Heavy Metal Friar

The Gods of Metal festival is the biggest metal event in Italy.  This year, the opening act was Fratello Metallo, an Italian metal band… fronted by a Capuchin friar named Brother Cesare Bonizzi.

Heavy metal is the Devil’s music right?  Put a priest up on stage and watch him get torn apart by the slobbering neck-whipping horn-fingering hordes of depraved metalheads.

Or not.  Metal has welcomed him with open arms.  This isn’t surprising, even though on the surface it doesn’t seem to make any sense.

Metal prides itself on being outsider music.  A priest singing metal isn’t going to be a standard issue clergyman: instead of condemning this form of music out of hand, which is something the clergy tend to do with heavy metal, he celebrates it.  Not just celebrates, he actively and openly participates in it.  That’s a very “metal” thing to do.

Metal is also incredibly earnest: there’s little room for irony in this music.  That guy headbanging in the corner, or walking down the street showing off a black t-shirt of a band only other metalheads will recognize, wears his heart on his sleeve.  It’s an honesty, an unselfconsciousness, that is at odds with our irony-drenched popular culture.  He doesn’t care if you don’t get it, or if you think it’s funny or stupid.  Rather than suffering from the hipster’s cynicism and mockery, he puts the onus right back on said hipster to justify his own disaffection.

I suspect a priest in his clerical garb feels much the same way.  He has an earnest and un-ironic belief in God, regardless of what the people around him think of how he looks or how he thinks.  Brother Bonizzi can back it up too: he found his calling and entered a convent at age 29, shortly afterward he went to the Ivory Coast as a missionary.  He was ordained a priest in 1983 had has been actively doing pastoral work since then.

Thus, if a priest who genuinely believes professes that belief through metal then he’s welcomed by metalheads. Sure, there are some that might not want him there – it doesn’t sound as if he’s had universal acceptance.  Anti-religious themes and occult symbolism are common in heavy metal.  But that’s done in a spirit of rebellion against the mainstream, not in a sense of genuine allegiance with The Devil.  Brother Bonizzi recognizes this: ”There are maybe two or three satanic groups, but I think it’s an act so that they sell more,” he said.

Most metalheads see Brother Bonizzi as, well, a brother.  ”Heavy metal has given me the opportunity to meet a world of people of a unique beauty and tenderness,” he said in an interview.  But the friar admitted that not everyone has welcomed him with open arms.  “About 90 per cent are very good, they accept (me), the other 10 per cent are more extreme,” he said in another interview. There are a few metalheads out there that are so caught up in their particular ideology, like the Black Metal guys, that they won’t stand the sight of a priest under any circumstance.  But they’re the lunatic fringe of the lunatic fringe.

Belting out metal songs in a friar’s outfit feels perfectly natural to Fratello Metallo’s unique frontman.  I think metalheads pick up on that, and respect it.  The friar might look and dress different from most headbangers, but they’re kindred spirits.

Classical 24: Johan Strauss’ Waltzes

(A) Introduction

Listening to Also sprach Zarathustra, which I wrote about in my last post, made me want to rent 2001: A Space Odyssey again.  I think Stanley Kubrick was a big fan of guys named Strauss, because he used Johan Strauss’ Blue Danube Waltz for the magnificent docking sequence early on in the movie.

 

(B) Johann Strauss II (1825-1899)

First things first: Johann Strauss and Richard Strauss aren’t related.  I thought they were.  Oops.

 

Johann was known in his lifetime as “the waltz king”.  He wrote roughly 400 of them and almost single-handedly made it popular.  By the time he was done, the waltz had gone from being a grubby peasant dance to a favourite form of entertainment for the Hapsburg court.

 

His dad Johann I, also a composer, didn’t want his son to follow in his footsteps – he wanted him to become a banker instead.  But Junior rebelled.  It wasn’t easy – a lot of concert halls were reluctant to hire him in his youth because they were worried they’d make dad – already an established composer – pretty mad.  So he left home to compose in foreign lands.  Junior wasn’t just rebelling against his father, he also sided with the bourgeois revolutionaries in Austria at the time.  The Austrian royalty weren’t pleased (nor was dad, a pro-aristocracy guy).

 

Eventually, though, dad died of scarlet fever and Johann II took over his orchestra.  Junior eventually surpassed his father in popularity and influence.  In fact, Wagner and Richard Strauss were admirers.

