It's all about the classical music composers and their works from the last 400 years and much more about music. Hier erfahren Sie alles über die klassischen Komponisten und ihre Meisterwerke der letzten vierhundert Jahre und vieles mehr über Klassische Musik.
... instead of the Russian National Anthem. Here’s why.
By Kyle Macdonald, ClassicFM London
The nation of Russia is officially banned from the Olympics. So, Russian athletes are hearing Tchaikovsky’s piano concerto when they win.
Have you been catching a great Russian symphonic epic at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics? It would appear that Tchaikovsky is the latest musical star of the world’s biggest sporting event.
In 2019, Russia was banned by the World Anti-Doping Agency from all international sporting competitions, including the Olympics. The ban lasts four years and will remain in place throughout the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing.
After the ban, and so as not to punish individuals, the International Olympic Committee is allowing the Russian athletes to take part in Tokyo in a different way. Together they compete under the banner of the ‘Russian Olympic Committee’.
Though athletes still wear the Russian colours of white, blue and red, they are prohibited from other displays of national representation. And this includes Russia’s national anthem, ‘Rossiya – svyashchennaya nasha derzhava’.
So, with the thunderous Russian national anthem not an option for medal ceremonies, organizers have called in assistance from the greatest Russian composer of all, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
When those athletes win gold at Toyko, like the women’s 10m air pistol’s Vitalina Batsarashkina and the ROC women’s team gymnastics, the epic opening to Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 proudly scores the podium ceremony.
And it’s fair to say that gold-standard Tchaikovsky is going down well with the punters at home...
- as chosen by the nation’s leading youth orchestra (I)
By Maddy Shaw Roberts, ClassicFM London
These are unequivocally music’s most hopeful melodies, according to Classic FM’s Orchestra of Teenagers...
Throughout the uncertainty of the pandemic, the brilliant teenage musicians of the National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain (NYO) have embraced music as an essential tool for escape, motivation and hope for the days ahead.
And so, this summer, the world-leading orchestra will finally return to great UK stages with their ‘Hope Exchange’ project, a series of hope-filled concerts at Saffron Hall (28 July), Southbank Centre (31 July), Birmingham Symphony Hall (6 August) and Leeds Town Hall (8 August), featuring star soloists from saxophonist Jess Gillam to violinists Nicola Benedetti and Francesca Dego. All concerts are free for those under the age of 19.
To find out which pieces of music feel like ‘hope’ to some of our country’s most exciting young musicians, we spoke to a handful of the NYO’s members, who told us of the composers and melodies that helped them a period of social isolation, silenced culture and uncertainty for their future.
Prelude from Cello Suite No.2 – J.S. Bach
“A Prelude, as an opening movement, is a moment of hope in itself as the composer begins their journey of sharing their work and message with us. The reflective phrasing mirrors the human experience of hope, illustrating how it often grows out of darker periods and rarely exists without setbacks. The piece finishes with triumphant fanfare-like chords which I interpret as Bach’s portrayal of musical optimism.”
– Max Rayworth, viola
Amazing Grace – spiritual
“‘Amazing Grace’ is one of the first pieces I learnt on the bass, and listening to its stirring melody and poignant lyrics makes me reflect on the importance of belief, and to have faith in a more hopeful world.”
– Jelly Rowe, double bass
Cellist Yo-Yo Ma plays ‘Amazing Grace’ at the Celebrating America concert
Bella Ciao – Trad.
"Growing up with an Italian background I have often heard versions of a very famous Italian protest folk song by the name of ‘Bella Ciao’, first written in the late 1800s. The song was later adopted as an anthem of the anti-fascist resistance against Mussolini and Hitler. Today versions of ‘Bella Ciao’ are sung in many other countries as a modern-day anthem of freedom and hope. It is this theme of hope against hardship and despair that led many Italians to play the song in unison from their balconies at the beginning of the first lockdown in March last year.
