This Week in Classical Music: January 20, 2025.  Scriabin and Schloezer, Part III.  Last week, we ended our story in 1905 with Alexander Scriabin and Tatiana Schloezer moving to Bogliasco, Italy, while Vera Scriabin, the composer’s legal wife, remained in Vésenaz, Switzerland, with the children.  A tragedy struck when the eldest daughter, age seven, died later that year.  The heartbroken Scriabin rushed to Vésenaz, staying there for several weeks, while Tatiana was going mad with jealousy in Bogliasco.  She should not have worried, as Scriabin returned to her; and that was the last time he and Vera would meet. 

Soon after, Vasily Safonov, the director of the Moscow Conservatory and a friend of the Scriabins, invited Vera to return to Moscow and join the faculty.  Safonov, an influential cultural figure in Russia, was Scriabin’s teacher and mentor; they fell apart over Scriabin’s affair with Schloezer, Safonov taking Vera’s side.   Vera followed Safonov’s advice, bringing the three children with her (one of them, Lev, would die in 1910, also at the age of seven).  An accomplished pianist, Vera continued to perform, playing, almost exclusively and by all accounts very well, her husband's music.   

In the meantime, Scriabin and Tatiana were living in Bogliasco; Tatiana was pregnant with their first child while Scriabin was working, feverishly, on the Poem of Extasy (Scriabin’s original title was more shocking, Poéme Orgiaque).  Penniless but in good spirits, they often shared one dinner between them.  Some financial help came when Scriabin received an invitation to tour the US.  Safonov was then the music director of the New York Philharmonic, and the relationship between him and Scriabin had improved.   Scriabin arrived in New York in December of 1906.  In the following months, his music was featured in several concerts, with Scriabin soloing his own Piano Concerto and the Philharmonic performing his First and Third Symphonies.  Some pieces were performed by the Russian Symphony Orchestra of New York, founded in 1903 by Scriabin’s friend Modest Altschuler. 

Scriabin’s problems in the US started when Tatiana arrived incognito in New York, though he pleaded with her not to come.  For some time, they lived in separate hotels, but that became expensive, and she moved in with him.  The United States back then was a rather puritanical country: just several months earlier another famous Russian, the writer Maxim Gorky, was kicked out of the same hotel when it became known that his travel companion, the actress Maria Andreeva, was his mistress, not the wife.  Once Tatiana started appearing with Scriabin in public, rumors spread (most likely initiated by the local Russians) that Scriabin was married to another woman.  One March 1907 night, Altschuler came running to their room with the news that in the morning a crowd of reporters was expected at their hotel.  The scandal was imminent as they intended to seek information about Scriabin’s marital status.  The couple fled that very night, borrowing the money for the fare to Europe from Altschuler. 

Soon after arriving in Italy, Scriabin and Tatiana moved to Paris, where he worked on finishing The Poem of Ecstasy, and then to Lausanne.  The Poem was premiered by Altschuler in New York in 1908; in Europe, it received the Glinka Prize, a prestigious award instituted by Mitrofan Belyaev, an industrialist and patron of arts, and named after the famous Russian composer. 

Here is The Poem of Ecstasy, performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Pierre Boulez. 

This Week in Classical Music: January 13, 2025.  v.   Last week, we ended our story in 1902, with Tatiana Schloezer coming to Moscow to meet Scriabin, who was married, by then rather unhappily, to Vera Isakovich, and with whom he already had four children.  Scriabin was taken by Tatiana, who seemed to understand his music in an exalted, spiritual way, as opposed to Vera, who, in Scriabin’s opinion, didn’t appreciate his talent enough.  Tatiana started taking piano lessons at Scriabin’s house, much to Vera’s displeasure.  The Schloezer siblings, Boris and Tatiana, spent much time with the Scriabins, Alexander playing his music while Tatiana praised it extravagantly and rapturously, often standing on her knees.

