Chamber Operas: Bruce Saylor at Queens College

A Night At the Opera

Premiers of "My Kinsman, Major Molineux" and "The Image Maker"

by Bruce Saylor

New York City is an opera town, for sure.  And if you look for opportunities to see and hear and experience opera in New York, you'll likely find an opera playing at least three times a week in the city.  Perhaps only a place like Berlin could compete with the frequency of operas--at one a day.  But we are surely fortunate to have such opportunity in NYC.  What we are also lucky to have is a place where new operas can be performed.  Admittedly, this does not happen as often as some might like, but when it does, and those operas are great works, then we are given a treat.  

This was definitely the case in a recent production of two operas by NYC composer and professor, Bruce Saylor, whose works were performed at the Goldstein Theatre at Queens College on May 4-6. The operas "My Kinsman, Major Molineux" and "The Image Maker" were both a joint presentation of the Aaron Copland School of Music, the school’s Opera Program, and the Department of Drama, Theater and Dance.  They were conducted by Maurice Peress; with stage director, Lorca Peress. Sets and lighting were designed by Harry Feiner; costumes were by Sam Fleming; projection design by Jan Hartley; and choreography by Carolyn Webb, (CUNY Queens site).

First, I must say that I was completely thrilled to get a chance to see and hear this work.  I'd met Bruce some dozen years ago in Rome, Italy, while I was there for a year studying, and he was there with his lovely family, working and composing.  I'd heard some of Bruce's music before, which I really liked, but I hadn't heard anything extensive, such as an opera.  So, after all this time, I finally had the opportunity, and it wasn't an opportunity to be missed.  I'm glad that such great works as these were performed in Queens, which for many New Yorkers would seem to be too far afield; but having the works done here lends to the power and force that great opera and music can be and is made everywhere.  Indeed, if these operas had been performed in Manhattan in Symphony Space or at the NYC Opera, for example, the press would have been bigger.  And I think that at some point these excellent operas need to be performed more regularly for larger audiences.  

This said, the operas themselves are masterfully written in every way.   "My Kinsman, Major Molineux" based on the story by Hawthorne and adapted by Barnard faculty Cary Plotkin, is now more than three decades old, but re-worked by the composer for this performance.  The first of the operas to be formed in the two-opera billing, we find its content to be reminiscent of the classical opera, where characters from the late 18th century, in the most Revolutionary War era manners, talk, and sartorial demonstration, show us the most human (and inhuman) sides of the operatic character: searching, suffering, and discovering the mysteries and miseries of life.  (A young man is in search of his "kinsman," but he cannot find him in the town that he is supposed to be in--then, he discovers that his kinsman is in fact a pariah, tarred and feathered...and sent to his fate.)  In some ways, the tale is very Kafkaesque, and both Plotkin's rendering of the libretto and Saylor's tonality are a perfect match.  The characters have a darkness, and the music not only echoes this, but penetrates their performance throughout the entire work.  The scenes, both outside and inside (such as in an old bar or ale house), were beautifully executed, and the performers all played their parts with stunning acuity, embodying the characters so that you really do think you're back in the 1780s--or, at least ready to bump into some creepy Salieri character at any moment!

The second opera, "The Image Maker," was a setting of the play by James Merrill, and had its World Premier at this performance.  Different in many ways from "My Kinsman...," "The Image Maker" is, nonetheless, and equally powerful and complex opera.  This opera is semantically "brighter" and "livelier" than the Hawthorne work, in many ways.  It is a work that is based in the Caribbean (and I must say that I'm happy to have found the opera picked up by "Caribbean Life" Online), and plays with many themes of religion, family, and relationships.  The image maker is a "carver" of statues, very particular, religious statues, and his life is drawn up into the relationships he has.  The musical construction of this opera is very evocative, with a magical and lyrical flute opening the work, pulling the audience and listeners into the very demonstrative, colorful, ornate, and complex world of the characters.  Perhaps one of the highlights of this work is the dance scene, complete with drums and a percussive accompaniment that is both raw and beautiful, but also perfectly powerful and suitable for this piece.  It reminded me of how ballet had once been banned in court operas, and how far things had changed in the last 220 years of opera making!  This is surely an opera that must be performed again.

