Geoff Nuttall (1965-2022)

"Geoff was an inspired artist whose loyalty to his chosen passions and people was legendary. . . . Geoff had an energetic and spiritual connection to music that rubbed off on anyone lucky enough to witness him play."

-- from a statement by Geoff's St. Lawrence String Quartet-mates,
reported in an Oct. 20 news post on the website of The Strad
(you can read the full statement on the SLSQ website)

The St. Lawrence String Quartet (violinists Geoff Nuttall and Owen Dalby, violist Lesley Robertson, and cellist Christopher Costanza) plays the first movement, Allegro con spirito, of Haydn's Quartet in G minor, Op. 20, No. 3, in Stanford University's Bing Concert Hall. (The May 2017 YouTube posting says, "The complete Op. 20 will be made available online for free.")

If you watch the intense Haydn Op. 20, No. 3 clip (above), which accompanies the obituary from the esteemed chronicle of all things string-instrment-related, The Strad (below), and read in the obit what all Geoff Nuttall was up to in his crowded musical life, I think it will strike you too that 56 was way too early for his departure. Kindest thoughts to his families both actual and musical.-- Ken

Just so you know what we're up to: Three familiar larks, a bonus lark, and (oh yes!) Death and a maiden

Alauda (the Eurasian or Oriental skylark)

"[Larks] have more elaborate calls than most birds, and often extravagant songs given in display flight. These melodious sounds (to human ears), combined with a willingness to expand into anthropogenic habitats -- as long as these are not too intensively managed -- have ensured larks a prominent place in literature and music, especially the Skylark in northern Europe and the Crested Lark and Calandra Lark in southern Europe." -- Wikipedia

VAUGHAN WILLIAMS: The Lark Ascending (romance for
violin and orchestra)

Jean Pougnet, violin; London Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Adrian Boult, cond. EMI, recorded in Abbey Road Studio No. 1, Oct. 21, 1952

Hugh Bean, violin; New Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir Adrian Boult, cond. EMI, recorded in Abbey Road Studio No. 1, Mar. 1, 1967

[NOTE: Sir Adrian Boult (1889-1983) of course had a warm relationship with Ralph Vaughan Williams, and remains for me on the whole his most persuasive recorded exponent. And much as I love the more spacious and colorful 1967 recording (which was my first Lark Ascending), with a suitably engaged performance of the solo violin part by New Philharmonia concertmaster (among his wide range of musical activities) Hugh Bean (1929-2003), I'm happy to have as well the more streamlined 1952 one, which though mono still sounds awfully good, and has a really subtly inflected solo performance by Jean Pougnet (1907-1968), whose unsummarizably diverse personal and professional history is worth looking into. -- Ed.]

by Ken

A couple of further projects cropped up in last week's, er, post, "Taking our good old time with the Gabrieli String Quartet." Yes, I know, I'm still supposed to be going over the whole thing to make a proper post out of all the ingredients, and I really, really still mean to -- any day now, or maybe any week. What mattered most to me was that the music was, or at least should have been (I make no assumptions about what's there till I muster the courage to look at it), all in place.


FIRST, WE'RE IN THE GRIP OF . . . LARKMANIA!

Taking our good old time withthe Gabrieli String Quartet

[STILL STITCHING THE THING TOGETHER, BUT THE MUSIC IS ALL IN PLACE (I THINK!)]

MONDAY MORNING UPDATE: I'm still stitching, and have to pause the effort. As it turned out, there was more music added, but I think now it's all here. (Further consideration of Schubert's song "Death and the Maiden," which we hear here, will come in a separate post.

The Gabrieli Quartet of the era 1969-86: violinists Kenneth Sillito and Brendan O'Reilly, cellist Keith Harvey, and violist Ian Jewel, whom we heard last week playing the first and second movements of . . .

BRAHMS: Clarinet Quintet in B minor, Op. 115:
ii. Adagio


Keith Puddy, clarinet; Gabrieli Quartet (Kenneth Sillito and Brendan O'Reilly, violins; Ian Jewel, viola; Keith Harvey, cello). Classics for Pleasure-EMI, released 1970

by Ken

It was over the identification of the players in this recording, for the EMI-affiliated budget-price Classics for Pleasure label, that I got bogged down in last week's "Do I hear a clarinet?" In the Gabrieli's early recordings, strangely, the individual musicians weren't identified, and even in a CD reissue still weren't. As regular readers know, in this department we like to know who the people are who are performing for us.

