Exploring Music: Charming

I know that I am supposed to meet the classes I allegedly teach with smiling morning face betokening the eagerness I feel at the opening-up of minds to the blaze of knowledge. But there are days when I can't manage it and don't even try: all those bodies sprawled in their seats like victims of some random machine-gunning; all those determinedly expressionless faces that hope_ to hide from the others any glimmer of interest; all those balloons of gum, rising and falling like bubbles on swamp water. Ugh!

I know that I am supposed to write these pieces with similarly optimistic enthusiasm, exuding in equal measure profound musico-historical insights and Noelcowardian humor. But there are times when circumstances make this difficult if not impossible, generally through no fault of the readership.

As an example take the case of MHS 7528A. After hunting vainly for an LP, cassette, or even CD, I happened to glance at the master sheet that lists the items in a given release and saw inscribed among the marginalia "no tape copy available." That means that I have no way of hearing the performance itself (though I drug out of the files Efriede Kunschak's old Turnabout of the Beethoven and Edith Bauer-Slais' long-deleted MHS version of the Hummel).

In the 1790s Beethoven wrote, it appears, a number of pieces for the Neapolitan mandolin, the chief survivor of a number of regional Italian mandolins. In the latter 18th century it was a popular instrument and even made a number of operatic appearances. The most famous of these is in Don Giovanni's Act II serenade in Mozart's opera, though purists insist that Giovanni would have played a bandurria. (Verdi used it in Otello, when the Cypriots serenade Desdemona, as late as 1887, and Mahler used it in his symphonies even later.) Only four of Beethoven's efforts (those on this record) have so far turned up. The final manuscript of the Adagio is inscribed "Pour la belle J. par L.V.B." The Beautiful J. was the Countess Josephine Clary, wife of Count Christian von Clam-Gallas. She was also the recipient of at least two of the other pieces, and of the vocal scena "Ah! Perfidoi" (Ah! Faithless one!), she being a singer as well.

Carlo Cecere I fancy you've not encountered on records before. La tavemola abentorosa, the opera that was his magnum opus, got him in Dutch with both the police and the Church. Cecere, a Neapolitan, lived from 1706 to 1761. His real name was Cangiano. In addition to three operas, he produced flute concerti and chamber music. Obviously I can give you no impression of his mandolin piece. Hummel was, of course, Mozart's favorite pupil, and an important composer and pianist in his own right (but had nothing to do with those kitschy porcelain figures sold in Ye Olde Gifte Shoppe).

The music of those pieces accessible to me is insignificant but charming.

Review for Music for Mandolin and Harpsichord or Piano

I know that I am supposed to meet the classes I allegedly teach with smiling morning face betokening the eagerness I feel at the opening-up of minds to the blaze of knowledge. But there are days when I can't manage it and don't even try: all those bodies sprawled in their seats like victims of some random machine-gunning; all those determinedly expressionless faces that hope_ to hide from the others any glimmer of interest; all those balloons of gum, rising and falling like bubbles on swamp water. Ugh!

I know that I am supposed to write these pieces with similarly optimistic enthusiasm, exuding in equal measure profound musico-historical insights and Noelcowardian humor. But there are times when circumstances make this difficult if not impossible, generally through no fault of the readership.

As an example take the case of MHS 7528A. After hunting vainly for an LP, cassette, or even CD, I happened to glance at the master sheet that lists the items in a given release and saw inscribed among the marginalia "no tape copy available." That means that I have no way of hearing the performance itself (though I drug out of the files Efriede Kunschak's old Turnabout of the Beethoven and Edith Bauer-Slais' long-deleted MHS version of the Hummel).

In the 1790s Beethoven wrote, it appears, a number of pieces for the Neapolitan mandolin, the chief survivor of a number of regional Italian mandolins. In the latter 18th century it was a popular instrument and even made a number of operatic appearances. The most famous of these is in Don Giovanni's Act II serenade in Mozart's opera, though purists insist that Giovanni would have played a bandurria. (Verdi used it in Otello, when the Cypriots serenade Desdemona, as late as 1887, and Mahler used it in his symphonies even later.) Only four of Beethoven's efforts (those on this record) have so far turned up. The final manuscript of the Adagio is inscribed "Pour la belle J. par L.V.B." The Beautiful J. was the Countess Josephine Clary, wife of Count Christian von Clam-Gallas. She was also the recipient of at least two of the other pieces, and of the vocal scena "Ah! Perfidoi" (Ah! Faithless one!), she being a singer as well.

Carlo Cecere I fancy you've not encountered on records before. La tavemola abentorosa, the opera that was his magnum opus, got him in Dutch with both the police and the Church. Cecere, a Neapolitan, lived from 1706 to 1761. His real name was Cangiano. In addition to three operas, he produced flute concerti and chamber music. Obviously I can give you no impression of his mandolin piece. Hummel was, of course, Mozart's favorite pupil, and an important composer and pianist in his own right (but had nothing to do with those kitschy porcelain figures sold in Ye Olde Gifte Shoppe).

The music of those pieces accessible to me is insignificant but charming.

Review for Music for Mandolin and Harpsichord or Piano