At least the first part of this post is not quite directly about "women in music" - but that's okay.
While I was looking through Carmina Burana (which Symphonic Choir is singing presently), I found that the second section (In Taberna - "in the tavern) features tenor and baritone solos and only the tenors and basses of the chorus. While this arrangement didn't particularly surprise me, I was both mildly offended and confused: I spend as much time in a tavern/bar/pub as much as the next person (but I suppose I'm not your ordinary female, either). I don't know whether Orff just assumed that it would fit the text more not to use higher voices or what, but it was just...well, sort of strange.
In other (more women in music-related) news, the past two Symphonic rehearsals have been graduate choral conducting auditions. There was a pretty equal balance of men and women auditioning (seven and six respectively). Every candidate had strengths and weaknesses (as would be expected), and I'm certain each one was pretty nervous (auditioning by conducting 200 people simply can't NOT be scary). On the whole, the women tended to talk about and conduct in such a way that suggested we literally embrace the music. The men tended to request that we be more aggressive with what we were singing; one suggested we sing a passage "like Russians, as though [we had] just drunk a fifth of vodka."
This seems to come out between the conducting styles of the two directors of symphonic: in my experience, Dr. Miller has done all in his power to have us learn notes with no leniency towards slacking therein; when we do know our notes, he hammers them out to make we know them. While Dr. Quist doesn't exactly let people not know notes, she tends to help the sections go over passages where people may not have looked on their own time in order to get the notes. Both of them focus pretty equally on ideas, but the way they express them are very different. Dr. Miller is far more interactive (though this could be because it's Dr. Quist's first year at Westminster and she's not quite sure how to interact with us yet) physically: he will grab a soprano from the front row to demonstrate an idea, while Dr. Quist will often stick with an analogy and sometimes a story.
It is also worth mentioning that last year in the search for a new director for Chapel (freshman) Choir (for which Dr. Quist was hired), only female candidates were looked at apparently because of a "motherly" quality that was desired. Interestingly enough, Schola (sophomore choir) was the audition choir for these candidates, and we chose Dr. Quist largely because she was the most aggressive and her rehearsals were very efficient. Huh.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Der Rosenkavalier
So Richard Strauss was married to a soprano. I'm sure neither where or what she sang, nor whether whatever she may have had of a career continued after she married. I do know, however, that a good portion of his songs (many of which are for soprano to begin with) were for her.
I wouldn't necessarily call Strauss a "feminist" - I'm really not sure - but his opera, "Der Rosenkavalier" has some interesting points in it to that flavor (though Hugo von Hofmannsthal was the librettist). I first came across the music some years ago while playing in a summer orchestra program (during which the orchestra prepared one or two major works and performed it at the end of the week); Strauss took the major themes from the opera and condensed it into an orchestral suite shortly before he died. The conductor that week had assigned each of the sections to research a certain aspect of the work (the section who completed that the most quickly and accurately was dismissed for lunch first on Friday - I don't remember). The bass section was assigned the synopsis. I (being both the youngest and most excited out of the seven bassists) went to the library immediately and took notes. Golden stars for that week, for sure.
The basic story (in a very short and Cara-fied version) is that two kids fall in love but the girl is engaged to this old fat man who really does not treat her very well. Sophie (the young girl) and Octavian (the young boy, sung by a mezzo, something Strauss deliberately chose for the two reasons that the character is so young and so that some "fat old tenor" would never end up playing the role) devise a plan to get her out of the marriage. This is made interesting by the fact that Octavian and the Marschelin ("Princess" in the English versions) have been having an affair and Octavian is ultimately forced to choose between the two.
Okay, I know those paragraphs haven't really at all been about "women in music." But here's my thing about this opera: a third of the way into second act, Sophie realizes she doesn't want to marry the fat old guy, having not only fallen in love with Octavian, but quite literally having been "looked at like a horse" by the fat old guy. What's more, directly preceding this realization, she is shown to be quite the firecracker while making small talk with Octavian, venturing into topics which earn her many a nasty glare from her (for lack of a better term) nanny.
After Sophie's realization that she'd rather not enter this marriage, she asks Octavian for help - pretty typical of an opera, right? Girl is betrothed so some guy. Girl asks local hero to save her. This is where your typical opera with this sort of story ends: Octavian agrees to help her on the condition that she stand up for herself first (reasoning that there is nothing he can do until she makes it known that she is not happy with the arrangement).
