A Fantasy About a Fantasia: Henry Purcell and Elliott Carter

 by Maureen Buja  May 7th, 2021

Henry Purcell

In the summer of 1680, Henry Purcell (1659-1695) started to experiment with an older musical form, the fantasia. The basic structure of a fantasia is the construction of several musical phrases, or points, each of which is given a contrapuntal working out before going on to the next one. Purcell would have been familiar with these from Matthew Locke’s (c. 1621-1677) fantasia sets of a generation earlier. Purcell brought his own ideas to the form, making each point full of theatrical gestures, and adding in chromaticism and dissonance.

In Purcell’s Fantazia Upon One Note, his only fantasia for 5 parts, one instrument, the tenor viol, plays only one note, middle C. Around this still point, the other instruments play their parts, from the gentle opening to the triumphal ending. It’s only in the middle, in a minor choral section, that the tenor viol has a brief ‘solo’ appearance.  

Viols as illustrated in Michael Praetorius: Syntagma musicum: Vol. II De Organographia: Appendix: Theatrum Instrumentorum seu Sciagraphia (1620)

The tenor viol part is difficult to hear on a recording but is much easier to see in a performance.

American composer Elliott Carter (1908-2012) felt that the dramatic nature of Purcell’s work, ‘a repeated, tolling, bell-like note sounding through musical episodes of contrasting character,’ was seldom achieved in performance. The tenor viol’s middle C was lost in the musical mix. His arrangement of the Purcell fantasia was designed to bring out that lost middle C and by moving it to a brass ensemble, could change the dramatic possibilities of the work.

Elliott Carter

The work was created in 1974 as ‘A Christmas Present for the American Brass Quintet,’ as the dedication reads.

It is not known why Purcell took up the writing of fantasias in 1680, but in doing so, he left us a wonderful farewell gift to a musical style that was quickly fading. His 1680 works are considered the last music written for the viol before its modern revival starting in the mid–20th century with England’s Viola da Gamba Society, founded in 1948.

Musicians and Artists: Stravinsky and Benois

 by Maureen Buja  January 31st, 2021

Alexandre Benois: Self-Portrait (1893)

Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes hit Europe like a storm: no one had ever seen ballet taken to this level. Founded in 1909 by Diaghilev and lasting 20 years, the Ballet was based in Paris and traveled around Europe and to North and South America. Because of the Russian Revolution, the Ballets Russes never played in Russia. Its productions continue to be staged today.

Stravsinky and Nijinsky
in his Petrushka costume

Diaghilev commissioned scores from the young composers of the day, including Igor Stravinsky, Claude Debussy (Jeux, Images (1913)), Sergei Prokofiev (Chout (1921) and other), Erik Satie (Parade (1917)), and Maurice Ravel (Daphnis et Chloé (1909)) and commissioned sets from the young artists of the day, including Vasily Kandinsky, Alexandre Benois, Pablo Picasso (Parade (1917)), and Henri Matisse (Le Chant du rossignol (1920)), and had costumes from Léon Bakst (Carnaval (1910), Spectre de la rose (1922), and others) and Coco Chanel (Le Train bleu (1924), Orphée, Oedipe Roi).

Benois: Petrushka Costume for Nijinsky (1911)

Alexandre Benois (1870-1960) was a Russian artist and so much more. He was an art critic, a historian, and a designer for the Ballets Russes. His whole family were in the arts: his father an architect, his brothers were a painter and an architect and his sister married the composer Nikolai Tcherepnin. In 1901, he was scenic director of the Mariinksy Theatre in St. Petersburg and moved to Paris in 1905. He started working with Diaghilev from the very beginning, having known him in Russia in the last years of the 19th century.

In 1911, Benois designed what was considered the highlight of his work with the Ballets Russes: the sets and costumes for Stravinsky’s Petrushka.

Benois: Petrushka’s Cell (1911)

Petrushka, a puppet, falls in love with the Ballerina, who is also loved by the more powerful Moor. The puppet tradition in Russia picked up by Benois was based on his own memories of seeing the Petruska story told in puppet theatres in the street. In the street theatres, Petrushka has a red dress, a red hat, and, often, a red nose. In Benois’ designs, the red is retained for Petrushka’s cuffs, the edge of his ruff and hat, and in the design of his trousers.

Petrushka’s room depicts mountain, clouds, and a starry night – on the wall hangs a portrait of the Magician (his master who brought him to life) and a devil guards the door to prevent him leaving.

His rival, the Moor, has a much more lavish layout, calling to mind the designs by Léon Bakst for the Ballets Russes. Instead of the lonely images in Petrushka’s world, fruits and flowers and animals populate this world.

