Zacharyyyyyyyy!! Now that I have your attention, I'm going to pass this comment off to my pal B.H. Haggin:
"But wonderful as [Don Giovanni, Cosi fan tutte, and The Magic Flute] are, they are surprassed by what is heard in The Marriage of Figaro: the three-hour outpouring of incandescent invention--miraculous in its varied loveliness, expressiveness, characterization, dramatic point and wit--that is one of the supreme wonders achieved on this earth by human powers. Nor do I mean only the vocal invention: Figaro surpasses the other operas in orchestral writing... with its three-hour running fir of comment that creates the atmosphere of comedy in which even the serious things happen. And in this connection I will mention Tovey's observation that in the G-minor Symphony Mozart's musical language is, as it is in fact everywhere else, that of operatic comedy--by which Tovey doesn't mean that what is said in this language is humorous: one often, he says, finds the language of comedy the only dignified expression for the deepest feelings. It is in this manner that they are often expressed by Mozart--the result being the ambiguity that is on of his outstanding characteristics...
...Three hours have been filled with the orchestra's running fire of comment, which has continued to the last to create the atmosphere for comedy for even serious happenings: even in the hush of amazement and wonder produced by the Countess's entrance the violins have softly chattered their amusement. But now at last there is an end to all this--a moment's silence; and when the Count begins his Contessa, perdono we hear music which speaks of the sublimity of human forgiveness--music which, after what has come before, is overwhelming. It becomes even more overwhelming when it is taken up by the entire group, and when it is carried to a point of superearthly exaltation. Then, in the silence which follows, solemn octaves of the strings gently ease us down to earth again--and to the bustle and fanfares of the final curtain of the operative comedy. The passage lasts only a few minutes; but those three or four minutes, coming after the three hours, create the most wonderful moment I can recall in opera."
He goes on much longer, describing the sublimity of various passages, but I'll leave it at that. I'd add my own two cents but I'm at a total loss. I'd note that I'm sure it would help a tremendous amount to actually see the opera, and follow the storyline, but even just the music without any sense of the narrative is beyond satisfying. Three hours of sheer genius.
Proust, unsurprisingly, wrote beautifully about music, and not just La sonate de Vinteuil. In the following passage he may as well be writing about Toscanini:
"At the Conservatoire concert yesterday, the pianist in the Mozart concerto was Saint-Saëns. Coming away, one met many people who had been disappointed and who, not knowing why this was so, gave different reasons for it; he had played too fast, he had played without expression, the music hadn't suited him. Well, here is the reason: it was because it had been truly beautiful. For true beauty is the only thing that cannot respond to what a romantic imagination anticipates. Everything else lives up to those preconceived ideas: dexterity is amazing, vulgarity, soothing, sensuousness, thrilling, claptrap, dazzling. But beauty which from the beginning of all things has been joined to truth in an eternal friendship has not got all these charms at its disposal.
In Saint-Saëns' playing there were no pianissimos where you feel you'll faint if they go on any longer, and which are cut off just in the nick of time by a forte, no broken chords sending instantaneous shivers down your back, none of those fortissimos which leave you bruised from head to foot, as if you had been surf-bathing, none of those pianist's writhings and tossed back locks of hair, which infect the purity of music with the sensuality of the dance, which appeal to the listener's senses, to her idle fancies, and supply her with an element of pleasure, and a reason for enthusiasm, the framework of what she will remember and the substance of what she will afterwards talk about. There was none of this in Saint-Saëns' playing. But his playing was regal. Now kings do not make their appearance wearing golden crowns and being carried in palanquins on slaves' shoulders. It is by the way they bow, smile, hold out a hand, offer a chair, ask a question, or reply, that great kings, like great actors, can be recognised. It is the parvenu who is stuck up, the charlatan who shows off. But the king's grace and nobility are so natural to him that his nobility is no more astonishing to us than the nobility of an oak-tree nor his grace than the grace of a rose-wand."
B-b-but I did not say anything about masking artistic depth, or sincerity, or any resemblance of such a statement. I said the manner, the style, the actual sounds that I hear are what I often find problematic, not the creative energy at work. The endless monumental tilt gets dull. Furthermore, I did not mention psychology (a dubious barometer for any artwork in any case, it would be asinine to dismiss The Illiad on such grounds). The dull philosophical (not, let me reiterate, sonic) writing is the only non-musical criticism I made, and it is based on the libretto (admittedly I have only seen the first three installments so the final ones may be different). Let me lastly, perhaps pedantocally, affirm that I am making no accusations, but simply personal observations. I accept Wagner was brilliant without a doubt--Tristan und Isolde is a favorite--but after spending some time with The Ring I've found it is not, as a whole, suited to my taste, although I think it hosts some very successful parts (I failed to mention the Immolation earlier and a good number of instrumental passages).
