This is your public radio station, WHQR Wilmington, coming up in an hour.
It is Massenet's Werther with The Met.
And first, Peter Schickele, if he's ready.
I'm ready to roll.
Here's the theme.
Hello there, I'm Peter Schickele, and this is Schickele 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 what could be better than having one's bills paid by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
by the National Endowment for the Arts, and by this extremely with it radio station, wherein
I'm provided with the coolest of studios, and whence what gets confabulated therein
gets distributed to the wide, wide world by PRI, Public Radio International.
On another edition of this show, I mentioned the pasacalla and chaconne, two Baroque variation
forms that grew out of dances.
I guess the original Spanish dances were pretty raunchy, certainly smoldering, perhaps even
salacious.
But musically, they evolved into very rigorous forms for very pure art.
I'm sure that wasn't the first time that music born in seedy surroundings ended up being
transformed by the Henry Higgins of history into concert pieces that you had to dress
up to listen to.
And I know it wasn't the last.
Jazz was born in bordellos and smoky clubs and parades, but it wasn't long before she
was being gussied up and taken to the best restaurants, and eventually they even let
her into Carnegie Hall.
Along the way, she entranced a lot of classical composers, and today we're going to listen
to some of the results of those flirtations.
Sometimes they were more than flirtations.
In some cases, a serious romance developed that lasted many years.
Here's a piece played by a pianist who was no stranger to low life joints, followed by
a concert prelude.
Here's a piece played by a pianist who was no stranger to low life joints, followed by
a concert prelude.
Here's a piece played by a pianist who was no stranger to low life joints, followed by
a concert prelude.
Here's a piece played by a pianist who was no stranger to low life joints, followed by
a concert prelude.
Here's a piece played by a pianist who was no stranger to low life joints, followed by
a concert prelude.
Here's a piece played by a pianist who was no stranger to low life joints, followed by
a concert prelude.
Fats Waller playing Carolina Shout, followed by Alan Feinberg playing a prelude written
by Conlon Nancarrow in 1935, Stride Piano meets Imitative Counterpoint.
Conlon Nancarrow is an interesting guy.
Not only does he have a rather unusual name, C-O-N-L-O-N-N-A-N-C-A-R-R-O-W, it's always
sounded to me as if it must be an anagram for something, but he ended up composing for
an unusual medium, the player piano.
Having gotten into political hot water in the late 30s, I guess the American authorities
deemed him prematurely anti-fascist or something, and took away his passport, he moved to Mexico
City and lived pretty much in isolation.
By punching holes directly into piano rolls, he avoided the necessity of having other musicians
around to play his music, and he discovered the freedom of writing for the piano without
writing for pianists.
That is, what he wrote didn't have to be playable by human hands.
He took advantage of this freedom not only by writing notes that human fingers couldn't
reach, but also by employing rhythmic relationships too complex for the human brain to handle.
And yet, at least for quite a while, the jazz influences remained strong.
In fact, hearing his player piano pieces, it's hard to avoid the feeling that Nancarrow
was influenced not only by ragtime and stride pianists, but by the piano rolls made by those
pianists.
There is a certain sound to them.
Here's a piano roll made by Jelly Roll Morton in 1924, followed by one of Conlon Nancarrow's
studies for player piano.
And…
do
Okay, the first piece was Charles Ives, Study No. 20, played by Alan Feinberg.
It's a typically remarkable, innovative, prescient, in-your-face, cantankerous, bull-in-a-china-shop Ives piece
with everything but the kitchen sink paraded before our stunned ears.
It reminds me of one of those southern Italian seafood stews where they drop the various creatures live into the boiling water.
Then we heard the eighth of William Balcombe's twelve new etudes, marked Rag Infernal, Sinkup Apocalyptic,
performed with diabolical esprit by Marc-Andre Amlin. It's a dazzler.
Ragtime was, of course, primarily a piano phenomenon, but the most popular numbers were often arranged for instrumental ensembles.
Here's one such arrangement, followed by an example of what American ragtime sounded like
after passing through the filter of one of Europe's strongest musical personalities.
Here's another example of what American ragtime sounded like after passing through the filter of one of Europe's strongest musical personalities.
It says, At the time of its composition, Johnny Spielt Auf seemed the height of novelty and notoriety. Two technical advances, a wireless radio and a real locomotive
– eat your heart out, Robert Wilson – are featured on stage, and the story touches on a scandalous subject, entanglements between a black jazz musician and white women.
The plot itself concerns two thefts, of love and of a violin, and the ensuing craving for revenge.
The theft of the violin by Johnny, the black jazz musician, from Daniello, the classical virtuoso, metaphorically questions the value of established musical idioms.
In fact, Krennic apotheosizes Johnny in the final scene while he kills off the classical violinist.
The libretto definitely casts America – this isn't Catherine anymore, this is me, folks – the libretto definitely casts America, represented by jazz, as the future, which is to be embraced.
The text of the last chorus is, The bell has rung, the old time goes, a new time begins now, don't miss the glorious path.
The crossing is announced into the unknown land of freedom. They're going to America here.
The crossing has begun, the crossing has begun, and Johnny plays for us to dance.
For now the mighty new world comes across the ocean and overpowers old Europe through the dance.