I

Benois: The Moor’s Cell (1911)

The tragic story comes to its end, with the Moor killing his rival, but Petrushka seems to reappear, thumbing his nose at his rival and perhaps returning as a ghost to haunt him.

Nijinsky as Petrushka (1911)

With Nijinsky in the role of the doomed Petrushka, the ballet was a success and became one of the most popular of the Ballets Russes productions. Even now, it is generally performed using both the original costume designs and sets, as well as Fokine’s choreography.

In writing for Sergei Diaghilev’s ballet troupe, Stravinsky was transformed from an innovative Russian composer to a cutting-edge international composer. His music for the Nijinsky-choreographed The Rite of Spring two years later was the shock performance of the year and he continued each year with works that continue to catch our ear today.

Symphonic Fish

 by Maureen Buja  March 14th, 2026

Dutch trombonist, conductor, and composer Johan de Meij (b. 1953) made his international name in 1988 with his first symphony, The Lord of the Rings. Since then, he had gone on to become a noted composer for wind orchestra.

Johan de Meij

In his 1991 work Aquarium, Meij looks into the waters for both common and exotic sea creatures.

He opens with a trio of fish, starting with many people’s first Aquarium fish: the Neon Tetra. A freshwater fish from the streams of the Amazon basin in South America, its brightly coloured stripes make it visible to other tetra, particularly as one of its habitats is the blackwater streams, which are quite acidic. The fish has a light-blue back, a silver-white abdomen and two stripes: one iridescent blue that runs over its back and an iridescent red stripe that runs along its sides. The fish is partially transparent. At night, the blue and red stripes become grey or black as it rests; the colours return in the morning. This response to lighting conditions helps it survive.

Neon Tetra, Paracheirodon innesi (Photo by Holger Krisp)

The Neon Tetra theme becomes a motive throughout all three movements.

The Electric Eel doesn’t get a theme but rather a rhythm. In some public aquariums, they hook up a speaker to the water around the electric eel so visitors can hear its pulses.

Electric Eel (Photo by David Liittschwager)

The Angelfish is represented with cluster chords as though the body decorations on the fish have become the score.

Angelfish

The second movement starts off with one of the most familiar of sea creatures, the sea horse. Its head and neck resemble those of a horse, aided by the fact that the sea horse is usually upright. It has a curled tail that helps it hold onto vegetation. The earliest sea horses were found in Italy, in the Marecchia River. A kind of pipefish, the sea horse is thought to have become its own species when tectonic events resulted in large bodies of shallow water. The shallow water and sunlight encouraged the growth of seagrass that the sea horse holds with its prehensile tail to hold itself upright.

Sea Horse (photo by Florin Dumitrescu)

The Zebrafish is another freshwater fish, this time from South Asia, found in the water of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Bhutan. The fish has five uniform blue stripes on the side of its body and is a popular fish in home aquariums.

Zebrafish (photo by Yael Noy)

At the beginning, the seahorse peeks out from its seagrass home and starts to talk with the zebrafish. As the movement progresses, the unison zebrafish theme gets more and more menacing.

The final movement is about guppies. They come from South America’s northeast corner, and are many home aquariums’ first fish.

Guppy, Poecilia reticulata (photo by Per Harald Olsen)

Unlike the other fish in Aquarium, guppies come in several different colours and styles, in the picture below, are from the top right, the ribbon mosaic RREA, mosaic chilli, double sword, orange pintail, Moscow red RREA, and cobra snakeskin (top left).

Varieties of guppies (photo by Melanochromis)

The final movement emulates most people’s experience with guppies. It starts with only two instruments (trumpet and xylophone), but then, as more guppies appear, more instruments pile in. The Guppy theme is presented in the piccolo and alto saxophone. As the movement progresses, themes from the earlier themes ‘swim’ by as well. 

Meij has managed to give us individual themes or rhythms for each animal represented and has given them to us with a kind of swinging nautical feel. In the full symphonic sound, this is a far cry from Baby Shark!

Yuja Wang

 

Khatia Buniatishvili (Born June 21, 1987) Passion, Piano, and Polarising Artistry

 by Georg Predota  June 21st, 2025

Hate her or love her, Khatia Buniatishvili is one of the most captivating and polarising figures in classical music today. Known for her virtuosic technique and deeply expressive performances, she has garnered both fervent admiration and critical scrutiny.

Khatia Buniatishvili © Julia Wesley

Embracing artistic freedom, Buniatishvili reinterprets classical works to reflect her unique vision, breaking from tradition to offer fresh, resonant perspectives. At the heart of her artistry lies a deep connection to the human experience, blending Enlightenment values with interdisciplinary explorations in film and music, while her charismatic stage presence strengthens her bond with listeners.