For three-fourths of the early Gabrieli String Quartet there's no problem. From its founding, in 1966 or 1967 (we'll come back to this in a moment), until the departure of its founding first violinist two decades later, there was only one change of personnel: Sometime in 1969 the original second violinist, Claire Simpson, gave way to Brendan O'Reilly. I don't know when in 1969, but I do know, at least according to the original Classics for Pleasure LP label (which we saw last week), that the Brahms Clarinet Quintet recording was published (I still don't know when it was made) sometime in 1970, the year Classics for Pleasure was born. Was there time for Brendan O. to take his place with the quartet in time for the recording? Or might Claire S. still have been in place?

Admittedly, I further confused the point by mis-associating an entirely other young violin-playing Claire Simpson, who suffered a gruesome fate at the knife-wielding hands of a jealous ex-boyfriend, with the Gabrieli's second violinist. I thought I knew why Claire S. had left the Gabrieli; now I have no idea, just that according to Wikipedia a Simpson-to-O'Reilly succession happened sometime in 1969. However . . . .


A NEW CONFUSION ARISES IN MY GABRIELI TIMELINE

It surprised me that one of the Gabrieli Quartet's earliest recordings should have been a quintet with a clarinet soloist. Now it appears that before they recorded the Brahms quintet -- as much as three years before -- they had recorded the Mozart Clarinet Quintet, also with Keith Puddy. And now I realize that the association with Keith P. actually predates the formation of the Gabrieli String Quartet. In a 2003 interview for the Internet Cello Society, Keith Harvey, speaking of his time as principal cello with the English Chamber Orchestra (after some five years as the very young principal cello of the London Philharmonic) recalled:

During my time in the English Chamber Orchestra, the co-leader Kenneth Sillito and I, together with the pianist John Streets and clarinettist Keith Puddy, formed the Gabrieli Ensemble, which later became the Gabrieli String Quartet. In the Ensemble, we performed Messaien's Quartet for the End of Time at least two hundred times. The composer was present at one of these performances and wrote a glowing appreciation.

Let's leave for another the alarming image of four people performing the Quartet for the End of Time, in a fairly short span of time, 200-plus times. (It's not a terribly long piece, really, but in performance it always seems to me to last for two or three weeks. It amazes me that a piece can be simultaneously so tedious and so repulsive.) So Keith P. was already partnering with Kenneth S. and Keith H. before there even was a Gabrieli String Quartet!

A theory about the quartet's origin date: Maybe 1966 is when the oddly configured quartet calling itself the Gabrieli Ensemble was born in 1966, and 1967 the Gabrieli String Quartet in 1967. Of course this doesn't leave an awful lot of time for those 200-plus performances of the Quartet for the End of Time. So all we can say for sure is that somewhere in there the transformation took place. And in any case, it's interesting that the year 1967 should have popped up. Because --


LET'S GET BACK TO THE MOZART CLARINET QUINTET

Do I hear a clarinet?

Here, more or less, is where we're going to wind up
[I know I sometimes (or maybe often!) keep it to myself -- make it a little surprise! -- where we're headed, musically speaking, but not this time. -- Ken]

i. Allegro [no exposition repeat]
ii. Adagio [at 9:07]

Keith Puddy, clarinet; Gabrieli Quartet (Kenneth Sillito and Brendan O'Reilly (probably, but possibly Claire Simpson), violins; Ian Jewel, viola; Keith Harvey, cello). Classics for Pleasure-EMI, recorded in the U.K., released 1970

But this is where our story -- and there is a little story -- starts

Wait, the saxophone's a Woodwind Family member? Hmm . . . okay, sorta.

But really, at the moment it's just two Family members we're interested in.

Duo in C for Clarinet and Bassoon --
i. Allegretto
ii. Larghetto sostenuto [at 3:49]
iii. Rondo: Allegretto [at 5:58]

Members of the Melos Ensemble of London. EMI-Warner Classics, recorded in Abbey Road Studio No. 1, October 1969

by Ken

Yes, yes, Ives and all of that. I'm still trying to make the transition from "Ives the easy way" to "Ives the hard way," moving from the Second to the Third Symphony, with a dip into the violin-and-piano sonatas (and maybe the string quartets?); with the Fourth Symphony and the Concord Piano Sonata looming on the horizon. Though I've also been wondering whether we oughtn't to go back to the First Symphony, so often dismissed as merely Ives's "student" symphony.

