Moved to Tears

by Frances Wilson , Interlude

Music has the power to tug at the heartstrings, and evoking emotion is the main purpose of music – whether it’s joy or sadness, excitement or meditation. A certain melody or line of a song, a falling phrase, the delayed gratification of a resolved harmony – all these factors make music interesting, exciting, calming, pleasurable and moving.

Tears and chills – or “tingles” – on hearing music are a physiological response which activates the parasympathetic nervous system, as well as the reward-related brain regions of the brain. Studies have shown that around 25% of the population experience this reaction to music. But it’s much more than a pure physiological response. Classical music in particular steers a mysterious path through our senses, triggering unexpected and powerful emotional responses, which sometimes result in tears – and not just tears of sadness.

Tears flow spontaneously in response to a release of tension, perhaps at the end of a particularly engrossing performance. Certain pieces of music can remind us of past events, experiences and people, triggering memories and associated emotions. At other times, we may feel tearfully awestruck in the face of the greatness or sheer beauty of the music.

This last response has a name – Stendhal Syndrome – and while the syndrome is more commonly associated with art, it can be applied equally to the powerful emotional reaction which music provokes.

A psychosomatic disorder, Stendhal Syndrome, or hyperkulturemia, causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, sweating, disorientation, fainting, tears and confusion when someone is looking at artwork (or hearing a piece of music) with which he or she connects emotionally on a profound level. The phenomenon, also called ‘Florence Syndrome’, is named after the French author Marie-Henri Beyle , who wrote under the pen-name of ‘Stendhal’. While visiting the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, he became overcome with emotion and noted his reactions:

“I was in a sort of ecstasy, from the idea of being in Florence, close to the great men whose tombs I had seen. Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty … I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations … Everything spoke so vividly to my soul.”

While there is some debate as to whether the syndrome actually exists, there is no doubt that music (and art and literature) can have a very profound effect on our emotional responses.

Rossini and His Overtures

 by Georg Predota, Interlude

Rossini’s Otello

We celebrate Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868) as one of the most successful and popular operatic composers of his time. And although you might never have actually seen or heard a complete Rossini opera, I am sure you know a good many of his overtures. In fact, the overtures have long been staples of the orchestral repertory and much more frequently performed than the operas to which they belong. It is a curious situation in that the reputation of his dramas has never equaled the sweetness “of their melodies, the richness of their harmonies, the brilliance of their orchestration, and the power of their rhythms.” We do know that almost all of his overtures make use of musical elements and melodies that appear somewhere in the opera, which begs the question if Rossini composed the overture before or after he had completed the opera? According to legend, that’s exactly the question a young composer asked Rossini, who described six different ways of composing overtures. Rossini apparently said, “I composed the overture to Otello in a little room in which that most ferocious of all managers, Barbaja, shut me up with a dish of macaroni and told me that he would let me out only after the last note of the overture had been written.” As a point of reference, Otello was first performed in Naples at the Teatro del Fondo in 1816, and the notorious Barbaja was indeed involved. As far as the overture goes, this one was clearly written after the opera had been completed.

Rossini’s La Gazza Ladra

The same process was apparently at work with the overture to La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie). Rossini reports that he “wrote the overture to Gazza Ladra, on the very day of the first performance of the opera in the wings of the Scala Theatre in Milan. The manager had put me under the guard of four stagehands who were ordered to throw down the music pages, sheet by sheet, to copyist seated below. As the manuscript was copied, it was sent page by page to the conductor who then rehearsed the music. If I had failed to keep the production going fast, my guards were instructed to throw me in person down to the copyists.” Fortunately, Rossini was able to keep up, and therefore managed to witness the huge success of the opera. Rossini himself was thrilled by his opera and a few days after the première wrote in an excited letter to his mother “that it was so full of music that one could make three or four operas from it,” and that it was “the most beautiful music I have written so far.”

