Tabloid Tuesday: Franz Schubert

As one of the first major figures of Romantic era music, I want to discuss Franz Schubert as a markedly Romantic artistic figure.

Some of the characteristics he shared with Romanticism include his short life, and his death from illness. Ah the Romantic era, when the best artists died young and everyone had consumption.

I’m going to go a little off-track here, and talk about the artistic counterpart of music: poetry.

Poetry and music have long shared an important relationship. The reciprocal nature of the two art forms throughout history bring light to one another, and together they reveal societal attitudes and beliefs of a given era. And this is my justification for taking you down the road of the Romantic poets. Bear with me.

In the literary world, there is a generally recognized big six of the Romantic canon in England: William Blake, William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, John Keats, Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron (the namesake of my gorgeous new puppy). The first three compose the first generation Romantics, and the last three the second generation. What’s interesting about the second generation is that none of the three of them lived to see 30.

Shelley died in a boating accident (though there is much discussion and conspiracy theory around the “accidental” nature of his death) less than a month before his 30^th birthday. Byron died from illness while fighting in the civil war in Greece at 25. And young Keats died of tuberculosis at 25 in Rome. Actually, the entire second generation of Romantic poets was survived by the entire first generation, who all lived to ripe old ages, and much like a peach, some of them (ahem, Wordsworth) softened with their ripeness.

Alright, I need to put this Schubert thing on hold for a second, and you need to hear THE BEST story about Lord Byron. He was a little out there to say the least. He had a pet Newfoundland dog named Boatswain whom he adored and who was the subject of one of Byron's most well-known poems, Epitaph to a Dog. When he went to Cambridge University he was prohibited from keeping his dog with him in his chambers. So what did Byron do? He brought a bear to campus to live in his room with him. Yes, an actual bear. He even suggested that he would apply for a college fellowship for the animal, and was often seen walking his tame bear around town.

Anyway!

Like these young poets, Schubert also died young and of illness, though he did live past 30 (just to 31 though). It was believed for a long time that he died of typhoid. But now it is almost conclusively recognized that he suffered from syphilis.

Evidence for this claim includes the symptoms of mercury poisoning. Mercury was often used to treat syphilis, though clearly it was not a very effective treatment for Schubert.

Like Lord Byron, this composer found that the medical treatments of the day were of no help to his cause. When Byron was sick and suffering in Greece, he was prescribed bloodletting. This actually weakened him and helped the disease progress further and faster.

But while Schubert was alive, he created some wonderful masterpieces. He wrote around 600 lieder (or art songs) and nine symphonies, some operas, a large body of chamber and solo piano music just to name some of his accomplishments.

Much like Keats, Schubert wasted no time while he was alive. Both artists created a massive and well-developed mature body of work, considering how young they both were when they died.

You can hear Schubert’s Symphony No. 8, or as it is more commonly known, the mysterious and beautiful “Unfinished Symphony,” performed by the Kingston Symphony this season on October 27^th at St. George’s Cathedral in Cathedral Architecture.

Tabloid Tuesday: Gustav Mahler

Today I am going to tell you all about Gustav Mahler, the passionate and dramatic composer of the nineteenth century.

One of the many things Mahler is known for is his passion. These characteristics are evident in his music; he is famous for his big crashes, and loud brass sections. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I've met a single brass player who doesn't just adore playing Mahler, because they are encouraged to get as loud as possible.

This passion, however, led to some melodrama in the composer’s life and the loss of some postings he had over the years. On a few occasions, he resigned from positions in a fit of rage – luckily not all of these resignations were accepted. Another time because of “artistic differences” he was fired.

As much as his extreme emotions led to a lot of rage, he was also a passionate lover. He once fell in love with a singer and consequentially wrote his first masterpiece, inspired by his love for her.

Next he fell in love with Carl von Wagner’s wife while he was working alongside Wagner conducting some of his operas. Because of his love for his colleague’s wife he had a fierce creative period about this time.

But he didn’t always fall for unattainable women. In spring 1902, Mahler married young Alma Schindler, who was an intellectual young woman studying composition. However, because Mahler demanded their relationship work around his schedule, and that she give up composing, there were obviously issues in the marriage.

Many people take the option of marriage counseling when there are difficulties at home. Mahler also went this route. But instead of talking to any old councilor, he went to the father of psychoanalysis: Sigmund Freud. Yeah, because apparently that was a thing you could just do. The doctor himself was impressed with Mahler’s deep understanding of psychoanalytic theory, and helped Mahler rediscover his love for Alma.

I want to add an aside here about Freud and psychoanalysis: Though many people think of Freud as an old crackpot who was misogynistic (the misogyny bit is unfortunately true) and kind of insane, he actually had some really important ideas. He initiated the discourse of modern psychology, and without his radical and fundamental ideas, we would not be where we are today.

On a somewhat related note, it’s fascinating to me that Mahler was so tied up with important thinkers of his time. Mahler was a scholar of philosophy and a great reader of Nietzsche’s early work, which is ironic, because Mahler’s pieces themselves are philosophically light-years away from nihilism!