Scriabin, who had just finished his Second Symphony, was working on the Third, “The Divine Poem,” the most important (and eventually successful) piece to date.  In 1904, with the family situation in trouble, Scriabin suffered another blow: his good friend, benefactor and publisher, Mitrofan Belyaev, died, which drastically changed Scriabin’s financial situation.  With few prospects in Russia, the ambitious Scriabin, who always wanted to “conquer Europe,” left for Geneva, alone, without the family.  A month later, he asked Vera to join him.  With very little money, living in the expensive Geneva was impossible, so they moved to the much cheaper Vésenaz, a village close by.  In the meantime, Scriabin continued writing to Schloezer, eventually asking her to come to Switzerland, which she did without delay, settling in Geneva. 

The relationship between Tatiana and Scriabin was an open secret in Russia, and very soon the rumors reached poor Vera.  Scriabin was ready for a divorce, but to Vera the idea was abhorrent.  With everything in the open, however uncomfortable and embarrassing the situation was, Tatiana used it to resume her musical lessons with Scriabin, coming to the house and staying there for hours, to Vera’s chagrin.   That didn’t last long: Tatiana, who also had little money, had to move to Brussels and stay with her relatives.  With the whole family situation in tatters, Scriabin went to Paris to oversee the premiere of his Third Symphony, which was to be led by Arthur Nikisch, then the principal conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic.  Occasionally he’d visit Tatiana in Brussels.

The long-awaited premiere took place on May 29^th of 1905; it was successful, but not without scandals, musical and social.  Tatiana, on Scriabin’s invitation, came from Brussels, while Vera, unbeknown to the composer, traveled from Switzerland and announced herself after the concert, infuriating Tatiana and compromising Scriabin, who was called, by a local wit, a bigamist.  The critics were divided: some thought the symphony was the new word in contemporary music, others, like Rimsky-Korsakov, hated it.  Financially, however, the symphony brought very little money.

Tatiana moved to Paris with Scriabin while he embarked on a new project, a symphony that would become the “Poem of Extasy.”  Absorbed in composing, he wasn’t earning any money.  Tatiana was pregnant with their first child.  His benefactors couldn’t help much, so the couple decided to move to Italy where life was cheaper.  In June of 1905, they settled in Bogliasco, next to Genoa.  One month later, Alexander and Vera’s elder daughter Rimma died in Vésenaz at the age of seven, and Vera, with three children, returned to Moscow.

We’ll finish the Scriabin-Schloezer story next week.  The Third Symphony (“The Divine Poem”) runs for about 45 minutes.  It’s in three movements.  You can listen to the first movement, Luttes ("Struggles"), here, the second, Voluptés ("Delights"), here, and the third, Jeu divin ("Divine Play"), here.  Or you could listen to the whole thing here.  Michail Pletnev conducts the Russian National Orchestra.

This Week in Classical Music: January 6, 2025.  Scriabin.   We’re not sure if we completely share the enthusiasm of Grove Music, which writes that Alexander Scriabin was “[o]ne of the most extraordinary figures musical culture has ever witnessed, Skryabin has remained for a century a figure of cultish idolatry, reactionary yet modernist disapproval, analytical fascination and, finally, aesthetic re-evaluation and renewal.”  It is clear, though, that Scriabin was very influential, and both his music and his persona evoked passionate reactions; moreover, the cultural life of Russia during his adult life, from the last decade of the 19^th century through 1915, was at its peak, which amplifies Scriabin’s significance. 

Alexander Scriabin (sometimes transliterated as Skryabin) was born in Moscow on January 6^th of 1872 (December 25^th of 1871, Old Style).  Scriabin had a turbulent and complicated life, with ups and downs, both artistic and personal. There's no way we could describe it in any detail in the allotted space, so instead we'll try to untangle his complicated relationship with the Schloezer family and with his wives, relationships that so often intersected. 

