In Memoriam Carlos Kleiber

Carlos Kleiber, 1930–2004: On July 13, in a little Slovenian village named Konjšica, died one of the most exciting, one of the greatest conductors that classical music ever knew.

To lump Carlos Kleiber together by saying "one of the..." is already doing him injustice, too unique was this son of the conducting great Erich Kleiber. To describe his repertoire as narrow would be euphemistic: he conducted the same works over and over, to the point of obsession. Brahms's 2nd, Beethoven's 5th and 7th, Schubert's 3rd, Tristan, Die Fledermaus, La Traviata, and Der Rosenkavalier. Not because he had to (from the 70s on he didn't hold fixed positions as conductor of an orchestra or opera house), but because he wanted to.

Herbert von Karajan, who thought Carlos Kleiber to be a genius, said once—not entirely without malice—that it was too bad that such a great musician didn't really like music. This was, in part, a comment on the notorious difficulties that were involved in getting Kleiber to conduct at all. Allegedly, responding to Karajan asking him why he did not conduct more, Kleiber said that he conducted only when his freezer was empty. Kleiber's genius had him recognized as the most exciting conductor of his time, especially after Bernstein was dead. He was offered almost anything (unlimited rehearsals, any amount of money) to conduct—and seldom did.

Kleiber was difficult, gratuitously so, it seemed, and he was almost autistic in his shyness (Wolfgang Sawallisch reports having to push timid Carlos unto the podium, wherefrom on, once he was on it, everything went just fine), and he undoubtedly was influenced by his Über-Father, Erich, who did everything to discourage his son from a conducting career. Like many a musical genius (and some who think they are), Carlos Kleiber seemed driven to "non-functionality," as Joachim Kaiser from the Süddeutsche Zeitung puts it. Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli and, to a lesser degree, Glenn Gould come to mind.

Claudio Abbado thought Kleiber the best Tristan conductor, even before Bayreuth, in 1974, got to see, hear, breathe the magic that Kleiber unfolded on the 'Green Hill'. Tristan und Isolde transfigured Kleiber, Wolfgang Sander from the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung reports of Kleiber being described as suddenly growing during an Tristan performance, his limbs seemingly extending; Kleiber transfigured. And the Wagner opera he so loved brought him to the brink of collapse on several reported occasions.

If Bernstein knew how to begin a work, Kleiber knew how to end one. Which, with his unsurpassed sense of musical architecture, was one of the reasons why critics were so effusive in finding neologisms of praise for him (or leaving their column blank, declaring a Brahms E-minor symphony so "complete" that they were at a loss for words). The end of a work, the beginning of memory, and the point from which a successful journey can be judged... Now we are with Carlos Kleiber himself at that point. He died and was buried on his mother-in-law's estate in Konjšica, age 74. Blessed are those with memories of live performances, but even those who rely on the handful of outstanding recordings available can look back and see that this, for all the incongruencies, was one of the most successful journeys any musician had ever undertaken.

See also: The Legacy of Carlos Kleiber on Disc

Dip Your Ears, No. 7 (Tristan und Isolde with Thielemann)

R.Wagner Tristan und Isolde Moser, Voigt, et al. Thielemann, VStOp Orchestra DG, 2004

Thielemann's Tristan

Another Tristan from Universal Classics, this time the May 2003 (live) account from the Vienna State Opera that was rightly hailed for the debut of Deborah Voigt as the first American Isolde in Vienna. The cast is, for modern times, quite outstanding: Petra Lang is a most splendid Brangäne, Thomas Moser not a strong but convincing Tristan, Robert Holl a very fine Marke. But more than anything else, this is about Thielemann and his relationship with the Vienna forces that respond with their best playing to this conductor, who has had few equals in the late German Romantic repertoire.

Munich must be salivating to have him take on their Philharmonic [Ed. alas, not for that long], continuing the tradition that had its sumptuous glory honed by the late Celibidache before James Levine (now in Boston) took over. Thielemann makes Wagner glow and bristle that it is a joy. The recording, live as it is, is marred by some uneven balances—the choir especially is set rather far back compared to all studio recordings and other live accounts—and the stage noises, contributing at times, can be distracting at other times. The fine Tristan this is, it does not replace among modern recordings my cherished Barenboim version with Waltraud Meier, Siegfried Jerusalem, Marijana Lipovsek, etc.. As far as live versions go, Karl Böhm's recording (also on three CDs) with Birgit Nilsson and Wolfgang Windgassen holds out. Furtwängler's, too, is still a Tristan to listen to, despite its age, especially in its new cheap EMI edition. To explore either Thielemann's or Voigt's artistry, this is a great set to have, and if you have only this Tristan in your collection, you aren't off badly at all, either.