Her intense focus on emotional expression sometimes results in technical inaccuracies, with critics noting occasional lapses in control during complex passages. It is argued that her idiosyncratic interpretations deviate excessively from traditional practices and the composer’s intention. In addition, her glamorous stage persona and dramatic presence invite criticism for potentially overshadowing the music.

To celebrate her birthday on 21 June 1987, we have decided to focus on some of her most iconic recordings.  

Chopin Album

Khatia Buniatishvili’s rendition of Frédéric Chopin’s Ballade No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 52, featured on her 2012 Chopin album released by Sony Classical, stands as a vivid testament to her reputation as a pianist of extraordinary emotional depth and technical virtuosity. This performance encapsulates her signature style. It is intensely personal, boldly expressive, and unapologetically individualistic.

This recording stands out for its balance of lyricism and virtuosity, and as a deeply personal reinterpretation. Fans and critics acknowledge her ability to make the piece feel alive and urgent, and her interpretive freedom is both captivating and alienating. Her expressive use of rubato, for instance, stretches the architectural aspects of the piece to the point of distortion.

Buniatishvili’s Chopin Ballade No. 4 is a microcosm of her artistry. It is a blend of technical brilliance, emotional intensity, and fearless individuality that divides opinion. Love it or hate it, this recording remains a defining moment in her career.  

Liszt Album

One of her earliest major releases, Buniatishvili’s recording of the Liszt B-minor Sonata is a striking showcase of her virtuosic brilliance, emotional intensity, and bold interpretive vision. It established her as a formidable interpreter of this complex and demanding work, earning both fervent admiration and critical scrutiny.

Buniatishvili’s rendition is characterised by its daring tempi, theatrical dynamics, and deeply personal expression, which offers a vivid reinterpretation that captivates and polarises in equal measure. Her rendition was described as “a rollercoaster of passion,” but this intensity also fuelled critical debate.

Some critics have noted moments of rhythmic unevenness or slight smudging of notes, particularly in the densest passages. This suggests that her emotional exuberance can lead to technical lapses under the pressure of her ambitious pacing. In fact, Buniatishvili’s approach has been likened to “Horowitz but more mistakes.”  

Schubert Album

Khatia Buniatishvili released her Schubert album on Sony Classical in 2019. It offers a deeply personal and emotionally charged interpretation of the 4 Schubert Impromptus. To be sure, Buniatishvili brings her signature intensity and lyrical sensitivity to Schubert’s introspective works.

Buniatishvili approaches these pieces with a painterly touch, treating each as a vivid emotional vignette. Her use of rubato is generous but controlled, allowing the melody to breathe with conversational quality that reflects her human-centric artistry.

Some critics lauded this performance for its “effervescent and elegant execution,” with one review describing it as a “masterclass in balancing virtuosity and lyricism.” Detractors point out moments where her tempo fluctuations feel excessive, arguing that her expressive liberties stretch the piece’s structure beyond Schubert’s intentions.  

Mozart Album

Khatia Buniatishvili recorded two Mozart Piano Concertos on her 2024 Sony Classical release. Once again, it is a vibrant and deeply personal interpretation of Mozart’s most beloved works. Buniatishvili brings her characteristic emotional intensity and lyrical sensitivity to the Piano Concerto No. 23, and offers a fresh perspective that captivates listeners while sparking critical debate over her interpretive choices.

Her performance is shaped by her broader artistic philosophy of championing creative liberty and emotional immediacy. She approaches Mozart’s concerto as a living work, infusing it with her own experiences and personality rather than adhering strictly to classical conventions. This is evident in her bold, dynamic choices and flexible phrasing, which create a sense of spontaneity that resonates with modern audiences.

Khatia Buniatishvili is a pianist of extraordinary talent, whose passionate and individualistic approach has redefined how audiences experience classical music. Her ability to evoke profound emotion and her technical prowess make her a standout figure, though her unconventional style and occasional technical inconsistencies spark debate among some critics. Buniatishvili’s artistry is undeniably compelling, making her a fascinating figure in the classical music world.

The Magic Bow: Is This Swashbuckling Paganini Biopic Worth Your Time?

 by Emily E. Hogstad  September 22nd, 2026

Nowadays, the music of violinist Niccolò Paganini has largely fallen out of fashion, save among violin nerds.

But Paganini was one of the earliest icons of the Romantic Era, and he lived a colourful life to prove it.

Niccolò Paganini

In 1946, The Magic Bow, a film about his life and music, was released.