– Gabriella Bavetta, violin
‘Nigun’ from the Baal Shem Suite – Ernest Bloch
“I learnt and played ‘Nigun’ from Ernest Bloch’s Baal Shem Suite during lockdown and it was the piece I turned to, to let my emotions run freely. There were so many emotions bottled up during the many months I spent at home, and this piece allowed me to move on and release those negative emotions in order to find a more hopeful outlook.”
– Sakura Fish, violin
Hope for Marimba – Adam Tan
“Adam Tan’s ‘Hope’ for marimba is beautiful in its honest simplicity, developing from a simple thread of tune. It is not a flashy or particularly challenging piece but has a pathos all of its own. The fact that it is new and composed in these difficult times gives the piece an extra appeal.”
– Paddy Davies, percussion
Symphony No.3 ‘Eroica’ – Beethoven
“So many of the pieces we are playing this summer tell a story musically and contextually of hardships; of ideals coming up against an anxious sense of reality. Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 known as ‘Eroica’ (Heroic) was named for his contemporary Napoleon, until Beethoven’s admiration turned to bitter disappointment and the composer scrubbed the name from his manuscript. Charged with emotion, Beethoven’s momentous, expansive vision of human dignity and hope endures.”
“I started learning this piece during lockdown at a time when I was feeling particularly isolated, lonely and somewhat despondent. I was badly missing making music with others. It is called ‘Malinconia’, and its melancholic character reflected my mood at the time. It is peaceful, serene, and reflective – almost prayer-like, and made me feel hopeful that soon we could be out of the very strange last few months, moving forwards and collaborating once again.”
– Maya de Souza, violin
White Cliffs of Dover – Walter Kent
“During the war, this song was seen as a symbol of hope and unity, values which I think we have all shared throughout the pandemic. For me it represents the light at the end of the tunnel.”
– Georgina Bloomfield, violin
Soulforce – Jessie Montgomery
“There is so much music waiting to be explored from the last decade and the fact that NYO is helping introduce these to a wider audience is fantastic. Jessie Montgomery's one-movement symphonic work portrays a solitary voice struggling against the shackles of oppression. With a title that draws on Martin Luther King Jr.’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech and embracing musical influences from big-band jazz, funk, hip-hop and R&B, Soul Force pays homage to the diverse musical voices that have risen up to create a space for free expression.”
– Will Clark, violin
‘Coming Home’ melody from ‘New World’ Symphony – Dvořák
“When Dvořák came to USA he told his students to listen to the diversity of indigenous and immigrant voices. This music represents this individuality and diversity, which combines into a whole greater than its component parts. It brings hope to all who hear it.”
– Zak El-Shirbiny, cello
Neeme Järvi and the Verbier Festival Orchestra perform Dvorák Symphony No. 9
Composer Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921) composed Le Carnaval des Animaux (Carnival of the Animals) in 1886 while taking a vacation in a small, beautiful Austrian village. The whimsical suite features 14 different movements, each one featuring an animal or group of animals.
In the past century and a half, the work has become one of the romantic-era composer’s most famous works, which is ironic because he was a bit embarrassed about it being published at all.
From the Serious Spawns the Whimsical
At the time, Camille Saint-Saëns at the height of his musical and compositional career. By the year 1886, he had garnered widespread public acclaim and was known as a serious and mature composer. Saint-Saëns was already well-admired by the public for previous piano and violin concertos as well as other orchestral pieces. The pianist, organist, and composer had also published and performed several operas by that time. Although his operas didn’t gain much public traction in the moment, they didn’t diminish his reputation either.
By the mid-to-late 1870s, Saint-Saëns enjoyed positive receptions in his honor across the European continent, adding to his reputation as a respected composer with his Danse Macabre in 1874, a superb First Cello Concerto, Op. 33, and a fourth piano concerto in 1875.
The year 1886 was an intense one for Saint-Saëns. He embarked on his Symphony #3 Organ in C minor, Op. 78. A San Francisco Symphony program note describes how immensely challenging the creative process was for him, “On May 18, 1886, Saint-Saëns wrote from London to his publisher, Auguste Durand: ‘We have sight-read the symphony. I was right: it is really terribly challenging.’” The process of composing the symphony was so difficult in fact, that Saint-Saëns took a break in the middle of the work and headed to Austria to rest.