 

A Strauss family ‘trademark’ was the “Vorgeiger” tradition of conducting with a violin in his hand.  Apparently the whole family did it, and some conductors who are Strauss enthusiasts still do it when playing his works.

 

(C) The Waltz

What is a waltz?  A waltz is a piece of music dance done in triple meter – that is, in 3/4 time (or sometimes 3/8 or 6/8), with the emphasis on the first note (one two three – one two three).  Kinda like a polka, but with more dignity and less lederhosen.  While the waltz can be danced to, it’s not always composed as a dance.

 

The waltz first became fashionable in Vienna in the 1780s, and spread to other countries.  Then Johann II came along and turned it into an art form.

 

Some pop waltzes, for your reference, are “Three Times A Lady” by the Commodores, “If You Don’t Know Me By Now” by Simply Red, and (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman by Aretha Franklin.  Also, Danny Elfman likes using the waltz, and did so in his soundtracks to the Batman and Spider-Man movies.

 

And now, a word about dancing.  The waltz is a partner dance in “closed position”: you and your partner hold each other and are facing each other.  The lead dancer’s right hand is on the follower’s back somewhere (no, not on the ass, lest you want a smack).  The follower’s left hand is on the lead’s right shoulder.  The other hands are clasped together.  Once you’ve assumed the position, you twirl around the dance floor.

 

The waltz became the template on which many other ballroom dances were based.  So, depending on whether or not you like ballroom dancing, you can thank or blame the waltz (and Johann Strauss the Second) for it.

 

(D) Johan Strauss II’s Waltzes

 

An der schonen, blauen Donau (The Beautiful Blue Danube), Op. 314

This is the music that accompanies Kubrick’s sci-fi-riffic docking sequence.  It was also used in an old cartoon with quacking ducks.  I prefer to remember it as the former.  The way it sways is fantastic.

 

It’s one of the most frequently played and recognized pieces of classical music – in fact, it’s the unofficial national anthem of Austria.

 

The main riff from this waltz is also used in Johan’s waltz Geschichten aus dem Wienerwald (Tales from the Vienna Woods), Op. 325.  In fact, a lot of Blue Danube is used in Vienna Woods.  Maybe Johan meant there to be some thematic consistency between the two waltz about geographic locations near Vienna.

 

Wein, Weib und Gesang (Wine, Women and Song) Op. 333

What a great title!  Apparently, the melody is quintessentially Viennese.  I can’t really tell how or why, though.

 

Fruhlingsstimmen (Voices of Spring), Op. 410

When Johan wrote this he intended for part of it to be sung – a waltz with solo voice accompaniment.  In fact, it seems Johan wrote a bunch of waltzes with voice, but all I can find are the instrumental versions.  I wonder why?

 

I’ve heard this one!  It’s a jaunty, happily swinging piece, much like the Blue Danube waltz.

 

Kaiser Walzer (Emperor Waltz), Op. 437

Strauss wrote this to commemorate a visit between the Austrian and German heads of state.  I thought Strauss was a rabble-rouser?  You sold out, man.

 

It starts out quietly enough but quickly gets into some stately, almost martial, music.  The main theme is pretty well-known, as even I’ve heard it.

 

(D) Commentary

I’d have to say the Blue Danube is my favourite of these.  There’s a reason why it’s so popular – it’s a great song.  However, I can take two, maybe three, waltzes in a row at the most.  All that oom-pa-pa oom-pa-pa really starts to get on my nerves.

 

I could watch the docking sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey all day, though.  What can I say, I’m a geek.  Maybe I’ll just stick to an occasional movie rental to get my waltz fix – if I ever start jonesing for waltzes in the first place.

 

(E) What I’ve Learned

 

-Johan and Richard Strauss weren’t related.

-Johan II was the greatest Waltz King, who had a troubled relationship with his father and authority in general.  It sounds like he really had to struggle to find his own voice, and I can sympathize with that.

 

“No Air” by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown

I don’t follow pop music much these days, but every now and then I stumble onto something.  In this case, it’s this ballad by American Idol winner Jordin Sparks and R&B singer Chris Brown.

 

Part of the reason I like the song so much was my first impression: I first heard it used on the reality show “So You Think You Can Dance”, one of the few reality shows that showcases talented people.  It was used as a modern dance number; the premise was a soldier being called off to war and leaving his girl behind.  The dancing was fantastic, very expressive, and really brought out the heartbreak of the song.  It was a stunning performance by Katee Shean and Joshua Allen.

