And now, Shickley Mix. Ready, Mr. Shickley? Well, ready is a relative term, but here's the theme.
Hello there, I'm Peter Shickley, and this is Shickley Mix, a program dedicated to the proposition that all musics are created equal. Or as Duke Ellington put it, if it sounds good, it is good.
And it is good to report with gratitude that our bills are paid by this state-of-the-art radio station, which means they allow me to state my views about art. Saw a nice cartoon in a magazine once.
Two dinosaurs, great big brontosauruses, are foraging for food in a swampy field, and one says to the other, Beulah, come here and look! I found a pea the size of a brain! No, really!
Now, I'm sure that Beulah and her friend assumed, inasmuch as they assumed anything, that there would always be dinosaurs. Just as many people assume that there will always be dinosaurs. There will always be symphony orchestras.
But the symphony orchestra didn't exist before Haydn and Mozart, and there's no reason to assume that it will always be around, especially as a purveyor of interesting new utterances.
Leonard Bernstein once said that Stravinsky's Symphony in Three Movements, written in the early 1940s, was the last great symphony. Maybe, maybe not. It certainly hasn't kept people from writing them,
and some recent examples, such as John Corleone's, have met with great success. But today, we're going to talk about the symphony orchestra. We're going to deal with a form or technique that is even more associated with the past than the symphony is,
and that's the fugue. Now, a brief fortune cookie definition of a fugue might be a piece featuring more or less strict imitation, by all the voices of the texture,
of a short, striking, melodic idea, called a subject, that is used throughout the piece. Hmm, I guess even that's too long for a fortune cookie. How about good theme worth hearing many times?
Whatever. Anyhow, the best way to describe a piece is to play it. I'll let Glenn Gould do that.
The second fugue from Johann Sebastian Bach's well-tempered clavier, called the WTC by those in the know, played by Glenn Gould. This is presented as a sort of a reference point.
On other editions of Shickley Mix, we trace the development of the music, the fugue, Bach's mastery of it, and also his long shadow when it comes to other composers writing fugues.
Today we're going to follow the form into the 20th century and ask the question, which happens to be the title of today's show, Is there a fugue in your future? You won't want to miss the surprising answer
to a question that has never been more timely, so stay tuned, won't you? Okay, I have been known to rant on about a pet peeve of mine,
composers whose music doesn't sound at all like Bach until they write a fugue, at which point they're suddenly playing the organ at St. Thomas Church in Leipzig with 20 kids
crawling around their feet. During the 19th century, fugue writing came to be more and more regarded as an academic exercise, and only the more conservative composers, such as Brahms,
made significant use of fugal techniques in concert pieces. But after the First World War, a wave of neoclassicism, second only to that of Beatlemania, swept over Western Europe and the
fugue was back in. Not only did composers write separate fugues and fugal sections in larger works, some of them actually emulated the well-tempered clavier and wrote large collections of preludes
and fugues in various keys. The results, in terms of my pet peeve, have been mixed. Some of the pieces genuflect, consciously or unconsciously, before the old master, but others,
achieve escape velocity and break free of the Baroque's powerful gravitational pull. How far out they get varies.
Okay, now two-thirds of the fugues in our first suite come from WTC wannabes, but they sound quite fresh and full of personality. In the first, it's partly because the subject is
very un-Bachy. It sounds sort of like a soft, new-age bugle call. And at least this pianist, who is not the composer, uses quite a bit of pedal, which is nice.
It avoids that dry sewing machine articulation that is rightly or wrongly associated with Bach.
The second number in our suite does have that dry articulation, but it's in 5-8 time, which you didn't hear a whole lot of in 18th century Leipzig. In those days, meters were either
duple or triple. Any organist trying to slip in a little 5-8 time would have been demoted to pumping the bellows. Our third piece is a delightful addendum. It's not from a large collection in
fact, it's by a miniaturist who would seem to be the antithesis of a fugal composer. His music tends
to be simple, almost childlike, repetitious, sly, and about as unlearned-sounding as you can get.