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Ionarts in Manchester: Baroque Music Conference

The reason that I came to Manchester was to take part in a round table presentation on the Ballet de la délivrance de Renault, performed for the first and only time in January 1617 in the royal residence of the Louvre. Although our session was the first one on the first day of the biennial Baroque Music Conference, held this time here in Manchester, we received a surprisingly good number of listeners. This work is a ballet de cour, a court ballet that featured roles danced by the King of France, Louis XIII, and thirteen of his court noblemen, as well as a host of professional dancers and musicians. I am presently in the final stages of completing an edition of the music for this ballet, to be published by the Centre de Musique Baroque in Versailles. In addition, I have joined with a team of scholars from New Zealand, France, and the United States to publish a book of essays, on a range of topics concerning this ballet. Four of us came to Manchester this summer to present some of our findings and discuss a number of issues relating to our work.

Georgie Durosoir first presented a paper on the epics of Tasso and Ariosto, and particularly how a story from Tasso's Gerusalemme liberata was adapted for our ballet. Georgie has already published an excellent book on the air du cour (L'air de cour en France, 1571–1655, shown here), or French court song, of which there are eight examples in our ballet, and her new book on the court ballet in 17th-century France (Les ballets de la cour de France au XVIIe siècle) will appear this year. I gave a short paper on the noble participants in the ballet, many of whom had not been previously identified. Peter Walls spoke about the numerous problems involved in editing the musical sources for the ballet, particularly the music for dancing. Greer Garden presented her theories on the two versions of the ballet, for there are two sources presenting the content of the work that vary from one another significantly. Greer also read a contribution from Kate van Orden, who is interested in the role of ballet as an artistic sublimation of violence in 17th-century French society. Kate's new book, of which I have read a chapter, will appear soon.

In addition to our final work on publishing these two books, the team is involved in trying to find a place and group to perform the ballet. Hopefully, I will be able to tell you more about that soon.

Go to Part 2.

Ionarts in Manchester: The Editor Has Rights

Available from Amazon: Michel-Richard de Lalande, Te deum, Venite exultemus, Panis angelicus, and La Grande Pièce Royale (Ex Cathedra Chamber Choir and Baroque Orchestra, conducted by Jeffrey Skidmore)

This is an issue that perhaps only the musicological world cares about (also covered by John Wall at newolde.com), but there was a thread of messages on the e-mail list of the American Musicological Society last week about, of all things, a legal settlement. Baroque music historian Lionel Sawkins has won a settlement against Hyperion Records (here is the court document from July 1), which released a recording of music by Michel-Richard de Lalande (Music for the Sun-King, shown at right), from October 2001. Lionel is the leading scholar on Lalande's music and naturally was involved in planning a festival of Lalande's music at Versailles (hosted by the Centre de Musique Baroque in 2001), and he claims that he had discussed making a recording with Jeffrey Skidmore as far back as 1999. The group was going to use new editions of these four works, which Lionel is preparing for the complete works edition of Lalande's music. Lionel sent advance versions of the scores to Jeffrey Skidmore in August 2001.

So far, the story is little different from that of any other recording involving early music, which usually involves musicologists rescuing works from historical oblivion. However, what then happened was that Lionel tried to get Hyperion to sign an agreement crediting him as the editor of the scores and agreeing to pay him royalties. The company refused to sign it, in spite of the attempt by Mr. Skidmore to mediate the dispute, but went ahead and made the recording. In its defense, Hyperion maintains a long-held policy that it does not pay copyright royalties "in respect of musical works which are deemed to be out of copyright by virtue of their age." Lionel Sawkins, they claim, is not the composer of the music.

The nature of the lawsuit required the judge to get into some detail regarding the business of what musicologists do. With the help of an advising expert, the judge who wrote the lengthy judgment goes into a sometimes measure-by-measure analysis of the recording and what they must have taken from Lionel's edition, which required some reconstruction of certain parts. For three of the four pieces, the judge sided with Lionel and believes that Hyperion has infringed on his copyright as an editor. There has not been a judgment yet to determine the damages to be awarded, but reports vary between at least £500,000 and over £1 million.