 

One of my favourite bits is a little detail in the bridge – a nice chugging guitar riff worthy of Dokken, played softly in the background.  It was a nice bit of texture that makes the bridge a little more aggressive, a little more raw, and coincides nicely with the increased drama of Sparks’ singing.  Another great moment is the line, “leaving me with just me”, a simple, direct, nicely written punch.

 

The song loses its focus a little with some excessive wailing when the chorus outro hits, but then it settles back into place and fades out nicely.  I’ve got it on my iPod and I listen to it a lot.

 

On a cynical side note: nice bit of cross-promotion there, Simon Cowell.  The song from a contestant on one Cowell-produced show gets used in a dance routine on another Simon Cowell show!

Classical 23: The Tone Poems of Richard Strauss

(A) Introduction

We’re starting this post by paying a visit to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO).  The CSO has magnanimously put weekly radio broadcasts on its website; if you don’t catch the original broadcast, you can still listen online for a couple of weeks.

Each broadcast contains a variety of live performances and studio recordings.  Not only can you listen to the performances, they also include commentary and interviews – so you get an annotated version of the piece.

I listened to the CSO’s broadcast of a collection of orchestral works by Richard Strauss.  Strauss and the CSO had a history of collaborating together, having premiered several of his works for US audiences.  He was also the CSO’s first guest conductor way back in 1904.

Unfortunately, I only listened to it once before the CSO rolled it into the archive, and I can’t listen to it anymore – they moved on to Prokofiev.  So, I’m forced to make up my own Strauss program for this blog.  Back to the Naxos Music Library!

(B) Richard Strauss (1864-1949)

Richard Strauss was a German composer who worked in the late Romantic and early Modern era of classical music.  He was also a successful conductor.

He started out heavily influenced by the Romantics, but moved away from them and started composing tone poems.  His development of the tone poem is considered his principal achievement in the canon of music; he developed the tone-poem to an unrivalled level of expressiveness.  Once he conquered the tone poem, he wrote some operas near the end of his life.

The big controversy surrounding Strauss is the nature of his relationship with the Nazis.  Some people say he was apolitical, and others claim he was a card-carrying member of the Nazi Party.  Goebbels appointed him President of the State Music Bureau; while in that position he composed the theme for the 1936 Olympics and he got chummy with some high-ranking Nazis.

On the other hand, he seems to have been trying to protect his Jewish daughter-in-law and some Jewish friends from persecution – in fact, he used his connections to have his daughter-in-law released from house arrest once.  This might explain why he pandered to the fascists.

However, Strauss never came out for or against Nazi anti-Semitism.  No one really knows where he stood on it – he kept his mouth shut.

Here’s a great quote from him in his late years: “I may not be a first-rate composer, but I am a first-class second-rate composer!”

(C) The Tone Poem

What’s a tone poem?  It’s a piece of orchestral music, in one movement, in which some extra-musical source provides a narrative or illustrative element. This source could be a poem, novel, folk tale, painting or some other work of art.  A symphonic poem may stand on its own, or can be part of a series combined into a suite.

The tone poem isn’t broken down into separate movements, like a concerto or symphony.  I assumed that meant the piece would be shorter than those other forms, but I’m wrong – they can clock in at over twenty minutes.  Not as long as a full symphony, but the same length of a concerto or a string quartet.

Strauss gets his own special classifications.  Many of his works are given a TrV number: the Richard-Strauss-Werkverzeichnis.  They were compiled by Franz Trenner based on Strauss’ diaries.

Don Juan, Op. 20, TrV 156 (1889)

Let’s go back and revisit Don Giovanni with this tone poem, which Strauss wrote at only 24 years old.  It’s written for a full orchestra.  Classical music buffs consider this piece to be the coming out party for Strauss’ formal style and tone.

It starts out nice and slow, but you get an occasional dramatic swirl in the early going.  Then the trumpet really kicks in about half way through, leading up to a crescendo drum roll.  By the end it’s soaring, climaxing the slow build that’s been going on since the beginning of the piece.  It ends very, very quietly.  Nice pacing, Strauss!

Macbeth, Op. 23, TrV 163 (1888/1890)

Written between 1886 and 1888, Macbeth was Strauss’s first tone poem.  Even though it’s listed after Don Juan.  I dunno…  It marks Strauss’ transition from his conservative style early works to his progressive later period.  Strauss used Macbeth as an aesthetic manifesto, describing it as “the precise expression of my artistic ideas and feelings”.

