Richard Wagner

SO much has been said of "the music of the future" that it will doubtless interest many to learn something of the man who is its principal exponent, and who, if not the greatest of living composers, as some assert, enjoys certainly the widest notoriety of any.

RICHARD WAGNER was born at Leipsic, the 22d of May, 1813. When but six months old he had the misfortune to lose his father; and his mother, marrying again some time after, removed to Dresden, where young Richard entered upon a course of studies, in which music was included—showing, however, no special aptitude or taste for the divine art. For poetry and the drama, on the contrary, he evinced a very decided inclination, amounting, in fact, almost to a passion, the fruits of which were numerous plays and poems, admired in the circle of his friends, but never known beyond its limits. The profound impression that a first hearing of some of Beethoven's symphonies made on Wagner, seems to have awakened him to a sense of his true power, and inspired him with the idea of becoming a composer.

His early studies in harmony and counterpoint were irregular and by no means thorough, owing doubtless to that natural impatience of ambitious youth to grasp at once at a coveted whole, without mastering the disagreeable details absolutely necessary to its value as an acquisition.

At the age of nineteen he composed a symphony, which was performed at Leipsic, and met with a certain success. It was not until after the production of this work, laboriously written, that the young composer realized how much was still wanting to make him at home, so to speak, in his profession; and he then spared no effort until a thorough knowledge of fugue and counterpoint was acquired.

Contemporary in composition with the symphony were numerous pieces of minor importance—piano-forte sonatas, études, fantasias, etc.—essays of the composer with his talent, and, as such, not of sufficient consequence to deserve special mention. In 1833, or thereabouts, Wagner, then residing in Wurzburg, felt a strong desire to write for the stage, influenced, no doubt, as was all Germany at that time, by the grand dramatic conceptions of Von Weber. As the result of this influence came Wagner's first opera, entitled "Les Fées," in many points a flagrant imitation of Weber's style, and, for this reason, perhaps, never represented.

Widely differing from this was his second lyric drama, composed two years later, when he occupied the position of orchestral director atMagdeburg. This work, entitled "Le Novice de Palerme," of which the words and music are both his own, shows unmistakable evidences of the influence of Auber, whose "La Muette de Portici" had just won an almost unparalleled success, and whose melodious, flowing style, our ambitious composer studied, until it had become, as we might say, his own. But every thing seemed to conspire to render the effort unsuccessful. The resources of the theatre were meagre, the season late, the vocalists unmanageable, and "Le Novice" was "shelved" after one representation.

In the course of the following year Wagner was chosen chef d'orchestre to the theatre at Königsberg. The duties here he found much more arduous than those at Magdeburg, and, worse still, infinitely more disagreeable and antipathetical to his nature. To conduct inferior and uninteresting operas, and to twist those operas into all sorts of distorted shapes, at the pleasure of an unreasonable manager and capricious artists, was a work which he, as a composer, found positively revolting. For some months he endured this, chafing under the restraints put upon him, but acquiring, from the very repugnance that these offences created, a new strength to carry out the reforms he contemplated. The only important event occurring at Königsberg was his marriage to the prima donna of the theatre, a person of fine disposition and with great natural talent, who, in the many trials and misfortunes of the years that followed, showed herself a loving and devoted companion until her decease, in the latter part of 1865.

Some few months after his marriage, Wagner was offered a position as capelmeister at Riga, and accepted it. But here, finding only a continuance of many disagreeable duties encountered at Königsberg, and at last despairing of ever rescuing German taste from its depraved condition, he concluded to seek a field of action more favorable to the development of his peculiar ideas. He naturally turned to Paris, just then lavishing its favors on Auber, Meyerbeer, and Rossini—Paris, so liberal in its support of the fine arts, so ready to recognize and reward the true and the great. There, and there only, could success be found. Quickened by the idea, he already sees the resources of the Grand Opera placed at his disposal, with an opportunity to compose a work full of those dramatic effects that have made "Les Huguenots" and "Guillaume Tell" so acceptable to the Parisians. The subject of Rienzi, the last of the Roman tribunes, suggesting itself as favorable to the purpose, he hesitates no longer, writes a libretto for the opera, arranges his affairs, and is soon on his way to the French capital.