The Schloezers were of either German or, as some of Scriabin's friends presumed, Jewish descent. Two brothers, Teodor (Fyodor) and Paul (Pavel) settled in Russia, the former in the provincial city of Vitebsk, the latter in Moscow.  Teodor became a successful lawyer, while Paul, a pianist, became, sometime around 1892, a professor at the Moscow Conservatory.  With his French wife, Teodor had two children, Boris and Tatiana.  We don’t know anything about Paul’s children, but what we do know is that among his pupils were Leonid Sabaneyev, who would become an important music critic and Scriabin’s good friend, Elena Gnessin, a founder of several music schools, and one Vera Isakovich, Scriabin’s future wife.  Vera, an accomplished pianist, was one of Professor Schloezer’s favorite students and for a while even lived in his house.  In 1892, Scriabin graduated from the Moscow Conservatory with a Little Gold Medal, as opposed to his rival Rachmaninov’s Great Gold Medal, mostly because of Alexander’s disagreements with Anton Arensky, a composer and Conservatory professor.  

In his youth Scriabin had many affairs, some pretty scandalous; he met Vera Isakovich through Paul Schloezer in 1897.  By then Scriabin was a struggling composer and a successful pianist.  Vera and Alexander married, against the wishes of his family, in April of that year; he was 25 years old, she was 22. 

In the meantime, Tatiana Schloezer, who was 11 years younger than Scriabin (she was born in 1883), grew up in Vitebsk, learned to play the piano, and fell in love with Scriabin’s music -- so much so that she would play only his compositions and nothing else.  Sabaneyev also remembers seeing her at the Moscow house of Paul Schloezer while Vera was living there.  In the meantime, Vera and Alexander’s marriage was having difficulties, mostly, in Alexander’s mind, on account of Vera not appreciating his music – and his genius – deeply enough.   In 1902, Boris Schloezer and his sister Tatiana were staying in a hotel in Moscow (Tatiana, then 19, came with the specific goal of meeting Scriabin).  Boris invited Alexander, who played his new compositions late into the night; Tatiana announced that she wanted to be his pupil.  Later into the night, they moved to Scriabin’s house where Alexander continued to play; he was taken by Tatiana's deep understanding of his music.  Sometime later Scriabin wrote a letter to Paul Schloezer praising his children and how happy he was to have met them. 

We’ll stop here, even though we understand where this is leading.  We’ll finish this story, just a small part of Scriabin’s biography, next week.  In the meantime, some of Scriabin’s music from around that time.  Soon after their marriage, Alexander and Vera moved to Paris, where he started working on his Third Piano Sonata.  Here it is, in the 1988 performance of Grigory Sokolov.   

This Week in Classical Music: December 30, 2024.  New Year.   New Year’s Day is Wednesday of this week, and we wish all our listeners a very happy New Year.  We often celebrate the end of the year with the music of the great composers of the High Renaissance, as we’ll do this year.  This time we present the music of four: Palestrina, Orlando di Lasso, Tomás Luis de Victoria, and Giovanni Gabrieli, all born within less than 30 years of each other.  All four worked in Italy but only two were Italian, one of them the great Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, born in 1525.   We’ll hear a Magnificat by Palestrina, who wrote 35 versions of this hymn.  Magnificat is the Virgin Mary’s praise of her Son, it forms part of the Vespers service.  Here’s Palestrina’s Magnificat quinti toni (for five voices), published in 1591.  The British Enselmble The Sixteen is conducted by its founder, Harry Christophers.

Orlando di Lasso (his name is often spelled Orlando Lassus) was born in the Flemish town of Mons in 1530 or 1532.  Ferrante Gonzaga, of the Mantuan Gonzaga family, hired Orlando, then aged 12, while visiting the Low Countries.  He brought him to Mantua in 1545.  For the following 10 years, Orlando stayed in Italy, first in Sicily and Naples, then in Rome.  Even though the rest of his life was spent at the Bavarian court in Munich, Orlando visited Italy several times.  Here’s his motet Da Pacem Domine, performed by the German Alsfeld Vocal Ensemble, Wolfgang Helbich conducting.

The Spaniard Tomás Luis de Victoria was born in Avila in 1548.  When he was 15, he was sent to Rome’s Jesuit Collegio Germanico; later, already an established composer, he would teach there.  Victoria stayed in Rome till 1583 and then returned to Spain and spent the rest of his life in the service of Dowager Empress María, the wife of Charles V.  In 1605 he composed Officium Defunctorum, a setting which includes a Requiem Mass, Missa pro defunctis, one of the greatest achievements of Renaissance music.  Here is Versa est in luctum from the setting.  David Hill leads the Westminster Cathedral Choir.