It starts out as a flourish, unlike the quiet intro of Don Juan.  It meanders back and forth, coming to a crashing end – much like Macbeth himself, who slowly goes mad as he gathers power.  Lady Macbeth, his crazy-ass wife, lurks in this piece somewhere, too.

Tod und Verklärung (Death and Transfiguration), Op. 24, TrV 158 (1889)

Strauss wrote this as a rumination on the last hours of a dying artist.  Many years later, he was to say on his own deathbed that his feelings mirrored the mood of the artist in this piece.

This piece is divided into four sections – each one representing a different part of the dying man’s struggle.  Unlike symphonies or concertos, the piece is meant to be played uninterrupted, so as to form one continuous song.  The sections are:

I. Largo begins the piece with the sick man lying on his bed in his dimly lit room, near death.

II. Allegro molto agitato things pick up as the battle between life and death offers him no rest.

III. Meno mosso has the artist’s life passing before his exhausted eyes.

IV. Moderato Death wins, as always, but the soul gains redemption.

The piece really conveys the deathbed struggle well, with lots of ups and downs.  It starts out so quietly that I wondered if my headphones were working properly… and ends with a beautiful, uplifting final movement.  Even in death, it’s a happy ending.

 

Also sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30, TrV 176 (1896)

The camera soars above the moon and the Earth, with the sun breaking across the curves of the planetary spheres… yes indeed, this piece was the one used by Stanley Kubrick in the opening scene of the epic film  2001.  Strauss’ inspiration for this piece was Nietzsche’s book by the same title.  This is the book where Nietzsche declares that “God is dead” and talks about the übermensch (and is subsequently misunderstood by devout Christians, objectivists and goth wannabes ever since).

 

Strauss organized this longer tone poem (roughly 30 minutes) into nine parts.  As with Tod und Verklärung, it’s to be played without pausing between parts.

 

Part I (Also sprach Zarathustra) is the famous three-note rising intro that’s forever associated with Kubrickian glee.  Those three notes recur throughout the rest of the piece.

Part VI (Song of Science) contains some gut-crushing low notes by the basses.  Apparently the basses have to play the “contra-b”, that is, the lowest key on the piano; this hardly ever happens in an orchestra.  As a former rock bassist, I say, long live the bass!

Part VII (The Convalescent) is pretty spirited for its title – you’d think you’d get some nice mellow hospital recovery music.  But no, the patient doesn’t get much rest.  It ends with a massive orchestra-spanning chord.  The title makes me think of Tool’s The Patient.

Part VIII (The Dance Song) has a sinister-sounding dance for the most part.  More sinister than anything all the Nietzsche-reading goth punks listen to, but not nearly as aggressive and pounding.  Eat this, KMFDM and Apoptygma Berzerk!

 

(D) Commentary

The tone poem is a versatile little form of music.  It can be long or short, one single piece or a series of connected ‘mini-poems’.  I find the crossover with other art forms particularly fascinating: Shakespeare, Kafka, folklore…  The structure of a tone poem is pretty loose, and can be made up according to the whim of the composer.  It’s a weird entity, and weird is good.

 

If tone poems and Edgar Varese are any indication, then 20^th century/modern music really blows the traditions and structures of classical music apart.  Anything goes!

 

(E) What I’ve Learned

-Strauss was a crossover artist between the Romantics and modern music… and he may or may not have been a Nazi.

-the tone poem is a one-movement orchestral piece that draws its subject matter from a non-musical source

 

Classical 22: Bach’s St. Matthew Passion

(A) Introduction

Bach’s choral works are famous.  Let’s run away, screaming like frightened schoolgirls, from the Baroque chamber music and into some religiously blissful singing.

 

(B) The Choir

A choir is a group of singers who perform together as an ensemble.  A lot of it is religious, though not always.  A choir is usually associated with a church, while a chorale or chorus is the secular version that performs in concert halls.

The earliest use of choirs by Western folks seems to be the Gregorian Chant, performed by monks as early as the 4^th century.  Many centuries later, it’s been ripped off and paired with whispery French vocals by lazy techno one-hit-wonders hocking superficial new-agey spirituality.

A lot of choral music was performed a capella, that is, on it’s own and without musical accompaniment.  However, in the Baroque period people started using backing musicians to accompany the singers.  Bach really mined this potential, as we’ll see in a moment.