In the voyage from Riga to Boulogne-sur-Mer, the vessel was overtaken by a terrible storm, and narrowly escaped shipwreck. Through the fiercest of the gale Wagner remained upon deck, fascinated and awed by the wild surging of the waves, and the weird, ominous moaning of the wind through the cordage. This scene made a lasting impression on his mind; and, in the overture to the "Flying Dutchman," written some years later, he has well conveyed the idea of a tempest at sea.

Boulogne once reached, the financial condition was such as not to warrant a continuance of the journey. Wagner took lodgings at a short distance from the town, and set bravely to work, confident that Paris was soon to make amends for his many disappointments. One day, happening to meet with Meyerbeer, he showed him some pages of the "Rienzi" score, and spoke with enthusiasm of his hopes and plans for the future. Although the composer of "Les Huguenots" well knew the many disheartening rebuffs that enthusiasm must encounter, he did not discourage the young man, but gave him letters of introduction to Joly, Pillet, and Habeuck, musical directors, and to Schlesinger, editor of the Gazette Musicale.

Armed with these, Wagner hurried on to Paris, where, for a time, they secured him certain attentions and abundant offers of service; but the genuineness of these last, when put to the test, was found sadly wanting. After repeatedly suffering the disappointment of promises broken and engagements unfulfiled on the part of his newly-found friends, he awoke at length to a sense of his situation—plainly worse than ever be fore. It was a severe blow, but he had strength to meet it, and an unfailing energy to bear him up.

Suddenly through the cloud of trouble came a ray of hope. Joly, director of the Théâtre de la Renaissance, consented to produce "Rienzi." The affairs of the theatre being in an embairassed condition, a bold stroke, it was thought, might possibly set them right. Wagner, encouraged, bent to the work with spirit, but to no purpose; the theatre was bankrupt before the opera could be brought out. This was a coup-de-grâce. Misery now stared him in the face.

In those dark days Schlesinger was the one friend who remained faithful. He accepted for the Gazette Musicale several articles on musical topics, and through his efforts Wagner was commissioned to write an overture for the Société des Concerts. "Faust" was chosen as the subject of this overture, which, on rehearsal, was deemed not sufficiently interesting or meritorious to warrant its public performance. Driven to new efforts by this failure, the future composer of "Tannhauser" was, for a time, engaged in arranging for flute, cornet, and other instruments, the popular airs of the day. He also prepared piano-forte editions of at least two complete operas. But matters grew even more desperate, creditors still more importunate; and at last finding it desirable to effect a change of base, he decided to locate at Meudon, a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of the great city.

It is well known that Wagner regards the piano as the most despicable of all instruments; he hates its very presence, its most dulcet tones have no power to soothe his savage breast. Meudon, he thought, would surely be free from the tormentor, and for that reason, if for no other, desirable as a place of residence.

Hardly was he settled in the new lodgings when—horror of horrors!—from some deep recess of the house came sounds resembling those of a superannuated piano, but a thousand times more aggravating. Wagner, furious at this unexpected infliction, rushed frantically from room to room, up-stairs and then down, down, down to the uttermost depths, some twenty feet under ground. There was his sedate landlord, the person whom he least suspected, seated before the offending instrument, and enraptured, apparently, with its marvellous power. And such an instrument—harp, piano, and organ, combined— [662] forming stupendous whole, capable of most unearthly sounds. The place, the man, the instruments, were too much for our composer, who burst into a hearty laugh, which brought the performance to a sudden close.

Peace was restored by the immediate removal of the nondescript, and Wagner, suffering no further interruption, worked on in the composition of a new opera, "Der Fliegende Holländer," determined to return to Germany if Dresden should decide in favor of" Rienzi," which had been sent there for consideration. Meanwhile, matters went from worse to worse, and, when the new opera was completed, the composer was actually without money to buy paper upon which to write the overture. Fortunately, at this crisis came a letter from Dresden, announcing the acceptance of "Rienzi," and requiring the composer's immediate presence. But the necessary means for the journey were wanting. In a frenzy of haste Wagner again composes and transcribes all sorts of airs for all sorts of instruments, until a sum sufficient for the immediate purpose is acquired. Dresden once reached, "Rienzi" is carefully prepared and enthusiastically received.

