New York Philharmonic on this album.

Only four songs from "Rodeo" appear on the record: "Buckaroo Holiday," "Coral Nocturne," "Saturday Night Waltz" and the aforementioned beef jingle. But the selections demonstrate that Copland was a believer in bringing the full firepower of a symphony orchestra into his works. You've heard the term "minimalist composer?" I got the impression from this record that Copland was a maximalist.

Soothing and mellow this ain't, that's for sure. Other composers, especially the Romantics like Beethoven, Brahms, etc., can be heard either with full attention or just as background music. "The Copland Album," through its sheer brashness (or is that brassness?) demands the listener's ear.

Jazz isn't for everyone, of course. The records' liner notes say that one critic, disgusted with the jazz elements in this 1925 piece, said Copland's "music betrays as a whole a great anxiety to be modernistic while the modernist lamp holds out to burn."

To be fair to Copland, that critic probably thought rock 'n' roll was just a fad. So screw him.

The best surprise on the album is "El Salon Mexico," a suite that I hadn't heard before. The strings sound lush without sounding too sentimental, and Copland uses a subtle touch as he incorporates what sound like mariachi rhythms into the piece.

"The Copland Album" came out in 1970 on the Columbia Masterworks label. Phillip Ramey, an American composer who was 39 years younger than Copland, wrote an essay about meeting the legendary man the previous year. Copland turned 70 in 1970 and died in 1990. Ramey, who just turned 70 last year, is an author as well as a musician. I don't know if this essay has appeared anywhere else in print. If you're a diehard Copland fan (or Ramey fan, for that matter), it's worth picking up the album just for the essay.

You can find the LP at Amazon, for prices ranging from $3.20 to $67.69. A CD called "The Ultimate Copland" has many of the same songs on it, but not performed by Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. That may not make a difference to you.

Fun fact: Weezer used the same Shaker hymn that Copland incorporates into "Appalachian Spring" as the basis for their song "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived" on their 2008 self-titled album.

What do you think of Aaron Copland? What do you think of Weezer? Leave a comment.

More 'Mad' Max Bruch: 'Kol Nidrei'

Sadly, I don't own a copy of this recording (yet). But I had Max Bruch on the brain after listening to his first violin concerto and found this clip of "Kol Nidrei" while searching the Internets for other works by him.

It still has that melancholy air of the piece I wrote about before, but this time, thankfully, no visions of "Young Frankenstein" danced through my head.

What do you think is an underappreciated work of genius? Discuss in the comments. Meanwhile, enjoy the music:

Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto No. 1; Ivry Gitlis, violin

You ever watch a movie and see an actor whose name you forget, but whose face you recognize? Then when you spot the actor you think, “Oh yeah; I forgot I like him/her.”

Actually, if your thoughts really use the phrase “him/her,” get your vision checked.

But I go through that same kind of recogition every time I listen to the works of Felix Mendelssohn. He’s not someone I listen to often, but every time I do, I marvel at how much I like his work.

Mendelssohn, in short, is the J.K. Simmons of classical composers.

My most recent discovery of something I already knew occurred when I got a copy of the album "Violin Concerti," featuring Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto No. 1 in E Minor, and the Violin Concerto No. 1 in G Minor by Max Bruch. The violinist is the excellent Ivry Gitlis, an Israeli musician who was born in Haifa in 1922 and worked in a British munitions factory during World War II.

Gitlis is joined by the Pro Musica Symphony of Vienna, conducted by the late Hans Swarowsky.

This album demonstrates the biggest joy of collecting inexpensive vinyl: the discovery of artists you want to learn more about. I had not heard of Gitlis before hearing this record. Now I want to hear more.
Mendelssohn's concerto starts with a haunting little solo on the E string that draws you in and holds your attention.

From there the piece continues as variations on that initial theme.

Violinists have a reputation, fair or not, for having a flair for the overdramatic, or showing off excessively. What's great about this recording is Gitlis doesn't do anything to excess. He plays with a simple elegance that makes the concerto fun to listen to. Gitlis' violin is almost heartbreaking in its beauty during one of the slower movements before the finale.