But here he proves that he can fugalize those qualities just fine. I call this suite the well-tempered clavier rides again, which it does for about five and a half minutes. See you then.
The well-tempered clavier rides again. We began with Dmitri Shostakovich from his Preludes and
Fugues for Piano, Op. 87. That was fugue number 7 in A major, played by Tatyana Nikolaeva. And I
listened to a recording of Shostakovich himself playing that fugue, and he does use less pedal, but I like it with the pedal. I think it's a great piece. It's a great piece. It's a great piece. It works very nicely. Then we heard the second fugue from Hindemith's Ludus Tonalis,
another collection of Preludes and Fugues, played by K.B. Laritai. And then finally,
from a piece by Eric Satie called Chose vue à droite et à gauche, which is things seen from
left and right without glasses, we heard the fugue à taton, which according to this liner note means the feeling one's way fugue.
Now, some of Satie's other fugues sound as if he had named his cat Bach just to get satisfaction from pulling its tail. There is a sort of an anger in them. As a matter of fact, here's what Satie said
about chorales. He said, my chorales equal those of Bach with this difference. There are not so many of them, and they are less pretentious. That certainly is a basically unpretentious little
fugue and a delightful one. My name is Peter Shickley, and the show is Shickley, and I'm here to tell you about the Fugue à Taton mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
Now let's follow the fugue into the modern symphony orchestra. All three selections in our next suite are parts of longer symphonic works whose other parts aren't fugal. In other words, the comparatively
strict imitative procedure and contrapuntal texture of a fugue is used as a contrast to the surrounding
material. In the first number, the composer himself labeled this section fugue, but some others have said that it's not really a fugue. The counterpoint is rudimentary, and much of it doesn't sound like
counterpoint at all. It's more like melody and accompaniment. Well, you know, I think it's one of those damned if you do and damned if you don't situations. If you write a fugue that doesn't
sound anything like Bach, which this one certainly doesn't, people say it's not really a fugue. But if you write one that does sound like Bach, you've got the host of Shickley mix grumbling
about apron strings. Fortunately, most composers are too egocentric to listen to anyone but themselves.
You can decide for yourself. The second selection is a double fugue. The first subject is worked out by the instruments, and then when the chorus comes in, they have a new subject, which of course fits
with the first one. That's what double fugues are all about. And the third and last selection kicks up its heels a bit. The fugue in the orchestra suite is a little under 12 minutes long.
The fugue in the orchestra suite began with a section from Roy Harris' Third Symphony, The Fugue in the Orchestra Suite, a section from Roy Harris' Third Symphony, the fugue section that was performed by Howard Hansen conducting the Eastman Rochester Symphony
Orchestra. Then came the middle movement of Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms with Stravinsky
himself conducting the CBC Symphony Orchestra with the Festival Singers of Toronto. And then finally
the little fugato section and a fugato really means a small fugue or more properly the exposition part of a fugue but the whole thing isn't worked out like a full fugue would be.
Very often in larger pieces it's more of a fugato section than a full fugue. And this is from Hindemith's Symphonic Metamorphosis on Themes of Cara Maria von Weber.
That was the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Leonard Bernstein. You know I've always wanted to write a piece based on that piece so that I could call it Symphonic Metamorphosis
on Themes from Symphonic Metamorphosis on Themes. Symphonic Metamorphosis on Themes by Cara Maria von Weber by Paul Hindemith by Peter Schickely.
But I figure hey what piece could live up to that title. And it's tidbit time. I only have one thing
to say about this tidbit. I've used it before on the show it's true but that was in the original German. Now we're going to hear it translated into English. Two things to say about this tidbit.
We heard it before in German now we're going to hear it in English and you can very clearly hear the technique called augmentation in this piece.
The subject performed at one half speed and also at one quarter speed so it lasts two and four times as long as it did before.