You've misunderstood me completely. When I say The Ring is uneven I am not referring to dramatic intensity or narrative events. To cite the already given example of The Ride of the Valkyries--such a section has no lack of intensity or narrative thrust but it strikes me as completely overwrought and pompous. The problem for me is The Ring is inconsistently engaging (It, personally, contradicts what Henry James wrote of as the only reasonable expectation we can have of art: that it be interesting). Regardless of the enormous artistic power at work many passages fail to cast any sort of hold on me. They can be so histrionic and dry. The manner of the music is the issue. So, to the contrary, I think less intense, less bombast, less philosophical posturing and grandiloquence may appeal to me more. But, of course, then it would no longer be The Ring.
I completely sympathize with the difficulties involved with sustaining an epic, even Milton struggled, but at the end of the day I receive great pleasure from only some of the music.
You may enjoy reading George Bernard Shaw's The Perfect Wagnerite. I found it amusing... It's clear there was a falling off in his critical facilities. Despite a distaste for Brahms his very early writing on music he was remarkably perceptive. I can't find it now, but his reading of "To be or not to be" is a particularly enjoyable attack on musicologists.
Well, there's a bit too much enthusiasm round these parts for my liking (!) so I'll have to be a dissenting voice. I have failed to really cotton on to Wagner--a position, I understand, that is not uncommon. Georgejetson accurately points out the "elevation" that occurs in Wagner's music, and I think it's this other-worldly effect that is part of my problem. Wagner's theoretical and mythological bent makes everything he does so over the top, excessively dramatic, and portentous. There's no subtlety in his world (how can there be when The Ring draws on such material!), it's all so bombastic. It's obviously not Wagner's fault that his tunes were seized upon by Elmer Fudd and Coppola, but Ride of the Valkyries strikes me as among the most distasteful things I've come across in his oeuvre. There's no heart there, just a histrionic outpouring, albeit one controlled by an accomplished composer.
There is no denying that he is an extraordinary musical power, and there are passages in the Ring that strike me as really incredible (ie. the opening of Das Rheingold, the Funeral March in Götterdämmerung, etc) but there is an unevenness to his music that can make him difficult to sit through. Tristan und Isolde is much more accomplished, I think.
Honestly, the joy for me is in listening and the idea of taking the time to do precise rankings does not much interest me. I could say with some surety that I prefer Beethoven's Op. 111 to Dvorak's Ninth, but I can't call what's preferred between Aida and Tchaikovsky's Sixth, and going through an exercise of keeping score for the sake of it leaves me a little cold. The list is more of an imprecise log of what strikes me as particularly moving and accomplished than an attempt to carefully organize and understand my feelings about each piece in relation to each other. That said I, of course, enjoy reading other lists, discovering new works, and discussing art.
(My misgivings of the list's imprecision are at least mitigated by my awfully out of date, negligent, juvenile Favorite Paintings list..!)
Verdi's Requiem definitely has a very strong shot at making the list (I can't get enough of his music) and I listened to Shostakovich's 15th for the first time in ages last week, and couldn't figure out why I had been away from his music for so long . Very, very accomplished work. As for extending, pieces that have a shot at making the list include Strauss's Don Quixote, specific Preludes / Nocturnes by Chopin, more string work (Brahms's Op. 77, quartets by Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn, Beethoven's cello sonatas)... Maybe some of Schubert's sonatas and Unfinished Symphony, Turandot, Bach's The Art of Fugue... So much to hear... Such is life!...
I think the the first movement certainly has its share of repetitions and stretches in a way, say, the symphonies of Haydn or Mozart never do. As this website says "the amount of actual thematic material is actually quite economic for him" and "the first introductory measures present four ideas that will consistently recur over the movement's vast canvas...". From my view, noting the repetitions is not in itself a critique but an observation. The sluggishness is bound with the slow moving nature of the music, most often I am charmed by it, but--as I alluded to earlier--the pace can be a little taxing on occasion.
After returning to Mahler's third, it ain't all that; except (and this is a huge except) for the last movement which is an extraordinary concentration of his musical gifts and maybe my favorite thing that I've come across from him. I completely get what you mean about the overwhelming amount of music to get to (not just the genius composers but the various interpretations too). I make a conscious effort to introduce myself to some new art everyday (whether a painting, or a poem, or a piece of music) but even then I feel there isn't enough time in the world! You definitely need to get to operas though!
