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Showing posts with label Klaus Döring Classical Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Klaus Döring Classical Music. Show all posts

Friday, October 31, 2025

Pablo Picasso (Born on October 25, 1881) Fragmented Melodies

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Can you imagine a world where jagged geometric shapes dance to the swelling strings of a symphony orchestra? That’s the unlikely yet captivating intersection of Pablo Picasso and classical music.

Picasso, the Spanish maestro of modern art, revolutionised painting with his Cubist explosions, but his life was equally tuned to the rhythms of Stravinsky, the melodies of Satie, and the operatic arias of his era.

Pablo Picasso

Pablo Picasso

Far from a mere backdrop, music was Picasso’s muse, collaborator, and even co-conspirator in defying artistic norms. To celebrate his birthday on 25 October, let’s explore how his canvases echoed symphonic structure and what composers inspired his brushstrokes.   

Erik Satie: Parade

Cabaret Rhythms and Salon Symphonies

Picasso’s relationship with music began in his bohemian youth in late 19th-century Barcelona and Paris. Born on 25 October 1881, he grew up in a Spain where flamenco guitars twanged alongside Wagnerian operas seeping in from Europe.

As a young artist in the Montmartre cabarets, Picasso immersed himself in the sounds of his time, listening to the ragtime jazz creeping from America, but more profoundly to the classical repertoire that filled Parisian salons.

He was no passive listener as music shaped his creative process. Friends recalled him humming arias while sketching, his studio often alive with phonograph records spinning Debussy’s impressionistic waves or Mozart‘s playful minuets.   

Montmartre Rag – Mitchell’s Jazz Kings (1922)

Fractured Harmonies

Pablo Picasso: Three Musicians

Pablo Picasso: Three Musicians, 1921

In his own words, “Music is something I mistrust intensely. It goes too fast, or perhaps my mind can’t keep up,” yet he could not stay away and doodled musical instruments in notebooks and painted violinists as alter egos.

Around 1907, together with Georges Braque, Pablo Picasso stumbled upon the idea of cubism. This wasn’t just a visual disruption, but it mirrored the fractured harmonies of contemporary music.

Picasso attended the premiere of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, and the primal rhythms and dissonant clashes are captured in his canvases. Just take his “Three Musicians,” with an angular guitar and clarinet fragments pulsing like atonal motifs.   

Visual Echoes

Self portraits of Pablo Picasso

Self portraits of Pablo Picasso

Picasso painted the sound of disruption itself, turning harmony into controlled chaos. He was fascinated by the fusion of art, dance, and music into grand spectacles, and he collaborated with Erik Satie in Parade and with Igor Stravinsky in Pulcinella.

Despite his deep immersion in musical culture, designing sets for various ballets and depicting guitars, harps, and musicians, there is no evidence of Picasso playing a musical instrument.

His engagement with music was primarily auditory, visual, and collaborative rather than performative. And in his own statement, he emphasised his role as a listener and visual   y

Synesthetic Rebellion

Pablo Picasso: Mandolin and Guitar

Pablo Picasso: Mandolin and Guitar

He once described music as “another dimension” of creativity but deferred to specialists, saying in a 1935 interview, “I paint what music sounds like.” Picasso’s instrument was the canvas, as he claimed to hear colours and forms as musical equivalents. As he related to his friend Guillaume Apollinaire, “music and art are the same thing… I start a painting with a rhythm in my head, like a jazz tune.”

There is no evidence that Picasso had a liking for the structured counterpoint of Bach, the elegant gallantries of Mozart, or the heroic symphonism of Beethoven. These impressions clashed with his preference for raw emotion and fragmentation.

He did draw on ancient Greco-Roman forms visually, but musically he stuck to contemporaries over the “old masters.” He certainly did dislike traditional classical ballet and prioritised Spanish vitality over high European canon.    

Visceral Visions

Scene design for Stravinsky's Pulcinella, 1920

Scene design for Stravinsky’s Pulcinella, 1920

Both Picasso and classical music were rule-breakers in eras craving change. Their innovations of dissonance and fragmentation demanded that audiences reassemble the pieces, much like a Rubik’s Cube of sound and sight.

In Picasso’s synesthetic vision, music wasn’t mere accompaniment but a structural force. He orchestrated forms on canvas, layering auditory echoes into visual polyphony. Picasso’s dislike for conventional classical giants like Beethoven stemmed not from disdain but from irrelevance. For him, they lacked the visceral disruption he craved.

Instead, he championed music’s revolutionary edge, suggesting that true creation thrives in sensory rebellion. As Picasso once quipped, “I paint objects as I think them, not as I see them,” much like composers hearing inner symphonies. Picasso didn’t just appreciate classical music; he repainted its soul.

Ten Saddest Works Written by Grieving Composers

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Some of the most powerful works of classical music ever are connected to the deaths of loved ones: spouses, siblings, friends, and others.

From Johann Sebastian Bach’s Chaconne, composed after the sudden death of his wife, to John Corigliano’s Symphony No. 1, a searing response to the AIDS crisis, all of these works demonstrate how grief has inspired composers over generations.

