Just four works to go in our journey through clarinetist Allan Rosenfeld's "Top 10 [really 11] Orchestral Clarinet Solos"

THIS TIME: Coming up we have Rimsky-Korsakov, Sibelius, Rachmaninoff, and Kodály

It seems to me I've heard that song before.
It's from an old familiar score.
I know it well, that melody . . . .

[Yes, "that song" is the opening Andante ma non troppo of the Sibelius First Symphony, more or less as it passed that Sunday afternoon in March 1950 from the stage of Carnegie Hall across the country. We indeed heard the New York Philharmonic, but not "under the direction of Victor de Sabata," interesting as that might be to hear. (Recordings of that broadcast do exist!)]

by Ken

I think by now we all know who the conductor and clarinetist on our clip are. Once again we hear once Leonard Bernstein conducting the NY Phil, with the clarinetting provided by Stanley Drucker, the orchestra's principal clarinet, 1960-2009 -- from the orchestra's March 1967 recording of the symphony.I think by now we all know that that clip of the opening of the Sibelius First Symphony is from the March 1967 New York Philharnonic recording conducted by Leonard Bernstein, with the clarinetting provided by Stanley Drucker (1929-2022), the orchestra's principal clarinet, 1960-2009.

What caught my eye on that concert program, though, as I perused the Philharmonic's nifty Digital Archive, was the date of that concert. Stanley D., we recall, joined the orchestra as assistant principal in 1948 (at age 19). If, as seems likely, he was playing the 2nd clarinet part, this would have been his first NY Phil performance of Sibelius 1.

I bring it up because we're going to run into Sibelius 1 as we make our final push -- clear down to No. 1 and beyond -- through Charlotte (NC) Symphony clarinetist Allan Rosenfeld's "Top 10 [really 11] Orchestral Clarinet Solos," posted on the orchestra's Sound of Charlotte Blog in November 2020, played mostly by Stanley D. (So far, down through No. 4, we've heard him play all seven -- today is where the "mostly" kicks in.)

THE LIST SO FAR

Let's have a first look at a project we're going to be undertaking

THERE'VE BEEN NOTABLE UPDATES (SORTA MARKED) SINCE
FIRST POSTING -- NOT PLANNED, THEY JUST KINDA HAPPENED

We note the obvious trend going from performance A to F, right? (With just an interesting variant in the B-C sequence)

[UPDATE NOTE: If you just want to get your toes wet to start, focus just on the Andante con moto section, which ranges -- rather amazingly! -- from roughly 1:25 to 2:40 in our specimens. (This was my original plan anyway for first presentation of these clips, rather than going to the huge hassle, not to mention blog-loading drain, of adding shorter new clips.) Btw, since that first score page took us so close to the end of the Andante non troppo, I've added another chunk to get us there and into the Allegro non troppo.]

[A]

[Allegro moderato at 1:25] Full symphony orchestra, March 1957
[B]

[Allegro moderato at 1:56] Reduced-size orchestra, December 1986
[C]

[Allegro moderato at 1:53] Chamber orchestra, February 1986
[D]

[Allegro moderato at 2:09] Full symphony orchestra, 1988-89
[E]

[Allegro moderato at 2:26] Reduced-size orchestra, June 1958
[F]

[Allegro moderato at 2:42] Full symphony orchestra, October 1970

by Ken

Okay, so maybe a minor derailment here. I was aiming for a post that would in some way tie up our loose ends and dangling threads regarding musical larks, serenades, and the tragic case of Schubert, and also a separate post (or maybe two) to wrap up our Ives explorations (it's looking likelier that we're going to culminate with Ives's most ambitious creations: the Concord Sonata and the Fourth Symphony, which -- even just whizzing through -- are both sizable work units). And this is still the hope. It's just that each of these topics, which we'd all dearly love to be done with, kept throwing up obstacles that sent me in as much of a sideways as a forward direction.

Meanwhile, I've got a good start on another project, which without any such specific intention will actually continue one of the above-enumerated threads, and while the bulk of that project is still in the drawing-board stage, there's enough ready -- or at least there was enough ready once I added some music -- to allow what might have been a mere teaser to stand pretty well on its own.


YOU LIKELY RECOGNIZED THE MUSIC WE JUST HEARD

Sunday Classics holiday edition: It's "The Nutcracker" -- the whole deal! (One more time!)