I was very pleased with these performances--with all aspects of the works, including Maestro Peress and his musicians; and with the whole design, choreography, and direction.  The works were superb.  And I was completely drawn into the works, as holistic operations and experiences of the operatic milieu.  The accessibility of these works, especially as we continue to crawl into 21st century "musics" is refreshing, and I hope that Mr. Saylor and his musical and artistic friends are working on more operas...because they are necessary for the vibrancy of this city.

Schubert's Valentine

A Good Evening of Schubert (and Other!) Lieder

Every so often we find a delightful musical experience that radiates with everything we might expect or want from a 19th century setting.  And such a time was had this last Valentine's Day at New York's Merchant's House Museum on 29th East Fourth Street.  A few weeks before the performance, a good friend of mine, Roz Gnatt, who would be singing this evening, told me about the event.  I promptly went and bought a ticket for the evening.  I found on the MHM website, the following information about the concert:

Love in the Parlors - A 19th-century Valentine in Concert

The Bond Street Euterpean Singing Society presents its best concert yet! Lush, romantic vocal music of the world's great 19th-century composers performed in the Merchant's House Museum's Greek Revival double parlors. Singers Anthony Bellov, Rosalind Gnatt, Jane Rady and Dayle Vander Sande perform music by Rossini, Schubert, Liszt, Gounod, Mendelssohn, Strauss, Amy Beach and more. Feel the love!

 

 

 When the time came for the concert, I went downtown, and found the old home not far from NYU.  A few folks were waiting in line, including a young French woman, who worked as a photographer, and who was in town visiting relatives.  We chatted a bit, before the line queued up some more, and then we all entered.  The interior was quite delightfully arranged and decorated, and the chairs for the concert set in short rows all the way to the back of the double-parlor that had been opened to accommodate the musical space and audience.  The concert was excellent, as each of the four singers took turns, in solo, or groups, to sing from the masterworks.  

This was an excellent chance to see how small operations of musical performance work, and work well in New York.  The crowd was intimate, and the singers performed with great skill and vocal acuity, from the Schubert to the Offenbach.  Enjoying the space with other individuals so attuned to music, but also attuned to the space that music occupies, and the interactions that go on there--that is the most meaningful aspect of these evenings.  Part of the charm of the Schubertiade style of chamber music, in its most central "chamber" sense, is the interaction and participation of individuals on a more human scale--not in the behemoth castles of modern day orchestral houses.  So, for us, excellent singing and song added to the greatness of this evening.

Well done, Euterpeans! 

 

Schubert's Forgotten Librarian

Wilhelm Müller (October 7, 1794 – September 30, 1827)

There are many topics that one might take up with the life and works of Franz Schubert, but a particular area caught my attention and piqued my curiosity recently, after reading a treatment of the compositional, redaction, and reception history of Schubert's Die schöne Müllerin (Op. 25, D. 795)--often translated as "the beautiful miller's daughter." Specifically, it was the author of the poems used by Schubert in creating of his song cycle, Wilhelm Müller, with whom I became interested.

One may have a general attraction to the compositional narratives and chronologies that exist among the great composers, but it is only natural that the attraction to such stories becomes heightened by those characters inhabiting the clever spaces of history. In the case of Müller, though, upon reading of his gradual profession of librarianship, I became intrigued (as a librarian myself) to dig a little deeper into the story surrounding this poet-bibliographer of yore, and examine the story of his kraft and the magnificent influence his own works had on Schubert's composition.

In a splendid little volume on the history of Die schöne Müllerin, music scholar Susan Youens recounts the story of Johann Ludwig Wilhelm Müller in some detail, including the poet's style and context of his writing. She writes that he was born in the provincial town of Dessau on the "river Mulde north of Leipzig," and that he was "the only surviving child of a poor tailor," (3). He later studied "philology, history, and literature at Berlin University in 1812-13." He traveled around Europe, and after returned home--as Youens writes "Although Müller would have preferred a post in Dresden, Berlin, or Leipzig, he settled in his home town after his return from Rome in December 1818 and there began a career as a librarian, teacher, editor, translator, critic, and poet." His studies at Berlin, mentioned above, were sponsored by the aristocrat Duke Leopold Friedrich of Anhalt-Dessau, and some eight years later, Müller would be granted employment from this same duke. As Youens notes, the duke "later gave Müller the post of ducal librarian in 1820 and appointed him Hofrat (privy councillor) in 1824."

