Antonio Vivaldi’s father, Giovanni Battista Vivaldi, … was a barber before becoming a professional violinist, and was one of the founders of the Sovvegno dei musicisti di Santa Cecilia, an association of musicians. He taught Vivaldi to play the violin and then toured Venice playing the violin with his young son.
In September 1703, Antonio Vivaldi became maestro di violino (master of violin) at an orphanage called the Pio Ospedale della Pietà (Devout Hospital of Mercy) in Venice. While Vivaldi is most famous as a composer, he was regarded as an exceptional technical violinist as well. The German architect Johann Friedrich Armand von Uffenbach referred to Vivaldi as “the famous composer and violinist” and said that “Vivaldi played a solo accompaniment excellently, and at the conclusion he added a free fantasy [an improvised cadenza] which absolutely astounded me, for it is hardly possible that anyone has ever played, or ever will play, in such a fashion.” — “Antonio Vivaldi,” Wikipedia
Thanks to my departed friend William S. (Bill) Dalzell for his spiritual awareness and the knowledge of such films which he bequeathed to me.
And, I wish to add, this film inspires me to think of all those suffering state-sanctioned cruelty here in the present, including all the souls locked up in our prisons for sins and misdeeds of which, if they repent, it is not acknowledged or allowed; and for which they know no Christian forgiveness.
The great era of Broadway musicals, in my humble opinion, was the 1940s and 50s. Today’s hits are poor successors.
This music is in my and my siblings’ blood. My father was involved in such shows and music as a conductor and orchestra member in summer stock and theatrical group productions. The music was constantly playing in our house on LPs and on the piano — by my parents, my older brother, and my father; and I attended rehearsals over which my father presided as musical director.
My older brother would sit down at the piano — I always liked the way he played, with feeling and taste — and play a piece such as “My Time of Day” from Guys and Dolls. And I would develop an appreciation for the song.
My father was amused by the character in Guys and Dolls Nicely-Nicely Johnson and by the opening “Whadaya Talk Whadaya Talk Whadaya Talk” sequence in The Music Man, which I saw performed at the Carousel Theatre in Framingham, Massachusetts with my father in the orchestra. My father found it amusing that in Camelot, which I also saw at the Carousel Theatre with my father performing, Merlin doesn’t age, he “youth-eths.” My mother loved the song “Come to Me, Bend Me” from Brigadoon.
My father said that he considered My Fair Lady to be a perfect work. He pointed out that the song “Good Night My Someone” from The Music Man was the same melody as “Seventy Six Trombones” with only the tempo changed.
I have posted a few of my all-time favorite songs here. Many of them, upon repeated hearings, produce a lump in my throat. The good taste and musicality of the songs and the performances are notable. And the performers and their voices are marvelous.
My favorite songs (musical with songs)? It’s a tough call. I would say The King and I. Carousel a close second.
Posted here are 42 harpsichord suites — performed by Joseph Payne — of the German composer Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706). It has been my feeling for some time that Pachelbel should be a lot better known than he is — and not just known for one or two famous works (e.g., his Canon in D).
Joseph Payne (1937-2008) was a harpsichordist and organist known for his pioneering recordings of early keyboard music.
of Franz Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14 in D minor (Death and the Maiden), performed by the Julliard String Quartet.
It speaks for itself — and for Schubert.
With my rudimentary knowledge of musical form, I realized that the second movement is in the form of theme and variations, something we learned about in a so-so music appreciation course I took in college.
This track contains mezzo-soprano Dame Janet Baker’s performance of the aria “When I Am Laid In My Grave” (also known as Dido’s lament) from Henry Purcell’s opera Dido and Aeneas.
It was on side 2 of a precious LP that I purchased in a Manhattan record store in the 1970s: of a groundbreaking performance conducted by Anthony Lewis (made in the 1950s) of Purcell’s opera.
I don’t think I have ever heard a more beautiful aria. Purcell’s death, at the age 36, was a tragic loss — speaking in general terms, to music.
My younger brother alerted me and our siblings to this New York Times article, and asked us to pick a favorite among the Beethoven pieces discussed. The following is the text of an email of mine in reply to my brother.
Thanks for sharing and alerting me to this Times article. I find such articles sort of silly, usually. But, here are my favorites.
Roger
Weston Sprott
The “incredible transition” into the work’s final movement (between the third and fourth movements) of Beethoven’s Fifth. Yes, incredible. It never fails to thrill me. It’s brilliant and overpowering.
Steve Reich
Slow (third) movement of the A minor String Quartet (Op. 132). Yes, so profoundly. Plumbs spiritual and emotional depths. I got to know the Late Quartets in my senior year in college. They were a revelation.
“Moonlight” Sonata, third movement. The “Moonlight’ sonata was one of the first Beethoven piano sonatas I got to know, in my senior year in high school and, mostly, during the summer of 1964, when I listened to it countless times.
The first movement of the piano sonata Opus 78. For some reason, I got to know this sonata only rather recently. This movement is one of my absolute favorites among the piano sonatas. A brilliant opening. Is enchanting the right word?
The second movement of the Seventh Symphony. I became familiar with all the Beethoven symphonies quite early, in my teens. I probably did not really get to know the Seventh until my freshman year in college (thanks in large part to the portable stereo that Mom and Dad gave me as a high school graduation present). When I first heard the seventh symphony, I found the second movement haunting, and still do. Like a lot of great Beethoven music, great passages, it is unique. He seems to be always original. Which is why he never tires (I should say, to be grammatically correct, never tires the listener).
Here’s a great performance of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 1 in G minor, conducted by Leonard Slatkin.
The title of the symphony in Russian, Зимние грёзы (Zimniye gryozy), is usually rendered in English as “Winter Dreams.” This is not accurate. The Russian word for dreams is мечты (mechty). The noun грёза (groza) means a daydream or reverie.
Tchaikovsky’s last three symphonies are listened to much more often. They are all works of great emotional power and consummate mastery. But the originality and beauty of the first symphony are notable. The four movements are as follows:
1. Dreams of a Winter Journey – Allegro tranquillo
2. Land of Desolation, Land of Mists – Adagio cantabile ma non tanto
3. Scherzo – Allegro scherzando giocoso
4. Finale – Andante lugubre – Allegro maestoso
It is perhaps not a good idea to do so, but I would single out the first two movements as favorites of mine, and especially the haunting, elegiac second movement.
The Symphony No. 1 was composed in 1866 and first performed in 1868.
The first track is from the soundtrack to the French director Robert Bresson’s film Mouchette (1967). Viewing this film, at the long gone Elgin Theater on Eighth Avenue in Chelsea, I first became aware of Monteverdi. A similar thing has happened to me with literature, for example: when I first read a few paragraphs from The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft by George Gissing, an author I had barley heard of, in a course at Columbia University.
The second track is from a recording of Monteverdi’s Vespers of 1610 by the Sixteen, an English choral group.
The third track is from a recording of a live performance by Tenet Vocal Artists of Monteverdi’s Vespers of 1610 which I attended in January 2020 at St. Jean Baptiste Church in New York City.
You can also view on YouTube at
Deposuit potentes de sede,
Et exaltavit humiles
He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.
