Meerfahrt Op.96 No. 4 - Score

Perhaps that was the point — up to a point. Sometimes, however, as Heine might have advised, there are other forms of preparation than rage. Wigmore Hall, London, Thursday 26 April Send a link to this article to a friend with an optional message. Recently in Performances Dickens in Deptford: There is no rose: The Tallis Scholars Hodie Christus natus est. Rouvali and the Philharmonia in Richard Strauss It so rarely happens that the final concert you are due to review of any year ends up being one of the finest of all.

Stravinsky and Berio Were there any justice in this fallen world, serial Stravinsky — not to mention Webern — would be played on every street corner, or at least in every concert hall. The Pity of War: Ian Bostridge and Antonio Pappano at the Barbican Hall During the past four years, there have been many musical and artistic centenary commemorations of the terrible human tragedies, inhumanities and utter madness of the First World War, but there can have been few that have evoked the turbulence and trauma of war - both past and present, in the abstract and in the particular - with such terrifying emotional intensity as this recital by Ian Bostridge and Antonio Pappano at the Barbican Hall.

Stanford's The Travelling Companion: Russian romances at Wigmore Hall The songs of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov lie at the heart of the Romantic Russian art song repertoire, but in this duo recital at Wigmore Hall it was the songs of Nikolay Medtner - three of which were framed by sequences by the great Russian masters - which proved most compelling and intriguing. Es liebt sich so lieblich im Lenze! Es schauen die Blumen, Op. German Folksongs WoO 32 Op. Ich schell mein Horn ins Jammertal, Op.

Ich wandte mich, und sahe an alle from Four Serious Songs, Op. Im Garten am Seegestade, Op. Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer, Op. Kein Haus, keine Heimat, Op. Liebe kam aus fernen Landen, Op. Mein Herz ist schwer, Op. Muss es eine Trennung geben, Op. Neue Liebeslieder Waltzes, Op. Nicht mehr zu dir zu gehen, Op. O komme, holde Sommernacht, Op. O liebliche Wangen, Op. Sind es Schmerzen, sind es Freuden, Op. So stehn wir, ich und meine Weide, Op. So willst du des Armen, Op.

Steig auf, geliebter Schatten, Op. Strahlt zuweilen auch ein mildes Licht, Op. Bogen und Pfeil sind gut, Op. Treue Liebe dauert lange, Op. Vom verwundten Knaben, Op. Wehe, so willst du mich wieder, Op. Wie die Wolke nach der Sonne, Op. Wie froh und frisch, Op. Wie Melodien zieht es mir, Op. Wie rafft ich mich auf in der Nacht, Op. Wie schnell verschwindet, Op.

Wie soll ich die Freude, Op. Willst du, dass ich geh? La chanson bien douce, Op. Du bist, o Herr, mein Schirm und Schild. Nun sing' ich Dir ein neues Lied. Inflammatus et accensus from Stabat Mater. Sirotek Das Waisenkind , Balada, Op. Then they that gladly received His word from The Kingdom Jerusalem. With Pure Devotion from Christmas Eve.

• Quimera (Spanish Edition)!
• Konfliktmanagement im Unternehmen: Mediation als Instrument für Konflikt- und Kooperationsmanagement am Arbeitsplatz (German Edition).
• Gulliver Joi (Annotated).
• Nr.1 Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht.
• Mother of God.

Then shall the king say, come, ye blessed from The Holy City. Awful, Pleasing Being from Joshua. Deeds of kindness to display from Theodora. Father of Heav'n from Judas Maccabaeus. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd from Messiah. Impious mortal, cease to brave us from Deborah. In Battle, Fame Pursuing from Deborah. O Jordan, sacred tide; Ye sons of Israel, mourn from Esther. O king, your favours from Saul. Praise him, all ye from Chandos Anthem No. Return, Return O God from Samson. Righteousness and equity are the habitation of thy seat from Chandos Anthem No.

Streams of pleasure ever flowing from Theodora. The Holy One of Israel from Samson. The Lord is my light from Chandos Anthem No. The raptur'd soul from Theodora. The Smiling Hours from Hercules. Their land brought forth frogs from Israel In Egypt. Tis heav'n's all-ruling power from Jephtha. What though I trace each herb and flow'r from Solomon. I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say from. Fac me vere teum flere from Stabat Mater. O quam tristis from Stabat Mater.

He Was Oppressed from Christus. Weil noch, Sonnenstrahl Go not, happy day. Der Pilgrim der Sankt Just Op. Die Glocken zu Speier Op. Kleiner Haushalt Lyric Fantasia Op. Prinz Eugen, der edle Reiter Op. An die Entfernte, Op. And'res Maienlied Hexenlied , Op. Auf der Wanderschaft, Op. But the Lord is mindful of His own from Saint Paul.