Maybe it's not such a big thing, I don't know. Every time I come across that particular scene I am shocked; Octavian sings, "for you and me you must defend yourself and remain what you are." For the last three words ("was Sie ist"), Strauss first introduces Octavian's horn call, and he sings those words for the last part of the phrase. He is encouraging her to stand up for herself rather than be "the man" and do it for her. It's also in the following duet between the two when they switch from the formal to familiar forms of 18th century Viennese German (which also means that Sophie begins to address Octavian directly rather than saying things like, "Would it please him to sit down?").
...on the other hand, when I first saw this opera, the old man next to me said that he'd paid to see an opera, not some "lesbian sex scene". Eh.
I wouldn't necessarily call Strauss a "feminist" - I'm really not sure - but his opera, "Der Rosenkavalier" has some interesting points in it to that flavor (though Hugo von Hofmannsthal was the librettist). I first came across the music some years ago while playing in a summer orchestra program (during which the orchestra prepared one or two major works and performed it at the end of the week); Strauss took the major themes from the opera and condensed it into an orchestral suite shortly before he died. The conductor that week had assigned each of the sections to research a certain aspect of the work (the section who completed that the most quickly and accurately was dismissed for lunch first on Friday - I don't remember). The bass section was assigned the synopsis. I (being both the youngest and most excited out of the seven bassists) went to the library immediately and took notes. Golden stars for that week, for sure.
The basic story (in a very short and Cara-fied version) is that two kids fall in love but the girl is engaged to this old fat man who really does not treat her very well. Sophie (the young girl) and Octavian (the young boy, sung by a mezzo, something Strauss deliberately chose for the two reasons that the character is so young and so that some "fat old tenor" would never end up playing the role) devise a plan to get her out of the marriage. This is made interesting by the fact that Octavian and the Marschelin ("Princess" in the English versions) have been having an affair and Octavian is ultimately forced to choose between the two.
Okay, I know those paragraphs haven't really at all been about "women in music." But here's my thing about this opera: a third of the way into second act, Sophie realizes she doesn't want to marry the fat old guy, having not only fallen in love with Octavian, but quite literally having been "looked at like a horse" by the fat old guy. What's more, directly preceding this realization, she is shown to be quite the firecracker while making small talk with Octavian, venturing into topics which earn her many a nasty glare from her (for lack of a better term) nanny.
After Sophie's realization that she'd rather not enter this marriage, she asks Octavian for help - pretty typical of an opera, right? Girl is betrothed so some guy. Girl asks local hero to save her. This is where your typical opera with this sort of story ends: Octavian agrees to help her on the condition that she stand up for herself first (reasoning that there is nothing he can do until she makes it known that she is not happy with the arrangement).
Maybe it's not such a big thing, I don't know. Every time I come across that particular scene I am shocked; Octavian sings, "for you and me you must defend yourself and remain what you are." For the last three words ("was Sie ist"), Strauss first introduces Octavian's horn call, and he sings those words for the last part of the phrase. He is encouraging her to stand up for herself rather than be "the man" and do it for her. It's also in the following duet between the two when they switch from the formal to familiar forms of 18th century Viennese German (which also means that Sophie begins to address Octavian directly rather than saying things like, "Would it please him to sit down?").
...on the other hand, when I first saw this opera, the old man next to me said that he'd paid to see an opera, not some "lesbian sex scene". Eh.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Wow, posting on time! (Bach-related)...
So I brought up in class yesterday a little about Johann Sebastian Bach's second wife, Anna Magdalena. I thought I'd elaborate on her a bit.
Anna Magdalena's family was one of musicians; her father was a trumpeter at the court of Weissenfels, a town not too far from Köthen, where Bach was living when his first wife (Maria Barbara, who was a removed cousin of his) died. Her maternal grandfather was an organist in another relatively nearby German town (the name of which escapes me at the moment). Magdalena and her older sisters were all trained as singers; she and the second eldest sister were trained (perhaps by a woman by the name of Pauline Kellner - a WOMAN?! WOW) as singers. Magdalena was known to have been employed in this capacity at Zerbst, a neighboring court ot Weissenfels. By the time she was hired by Bach at Köthen in 1721 (not quite a year after Maria Barbara had died) Magdalena was the only unwed sister left in her family - and when she did marry Bach at the end of 1721, she was the only one not married to a trumpeter.