Just to continue the trend of leaving YouTube links in my comments, here's what I'm currently listening to: Beethoven's 2nd cello sonata. Schnabel is one of my favorites.
As it happens Barbirolli is the only recording of the 9th that I've listened to. I see what you mean by omnipotence (Mahler: "For me 'symphony' signifies using all the means of available technique to construct a world for myself"). Perhaps "incessant darkness" was a mischaracterization, but it certainly lacks the engaging diversity and freshness of the fourth, though I think the ninth is probably better overall. I completely agree with your general descriptions of the different movements, but some of the more sluggish/repetitive stretches sometimes leave me feeling a little bored, whereas the few other works of his that I've heard don't demonstrate such a trait. I certainly don't rate the 9th as highly as you do (I think Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi, Coltrane and Puccini--to name a few--did better work, which is no slight) or I once did myself, but I do think that it's one of the best pieces of music I've heard. In any case Mahler is one composer I'd like to commit a lot more time to, as it stands I'm a little shaky on my perception of him, as it has certainly shifted over the last couple of years.
I'm glad Mjongo mentioned Bruno Walter, though, he is near the top of the pile in terms of interpreters I've neglected but am dying to listen to.
I can't even begin to assertively declare who I think is the greatest artist! There's so many incalculably great geniuses, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Rembrandt, Mozart, Michelangelo, Henry James!... what would we do without art!?
The fourth stands in marked contrast to the ninth; it expresses a completely different attitude, it's much more lively. What I like about it is that it never really settles into a singular tenor, Mahler's operation is so wonderfully diverse. Not at all like the ninth which is characterized by an incessant darkness which can be, I think--depending on one's mood--a little taxing. I'm just realizing that his fifth is still on my Favorite Music list (which, despite marginal efforts, is doing a poor job of representing my tastes; I need to build from the ground up); while I think it is a beautiful piece (the fourth movement!), I have a suspicion the third is a greater success in terms of all its units developing something more cohesive and magnificent, though I would need to spend more time with it to be certain... I've heard the eighth only once, if I recall correctly, and it struck me as something I must return to, although I sadly have yet to do so. I haven't heard the others.
Speaking of Beethoven, his String Quintet Op. 29 has been occupying a good amount of time this past week. Bellissimo!
It may not be too helpful, but I like JWN Sullivan's attempt at summarizing the late works of Beethoven:
"The chief characteristics of the fully mature Beethoven's attitude toward life are to be found in his realization of suffering and in his realization of the heroism of achievement. The character of life as suffering is an aspect that our modern civilization, mercifully for the great majority of people, does a great deal to obscure. Few men have the capacity fully to realize suffering as one of the great structural lines of living.
[...]
Beethoven does not communicate to us his perceptions or his experiences. He communicates to us the attitude based on them. We may share with him that unearthly state where the struggle ends and pain dissolves away, although we know but little of his struggle and have not experienced his pain. He lived in a universe richer than ours, in some ways better than ours and in some ways more terrible. And yet we recognize his universe and find his attitudes towards it prophetic of our own. It is indeed our own universe, but as experienced by a consciousness which is aware of aspects of which we have but dim and transitory glimpses."
Sullivan is obviously being a bit reductive, to listen to Op. 111--note by note--is to be exposed to something much more complex than a single attitude, but I think the above does a good job at accomplishing the heroic task of communicating what it is that makes Beethoven so great (although his remarks seem particularly applicable to the sonata's last, exultant movement). Beethoven's final works--the last symphony, the late sonatas and quartets, Missa Solemnis--are some of the greatest achievements of all time in my mind, it is incredible that after a productive life full of astonishing music--the concertos, the earlier symphonies, Fidelio, etc--he was still reaching new heights. I also listen to Kempff's performance.
AfterHours, what do you think of Mahler's Fourth? I'm becoming increasingly fond of it, the expressive variation--its constantly shifting tones--unceasingly entertain. Not to mention the astonishing conclusion to the Third!...
Hmm, I take your point of not discussing works like Pork Pie Hat outside of the context of their albums. So let's leave that out of the discussion, but what about works that weren't made with an album in mind, and were intended to stand as a cohesive unit on their own?