Whew, now that I have that off my chest, let’s carry on, shall we?

Mahler’s passion for music led him to do some pretty extraordinary things. Upon realizing that he would not be able to get a posting in Vienna because of his Jewish heritage, he accepted baptism as a Catholic in 1897, and was appointed Kapellmeister at Vienna after a few months.

However, even though he had converted to Catholicism, there were still intolerant people in Vienna. There was an anti-Mahler campaign launched which came to a head in 1907, at which time Mahler agreed to give his resignation.

He eventually died of a bacterial infection after various other medical difficulties in Vienna on May 12, 1911.

There aren’t too many gossipy things about Mahler that I came across in my searches, however, there are some fun little rumours of which I doubt the veracity, but perhaps speak to the kind of man he was anyway.

I was told that he used to walk around in different cadences, and then use one of those odd walking patterns for the rhythm for whichever piece he was working on.

I also read that he was once composing in the countryside at the foot of the Alps, and demanded absolute silence. So he had all of the surrounding farmers lock up their animals so that he could write in peace.

You can hear music composed by Mahler performed by the Kingston Symphony on February 2^nd, 2014 in Mahler, Ravel & Dvorak.

Tabloid Tuesday: Tchaikovsky

It’s that day again! This week is Tchaikovsky’s Tabloid Tuesday. I’m extra excited about this week for three reasons: 1. Tchaikovsky is one of my favourite composers; 2. He had a radical and fascinating life; and 3. I love alliteration!

As many people know, it is widely recognized that Tchaikovsky was homosexual. As a public figure in the nineteenth century, this makes his story especially fascinating and dramatic.

Of course his sexual orientation didn’t keep Tchaikovsky from attempting to fit in with the rest of his heteronormative society. But after failing to marry singer Desiree Artot when she suddenly married a Spanish baritone in 1869, it might have seemed a good time to stop trying to be something he wasn’t, but society demanded he be.

Yet Tchaikovsky was not completely deterred from the idea of a heterosexual marriage. In 1877, a woman named Antonina Milyukova wrote to him, and in subsequent letters threatened to kill herself if he would not meet her. A week after their meeting, Tchaikovsky proposed to her on the terms that there could be no physical component to their relationship.

Disclaimer: this method of flirtation is not always as effective as it was for Antonina; use at your own discretion.

As soon as they were engaged then married, Tchaikovsky promptly ran off to compose a few more masterpieces elsewhere – far away from his new wife. That September, Tchaikovsky was forced to return to his Antonina, which proved to be too much stress for our composer. So a few days later he made a feeble attempt at suicide.

He arranged to go back to St. Petersburg for October 7^th, and consulted a specialist who suggested he never see his wife again. His brother then arranged a separation.

For years Antonina made poor Tchaikovsky’s life unbearable by alternatively accepting then refusing a divorce.

At one point Antonina actually moved into the apartment above Tchaikovsky, just to make his life miserable, and for ease of tormenting. I can just imagine it now – wake up, have breakfast, go downstairs to harass her estranged husband. The situation almost seems to be perfectly inspired by the drama from which Tchaikovsky drew from for many of his compositions, which included Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, and Lord Byron’s Manfred.

Luckily this all worked out in the end for our favourite Russian composer: in 1881 it was discovered that Antonina had birthed an illegitimate child, which gave Tchaikovsky legitimate grounds for divorce. I know, this sounds suspiciously like a Shakespearean comedy. It has movement from imperfect social order, to absolute disaster with both excessive and funny elements (see Act IV, scene V of Taming of the Shrew), finally settling on a renewed and balanced order in which wrongs are righted. Though this comedy, instead of ending in marriage, ended in a happy divorce.

But still, Antonina could reveal at any time Tchaikovsky’s refusal to engage in sexual acts with women. He worried that it may become public at any moment, and so spent a great deal of time out in seclusion in the countryside.

And here is where the comedy switches to tragedy; the ghosts take the place of the wood nymphs.

Ultimately, in 1893, he committed suicide. It seems that the reason is because of an affair the composer had with an aristocrat’s nephew. There was a court of honour to decide how to dispel the scandal, and it was decided that the composer should kill himself.

Even though Michel Foucault, renowned theorist and critic says in his History of Sexuality that the Victorian Era (roughly 1837-1901) is the time that “the homosexual became a species,” it is clear that though distinct, this minority group was far from accepted in Tchaikovsky’s time.

Tchaikovsky struggled his entire life with what his society believed were unnatural desires. There are many rumours and bits of information, none of which I am completely convinced, that I’ve come across regarding the composer’s personal life.

Some sources say that he was surrounded by a close community of men who supported his differences.

Some even say that he was fairly open about his sexuality and frequently engaged in sexual acts with men, but felt shameful about it.

Whatever the truth was about his personal life, it is completely indisputable that Tchaikovsky was a musical genius. And, as some critics suggest, much of the wonderful passion in his music came from his inability to fully express himself in his personal life. So ultimately, his misery led to some of the greatest musical masterpieces we know today.

This season you can hear music by Tchaikovsky performed by the Kingston Symphony on April 13^th, 2014 in Brahms, Schumann & Tchaikovsky.