(C) St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 (1727)

“The Passion” is the theological term used to describe Jesus’ suffering (physical, emotional, spiritual) in his final hours on earth.  In this work, Bach sets the Gospel of Matthew, Chapters 26-27, to music.  Matthew 26-27 details the betrayal of Judas, the last supper, Jesus’ arrest and trial and finally his crucifixion.  It doesn’t go into the resurrection; instead, it focuses on the end of Jesus’ life and his suffering.

 

The Lutherans have a tradition of setting the Passion narrative to music.  Bach was a serious Lutheran, and his St. Matthew Passion is the peak of such works.  The St. Matthew Passion is written for solo voices, a double choir and a double orchestra.  Double choir!  Double orchestras!  And don’t forget the pipe organs!  The recitativos tell the story itself, while the singing provides the commentary on the events in the story.  Jesus, Judas, Peter, and Pontius Pilate all get singing parts- solos and some duets. 

 

From what I can tell, it was performed twice in Bach’s lifetime – he was the choir director in the church in Liepzig where it was staged.  He got a lot more famous and influential after he died.

 

The San Francisco Bach Choir has a translation of the piece from the original German, so you can follow the plot.

 

No. 1 Chor mit Choral: Kommt, ihr Tochter, helft mir klagen!

Wow, nice intro.  Bach’s got both choruses working here.  It sets up the premise of the piece, and asks Jesus for forgiveness.

 

No. 6 Arie (Alt): Buss’ und Reu’

This is an aria by a female voice, with a nice flute accompaniment.  It’s very quiet and melodic.

 

No. 11 Rezitativ: Er antwortete und sprach

The guy singing Jesus’ part has a nice, rich, deep voice.

 

No. 27 Arie mit Chor: So ist mein Jesus nun gefangen!

The female singers take the stage on this piece, and their harmonizing is really good.  Then the rest of the chorus joins in near the end, and the result is very dramatic.  Nicely done, JS!

 

No. 29 Choral: O Mensch, bewein dein Sunde gross

The whole chorus is singing in this song, and it’s fantastic – especially after so many solos/duets.  You’re used to hearing single voices, and suddenly the whole group opens up and it hits you.

 

No. 35 Arie (Tenor): Geduld! Geduld!

Nice cello riffing.

 

No. 39 Arie (Alt): Erbarme dich, mein Gott

A violin accompanies the soloist, and it sounds really good.  With more instruments getting in on the action, it sounds like the plot is picking up.  Sure enough, she’s signing about how Peter disavowed knowing anything about that Jesus guy for fear of going to jail, and now regrets it bitterly.

 

No. 42 Arie (Bass): Gebt mir meinen Jesum wieder!

Great interplay between the violin and the bass voice.  The violin gets plenty of play in this song.

 

No. 52 Arie (Alt): Konnen Tranen meiner Wangen Nichts erlangen

Continuing with the gradually increasing role of the orchestra, this longer piece sounds like it has an entire string quartet playing along.

 

No. 60 Arie (Alt) mit Chor: Sehet, Jesus hat die Hand

There’s some steady woodwind melody that the female singer floats above.  The chorus keeps asking, “Who… who…”

 

No. 61 Rezitativ und Chor: Und von der sechsten Stunde an war eine Finsternis uber das ganze Land

Jesus cries out, “God, why have you forsaken me?!”  The jackasses watching him offer to fill a sponge with vinegar and put it on a stick for him to drink from.  Way to kick a guy when he’s down.  With one last cry, Jesus dies.

 

No. 63 Rezitativ und Chor: Und siehe da, der Vorhang im Tempel

A cello or bass starts chugging ominously, bringing forth the earthquake that marks the death of Jesus.  The temple rumbles, dead saints rise from their graves and fly to heaven.  This scares the crap out of the Jesus-watchers, who finally realize they executed the Son of God.  Uh oh…

 

No. 68 Chor: Wir setzen uns mit Tranen nieder

In this final song, the chorus sounds peaceful and uplifting.  It ends with the words: “In highest contentment, there my eyes close in slumber.”  The organ gets in on the final note.  It’s actually a serene way of ending what is otherwise a brutal story, no matter how nicely it’s sung.

 

(D) Commentary

I enjoy this a lot more than that pontsy chamber music.  And you don’t have to be a devout Christian to enjoy the St. Matthew Passion, though I imagine if you are it’ll resonate more with you.  This is seriously church music – I can’t imagine it being played other than in a big gothic cathedral.

