Our four pianists revealed

UPDATE: Oops, I forgot to include my "ranking" -- see below

NEXT UPDATE: Oops-oops-oops! I was in such a rush this morning that the only audio clips included were the four movement-openers. Now fixed, I hope!

ii. Con moto [With movement]

Performance X

Just the opening

The complete movement

Sviatoslav Richter, piano. Praga, recorded live in the Rudolfinum, Prague, June 14, 1956

by Ken

And here again are the other performances we heard earlier today:

What effect (if any) does this 32-second audio clip have for you?

HOW 'BOUT THESE PERFORMANCES -- SAME EXCERPT?

Performance A


Performance B


Performance C


by Ken

I'll tell you what effect that top clip has for me: It makes me want really badly to hear whatever follows it.

No, we're by no means done with Dvořák -- or Brahms, for that matter. (Parenthetically, isn't it curious how our inquiries into how Brahms became the composer he was have accidentally detoured into Dvořák, a composer Brahms ardently championed, and who was so strongly influenced by him. Different as the two men were, in so many important ways they can seem like almost the same person.) But while the next installments are writing themselves -- at least I hope they are, 'cause I sure don't seem to be making much headway writing them -- I thought I would throw out this performance I mentioned awhile back which kind of clobbered me, now that this particular missing CD has resurfaced.

In a moment we're going to hear the complete movement of which what we're going to call "Performance X" is the opening 32 seconds, and even read some words of Wikipedia-gleaned wisdom, or at least information, about it. What we're not going to do, I think, is identify either the work or the performer -- just so you're not unduly influenced in your listening by these names. Unless of course you recognize one or both. Which might not be that difficult, since the work is hardly an obscure one, and I'm not sure the pianist could be anyone other than who he is. (Okay, yes, it's a "he.")

I WILL SAY THIS MUCH --

This week's post could go in several directions -- while we wait, here's some mighty fine music

i. Lento maestoso -- Allegro vivace
ii. [at 4:04] Poco adagio -- Vivace non troppo

Josef Suk and longtime Suk Trio colleagues Jan Panenka, piano. and Josef Chuchro, cello, play the first two (of six) movements of Dvořák's Dumky Trio (Piano Trio No. 4 in E minor, Op. 90), in a May 1978 Supraphon-Denon recording.

DVOŘÁK: Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104:
iii. Finale: Allegro moderato


Yo-Yo Ma, cello; New York Philharmonic, Kurt Masur, cond. Sony, recorded in Avery Fisher Hall, Jan. 27 and 30, 1995

#

Dvořák comes to the New World -- plus afterthoughts on last week's audio clips

The first page of the contract (put on public display in 2013 after being recently rediscovered) proffered by Mrs. Jeannette Thurber and signed by Antonín Dvořák in 1892 which brought the composer to New York to serve as director of her new National Conservatory for Music [from a photo by Chang W. Lee for The New York Times]

It was an audacious act of Gilded Age New York. Jeannette Thurber, a wealthy patron trying to create not just a new American music school but, more broadly, a new American school of music, decided in 1891 to hire one of the greatest composers of the day: Antonin Dvorak.

She offered him $15,000 a year — more than 25 times what he made at home in Prague — and promised him summers off. In exchange, she made him promise to work regular hours six days a week at her school, instruct “the most talented pupils only” and conduct concerts.

After months of trans-Atlantic negotiations, they eventually struck the deal that brought Dvorak to New York City in 1892 for an eventful three-year sojourn to lead Mrs. Thurber’s National Conservatory of Music of America — a period in which he composed some of his best work, including his American-inflected “New World” Symphony and Cello Concerto. . . .

-- Michael Cooper, in The Times, Aug. 24, 2013

Vienna Philharmonic, Rafael Kubelik, cond. Decca, recorded in the Sofiensaal, October 1956

by Ken

The last time I took the walking tour that Francis Morrone calls "Dvořák in Love" (a title borrowed from the novel by the Czech-Canadian novelist Josef Škvorecký, which takes off from the true-life story of the composer's three-year sojourn in the U.S., Francis gave me a quizzical look and asked, hadn't I already taken this tour?

Before I get to my answer, I should explain that while the title Dvořák in Love to most of us suggests some sort of romantic dalliance, in fact, as a Goodreads blurb puts it, "This splendid novel tells the story of Dvorak's utterly requited love affair with America."

Now, back to Francis's question. I acknowledged that I had taken the tour before, and explained that, first, even among Francis's tours, than which walking tours don't get any better, this one had left a powerful imprint in my imagination, and, second, given how much I forget of what I "learn" on a tour (my standard estimate is that I remember on a good day maybe 10 percent of what I've been told), not to mention how much probably never properly registered, I wanted a chance to "fix" more of the tour in my brain.

I might have added something I know from experience of other tours of Francis's that I've done more than once: that even when he repeats a tour, it isn't exactly the same tour. Not to mention that on the later occasion(s) I'm not exactly the same person I was.


I STILL MEAN TO TALK ABOUT THE "DVOŘÁK IN LOVE" TOUR,
BUT LET'S GET BACK TO THE BIT OF MUSIC WE JUST HEARD

For one thing, it was Francis who got me to thinking about Josf Suk and Kurt Masur as they relate to the subject of Dvořák, as you may have noticed in last week's post -- and maybe not just on that subject, which will also involve some more talk and, more happily, more music. I wasn't surprised, when I took a look in the Archive, to see how much from each of these special performers we've heard. This wasn't planned; it just happened that way.

And speaking of last week's post, I also want to make some remarks of a housekeeping nature about the audio clips, which I'm emboldened to want to talk about a bit -- just not right now.

What we've wound up with: (1) We inch our way back toward Dvořák's New World Symphony, and (2) We explore the problem of stuff going missing, G&S-style*

*Technically this should be "B&S-style," I know, but there's no such thing, is there? -- Ed.