Tabloid Tuesday: Clara & Robert Scumann and Johannes Brahms

If you thought your trip through the supermarket check-out was ripe with shelves of scandal, you should have seen what was going on in the lives of your favourite composers! This week, we’re featuring Robert and Clara Schumann and Johannes Brahms.

Let’s start with a little background. In 1840, Clara and Robert were married after a Romeo-and Juliet-esque affair (minus the Montague’s) in which Clara’s father strongly opposed their union for years prior to it. However, instead of the curtain falling with an empty vial of poison and a dagger in hand, the lovers took the case to court and won. Three cheers for reason and law!

In the year 1853 on September 30^th, Brahms met the Schumann’s for the first time. Robert Schumann was so taken with the young composer that he wrote a prophetic article, Neue Bahnen (New Paths) praising him.

The following February Robert Schumann had his final nervous breakdown, during which he attempted suicide by jumping off a bridge. He voluntarily went into an asylum for the last few years of his life and passed away on July 29, 1856. The news of Robert’s death sent Brahms back to Dusseldorf to assist Clara, who was 14 years his senior, with the children and her home while she was performing. Did I mention that she was a renowned pianist and composer? The Schumann’s were quite the musical family.

So of course, Brahms’ devotion for Clara quickly developed into something more. If you’ve ever read or heard of Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther, (fun fact: Goethe was actually an admirer of Clara’s piano stylings) it was kind of like that. For those of you who aren’t familiar with German Romanticism, the short notes look something like this:

Young man falls in madly love with a woman who is already taken. He then spends the rest of the novel weeping “delicious tears” at the hem of her dresses and fainting and falling all over the place because of his extreme excess of manly passion. Ultimately, his beloved would not be with him, and he kills himself. It was incredibly popular all over Europe in the Romantic era, and caused a trend called “Werthermania.” Some scholars suggest this led to a string of suicides to match all the Werther-wannabe’s, while to others (including me), it is clear that that the entire continent grossly misread the novel and that it is actually a deeply satirical critique of the culture of sensibility not to be imitated, but mocked. But I digress.

Unlike the ill-fated young Werther, Brahms, fortunately for us, did not kill himself in light of Clara’s love and devotion, which, unlike the man it was for, was undying. Instead, he met Agathe von Gottingen in 1858 and fell in love with her. This came to nothing, aside from tempering his passion for Clara.

The relationship between Clara and Brahms was rife with minor misunderstandings and some wounds which would never entirely heal, though their relationship remained largely affectionate throughout their lives.

In the spring on 1896 Clara died, and in April of the next year Brahms, too, passed away.

The extent of their relationship has never quite been made clear. They destroyed a large part of their correspondence with one another, so who knows what went on with them? One bit of correspondence we do have is that Brahms wrote to Clara in March 1876: “I love you better than myself or than anyone or anything in the world.”

Now, I have read a lot of speculation on the nature of the relationship between Clara and Johannes. As much as I promised a “tabloid” themed post, I fear I haven’t entirely delivered on the gossip, since what you have above here is the most neutral, objective account of what happened between the Schumann’s and Brahms. So here are some of the juicy things I have read which may or may not be true:

Brahms and Clara would frequently travel together and were often seen hugging and kissing one another in public.

Brahms idealized Clara too much to consummate their relationship.

Lastly, there has been speculation that their relationship was consummated, but few credible sources which make that claim.

This season you can hear the music of Brahms performed by the Kingston Symphony on September 29^th, 2013 in Beethoven & Brahms, on March 2^nd, 2014 in Brahms, Mozart & Elgar, and both Brahms and Schumann on April 13^th, 2014 in Brahms, Schumann & Tchaikovsky.

Beaches and Blogs

Dear music lovers,

Happy summer! My name is Ashley and I will be bringing you along on a refreshing blogging adventure to last the rest of the hot and humid summer months. In addition to the fabulous commentary provided by Maestro Fast on the KSA’s season, I will be adding my own input on classical music and those who write and play it while the Maestro's on the golf course.

A bit about this young stranger talking at you: I am a student marketing assistant with the Kingston Symphony for the summer. I am starting my MA in English at Queen’s in the fall after my bachelor’s degree from the University of Manitoba. I have a rich history working with and around classical music with the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra and at the Manitoba Centennial Concert Hall, and through my own musical studies. But enough about me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what will make my posts popular and successful. What will inspire each and every one of you to think, “wow! She’s a fabulous and nuanced writer! I must immediately share this with everyone I know!” After some musing and a reality check, I realized that what it comes down to is what you, the reader, want to read about. Leave me some comments and I’ll be happy to find the inside story on what you’re looking for. Until then, I’ll tell you a bit about our season and get you the inside scoop on our musicians, and the scandalous lives of your favourite composers.

Tell me what you’re interested in, what you want to know about the Kingston Symphony, classical music, our guest artists, life in Kingston, or even my cats (I promise, they really are fascinating)! I’ll do my best to get you the information you want and keep you entertained along the way. So stick around and, as Horace would have it, I will both instruct and delight!