Take, for example, the Bix recording; when the cornet begins it's one of the most powerful musical phrases I can think of. It's not as long as a Beethoven sonata or Haydn string quartet, but what he is expressing is profound and beautiful--so why would it not be equal to some of their work? Chopin's Nocturnes and Preludes and, especially, Bach's Well Tempered Clavier Book I are some of the greatest achievements ever, and I'd say they rank with some of the best of Beethoven and Mozart and Coltrane and Davis, and better than many lengthy works by Shostakovich, Brahms, Wagner, etc. Artists don't necessarily need great amounts of temporal space to express their extraordinary insights, the Chopin and Bach compositions I just listed (and I take them as overarching labels for separate works, as to do different would be like treating Beethoven's symphonies as one unit) are certainly superior, in my opinion, to anything (anything!) Dylan, or Reed, or Morrison did. That's not a slight to them, in my view Chopin and Bach are astronomical talents, but simply an example to demonstrate that things like lengths are essentially non-issues, it is what is done with the length--whether 5 minutes or 50--that is important.
A masterpiece is a masterpiece. I get you're saying "virtually" but the idea that a certain length of time is required to qualify something as a masterpiece is absurd, to me. It's like saying something needs to be in 3/4 time, or feature a cello.
Having said all this: imo & de gustibus non est disputandum, et al.
Not that I expect to change your mind (!) but I have to completely disagree that masterpieces cannot be made in less than ten minutes. Analogously, there is nothing inherently better about an expansive novel than a short poem, nothing better about a massive fresco than a small painting. But, I realize you're referring specifically to music so here's just a few works that I think are flat out masterpieces and fairly short.
And of course there's plenty others, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Art Tatum, B.B. King, Etta James, Billie Holiday, Al Green, etc. I think what they do in a short amount of time can be equally valuable to what the likes of Schubert and Mahler do in their breathtaking, expansive symphonies... it's just a different vision altogether, one that I couldn't do without.
I thought I'd sidestep crowding AfterHours page with our discussion!..:
In my own admittedly circumscribed listening habits (there are tons of performers I've never heard), Toscanini has stood out for his extraordinary sense of his orchestra, and his astounding flexibility when it comes to a variety of composers. His symphonic recordings of Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn are fairly astonishing, as well as Puccini's operas (he conducted the world premieres of La Boheme and Turandot), Mendhellson's A Midsummer's Night's Dream, etc..
A critic like Haggin praises Toscanini for his commitment to and understanding of a composer's expressive intentions, for not reshaping (Haggin would say distorting) notes for his own purposes as, say, Furtwangler would. I haven't listened to enough performances to make that kind of observation for myself, but perhaps it will mean something to you. What I hear, when listening to Toscanini conduct Verdi pieces like Requiem, Te Deum, Aida, Falstaff and Otello, is an enormous insight into the drama of his music, sensitively moving from note to note, never going for a cheap emotive effect, either through bombastic stylization or otherwise. You say conducting Verdi sounds like his birthright, and I don't disagree, his gifts are congruent with the exquisiteness of the operas (much like Furtwangler's sensibility is suited for Wagner's grand, mythic vision).
To be completely honest, when it comes to Verdi's operas--with the exception of Toscanini's Falstaff and Otello (I may note that I also have a fondness for Furtwangler's poorly recording performance of this opera, which was my introduction to its greatness)--I mostly turn to Maria Callas. I am heavily biased in her favor, she was my introduction to opera--so I may not be the best judge. Tullio Serafin's Aida and The Force of Destiny, Gabriele Santini's La Traviata and Von Karajan's Il Trovatore, all with Callas, are what I listen to. In any case, I hope you enjoy Verdi's operas as much as I do, let me know what you think.
As far as Requiem goes, I have only listened to recordings by Riccardo Muti (with Cheryl Studer, Dolora Zajic and Luciano Pavorotti) and, the version which I confess to preferring, by Arturo Toscanini (with Herva Nelli, Fedora Barbieri and Giuseppe di Stefano). I will have to look out for Giulini.
I may note that Toscanini is fast becoming my favorite conductor, so perhaps there is no small part of bias in my preference for him. It is particularly moving to hear him hum alongside Mimi and Rodolfo in La Boheme... but I digress.
edit: didn't get to Requiem, but I listened to Giulini's Te Deum... damn. Toscaninian in skill. If you're already predisposed to this conductor I can't see you not loving this piece.