Anyway, in some fashion yet to be worked out, that's all coming!

Meanwhile, there was this EMI "double fforte" double-CD set that somehow found its way to a sitting-around-doing-nothing situation. But before we continue with our "little story," a challenge: your best guess (unless you know, in which case it's not much of a challenge, is it?) at to whether --

the charming little clarinet-and-bassoon duo we just heard is by: (a) Haydn, (b) Mozart, (c) Beethoven, (d) Schubert, (e) Schumann, (f) Brahms, (g) somebody else.

SO, LET'S PROCEED WITH THE "LITTLE STORY" --

Afterpost: Gregg Smith & Co.show us that Ives's "bells-and-whistles" version really adds a dimension to "General William Booth Enters into Heaven"

Choral masterworker Gregg Smith (1931-2016)

Archie Drake, bass; Gregg Smith Singers, Columbia Chamber Orchestra, Gregg Smith, cond. Columbia-CBS, recorded in Legion Hall, Hollywood, May 4, 1966
[NOTE: We're going to hear the performance again, with printed vocal text.]

by Ken

My original plan was just to add what follows as an "afterthought" ("Some Afterthoughts on the Performances") to the post "'Jesus came from the courthouse door': 'General William Booth Enters into Heaven' and other, variously irresistible Ives songs," with a note like this:

I'm sure you're tired of hearing about how I don't have a chance to hear audio clips in their post places until a post is posted, and even then not till I can get past the exhaustion of birthing the post. That said, a couple of thoughts.

So I thought it would be better to spin those performances out into an "afterpost."

"Jesus came from the courthouse door": "General William Booth Enters into Heaven" and other, variously irresistible Ives songs

SUNDAY NOONISH UPDATE: Internet Archive seems to have recovered from its outage, so we're back in business.
MONDAY EVENING UPDATE: For "afterthoughts" on the performances
of "General William Smith Enters into Heaven," there's now an "afterpost."

Donald Gramm (1927-1983)  [photo by Christian Steiner]

. . . (Are you washed in the blood, in the blood of the Lamb,
in the blood of the Lamb, the Lamb, of the Lamb, the Lamb?)

Jesus came from the courthouse door,
stretched his hands above the passing poor.
Booth saw not, but led his queer ones,
round and round, round and round and round,
[or: "round and round the mighty courthouse square,"]
and round, and round and round, and round and round . . .

-- text from the Vachel Lindsay poem
"General William Booth Enters into Heaven"

Donald Gramm, bass-baritone; Richard Cumming, piano. Desto, recorded c1964

Donald Gramm, bass-baritone; Donald Hassard, piano. From their Town Hall (New York City) recital of Feb. 24, 1976

Nathan Gunn, baritone; Kevin Murphy, piano. EMI-Warner Classics, recorded in St. Mary's Church, Highgate, London, Mar. 31-Apr. 2, 1998

'I can see him shuffling down, to the barn or to the town': Memories were always close to the heart of Ives's sense of artistic purpose

[POST CONSTRUCTION ZONE -- HARD HATS RECOMMENDED --
OKAY, SO MAYBE WE JUST GO AHEAD AND CALL THIS A POST]

Roberta Alexander and indomitable accompanist Tan Crone

IVES: "Memories":

B, Rather Sad (Adagio)
From the street a strain on my ear doth fall,
a tune as threadbare as that “old red shawl.”
It is tattered, it is torn,
it shows signs of being worn,
it's the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn.
'Twas a common little thing and kind-a sweet,
but 'twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet.
I can see him shuffling down,
to the barn or to the town,
a-hum-[drawn out]-ming. [Hums]

-- text by the composer

Roberta Alexander, soprano; Tan Crone, piano. Etcetera, recorded in the Netherlands, released 1984
The other performances we heard "highlighted" in the last post:

Jan DeGaetani, mezzo-soprano; Gilbert Kalish, piano. Nonesuch, released 1976

Susan Graham, mezzo-soprano; Pierre-Laurent Aimard, piano. EMI-Warner Classics, recorded in the Grosser Saal of the Vienna Konzerthaus, Nov. 6-8, 2003
And these performances (which we've heard before) remind
us that this could be a nephew remembering his uncle:
Gerald Finley, bass-baritone; Julius Drake, piano. Hyperion, recorded in All Saints Church (Durham Road), East Finchley, London, Nov. 1-12, 2004

Jerry Hadley, tenor; Eric Dalheim, piano. Live performance from the Krannert Center for the Performing Arts, University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign), Nov. 14, 2000

by Ken

For personal reasons it was kind of important to me to get some kind of post up, in particular one that advances toward the other end of this detour from the last detour from the previous detour and so on, which produced the post "About this Ives thing, we can do it the easy way, or the hard way; or maybe we have to do it both ways." One thing in particular nagged at me as that post was taking shape, and nagged me even worse once it was posted: that what I was describing as "the easy way" of coming to grips with the Ives legacy was represented only by those three clips of the same under-a-half-minute bit of a song-section that is itself only part of the two-part song "Memories."

I think it made for a darned fine half-minute of music, but in my head I kept hearing and yearning for the full "B" section of "Memories" -- and so here it is. In the process we have also answered the question I posed as to which of those three performances we were going to really focus on. And I hope there are folks who've been here and naturally assumed, noting that Jan DeGaetani was one of the contenders, that she would be the "winner."


LET'S BE PERFECTLY CLEAR: IN THIS GROUPING
OF PERFORMANCES, THERE WASN'T ANY "LOSER"

About this Ives thing, we can do it the easy way, or the hard way; or maybe we have to do it both ways

[MONDAY MORNING UPDATE: The post is more or less reconstructed (if you missed the earlier notice, I cleverly overwrote an essentially complete version of the post with an earlier file that contained just the opening), but I need some sleep before even attempting to read it. I should also find a link for the commentaries Ives included in the Concord score (which he had published himself, along with the volume of Essays Before a Sonata).
[MONDAY EVENING UPDATE: I've fixed some stuff and added some stuff, including a third Decoration Day recording (the Zinman). -- Ken]

(1) A taste of THE EASY WAY

Not quite half a minute from the "B" section, "Rather Sad," of Ives's song "Memories" -- from two performances we've heard and a third we haven't:


Jan DeGaetani, mezzo-soprano; Gilbert Kalish, piano. Nonesuch, released 1976

Roberta Alexander, soprano; Tan Crone, piano. Etcetera, recorded in the Netherlands, released 1984

Susan Graham, mezzo-soprano; Pierre-Laurent Aimard, piano. EMI-Warner Classics, recorded in the Grosser Saal of the Vienna Konzerthaus, Nov. 6-8, 2003

and: (2) A taste of THE HARD WAY

Jeremy Denk plays "The Alcotts," the third -- and much the user-friendliest -- movement of Ives's Concord Sonata, apparently an encore at the 92nd Street Y, New York City, Dec. 3, 2011. (Watch it here - with applause!)

by Ken

We've got to get the Ives thing back on track. It's hard, but we'll just have to will our way through it.

As suggested above, we've already heard the complete performances of Ives's two-part song "Memories" from which the first two excerpts above are drawn, and of course we're going to hear all three performances complete, along with some others, though we'll be focusing on one in particular. Can you guess which? Maybe it'll be clearer when we hear their full "B" sections. For now, I don't think much more needs to be said about this almost excruciatingly beautiful half-minute of words set to music. Through the magic of the singer's memories, in just this bit of the song, I think we can see and hear her uncle, and understand his importance to her.

So that's our taste of the "easy" part of an Ives reckoning, and when we come back to it we're going to be sampling and resampling a number of Ives songs. Of the "hard" part, I've offered, in "The Alcotts" from Ives's massive (generally in the 45-50-minute range) Concord Sonata what seems to me the most painless sample of a problem I realize I run into a lot with Ives, as happened when I stacked Central Park in the Dark on top of a couple of other short orchestral works, Decoration Day (one of the components of the Holidays Symphony, which you'll recall the composer always thought of as potentially either free-standing or composite) and The Unanswered Question.

You remember them:

There's one major Ives work I've really loved for a long time, and we're going to hear it again, with a whopper of an introduction

[In our Ives journey we're really not quite ready for this, but at this point it's got pretty much all the elements I intended for it, and if it doesn't exactly add up to a post, exactly, I don't know whether it's worth the effort to neaten these elements into more proper form. -- Ed.]