This success was soon followed by Wagner's appointment as orchestral director at the Dresden Opera-House, and as capelmeister to the king. This last honor had been conferred on no one since the death of Morlacchi, Weber's successor.

At Dresden Wagner found a fine theatre, excellent orchestra, and an intelligent and refined public. Here he remained until 1848, producing, in 1843, "Der Fliegende Holländer," and, two years later, "Tannhauser," which then received only two representations, owing probably to the fact that, in this opera, the composer first abandoned the accepted forms and style of operatic composition, to give place to his own peculiar ideas, since more fully developed and more strikingly presented.

Led by his republican sympathies to participate in the Revolution of 1848, Wagner, at the end of its short career, was forced to fly the country, and chose Zurich as a place of residence. While there, he published his most important literary work, entitled "Opera and Drama," the leading idea of which is shown in the following extract from its preface:

"I claim," he says, "herein to prove the possibility and necessity of a system of artistic creation in music and poetry (considered together) superior to that universally adopted at the present time."

This book severely criticises the works of Meyerbeer, who is accused of neglecting the true interests of art to satisfy his desire for popularity—an accusation that raised up against Wagner a host of enemies, and which he afterward deeply regretted.

Shortly before the appearance of this volume, he published two brochures, "Art and Revolution," and "The Artistic Mission of the Future," both of which excited much comment in literary and musical circles from their clear and forcible language, and from the boldness and originality of thought they displayed.

Wagner's fourth grand opera, "Lohengrin," was, through the efforts of the pianist Liszt, produced in Weimar, in 1850, with considerable success, and is now regarded by many as the composer's most pleasing work. In 1855 we find him in London, directing the concerts of the Philharmonic Society; and, by endeavoring to change some of their long-established customs and accepted interpretations of standard works, creating much illfeeling and a strong party of opposition to his innovations. While there, he gave exhibitions of wonderful powers of memory, frequently conducting the symphonies of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, without a score.

Determined, at any cost, to introduce his music to the Parisians, Wagner, in the autumn of 1859, returned to the French capital, and made every effort to secure a representation of "Tannhauser," but for a long time without success. At length the emperor, at the urgent solicitation of Madame de Metternich, ordered "Tannhauser" to be put in rehearsal. Every means were placed at the disposal of the composer to insure the best possible performance of the opera, and so anxious was he to obtain this result, that four months were occupied in its preparation.

The Parisians were not disposed to recognize favorably the efforts of a declared enemy to their worshipped Meyerbeer, and so it happened that "Tannhauser" was withdrawn after three representations, at the last of which opposition to the piece raged so fiercely that scarcely a note of the music was heard. Shortly after this terrible failure, Wagner, broken down in health and spirits, left Paris, craving, above all things, the repose of mind denied him in the harassing excitement of the previous six months.

After some time spent in travel, he made efforts to produce his opera, "Tristan and Isolde," composed in 1857; but, meeting with little or no encouragement, he gave up the attempt in very disgust, and proposed returning to Zurich, intending for the future to lead a retired life. Before this purpose could be carried out, however, he was invited to Munich by the young King of Bavaria, who offered him, as an inducement, entire control of the music of the Court Theatre and every facility for the production of his operas. Here was an opportunity too good to be lost. Wagner, accepting the offer, went immediately to Munich, where he received a royal welcome, and where he has since resided principally, admired and favored by the king, who, it is said, even sacrifices the interests of state to his love of music—music of the future, that is.

"Tristan" was first performed in June, 1865, the greatest care being exercised in its preparation; but it failed to make any marked impression. Since then Wagner has written three operas—" Die Meistersänger von Nuremberg," first represented in 1868; "Das Rheingold," in 1869; and "Die Walküre," in the past year—besides this, publishing, from time to time, brochures on matters relating to his art, which have attracted more or less attention. The later operas have not been, and can never be, as successful as "Tannhauser" and "Der Fliegende Holländer," principally for the reason that each succeeding work departs more than its predecessor from accepted precedents, and just in the proportion of that departure are the elements of popularity wanting. Both of the last-named operas have been favorably received in the principal European capitals, and represent the composer's real successes.