The origin and development of Die schöne Müllerin can be found around his early travels to Italy, around 1816-17, and continues through the time of his appointment to the position of ducal librarian ~1819-20. His work was fostered by associations he held with other writers and poets--"a circle of friends," as Youens writes, "who met at the Bauhofstrasse home of the privy councillor Friedrich August von Staegemann (1763-1840), an amateur poet interested in old German traditions." The origin of the Die schöne Müllerin narrative came out of this context, where older stories and sung texts were interpreted by the group. Specifically, the idea of the "Liederspiel, or a narrative play in verse and song (a cross between a Singspiel and a song cycle invented by Johann Friedrich Reichardt as an attempt to reform the Singspiel), was a genre performed by professional theatrical companies and by Liederkreis societies and artistic salons in the early nineteenth century," (5). As Youens continues, "For their Liederspiel, the young poets of the Staegemann circle chose the venerable tale of a miller maid wooed by various suiters, a subject with numerous models in literature and music." Perhaps another version, as scholars point out, could have been an initial source for Schubert--and as Youens notes "Giovanni Paisiello's comic opera L'amor contrastato, o sia La bella molinara of 1788...had been very popular in Germany...in various German translations, some entitled Die schöne Müllerin; it was performed in 1822, and Schubert could possibly have heard it the year before he composed his song cycle...," (6).

But jumping forward to Müller's creation, which spanned several years, and was not completed till around July 1820, we find that the poet brought his work to friends for a reading around that time. The reception was mixed, with one fellow writer, Ludwig Tieck, noting his displeasure with the ending and its excessive length. Eventually edited and published, it was in 1822 when the good librarian-poet began to reach a suitable audience, as it was in that year that "the composer Bernhard Josef Klein (1793-1832) published his settings of six poems by Müller," (10) at which point several other composers, including Schubert would follow suit.

It appears that Müller actually never knew Schubert, and both men died around the same time. But this does not and should not take away from either the character of the poetry, or the great value of the combined musical product. Together, the poetry and the music convey a mixture of the wanderlust common in Romanticism, and the tensions found in that ethos.

As Youens writes "...Die schöne Müllerin is the poetic narration of romantic/Romantic passion, a myt Müller simultaneously celebrates and questions." "The miller of course does not recognize the nature of his soul-sickness, but Muller--who knew his medieval romances well and even began writing one himself in 1815, a romance based on the life of the twelfth-century troubadour Jaufre' Rudel--makes sure that the young man's every word and action betrays it," (33). This text, in some respects like the young life of Müller, reflects this sense of wandering and tension in its poetic subtitles: "Wandering" (Das Wandern) and the duality of Fernweh (Far-sickness) and Heimweh (Home-sickness), "Where to?" (Wohin?), and "Stop!" (Halt!), among others, (34).

There is in a way, much to be said about these ideas--and the movement of both human wandering and the wandering of the text, echoed in the poetry and the music. The wandering instilled in the poems of Müller and his Miller, reflect both the sense of Romanticism and its desire for wanderlust (even some proto-flaneury) AND for us in the contemporary setting, the wandering nature of our present "Traveling Schubert Society." The richness of this material nearly two centuries later gives us pause to reflect on the nature of wandering, wanderlust, and the dualistic tension of Fernweh and Heimweh, placing us somewhere in between, almost in the middle of wanting to be somewhere else, but also comfortably at home all at once. Perhaps we can achieve something amenable, individually and collectively, through the desiring of something new, while being familiar and comfortable in our traveling salons of the future.

Like the Staegemann circle, the Liederspiel, and the creative chamber groups of poets, artists, and musicians, of the 1810s and 1820s, there is much that can be fostered and achieved, and much to look forward to...whether you're a librarian or not!

"Unsere Schubert"

"Owning Your Favorite Composer:
1/2 Price! Today Only!"