Of course for the true composer “a restorative vacation” rarely means a complete break from music because the entire world is filled with song and inspiration. While he may have put his Third Symphony on hold for a bit, Saint-Saëns’ creative and artistic soul became entranced by the musical interpretation of the animals he had witnessed both in the small Austrian vacation town as well as throughout his world travels. (In addition to being a musical genius, Saint-Saëns was an avid world traveler, archaeologist, and writer.)
Thus, The Carnival of the Animals commenced, but only on paper...
Publication Put on Hold for 34 Years
Carnival of the Animals is typically the first of Saint-Saëns’ compositions a classical music lover ever hears and is considered one of his best works. Thus, it’s hard for contemporary musicians and audiences to believe his reluctance to publish and perform the work. Instead, Saint-Saëns struck a deal that the piece would not be published or performed (with one exception noted below) until after his death, which didn’t occur for another 34 years.
The gorgeous and lyrical orchestral piece is 14 movements long. As mentioned before, each one represents a single or group of animals, often depicted with humor and wit and exceptionally creative use of instrumental voicing. We invite you to listen to the Royal Philharmonic performing the full 14 movements as you read their descriptions.
If you aren’t already familiar with the work in its entirety, we suspect you’ll recognize more than one or two of them:
I. Introduction et marche royale du lion (Introduction and Royal March of the Lion)
II. Poules et coqs (Hens and Roosters)
III. Hémiones - animaux véloces (Wild Asses - quick animals)
IV. Tortues (Tortoises)
V. L'éléphant (The Elephant)
VI. Kangourous (Kangaroos)
VII. Aquarium
VIII. Personnages à longues oreilles (Characters with Long Ears)
IX. Le coucou au fond des bois (The Cuckoo in the Depths of the Woods)
X. Volière (Aviary)
XI. Pianistes (Pianists)
XII. Fossiles (Fossils)
XIII. Le cygne (The Swan)
XIV. Finale
There was one exception to Saint-Saëns’ “no publishing rule,” and that was for Movement 13: Le Cygne (The Swans). Watch the famous movement performed by cellist Yo-Yo Ma and pianist Kathryn Stott below:
Ultimately, the Carnival of the Animals feels like the ultimate expression of Saint-Saëns and his many talents. His virtuoso level of musicianship and composition, combined with his powers of archaeological observation, interests in the natural world, and abilities as a storyteller, yielded one of the most entertaining, moving, and famous classical music pieces ever written.
Iconic preserved moments of history’s most esteemed maestros, doing very normal stuff.
Photography is vital to our world. It gives us a deep connection to the past, preserving memories and moments of historic importance, and telling truths if ever sinister attempts are made to mask reality.
And as photography became increasingly widespread during the 19th century, classical composers began to enjoy their own moments under the flash-and-powder.
Now, from Gustav Mahler to Leonard Bernstein, we often hail these musicians’ art as so influential, so unrivalled, that we can forget they are just human beings like all the rest of us. Human beings, with really mundane hobbies outside of the recording studio.