A thorough and careful analysis of Wagner's work cannot be given within the limits of a magazine article, and we must, therefore, be content to notice briefly his leading ideas and the peculiarities of his style as influenced by those ideas.

Looking at the operas of the last generation of composers—those of Bellini, Donizetti, and Rossini, for instance—we find the libretto and the music to be two entirely distinct portions of the work, the librettist patching up some sort of a story that should offer the composer opportunities for the display of musical effects and for an average number of scenas—solos, choruses, and concerted pieces.

We see also that the music and story have often but little in common as regards characteristic color—that is, they are not appropriate to each other; and from this results a want of unity in the opera, as realized, fatal to any true dramatic expression. This is not only evident in the music rendered by the orchestra, but is still more noticeable in the vocal parts, often written with no regard to their situation, and with the sole and express design of showing off the voices to advantage.

If we compare, now, the old system with the new, it becomes plain that the latter embodies many true principles which must eventually prevail.

In the first place, Wagner holds that the composer should be his own librettist, choosing some poetic legend that he feels is capable of inspiring both the words and music. The legend he considers peculiarly well adapted for a musical setting, since it deals not with mere external incidents, but with the emotions and passions, to the expression of which music so admirably lends itself.

By the new system, the music and story should not only be conceived together, but should be so intimately connected and harmoniously blended as to be almost indispensable to each other. As Wagner insists that nothing must interrupt the smooth and natural progress of the dramatic action, he carefully avoids any approach to the old system of dividing the opera into set pieces—so many arias, choruses, etc.—these occurring only when absolutely required by the situation. Hence arises the complaint from many that he is not melodious. If we understand melody to be a limited musical phrase of marked rhythm, and one that is easily caught, then the accusation is just. But this absolute melody that exists of itself, independent of any idea or sentiment, this, according to Wagner, has no merit, and is entitled to no place in the musical drama.

In the entire opera of "Tristan" not five well-defined airs can be found. This is not so much because Wagner is wanting in melody, as that his melodic ideas, from their peculiar shape, are not always to be recognized by those listening eagerly for a "tune." Every melody, he says, is made up of many melodic phrases, each having a distinct value of its own; and these being combined with [663] the original theme, and presented in many different ways, go to make up a whole of noble proportions—the true melodic idea.

On the appearance of any principal character, or at the first manifestation of a sentiment to be developed later in the course of the drama, he gives out a motif—that is, not precisely what would be called an air, but a phrase, having some melodic significance, and the rhythm of which is well defined. Here we see the use of the true melodic idea. This motif, once clearly given, recurs at every re-appearance of the character or fresh development of the sentiment it represents, and is always presented in some new way, yet is always recognizable. And not only are all the resources of the phrase employed, but by many delicate processes of modulation, and by many niceties of harmony and instrumentation, is that phrase colored, to best adapt it to the accompanying situation.

The grand idea of all this is, that the music must at all times reflect the drama, and, as far as possible, reveal those shades of sentiment and passion which mere words fail to express.

One great reason why Wagner's music is not more generally acceptable, lies in the fact that he makes frequent use of the hardest and most dissonant chords, and treats these with the utmost freedom; that is to say, where, with other composers, these harmonies occur only at rare intervals, and their entrance is then carefully prepared, with Wagner we find them piled upon each other, regardless, apparently, of all laws of harmonic connection. In the whole introduction to "Tristan," there is not a single consonant chord; hardly one recognizable form in a chaos of strange combinations. Notwithstanding these facts, Wagner's mastery of the science of harmony is beyond question, as may be proved by a single glance at his noble choruses, often written in six and eight parts, and arranged with a cleverness that compels admiration.

Whether the world can ever accept his theory of tone-combination and chord-connection as the true one, is a matter which time alone can decide. But when we remember that many harmonies employed by Beethoven and Schumann, now accepted without a question, and even admired for their originality, were at first declared harsh and disagreeable, it seems quite possible that these Wagnerian extravagances may, at no distant day, be regarded as perfectly legitimate, if not actually pleasing.