With the "Nutcracker Suite" sequence of Disney's Fantasia now unavailable, I thought to kick off we'd just look at this little teaser from Helgi Tómasson's San Francisco Ballet staging.

by Ken

[To repeat, this is a second "encore presentation" of 2011's complete-Nutcracker post (the first since since all the way back in 2012!), which I thought came out pretty darned well. As I wrote in 2012, you probably think it's a huge labor-saver just running a post "rerun," and perhaps I thought so too, but it didn't work out that way.]

The plan is pretty simple. As promised in last night's preview, when we heard two quite differently terrific performances of Tchaikovksy's own Nutcracker Suite, today we're going to hear the complete ballet, and chunks of it -- solely at my discretion -- twice!

Pretty much the last thing I added to what you'll see in the click-through is the plot synopsis (filched from Wikipedia). I went back and forth a lot about this, because I really don't pay much attention to plots, or even programs, when I listen to music written for the dance. I'm not a dance person to begin with, and I guess my listening orientation is to allow the music to plug its own built-in "program" into my imagination. Still, in the end it seemed to me that this curious format (for want of a better word) we've got going here at Sunday Classics is actually an extremely good way to hook up the plot and the music.

I'll have some quick (I hope) notes about the specifics when we get to the click-through, so let me just throw out two points about The Nutcracker:

(1) Tchaikovsky really didn't want to write the damned thing. So no, it was about as far from a "labor of love" as you can get.

(2) It was written to share a double bill with one of the composer's less-performed operas, Yolanta, which is the part of the bill that really interested and moved him. It has, in fact, nothing (that I can see or hear) in common with its birth billmate, and it strikes me as an incredibly difficult piece to really bring to life, but as with many difficult, fragile creations, its specialness holds special rewards. It deals, first, with the desperate desire of a very powerful man -- a king, in fact -- to shield a loved one, in this case his only daughter, from pain, in her case the knowledge that she's blind. But in the larger sense it deals with the futility of trying to protect someone from something it's impossible to "protect" her from, like reality. Someday we should undoubtedly talk about Yolanta. (But it's difficult.)


MOVING ON TO OUR COMPLETE NUTCRACKER

It's "The Nutcracker" -- the whole deal! (again -- our last annual encore presentation)

With the "Nutcracker Suite" sequence of Disney's Fantasia now unavailable, I thought to kick off we'd just look at this little teaser from Helgi Tómasson's San Francisco Ballet staging.

by Ken

[To repeat, this is an "encore presentation" of last year's encore presentation of 2011's complete-Nutcracker post, which I thought came out pretty darned well. You probably think it's a huge labor-saver just running a post "rerun." Perhaps I thought so too, but it never works out that way.]

The plan is pretty simple. As promised in Friday night's preview, when we heard (once again) two quite differently terrific performances of Tchaikovksy's own Nutcracker Suite, today we're going to hear the complete ballet, and chunks of it -- solely at my discretion -- twice!

Pretty much the last thing I added to what you'll see in the click-through is the plot synopsis (filched from Wikipedia). I went back and forth a lot about this, because I really don't pay much attention to plots, or even programs, when I listen to music written for the dance. I'm not a dance person to begin with, and I guess my listening orientation is to allow the music to plug its own built-in "program" into my imagination. Still, in the end it seemed to me that this curious format (for want of a better word) we've got going here at Sunday Classics is actually an extremely good way to hook up the plot and the music.

I'll have some quick (I hope) notes about the specifics when we get to the click-through, so let me just throw out two points about The Nutcracker:

(1) Tchaikovsky really didn't want to write the damned thing. So no, it was about as far from a "labor of love" as you can get.

(2) It was written to share a double bill with one of the composer's less-performed operas, Yolanta, which is the part of the bill that really interested and moved him. It has, in fact, nothing (that I can see or hear) in common with its birth billmate, and it strikes me as an incredibly difficult piece to really bring to life, but as with many difficult, fragile creations, its specialness holds special rewards. It deals, first, with the desperate desire of a very powerful man -- a king, in fact -- to shield a loved one, in this case his only daughter, from pain, in her case the knowledge that she's blind. But in the larger sense it deals with the futility of trying to protect someone from something it's impossible to "protect" her from, like reality. Someday we should undoubtedly talk about Yolanta. (But it's difficult.)


MOVING ON TO OUR COMPLETE NUTCRACKER

Preview: A haunting little piece that tells us less than we would think about its composer's roots

Max Bruch (1838-1920)

by Ken

You might think that the haunting brief Adagio (8:53 in the Piatigorsky-Ormandy recording, 9:56 in the Starker-Dorati) we're hearing tonight, based on one of the most solemn of Hebrew chants, is a product of its composer's deeply felt heritage. as Paul Affelder explained in his note for the Starker-Dorati-Mercury recording, this is far from the case.