I won't put the finale here – I don't want to ruin the ending for you – but I will share another one of my favorite bits, where Mendelssohn gets playful with the violin. It's all part of the build, but it's an unexpected moment of levity before the grand climax.

Max Bruch

On to side two: Max Bruch's concerto is much more melancholy. In fact, listening to the opening movement reminded me of Frau Blucher leading Dr. Frankenstein ("that's Franken-STEEN!") into his grandfather's lab in the Mel Brooks classic "Young Frankenstein."

Listen to a version of the lullaby from the movie:



That sense of sadness -- in Bruch's piece, that is, not Brooks' -- pervades the piece, even when Gitlis is able to pick up the tempo and the rest of the orchestra jumps in. The result is louder, but it's not any more cheerful.

This makes the last movement seem all the more jovial, considering the bleak landscape Bruch presented us with in the beginning. By the end, he sounds downright -- dare I say it -- peppy!

Except the finale, not much about this concerto really grabbed me the way the opening of the Mendelssohn piece did. But I did like the fact that Bruch seems to follow a narrative throughout his work. If not a narrative, then at least a consistent tone.

But if I were the type to compare two sides of the same album, I'd have to give the edge to side one. Max Bruch was a hell of a composer, but he's no J.K. Simmons.

I mean, um, you know, that other guy. Whatshisname.

By the way, both of these pieces are on a CD called "The Art of Ivry Gitlis," if you want to find a recording of your own in a slightly more portable format than a 12-inch vinyl record.

What violin concertos do you like? How wrong was I to make a Mel Brooks reference in a classical blog post? Discuss in the comments.

Easing into Opera with Rossini overtures

Certain types of well-established music I simply don't get. I admit it. Jazz is one. Opera is another, although I'm starting to appreciate it some more. The Luciano Pavarotti album I wrote about a while back certainly helped. (Maybe one of you opera lovers can enlighten me.)

But one entry-level way to learn to appreciate the art form is through overtures (classic Looney Toons work just as well). So this morning I put on a record I hadn't listened to yet: "The Rossini Overture Album," released on Columbia Masterworks in 1979.

Perhaps overtures are the gateway drug to the genre: the cough medicine that leads to a lifetime of heroin use, if you will.

So here's a video of the overture to "The Barber of Seville," for no other reason than I hope it helps brighten your morning:

What do you consider your favorite classical music?

I started looking back on the works that I've written about here and I'm starting to doubt this whole experiment. Maybe it's where I find the albums, but with few exceptions, I don't think anything that I've found would make it on a Top 10 list.

I mean, there is Luciano Pavarotti's quasi- "Greatest Hits" album, which is a fun record. And the "Strauss Waltzes" has some classics on there. But the Brahms Symphony No. 1? I like it, but he knew he was no Beethoven. He was right, too. And the less I can say about Ravel's "Bolero," the better. (But I do like the album cover.)

So over the next couple of weeks I'm going to step it up a little bit. The aim is to find inexpensive classical music, right? So I'm going to write about records I found that are better than inexpensive: They're free.

To me, at least.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine -- and regular reader of this blog -- gave me about a half-dozen vintage classical albums, featuring the works of Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn and some other big names.

But before I get into writing about that, let's open up the floor. This site has some top 10 lists of classical CDs. What would make your list? Discuss in the comments.

A full listen to "Benvenuto Cellini Overture" by Hector Berlioz

I am not an expert on the "fair use" doctrine in copyright law. That's why I only post snippets of the recordings I write about here. I don't believe in giving away music, but I would like to provide you, the reader, a chance to hear the records I find.

So barring the risk of a lawsuit, I figure I'll just post YouTube videos every now and then of pieces that I like. I couldn't find any videos of Charles Munch conducting the Paris Conservatory Orchestra (as I wrote about earlier), but in the video below you can listen to the entire "Benvenuto Cellini Overture." I wouldn't post "Bolero." I don't want to bore you.

Why are classical albums so cheap?

You're looking at $3 worth of music right here. 

The whole basis for this blog is the contention – supported by lots of inexpensive evidence – that it is possible to amass a respectable collection of classical music without going broke. Vinyl these days is inexpensive, if you know where to look. I’m not talking about the 180g records that new artists now release alongside their CDs. That’s a welcome marketing strategy, believe me, but I didn’t start this blog to write about new records.