Seeing is believing, as these great maestros show an interest in falconry, sledging and, well, swinging. Of the playground sort, mind you…
Claude Debussy having a nap (1900)
Dmitri Shostakovich watching his favourite football team on a Sunday morning in Moscow (1942)
Dame Ethel Smyth waiting impatiently for women to have equal rights (1930)
Young Sergei Prokofiev playing an intense game of chess (date unknown)
Richard Strauss in Schierke, Germany, sledging with noticeable discomfort (date unknown)
John Williams dropping by to visit Luciano Pavarotti in his dressing room at the Grammy Awards (1999)
Leonard Bernstein swinging barefoot outside his Fairfield, Connecticut home (1986)
German composer Karlheinz Stockhausen smoking a pipe during a recording session (1970)
Austrian conductor Herbert von Karajan enjoying a spot of falconry (1955)
French composer and conductor Nadia Boulanger, exasperated during rehearsals (1976)
Opera legend Jessye Norman and film maestro John Williams share a moment (2012)
Gustav Mahler enjoying some family time with wife Alma, and daughters Anna and Maria (1910)
Italian opera composer Giuseppe Verdi with his beloved dogs (1800s)
Composer Benjamin Britten and English tenor Peter Pears having a rather sombre picnic (1954)
Gustav and Alma Mahler taking a stroll nearby their summer residence in Toblach (1909)
Composer Sally Beamish at her home in Scotland, on a hammock, with a dog (2014)
Soviet composers Sergei Prokofiev, Dmitri Shostakovich and Aram Khachaturian, just hanging out (date unknown)
Composer John Philip Sousa among his four-legged “musical friends” (1922)
Leonard Bernstein at lunch with Aaron Copland at Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (1946)
Pioneering composer Amy Beach posing for a photo with four American female songwriters (1924)
Claude Debussy, flying a kite with Louis Laloy
Leonard Bernstein, sitting atop a tree in Israel (date unknown)
George Gershwin photographed while painting a portrait of Arnold Schoenberg (1936)
Incredible cat and dog portraits in music, from a musician who specializes in striking animal scores.
Furry friends, cats, dogs, bunny rabbits and more are being set to music, and they sound as lovely as they look.
After graduating from his music studies, Jerusalem-based composer Noam Oxman wanted to find a way to apply his talents. He thought about his three loves: animals, music and drawing. Could there be an ingenious way to combine all three?
This was how ‘Sympawnies’ came to be: creating bespoke compositions and graphic scores that illustrate much-loved pets.
Oxman says he was fascinated by J.S. Bach’s unique, stylized handwriting style. Bach’s musical hand was flamboyant, contoured and sometimes contained hidden symbols or meanings. Combining his compositional skills and his penmanship, Oxman created graphic shapes made out of musical notes, that also form a wonderful, unique composition.
Our cat-loving composer also says the musical language he uses in his symphonies is based on Baroque and Classical styles, because of the flexibility and expression it provides. Take a look at how a cat portrait becomes a quartet below...
Oxman studied jazz piano, composition and music theory at the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance. He also volunteers in animal shelters and works with rescue animals. Oh, he and his partner have three cats too.
What an amazing way to combine your loves. If you have a furry or feathered friend, who you’d like to have immortalized in music, Oxman is open for commissions. Find out more on his Instagram, Facebook or YouTube channels.
Florence Foster Jenkins, played by Meryl Streep in the 2016 biopic, was an American socialite and aspiring coloratura soprano. But everyone who went to her concerts was in on a strange joke: she was an absolutely terrible singer.
Florence Foster Jenkins built a career in the early 20th century on being “the world’s worst opera singer”. Her flat-by-a-country-mile top Fs, flamboyant costumes and self-parodic album titles have been the subject of fascination for years since, her legacy so enduring that Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant starred in a film about her life story a few years ago.
The daughter of a wealthy lawyer, Jenkins would sing at private gatherings organised by her husband, St Clair Bayfield (Hugh Grant), performing for friends and loyal followers who cherished and even milked Jenkins’ unwavering support for music and the arts. Knowing Jenkins’ influence, they kept their cringes and chuckles to themselves.
Eventually, the cod coloratura managed to squeeze her way – flamboyant bird wings, tiara and all – into New York’s prestigious Carnegie Hall, after which she was ruthlessly ridiculed by critics.
Two days later, Jenkins had a heart attack. She died a month later in her Manhattan home at age 76. Here’s her extraordinary story.
Read more: Florence Foster Jenkins proved you can be a terrible singer and still be absolutely awesome
Who was Florence Foster Jenkins?
Florence Foster Jenkins was a socialite from a well-off American family, who had one dream: to be a great opera singer. She watched her contemporaries, the likes of Lily Pons – played in the film by Russian soprano Aida Garifullina – in concert and was transfixed.
“I could do that,” thought Jenkins. And so, believing that her love of music could turn her into a gifted singer, she reached for the moon and grasped it with both hands.