Rossini’s The Barber of Seville

Rossini’s opera buffa The Barber of Seville is primarily known today for its rousing overture. However, the premiere on 20 February 1816 at the Teatro Argentina in Rome was a disaster! The next day Rossini wrote to his mother, “Last night my opera was staged and it was solemnly booed, what mad, what extraordinary things are to be seen in this country. I will tell you that in the midst of it all the music is very fine and already people are talking about its second evening when the music will be heard, something that did not happen last night, from the beginning to the end without the constant noise accompanying the whole performance.” Rossini was entirely correct about the second performance, as it was an unqualified triumph. But how did Rossini compose the famous overture? He writes, “I made my task easier in the case of the overture to the Barber of Seville, which I left unwritten; instead I made use of the overture to my opera Elisabetta, which is a very serious opera, whereas the Barber of Seville is a comic opera.” In fact, the overture is actually twice re-cycled as he had originally written it for the opera Aureliano in Palmira of 1813.

Rossini’s Le Comte Ory

Rossini’s fourth opera for Paris, Le Comte Ory, was first staged at the Paris Opéra in August 1828. Set in thirteenth-century France, the opera deals with the attempts of Count Ory to woo the Countess Adèle, whose husband is away on a crusade. There is much disguising—including hermits and nuns—and everybody manages to run away just before the husband of the Countess returns. The “Introduction” is well matched to the plot, its outer sections suggesting the Count’s cunning exploits, with a martial passage at its heart, the returning opening section ending in the plucked notes of the strings.” How did Rossini go about composing the “Introduction?” According to the composer, “I composed the overture to the Comte Orly while fishing in the company of a Spanish musician who the whole time talked incessantly about the Spanish political situation.” Really doesn’t tell us much about the creative process, but it’s a nice anecdote nevertheless.

Rossini’s William Tell

When we talk about instrumental favorites in contemporary concert halls, we invariably stumble across the overture to William Tell. While the opera itself has been largely forgotten, the overture owns much of its popularity to varied incorporations within expressions of popular culture. Let’s not be deceived, however, because the popular appeal of Rossini’s William Tell Overture was instantaneous. It was immediately published independently from the opera, and Franz Liszt promptly fashioned his famous piano transcription. Rossini tells us that he “composed the overture to William Tell in the lodgings on the Boulevard Montmartre filled night and day with a crowd of people smoking, drinking, talking, singing, and bellowing in my ears while I was laboring on the music.”

Rossini’s Mosè in Egitto

If that little anecdote is true, Rossini must not have been easily distracted, except possibly by food. But his answer also indicates that composing was not always easy. Rossini confirms that notion by stating, “I never composed any overture to my opera Moses, which is the easiest way of all.”

101-year-old man with Alzheimer’s shows us all the eternal power of music

Antonio Cadenas plays piano. Picture: Facebook / Antonio Cadenas

By Kyle Macdonald, ClassicFM London

 

Today, on World Alzheimer’s Day, here’s a beautiful moment to remind us how deeply music runs – in our mind, body and spirit.

Spanish musician Antonio Cadenas celebrated his 101st birthday in May. He’s a man with a remarkable story and talent, which speaks to the profound power of music-making.

Cadenas has Alzheimer’s Disease, a syndrome that results in a decline of brain functioning and impacts on thinking skills and other mental abilities. Today, 21 September, is World Alzheimer’s Day, an international campaign to raise awareness surrounding the issues faced by people with dementia.

Remarkably, it is possible for musical memories to be stored in different areas of the brain that have been unaffected by the decline.

And incredibly, Antonio can still remember the music and his piano technique. He plays Lagrimas y sonrisas, by Juan D’Arienzo. You can see the music flow through the fingers of the centenarian. It’s powerful and inspiring.

Read more: How playing an instrument benefits your brain

Antonio Cadenas was born in Terque, Spain on May 10, 1919. As a child, his first music lessons came from his mother and priests at a local cathedral.

He served in the military from 1942 to 1946, before continuing music and working as a teacher up until his retirement in the 1980s. He now lives with his son and his family.

Thank you for sharing your music and talent, Antonio.

How does music affect the culture of the Filipinos?