My interest lies in the forgotten gems: albums that you can find in the $1 bin at a thrift store, yard sale or music store. Because if you search those bins, the only records available are:

1. lousy pop/rock/easy listening records; or
2. classical albums by the likes of Mozart, Brahms, Ravel and others.

This is not to say that classical music is inherently great and pop music is inherently bad. I love all kinds of music. But once you reach into the bargain bin, the choices seem to be reduced to the above. Given a choice between Ronnie Milsap and Leonard Bernstein, which would you choose?

Yeah, me too.

Part of it may lie in the ubiquity of classical recordings. For one thing, they’ve been around longer than rock ‘n’ roll albums, which only date to the 1950s. And the works of the great composers have been performed and recorded over and over again. So perhaps there’s a glut in classical music that doesn’t exist in later genres.

You could go your entire life without acquiring every recorded version of, say, Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. But there are only so many versions of “London Calling” by The Clash, for instance, or “Abbey Road” by The Beatles. Record collectors are more willing to hold on to rock records – I suspect, based on no scientific evidence.

You know what they say: One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. The upside is that classical albums are more accessible than pop, rock or jazz records – if you have a turntable. (Of course, you can still find bargain-basement classical CDs cheaper than some rock albums).

Since I’ve started this blog in January, I have spent maybe $20 on classical albums. At a respectable independent record shop, that will get you one copy of “Heaven is Whenever” by The Hold Steady and it won’t even buy you the reissue of “Exile on Main Street” by The Rolling Stones. In terms of both quantity and quality, music lovers get a better deal when they go with classical.

Other sites, like the excellent Classical Convert and Get Into Classical, explain why the genre is not just for snooty elitists. So I won’t do that here. But I maintain that if you want to acquire music cheaply, classical is the way to go. Then there’s the added benefit of getting to listen to great music.

In a later post I’ll explain how I get the music from my record player onto this blog, if you’re interested.

Charles Munch and the Paris Conservatory Orchestra: "Bolero"

Like the music or not, you have to admit the album cover's got style.

Proper classical critics never ask the juicy questions, like:

Who was a better French composer: Maurice Ravel or Hector Berlioz?

Luckily, I am not a proper classical critic and thus have no qualms about comparing the two composers, whose lives never overlapped. 

Berlioz, of course, is most famous for his “Symphonie Fantastique” and Ravel for works like “Bolero” and “Sheherezade.” The two men wrote in different styles, in different eras. It’s like comparing Alice Cooper to Mozart or something.

Maybe it’s unfair. But a comparison between Ravel and Berlioz seems inevitable, when the former’s “Bolero” is placed on the same album as two Berlioz overtures: “Corsair” and “Benvenuto Cellini.”

I have to admit – and this is no fault of the recording itself – “Bolero” doesn’t interest me much. Conductor Charles Munch and the Paris Conservatory Orchestra do what they can with limited material, playing the single melody from a single woodwind to a majestic finale with the full sound of the orchestra. But it takes a long time to get from point A to point B, and the journey doesn’t take enough interesting detours.

Again, I blame the source material; “Bolero” was written as a single melody, so conductors had to do what they could to stretch it to an appropriate length (in this case, just over 16 ½ minutes). Ravel may have been ahead of his time with this piece; I bet “Bolero” would make a great basis for an electronica piece.

Side two features the two Berlioz overtures, starting with “Benvenuto Cellini.” Both it and “Corsair” have greater range in mood, though both pieces are shorter than “Bolero.” That’s to be expected from an overture, I suppose, but both work well as stand-alone pieces. Here’s a sample from “Benvetnuto Cellini:”

Despite the scratchiness of the album, the songs are in pretty good shape. The strings stand out in particular on “Corsair,” which has a wonderfully playful bit featuring the strings and brass toward the end:

From what I can tell, this recording of “Bolero” by Charles Munch and the Paris Conservatory Orchestra dates to 1954, according to a University of California-Davis website detailing the orchestra’s chronology and discography. But it must have been recorded before then. Another website indicates Munch was conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra starting in 1949 and was conductor of the Paris Conservatory Orchestra from 1938 to 1946.

So I’m inclined to think this particular recording dates to before 1950, even if the packaging comes from later.