Zacharyyyyyyyy!! Now that I have your attention, I'm going to pass this comment off to my pal B.H. Haggin:
"But wonderful as [Don Giovanni, Cosi fan tutte, and The Magic Flute] are, they are surprassed by what is heard in The Marriage of Figaro: the three-hour outpouring of incandescent invention--miraculous in its varied loveliness, expressiveness, characterization, dramatic point and wit--that is one of the supreme wonders achieved on this earth by human powers. Nor do I mean only the vocal invention: Figaro surpasses the other operas in orchestral writing... with its three-hour running fir of comment that creates the atmosphere of comedy in which even the serious things happen. And in this connection I will mention Tovey's observation that in the G-minor Symphony Mozart's musical language is, as it is in fact everywhere else, that of operatic comedy--by which Tovey doesn't mean that what is said in this language is humorous: one often, he says, finds the language of comedy the only dignified expression for the deepest feelings. It is in this manner that they are often expressed by Mozart--the result being the ambiguity that is on of his outstanding characteristics...
...Three hours have been filled with the orchestra's running fire of comment, which has continued to the last to create the atmosphere for comedy for even serious happenings: even in the hush of amazement and wonder produced by the Countess's entrance the violins have softly chattered their amusement. But now at last there is an end to all this--a moment's silence; and when the Count begins his Contessa, perdono we hear music which speaks of the sublimity of human forgiveness--music which, after what has come before, is overwhelming. It becomes even more overwhelming when it is taken up by the entire group, and when it is carried to a point of superearthly exaltation. Then, in the silence which follows, solemn octaves of the strings gently ease us down to earth again--and to the bustle and fanfares of the final curtain of the operative comedy. The passage lasts only a few minutes; but those three or four minutes, coming after the three hours, create the most wonderful moment I can recall in opera."
He goes on much longer, describing the sublimity of various passages, but I'll leave it at that. I'd add my own two cents but I'm at a total loss. I'd note that I'm sure it would help a tremendous amount to actually see the opera, and follow the storyline, but even just the music without any sense of the narrative is beyond satisfying. Three hours of sheer genius.
Proust, unsurprisingly, wrote beautifully about music, and not just La sonate de Vinteuil. In the following passage he may as well be writing about Toscanini:
"At the Conservatoire concert yesterday, the pianist in the Mozart concerto was Saint-Saëns. Coming away, one met many people who had been disappointed and who, not knowing why this was so, gave different reasons for it; he had played too fast, he had played without expression, the music hadn't suited him. Well, here is the reason: it was because it had been truly beautiful. For true beauty is the only thing that cannot respond to what a romantic imagination anticipates. Everything else lives up to those preconceived ideas: dexterity is amazing, vulgarity, soothing, sensuousness, thrilling, claptrap, dazzling. But beauty which from the beginning of all things has been joined to truth in an eternal friendship has not got all these charms at its disposal.
In Saint-Saëns' playing there were no pianissimos where you feel you'll faint if they go on any longer, and which are cut off just in the nick of time by a forte, no broken chords sending instantaneous shivers down your back, none of those fortissimos which leave you bruised from head to foot, as if you had been surf-bathing, none of those pianist's writhings and tossed back locks of hair, which infect the purity of music with the sensuality of the dance, which appeal to the listener's senses, to her idle fancies, and supply her with an element of pleasure, and a reason for enthusiasm, the framework of what she will remember and the substance of what she will afterwards talk about. There was none of this in Saint-Saëns' playing. But his playing was regal. Now kings do not make their appearance wearing golden crowns and being carried in palanquins on slaves' shoulders. It is by the way they bow, smile, hold out a hand, offer a chair, ask a question, or reply, that great kings, like great actors, can be recognised. It is the parvenu who is stuck up, the charlatan who shows off. But the king's grace and nobility are so natural to him that his nobility is no more astonishing to us than the nobility of an oak-tree nor his grace than the grace of a rose-wand."
B-b-but I did not say anything about masking artistic depth, or sincerity, or any resemblance of such a statement. I said the manner, the style, the actual sounds that I hear are what I often find problematic, not the creative energy at work. The endless monumental tilt gets dull. Furthermore, I did not mention psychology (a dubious barometer for any artwork in any case, it would be asinine to dismiss The Illiad on such grounds). The dull philosophical (not, let me reiterate, sonic) writing is the only non-musical criticism I made, and it is based on the libretto (admittedly I have only seen the first three installments so the final ones may be different). Let me lastly, perhaps pedantocally, affirm that I am making no accusations, but simply personal observations. I accept Wagner was brilliant without a doubt--Tristan und Isolde is a favorite--but after spending some time with The Ring I've found it is not, as a whole, suited to my taste, although I think it hosts some very successful parts (I failed to mention the Immolation earlier and a good number of instrumental passages).