Bisaya

Barok and Takya Blog | Bisaya Podcast

Music as a whole can be used as an encouraging or depressing way to look at life. In this sense, it plays a big role in shaping the culture and values of people and the rest of the world. We see this through kundiman - it carries sentiments and emotions that evoke memories and images for Filipinos. These may clash with the outside world, but this clash gives us identity: these cultural imprints are then integrated back into society to create our metamorphosis into another era. So it's not just about tradition; it's also about forging new ground for generations to come.

This ever-evolving system creates such wonderful flavours that we're able to adapt ourselves better than ever before--we learn new things and explore different ways to make the best out of them. Music is one way we express ourselves, and through this method, we show our appreciation for humility and hard work, two values that shape our bustling nation into a happy place worth living in.

So what does music really mean to Filipinos? It simply tells us where we've been and where we could go. It tells a story that everyone can appreciate and relate to, which is why it's a big part of every Filipino culture.

Francisco Buencamino - his music and his life

Francisco Buencamino belonged to a family of musicians. He was born in San Miguel de Mayumo, Bulacan, on November 5, 1883.  In 1930, he founded the Academy of Music of Buencamino. His musical styles are Kundimans and Sarzuela.

In the 1940s, he started working as a musical director. He also composed music for films produced by Sampaguita Pictures, LVN and Excelsior. For a time, Francisco Buencamino frequently acted on stage. He also collaborated on the plays written and produced by Aurelio Tolentino.

Francisco first learnt music from his father. At age 12, he could play the organ. At 14, he was sent to study at the Liceo de Manila. There, he took up courses in composition and harmony under Marcelo Adonay. He also took up pianoforte courses under a Spanish music teacher. He did not finish his education as he became interested in the sarswela.  

In the early 1900s, Francisco Buencamino taught music at the Ateneo de Manila and at the Centro Escolar de Senoritas. At the latter, he founded the Conservatory of Music and was its head until 1938. At the same time, he also handled music lessons at the Liceo de Manila. He founded the Buencamino Music Academy in 1930. It was authorized by the Department of Public Instruction to grant music degrees. Some of his pupils were Nicanor Abelardo, Ernestina Crisologo, Estela Velasco, Beatrice Alba, and Amelia Hidalgo. In the 1940s, he started working as a musical director. He also composed music for films produced by Sampaguita Pictures, LVN and Excelsior. For a time, Francisco Buencamino frequently acted on stage. He also collaborated on the plays written and produced by Aurelio Tolentino. The Philippine Music Publishers, which Buencamino established, undertook the printing of his more important compositions, but it was not a successful venture.  

Some of the sarswelas he wrote are: "Marcela" (1904), "Si Tio Celo" (1904) and "Yayang " (1905). In 1908, the popularity of the sarswela started to wane because of American repression and the entry of silent movies. Francisco Buencamino then turned to composing kundimans.  

One of his earliest compositions is "En el bello Oriente" (1909), which uses Jose Rizal's lyrics. "Ang Una Kong Pag-ibig", a popular kundiman, was inspired by his wife.  In 1938, he composed an epic poem which won a prize from the Far Eastern University during one of the annual carnivals. His "Mayon Concerto" is considered his magnum opus. Begun in 1943 and finished in 1948, "Mayon Concerto" had its full rendition in February 1950 at the graduation recital of Rosario Buencamino at the Holy Ghost College. "Ang Larawan" (1943), also one of his most acclaimed works, is a composition based on a Balitaw tune. The orchestral piece, "Pizzicato Caprice" (1948) is a version of this composition. Many of his other compositions were lost during the Japanese Occupation, when he had to evacuate his family to Novaliches, Rizal.  

As a musical director, he was involved in anumber of movies such as "Mabangong Bulaklak", "Ang Ibong Adarna", "Mutya ng Pasig", and "Alitaptap".  

Francisco Buencamino died on the 16th of October, 1952. in the same year, he was given a posthumous Outstanding Composer Award by the Manila Music Lovers Society.  

Music of the Philippines (Filipino: Himig ng Pilipinas)

 

Music of the Philippines (Filipino: Himig ng Pilipinas) include musical performance arts in the Philippines or by Filipinos composed in various genres and styles. The compositions are often a mixture of different Asian, Spanish, Latin American, American, and indigenous influences.

