Thursday, February 24, 2011

Sullivan and Elgar - Connections?

It is interesting, for me, to see that the big discussion on Elgar's qualities as a composer were questioned during his time by comparing him to predecessors such as Parry.  Not once is Sullivan mentioned as a worthy predecessor, which of course has me a bit irked.  So, I looked for possible writings out there connecting the two.  I didn't find much, but one thing I did find proved a little interesting, more for where it lead than for the brief discussion given of Elgar and Sullivan.

In December of 1988, Nigel Burton, a musicologist noted for his writings on the music of Sullivan, contributed an article to The Musical Times entitled 'The Yeomen of the Guard': apogee of a style.  This article discusses Sullivan's music through a focus on Yeomen (personally my favorite of the Savoy Operas).  Points are made about his music that are very fascinating, and certainly something I will go into in more detail on my own (perhaps to be shared here, as well), but for the sake of this week's topic, I focus on a brief discussion found near the end of the article.  Burton writes refers to Edgar as Sullivan's "greater successor".  There is no doubt that by and large Elgar is considered the next great British composer, and it can be argued that his music surpassed Sullivan's music of a similar nature.  However, Burton states that Elgar's "debt to Sullivan is still underestimated" and even provides a direct example in which he feels Sullivan is anticipating Elgar: apparently Sullivan's 'Imperial Institute Ode' at one point "seems to anticipate Elgar's motif for Henry V in Falstaff."  Not being familiar with Elgar's Falstaff, I cannot confirm or deny this assessment; however, it is interesting to see the noted similarity.

By looking further in Nigel Burton's background, I discovered that he is a Vice President with the Sir Arthur Sullivan Society, the very group that produced the Grammy-nominated recording of Ivanhoe that I blogged about previously.  This society was under the presidency of the late Sir Charles Mackerras, the noted Mozart and G&S conductor and authority.  Other notable officers of the Society include Vice President Dr. David Russell Hume, who is a regular contributor to Savoynet; Vice President Dr. Ian Bradley, who is possibly the most-published authority on G&S; Secretary Stephen Turnbull, another regular Savoynetter; and Librarian and Archivist Robin Gordon-Powell, the noted conductor and the man who arranged the full-score for multiple Sullivan works, including the Grammy-nominated version of Ivanhoe (also a regular Savoynet contributor).  This Society will be a major resource for my Fulbright, should I get it.

Elgar: A Disappointed Peer-Wannabee

An interesting element in the readings about Elgar this week, for me, was his societal ambition.  Elgar seemed to care very much about his station in life, working hard to improve his lot in a society that discouraged vertical mobility among the classes.  He was honored greatly throughout his life, including being knighted in 1904 and made a Baronet in 1931, but he never achieved one of his great ambitions:  A hereditary peerage.  Now, I know a little about the peerage system from things like Iolanthe and my role as the title character in Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 1, but not enough to understand what Elgar was missing.  This lead me to look into the British peerage system, and I'd like to share what I found here.

Apparently there are 5 degrees of peers within the peerage system in the UK.  The highest title is "Duke".  This is followed, in descending order, by Marchess, Earl, Viscount, and Baron.  This was where my first confusion with Elgar came up, as he was made a Baronet, which is a hereditary title just like these peerages.  However, it seems that Baronets are commoners, not peers.  Their title is similar to a knighthood, but ranks above all but the two most prestigious orders of knights (the Most Noble Order of the Garter in England and Wales, and the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle in Scotland).  So, it was indeed a 'promotion', societally speaking, for Elgar when he was made a Baronet after being a knight, but it was not the peerage he sought.

I began reading more about the peerage system on Wikipedia and found it very interesting.  For example, the Monarch of the UK is not technically able to hold a peerage, yet there is an honorary Dukedom associated with the throne (the Dukedom of Lancaster).  This ties directly into Henry IV, whose family held the Dukedom of Lancaster prior to his ascent to the throne.  In fact, one of his younger sons, Prince John, was of Lancaster.  It provided a wonderful personal connection for me into this topic, which was so near and dear to Elgar.

Friday, February 18, 2011

The Lost Chord

As one will of course expect, the reading of the two for the end of this past week that most caught my attention was "The Lost Chord."  This reference to the wonderful Sullivan song was quite apt for the article Temperley presented.  However, I will focus on the actual work itself.

"The Lost Chord" was a song composed by Sir Arthur Sullivan in 1877, and was an emotionally charged work.  Composed at the bedside of his brother Fred (it would be his deathbed), the song became an instant hit.  A brief word on Fred Sullivan:  he was apparently a very talented performer.  He was in the original production of Thespis, the very first collaboration of Gilbert and Sullivan, and was the original Learned Judge in their second collaboration, Trial by Jury.  Fred was apparently supposed to be the title character in The Sorcerer, which opened in November of 1877.  However, poor Fred died on January 18, just five days after the date on the manuscript to "The Lost Chord".  Which brings us back to the song.