Ah, good old KS 6155 -- still for me the basic Ives recording. (It's
been reissued in many forms, and shouldn't be hard to find on CD.)

"All the brave resolves in the world won't make good music. Nor will patriotic songs, or impudent shockers, or reverent gestures toward Bach and Beethoven. It's talent that counts in the end, and talent is what Ives had, and in such abundance that we must call it genius."

-- Leonard Bernstein, in a 1966 discussion of Ives
which we'll be hearing and reading

ARE WE READY FOR THIS? (IF NOT, NEVER FEAR:
MAESTRO BERNSTEIN IS ABOUT TO PREPARE US!)

"It is something to shout about, isn't it? Especially dating --
as it does -- from 1913." -- Maestro Bernstein
[Gotta know? This clip is also "Ex. 9" below. -- Ed.]

"LEONARD BERNSTEIN DISCUSSES CHARLES IVES" (1966)


Columbia-CBS-Sony, recorded in New York City, June 2, 1966
[no commercial use, and no copyright infringement intended]

Harken unto Chas Ives from the right angle(s) and behold a veritable musical magic-maker

[WELL, WE DIDN'T GET IT ALL DONE, BUT THIS
WILL HAVE TO BE "CLOSE ENOUGH" FOR NOW]

The Housatonic at Kent (Conn.)  [photo by the Housatonic Valley Association]

"The Housatonic at Stockbridge [1914] was inspired by a Sunday morning walk that Mrs. Ives and I took near Stockbridge [Mass.], the summer after we were married [1908]. We walked in the meadows along the river, and heard the distant singing from the church across the river. The mist had not entirely left the river bed, and the colors, the running water, the banks and elm trees were something that one would always remember. Robert Underwood Johnson, in his poem The Housatonic at Stockbridge, paints the scene beautifully."

-- Ives, Memos, on no. 3 of his Three Places in New England

Eastman-Rochester Orchestra, Howard Hanson, cond. Mercury, rec. 1957

Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, David Zinman, cond. Argo, recorded 1994
[Note: Eventually I'll say a bit about these differently terrific performances, Hanson's pulsing with life, Zinman's exploding with musical perception.]

OR, AS AN "ART SONG" -- WITHOUT ORCHESTRA, BUT
WITH ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON'S WORDS (1921)

Contented river! In thy dreamy realm
the cloudy willow and the plumy elm:
thou beautiful! From ev'ry dreamy hill
what eye but wanders with thee at thy will.

Contented river! And yet over-shy
to mask thy beauty from the eager eye;
hast thou a thought to hide from field and town?
In some deep current of the sunlit brown.

Ah! there's a restive ripple,
and the swift red leaves
September's firstlings faster drift.
Wouldst thou away, dear stream?
Come, whisper near!
I also of much resting have a fear:
Let me tomorrow thy companion be,
by fall and shallow to the adventurous sea!

-- text by R.U.J. ("by permission," the score tells us)

Jan DeGaetani (ms); Gilbert Kalish, piano. Nonesuch, released 1976

Gerald Finley (bs-b); Julius Drake, piano. Hyperion, recorded 2004
[Note: Wow! Not that they'll top these, but we're going to hear a couple more performances of the song which I think will add to our picture of it.]

Then again, not necessarily without orchestra --
Michael Tilson Thomas incorporated the text (sung chorally!) in his 1999 live-performance recording of Three Places in New England.


San Francisco Symphony Chorus and Orchestra, MTT, cond. RCA, 1999

AS WE KNOW, MEMORIES MATTER -- A LOT -- IN IVES'S MUSIC

In that spirit, here are parts of two Ives songs we've already heard, though not in these performances (which we will be hearing in full). Are there any you like especially -- or maybe not so much?

Wait, who is Timotheus, and why is he crying "Revenge! Revenge!"? (Oh yes, plus a morceau of Fauré, and some other stuff at the end)

No, the image isn't Dryden's Timotheus, per se. It's a vase depiction (proffered by Wikipedia) of 'an' aulos player, as 'our' Timotheus, a musician who had Alexander the Great's ear, happens to have been. Close enough!

"Revenge, revenge! Revenge, Timotheus cries!"