Lionel showed up at the Baroque conference here in Manchester and was given a half-hour yesterday at 2:00 (here is the abstract), to talk about the settlement and what he thinks it means. He may have expected a conference of musicologists to be ecstatic at the thought of a record company being forced to pay editors for original editions, but there was a lot of trepidation expressed in the discussion time about what this will mean for the future of early music recording. At a time when the audience for this sort of recording is already declining, what effect will such a large settlement have? I don't have any answer, but I can see both sides of the issue. The best possible outcome would have been for Hyperion to sign the royalty agreement (which would have meant paying Lionel a couple thousand pounds by most estimates) or just not to make the recording. As that is not what happened, we have an ugly situation, but I imagine that the issue of what edition early music performers are using is going to be much more important for record companies from now on.

Newspaper articles on this story:

Terry Grimley, Hyperion Records Loses Legal Battle with Musicologist Over Copyright for 300-Year-Old Works, Birmingham Post, July 13

Leo Benedictus, Copyright ruling was 'wrong', The Guardian, July 8

Martin Cullingford, Copyright royalties are due on editions of 18th century music, rules judge, Gramophone, July 8

Dalya Alberge and Lewis Smith, Record firms face multimillion-pound bill as music experts settle an old score, The Times (London), July 6

Jan Colley, Music Expert Wins CD Copyright Court Battle, The Scotsman, July 1

Ionarts in Manchester: Holy Cow!

So I arrived in Manchester for the Baroque conference (lots more about that later this week) on Wednesday, although I've still been publishing Paris posts. I haven't exactly seen a lot of this city, but I have noticed that, while Washington has its damnable pandas, Manchester has a similar manifestation of what Marja-Leena Rathje has so aptly called Public Art Fauna (as noted by Marja-Leena, Anna Conti wonders Is It Art?), called the Manchester Cow Parade. Apparently, it has already befouled other cities around the world. There are cows on some of the buildings of the campus of the Royal Northern College of Music, where the conference is taking place, and a cow smoking a cigarette, displayed on a revolving dais, over the entrance to the place where I am blogging right now.

A colleague walked over to the Manchester Museum this morning, which I may do tomorrow before heading to Wales for a couple days and then the trip back to the United States. I had quite an adventure on the never predictable trains of British Rail, getting from the airport to the conference site. However, if I can just remember to look to the right first before crossing the street (not to the left, which won't help you here, obviously), I will not end my days crushed under a British vehicle.

Dip Your Ears, No. 6

L.v.Beethoven, Piano Concerto no.4, Symphony no.2 (chamber versions), Robert Levin Archiv

Another disc of standard Beethoven repertoire? Geez, what could be so special about the nth recording of the 2nd Symphony and the 4th Piano Concerto? Well, for starters, the fact that these are the Beethoven-transcribed versions for piano trio and piano sextet! They're not well known, but if the 2nd Symphony had never been written, this piano trio version of it would be a regular guest in concert halls around the world, hailed as one of the finest trios ever written, together with the Archduke and the Ghost. Beethoven himself had a hand in finishing that transcription, and the Piano Concerto was transcribed entirely by him.

The playing is impeccable with Robert Levin, a period performance specialist, on a Hammerflügel and the first chairs of the Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique backing him up. (Robert Levin was also the soloist for the rightly acclaimed Gardiner/ORR survey of Beethoven's complete piano concertos.) This is joyous chamber music that sounds eerily familiar, and it adds both to the smaller, more intimate genre as well as to one's understanding and appreciation of the larger works that stood model for them. These are not the makeshift transcriptions that were common in times when larger works could hardly be heard by a wider public, and they sure deserve a listen.

Ionarts in Paris: More Thoughts on Fahrenheit 9/11

As mentioned yesterday, I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 in Paris, at the legendary Max Linder Panorama (24, bd Poissonière). Given the film's reputation as a full-out attack on the Bush family and the latest war in Iraq, I was worried that Michael Moore had traded in his accustomed irreverent tone for a more serious documentary approach. While there are parts of the movie that are far from funny, I at least was relieved to discover that the Moore voice, which narrates the film, and sense of humor are very much present in his latest work. In fact, I think that Michael Moore may be, in a sense other than the truly literary one, the inheritor of Voltaire and Diderot, who also were remarkably gifted at using over-the-top satire, which can be in the right hands the most powerful political weapon.

I am less concerned than Michelle (see her post from June 26) about the truth of the story Moore is peddling. There are some who think that the film is a starkly realistic portrayal of the Bush administration and its exploits. Indeed, in response to critics of the truthfulness of his movie, Michael Moore has made available online his fact-checking notes for the film. There are others who will spin the film as a biased piece of propaganda (a word, I agree with David Nishimura who wrote so wisely on this at Cronaca, that has little meaning when used by politicians). Big news anchors and news organizations in general are harping on the fact that the movie is not journalism, as if it should be or ever meant to be. This is probably mostly just resentment of the fact that Moore rubs their noses in the error-ridden coverage of the 2000 election, showing big news anchors like Tom Brokaw, Ted Koppel, and Dan Rather admitting the mistake about calling Florida. We also see them, in embedded battle gear gushing about being brought along to play war with the big boys in the desert. Excuse me, but whose coverage is biased?