It is, perhaps, in the vocal portion of Wagner's operas that we find the widest departures from established precedent. There it is by no means the design to show off the vocalist advantageously, but to express, in the most appropriate way, the idea to be conveyed. In order to accomplish this, Wagner makes the most extraordinary demands on the voice, which he appears to regard simply as an instrument, capable of enduring to any extent and of overcoming any difficulty whatsoever. He has, in fact, written for voices purely instrumental passages, which it is folly to suppose can ever be perfectly or decently executed by a human organ; and even were artists found ready to accept rôles rendered formidable by these difficulties, it is still a question whether such a distortion of the vocal powers can be made acceptable to civilized ears.

To Wagner are we indebted for at least one great reform—that of raising the orchestra to a place of first importance in the interpretation of the lyric drama. In the operas of Bellini, Donizetti, and even of Rossini, the orchestra seldom reflected the character of the dramatic situation, often serving simply as a support and accompaniment to the voices; not until the advent of Weber's genius did it assume any thing like its true position.

Wagner holds that the orchestra should not only share equally with the voices in the development of the drama, but that each prominent character and prevailing sentiment, besides being represented by some striking musical phrase, should have in the orchestra a tone-color appropriate and peculiar to itself. Whatever may be the merits of this theory, no one certainly is better qualified to display them than Wagner himself, for his knowledge and command of orchestral resources are unsurpassed. In the instrumentation of no other composer, save that of Beethoven, do we find such a marvellous power of expression, such wonderful effects of light and shade; and to this power principally must we attribute not only the success already won, but whatever may be reserved for him in the future. Familiarity with Wagner's productions cannot but lead to a more expressive and eloquent orchestration; and indeed, in Gounod's "Faust" and "Romeo," and in the latest operas by Italian composers, are ample evidences of the influence of the new school in this direction.

To conclude, Wagner is a composer of undoubted talent, whose ideas, although sometimes carried to extremes, will eventually have a beneficial effect on music, from their very boldness and vigor, if from nothing else. Again, he is a poet of great dramatic power, and a writer possessing literary abilities of no common order. Last, but by no means least, he is a man thoroughly in earnest; and, whatever may be his other claims to our consideration, this one, at least, should be recognized and honored.

by George B. Miles

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Johannes Brahms

He had been born in Speck Lane, Hamburg, in 1833. In this section of Old Hamburg were dark, narrow streets and tall, gabled, and crowded houses--the commonplace reality of a bare and repulsive poverty." His father, who was twenty-seven years old at Johannes' birth, had come to Hamburg penniless and uneducated to seek a musical career. He had slender professional talent, but was shrewd, upright, and diligent. He made a scanty living by playing for chance audiences in street restaurants and for sporadic engagements in dance-halls and beer gardens. His financial situation improved slowly as through twelve years' work he became a regular and reliable contra-bassist in some of the humbler orchestras of Hamburg. At Johannes' birth the mother was forty-four. She was the daughter of the landlord of one of the father's rooming houses . . . a small, plain woman, of poor health and with a bad limp. For a time she helped the family income by a tiny business in needles, cotton, and tapes. She was described by a Hamburg neighbor as "a little withered mother who busied herself unobtrusively with her own affairs, and was not known outside her dwelling."There were three children, a sister older than Johannes and a brother younger. The family moved often during Johannes' childhood, but always remained in crowded, poor, and simple apartments. Theirs was a poor but honorable home, in which perhaps the greatest asset was the great affection of the parents for the children.

Johannes' musical education began at home where as a tiny child he showed unusual aptitude. Recognizing this aptitude, his parents managed to begin formal lessons with a piano teacher, O. Cassel, when Johannes was eight. His first playing was in dance halls and taverns, late at night. By the age of ten, he had shown such genius that it was suggested that he should be taken on a tour to America to make money as a prodigy. To prevent such a fate, Cassell persuaded an eminent teacher named Marxsen to undertake the instruction. To accomplish this, Johannes' father and his musical friends arranged a benefit concert, a concert at which the ten-year old boy played with remarkable skill.