Three things to say about this tidbit. We heard it before in German now we're going to hear it in English. It uses augmentation very clearly and it's one of the most unusual fugues ever written.
Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school.
Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school. Trinidad! And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school. Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school.
Trinidad! And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school.
Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school. Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. The Popocatépetl is not a chemistry school. Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. Trinidad! And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. Trinidad! Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. Trinidad! Trinidad!
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca. And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
And the big Mississippi and the town Honolulu and the lake Titicaca.
Okay, the music associated with the other young man, Sforzi, is called the rose truque. Here's how it starts.
Now, here Lewis just takes two little fragments. He keeps the notes and rhythm of the first one, and he keeps the rhythm of the second but changes the notes.
And once again extends it. for the fugue subject.
And of course, big surprise, all three subjects fit together. We hear all three simultaneously many times. I love this whole album, and I wish we had time for all four of the cuts
we've heard from, but we don't. So here's the triple fugue that ends the suite, Three Windows.
Three Windows
Three Windows from No Sun in Venice, the modern jazz quartet, composed by John Lewis, who was on piano, Milt Jackson on vibes, Percy Heath on bass, Connie Kay on drums.
The modern jazz quartet developed a wonderful fugue technique. Basically, a fugue consists of expositions where the theme is stated, and then episodes
in which it's sort of developed and usually goes to a different key. And they worked out a way where the expository places are composed, and then they improvise during the episodes.
It's a very satisfying thing. Formally, I find. Also, I like it, you know, I have a thing that I don't like. I don't like pianists who comp too much, who play chords,
play these crunchy chords under solos. It's often too busy for my taste. It's one of the reasons I love the old Jerry Mulligan pianoless quartet, was that you didn't have that comping.
And what I like about John Lewis is that he does other melodic lines often behind Milt Jackson when Jackson is improvising, instead of chords.
It's interesting to see John Lewis play, or at least the times I've seen him, because he's really very melodic. And his right hand is going around improvising the melody, and the left hand sort of hovers above the keyboard,
but it hardly ever drops, hardly ever plays anything. That was No Sun in Venice. Now that piece ends on a rather somber note. And I know that some of you are listening to this show while you're driving,
and I don't want you to fall asleep. So let's hear one of the most invigorating fugues written in the music. It's the 20th century.
That's a zinger, isn't it? The last movement of Samuel Barber's piano sonata, Fugue, Allegro Conspirato, played by David Alan Ware. And you know, we are early here. We've got a little bit of time left over.
So let's do play one of the other pieces from the modern jazz quartet piece, No Sun in Venice. Here's the opening number, The Golden Striker.
No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice
No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice
No Sun in Venice
No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice
No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice No Sun in Venice
No Sun in Venice
No Sun in Venice The Golden Striker from No Sun in Venice, the modern jazz quartet. Not a fugue, just a very nice filler. When I put this program together, I thought, I thought of it as the fugue
in the 20th century. But it isn't, you know. It's the fugue in the first half of the 20th century. The latest piece on this show, No Sun in Venice, was written in 1957. And the kinds of classical music
that have flourished since then, post-Webern serialism, minimalism, and the so-called new romanticism, have not been fugue-friendly. And I don't really see that changing.
So my answer to the question, is there a fugue in your future, would have to be, don't hold your breath. Of course, what do I know? I thought the polka would die with Lawrence Welk. But if you travel through Wisconsin,
you'll find out that it's still a viable art form. There's something about a good melody on top, an independent bass line on the bottom, and harmonizing notes in the middle, that just always seems to work.
For instance,
That's Sickly Mix for this week. Our program is made possible with funds provided by this radio station and its members. We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist of all the music on today's program
with record numbers and everything. Just refer to the program number. This is program 55. And this is Peter Schickely saying goodbye and reminding you that it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi.
You're looking good. See you next week.
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned, send a stamped self-addressed envelope to Schickely Mix.
That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E Schickely Mix. Care of Public Radio International, 100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, Minnesota,
5540. P-R-I
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