A year or two ago, I came across a biography of Schubert, which I began reading with great interest. I'm sorry to say today that I cannot actually remember the author of this work, but what I do remember is that the work was a fairly interesting assessment of the good man Franz. One thing that stuck out and that I still remember being fairly forcefully noted was the fact that Schubert went into teaching in Rossau near his father sometime around 1817, and that this has always been described as "reluctant." Clearly, he was more interested in writing music and performing works for friends, than disciplining unwieldy youth and guiding them through their lessons. Now that I've begun to dig more into the Schubertian biographical cosmos, though, the biography that I'd encountered a few years back now seems like a distant floating cloud, slightly in focus, but more truthfully a mirage. This has brought me to search more thoroughly through a new world of Schubertiana, with both surprising and entertaining results. With any sort of exploration and research into a topic or persona, one is likely to discover a whole array of histories, perceptions, depictions, and understandings about the subject. And Schubert (the man and the idea) is no exception. It would be a huge and perhaps nearly impossible undertaking to review each and every Schubert biography, article, or corollary to his life and work. Instead, I think that an attempt may be made simply to go more deeply into Schubertian studies than one might otherwise for journalistic purposes--to look at the historical biography as genre, but also pull out the questions that may be relevant to our discussions as practitioners of chamber music and discussants in developing models of that communal spirit of musical dialogue and conversation.

The focal point, today, is about how we might go about this examination, and departure point for our discussions, by appropriating our past experiences in chamber music in general and Schubert's music, specifically. Who is "our Schubert," or "your Schubert?" Admittedly, this idea only came to me a few nights ago when I ventured into the music library at Columbia University and started wandering around its stacks containing biographies of the great, not-so-great, and in some cases, just plain unknown composers and musicians. It was no surprise to find that the "Mozart Section" was plump with biographies and biographical tomes embarking on everything from the compositional techniques found in Mozart's Symphonies to the pecadillos in "Wolfy's" love life! The Schubert sections of the shelving were only slightly less ample. Yet they too had an intriguing array of topics relating to the composer, including not one, but two books with the same title: "Goethe and Schubert," which I feel that I'll be motivated at some point to examine in further depth. But for now, we shall leave them to the imagination.

After a fair amount of time determining what book would be the best to start reading through, I found this great volume titled "Our Schubert: His Enduring Legacy," by David Schroeder. Perhaps the best thing about this book (around 300 pages, including the index), is that it is broken down into two very nicely written parts: a) His Lifetime and b) His Legacy. So, it is not simply an "old fashioned" biography, but a work that explores in art, music, film, and elsewhere, the legacy of Schubert, in a very deft and engaging way. Additionally, and with similar importance, it is the personalized nature of this work, which the author Schroeder employs in his preface and introduction that makes this book even more enjoyable. It is clear that he really, simply loves Schubert's music, in a way that transcends any possible written language, and envelopes the core relationships that he has had in life. And so, from this, I took the cue to assess (or re-assess) this idea of "Compositional Ownership"--owning my own composer, as Schroeder has done...with "his Schubert." Of course, we all experience and, therefore begin to possess our composers in a way that makes sense for ourselves. But it is also a question of wondering how this "ownership" may bring us into other cross-disciplinary realms and discussions with our peers and co-discussants.

"Our Schubert"--the book and the idea--is a starting point for us, where we can begin to recognize manifold opportunities for conversation and basic musical imbibing. As Schroeder muses in Part II of his work, what did Schubert think of his own legacy while drawing his last breath? And what can we make from the curious lacuna of written letters or directives about his own work? (See 163-5). Whether we make our entry at Schubert himself, or at the early attempts at understanding and reconstructing an elusive character through Robert Schumann's Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, we will ultimately see that the manifestation of Schubert will not be just "our Schubert," but rather "our Schuberts" (plural). The truth is that, perhaps like some of the other great luminaries of music, we construct our understandings and perceptions of a composer around both memories and experiential readings, for example. The vision of Schubert, for me, in part, comes from reading poetic or literary adaptations of Schubertian motifs or works, such as Death and the Maiden--which here we can note Ariel Dorfman's play from 1991; but also seeing such images as Gustav Klimt's 1899 painting Schubert am Klavier, almost ethereally layered with Fin de siècle impressionism and sensuality. Even the cinematic representation (whether Luis Buñuel's L'Age d'Or from 1930 or Billy Wilder's Double Indemnity in 1944). The truest images of creating "our Schuberts" (or "my own") come from a mix of these learning moments, but are more vibrant in actual memories: the vision of a statue and poster I saw of Schubert as a child in school; the powerful and mysterious tones of the "Unfinished" 8th that came from my grandparents' living room, later to be echoed in the opening sequence of Peter Sellers' magnificent late life performance in "Being There." But also the images of the Schubert, who wrote the Trout Quintet, which I remember seeing (and hearing) at Tanglewood a dozen years ago with my dear late violin teacher, Dr. Ash. The Juillard Quartet, I think, ripped through that piece with the speed of chain saws and the delicacy of weaving! And even Dr. Ash's friend, Peter Stern, speaking about a Japanese business man he'd met, who after a meeting in Tokyo or some other locale, broke out into Schubert Lieder!

