Modest Mussorgsky – Night On Bald Mountain

October 28, 2012

The finale of October’s “spooky” classical music is none other than Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky’s (mo-dest, not maw-dest) diabolical work, Night On Bald Mountain. This is another famous work that has been used and referenced numerous times in pop culture. It was one of the first tone poems from a Russian composer (remember tone poems from Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre?). The story that this tone poem tells goes something like this (taken from program notes included in the score):

“Subterranean sounds of unearthly voices. Appearance of the Spirits of Darkness, followed by that of Chernobog. Glorification of Chernobog and celebration of the Black Mass. Witches’ Sabbath. At the height of the orgy, the bell of the little village church is heard from afar. The Spirits of Darkness are dispersed. Daybreak.”

As with Danse Macabre you can definitely hear the story as the music progresses (fyi, chernobog means “black god” in Russian). Any of you who watched Disney’s Fantasia as a child will be familiar with this piece. I believe it’s the last song, the creepy one with the big demon on the mountain. The version in Fantasia is slightly different, however, being an arrangement made by that conductor, Leopold Stokowski. In fact, that’s not the only time this piece has been re-arranged. It’s got quite the convoluted history, so if you care to find out, continue onward.

Mussorgsky originally wrote and titled it St. John’s Night on the Bare Mountain, but his mentor at the time refused to perform it. Mussorgsky then took parts of his tone poem and used them in other subsequent compositions. The original version was never actually published until 1968, 100 years after Mussorgsky finished it in 1897. In fact, the version I present you with here and the one most widely recognized and performed is an arrangement from fellow Russian composer Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (if I haven’t covered him yet, rest assured I will in the future). This version was composed in 1886, 5 years after Mussorgsky’s death, as Rimsky-Korsakov was going through the late composer’s works to prepare them for publication. Rimsky-Korsakov came across one of the compositions using some of Mussorgsky’s ideas from his original work and turned it into a full orchestral edition. Rimsky-Korsakov didn’t actually use the original tone poem in his re-working of Mussorgsky’s music; he didn’t realize at the time that the original St. John’s Night on the Bare Mountain was in fact already a finished work. This is a condensed version of the history; you can find the complete background here.

I had fun picking out the songs for this month. I think they definitely show that not all classical music is boring, slow, and sounds the same. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do! Here’s Stokowski’s version for Fantasia if you’d like to listen and compare:

– cheerlubber

Edvard Grieg – In The Hall of the Mountain King

October 21, 2012

Ahh, a classic. I touched on composer Edvard Grieg a bit once before (looks a bit like a Norwegian Albert Einstein, don’t you think?), also with a song from the Peer Gynt Suite (see my post on Anitra’s Dance). I told you then that you’re probably more familiar with Grieg than you’d think, and now here I am again presenting one of his most famous songs to you. We lost our CD that had Peer Gynt on it, unfortunately, so I’ve been on the hunt for some good recordings. Haven’t quite found one yet I’m totally in love with so sorry the quality of this mp3 is a little crummy. However, while searching for a good copy, I did discover that Apocalyptica apparently did a cover of this iconic song once upon a time too. Interesting.  > o>

Now I can’t quite remember the story behind this song off the top of my head–something about the lad Peer Gynt trying to rescue someone from some trolls I think?–but I do remember that when I would listen to the Peer Gynt Suite CD many times over as a child, I always got especially interactive with this particular song. As the song starts out slow I would tip-toe around, but as it picked up speed and got faster (the version we had was a particularly fast recording), I would start running in place like a madman, pretending I was running away from the Mountain King, whoever he was. Thank goodness I usually did it with just myself in my parents’ bedroom because there’s no doubt I looked mighty silly doing it. I swear I don’t do it anymore, guyz.

Anyway, this song is frequently used in commercials or movies for a frantic or mischievous scene. You should recognize it right away. I thought it would go along mighty well with the whole October theme with classical music I’m doing here. Hope you enjoy it! Look forward til next Sunday for the big, grand, spooky finale!

– cheerlubber

Camille Saint-Saëns – Danse Macabre

October 14, 2012 — 1 Comment

Thought we’d have some fun, being that it is October, and present some darker, “spooky” classical music to fit with the season. I’ve introduced Camille Saint-Saens before with “Aquarium” (pronounced like sayn-saww; he’s French) and he’s been one of my favorite composers for a while, and this is one of my favorite pieces of his. It’s just a great piece that’s loads of fun to listen to even when it’s not October.

This particular piece is classified as a “tone poem,” a single, continuous movement that illustrates or evokes a story, a poem, or even a painting or a landscape. Danse Macabre is based on an old French legend that says Death comes out at midnight every year on Halloween and calls forth the dead from their graves to dance while he plays the fiddle. To start the piece, you hear the harp play a single note twelve times, signifying the twelve strokes of midnight. Then Death’s fiddle chimes in (the violin) with dissonant chords; this particular chord is called a tritone, which is also commonly referred to as the “Devil’s internal.” The violin’s E string has also purposefully been tuned down to an E-flat to achieve this. Saint-Saëns uses the xylophone to imitate the sound of rattling bones as the skeletons dance until the rooster crows at dawn (played by the oboe), at which point they have to return to their graves.

It’s all quite clever, really. If you listen to the piece with these things in mind, it really brings it so much more to life, for a song about the dead. Maybe it’ll even get you up and dancing with your creaky bones too.

– cheerlubber

Antonio Bazzini – La Ronde des lutins

September 23, 2012 — 2 Comments

cheerlubber here and yes, I’m posting on a Sunday! I know I haven’t done a Sunday classical post in a long time–I always want to, but sometimes taking a Sunday nap sounds nicer than writing a Sunday post. Today, though, it shall be done!

This rendition of this lively number composed by 19th-century Italian Antonio Bazzini is by none other than master virtuoso, Itzhak Perlman. After we went to his concert years ago, we bought a 2-disk CD of a lot of short, violin/piano arrangements and I love listening to every single track, multiple times. This song is track number 1 on the second CD and is a great way to start the CD off. It’s fast, exciting, and the little, quick pizzicato notes (plucking of the string), which Perlman seamlessly plays in-between bow strokes, add a little spice to the song. Just something light and whimsical for an enjoyable Sunday afternoon. Hope you enjoy listening to it as much as I do!