You've misunderstood me completely. When I say The Ring is uneven I am not referring to dramatic intensity or narrative events. To cite the already given example of The Ride of the Valkyries--such a section has no lack of intensity or narrative thrust but it strikes me as completely overwrought and pompous. The problem for me is The Ring is inconsistently engaging (It, personally, contradicts what Henry James wrote of as the only reasonable expectation we can have of art: that it be interesting). Regardless of the enormous artistic power at work many passages fail to cast any sort of hold on me. They can be so histrionic and dry. The manner of the music is the issue. So, to the contrary, I think less intense, less bombast, less philosophical posturing and grandiloquence may appeal to me more. But, of course, then it would no longer be The Ring.
I completely sympathize with the difficulties involved with sustaining an epic, even Milton struggled, but at the end of the day I receive great pleasure from only some of the music.
You may enjoy reading George Bernard Shaw's The Perfect Wagnerite. I found it amusing... It's clear there was a falling off in his critical facilities. Despite a distaste for Brahms his very early writing on music he was remarkably perceptive. I can't find it now, but his reading of "To be or not to be" is a particularly enjoyable attack on musicologists.
Well, there's a bit too much enthusiasm round these parts for my liking (!) so I'll have to be a dissenting voice. I have failed to really cotton on to Wagner--a position, I understand, that is not uncommon. Georgejetson accurately points out the "elevation" that occurs in Wagner's music, and I think it's this other-worldly effect that is part of my problem. Wagner's theoretical and mythological bent makes everything he does so over the top, excessively dramatic, and portentous. There's no subtlety in his world (how can there be when The Ring draws on such material!), it's all so bombastic. It's obviously not Wagner's fault that his tunes were seized upon by Elmer Fudd and Coppola, but Ride of the Valkyries strikes me as among the most distasteful things I've come across in his oeuvre. There's no heart there, just a histrionic outpouring, albeit one controlled by an accomplished composer.
There is no denying that he is an extraordinary musical power, and there are passages in the Ring that strike me as really incredible (ie. the opening of Das Rheingold, the Funeral March in Götterdämmerung, etc) but there is an unevenness to his music that can make him difficult to sit through. Tristan und Isolde is much more accomplished, I think.
(I listen to Furtwangler's performance)
Thanks for the kind words.
Honestly, the joy for me is in listening and the idea of taking the time to do precise rankings does not much interest me. I could say with some surety that I prefer Beethoven's Op. 111 to Dvorak's Ninth, but I can't call what's preferred between Aida and Tchaikovsky's Sixth, and going through an exercise of keeping score for the sake of it leaves me a little cold. The list is more of an imprecise log of what strikes me as particularly moving and accomplished than an attempt to carefully organize and understand my feelings about each piece in relation to each other. That said I, of course, enjoy reading other lists, discovering new works, and discussing art.
(My misgivings of the list's imprecision are at least mitigated by my awfully out of date, negligent, juvenile Favorite Paintings list..!)
Verdi's Requiem definitely has a very strong shot at making the list (I can't get enough of his music) and I listened to Shostakovich's 15th for the first time in ages last week, and couldn't figure out why I had been away from his music for so long . Very, very accomplished work. As for extending, pieces that have a shot at making the list include Strauss's Don Quixote, specific Preludes / Nocturnes by Chopin, more string work (Brahms's Op. 77, quartets by Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn, Beethoven's cello sonatas)... Maybe some of Schubert's sonatas and Unfinished Symphony, Turandot, Bach's The Art of Fugue... So much to hear... Such is life!...
I think the the first movement certainly has its share of repetitions and stretches in a way, say, the symphonies of Haydn or Mozart never do. As this website says "the amount of actual thematic material is actually quite economic for him" and "the first introductory measures present four ideas that will consistently recur over the movement's vast canvas...". From my view, noting the repetitions is not in itself a critique but an observation. The sluggishness is bound with the slow moving nature of the music, most often I am charmed by it, but--as I alluded to earlier--the pace can be a little taxing on occasion.
After returning to Mahler's third, it ain't all that; except (and this is a huge except) for the last movement which is an extraordinary concentration of his musical gifts and maybe my favorite thing that I've come across from him. I completely get what you mean about the overwhelming amount of music to get to (not just the genius composers but the various interpretations too). I make a conscious effort to introduce myself to some new art everyday (whether a painting, or a poem, or a piece of music) but even then I feel there isn't enough time in the world! You definitely need to get to operas though!