We're going to hear scene three, which is set in a Paris hotel.
Johnny, the jazz musician, is making out with Yvonne, the maid of the opera singer Anita, who, after repulsing Johnny, is charmed by the classical violinist Daniello.
Are you with me? The important thing is that Johnny, at the end of the scene, steals Daniello's violin.
A little historical note, Johnny Spieltauf was premiered in 1927, one year before the Three Penny Opera.
Oh, that is my Johnny, who plays the violin.
Oh, but don't be so fast, give me a kiss.
Is this Daniello's room? Yes.
Let me in, I must see the beautiful violin.
You must be crazy, every moment he comes back from the concert.
I must play the violin again.
Oh, but don't be so fast, give me a kiss.
Hello to Brown.
Mesdames, Messieurs, un moment de repos.
Ich bin der König der Geige, wenn ich spiele, zerbröseln die Herzen im Kreise.
Rund um die Erde schlingt sich ein Franz meiner jungen Mutter.
Dieses Herren ist ein Affe.
Wo hat der Kerl die Geige?
Ah, zugesperrt, da kommt schon wieder jemand.
Gott sei Dank, ich entkann den Leuten.
Ach, sie meinen es gut, aber ich bin so blüde.
Es war wohl ein großer Erfolg.
Suchte, was an ihm gescheit.
Ob ein Schaf, die weiße Frau ist schön, mir ist, als hätte ich keine noch gesehen.
Doch nun nach Haus!
Madame!
Was wünschen Sie von mir?
Sie sind so schön, ich liebe Sie.
Lassen Sie mich gehen.
Oh, ich bin stark, Sie ahnen es nicht. Fragen Sie doch die Mädchen vor Paris.
Lassen Sie mich!
Tote, toi, les griots!
Du luppen Kerl!
Das Geld!
Du luppen Kerl!
Hilfe, besser nicht erschüttern!
Du luppen Kerl!
Das Geld!
Du luppen Kerl!
I will go away from my homeland.
Be happy without me.
I want to try it, but I can't.
I will go away from my homeland.
Be happy without me.
I want to try it, but I can't.
I want to try it.
This is John, his jazz band.
I use the term jazz pretty broadly myself.
Ragtime, blues, big band, all sorts of stuff.
But even I, even good old a rose by any other name would smell as sweet I,
am flummoxed by what some Europeans have called jazz.
Our tidbit today is the first number of a work called Jazz Suite No. 2.
Got that title? Jazz Suite No. 2.
Okay, man, count it off. One, two, one, two, three.
Hey, man, take it.
Take it.
If that's jazz, I'll eat my pork pie hat.
The March from the Jazz Suite No. 2 by that old hipster Dmitri Shostakovich.
I guess sometimes jazz just means non-heavy-duty classical.
And the title of that piece is Suite for Promenade Orchestra.
Ricardo Chai conducted the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra.
Well, we have time for another tune.
But before we do that, I just want to announce that I have figured out
the anagram for Conlon Nancarrow.
You see, when he lived down there in Mexico City,
they had a great big gun that they used to use to protect the city.
But finally, it got completely grooved and bent out of shape,
and it just wouldn't shoot the ammunition straight.
So they decided to use it for peaceful purposes and plant plants in it, flowers.
And since it was now being used for peaceful purposes,
Conlon Nancarrow wrote a Christmas song about the old gun,
and it was called the Warn Cannon Carol.
Thank you.
OK, we're going to go back to Scott Joplin.
Before we do, I'd like to say I just noticed that I didn't give the proper credit
for the Sunflower Slow Drag earlier in the program.
That actually is by Scott Joplin and Scott Hayden.
We're now going to hear Heliotrope Bouquet,
a beautiful one by Scott Joplin and Louise Chauvin.
And you know, listening to these rags in their orchestrated form,
they sound a lot more European to me.
In point of fact, Joplin considered his rags to be quite classical pieces,
to be played like Chopin preludes, which some pianists do now.
And when you hear them orchestrated like this,
I guess it really isn't that different from some of the things
in the Shostakovich Jazz Suite No. 2.
CLASSICAL MUSIC
Heliotrope Bouquet by Scott Joplin and Louise Chauvin,
and that was the Southland Stingers with Ralph Grierson,
arranged and conducted by George Sponholtz.
That isn't an actual old arrangement from the early part of the century,
but it's an arrangement done in that style,
played by Los Angeles Cats.
As a matter of fact, I see that Shelly Mann is playing that very hip drum part.
OK, we're going to go out with a little rag I like to play.
I'm going to turn around here to the authentic instrument
and play the Gang of Wolves rag.
CLASSICAL MUSIC
And that's Sickly Mix for this week.
Our program is made possible with funds provided
by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
by the National Endowment for the Arts,
and by this radio station and its members.
Thank you, members.
Our program is distributed by PRI, Public Radio International.
We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist
of all the music on today's program with album numbers and everything.
Just refer to the program number.
This is program number 99.
And this is Peter Sickly 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.
CLASSICAL MUSIC
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned,
send a stamped self-addressed envelope to Sickly Mix.
That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E, Sickly Mix.
Care of Public Radio International, 100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A,
Minneapolis, Minnesota, 55403.
PRI, Public Radio International.