Search This Blog

Das erste Veilchen, Op. Das Heimweh Fanny Mendelssohn , Op. Die Nonne Fanny Mendelssohn , Op. Die Sterne schau'n in stiller Nacht, Op. Italien Fanny Mendelssohn , Op. Lord God Of Abraham from Elijah. Minnelied im Mai, Op. Sehnsucht Fanny Mendelssohn , Op. Verlust Fanny Mendelssohn , Op. Wartend Romance , Op. Wenn sich zwei Herzen scheiden, Op. Woe unto them who forsake Him! Des kleinen Friedrichs Geburtstag, K. Die ihr des unermesslichen Weltalls, K. Lobegesang auf die feierliche Johannesloge, K.

Oiseaux, si tous les ans, K. Verdankt sei es dem Glanz, K.

Tonal Theory Supplemental Examples

Fac ut portem from Stabat Mater. Quae moerebat from Stabat Mater. Wake, Ye Spirits from Paradise Lost. Four Songs from Gurrelieder arr. Six Orchestral Songs, Op. Am Grabe Anselmos, Op. An Schwager Kronos, Op.

• Four Songs, Op by J. Brahms - free download on MusicaNeo;
• Brahms Johannes.
• Recently in Performances;
• Performances?
• www.newyorkethnicfood.com - Ноты классической музыки :: Ноты композитора Brahms Johannes.
• The Star Wars Heresies: Interpreting the Themes, Symbols and Philosophies of Episodes I, II and III.
• Opera Today : Brahms Liederabend.

Auf dem Wasser zu singen, Op. Dass sei hier gewesen, Op. Dass sie hier gewesen, Op. Du Bist die Ruh, Op. Du Liebst mich nicht, Op. Eine altschottische Ballade, Op. Ellens Gesang I, Op. Ellens Gesang II, Op. Flug der Zeit, der, Op. Glaube, Hoffnung und Liebe, Op.

List of compositions by Johannes Brahms by opus number

Gruppe aus dem Tartarus, Op. Hin und wieder fliegen Pfeile, Posth. Il modo di prender moglie, Op. Junge Nonne, die, Op. Lachen und Weinen, Op. Liebe hat gelogen, die, Op. The sense of connection, however complex, Rattle had brought to the first half generally eluded him here. The dawn of the recapitulation sounded duly monstrous in its combination of beauty and ugliness; alas, its disintegration proved all too distended.

The second movement proved strong of heft, yet heavy, in more than one sense, in stylisation. Fair enough, one might say, and initially I did. But do we not need something behind the parody of a parody, perhaps of a parody? At best, some of the Schoenbergian transformation of rhythms — seemingly, intriguingly, founded in rhythm and then extending itself to melody — had one listen anew. In the absence of Schoenbergian, or indeed other discernible method, though, the performance began to sound merely bloated. There is much to be said for problematizing repertoire in performance; Boulez, for instance, often did just that.

Structure and form less dissolved — an enticing, almost Debussyan prospect — than lost their way. It was above all the loss of impetus that concerned most, far more than slowness of tempo as such. Alas, I remained resolutely unmoved. The LSO responded, so it seemed, in kind. Again, later on, there seemed to be some loss of way, yet to a lesser extent. Rattle could not resist moulding the theme that emerged, yet not unreasonably so.

He certainly did not take the easy way through this movement, which is to be applauded; its extremities were acknowledged, without abandonment of a sense of harmonic motion. A passage in which string vibrato was withdrawn made its chaste point; so too did the relative rarity of giving the strings their heard. If the final goodbye were perhaps unduly prolonged — it takes a Boulez not to succumb — then such a reluctance is eminently comprehensible. Even here, though, I longed for the relative straightforwardness of a performance Rattle gave with the same orchestra round about There is much to be said for letting musical contradictions overflow into performance; Mahler should never sound too easy, let alone bureaucratic.

Posted by Mark Berry at 2: Trinity Boys Choir director: So … what are they doing together then? I rest my case! Nevertheless, I fancied I could hear certain pitches, certain turns of phrases, perhaps even certain rhythms, in both; and even if I could not, contrasts fascinated enough. There was no doubting the avant-gardism of either of the first two composers. Members of the Philharmonia under Esa-Pekka Salonen offered a splendidly cultivated, non-puritanical sound.

Would we think so, though, if we had been told it were twenty-first-century music? Virtuosic solo passages for Mars — Martian?! This performance of the Second Symphony, also of course in D major, proved very different, making me keen to hear more. Where previously I had longed for a more modernistic approach such as I suspected might have been his, here it was: Salonen even showed that it is perfectly possible to hear dialogue between first and second violins without placing them on opposite sides of each other.