The prince Bach worked for was a particularly rich one; Prince Leopold was the ruler over a small but very wealthy area, and a generous one at that: while Leopold was a Calvinist, he allowed his employees to worship however they liked (allowing Bach to continue in his Lutheran tradition). Magdalena too was a Lutheran, making their marriage fairly simple; she presumably would have had to convert had she not been - but maybe not. At any rate, when hired, she was in a pay grade higher than both her elder brother (yet another trumpeter) and father (though they both worked for dukes rather than princes). After they married, Magdalena continued singing in her position professionally (rather than retiring to domestic life). She did so until their move to Leipzig in 1723.
It is also worth mentioning that Bach employed a few other female singers while in Köthen, though if I remember correctly they were...well, only singers. All the other instrumentalists were men. But hey, it's a start, right?
On THAT token, I also wanted to mention that Bach was friends with Johann Adolfe Hasse and his wife Faustina, that opera singer in chapter 5 of the Pendle book. Bach would make fairly frequent trips to Dresden while he lived in Leipzig for various reasons; there are accounts of him giving organ recitals there, but it would appear that he would go to see opera. It is likely, therefore, that he saw Faustina perform (and as a small side note, since Staatskapelle Dresden has definitely played for the big opera company there for like 500 years, he heard them as well - what fun, since we just performed with them a few months ago!).
Anna Magdalena's family was one of musicians; her father was a trumpeter at the court of Weissenfels, a town not too far from Köthen, where Bach was living when his first wife (Maria Barbara, who was a removed cousin of his) died. Her maternal grandfather was an organist in another relatively nearby German town (the name of which escapes me at the moment). Magdalena and her older sisters were all trained as singers; she and the second eldest sister were trained (perhaps by a woman by the name of Pauline Kellner - a WOMAN?! WOW) as singers. Magdalena was known to have been employed in this capacity at Zerbst, a neighboring court ot Weissenfels. By the time she was hired by Bach at Köthen in 1721 (not quite a year after Maria Barbara had died) Magdalena was the only unwed sister left in her family - and when she did marry Bach at the end of 1721, she was the only one not married to a trumpeter.
The prince Bach worked for was a particularly rich one; Prince Leopold was the ruler over a small but very wealthy area, and a generous one at that: while Leopold was a Calvinist, he allowed his employees to worship however they liked (allowing Bach to continue in his Lutheran tradition). Magdalena too was a Lutheran, making their marriage fairly simple; she presumably would have had to convert had she not been - but maybe not. At any rate, when hired, she was in a pay grade higher than both her elder brother (yet another trumpeter) and father (though they both worked for dukes rather than princes). After they married, Magdalena continued singing in her position professionally (rather than retiring to domestic life). She did so until their move to Leipzig in 1723.
It is also worth mentioning that Bach employed a few other female singers while in Köthen, though if I remember correctly they were...well, only singers. All the other instrumentalists were men. But hey, it's a start, right?
On THAT token, I also wanted to mention that Bach was friends with Johann Adolfe Hasse and his wife Faustina, that opera singer in chapter 5 of the Pendle book. Bach would make fairly frequent trips to Dresden while he lived in Leipzig for various reasons; there are accounts of him giving organ recitals there, but it would appear that he would go to see opera. It is likely, therefore, that he saw Faustina perform (and as a small side note, since Staatskapelle Dresden has definitely played for the big opera company there for like 500 years, he heard them as well - what fun, since we just performed with them a few months ago!).
Sunday, February 13, 2011
When the (not as) fat lady sings
Okay, this happened a week ago, but I'm writing about it now. Hoo-rah.
Last Sunday I saw Sharon Sweet sing at Westminster. Ms. Sweet was previously quite large and over this last summer had surgery to reduce the size of her stomach. She lost a considerable amount of weight (I've heard upwards and maybe even beyond 300 pounds) and is now able to walk around, use stairs and (as it were) give full recitals again.
Ms. Sweet is INCREDIBLE. Her voice is amazing; she has command of the repertoire and stage. Here is a woman who has overcome many odds to save her own life. There is a recording of the Verdi Requiem she did. Even in the recording (despite engineering and mixing), her voice still overpowers the orchestra at times.
