- NEWSLETTERS
Vol.2 -
CONTENTS
There are some composers whose music can almost be predicted by their physical appearance. On the other side of the coin, we sometimes hear a work and, from it, get a vivid impression of the appearance or the emotional state of its composer. After looking at a portrait of Beethoven, with his messy hair and angry-looking mouth, one can almost anticipate the four opening notes of his Fifth Symphony. The beautiful swan of his Swan Lake is in keeping with the images we have seen of the elegant Tchaikovsky with his meticulous bow-tie.
Unlike Beethoven or Tchaikovsky, whose portraits were subjective representations by the artists who painted them, what is unique about our experience of composers of more recent times is that we have access to photographs and filmed interviews of them. If they are truly contemporary, we can meet them in the flesh and form our own impressions.
In the case of Judith Weir, I got to know her music before I met her. Piano Trios, Music for 247 Strings, and Piano Concerto, were some of her first works that I had the opportunity to hear. They all have a transparency filled with wit and drollness, almost a mischievous shyness.
When I met Judith in person, I wasn't surprised at all. Even before she spoke, her sense of humor was evident. Her eyes sparkled, and one had the sense that nothing escaped her gaze. This is not to imply that she observes with the intensity of a hound dog, but that she somehow sees everything. Had I met her before I encountered her music, I would not have been surprised at how intelligently humorous her works are.
Something else I greatly respect about Judith is that she wants to make her music useful to the community of people beyond those who attend concerts. She actively seeks to involve them in music and music-making without taking a generic or a watered-down approach, which is something I also aim to achieve in my work. Judith believes, among other things, that playing music is one of life's most beneficial activities and she therefore attempts to encourage amateur music making by writing works for music students of all ages and abilities.
Perhaps the best way to describe Judith's music, and her person, is that they are completely seamless; she is a wonderful example of a musician, a human being, and a citizen of the world.
• Midori on Judith Weir
• 247 Words About New Music
by Judith Weir
• Excerpt from an Interview with Judith Weir
• Midori on Witold Lutosławski
• Lutosławski and his Relationship with the US
by Lech Dzierzanowski
• Interview with Robert McDonald
(Part 2)
Readers are invited to submit questions, about contemporary music in general or Midori's all-contemporary program in particular. Time and space permitting, Midori will answer some of the questions on these Newsletter web pages.
Please address your questions to violin@gotomidori.com
by Judith Weir
Music for 247 Strings began life as a crazed experiment, to write the kind of music which a vioinist and pianist could play if they were bound together hand and foot. Later in the process I imagined these two people and eight limbs performing on an instrument which had merged to contain a bow, two pedals and of course 247 strings. I didn't imagine that anyone else other than the piece's fearless dedicatees Paul Barritt and William Howard would want to play it and for a long time that's just what happened. But, just occasionally, I heard of surprising requests for the music. A violin professor in Glasgow was making all his students learn it. Some Canadian improvisers were playing it in a Berlin loft. Sometime later, email was invented, and I started to get questions about whether such-and-such on page 10 should be bowed this way or that way. Eventually the millennium turned and coincidentally, so did 247's fortunes. The Schubert Ensemble recorded it expertly on CD, and I met the Pittsburgh-based violinist, Roger Zahab, who has given numerous performances of the piece in the US and probably holds the world record for 247-String playing. Midori's involvement in this music - her tours in Japan and the US, together with seminars and an educational DVD - is an exciting new chapter in a 25-year history. This story suggests to me that new contemporary works can be successful, but not in ways we immediately recognise.
Judith(246) Weir(247)
Photo by Suzanne Jansen
Photo by Suzanne Jansen
I first heard the name Witold Lutosławski in 1984 from Pinchas Zukerman. At that time, he was Music Director of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra and had just commissioned Lutos?awski to write a work for violin, piano, and orchestra. Zukerman was looking for an orchestral work that would showcase his sonata partner, Marc Neikrug, and himself as a duo in a concerto-like setting. For a number of reasons, the piece was premiered in 1985 as a duo for violin and piano, without orchestra, although it was subsequently reworked for violin and orchestra. I continued to hear about Lutosławski, particularly in the context of his other works for the violin: Chain 2 and Subito.
What always stays in my mind after hearing these pieces are the composer's use of chromaticism and the way he manipulates regularity and expectation, including the use of aleatoric writing, all of these being defining elements of his music.
The first work by Lutosławski that I played was Subito, an excellent piece. One knew that immediately upon reading it for the first time. There is always a clarity of the message in his music, even if it is not immediately obvious. Also, there is always something unforgettable and very powerful that stays with the listener.
In Partita, Lutosławski uses some of the compositional techniques that by this time had become his signatures in a work based on the traditional form of the partita, a suite or set of variations for solo instrument popular in the 16th and 17th centuries. What is most fascinating is how his style, which is very modern, is completely in sync with the Baroque form. Of course, Lutosławski is not the only composer to merge the traditional with the modern, but how he does it and how it comes out makes his music unique. In fact, the result is what makes up Lutosławski's language.