Finding copies is tough, unless you happen upon the LP, as I did. Amazon has several CDs and mp3s featuring “Bolero” with Munch as conductor. A British website has copies of Munch conducting the Paris Conservatory Orchestra on The Corsair Overture. But I would look for the vinyl copy if you’re really interested in this particular recording of these particular pieces.

In my opinion, it’s even suitable for framing.

103rd Bach Festival continues this weekend in Bethlehem, Pa.

If you happen to be in the Bethlehem, Pa., area this weekend, be sure to check out the 103rd Bach Festival, held at various locations. The Bach Choir of Bethlehem is the oldest Bach choir in the United States, according to its website. This is the last weekend of the spring celebration of all things Bach and Baroque.

The centerpiece of the weekend is Saturday's Mass in B Minor, but there are other recitals, concerts and events going on. See the full schedule at bach.org.

And, as a bit of self-promotion, I'm including a link to a story I wrote about the festival for my newspaper, the Express-Times.

You can listen to the Kyrie eleison of Bach's Mass in B Minor below:

Luciano Pavarotti at Lincoln Center, sort of.

Opera can be a tricky business. In college we learned that it’s considered the highest of high art; the first genre that required actors who could sing, or singers who could act, or something like that.

Really, it’s a good excuse to step out in a tux.

But such lofty stature also makes opera hard to swallow for those of us who aren’t classical experts. The singing, most of the time, is in a foreign language. The plots are as intricate as the costumes (and sometimes as silly) and thus take forever to sit through. Frankly, opera is just more interesting if it features a pinball wizard and Pete Townshend’s power chords.

I think the key to winning people over to opera is to start small: short, easily digestible songs, delivered by a charismatic star. It helps if you can do this without spending a ton of money. Luckily, I found just the right album, once again in the $1 bin at my local record store: “Pavarotti: Hits From Lincoln Center.”

Bravo for me.

Few opera stars in the last half-century are as recognizable as Luciano Pavarotti. You didn’t have to know an aria from a – whatever obscure opera term would go here – in order to recognize the man. He was on TV! He toured the world! He performed with the Spice Girls! He once hung out on “Sesame Street!”

No diva, he. That’s for sure.

The Italian tenor was not only a great singer; he also sought to make opera accessible to the masses, appearing on PBS as well as “Saturday Night Live” in his career. (And you thought it was only for lip-synchers like Ashlee Simpson.)

Pavarotti further humanized himself by starring in the horrible romantic comedy “Yes, Giorgio.” Yet he could be forgiven because he’s Luciano Pavarotti.

One of his most famous performances took place in 1978, at Lincoln Center in New York City. It was part of the center’s “Great Performers” series and marked the first time that Pavarotti played there. It was just him, his white hankie and a piano.

He performed what has to be the most palatable style of opera: short songs and no Viking helmets. Over nearly two hours (including intermission) Pavarotti performed nearly 18 songs and arias.

In opera terms, that’s got to be akin to The Ramones’ first album, where the punk band sprinted through 14 songs in less than a half-hour.

The recital was broadcast on national television and won Pavarotti an Emmy. Later that year, the album “Hits From Lincoln Center” came out. It won a Grammy in 1979 for Best Classical Vocal Soloist Performance.

There was only one inconsistency: The performances on the TV special and the album were completely different. Yes, the songs were the same (mostly), but they surely sounded completely different. The recital featured just Pavarotti and a piano. The album is a collection of previous recordings, featuring full orchestra in most cases. It includes many of the same songs from the special, but this is not a recording of the special. (Never mind that it’s also 56 minutes, about half the length of his actual performance.)

The songs on the album feature the orchestras almost as prominently as Pavarotti himself. When he sings “E Lucevan Le Stelle” from “Tosca,” the strings are right there with him for each dramatic note. A plaintive oboe sets the tone on “Una Furtiva Lagrima” for Pavarotti’s soaring tenor. And “Nessun Dorma,” which closes the album, makes for a fine finale with its sweeping strings and pounding kettle drums.

None of which the Lincoln Center audience heard on Feb. 12, 1978. This is a case of more is less. Pavarotti’s recital was historic; his first appearance at Lincoln Center and a performance that millions of people watched on television. But the album conveys none of the intimacy or the significance of his concert.