For this recital, Ms. Sweet invited faculty members and students from her studio to perform alongside her. It seemed as though her peers were just as happy to perform with her - that she was ABLE to perform with them - as the audience (standing room - I'd never seen that in Bristol Chapel before!) was to hear her. I can't be sure, but I think that was the first public performance Ms. Sweet had given in quite some time.
I don't like in the United States that everyone gets a standing ovation. I think one is merited when the performance was not only outstanding (we can see outstanding musicians anywhere, really), but actually fundamentally moving, life-changing. This recital was it. I was surprised at myself (I'm an organist - voice recitals are sometimes difficult for me to sit through), but I was so happy for her and proud of her for making a few decisions in a better direction. Her Met career is probably over, but she is still incredible through and through.
Last Sunday I saw Sharon Sweet sing at Westminster. Ms. Sweet was previously quite large and over this last summer had surgery to reduce the size of her stomach. She lost a considerable amount of weight (I've heard upwards and maybe even beyond 300 pounds) and is now able to walk around, use stairs and (as it were) give full recitals again.
Ms. Sweet is INCREDIBLE. Her voice is amazing; she has command of the repertoire and stage. Here is a woman who has overcome many odds to save her own life. There is a recording of the Verdi Requiem she did. Even in the recording (despite engineering and mixing), her voice still overpowers the orchestra at times.
For this recital, Ms. Sweet invited faculty members and students from her studio to perform alongside her. It seemed as though her peers were just as happy to perform with her - that she was ABLE to perform with them - as the audience (standing room - I'd never seen that in Bristol Chapel before!) was to hear her. I can't be sure, but I think that was the first public performance Ms. Sweet had given in quite some time.
I don't like in the United States that everyone gets a standing ovation. I think one is merited when the performance was not only outstanding (we can see outstanding musicians anywhere, really), but actually fundamentally moving, life-changing. This recital was it. I was surprised at myself (I'm an organist - voice recitals are sometimes difficult for me to sit through), but I was so happy for her and proud of her for making a few decisions in a better direction. Her Met career is probably over, but she is still incredible through and through.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
First Post
I had a few thoughts today while I was practicing organ - well, a few extraneous from fingering or articulation. I thought about how my favorite organ recording artist (Joan Lippincott) is a woman. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that there are actually quite a few woman recording and concert organists in the public eye - certainly more than one might think looking at individual "organ scenes".
Take, for instance, the New York City organ scene: you have names like Paul Jacobs, John Scott and McNeil Robinson floating around. Two of them teach at prestigious music schools and the third is the choir director and sometimes organist of a renowned choir school. In Philadelphia you have Peter Richard Conte (Grand Court Organist at the Macy's, which houses the largest operational organ in the world) and Alan Morrison, who teaches at Curtis (and Westminster too, actually). Those five, of course are just big names.
But what about in other circles? I don't know so much about any particular individual basis, but the organ circle in Seattle (where I grew up) is mostly male. There are a few women floating around, certainly, but it's very male-heavy on the whole.
Why then, does the ratio of men to women seem more balanced when I look at the back page of each month's edition of "The American Organist"? I do truly believe it's because each one of those women has made a name for themselves by their talent. Quite frankly, I don't think it's within the capacity of the agents who put these ads into this publication to consciously make a decision about how many women they choose to feature.
Take, for instance, the New York City organ scene: you have names like Paul Jacobs, John Scott and McNeil Robinson floating around. Two of them teach at prestigious music schools and the third is the choir director and sometimes organist of a renowned choir school. In Philadelphia you have Peter Richard Conte (Grand Court Organist at the Macy's, which houses the largest operational organ in the world) and Alan Morrison, who teaches at Curtis (and Westminster too, actually). Those five, of course are just big names.
But what about in other circles? I don't know so much about any particular individual basis, but the organ circle in Seattle (where I grew up) is mostly male. There are a few women floating around, certainly, but it's very male-heavy on the whole.
Why then, does the ratio of men to women seem more balanced when I look at the back page of each month's edition of "The American Organist"? I do truly believe it's because each one of those women has made a name for themselves by their talent. Quite frankly, I don't think it's within the capacity of the agents who put these ads into this publication to consciously make a decision about how many women they choose to feature.
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