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.