Notable folk song composers include the National Artist for Music Lucio San Pedro, who composed the famous "Sa Ugoy ng Duyan" that recalls the loving touch of a mother to her child. Another composer, the National Artist for Music Antonino Buenaventura, is notable for notating folk songs and dances. Buenaventura composed the music for "Pandanggo sa Ilaw".

Gong music

Philippine gong music can be divided into two types: the flat gong commonly known as gangsà and played by the groups in the Cordillera region and the bossed gongs played among the Islam and animist groups in the southern Philippines.

Kulintang refers to a racked gong chime instrument played in the southern islands of the Philippines, along with its varied accompanying ensembles. Different groups have different ways of playing the kulintang. Two major groups seem to stand out in kulintang music. These are the Maguindanaon and the Maranaw. The kulintang instrument itself could be traced to either the introduction of gongs to Southeast Asia from China before the 10th century CE or more likely, to the introduction of bossed gong chimes from Java in the 15th century. Nevertheless, the kulintang ensemble is the most advanced form of ensemble music with origins in the pre-colonial epoch of Philippine history and is a living tradition in southern parts of the country.

The tradition of kulintang ensemble music itself is regional, predating the establishment of the present-day Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia. It transcends religion, with Buddhist, Hindu Animist, and Christian ethnic groups in Borneo, Flores, and Sulawesi playing kulintangan; and Muslim groups playing the same genre of music in Mindanao, Palawan, and the Sulu archipelago. It is distantly related to thegamelan ensembles of Java and Bali, as well as the musical forms in Mainland Southeast Asia, mainly because of the usage for the same bossed racked gong chimes that play both melodic and percussive.

Hispanic-influenced music

Spain ruled the Philippines for 333 years, and Hispanic influence in Filipino culture is ubiquitous. This influence can be easily seen in folk and traditional music, especially in the Tagalog and Visayan regions, where Spanish influence was the greatest.

Rondalla music

The Rondalla is a traditional string orchestra comprising two-string, mandolin-type instruments such as the banduria and laud; a guitar; a double bass; and often a drum for percussion. The rondalla has its origins in the Iberian rondalla tradition and is used to accompany several Hispanic-influenced song forms and dances.

Harana and Kundiman

The Harana and Kundiman are popular lyrical songs dating back to the Spanish period and are customarily used in courtship rituals. The Harana is rooted in the Mexican-Spanish from Spain, traditional and based on the rhythmic patterns of the habanera. The Kundiman, meanwhile, has pre-colonial origins from the Tagalophone parts of the country, uses a triple meter rhythm, and is characterized by beginning in a minor key and shifting to a major one in the second half. But make no mistake, harana and kundiman are stylistically different. Whereas harana is in 2/4/ time, kundiman is in 3/4. The formula is verse 1 on minor key (e.g. C Minor) followed by verse 2 on parallel major key (C Major) midway through.

In the 1920s, Harana and Kundiman became more mainstream after performers such as Atang de la Rama, Jovita Fuentes, Conching Rosal, Sylvia La Torre, and Ruben Tagalog introduced them to a wider audience.

Tinikling

The Tinikling is a dance from Leyte which involves two individual performers hitting bamboo poles, using them to beat, tap, and slide on the ground, in coordination with one or more dancers who step over and in between poles. It is one of the more iconic Philippine dances and is similar to other Southeast Asian bamboo dances.

Cariñosa

The Cariñosa (meaning "loving" or "affectionate one") is the national dance and is part of the María Clara suite of Philippine folk dances. It is notable for the use of a fan and handkerchief in amplifying romantic gestures expressed by the couple performing the traditional courtship dance. The dance is similar to the Mexican Jarabe Tapatío, and is related to the Kuracha, Amenudo, and Kuradang dances in the Visayas and Mindanao Area.

Franz Liszt in Istanbul

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Franz Liszt

Towards the end of his long performance career, Franz Liszt finally managed to visit the Ottoman Empire in 1847. Liszt had wanted to visit Istanbul as early as 1838, and wrote to a friend, “… [I have a] desire and strong decision to go to Istanbul, although I would need signed letters of introductions for cities like Izmir, Istanbul and Athens from Prince Metternich.” In the end, the 1838 trip did not materialize because his mistress Marie d’Agoult was pregnant, however, Liszt continued to show great interest in all aspects of Turkish culture that had already attracted a number of his close friends.