In 1853 a gypsy violinist from Hungary persuaded the young musician to accompany him on a tour through the cities of Germany. It was during this tour that Johannes made a number of friends who were to open a wider prospect and to provide counsel, inspiration, and support. These were quick to recognize his talent in both recital and composition. Among them were Joachim (Hanover), Robert and Clara Schumann (Dusseldorf), and Franz Liszt. Liszt, however, was at the time the idol and leader of a new school of music with which the young Brahms would have nothing to do. Between them developed quickly a feud which lasted many years. The Schumanns, on the other hand, began an enduring and fruitful comradeship with Brahms. In fact, Robert Schumann wrote an article hailing Brahms in the highest terms as the coming great composer, as an artist "at whose cradle graces and heroes mounted guard." Thus, at twenty, the boy from Hamburg was thrown into the center of German musical controversy and attention. This introduction to fame stirred in him both delight and dread, great embarrassment and a great sense of obligation to merit Schumann's confidence.

Brahms spent the next three years in close association with the Schumanns, who made Johannes a virtual member of the family and who introduced him to a large circle of musical friends. At the Schumann household Brahms' chamber music and his Liebeslieder found a congenial setting. The musicians played together, arranged concerts together, and composed many works under the inspiration of one another. This almost idyllic period was terminated by the sudden terrible illness of Robert Schumann. When his friend died, Brahms gave up everything in order to stand by the widow and the six children. His friendship for Clara Schumann now developed into an ardent love, which became the source of great inner turmoil until they both recognized the impossibility of marriage.

Johannes remained unmarried, primarily because of his artistic career. He often wished for marriage, but did not feel he could offer a wife the security she deserved. In a period when his music was often received with icy coldness or violent hissing, he did not wish to subject a woman to this animosity. Later on when admiring females would ask him if he were married, he would reply, "It is my misfortune still to be unmarried, thank God!"

...it is difficult to get a clear profile of Brahms' own inner convictions. This is due in part to his "deep-rooted dislike for all display of solemnity" and a great reticence in betraying his deepest feelings. It is also due to the fact that most of his biographers have been primarily concerned with his musical career rather than with his faith. We know that his mother was extremely solicitous of his moral training as a child and that she instilled a basic religious orientation toward life. We find evidence to establish the fact of constant and informed use of the Bible. This use began in primary school, where all the children-Jews, Catholics, and Protestants-listened to daily readings. There is no record that Brahms ever held a church post as organist or choir director. He was staunchly Protestant, aware of current philosophical and theological issues, but not attracted by dogmatic or creedal narrowness. He was more closely akin to the liberal than to the orthodox Lutheranism of the nineteenth century. When on his trips to Italy he entered a cathedral, he was careful not to wound the sensibilities of those around him. If "the worshipers turned to look at the newcomer, he would never omit to feign to dip his finger in the benitier and lightly make the sign of the Cross, in order not to scandalize the believers by the intrusion of a heretic."

We may perhaps best sense the temper of Brahms' faith by the whole body of his religious music. Schumann had said of listening to his music: "We stand in the wonderful view of the spiritual world." The best clue to his personal faith is provided by the texts which he adopted for the music.

excerpt from "Brahms' German Requiem" written by Paul Minear

Erik Satie Biography

Erik Alfred Leslie Satie (May 17, 1866 - July 1, 1925) was a French composer.
Born in Honfleur, Basse-Normandie, France, Satie was a music composer, and a performing pianist, though mainly for café and cabaret audiences. Satie wrote theatre and ballet music, as well as piano music. His compositions are original, humorous, often bizarre, and very minimalistic. His music is sometimes called furniture music, supposed to be in the background of everyday life [musique d'ameublement]. It is evidently anti-romantic and also anti-impressionistic. Satie eventually became a leading figure of the French avant-garde.

Today he is regarded as one of the important forebears of minimalism, and John Cage cited him as a major influence (Cage organized and performed in the premiere performance of Satie's 28 hour long Vexations). His work is also considered a forerunner of ambient music, and dadaism as in his ballet Relâche.

He did not begin to be taken seriously as a composer by his contemporaries until he was in his forties. In 1917 the first performance in Paris of the ballet Parade (the orchestration of which included parts for typewriter, foghorn and rattle) caused a scandal, which established his name as a composer. Satie wrote this ballet together with Jean Cocteau and Pablo Picasso for the Russian impresario Serge Diaghilev, leader of the Ballets Russes.