Just to continue the trend of leaving YouTube links in my comments, here's what I'm currently listening to: Beethoven's 2nd cello sonata. Schnabel is one of my favorites.
As it happens Barbirolli is the only recording of the 9th that I've listened to. I see what you mean by omnipotence (Mahler: "For me 'symphony' signifies using all the means of available technique to construct a world for myself"). Perhaps "incessant darkness" was a mischaracterization, but it certainly lacks the engaging diversity and freshness of the fourth, though I think the ninth is probably better overall. I completely agree with your general descriptions of the different movements, but some of the more sluggish/repetitive stretches sometimes leave me feeling a little bored, whereas the few other works of his that I've heard don't demonstrate such a trait. I certainly don't rate the 9th as highly as you do (I think Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi, Coltrane and Puccini--to name a few--did better work, which is no slight) or I once did myself, but I do think that it's one of the best pieces of music I've heard. In any case Mahler is one composer I'd like to commit a lot more time to, as it stands I'm a little shaky on my perception of him, as it has certainly shifted over the last couple of years.
I'm glad Mjongo mentioned Bruno Walter, though, he is near the top of the pile in terms of interpreters I've neglected but am dying to listen to.
Just for fun (:))--check out my latest obsession: Jussi Bjorling's aria from Eugene Onegin. Left me speechless.
I can't even begin to assertively declare who I think is the greatest artist! There's so many incalculably great geniuses, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Rembrandt, Mozart, Michelangelo, Henry James!... what would we do without art!?
The fourth stands in marked contrast to the ninth; it expresses a completely different attitude, it's much more lively. What I like about it is that it never really settles into a singular tenor, Mahler's operation is so wonderfully diverse. Not at all like the ninth which is characterized by an incessant darkness which can be, I think--depending on one's mood--a little taxing. I'm just realizing that his fifth is still on my Favorite Music list (which, despite marginal efforts, is doing a poor job of representing my tastes; I need to build from the ground up); while I think it is a beautiful piece (the fourth movement!), I have a suspicion the third is a greater success in terms of all its units developing something more cohesive and magnificent, though I would need to spend more time with it to be certain... I've heard the eighth only once, if I recall correctly, and it struck me as something I must return to, although I sadly have yet to do so. I haven't heard the others.
Speaking of Beethoven, his String Quintet Op. 29 has been occupying a good amount of time this past week. Bellissimo!
It may not be too helpful, but I like JWN Sullivan's attempt at summarizing the late works of Beethoven:
"The chief characteristics of the fully mature Beethoven's attitude toward life are to be found in his realization of suffering and in his realization of the heroism of achievement. The character of life as suffering is an aspect that our modern civilization, mercifully for the great majority of people, does a great deal to obscure. Few men have the capacity fully to realize suffering as one of the great structural lines of living.
[...]
Beethoven does not communicate to us his perceptions or his experiences. He communicates to us the attitude based on them. We may share with him that unearthly state where the struggle ends and pain dissolves away, although we know but little of his struggle and have not experienced his pain. He lived in a universe richer than ours, in some ways better than ours and in some ways more terrible. And yet we recognize his universe and find his attitudes towards it prophetic of our own. It is indeed our own universe, but as experienced by a consciousness which is aware of aspects of which we have but dim and transitory glimpses."
Sullivan is obviously being a bit reductive, to listen to Op. 111--note by note--is to be exposed to something much more complex than a single attitude, but I think the above does a good job at accomplishing the heroic task of communicating what it is that makes Beethoven so great (although his remarks seem particularly applicable to the sonata's last, exultant movement). Beethoven's final works--the last symphony, the late sonatas and quartets, Missa Solemnis--are some of the greatest achievements of all time in my mind, it is incredible that after a productive life full of astonishing music--the concertos, the earlier symphonies, Fidelio, etc--he was still reaching new heights. I also listen to Kempff's performance.
AfterHours, what do you think of Mahler's Fourth? I'm becoming increasingly fond of it, the expressive variation--its constantly shifting tones--unceasingly entertain. Not to mention the astonishing conclusion to the Third!...
Oh of course, wouldn't take it as anything else. I appreciate your elucidation.
Hmm, I take your point of not discussing works like Pork Pie Hat outside of the context of their albums. So let's leave that out of the discussion, but what about works that weren't made with an album in mind, and were intended to stand as a cohesive unit on their own?