Rather than telling listeners, “This is what the recital sounded like,” the record tells us “These are songs that Pavarotti performed at his recital, but they sounded completely different.”

The counter-argument is that the album, like his TV special (and, for that matter, most of his career) helps advance Pavarotti’s goal of expanding the audience for opera. On that level, it succeeded with me, a little bit, 32 years later.

Provided, of course, that operas can be contained to under an hour.

Andre Kostelanetz and his Orchestra, "Strauss Waltzes"

The waltz could well be the perfect form of classical music for those who grew up on rock ’n’ roll. Waltzes are short, danceable – in their way – and engaging.

They’re also short. Did I mention that?

Probably most importantly, waltzes translate easily into soundtracks of short animated films. I’m pretty sure I first became aware of Johann Strauss not through some cultural program at grade school, but because of the Looney Toons bit where Elmer Fudd plays a badly dressed conductor:



This is also at least one instance where a masterpiece gets improvement. I can’t even listen to “Blue Danube” anymore without replacing those little two-note bursts with “quack-quack, quack-quack.”

Why do I mention all of this? Because of this album: “Strauss Waltzes” by Andre Kostelanetz and his Orchestra, which was recorded in 1959. Frankly, I think the couple in the cover photo look better than expected, for a 51-year-old album. If you look closely you’ll see that the jewelry gets a separate credit. Heh.

What’s most surprising is how well the recording held up. It’s not perfect: Since I started this blog, no album has been more than 30 years old, and none has shown the wear that “Strauss Waltzes” does, in terms of scratches and pops. But the record doesn’t skip or repeat, which is good. The fidelity is also crisp. We’re not dealing with a full orchestra, so the dynamic demands are not as great.

At the same time, the background noises come across, even in the album’s more bombastic moments.

To say that Strauss had a knack for writing waltzes is like saying that Wilt Chamberlain had a knack for shooting baskets; the guy (Strauss) wrote more than 100 of them in his life. Some of his best ones were part of larger works, such as the waltzes from the operettas “The Gypsy Baron” (above) and “Die Fledermaus.” But even standing alone, his waltzes are fun, accessible examples of the romantic movement that was the hallmark of classical music in the 1800s.

The album’s liner notes indicate that Strauss’s waltzes are intimately linked to Vienna, the city that he loved and which loved him back.

“Through the poetic, lyric measures of the Strauss’ waltzes we seem to see the ballrooms of Vienna lighted by hundreds of candles and filled with graceful couples; … above all we are aware of the warmth and magnetism of a vibrant, radiant city.”

Maybe. I didn’t get such imagery listening to the album; but then, my knowledge of Vienna is mostly informed by the novelist John Irving, who wrote about starving bears in the city zoo wandering the streets looking for prey after the end of World War II.

But that’s the beauty of the waltz: It’s such an elegant, three-step dance that can be appreciated without the deep well of musical knowledge you might need for, say, opera, to appreciate. What you need to know is this: Strauss wrote short, lively waltzes that you can dance to, if you’re of the ruffle-and-ball-gown set, or just enjoy if you’re like the rest of us.

Composer Andre Kostelanetz died in 1980. You can still find his recordings easily enough, though. “Strauss Waltzes” is available online for $1 in some places if you want the vinyl experience. Amazon.com has links to a discontinued version of the CD, or an import that, as far as I can tell, has many of the same songs on it.

Listening to George Gershwin

Know what I like the most about listening to classical music on vinyl? Sure, it’s cheap – most of the albums I listen to (and write about here) cost a buck. But more importantly, I like the fact that the record itself is a medium that’s nearly, but not completely, obsolete.

You want obsolete? Try the piano roll. (No relation to the California roll or the lobster roll.)

That’s what George Gershwin, also known as Ira Gershwin’s brother, used to record some of his compositions, including the famous “Rhapsody in Blue” and lesser-known works like “Make Believe” and “Grieving For You.” He recorded many, many more than that, of course. But in 1974 just five of his songs made it onto the album “Gershwin Plays Gershwin,” released by Everest Records.