UPDATE: I GIVE UP! THOSE CDs I NEEDED, WHICH I HAD LYING
ABOUT OR IN MY HAND, ARE MIA -- LET'S JUST GET ON WITH IT
(No "Schubert piano performance that knocked me over," for now)

When, in 1997, this statue of Dvořák by the Croatian-American sculptor Ivan Meštrović found a new home near the northern edge of Manhattan's Stuyvesant Square, it constituted a "homecoming" of sorts. There's a story here, and a personal story, er, inside the story which involves a remarkable walking tour and two remarkable musicians who both have powerful connections -- of very different sorts -- to the great Czech composer.

DVOŘÁK: Violin Concerto in A minor, Op. 53:
iii. Finale: Allegro giocoso, ma non troppo

Josef Suk, violin; Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, Karel Ančerl, cond. Supraphon, recorded in the Rudolfinum, Prague, August 1960

DVOŘÁK: Piano Trio No. 4 in E minor, Op. 90 (Dumky):
the first two of the trio's six movements --
i. Lento maestoso -- Allegro quasi doppio movimento -- Lento maestoso (Tempo I) -- Allegro
ii. Poco adagio -- Vivace non troppo -- Poco adagio -- Vivace

[ii. at 4:04] Suk Trio: Josef Suk, violin; Josef Chuchro, cello; Jan Panenka, piano. Supraphon-Denon, recorded in the Domovina Studio, Prague, May 11-13, 1978

DVOŘÁK: Symphony No. 8 in G, Op. 88:
i. Allegro con brio

New York Philharmonic, Kurt Masur, cond. Teldec, recorded live in Avery Fisher Hall, Jan. 1-4, 1993

DVOŘÁK: Slavonic Dance No. 15 in C, Op. 72, No. 7

Gewandhaus Orchestra (Leipzig), Kurt Masur, cond. Philips-Deutsche Schallplatten, recorded 1984-85

by Ken

Nothing continues to come together right, but we forge ahead, with one qualification: Tomorrow I'm going to the Richmond County Fair, come hell or high waters. On second thought, we best not kid around about "high waters, of which we Gothamites had a plentiful share this week. In fact, I'm going to have to check the website to make sure the fair is up and running -- they were supposed to open yesterday, which would have been quite a feat so soon after the deluge.

Anyway, that's my nonnegotiable schedule delimiter, and it remains to be seen how far further I can get tonight, especially with multiple CDs going missing on me. Meanwhile, these audio clips are ready to roll, so why don't we let them? (For the record, as it were, three of the four clips so far in place are Sunday Classics premieres, I think -- I did find an older version of one of the three in the Archive.)


FOR NOW, WE CAN AT LEAST HAVE THE STORY
OF THE STATUE THAT "FOUND ITS WAY HOME"

Soon to be a post of some sort (or maybe not), for anyone in need of some bucking up (courtesy of the master bucker-up, W. A. Mozart)

FRIDAY UPDATE: Now doubled in size!
(See "BACK TO THE BEGINNING" addition below)

Gerhard Unger as David in Die Meistersinger at Bayreuth, 1951

MOZART: Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio), K. 384:
Act II, Aria (Pedrillo), "Frisch zum Kampfe" ("Brightly into battle")



Gerhard Unger (t), Pedrillo; Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Thomas Beecham, cond. EMI, recorded in Kingsway Hall, May 9-25, 1956

Gerhard Unger (t), Pedrillo; Vienna Philharmonic, Josef Krips, cond. EMI, recorded in the Theater an der Wien, February 1966

Murray Dickie (t), Pedrillo; Vienna Philharmonic, George Szell, cond. Live performance from the Salzburg Festival, July 25, 1956

Michel Sénéchal (t), Pedrillo; Paris Conservatory Orchetra, Hans Rosbaud, cond. Live performance from the Aix-en-Provence Festival, July 11, 1954

Robert Gambill (t), Pedrillo; Vienna Symphony Orchestra, Bruno Weil, cond. Sony, recorded in the Sofiensaal, Apr. 2-10, 1991

Plácido Domingo, tenor; Munich Radio Orchestra, Eugene Kohn, cond. EMI, recorded in Bavarian Radio Studio 1, January 1991

by Ken

While I continue to struggle -- or maybe not so much "struggle" as "be paralyzed by" -- writing about things that oughtn't to be that difficult, more of a struggle than with some other things I expected would be hard, I thought I could use some bucking up. Which for me means channeling the master bucker-up, in particular a number that would do the job for me if music could really do this job: Pedrillo's Act II aria, in which he does his best to buck himself up -- to give himself courage he's probably pretty sure he doesn't have. With [UPDATE! now --] two exceptions, we've heard the performances arrayed above before. I don't see why we shouldn't hear them again, though.

Plot-function-wise Pedrillo, the second tenor of Die Entführung aus dem Serail, is a comic foil to the romantic lead, Belmonte. Still, it can be a swell role, with a string of great ensemble and also solo opportunities. It's written for what's usually called a Spieltenor, a "play" or comic tenor, of which perhaps the most distinguished recorded specimen we have is Gerhard Unger (1916-2011), who sang, and I mean really sang, these roles for so long with such distinction. And he needed all his vocal resources for Pedrillo's bravura aria, which takes him high up and drops him way down -- notably in all the settings of that line that so haunts Pedrillo, "Nur ein feiger Tropf verzagt" ("Only a cowardly rascal loses heart"). With regard to the "Frisch zum Kampfe" with Beecham, I have to say, doesn't Sir Thomas create a whoppingly grand -- I think we might say utterly battle-worthy -- framework?

[UPDATE -- re, our 2nd "new" clip (for the 1st, see below):