The source material is incredibly rich, so one has to ask: is it still essential viewing for classical music lovers today – or can they feel free to skip this one in favour of other films about other Romantic Era titans?

Today we’re looking at The Magic Bow, starring Stewart Granger and Phyllis Calvert.  

The casting of The Magic Bow was a bit of a nightmare…and it was never really envisioned as a serious Paganini biopic.

The Magic Bow is based on the 1941 book The Magic Bow: A Romance of Paganini by American writer Manuel Komroff.

Actor James Mason initially accepted the leading role, but after reading the script and realising it was less a biopic and more a treacly romance, he dropped out.

Swashbuckling British actor Stewart Granger then took the role. His fellow Briton Phyllis Calvert also joined the cast, accepting a role as Paganini’s extremely fictional love interest.

The producers claimed she was a mix of the women in Paganini’s life, but the result is a two-dimensional cardboard character.

The Magic Bow

If you enjoy Paganini as a quippy, amusingly self-centred comedic character, there’s something to like here.

The first part of the movie has a striking tone.

It begins when self-obsessed violinist Niccolò Paganini is testing violins at a violin shop.

A beautifully dressed noblewoman – Jeanne de Vermond – drops in and invites him to play in the street at midnight for a friend in jail.

Paganini arrives at the designated midnight hour and greets the prisoner. He hears the town church bell and becomes inspired to write La Campanella in the street. (As great as this story is, obviously it didn’t happen in real life.)

The Magic Bow

Paganini plays, obliviously covering up the sound of the prisoner sawing through the prison bars.

When Paganini takes a break, the prisoner – not yet done with his escape attempt – hisses at him to continue. Paganini answers the mispronunciation of his name with a scornful “The name is Paganini, jailbird!”

Later, he has several sarcastic lines, including “The admiration of fools is an insult” and “They can’t tell the difference between a cadenza and a bowl of spaghetti.”

Great composers are usually placed on a pedestal in adaptations of their lives. To see them or their self-regard turning into the butt of a joke in a screenplay is amusing.

If you enjoy Paganini as a morose Byronic hero character, there’s something to like here.

The Magic Bow

However, this satirical tone doesn’t last very long. It’s soon revealed that the prisoner that Paganini unwittingly helped escape was actually Jeanne de Vermond’s father. Predictably, Paganini and Jeanne end up falling in love.

As soon as they do, the film turns into a formulaic romance. The movie’s tone immediately changes, and from there, it becomes a slog.

The soundtrack and violin playing are among the highlights.

The biggest star of the movie was arguably Paganini’s music.

Before Granger even accepted the role, violinist Yehudi Menuhin recorded the score in London. The process took six weeks: a long time for a movie!

Menuhin’s contribution is probably the most valuable one in the film. The New York Times wrote in its review:

“The behind-the-scenes playing of Yehudi Menuhin as the violinist, drawing his magic bow over the compositions of Paganini, Tartini and Beethoven, is in itself almost worth the price of admission.”

The Magic Bow

Stewart Granger makes for a surprisingly convincing violinist.

Granger fakes violin playing impressively. He had two tutors to help out, and it shows.

He has a very accomplished bow arm for an amateur. He keeps his shoulder low and his elbow on the right plane, especially as that plane shifts during string crossings. He even imitates vibrato in a semi-convincing way (a difficult motion that takes violinists years to learn).

It’s also interesting to see how he holds the instrument in the casual, absent-minded way that many real violinists do: fingering chords while chatting, plucking strings to pass the time, treating the instrument like a third arm.

That said, it’s pretty hilarious to see him in-character travelling from city to city without a violin case, exposing his priceless violin to the elements.

In the end, this movie wasn’t attempting to be great cinema. And that’s okay.

By the end of my viewing, I understood that this movie was never meant to be some great artistic statement.

It was meant to be a fluffy opportunity to see people in beautiful costumes play beautiful music – and that’s it.

The modern desire to see an accurate portrayal of Paganini’s life, exploring his real-life struggles and triumphs, was not what the producers were trying to do.

When watching an old movie, it’s always important to keep in mind what the makers and audiences were experiencing and wanting.

The film was released in 1946, when audiences were reeling from years of war, and many people craved this mix of humour and romance.

As a result, it may not be a film I’ll ever return to, and I can’t really recommend it to a modern viewer.

But I appreciate it for what it is, and the window it gives us into how people of the 1940s interacted with the story of the most influential violin soloist in music history.