The "truth" of Moore's film is probably somewhere in between those two opposing views. Anyone who decides to vote in November's election solely on the basis of believing or not believing Moore's film is a fool. It's a movie, and by itself it provides no reason either to run out and become a Democratic activist (the Democrats are heavily criticized by Moore, and rightly so, for their pathetic opposition to the certification of the 2000 election and to the Patriot Act, as well as for actually voting for the Iraq war) or to delay the November election (I read somewhat confusing reports about this while I was in France).

What the film does provide is a list of points that I, at least, needed to remember. The first part of the film brings back to mind how tenuous President Bush's mandate was in the 2000 election. Not that the election was stolen, because one of many possible legitimate processes played out to decide it. This sequence, near the film's opening, is one of the most damning in the film, in my opinion. As I watched the film, I didn't remember this scene happening at all (although there is the coverage on the screen, from C-SPAN), but whether it was not fully reported by the media or whether I had tuned out of the news coverage from post-election fatigue by that point, I can't say. With Vice-President Gore presiding as President of the Senate over a joint session of both legislative houses, representatives from Florida and other states try to voice objections to the certification of the election for George Bush. All they need is to submit the objection in writing and to have the signature of at least one senator, but not one of them can find just a single senator to help them. Any Democrat who really thinks that the election was "stolen" should complain, not to President Bush, but to any Democratic senator, only of one of whom would have had to do nothing but sign his or her name to the numerous objections to the election's certification, brought by mostly African-American congressional representatives.

Elected officials from both sides and most of the electorate, myself included, approach the question of war and its impact in a dishonest way, because the United States now has armed forces comprised solely of volunteers. If military service were mandatory for all young men and women, it would mean that the people who went to fight wars for the United States would represent a much larger percentage of the electorate. This would make our support or opposition to war a much more honest affair. There will be times when we need to wage war, but we would not make such a terrible decision believing that, well, the soldiers signed up for this so I guess it's alright. In one humorous scene, Michael Moore hands out armed forces literature to members of Congress, encouraging them to have their children volunteer to fight in the war that they have all voted to support. Later, in the most tragic sequence in the movie, Moore follows the life of Lila Lipscomb, who encourages young people from disadvantaged backgrounds in Moore's ravaged home town of Flint, Michigan, to join the armed forces. She comes from a military family and is proud that her children have served as well. Then she gets the worst news possible, that her own son has been killed in Iraq. As she reads his last letter, in which he wonders why the hell he is even in Iraq, it's absolutely heartbreaking. This is a patriotic woman, who stands for everything that is good about Americans. When she comes to Washington, she goes to the White House, and a callous woman, who thinks that Moore is staging something, tells her, "Well, you're not the only one. You should blame Al-Qaeda." Whatever you do, please, do not say that combination of words to a mother who has lost her child.

The other area where we have not really been honest is in understanding the impact of the war on Iraqis. The Department of Defense, by embedding reporters as they did, seduced the American media into a very compliant stance. We have not been allowed to see much footage of Iraqi civilians wounded and killed or of Americans, soldiers or civilians, who have been casualties. I thank Michael Moore for remedying that with this film. I needed to see some footage of children playing in Baghdad and of mothers losing children in American "precision bombing" so that the war cannot, in my mind, seem to take place solely on one of those computerized maps you see on the American news networks. War is terrible, and we should always remember that, so that we do not resort to war except when there is no other choice. Unfortunately, the war in Iraq was sold to the American public on the basis of false information.

One thing that Michael Moore does not skewer in the film, which he certainly could have, is how the Bush administration, because of the war in Iraq, has squandered the incredible amount of international good will toward the United States. I imagined a sequence showing first, in the days after September 11, 2001, the band of the Garde Républicaine at the Elysée Palace in Paris, playing the Star-Spangled Banner and Jacques Chirac saying, "Nous sommes tous américains." The scene could be reproduced in some form in most international capitals. The world was on our side. We have not even reached the third anniversary of that horrible day, and we are in a situation that is directly in contrast. Not only has President Bush completely alienated most of the world's population, but by using the September 11 attacks as a justification for the Iraq war (dishonestly, as it turns out), he has turned the events of that day from something deserving sympathy and shared horror to something used callously only to give legitimacy to actions disguised as defensive. See the movie, because it's good, but don't vote based on what you see.