 

Bach’s Passion is as far removed from Mel Gibson’s Passion as I can imagine.  This is uplifting and majestic while Sideshow Mel’s is savage, mean-spirited, mealy-mouthed torture-porn.

 

The organ is a seriously powerful instrument.  I mean, look at the size of that thing.  It‘s not a small moon, it’s a space station.  But in the recitativos, the organ player uses it to play little accents and flavours in the background, leaving the spotlight on the singer.  The organ has a lot more range and versatility than its size suggests.

 

The whole Passion is really restrained.  It’s very unlike a lot of the things I’ve listened to so far – there’s no messy crashing drama, no crazy highs or lows.  Instead, it’s very measured and deliberate, but the voices do a fantastic job of expressing emotion – which seems to be what Bach did better than anyone else.  It’s a very dignified presentation of a harrowing story.

 

(E) What I’ve Learned

-Bach was a devout Lutheran and he seems to have put his best efforts into his church music

-Choral music involves groups of singers working together on a piece, which sounds more difficult than it seems.  Not all voices are the same; while you can always tell what a violin will sound like, my voice is different from the next guy’s and the guy after next.  Even if we have the same range – say, we’re all tenors – each one of us is a different-sounding tenor.  So even if I can hit all the notes, my voice might be totally wrong for the piece.  When you’re putting a choir together, you have to take that into account along with everything else you have to plan out when planning out the performance.

 

 

Up next: a great leap forward in time – to Richard Strauss, at the turn of the 20th century!

Classical 21: Johan Sebastian Bach’s Harpsichord Concertos

(A) Introduction

I just realized that I hadn’t done anything on Bach yet!

 

It’s been a while since I listened to a good old-fashioned concerto.  Something nice and simple, without the drama of an opera.  So, I’m going to start off my Bach explorations with some concertos.

Classical 20: Rossini’s Il Turco in Italia

(A) Introduction

I searched on the Naxos Music Library for any recording featuring Myrtò Papatanasiu and I only came up with this one.  So I’m going to inflict it on you because Myrtò is my new best friend and favourite opera singer.

(B) Gioachino Antonio Rossini (1792-1868)

Rossini was another Italian opera composer.  He was born on a February 29 (leap year!) to musical parents and was exposed to music right from the start.  He was successful and prolific – he wrote 39 operas in total in a career that started in Italy and moved to Paris.  His best known operas are the Barber of Seville (which he wrote at 24 years of age) and William Tell.  His first opera was performed when he was only eighteen, and his breakthrough success was Tancredi, performed first in 1813.  He retired from composing operas when he was only 37.

Classical 19: Verdi’s La Traviata – Pt. 2

(A) Introduction

Act I is all a big party, where Violetta and Alfredo meet.  Violetta considers Alfredo’s offer, and despite her reservations, falls for him.  Good times.

 

In Act II Scene I, some time has passed – and the two lovebirds are living an idyllic life together.  But there’s trouble on the way (what, you expected a happy ending?) as papa Germont shows up.  He convinces Violetta to leave, and after much anguish, she does.  It’s a scene right out of a Latin American soap opera.

Classical 18: Verdi’s La Traviata – Pt. 1

(A) Introduction

Earlier this year I got hitched, and we went to Rome for part of our honeymoon.  Our hotel was right around the corner from the Teatro Dell’Opera di Roma – a nice old opera house reconstructed by the fascists.  Italy being the epicenter of opera, and Rome being the epicenter of Italy, I thought it would be nifty to see an opera while we were in town.  (Plus, my wife got a chance to wear her jaw-droppingly sexy red dress).  We were in luck – we got booth tickets for a proper Italian work, La Traviata.  It was sumptuous inside, and the performance was really good. 

Classical 17: Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, Pathetique

(A) Introduction

When searching for info on Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty I kept seeing references to this symphony.  Evidently it’s one of his best-known works, and seems to be considered one of his greatest.

 

This was Tchaikovsky’s last work.  In fact, he died nine days after the premiere.  Here’s where the classical music tabloids come in, though.  Officially, he died of cholera, which he contracted when he drank a glass of unboiled water at the height of a cholera epidemic in St. Petersburg.  But rumour has it he was either poisoned or committed suicide in order to cover up a homosexual affair with a member of the nobility.  In fact, the fourth movement of the symphony is seen by some people as his ‘farewell to life’ before he died.  Imagine, a Romantic composer dying in a cloud of scandal over his love life!