"The Lost Chord" is a setting of lyrics by Adelaide A. Proctor, and tells of the power of music.  The lyrics are:

"Seated one day at the organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys;
I know not what I was playing
Or what I was dreaming then,
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen,
Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fever'd spirit,
With a touch of infinite calm,

It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife,
It seem'd the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It link'd all perplexed meanings,
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence,
As if it were loth to cease;

I have sought but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ,
And enter'd into mine.

It may be that Death's bright Angel,
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in Heav'n,
I shall hear that grand Amen.
It may be that Death's bright Angel,
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in Heav'n,
I shall hear that grand Amen."

One can see the appeal of this work to a man in Sullivan's position, watching his brother fade before his eyes.  The beauty of the song can be heard in this 1888 (yes, the year is right) recording, making it one of the first musical recordings of all time (it is just the tune, but still...it's 1888!!):


 and the full song in these various recordings from youtube:


   *I must admit, his English is actually much better than I expected!!! (MUCH better than Pavarotti's was)



I hope you all enjoy!!


Opera House Boxes: A proud (and traditionally noisy) establishment

So, here we are talking about traditions in the opera house.  In the accounts given in Solie's chapter pertaining to this proud establishment, we learn that some of the traditions within the boxes of the opera house had not changed in the several hundred years between the first professional opera houses opening in Italy and the houses of the Victorian age.  Such traditions include the purpose of the box (as much to be seen as to see the show) and the fact that operas were not, as they are today, a rigidly scheduled evening out.  People still would arrive throughout the evening, making dinner plans perhaps at a nearby restaurant.  This was particularly common in an evening when multiple works were being presented.  A wonderful example is when one looks at the opening night of Gilbert and Sullivan's Trial by Jury, which was presented as the third show of an evening that featured as the main entertainment La PĂ©richole by Offenbach.  In tradition for the times, the program of the evening had the starting times listed for each of the three works.  This was in order for the audience members to choose which portions of the evening they wished to attend.  Some would arrive in time for the main work, ignoring the opener.  Others might not be particularly interested in the Offenbach work and may come for the opener, make dinner reservations during La PĂ©richole, and then return in time for the curtain of Trial by Jury.  Such was the normal etiquette for the Victorian house.

There is also discussion in the Solie article about how discussions, especially among the men in the opera boxes, would revolve around things far removed from the show they are 'watching.'  Men may discuss their business (especially the nouveau riche, who made their fortunes industrially).  This is similary connected to the etiquette of the old opera houses, where one might have people playing card games or otherwise gambling, or buying wares from vendors, during the show.  This tradition gave rise to the "aria di sorbett", or an aria by a lesser character.  This was literally the time where audience members might buy ice cream.  Not dissimilar to the vendors found at modern sporting events, which of course ties into the fact that, by the end of the chapter, the sporting events of the time were beginning to become as socially important, or more so, than the opera houses.

Grammy Awards Countdown: A Victorian Connection

As we passed the 2011 Grammy Awards, there is an important connection to the Victorian era.  Sir Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame) wrote one grand opera in his life.  This opera, Ivanhoe, has seen its share of performances, but has remained in relative obscurity to the opera world at large.  That being said, an important new recording was produced, sponsored by the Sir Arthur Sullivan Society in the UK.  Published on the Chandros label, and with the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, top-level soloists and the choruses sung by the Adrian Partington Singers, this Ivanhoe recording, I hear, is considered the premiere recording of the work.  Apparently, those that are truly in the know have agreed with this assessment, as this recording was nominated for the Grammy Award in the "Best Opera Recording" category.  Although up against stiff competition, even being nominated has been huge in the realm of G&S enthusiasts, and more generally Victorian music enthusiasts.

As the Awards have passed, I can say that the recording did NOT win.  However, it still was a wonderful exposure for a lesser known opera written during the Victorian era.  Not much in the way of grand opera came out of England (as we have read, there was a strong love still for everything Italian and German in nature, but not much made in the native tongue) during this time.  Ivanhoe showed that there was indeed the ability to write quality opera among the composers of the UK.  Of course, British opera would truly reach its pinnacle under Benjamin Britten in the following century.  Sullivan, however, was given the opportunity to spread his compositional wings a bit and expand beyond his previous theatrical writing, which of course focused around the comic opera / operetta genre.

It is certainly a testament to the passion of the Sir Arthur Sullivan Society, that they went through the effort to put this project together.  The full score used was put together by conductor Robin Gordon-Powell, who has recently finished putting together a score for another lesser-known work, The Beauty Stone.  Word is that that work will be the next project recorded by the Society on the Chandros label.  Hopefully, it will meet with similar success.

'Girling' at the piano...a guy's reactions

In the chapter entitled " 'Girling' at the Parlor Piano", Solie covers an interesting and powerful aspect of life for the young women of the Victorian era.  The discussion revolves around the piano specifically, and music in general, in the development of a girl into a marriage-ready young woman.  It is explained that  young woman would be expected to learn the piano from a young age, and that this skill was considered a basic requirement of women ready to be married.  The skill was not so much expected for the quality of the performer created, but more for the ability to entertain her family, and when she had daughters, to help guide their own development.  In this was, the cycle was perpetuated.