Take, for example, the Bix recording; when the cornet begins it's one of the most powerful musical phrases I can think of. It's not as long as a Beethoven sonata or Haydn string quartet, but what he is expressing is profound and beautiful--so why would it not be equal to some of their work? Chopin's Nocturnes and Preludes and, especially, Bach's Well Tempered Clavier Book I are some of the greatest achievements ever, and I'd say they rank with some of the best of Beethoven and Mozart and Coltrane and Davis, and better than many lengthy works by Shostakovich, Brahms, Wagner, etc. Artists don't necessarily need great amounts of temporal space to express their extraordinary insights, the Chopin and Bach compositions I just listed (and I take them as overarching labels for separate works, as to do different would be like treating Beethoven's symphonies as one unit) are certainly superior, in my opinion, to anything (anything!) Dylan, or Reed, or Morrison did. That's not a slight to them, in my view Chopin and Bach are astronomical talents, but simply an example to demonstrate that things like lengths are essentially non-issues, it is what is done with the length--whether 5 minutes or 50--that is important.
A masterpiece is a masterpiece. I get you're saying "virtually" but the idea that a certain length of time is required to qualify something as a masterpiece is absurd, to me. It's like saying something needs to be in 3/4 time, or feature a cello.
Having said all this: imo & de gustibus non est disputandum, et al.
Not that I expect to change your mind (!) but I have to completely disagree that masterpieces cannot be made in less than ten minutes. Analogously, there is nothing inherently better about an expansive novel than a short poem, nothing better about a massive fresco than a small painting. But, I realize you're referring specifically to music so here's just a few works that I think are flat out masterpieces and fairly short.
Chopin's Nocturnes, Op. 48
Bach's Prelude and Fugue No. 1 in C major, BWV 846
Bix Beiderbeck's I'm Coming, Virginia
Charles Mingus's Goodbye Pork Pie Hat
And of course there's plenty others, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Art Tatum, B.B. King, Etta James, Billie Holiday, Al Green, etc. I think what they do in a short amount of time can be equally valuable to what the likes of Schubert and Mahler do in their breathtaking, expansive symphonies... it's just a different vision altogether, one that I couldn't do without.
I thought I'd sidestep crowding AfterHours page with our discussion!..:
In my own admittedly circumscribed listening habits (there are tons of performers I've never heard), Toscanini has stood out for his extraordinary sense of his orchestra, and his astounding flexibility when it comes to a variety of composers. His symphonic recordings of Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn are fairly astonishing, as well as Puccini's operas (he conducted the world premieres of La Boheme and Turandot), Mendhellson's A Midsummer's Night's Dream, etc..
A critic like Haggin praises Toscanini for his commitment to and understanding of a composer's expressive intentions, for not reshaping (Haggin would say distorting) notes for his own purposes as, say, Furtwangler would. I haven't listened to enough performances to make that kind of observation for myself, but perhaps it will mean something to you. What I hear, when listening to Toscanini conduct Verdi pieces like Requiem, Te Deum, Aida, Falstaff and Otello, is an enormous insight into the drama of his music, sensitively moving from note to note, never going for a cheap emotive effect, either through bombastic stylization or otherwise. You say conducting Verdi sounds like his birthright, and I don't disagree, his gifts are congruent with the exquisiteness of the operas (much like Furtwangler's sensibility is suited for Wagner's grand, mythic vision).
To be completely honest, when it comes to Verdi's operas--with the exception of Toscanini's Falstaff and Otello (I may note that I also have a fondness for Furtwangler's poorly recording performance of this opera, which was my introduction to its greatness)--I mostly turn to Maria Callas. I am heavily biased in her favor, she was my introduction to opera--so I may not be the best judge. Tullio Serafin's Aida and The Force of Destiny, Gabriele Santini's La Traviata and Von Karajan's Il Trovatore, all with Callas, are what I listen to. In any case, I hope you enjoy Verdi's operas as much as I do, let me know what you think.
As far as Requiem goes, I have only listened to recordings by Riccardo Muti (with Cheryl Studer, Dolora Zajic and Luciano Pavorotti) and, the version which I confess to preferring, by Arturo Toscanini (with Herva Nelli, Fedora Barbieri and Giuseppe di Stefano). I will have to look out for Giulini.
I may note that Toscanini is fast becoming my favorite conductor, so perhaps there is no small part of bias in my preference for him. It is particularly moving to hear him hum alongside Mimi and Rodolfo in La Boheme... but I digress.
edit: didn't get to Requiem, but I listened to Giulini's Te Deum... damn. Toscaninian in skill. If you're already predisposed to this conductor I can't see you not loving this piece.