Film in Paris

One thing is certain: you will never lack for cultural things to do in Paris. I have not even mentioned the cinema here since my arrival, but I’m several days behind in writing about all the things I’ve seen, so the Paris posts will continue for some time. Right now, the city of Paris is hosting the second year of its film festival, Paris Cinéma, which began on June 30 and will conclude on July 13, just before I leave. I picked up the program while seeing Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11 at the Max Linder Panorama (24, boulevard Poissonière, in the 9th). More about that another time. The festival’s program bears a short introduction from Bertrand Delanoë, the mayor of Paris (as I wrote yesterday, each arrondissement has a mayor, but over them is one official, the Maire de Paris).

This new festival is described as a balade estivale (summer walk), featuring 400 films in 30 cinemas (including the Max Linder, a true Paris cinematic institution), all around Paris, which anyone can see for the price of 4€, under half the cost of a normal full-price ticket these days, and only 3€ for children under 12. Costa-Gavras is the president of the festival, and actor Jean-Paul Belmondo helped to officiate at the opening ceremony. Le cinéma d’aujourd’hui focuses on films of our own time, including a series of films from recent international festivals. The Forum des Images, based here in Paris, held its own festival, Les Rencontres internationales de cinéma à Paris from July 2 to 11, and there is a series on experimental films from the Collectif Jeune Cinéma and PointLignePlan.

Le cinéma de toujours presents great films of the past, including a series at the Saint-Germain-des-Prés (off the Place Saint-Germain-des-Prés, in the 6th) on Jean-Paul Belmondo, le Magnifique, he of the ultrawide cigarettes in the classic À bout de souffle (1959), directed by Jean-Luc Godard on a screenplay by François Truffaut. Other series feature American director Oliver Stone, Argentine director Fernando Solanas, Korean director Chung Chang-wha, French actress Karin Viard, French director Claude Sautet, Chinese films (part of the Année de la Chine, mentioned in a previous post), musical comedies from Hollywood to Bollywood, European documentaries (including series on French director Agnès Varda and Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski), rock and cinema, films on Paris from the Cinémathèque Française, and a series of "unforgettable French films shown with English subtitles." I hope that the target audience for that last one, English-speaking tourists who descend on Paris in the summer, took advantage of it. The program is presented first in French, and then partially in English, but I didn't actually get a copy until after being in Paris several days and going out of my way to obtain it. Next year, they should hand these things directly to tourists as they get off planes at the airports. What really made the festival a success last summer were the projections en plein air, in which films are shown on huge outdoor screens in the Parvis de l’Hôtel de Ville (the Paris town hall, in the 4th) and in the Senate Gardens (by the Jardin du Luxembourg, in the 6th). There are also some hosted walks on themes taken from cinematic greats shot in Paris.

If that has left your head spinning, it will only get worse when you hear that the Cinémathèque Française is also showing two special program of films this summer, in addition to its participation in Paris Cinéma: Révisons nos classiques (Let’s re-examine our classics, at the Palais de Chaillot) and Vive les vacances! (Long live vacation!, at the Grands Boulevards), both from June 30 to September 5. The first series takes up the long-held mission of the Cinémathèque Française, from the time of Langlois, to keep the classics of cinematic history alive by showing them, and its importance to young directors living in Paris for many years, like Truffaut and many others, makes all of their efforts worthwhile. In 1998, a fire endangered the home of the Cinémathèque Française, in the Palais de Chaillot (7, avenue Albert-de-Mun, in the 16th), although the other base of operations, in the 10th (42, boulevard de Bonne Nouvelle), not far from the Max Linder and that other great Paris cinema, Le Grand Rex (1, boulevard Poissonière), was not affected. According to the introduction to their program, by general director Serge Toubiana, the Cinémathèque Française will move its employees and its precious library to a new building in Bercy in the coming months. Their new home, built by (who else?) Frank Gehry, will open to the public in September 2005.

Both programs are filled with great movies, some of which I have seen, but a shocking number I have not seen or even heard of before. This must have been a difficult process to select a program of classics, and I will be getting as many of these films into my Netflix queue as I can. The second program, on the theme of vacation, is more light-hearted (National Lampoon’s Vacation and Les Bronzés font du ski appear alongside Otto Preminger’s Bonjour Tristesse and Jean Renoir’s Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe). If you think your vacation was ruined this year, consider that Jaws, Evil Dead, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Dead Calm are all, technically, vacation movies and, yes, they are on the program. So, just when I think I have gone too far in filling up every waking hour here with things to see and hear, I always realize that I would need many more hours to see everything I want to, let alone everything that I could.