These are all the images and themes of "our Schuberts." And I think we will continue to imagine and re-imagine this character, as we move onward in our pursuit of understanding the man, his life, his music, and his legacy.

The Traveling Schubert Society Begins!

A Re-Newed Idea in Musical Community

Welcome to the Traveling Schubert Society! This is an inaugural piece inviting one and all to join in the exciting new endeavor that my colleague and I have begun to develop: creating an expansive community of musicians, music lovers, artists, art lovers, poets, writers, and literary folk, and many others, who are committed to the musical salon idea that evolved out of the life and work of Franz Schubert. The idea of the Schubertiade, as it has come to be known, is a remarkable achievement of building communities around the love of Schubert's music. And now, with the Traveling Schubert Society, we wish to take this a step further, by growing such communities of music and art lovers through the fostering of both classical and contemporary chamber music in the present world in which we live.

















The story of "The Traveling Schubert Society" begins a few months back, in 2011. Truthfully, though, this story could go back at least two decades, because the influences and experiences of those involved in its founding are situated in the magnificent ideals of the salon de musique, which each participated in going back to the 1980s and 1990s.

On a bus ride from New York City to the Mid-Hudson Valley, one afternoon in the Fall of 2011, two strangers sat side by side as the sun faded behind the branches of the autumnal maples, oaks, and chestnut trees scattered along route 87. Eventually, a conversation was struck, and the two men found themselves sharing tales of Armenian history, modern painting, and the politics of the classical music world. By the end of the drive, it was decided to continue the conversation at a later date.

Sevan Melikyan and I (Anthony Elia) were in touch a number of times over the course of the fall and now winter months, but only decided to reconnect in early February. When we did finally meet this past week, we began to recount the salons, musicales, and Schubertiades that we'd participated in years ago, and had been mulling over how to jump start something new that would incorporate our old experiences with the possibility of growing a community, which shared in its love of music and the arts. But we wanted the experience to be more than just a static, old-fashioned concert venue. We wanted it to be alive with discussion, something that was both informal, but also quality.

The idea of a "Traveling" Schubert Society incorporates this idea. There are various Schubert societies around the country and the world. But our aim is to take the idea of a Schubert Society, and push it into another realm, where we move our conversational forum into multiple places and spaces. We hope to experiment with sound, movement, space, and conversation, in a way that is dynamic and creative, and afford those who are interested to develop along with us.

Though we will initially be based out of our homes and work places in the Hudson Valley and New York City, we hope that this does not limit us, and welcome all those interested into this conversation of music and arts.

We are now in the preliminary planning stages of organizing our first concerts, which we'd like to set for this summer (2012). And as we get closer, we will detail these events. One of the main things that we'd like to share from the beginning is our desire to provide these salons, musicales, Schubertiades free of charge to the burgeoning community of the Traveling Schubert Society. Of course, donations will be accepted to offset any costs we incur. But our hope is that this group will allow as many people as possible to experience something powerful through music, especially those who may feel that they don't get enough interaction with chamber music, the music of Schubert, or contemporary classical music.

This last item is of particular interest, as well. As a composer, I come to the musical scene with the goal of developing a network of new musicians, composers, artists, and writers (maybe librettists?), who are like-minded in their interest of developing such a community. And at these salons and musicales, along with our Schubertian and classical offerings, we hope to bring fresh, new compositions from contemporary composers.

We're just beginning, but we are very excited and look forward to great possibilities! Every week I am planning on contributing articles on Schubert, his legacy, and the goals that we will continue to set down for the society. And I invite you all to participate in this conversation as we move forward!

A hearty and musical welcome to all!

Anthony J. Elia & Sevan Melikyan