It is a sort of musical compliment to Max Bruch's long devotion to folk music that what is considered one of his most representative works should have sprung from an alien tradition. Along with his First Violin Concerto, Kol Nidrei, an "Adagio for violoncello based on a Hebrew melody," is today the most frequently heard composition by a composer who was a contemporary of Brahms, but who survived him by almost a quarter of a century. The traditional Hebrew chant has been treated with such conviction, however, by this Lutheran grandson of an eminent German clergyman, that it is more familiar to concertgoers than his earlier Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei (Op. 37).

Bruch had a lifelong devotion to folk music and became somewhat of an authority on Geman, Russian, and Swedish music, some of which he drew upon in his Songs and Dances (Op. 63 and Op. 79). His Adagio on Celtic Melodies and better-known Scottish Fantasy (Op. 46) explore yet other sources, and his deep interest in folk art might well have influenced Vaughan Williams when that celebrated folklorist stuied with him.

International in his travels as in his musical interests, Bruch was serving as conductor of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society at the time he composed Kol Nidrei. It received its first performance, however, at a concert of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra on October 20, 1881.

For the basis of his composition, Bruch quite literally drew upon what is regarded as one of the most sacred of Hebrew melodies, customarily chanted on the even of the Day of Atonement. This prayer, the Universal Jewish Encyclopedia explains, serves to annul "all vows made in any form whatsoever during the course of the year, insofar as they concern one's own person."

The personalized solemnity of the original melody is most appropriately paralleled by the timbre of the solo cello, which intones it first, unadorned. Variations expand on the original theme and lead to a secondary subject, pronounced by the orchestra first, this time, and then assigned to the solo instrument. The original theme is recalled as the work concludes in a somber mood.

BRUCH: Kol Nidrei (Adagio on a Hebrew melody), Op. 47


János Starker, cello; London Symphony Orchestra, Antal Dorati, cond. Mercury, recorded July 1962

Gregor Piatigorsky, cello; Philadelphia Orchestra, Eugene Ormandy, cond. Columbia-CBS-Sony, recorded Dec. 28, 1947


IN THIS WEEK'S SUNDAY CLASSICS POST

If Kol Nidrei is Bruch's second-best-known work, the best-known surely is his G minor Violin Concerto. We'll be listening to it.

#

It's "The Nutcracker" -- the whole deal! (Again!)

With the "Nutcracker Suite" sequence of Disney's Fantasia now unavailable, I thought to kick off we'd just look at this little teaser from Helgi Tómasson's San Francisco Ballet staging.

by Ken

[To repeat, this is an "encore presentation" of last year's complete-Nutcracker post, which I thought came out pretty darned well. You probably think it's a huge labor-saver just running a post "rerun." Perhaps I thought so too, but it never works out that way.]

The plan is pretty simple. As promised in Friday night's preview, when we heard two quite differently terrific performances of Tchaikovksy's own Nutcracker Suite, today we're going to hear the complete ballet, and chunks of it -- solely at my discretion -- twice!

Pretty much the last thing I added to what you'll see in the click-through is the plot synopsis (filched from Wikipedia). I went back and forth a lot about this, because I really don't pay much attention to plots, or even programs, when I listen to music written for the dance. I'm not a dance person to begin with, and I guess my listening orientation is to allow the music to plug its own built-in "program" into my imagination. Still, in the end it seemed to me that this curious format (for want of a better word) we've got going here at Sunday Classics is actually an extremely good way to hook up the plot and the music.

I'll have some quick (I hope) notes about the specifics when we get to the click-through, so let me just throw out two points about The Nutcracker:

(1) Tchaikovsky really didn't want to write the damned thing. So no, it was about as far from a "labor of love" as you can get.

(2) It was written to share a double bill with one of the composer's less-performed operas, Yolanta, which is the part of the bill that really interested and moved him. It has, in fact, nothing (that I can see or hear) in common with its birth billmate, and it strikes me as an incredibly difficult piece to really bring to life, but as with many difficult, fragile creations, its specialness holds special rewards. It deals, first, with the desperate desire of a very powerful man -- a king, in fact -- to shield a loved one, in this case his only daughter, from pain, in her case the knowledge that she's blind. But in the larger sense it deals with the futility of trying to protect someone from something it's impossible to "protect" her from, like reality. Someday we should undoubtedly talk about Yolanta. (But it's difficult.)


MOVING ON TO OUR COMPLETE NUTCRACKER