She found a singing teacher and hired private pianist Cosmé McMoon (played by Big Bang Theory actor Simon Helberg) to accompany her lessons and with the help of her philandering husband, started to put on invite-only recitals.
Jenkins, whose father was a wealthy Philadelphia lawyer, had no trouble finding audiences willing to listen to her “singing”. She also supported young artists, who knew that her Jenkins could help them make it in the industry.
Her most famous recordings range from the lofty heights of Johann Strauss II’s ‘Laughing Song’ to Mozart’s ‘Queen of the Night’ aria, which featured on albums whose titles include the brilliant The Glory (????) of the Human Voice and Murder on the High Cs.
Jenkins, many believed, knew of her limitations as a singer – and cared not a fig.
Did Florence Foster Jenkins know she was bad?
Undecided, it seems.
One of the young artists Jenkins supported, Louise Frances Bickford, later became the teacher of vocal coach Bill Schuman, who in an interview told NPR that Bickford “said that Florence was in on the joke”.
Schuman added: “She loved the audience reaction and she loved singing. But she knew.”
Mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne disagrees. She told NPR: “I would say that she maybe didn’t know. First of all, we can’t hear ourselves as others hear us. We have to go by a series of sensations. We have to feel where it is.”
What we do know is that Jenkins was a delightfully flamboyant performer, waltzing through the audience at her recitals and throwing out bouquets of flowers. One anecdote says that she was involved in a minor taxi crash, went to scream and discovered that she could sing higher than the F sharp she had thought to be her limit. She thanked the taxi driver by sending him a box of cigars.
Did Florence Foster Jenkins have syphilis?
Florence Foster Jenkins caught syphilis from her first husband. The disease apparently affected her hearing, giving her tinnitus. Some reports even say that was what prevented her from singing in tune.
Did Meryl Streep do all her own singing in the film?
Talking about the film, Streep told Radio Times: “I feel like I’m a B, B+ singer – I’m very well aware of my limitations. Much as I would have liked to be a good singer after I began studying opera as a child, I gave it up very early and sort of ruined my voice with smoking, drinking and debauchery.”
Odd as it may seem for playing a character known for their terrible singing, Streep – who, herself, trained in opera – worked with a vocal coach to help her prepare for the role of Jenkins.
Twice a month for four months, Streep worked with music professor Arthur Levy. First, they learned the pieces properly. Then, they added the mess-ups. “These arias are no joke, even if you’re singing off-key,” Levy said. “Especially off-key, which strains the voice.”
Streep said she practised the ‘Queen of the Night’ aria “eight times one day. And then came back and sang it eight times the next day”.
As a result, Streep is extraordinarily good at singing badly.
Talking on Lorraine, Streep says of Jenkins’ curious technique: “She’d go off in the weirdest places and it was the particularity of her getting things wrong that was so funny. You can hear her getting ready to sing something and she spends all of her voice on the beginning of the phrase and there’s nothing left at the end, and she trails off.”
What happened at the Carnegie Hall recital?
The film production of Jenkins’ story culminates in the amateur soprano singing the ‘Queen of the Night’ aria at New York’s Carnegie Hall. She invites a large army contingent to thank her country’s armed forces, who evidently weren’t prepared for the joke. As soon as Jenkins starts to sing, the soldiers collapse into laughter.
In real life, Jenkins really did perform at Carnegie Hall, her debut selling out within two hours. Her audiences had been begging her to perform there for years and flocked there in their masses as soon as they got the chance.
On Carnegie Hall’s website, a writer remembers how that night, “She walked onstage in these ridiculous costumes that she’d made herself. She’d throw roses out into the audience, her assistants would go out and collect them, and she’d throw them out into the audience again. The audience would not let her go home. They cheered her and clapped.”
What happened to Florence Foster Jenkins?
Two days after the Carnegie Hall performance, Jenkins had a heart attack. And one month later, she died in her Manhattan home at 76.
In her final hour, Jenkins reportedly said: “People may say I can’t sing, but no one can ever say I didn’t sing.”
Florence Foster Jenkins, the world’s best bad singer, brought out the amateur and aspiring musician in all of us. What a legacy to have left.