His other works include:

Trois Gymnopédies (1888), piano
Messe des Pauvres (1895)
Trois morceaux en forme de poire (1901), piano four hands
Descriptions Automatiques (1913), piano
Sonatine Bureaucratique (1917), piano
Socrate (1918), symphonic drama
Relâche (1924), ballet
Recordings of his complete works have recently been published on Swedish Society Discofil, performed by Olof Hojer.

Satie gave his piano pieces names like (translated to english) Unpleasant Glimpses, Genuine Flabby Preludes (for a dog), or Old Sequins and Old Breastplates. He accompanied the scores of these pieces with all kinds of written remarks, through which he insisted that these should not be read out during performance.

Satie was known as an eccentric, and amongst other things he started his own church, Metropolitan Church of Art of Jesus, Leader (with himself as the only member). Every day of his working life Satie left his apartment in the Parisian suburb of Arcueil to walk across the whole of Paris to either Montmartre or Montparnasse before walking back again in the evening.

A penniless bohemian, Satie wore a top hat, a flowing lavaliere, and a pince-nez. His room at 6 rue Cortot was next door to artist Suzanne Valadon. They began an affair in January 1893, and Satie proposed marriage that same night. The only relationship of his life, he became obsessed with the beautiful artist, whom he called his "Biqui", writing impassioned notes about "her whole being, lovely eyes, gentle hands, and tiny feet." Valadon painted Satie's portrait and gave it to him but after six months, the beautiful Suzanne moved on, leaving Satie brokenhearted. After his death, her portrait of him (shown here) was found in his room at Arcueil.

Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel were among Satie's friends. Although not hailed by the masses, he was admired by many young composers and musicians and was a big influence on Debussy in particular.

Satie was the center of Les Six, a group of six French composers (Georges Auric, Louis Durey, Arthur Honegger, Germaine Tailleferre, Darius Milhaud and Francis Poulenc). The group advocated clear musical language, and opposed impressionism (for example Debussy and Ravel), slavism (Stravinsky) and post-Wagnerism (Schoenberg) in music.

Satie died in Arcueil, Val-de-Marne, Île-de-France, and was interred there in the Cimetiere d'Arcueil.


article source biographybase.com

The Life & Music of George Gershwin


Even though George Gershwin's life was sadly cut short by a brain tumor when he was only 38 years old, his music still lives on in the hearts and minds of the world today. Some of his most famous works included "Rhapsody in Blue" and "They Can't Take That Away From Me." His storied career includes many other notable highlights and achievements over the course of his brief life.

George Gershwin was born in Brooklyn, New York to Ukrainian Jewish immigrants on September 26, 1898. He was named Jacob Gershowitz at birth. The family name was later Americanized by George to facilitate his show business career. Many of his other family members followed suit and changed their names accordingly. Gershwin had three siblings in his family.

George Gershwin revealed his talent for music at an early age. At the tender age of 10, Gershwin attended his friend Max Rosen's violin recital. He was absolutely fascinated by the passion behind the performance. He loved the sound of the instrument and the skilled nuance with which Rosen performed.

The Gershwin parents had bought a piano for George's older brother, Ira. George came home from the violin recital and was determined to learn to play an instrument, so he began tinkering around with Ira's piano at home. He learned the instrument quickly, so his parents were happy to help him find a suitable professional for a piano teacher.

The search for a piano teacher for young George Gershwin took nearly two years. He finally settled on Charles Hambitzer, who influenced Gershwin's musical life immensely. He taught Gershwin formal techniques and formal European music. Gershwin would attend classical music performances with Hambitzer, and he was often able to reproduce the melodies on the piano when he would return home. Hambitzer acted as Gershwin's mentor until the time of his death in 1918.

At 15, Gershwin dropped out of school to become a song plugger for Jerome H. Remick and Company, a firm from New York City's famed Tin Pan Alley. The position earned him $15 a week, but more importantly, it positioned him well in the music industry.

By 1916, Gershwin published his first song, entitled, "When You Want 'Em, You Can't Get 'Em, When You've Got 'Em, You Don't Want Em." He was 17 years old.