Today we’re looking at just a few of these unforgettable classical compositions.

Johann Sebastian Bach: Chaconne (c. 1720)

For his wife, Maria Barbara Bach  

Given the limited amount of documentation that survives about his life, there is a lot we don’t know about Johann Sebastian Bach.

However, we do know that Bach’s monumental Chaconne – the final movement to his Partita No. 2 for solo violin – was written around the time of the death of his first wife, Maria Barbara Bach.

A silhouette of Maria Barbara Bach

A silhouette of Maria Barbara Bach

Her death occurred in the summer of 1720 while Bach was traveling to Carlsbad with his employer, Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Köthen. After two months away, he returned home to find her dead and buried.

The theory has been floated that the Chaconne was Bach’s response to her death: a heartbreaking outcry for solo violin that is technically demanding and lasts for a full quarter of an hour.

We’ll never know for sure, but it’s tempting to believe that this was his musical response to his grief.

Felix Mendelssohn: String Quartet No. 6 (1847)

For his sister, Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel   

Felix Mendelssohn and his older sister Fanny were artistic soulmates. Both were astonishing child prodigies who aided in each other’s musical development. But because of their gender, Felix was encouraged to pursue a career as a composer, while Fanny was prevented from doing so.

Felix Mendelssohn

Felix Mendelssohn

Fanny’s sudden death in 1847 from a stroke devastated Felix. In response, he composed this fierce, raw quartet in the throes of grief, clearly trying to find a way to make sense of a world without her. The music veers manically from fury to heartbroken lamentation.

This is Felix’s last major work. He died just a few months later…also from a stroke.

Fanny Mendelssohn

Fanny Mendelssohn

Johannes Brahms: A German Requiem (1865-68)

For his mother   

Johannes Brahms was famously tight-lipped about what specific events inspired his music. However, it is widely accepted that at least portions of his German Requiem were a response to the death of his mother in 1865, as well as the death of his mentor Robert Schumann in 1856.

When writing his Requiem, Brahms chose not to use the text of the traditional Latin Requiem Mass. Instead, he compiled passages from the German Bible, focusing on passages that provide comfort to the living.

Johannes Brahms

Johannes Brahms

As a result, this Requiem is less about the wrath (or beauty) of the afterlife, and more about addressing the emotional needs of the mourners left behind.

Modest Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (1874)

For his friend Viktor Hartmann   

Composer Modest Mussorgsky met artist Viktor Hartmann in 1868. Both men were passionate about the idea of creating overtly Russian art, and they became good friends.

Tragically, Hartmann died in 1873 of an aneurysm. After his death, Mussorgsky visited a massive tribute exhibition of Hartmann’s artwork. The experience inspired him to recreate Hartmann’s art in a piece of music.

Modest Mussorgsky

Modest Mussorgsky

The piano suite that resulted, Pictures at an Exhibition, took just three weeks to write.

Every movement in Mussorgsky’s piano suite portrays a different piece of art. In between, variations on a “Promenade” theme appear again and again, symbolising Mussorgsky walking from one image to the next, contemplating the work of his dead friend in a new way each time.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Piano Trio (1881-82)

For his friend and colleague Nikolai Rubinstein   

Tchaikovsky initially resisted composing a piano trio, doubting his ability to write for this particular instrumentation.

Despite those doubts, he began writing one in December 1881, nine months after the death of his friend and colleague, pianist Nikolai Rubinstein.

Nikolai Dmitrievich Kuznetsov: Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, 1893

Nikolai Dmitrievich Kuznetsov: Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, 1893

The first movement begins with one of Tchaikovsky’s most melancholy melodies.

The second movement is a set of variations, each passing by like pages of a photo album. In the end, the last variation fades into a heartbreaking version of the opening theme, now cast as a funeral march.

Tchaikovsky inscribed the score with “À la mémoire d’un grand artiste” (“To the memory of a great artist”).

It was premiered at a private performance on 23 March 1882, the first anniversary of Rubinstein’s death.

Franz Liszt: La Lugubre Gondola I (1882-85)

For his son-in-law Richard Wagner   

Franz Liszt had a complex relationship with Richard Wagner, who married his daughter Cosima in 1870. (Both Richard and Cosima had been married to other people when they began their relationship.)

Hermann Biow: Franz Liszt, 1943

Hermann Biow: Franz Liszt, 1943

Despite occasional personal friction between them, Liszt’s respect for Wagner’s music predated the marriage by many years.

In late 1882, Liszt came to visit Wagner and his daughter at their home in Venice. The first version of his piece “La lugubre gondola” (“The Gloomy Gondola”) was written that December. It’s a grim work that seems to portend catastrophe.

Catastrophe struck a couple of months later, when Richard died suddenly. His death sent shockwaves across the European music world.

Richard Wagner

Richard Wagner

After Richard’s death, Liszt returned to “La lugubre gondola” and rewrote it. This version is known as “La lugubre gondola I.”

The music is strange, dark and stark, and filled with an uneasy, uncomfortable sense of dread.

Maurice Ravel: Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-17)

For six friends who died in World War I    

Each movement of Le Tombeau de Couperin is dedicated to a different friend lost in the war, but you’d never guess it: this is light, airy, seemingly carefree music.

