At the end of an overlong day laden with teaching and other duties, Edward Elgar lit a cigar, sat at his piano and began idling over the keys. To amuse his wife, the composer began to improvise a tune and played it several times, turning each reprise into a caricature of the way one of their friends might have played it or of their personal characteristics. "I believe that you are doing something which has never been done before," exclaimed Mrs. Elgar. Thus was born one of music's great works of original conception, and Elgar's greatest large-scale "hit": the Enigma Variations. The enigma is twofold: each of the 14 variations refers to a friend of Elgar's, who is depicted by the nature of the music, or by sonic imitation of laughs, vocal inflections, or quirks, or by more abstract allusions.
Francesco Cavalli's ''L'Ormindo'' is not the oldest opera in existence - in fact, Monteverdi was already dead when it was first produced in Venice in 1644. Still, this 338-year-old work stands far enough from us in the operatic distance to make any production of it an automatically controversial event. As with all works of opera's early decades, ''L'Ormindo'' is in many respects a blank page, on which modern producers are free to write, or perhaps scribble. Cavalli's score, for instance, gives few hints as to orchestration: history tells us that opera orchestras in the early 17th century were pretty much made up of whatever instruments happened to be at hand.
Lilting melodies and exhilarating dance rhythms; gentle pathos, brooding drama and robust high spirits; the spirit of rural Bohemia and the sophistication of Prague, Vienna, New York and London in the late 19th century: Antonin Dvořák’s music is unfailingly distinctive and captivating. In all his works – from the epic ‘New World’ Symphony and Cello Concerto to the irresistible Slavonic Dances, haunting ‘American’ String Quartet, quirky violin Humoresque and yearning Song to the Moon – he is a composer whose heart is open and generous, and whose love for his homeland always shines through. This box provides an illuminating and enriching survey of his works, including his complete symphonies. A number of the celebrated performers have Slavonic roots themselves; all their interpretations draw on a deep affinity with Dvořák’s inspiration and humanity.
The two features that make a good film soundtrack composer are a personal style and the flexibility to adapt. Therefore, it seems unfair to compare Edward Artemiev's score for the Hollywood-financed television production The Odyssey and his classic music for Andrei Tarkovsky's science-fiction films of the 1970s. All Artemiev did was adapt to the needs of the production, starting with the setting. The action of Andrei Konchalovski's film (following Homer's The Odyssey) takes place in Greece, so the composer borrowed bouzouki melodies and included a couple of Greek folk-style singing episodes. Each piece has been tailored to suit the action of a specific scene, including orchestral cues, percussive outbursts, and horn section buildups. The London Philarmonic Orchestra go through the motions and in the end one gets the impression that the music stands closer to that of John Williams than Artemiev's more personal works.
The two features that make a good film soundtrack composer are a personal style and the flexibility to adapt. Therefore, it seems unfair to compare Edward Artemiev's score for the Hollywood-financed television production The Odyssey and his classic music for Andrei Tarkovsky's science-fiction films of the 1970s. All Artemiev did was adapt to the needs of the production, starting with the setting. The action of Andrei Konchalovski's film (following Homer's The Odyssey) takes place in Greece, so the composer borrowed bouzouki melodies and included a couple of Greek folk-style singing episodes. Each piece has been tailored to suit the action of a specific scene, including orchestral cues, percussive outbursts, and horn section buildups. The London Philarmonic Orchestra go through the motions and in the end one gets the impression that the music stands closer to that of John Williams than Artemiev's more personal works.
The two features that make a good film soundtrack composer are a personal style and the flexibility to adapt. Therefore, it seems unfair to compare Edward Artemiev's score for the Hollywood-financed television production The Odyssey and his classic music for Andrei Tarkovsky's science-fiction films of the 1970s. All Artemiev did was adapt to the needs of the production, starting with the setting. The action of Andrei Konchalovski's film (following Homer's The Odyssey) takes place in Greece, so the composer borrowed bouzouki melodies and included a couple of Greek folk-style singing episodes. Each piece has been tailored to suit the action of a specific scene, including orchestral cues, percussive outbursts, and horn section buildups. The London Philarmonic Orchestra go through the motions and in the end one gets the impression that the music stands closer to that of John Williams than Artemiev's more personal works.
Ernest Ansermet was in the peak of his directorial power in this decade. The real effort to guide and elevate the Suisse Romande to the most famous swiss orchestra ever was made for this admirable and not yet recognized conductor. Ansermet had a special rapport for the Russian composers. In this recording we have the presence of the virtuosi violinist Ruggiero Ricci characterized with a cold temperament but gifted with a steel sound extremely adequate for this works, giving his best musical achievement of his brilliant career with both Prokoviev violin concertos.
Like so many Russian musicians, Mravinsky seemed first headed toward a career in the sciences. He studied biology at St. Petersburg University, but had to quit in 1920 after his father's death. To support himself, he signed on with the Imperial Ballet as a rehearsal pianist. In 1923, he finally enrolled in the Leningrad Conservatory, where he studied composition with Vladimir Shcherbachov and conducting with Alexander Gauk and Nikolai Malko. He graduated in 1931, and left his Imperial Ballet job to become a musical assistant and ballet conductor at the Bolshoi Opera from 1931 to 1937, with a stint at the Kirov from 1934. Mravinsky gave up these posts in 1938, after winning first prize in the All-Union Conductors' Competition in Moscow, to become principal conductor of the Leningrad Philharmonic. He remained there until his death, long ignoring many guest-conducting offers from abroad.