Istanbul

Comtess Marie d’Agoult reports “Liszt speaks and dreams only of the Sultan, and wishes to bring his music to the Ottoman people.” And in 1846, Gaetano Donizetti wrote to his brother Giuseppe, who was director of the Imperial Orchestra at the Ottoman palace, that “my dear friend Franz Liszt is greatly desirous to visit Istanbul.”

Sultan Abdul-Medgid

Eventually, with the help of his famous poet friend Alphonse de Lamartine, Liszt’s visit was scheduled for 1847, with a local newspaper excitedly reporting, “According to some accounts, Monsieur Liszt, who is famous among the piano masters and all the governmental centers in Europe, will come to Istanbul.” In the meantime, Donizetti had received confirmation from the instrument maker Erard in Paris, that as soon as Liszt arrives there, “Erard will sent a beautiful piano with seven octaves, so that the genius and piano-virtuoso will find a fine and worthy instrument at his disposal.”

Bosphorus

Liszt, after playing concerts in Odessa and Elizabethgrad, arrived in Istanbul on 8th June 1847 by steamboat from Galatz and was welcomed by the pianist Baran Resta, the Sultan’s chief translator. Writing to Marie d’Agoult he subsequently reports, “His Majesty the Sultan was extremely gracious to me, and that after having compensated me both in money… and with a gift (a charming enamel box with brilliants), he conferred on me the Order of Nisan-Iftihar in diamonds. I admit that I was greatly surprised to find His Highness so well informed about my bit of celebrity that long before my arrival he had told both the Austrian Ambassador and Donizetti, that as soon as I had disembarked they were to take me to his Palace of Tcheragan.”

Çırağan Palace in 1840s © Wikiwand

Liszt performed twice for Sultan Abdul-Medgid, the potentate who had ruled since he was sixteen, and who was highly interested in Western music and had a passion for the opera. A musical journalist provided the following humorous description: “Liszt was welcomed with enormous honor and compliment. A big celebration was made. The Sultan wanted to show his musical taste, and had invited an orchestra and singers to the palace. After the symphony and the chorus finished, Liszt was asked to perform. He played three pieces, the Andante from the Fantasy on Lucia die Lammermoor, his overture of William Tell and Norma. After the first pieces the Sultan called for water pipes, and he smoked with lust, making a noise like the Etna volcano. Liszt performed the final piece under a great cloud of smoke, and the Sultan winked one eye meaningfully and continued to smoke more excitedly. Liszt was very impressed with the Sultan’s modesty and knowledge, and he was invited to come to the palace again.”

Liszt also gave a number of public concerts, including a musical matinee on 18 June at the Franchini Mansion at Buyukdere. Further private and public concerts were held at the Fethi Pasha Mansion and the Russian Embassy at Pera on 28 June. During this concert, “Liszt saw the panorama of Istanbul from the window and got really excited of seeing the east and the west at the same time. He even thought that he could seen Mount Olympus in the distance.” During his five-week stay, Giuseppe Donizetti hosted Liszt and he arranged accommodations for him at the home of the piano manufacturer Alexander Kommendinger. Donizetti had previously composed two marches for the Sultan, and at Liszt’s request, Donizetti gave him his compositions. “Liszt was in my house,” he writes. “He has just left. He wanted the notes of the two marches I composed for the Sultan. He said he was going to work them into variations sets.” Liszt first played the variations during concerts at Buyukdere on 14 and 15 June. Liszt eventually wrote out the manuscript and gave it to the Austrian ambassador, who passed it to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who in turn presented it to the Sultan. In return, Liszt received the already mentioned enamel box studded with diamonds. Additionally, the Sultan handed Liszt a special seal, with the name of the composer written in Arabic alphabet with Turkish letters, and we do know that Liszt used it to seal a number of his letters. As it turns out, Istanbul delivered the perfect setting for Liszt to say goodbye to his life as a traveling virtuoso.

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