Sticky Notes: The Classical Music Podcast

I'm so happy to share this live episode of Sticky Notes that I did with the Aalborg Symphony Orchestra in Denmark back in October! This episode covered Berlioz's remarkable Symphonie Fantastique - the ultimate symphonic thrill ride. Join the orchestra and I as we talk our way through this symphony, from it's opium fueled back story, to its innovative structure and style, to the dreams and reveries of the first movement and the sadistic glee of the final two movements, and a whole lot more. Thank you to the Aalborg Symphony for their participation in this project, and I hope all of you listening have had a wonderful holidays and a Happy New Year! See you in the New Year with all new episodes from Beethoven's Opus 135 String Quartet to Smetana's Ma Vlast and much much more!

Here are two statements by Dmitri Shostakovich about the same piece, the 8th symphony that we are talking about today: Statement No. 1, Shostakovich’s published comments about the symphony when it was first performed in 1943: The 8th Symphony reflects my…elevated creative mood, influenced by the joyful news of the Red Army's victories…. "The Eighth Symphony contains tragic and dramatic inner conflicts. But on the whole it is optimistic and life-asserting. The first movement is a long adagio, with a dramatically tense climax. The second movement is a march, with scherzo elements, and the third is a dynamic march. The fourth movement, in spite of its march form, is sad in mood. The fifth and final movement is bright and gay, like a pastoral, with dance elements and folk motifs. "The philosophical conception of my new work can be summed up in these words: life is beautiful. All that is dark and evil rots away, and beauty triumphs." Statement No. 2, from the disputed book Testimony, published in the 1970s: ‘And then the war came and the sorrow became a common one. We could talk about it, we could cry openly, cry for our lost ones. People stopped fearing tears. Before the war there probably wasn’t a single family who hadn’t lost someone, a father, a brother, or if not a relative, then a close friend. Everyone had someone to cry over, but you had to cry silently, under the blanket, so no one would see. Everyone feared everyone else, and the sorrow oppressed and suffocated us. It suffocated me too. I had to write about it. I had to write a Requiem for all those who died, who had suffered. I had to describe the horrible extermination machine and express protest against it. The Seventh and Eighth Symphonies are my Requiems. I don’t know of a more profound example of Shostakovich’s doublespeak, or of his ability to make diametrically opposing statements about the meaning behind his music.  Shostakovich’s 8th symphony premiered at the height of World War II, and it was not a hit, unlike his 7th symphony which had swept the world with its seeming patriotic fervor and its devastating condemnation of the Nazis. Shostakovich’s 8th is a very different piece, darker, edgier, less catchy, less simple, and certainly less optimistic. It was panned in the Soviet Union by the official critics and was effectively banned from performance in teh Soviet Union from 1948 until the late 1950s. It was also not particularly popular outside of the Soviet Union, as the 7th’s popularity and accessibility dwarfed the 8th, though this equation has now flipped, with the 8th symphony now probably becoming slightly more often played than the 7th. As always with Shostakovich, he mixes tradition with his own Shostakovich-ian innovations. The symphony has a Sonata Form first movement, but that movement is longer than the following three movements combined. It has a darkness to light theme from C Minor to C Major, like in Beethoven’s 5th and Mahler’s 2nd, but whether the ending is optimistic is subject to furious debate. It has not 1 but 2 scherzos, but they are among the least funny scherzos ever written, and it has a slow movement that is surprisingly un-emotional. The requiem Shostakovich speaks of seems to happen slowly over the course of this 1 hour symphony. It is perhaps Shostakovich’s most ambiguous mature symphony, and it is also thought of as one of his greatest masterpieces. Today on this Patreon Sponsored episode, we’ll dive into this remarkable work, trying to create a framework to understand this huge and demanding symphony. Join us!

My Patreon sponsor for this episode, Adrian, set me a challenge: The influence of literary works on classical compositions, exploring pieces inspired by poetry, novels, or plays. He also asked me to do something else, and I’m going to quote him here: Also, if I may add something regarding the episode: It is of course possible to make an episode about the influence of literature on music by simply doing an overview of different works that have some obvious attachment to a work of literature. However, it would be particularly interesting if you could say something more general or principled (or philosophical, if you will) about the relation between literature and music. Why do so many composers write pieces about or inspired by literary works? Does music based on literary works have any distinguishing features compared to other music? Does literature add something to music beyond simply being a subject matter among many possible subject matters?  To attempt an answer at Adrian’s last question, I think the answer is yes, literature(or poetry or theatre) can add something to music beyond being simply a subject matter. I think this is the key reason why music based on literary works is so compelling to us as listeners and why these inspirations have been so fruitful for composers. Of course, I had dozens of masterpieces to choose from when deciding which pieces to talk about in a bit of detail. But in the end, I’ve chosen 5 pieces to discuss today, 3 works based on poetry, and 2 based on a novel. The ways the composers I’m going to talk about manipulated and molded these works of literature or poetry into their music is remarkable, and throughout the show today I’ll try to show you the techniques they used to do this, whether it’s explicitly trying to depict images, like in Strauss’ Don Quixote, or whether the music tries to express some sort of deeper philosophy behind the poems, like in Mahler’s Das Lied von Der Erde. I hope this episode is as fun to listen to as it was fun to research and write! Join us!

The muses were Ancient Greek goddesses of inspiration. Throughout history, the term muse has been used to describe any number of people, all of whom inspired works of great art and/or literature. In the popular imagination, muses are almost always women, inspiring brilliant men to their greatest artistic achievements. Why am I bringing this up? Because in the case of the piece we are going to talk about today, the Brahms Clarinet Quintet, the muse, and the source of inspiration, was very different. In 1890, Brahms retired from composing. In a way this was very rare. Composers very rarely retired, and most went on composing until their deaths, leaving unfinished works, but Brahms declared that he had nothing left to contribute, and that a younger generation should take over. He was only 57 years old, but he had become embittered both with the world of music and with the world as a whole. His 4th symphony had ended in a kind of apocalyptic destruction of the symphonic genre as a whole; a paroxysm of disillusionment with the direction music was going and with the direction of politics in Europe. But in March of 1891, Brahms heard a clarinetist named Richard Muhlfeld. Muhlfeld quickly became, for lack of a better word, Brahms’ muse. His playing directly inspired Brahms to write 4 works for the clarinet, a trio, 2 sonatas, and a quintet, the topic for today’s show. The clarinet quintet is practically the definition of the so-called autumnal Brahms. The clarinet quintet is one of Brahms’ most expansive chamber works, and it is Brahms at his most wistful, nostalgic, and even tragic. Today on the show I’ll take you through this magisterial work, exploring all of the things that make this piece so special, so touching, and so unforgettable. Join us!