The first movement was lively in a different way from Biber, yet suggestive nevertheless of some sort of kinship. Most notable of all was the real sense of return at the onset of the recapitulation, of joy in a Haydnesque, even Handelian manner. Gorgeous, never narcissistic, richness to the inner parts proved an especial joys; as often with the Philharmonia, I could not help but notice the playing of the viola section in particular.

Mystery and tension in the minor mode were palpable. The scherzo was sprightly without tending towards brutality, as too often it can say, in the worst of Karajan. Yet it still had plenty of time to display woodwind charm and colour. It had space and impetus — which brings us to the second half. The approach is not so literal-minded as to set them chronologically, but the work itself seemed both to reprise the exploratory historical path announced in the first half and to take it further, in dialogue with and yet not bound by those poems.

Tension builds and eventually subsides, perhaps not unlike the life in each of us, every one a piece of stardust — or even of a star itself. When one could not immediately discern them, it seemed that that was the point — or at least that intelligibility was not the priority. Insofar as I could tell, the singers relished their task; such, at any rate, was the performative impression.

I wondered whether the earliest sections trod water a little, but perhaps that was more a matter of my ears and mind taking time to adjust; having looked at the score since, I could not tell you why. At any rate, once the shimmering stardust really took flight — at least in my ears — it never looked back. An almost Messiaenesque ecstasy — not as pastiche, yet in spirit — was to be felt as well as heard.

An organ cadenza seemed to usher in a world of experimental Gothic Romanticism: Prometheus unbound, or Unbound? Bells, a battery Biber? Was this work, was the programme as a whole, more than the sum of its parts? I am not entirely sure, and why should I be, after a single hearing? I tend, however, to think so. I should love to hear both again, if not to find out, then to further my thoughts on the subject.

Rzewski, Mendelssohn, and Mahler, 13 April Ages , world premiere. With Dallapiccola I made a serious mistake. I missed a lesson because I had gone to visit some friends in London, and when I came back from London I found a letter saying that Maestro Dallapiccola felt that I was not the kind of student that he wanted, needed to work with, and would I please go somewhere else.

And I realised that I had made a serious mistake I must have given the impression of arrogance With those rueful, rather moving words, spoken in a interview, Frederic Rzewski described the foreshortening of his lessons from Luigi Dallapiccola. Size is not everything; in many ways, it is nothing. Ask Webern — although concision there is, of course something. It would nevertheless be vain to insist — and I shall not try — that the scale of canvas, the generosity and ambition of work and performance were irrelevant, for they were not.

In five movements, it would almost have made a concert in itself — although I am very glad that it did not, given the equally outstanding performances of Mendelssohn and Mahler following the interval. I have not seen a score , opened, both as work and commanding performance, with an opening blow, on the case and keys of the piano. Then came silence, followed by slow, diatonic chords in sequence if I remember correctly! Not for the first time late Liszt, in spirit although hardly straightforwardly in language or other musical writing, came to mind. A long diminuendo and responding crescendo led into a typically gestural, post-Webern splash, responded to in what sounded almost akin to Shostakovich-style humour.

An aspirant tango came into aural view. Such, I think, was familiar from The People United ; yet it was never quite the same, never retreading old ground. At one point, a slow, quiet phrase — perhaps foretelling the monodic lines of the Mahler Adagio in the second half — threatened to morph into the subject of the Art of Fugue. It did not; indeed, nothing one predicted ever quite happened. I think so, as indeed I would continue to think so throughout; but again, who is to say that certain intervals must refer to what we think they do? In some pieces, it is clear: Toys and whistles came and went, even old-fashioned video game I think cries and boings.

I could not help but recall a notorious caricature of Mahler. It seemed at times, especially to begin with, almost to be in the mould of a Russian mesto movement. Textures were very different, slowly transforming. Such knocks eventually provoked, from underneath the keyboard, pitch resonances, returning him and us to the keyboard proper. A cyber clockwork orange, perhaps?

Moaning cries from the pianists, one suggestive perhaps of an air-raid signal, had one audience member seek refuge outside the hall. Was that Shostakovich again, not cited but suggested? Coaxing that wonderful melody into a later, more chromatic pianistic world, Rzewski and Levit developed it in various ways, always at least a little surprising, whistled fragmentation included.

At a relatively glacial pace, the music had me think once again about the question of certain intervals, their potential references, and how they might or might not fit together: Purcell and Bach in particular. Is an interval sometimes just an interval? The wild woman eemed eventually to speak freely, but was that my fancy, my illusion?