Ravel believed that paying tribute to the fallen with joyful music was the best way to honour them.

Maurice Ravel

Maurice Ravel

The suite was premiered by pianist Marguerite Long, the widow of the man portrayed in the work’s Toccata movement.

By writing in a style reminiscent of French Baroque composer François Couperin, Ravel promoted French cultural identity during wartime…while also creating an emotional outlet for pianists and audiences struggling during the epidemic of wartime grief.

Dmitri Shostakovich: Piano Trio No. 2 (1943-44)

For his friend Ivan Sollertinsky     

Critic, musicologist, and all-around polymath Ivan Sollertinsky was a dear friend of composer Dmitri Shostakovich. Reportedly, he spoke around thirty languages.

In February 1944, Sollertinsky died in his sleep at the age of 41. Officially, the cause was heart trouble, but dark rumours have circulated suggesting that he was murdered by the Soviet secret police.

Dmitri Shostakovich

Dmitri Shostakovich

Shostakovich wrote to his widow:

“I cannot express in words all the grief I felt when I received the news of the death of Ivan Ivanovich. Ivan Ivanovich was my closest and dearest friend. I owe all my education to him. It will be unbelievably hard for me to live without him.”

Shostakovich had begun working on his second piano trio in December 1944. He turned the second movement into a dance both exuberant and macabre (Sollertinsky’s sister thought it was a musical portrait of her late brother). That was followed by a Largo: a heartbreaking goodbye to a beloved friend.

John Corigliano: Symphony No. 1 (1988-89)

For his friends who died of AIDS    

John Corigliano’s searing first symphony is a monument to the lives lost during the AIDS crisis.

In the program notes for the premiere, he wrote:

“During the past decade, I have lost many friends and colleagues to the AIDS epidemic, and the cumulative effect of those losses has, naturally, deeply affected me. My First Symphony was generated by feelings of loss, anger, and frustration. A few years ago, I was extremely moved when I first saw ‘The Quilt,’ an ambitious interweaving of several thousand fabric panels, each memorialising a person who had died of AIDS, and, most importantly, each designed and constructed by his or her loved ones. This made me want to memorialise in music those I have lost, and reflect on those I am losing.”

John Corigliano

John Corigliano

The first movement (called “Apologue: Of Rage and Remembrance”) is dedicated to a pianist friend, the second to a music executive, and the third to a cellist.

Anna Clyne: Within Her Arms (2008-09)

For her mother   

In 2008, composer Anna Clyne’s mother died. That same year, she began a fifteen-part string work she’d call Within Her Arms.

The work received rave reviews from critics across America. The New Yorker’s Alex Ross described it as “a fragile elegy for fifteen strings; intertwining voices of lament bring to mind English Renaissance masterpieces of Thomas Tallis and John Dowland, although the music occasionally breaks down into spells of static grief, with violins issuing broken cries over shuddering double-bass drones.”

Anna Clyne

Anna Clyne

In the work’s official program notes, Clyne chose not to write any explanation herself, but rather to quote a poem by the poet Thich Nhat Hanh. That fragment includes the lines:

Earth will keep you tight within her arms dear one—
So that tomorrow you will be transformed into flowers-
This flower smiling quietly in this morning field—
This morning you will weep no more dear one—
For we have gone through too deep a night…

Thursday, October 30, 2025

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Monday, August 25, 2025

BEST PERFORMANCE OF MY LIFE | Gloria Gaynor - I Will Survive |



Thursday, July 17, 2025

Glinka: "Ruslan and Lyudmila" Overture (with Score)


Mikhail Glinka: "Ruslan and Lyudmila" Overture (with Score) Composed: 1837–42 Conductor: Mikhail Pletnev Orchestra: Russian National Orchestra Glinka, considered the father of Russian Nationalism in music, is largely known for two works: the operas A Life for the Tsar (1834 - 1836) and Ruslan and Lyudmila (1837 - 1842). Though the latter work met with a tepid reception at its premiere, while the former was an immediate success, Ruslan would eventually come to be ranked as his most influential effort, its rhythmically and harmonically inventive music rising above its mediocre libretto. Popular in the concert halls for a century and a half has been the work's perky overture, probably the composer's most widely performed orchestral piece. The Overture opens with a driving rhythmic figure that augurs the rhythmic styles of Borodin, Rimsky-Korsakov, and so many other Russian composers from succeeding generations. There follows a vigorous, joyous theme that hustles and leaps about with seemingly unbounded energy. After this melody is presented in a slightly subdued guise, a second theme is heard, a lively but mellow creation especially in its first appearance, played in the middle ranges of the cellos. Later, the opening rhythm is recalled and the themes are developed somewhat as the mood turns playful. Another go-round of themes is given before a variant of the main theme leads to the brilliant and colorful coda. A typical performance of this work lasts about five to six minutes.

Thursday, July 10, 2025

Ennio Morricone - C'era Una Volta Il West



Monday, June 30, 2025

Tchaikovsky: Capriccio Italien, Op. 45 - Radio Filharmonisch Orkest