According to the record’s liner notes, Gershwin’s piano rolls were nothing special at the time he recorded them: “From 1916 through 1925, almost every concert pianist of any prominence made record rolls …”

Side one consists solely of Gershwin performing “Rhapsody in Blue” as a solo piano work. What makes it so fun to listen to, besides the inherent historical value, is the chance to hear Gershwin improvise on his own composition. His speed is impressive but this recording contains flourishes and phrases that I didn’t recognize from the symphonic version.

Of course, the clarinet part in the beginning is absent, so George obviously had to make up for it somehow.

On side two the songs are shorter and jazzier: “Make Believe,” “Grieving For You,” “Land Where the Good Songs Go” and “Some Sunday Morning.” The last two feature faint orchestration in the background. I still haven’t figured out how he pulled that off.

The album has since been reissued on CD and is also available from the Apple iTunes store. But it is far from the only album of piano rolls featuring Gershwin himself at the keyboard. You can find a wide collection of his works on CD besides this one five-song album.

I listened to a sample of the iTunes album. The sound is less muddy than the record I picked up (for $1, or one-tenth the cost of the mp3 album) but the digital version lacks the warmth and dynamic range of the 1974 recording. It's louder, but at the same time, pretty flat.

Although I’m sure that if he had the chance, George would have embraced the mp3.

Your turn. What are your favorite Gerswhin tunes? Discuss in the comments.

Frederic Chopin turns 200 today

 ... Or, at least, he would have, if he lived that long. In any event, today, March 1, is the 200th anniversary of the composer's birth in Poland. His baptismal certificate says he was born Feb. 22, 1810, but whom are you going to believe?

So if you have any Chopin recordings, feel free to talk about them in the comments section. Meanwhile, I found this YouTube clip for your listening pleasure:

Some different takes on a familiar theme: Antonio Vivaldi's “Winter” from “The Four Seasons”

I love the versatility of classical music. Just as the plays of William Shakespeare don't all have to be set in the Renaissance, nor does a violin concerto, say, need to be played with violins.

The blizzard that dumped more than a foot of snow in the last two days on the East Coast got me thinking of Antonio Vivaldi's “Four Seasons.” (I haven't found a $1 copy of it yet, but give me time. I will.) But instead of posting a clip of the usual violin concerto, here are some alternate versions, showing that a violin concerto can be played with a guitar, an accordion and yes, a techno beat.

Which one's your favorite? Is there a version you found that's not here? Feel free to post the link in the comments.

“Winter” on accordion:


Classical guitar adaptation:


Techno version:

Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, Brahms Symphony No. 1

If you like classical music, you must like Brahms.

That’s not a presumption. It’s a requirement. Kind of like, if you drive, you must wear a seat belt, or if you are a cast member of “Jersey Shore,” you must act like a jackass. Same thing with classical music: Love the strings, love the dead German composer.

There’s no better place to start with ol’ J.B. than with his Symphony No. 1 in C Minor. The 45-minute work took him years to compose, according to the liner notes of this particular recording, a 1972 Westminster Gold album that features the excellent Pittsburgh Symphony and some inexplicable cover art:

Why the apple? Why the scale? I have no idea. Westminster Gold was known in the 1970s for its almost surrealistic classical album covers. Feel free to give your interpretation.

Brahms, who by the time he was 20 in 1853 was getting pretty famous, decided early in his career not to compose a symphony, because the task of following in the footsteps of Beethoven was too daunting. He once wrote to a conductor, “You have no conception of how the likes of us feel when we hear the tramp of a giant like (Beethoven) behind us.”

Finally, in 1876, he relented and premiered Symphony No. 1. For a guy who didn’t want to write these to begin with, Brahms was anything but shy with his first crack at it. The first movement starts out with a dramatic flourish and builds the tension from there.

Brahms does this quite a bit, building up the dramatic tension then coming to almost a dead stop, as though he’s about to drive you right off the cliff, then slows the car down to 5 mph
Not until the finale, the “Allegro non Troppo, Ma Con Brio” does Brahms follow a melody through to its logical conclusion. The result is what makes classical music so much fun to listen to. Anyone who thinks the genre is boring needs to pick up this album. If you want boring, check out The Who’s halftime concert at this year’s Super Bowl. (Won’t get fooled again – if only!)