He followed up his release in 1916 with a 1917 release of "Rialto Ripples," which was a commercial success. In 1918, he released "Swanee." In 1924, Gershwin began his foray into musicals, a pursuit that would make him forever famous. He penned "Lady Be Good" and "Fascinating Rhythm" that year.

Follow-up musicals in subsequent years included "Oh Kay," "Funny Face," "Strike Up the Band," "Show Girl," "Girl Crazy," "I Got Rhythm," "Porgy and Bess" and "Of Thee I Sing." The latter of the group won the esteemed Pulitzer Prize.

Gershwin's success on Broadway eventually led to calls from Hollywood movie studios. He moved out to California to do some film work. While out in Hollywood, he began complaining of headaches in early 1937. Sadly, during his work on a film entitled "The Goldwyn Follies," George Gershwin collapsed due to a malignant brain tumor. He later died following a surgery to remove the tumor on July 11, 1937.

Although his life was tragically cut short, George Gershwin's legacy will always live on through his music. From timeless hits to musicals, his melodies still resonate in popular culture. His influence will be felt for decades to come.

by Duane Shinn

The Amazing Mr. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

by Duane Shinn

Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born on January 27, 1756 in Salzburg, Austria, which was then part of the Holy Roman Empire. His father and mother were Leopold and Anna Maria Pertl Mozart. He had one sister, Maria Anna Mozart, who was born in 1751.

Mozart's father was a minor composer with an interest in music. When his older sister was seven and Wolfgang was three, their father began giving Maria Anna piano lessons as Wolfgang watched with great interest. He had a natural talent for picking out chords, and by age five Wolfgang was composing small pieces on the clavier. His father wrote the pieces down, and they eventually were popularized under names like the Andante and the Allegro in C.

As evidence of Wolfgang's genius became apparent, his parents decided to put him on tour across Europe and showcase him as the child prodigy he was. They traveled to cities like Vienna, Munich, Prague, Paris, Mannheim, London, The Hague, Zurich and Donaueschingen. During his travels, Wolfgang met many influential musicians, including Johann Christian Bach. However, travel was difficult and the family was often wrought with illness.

In 1769 the family set out for Italy. The journey took them until 1771. When they arrived at the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican, Mozart witnessed a performance of Miserere by Gregorio Allegri. He then was able to write down the entire piece from memory, much to the amazement of the music community. Transcribing the music was technically illegal according the Vatican, but the event remains legendary to this day.

In Milan in 1770, Mozart composed and successfully performed the opera Mitridate, re di Ponto, which led to two future operatic commissions for Ascanio in Alba and Lucio Silla. Mozart traveled back and forth between Salzburg and Milan to complete these pieces in the years that followed.

When he returned to Salzburg in 1773, he was appointed as royal musician to the court by the ruler of Salzburg, Prince-Archbishop Hieronymus Colleredo. His popularity increased tremendously, but so did his yearning for bigger and better successes.

After years searching for a new job in Paris and Mannheim, Mozart eventually was sent to Vienna by his employer. His salary was cut, and he attempted to resign, but the request was denied. He was eventually fired with dishonor in 1781, and he set out to make a freelance career for himself.

His career blossomed in Vienna, and in 1782 he married a woman named Constanze with whom he had six children. At this time, composer Joseph Hayden and Mozart became good friends. He finally obtained an aristocratic commission in 1787 when Emperor Joseph II appointed him as chamber composer. In the same year, Mozart's famous opera Don Giovanni opened in Prague to much critical acclaim.

In the last few years of his life, Mozart produced many noteworthy compositions, like The Magic Flute and his famous unfinished Requiem. He fell ill in 1791 while in Prague for the premiere of his opera La clemenza di Tito in September. By November of that year, Mozart was bedridden because of his illness. He was tended to by Constanze and his family doctor until his death on December 5.

It is impossible for modern medicine to pinpoint the exact cause of his death, but the old medical practice of bloodletting is believed to be a contributing factor. He was buried in a common grave, as was the practice of the time in Vienna. While illness may have stopped the progress of his musical career, the genius of Mozart's compositions lives on through the ages.