From our own 21st Century perspective, this seems a rather ridiculous expectation and requirement.  Today, marriageability is determined by all manner of criterion that have to do with a person's quality and individuality, rather than adhering to a pre-determined pattern.


However, Solie shows the various other impacts that occurred from this 'girling' expectation.  Some girls took to the piano playing readily, such as future nurse Florence Nightingale.  It was fascinating to read how eager she was, and how much she enjoyed that part of her upbringing.  In contrast, you had some girls that would rather be doing anything other than playing.  This is where, as a musician, I most strongly disagree with the forcing of the instrument upon the girls.  Music is only meaningful, in my opinion, when it is accepted into your life willingly.  The last thing I would like to see is a person turned off to music because it was forced upon them.

While I can certainly appreciate the idea behind such measures in the much-stricter Victorian society, I am also quite happy that we have moved beyond this.  Society benefits most from the diversity found in individuality; by allowing that to be found, we improve the prospect for a better tomorrow.  Today, we find much more allowance for individuality; the best thing we can do for future generations is to encourage the continuity, and even expansion, of this acceptance.

Monday, February 7, 2011

An introduction to SavoyNet: The world's online Gilbert and Sullivan Community

As Gilbert and Sullivan play a prominent role in any discussion of Victorian music (indeed, we have an entire unit on them centered around Princess Ida), I feel it is important to use an early blog post to introduce everyone to SavoyNet, the very knowledgeable online Gilbert and Sullivan Society.  Anyone interested in joining the group after reading this, please let me know.  It is free to join, and there are some certifiable experts on the G&S shows specifically, and that entire era more generally, who contribute regularly.

SavoyNet is run primarily as an email forum.  The members are all part of a massive Listserv (I believe there are over 700 members world-wide) and threads are created covering myriad topics within the topsy-turvey realm of Gilbert and Sullivan.  Some interesting topics recently covered in threads include a discussion pertaining to the Savoy Theater, both in its original form and its current; a discussion about the views Stephen Sondheim holds about the G&S shows; and one of my personal favorites, a very diverse discourse on an incident that occurred in a production of The Mikado in Montana.  Missoula Children's Theater put on a production of The Mikado in which they observed a common tradition:  in Ko-Ko's 'Little List' song, they inserted current political figures into the intentionally obscure final verse.  I have seen productions that have targeted G.W. Bush, the Governator, and others.  In this particular version, the song included Sarah Palin in a list of those who "never would be missed" should the town's Lord High Executioner be forced to act professionally (anyone who would like a further explanation of this, please ask).  However a letter was written (I am not clear whether to the company itself or published as an editorial in a local paper) that called for an apology at this terrible insult.  Apparently, it was considered highly offensive by this individual that it be suggested that Sarah Palin could be decapitated and that no one would miss her.  The discussion has been very heated on SavoyNet, mostly concerning the fact that this is TRADITION and that Palin is not being singled out for any other reason than that she is an easily recognizable personage.  In the past, it was common to find references to Nixon, or Winston Churchill.  Gilbert intentionally wrote that verse in a vague manner so that references appropriate to the day could be insinuated.  Such political satire was a trait of his writing (and many others of the Victorian era).

Such discussions are common on SavoyNet, and it is very helpful to have many of the world's experts just a listserv message away.  Again, if anyone is interested in joining, please let me know.

Assumed Familiarity

So, with travelling home this past weekend, I completely failed to upload this before my crazy Monday started, so here are my missing blogs.  Number 1:  Assumed Familiarity.  This is a response to the Solie reading from last Thursday's class, in which it was discussed that there was a certain degree of musical savvy-ness taken for granted among the readers of MacMillan's journal.  This idea pertained not only to the musical articles written in the publication, but also to other subjects, and even genres of literature.  For instance, it was discussed that fiction writers would use familiar scenes from operas to set particular moments in their writing.  Similarly, certain musical styles were indicative of character traits (of the examples given in the reading, my personal favorite was "a rigid and unsympathetic woman is revealed as a 'most correct' pianist") by novelists.  I find this an interesting cultural trait, and it lead me to consider what would be equivalent in today's society?

In the U.S., an assumption on the public's opinion of certain reality TV shows / personalities, popular music acts, and other mass media-enhanced public spectacles could be considered reasonable.  How many references lately have been made about Snooki, American Idol, or the Super Bowl?  There is a reasonable degree to which such iconic aspects of the popular culture can be assumed as familiar.

Would that such familiarity still existed with the higher arts.  It would be lovely to be able to reference a particularly humorous moment of Il barbiere (other than Figaro's "Largo al factotum") in a general public setting and get an appreciative chuckle, instead of a look as if we suddenly sprouted another appendage.  Or, to tie this into the Victorian era specifically, how exciting would it be to say something is "often" done and have a room full of the general public respond with questions of whether you mean "often" frequently" or "orphan" a person who's lost their parents (I would love to know how many of you readers get that reference ;-) ).

Well, that is my two bits about the topic.  To conclude, it seems that we can draw current parallels to such assumed familiarity with an artistic topic, but the specifics of those topics sadly differ to a great degree.