The Pittsburgh Symphony, under the direction of conductor William Steinberg, sounds terrific. But this 38-year-old recording (which at one point was available for $1.49 at Boscov's Department Store) does show its age, with noticeable scratches and pops filling in the silent moments on the record. But the sound quality still sounds better than equivalent “bargain” classical CDs I’ve listened to in the past.

Brahms need not have worried about writing an inadequate symphony. But the man who wrote dozens upon dozens of songs, works for piano and chamber music compositions only completed four symphonies in his life, less than half that of his intimidating predecessor.

What a quitter.

You can find the record (For more than $1) on eBay or amazon.com, or pick up a CD at Amazon, as well (if you must).

Your turn. Have this recording? Know this recording? What do you think? Discuss in the comments.

Young composers, performers featured at Bach Choir concert in Bethlehem

(Full disclosure: I wrote about this concert for The Express-Times, the newspaper where I work.)

As proof that classical music isn't just the legacy of a bunch of dead white guys, the Bach Choir of Bethlehem this weekend will have its 11th annual Family Concert, featuring school-age performers and composers. Alongside the works of Mozart and Johann Sebastian Bach will be new pieces by two high school students and a middle-schooler.

The concert takes place at 3 p.m. Sunday in Baker Hall at Zoellner Arts Center, 420 E. Packer Ave., Bethlehem, Pa. If you get a chance, check it out.

To whet your appetite, here's a video from 1985 of a performance of the Agnus Dei from Mozart's "Coronation" Mass. As a footnote, none of the Family Concert's featured performers or composers were alive when this was filmed:

Why records are better to listen to than CDs

I have long been a fan of the long-playing record, as many of my friends who've been unlucky enough to help me move them can attest. Is it the portability? The ease of use? The compatibility with other listening devices?

Sadly, none of those things. I simply prefer vinyl -- classical or not -- because I think it sounds better. On CD, the music feels muted. More so with mp3 players, but I have to admit those are awfully convenient. Records, with all their scratchy, analog sound, have a wonderful depth to them that I have yet to find elsewhere.

I could go on and on about it, but this discussion thread from a few years ago sums up the arguments nicely for why vinyl beats compact discs.

And in the interest of fairness, here's an article that suggests the whole vinyl superiority thing is just a myth.

What do you think? Discuss in the comments.

Where you can find inexpensive classical music for your turntable

How do you like to listen to music? Take the poll at the left. If you, like me, prefer the LP to the CD, check out some of these sales on classical records:

• In Minneapolis, someone's selling Telarc records for $10 each.
• This person in Oklahoma City has a long list of box sets and individual LPs available, but still higher than my own $1 threshold.
• Of course, on eBay, a search for "classical records" with a sales price of $1 or less brings up a whopping 388 entries. 
• Finally, a seller in Ohio has more than 200 "33 1/2" classical records for sale. The ad says some have never been opened. Make an offer. On the downside, if you don't live near Berea, Ohio, that's a long trip.

Manuel Barrueco, "Works For Guitar" Villa-Lobos, Guarneri, Chavez, composers

When I think of classical guitar, Manuel Barrueco’s name does not immediately come to mind


It’s nothing against him, of course. The Cuban-born guitarist has a well-earned reputation as one of the finest musicians in the world. He has performed with Steve Morse, the guitarist for Deep Purple, and Andy Summers from the Police. Barrueco recorded an album of Lennon-McCartney songs. His 2005 CD, "Concierto Barroco," was nominated for a Latin Grammy for Best Classical Recording.

And he’s a faculty member at the Peabody Institute of the Johns Hopkins University, which is only the oldest music school in the entire country.

Still, I only learned all of this about Barrueco after I found his 1977 album, “Works For Guitar,” in the $1 bin at my friendly neighborhood record store. It must be quite a find; though most of the man’s works can easily be found on CD, his early recordings only get a passing mention in the official bio on his Web site:

"His early recordings, available on VOX, have become a classic amongst guitar recordings."

So I don't know where the 33-year-old "Works For Guitar" stands in the timeline of Barrueco's albums.

(I should have waited until March to discuss the album; then it would be 33 1/3. Get it? Never mind.)