Lutosławski's music transports the performer and the listener to a different realm; it has something that completely takes over the atmosphere of the space, be it a hall or a practice room. There is always an element of challenge and of the unexpected that is so deep that keeps performers on their toes. Partita is a masterwork of the violin-piano literature of the late 20th century.
by Lech Dzierzanowski
It might seem a bit
strange that Lutosławski was 49 years old when he first visited the
United States in 1962. But, although he was one of the leading Polish
composers of his time, we must remember that it was not easy in the 1940s
and 50s for artists living behind the "iron curtain" to travel
abroad, especially to the United States. It only began to get a bit easier
after 1956.
Lutosławski 's first trip to the United States was on the invitation
of Aaron Copland, and it proved to be a very fruitful visit. Not only
did the Polish composer teach at the Tanglewood Festival, but he also
met Edgard Varèse, heard performances by the Boston Symphony Orchestra,
and visited several electronic music studios. From this first stay, Lutosławski's
relationship with the USA began to grow: Four years later, the Fourth
Congregation of the Arts at the Hopkins Center of Dartmouth College in
Hannover, New Hampshire presented eight of his works, including the traditionally
written, but brilliant, Paganini Variations and the very modern String
Quartet. The composer conducted two of his works: Paroles Tissées
and Five Songs. Also in New Hampshire, Lutos?awski met the American
conductor Mario di Bonaventura, who was to become a close friend for whom
he later composed one of his more important and most complicated works,
Variations and Fugue for Strings.
From the 1960s Lutosławski began visiting the United States regularly.
His works began to be played by the most prestigious American orchestras
and conductors. The Concerto for Orchestra was performed by the
American Symphony Orchestra and Paul Kletzki and by the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra and Seiji Ozawa, who recorded it in 1971. Lutosławski was
also invited by a number of American universities to lead master classes
and give lectures.
But most important were American commissions. The first, from pianist
Felicia Blumenthal, was a version of the Paganini Variations for piano
and orchestra in 1979. This was followed by a commission from the National
Symphony Orchestra, whose Music Director, Mstislav Rostropovich, was a
close friend of Lutosławski, as well as one of the greatest musicians
of the twentieth century. Novellete, composed in 1980, bears a
dedication to both the NSO and Rostropovich.
The most significant works written for America were Lutosławski's
symphonies Nos. 3 and 4 and his Partita for violin and piano: the
Third Symphony is considered by many to be the summit of Lutosławski's
output. It is certainly a work of extraordinary tension and it is not
surprising that one critic found in this music a picture of the difficult
years of Polish martial law; the Partita is one of Lutosławski's
most popular works, mixing innovative technical devices like ad libitum
sections with reminiscences of baroque structures; and the Fourth Symphony,
written for the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, is the last great
work of the Polish master and one of the most moving. Although Lutosławski
denied any illustrative elements in his music, his Fourth Symphony describes
a marvellous musical landscape of pure beauty. These three late works,
written as commissions for American orchestras, are masterpieces in Lutosławski's
oeuvre.
To this list one can add some smaller pieces written for American orchestras
or artists such as Chain No.3, composed for the San Francisco Symphony
Orchestra, two fanfares and Subito for violin and piano, which
was written for a competition in Indianapolis.
On the question of artistic relationships between Lutosławski and
American composers, we must mention John Cage and Elliott Carter. The
influence of John Cage is very interesting and somehow symptomatic. It
was in 1960, before Lutosławki's first visit to the United States,
that, quite by chance, he heard a radio broadcast of the Piano Concerto
by John Cage. Lutosławski had known Cage's music earlier, but without
especially liking it. This time, however, it stimulated his imagination.
As Lutosławski later related, "Suddenly I realized that I could
introduce the element of hazard in my own way in my own music." And
from this experience emerged his own so called "aleatoric concept"
of music. Lutosławski named it controlled (or limited) aleatorism.
The first piece written in this manner was Games of Venice (Jeux
venitiens), finished in 1961. Later on, he sent the score to Cage
as a sign of gratitude. From this time on, the aleatoric technique became
one of the hallmarks of Lutosławski's compositions. He also used
it in Partita, which Midori plays in her all-contemporary program.
The second American composer we must mention, Elliott Carter, was close
to Lutosławski in his search for a new musical language. Lutosławski
dedicated Slides, written in 1988, to Carter. It is the only piece
Lutosławski ever dedicated to another composer. In response, Carter
dedicated his Gra (Play) to Lutosławski.
Witold Lutosławski continued to visit the United States regularly
until the end of his life; the last time was in October 1993, three months
before his death.
Lech Dzierzanowski
Witold Lutosławski Society, Warsaw
Photo by Hanya Chlala
Q.1. What criteria would you use to judge a contemporary work? Is it different from judging a more traditional work?
A work is either an expressive entity or it isn't. The sense of its theoretical and emotional structure has to be convincing if the performer is going to create some kind of meaningful experience for the listener.
Q.2. Is the process of learning new music different from learning more conventional works?
Initially, the time it takes to master the basic elements of playing the score may be greater, due mostly to rhythmic and sometimes technical demands. Note patterns in a new composer's language may appear or feel less familiar in one's sense of coordination. The beginning stage of learning may be more protracted, but fully shaping an interpretation is not really any different.
Q.3. On the stage, is performing contemporary music different? If so, in what way?
The fact that a new work does not have a fully formed tradition of interpretation behind it already can be liberating on stage.
Photo by Sheila Rock