Elegant Plagiarisms: Classical Themes in Popular Songs

by Donna Arnold  May 17th, 2026

The Great American Songbook is a term describing the canon of the most important and influential popular songs from roughly the 1920s to the 1950s. During this era, popular songs were widely disseminated in the United States via phonograph records, radio, sheet music sales, and live big band performances. They were replete with beautiful melodies. People from all walks of life became familiar with the mainstream top hits of the day. Singers were constantly looking for good material, and in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, an interesting trend arose for composers and arrangers to borrow themes from classical music and create popular songs from them. Most were drawn from the romantic era.

Listeners who were familiar with classical music would probably recognise them, but listeners who were unfamiliar could enjoy the pieces without knowing of the connection. In several cases, major performing artists who embraced such material had beautiful voices and could well have become classical singers had they so chosen.

A fine example is the pop song “Tonight We Love” (1941), which was an adaptation of the piano concerto number 1 in B flat minor by Peter Tchaikovsky (1875).

Tchaikovsky – Piano Concerto No. 1 – 1st Movement

Classic FM Orchestra, Georgii Cherkin, piano soloist   

Orchestra leader Freddy Martin arranged the music and Bobby Worth wrote lyrics for it. It became a major hit for Martin in 1941.

Freddy Martin

Martin’s arrangement is taken from a very long passage of Tchaikovsky’s original work. He recorded it twice with two different soloists. The soloist on this one is tenor Tony Martin (no relation to Freddy Martin).

Tony Martin – Tonight We Love (1941)  

The pop song “Till The End of Time” (1944) was an adaptation of Frédéric Chopin‘s Polonaise in A flat major, Op. 53 — the “Polonaise héroique” (1842).

Rubinstein plays Chopin: Polonaise op. 53 (live, correct pitch, HQ)   

The pop song was written by composer Ted Mossman and lyricist Buddy Kaye. It was a major hit for Perry Como in 1945.

Perry Como

He said it was his favourite of all the songs he recorded in his long career.

Perry Como – “Till The End of Time” (1945) 

The pop song “Full Moon and Empty Arms” (1944) was an adaptation of the second theme of the third movement of Piano Concerto number 2 in C Minor, opus 18 by Sergei Rachmaninoff (1901).

Bruce Liu – Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2, Op. 18: III. Allegro scherzando

Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, Bruce Liu, piano soloist. The relevant passage begins at 1:54 in this recording.   

This pop song was also written by composer Ted Mossman and lyricist Buddy Kaye. It was a major hit for Frank Sinatra in 1945.

Frank Sinatra

FRANK SINATRA – Full Moon and Empty Arms 1945   

The pop song “Stranger in Paradise” was an adaptation of music composed by Alexander Borodin, the Gliding Dance of the Maidens from the Polovtsian Dances in the Opera Prince Igor (1890).

Symphonic Gems: Borodin’s Prince Igor – Polovtsian Dances – Noseda | Concertgebouworkest

Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. The relevant passage begins at 0:45 in this recording.  

The pop song is from the musical Kismet (1953) by Robert Wright and George Forrest.

In this performance, the soloist is Tony Bennett, for whom it was a major hit in 1953.

Tony Bennett

Tony Bennett “Stranger In Paradise” on The Ed Sullivan Show   

The pop song “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows” (1918) was an adaptation of a passage from Frédéric Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu in C sharp minor, op. posthumous (1834).

Dmitry Shishkin – Fantasy-impromptu in C sharp minor Op. 66 (third stage)

The piano soloist in this recording is Dmitry Shishkin. The relevant passage begins at 1:10.  

Harry Carroll composed the music and Joseph McCarthy wrote the lyrics for the pop song for the musical Oh Look in 1918. In this clip from Ziegfeld Girl (1941), a movie about the Ziegfeld Follies, Judy Garland sings a particularly emotional rendition of it that depicts her successful audition to become a Ziegfeld girl.

Judy Garland

I’m Always Chasing Rainbows-Judy Garland     

The era that inspired these transformations had faded by the 1960s. However, the use of classical themes in popular songs continues in full force to this day, but now it encompasses many vastly different styles that appeal to vastly different audiences. In contrast, in the years of the Great American Songbook, those early examples would have reached a much broader spectrum of the American public and had a much wider influence than any particular style of popular music does today.

For those of us who love classical music and perhaps are intrigued by those elegant plagiarisms and want to explore them further, opportunities abound. Thanks to recording and film technology, there is a treasure trove of them waiting for us to enjoy.

Donna Arnold is the long-time music reference librarian at the large music research library at the University of North Texas in Denton, Texas. She answers questions on a wide range of subjects for the university community, national, and international patrons. She holds a Ph.D. in musicology from the University of North Texas. Her many research interests include the Great American Songbook.