CGF Newsletter 3:
An airborne panic attack waiting to happen; a literary trek through WWII Finland; and the loss of an American musical legend
Name That Tune
This week’s Name That Tune was submitted by Co-Host Will (because Joey wants to get a chance to play the game occasionally.) Here’s your hint: “Go West, Young Man” is a bit of advice that this composer may well have received, since he heeded it.
As always, your goal is to provide as much accurate analysis as possible. First try to get the nationality, year, and genre, then make educated guesses about the composer and — if possible— the piece. If know the piece immediately, send us an email at classicalgabfest@gmail.com instead of commenting so the rest of us can have fun guessing.
Last Week’s Results
Louis Durey (1888 – 1979) "Le dromadaire" from Le bestiaire
Thanks to Listener Sam for submitting this one, because it was a learning opportunity. Apparently, Durey was one of Les Six — who woulda thunk it!? I can never remember all six of them, and that’s due in large part to the fact that I had precisely zero idea who Louis Durey was before reading his wikipedia.
I guessed Poulenc, and Listeners Jeremy and Eric both guessed Milhaud. Since Poulenc and Milhaud were also both part of Les Six, I think we all did pretty well by this one, but alas, only Honorable Mentions this week, no outright winners.
—Will
Think you can stump your fellow Listeners? Go ahead and try!
Head to our Google Form to upload a 30-second clip of an unidentified piece of classical music for us to try to identify.
A Tweet
This tweet combines two favorite Gabfest items: Guitar Center, the mainstay of rural American musical life; and the concept of being trapped in a confine space with many people playing the same instrument at the same time.
I would take an auditorium full of recorders over an airplane full of ukeleles any day, even if it came with a Hawaiian vacation attached.
Book Report
Winter Fire by William R. Trotter
This book came to me via Listener Gregor. It’s a historical fiction novel from 1993 that takes place in Finland during the early 1940s. The protagonist is a young German conductor who was just starting to make a career before the onset of the war. He’s drafted into the Nazi army, and due to his background and education, he’s given a plum position embedded with a Finnish army division collecting intelligence.
He happens to be stationed near Järvenpäa, the country estate of his musical hero, Jean Sibelius. And so we get into the crux of the book, the developing relationship between this young conductor and the aging composer.
Now, that may sound all well and good for a setup, and for about the first 150 pages, I was into this book. It was the first novel by an author named William Trotter, who up until that point had been a writer of popular history (his main accomplishment theretofore having been a work about the Soviet-Finnish Winter War of 1940.)
But then, the book takes a turn, and the author gets into all this mystical stuff about the Finnish forests and shamans and then it turns full-on Magical Realism in the back half and... I don’t know, there were just too many groaners for me to really enjoy it.
But I didn’t *not* like it, ya know? As to whether I would recommend it... well, I’m not sure. If you’re like me, and you’re drawn towards reading 1,000+ page tomes by drips like Schopenhauer or Tolstoy, this could be a nice diversion. I breezed through it in about a week. But you’d probably be better off listening to the symphonies of Sibelius and reading a better work of WWII historical fiction, if you’re into that sort of thing.
—Will
In Memoriam Jorja Fleezanis
This past week, the classical music world lost a titan, the pioneering violinist, scholar, and concertmaster, Jorja Fleezanis. We asked Listener Kevin (aka cellist Kevin Kunkel) to provide a personal reflection of his experience studying with Jorja at Indiana University in the early teens.
Jorja Fleezanis started teaching at Indiana University in the fall semester 2009, just months after the passing of her husband, the brilliant music critic and author Michael Steinberg. She quickly became an unmistakable voice in the school’s orchestral life. Her title was Professor of Violin and Orchestral Studies, meaning that she not only taught private lessons and coached chamber music, but she also attended the various orchestras’ afternoon rehearsals, even playing and leading concerts.
Often lovingly interrupting rehearsal from the back of the violin section (and peering at markings on other stands with her Goffriller in hand), it was her wont to concentrate the entire ensemble towards its musical goal. Subdivided rhythms pulsed through her veins. She focussed on the essentials — matching, rhythm, pointed attacks — in a way that put us musicians at ease, because if we could execute the fundamentals, it meant we could play the piece. (Meanwhile, her questions put some conductors on edge.) And yet, she was never boring or basic, but always poetic and inspirational.
Her years of experience and learned wisdom translated magnetically in those packed basement rehearsal rooms. Jorja had an immense talent for communicating musical intention, usually in a vibrant and poetic way (sometimes crudely blunt) which won over the student musicians, most of whom were just waiting to be done with an already long day.
Jorja’s made me unashamed to fall in love with music all over again, either alone or amongst friends. Her vast home library revealed her passion for scholarship, old recordings, performance practice, and connection with living composers. Chamber music soirées along with a meal, musical discussion, and even poetry reading with dessert were frequent events. I remember vividly gathering around her computer screen for an impromptu viewing of Böhm’s Elektra in its entirety featuring her favorite soprano Leonie Rysanek. Jorja’s gaze never left the screen for those 100 minutes.
Jorja’s teaching and friendship touched the lives of many and her always searching love for this art form inspires me daily. She passed out following quote of her late husband to many students -
—Kevin Kunkel (Listener Kevin)
Classical Mixtape
Vinci, Il farnace, Act 2: "Lascerò d'esser spietata"
It seems like every time I log onto YouTube, there’s a new Bruno da Sá video staring me in the face. Warner is promoting the male soprano like gangbusters, and all you have to do to figure out why is watch this video. The music is from some total rando old Italian composer, but it is rendered with exquisite taste and unbelievable virtuosity. Watch and be amazed.
—Will
I get serious Shostakovich energy from this week's tune but that seems too easy? That said, I can't think of many other composers whose music sounds like this and went west. Prokofiev did, briefly, and returned to Russia. This is not one of his piano concerti. There's a touch of Kabalevsky in here and I know he wrote at least three piano concertos, but he didn't go west either...
Will is lying to us, fellow listeners/readers! He guessed Françaix for last week's Name That Tune because Poulenc was ruled out by the hint. I cry foul!
For this week's....ummmmm....the very opening of it very much reminded me of Shostakovich, which got me thinking Russian....and Russians who went west? Uhhhhh......Stravinsky? I may have gone way off the rails here.