Forbes Robinson (bs); Philip Ledger, cond. (rec. London, 1966)

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b); Hans Stadlmair, cond. (rec. Munich, 1977)

Bryn Terfel (bs-b); Sir Charles Mackerras, cond. (rec. Edinburgh, 1997)

by Ken

You know how suddenly you realize a snatch of music is playing in your head, and at least at first you can't think why? At first, in fact, for a bit -- or longer than a bit if you've reached a certain age -- you may not be able to puzzle out what the heck the music is? And even then you may be mystified as to what the heck it's doing in your head? Except that it must surely be connected, somehow!, to something (or things) in your immediate reality?

For me the other day it was a snatch of the above excerpt, a snatch containing just the words "Revenge, Timotheus cries" (or, more likely, "cried" is how my head was remembering it), and I couldn't even shake any other words loose. Until I recollected that for a goodly stretch there aren't any other words.

As to what the heck the snatch was doing in my head, it seemed somehow a good bet that it had something to do with thoughts of, you know, revenge. You'd figure that the context of the snatch would provide vital clues. Having tracked down the source of the snatch, I wasn't overly optimistic, since Handel's Alexander's Feast isn't a piece I've ever thought about (or listened to) much. In fact, my acquaintance with the air generally known as "Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries" never had much to do with Handel's setting of Dryden's Alexander's Feast.

No, it was the number that popped out to me from the swell LP of Handel bass arias from which the Forbes Robinson performance comes -- a part of the substantial swelling of 1960s interest, following ground-laying pokings-at in the 1950s, in Handel's vast "beyond Messiah" catalog of dramatic works -- the oratorios as well as the operas, and a range of other large-scale vocal feasts, like Alexander's Feast, which is effectively "another" Ode for St. Cecilia's Day.

The Fischer-Dieskau recording, though from a later decade, reminds us that the 1960s produced not one but two fine stereo recordings of Handel's opera Julius Caesar, the earlier one notable for Beverly Sills's "breakthrough" role, Cleopatra, as well as Norman Treigle's Caesar; the later one featuring Fischer-Dieskau in the title role, partnered by Tatiana Troyanos. Whereas by Bryn Terfel's time, a mainstream opera singer recording a whole program of Handel arias seemed hardly a novelty.

Fischer-Dieskau's'60s recording life, by the way, was bracketed by Giulio Cesare -- not just finishing in April 1969 with the complete recording, in Munich, conducted by Karl Richter, but beginning in April 1960 with an LP's worth of "Arias and Scenes of Cleopatra and Caesar," partnered with Irmgard Seefried, in Berlin with that noted baroque stylist Karl Böhm.


OKAY, BUT WE STILL WANT TO HEAR THE CONTEXT OF
"REVENGE, REVENGE, TIMOTHEUS CRIES," DON'T WE?

Sure, we can do that. Why not?

Of those "tunes of long ago," Ives sings to us: "I know not what are the words, but they sing in my soul of the things our Fathers loved"

I think there must be a place in the soul
all made of tunes, of tunes of long ago.
I hear the organ on the Main Street corner,
Aunt Sarah humming Gospels; summer evenings,
the village cornet band playing in the square.
The town’s Red, White and Blue,
all Red, White and Blue.
Now! Hear the songs!
I know not what are the words,
but they sing in my soul of the things our Fathers loved.

-- text by the composer

Donald Gramm, bass-baritone; Donald Hassard, piano. From their Town Hall recital of Feb. 24, 1976

Jan DeGaetani, mezzo-soprano; Gilbert Kalish, piano. Nonesuch, released 1976

Gerald Finley, bass-baritone; Julius Drake, piano. Hyperion, recorded in All Saints Church (Durham Road), East Finley, London, Nov. 10-12, 2004

by Ken

The idea this week is to finish up with our Ives detour, and to that end we start out with a song, actually a very special song, "The Things Our Fathers Loved," in three really lovely performances. (I had a not-so-lovely one I was going to throw out, but who needs that kind of tsuris on a hot summer day?)


WE'VE STILL GOT ONE MORE IVES SONG NOW . . .

And still more to come when we continue, like maybe tomorrow? What's more, with tomorrow one of the compositionally celebrated Ives "New England holidays," I thought we might take another shot at getting through the four-holiday Holidays Symphony.

But first, our second song --