Giovanni Gabrieli, a nephew of another great composer, Andrea Gabrieli, was born in Venice in 1554.  He worked at the tail end of the Renaissance when some, often minor, composers experimented with what would become the Baroque.  Like his uncle, Giovanni was a student of Orlando di Lasso: he went to Munich and stayed at Duke Albrecht V's court for several years while Orlando was in charge of music-making there.  In 1585 Giovanni returned to Venice and became the principal organist at the San Marco Basilica; a year later was appointed the principal composer at the church, the musical center of Venice.  The unique acoustics of San Marco were used by many Venetian composers, and Gabrieli in his motet Hodie Christus Natus Est for eight voices created wonderful effects, using two choirs positioned on the opposite sides of the nave.  And San Marco is where this particular recording was made.  E. Power Biggs is the organist, and the Edward Tarr Brass Ensemble is conducted by Vittorio Negri.

This Week in Classical Music: December 23, 2024.  Christmas.  While this is not the time to read boring entries about composers and performers, it’s definitely worth listening to some good music of the season (and we don’t mean the tiresome Christmas carols).  Georg Philipp Telemann wrote some very good music.  His output was enormous, and naturally, some compositions were better than others.  He wrote around 1,700 cantatas (yes, this is not a misprint), of which 1,400 are extant; among those are several Christmas cantatas.  He also wrote many oratorios of different sorts: Passion oratorios (starting in 1722 he wrote a St Matthew Passion oratorio every four years – Bach, as we know, wrote just one, but of a different caliber), other sacred oratorios and secular ones as well.  Inevitably, there was music for Christmas, for example, the oratorio Die Hirten an der Krippe zu Bethlehem (“The Shepherds at the Crib in Bethlehem”), which Telemann composed in 1759.  By then, his friend Johann Sebastian Bach had been dead for nine years, the Classical style was in vogue and contemporary critics considered Telemann’s (as well as Bach’s) music outdated.  But as we listen to it today, it becomes apparent that this oratorio is a wonderful piece, and, while not as grand as Bach’s Christmas Oratorio, it is colorful, inventive and charming on a smaller scale.  You can listen to it here.  Ludger Rémy conducts the Telemann-Kammerorchester (Telemann Chamber Orchestra), Kammerchor Michaelstein and the soloists.  The recording was made in the Michaelstein Abbey (Kloster Michaelstein in German) in 1996.  The abbey was founded in the 10^th century and now houses a music institute.

This Week in Classical Music: December 16, 2024.  Beethoven and more.  Today is the birthday of Ludwig van Beethoven, and it’s a relief to celebrate it this year: gone, or mostly gone is the insanity of 2020 when the gender and the color of a composer became the determinant of his (and especially her) value.  In 2020 Beethoven became one of the white, male and mostly dead bunch, and for that, wasn’t considered to be worth much.  We still remember the infamous “musicology” article titled “Beethoven was an above-average composer: let’s leave it that.”  Fortunately, in 2020 Beethoven is back to being one of the greatest, occupying an enormous space in the musical culture of Europe and the world.  One of his most profound compositions was the piano sonata no. 29, op. 106 nicknamed “Hammerklavier,” one of the greatest piano sonatas ever written.  It was composed from the fall of 1817 through the first half of 1818, after a period when Beethoven’s output was unusually slim.  Hammerklavier is unusually long, running about 40 to 45 minutes (the slow third movement alone takes from 15 to 25 minutes, depending on the performer – about 20 minutes in the version we’re about to hear), and was by far the longest piano piece written up to that time.  Despite its length, it is intense from the beginning to the end, full of amazing musical ideas, and is never dull.  As this sonata is one of the most important pieces in the piano repertoire, practically all great (and many not-so-great) pianists tackled it during their careers.  Thus, we are left with many remarkable performances of which it’s impossible to select the “best” one (or even ten).  Here is the great Soviet pianist Emil Gilels, in a 1983 recording (his contemporary and competitor Sviatoslav Richter’s interpretation is also excellent).  And let’s make one thing clear: Florence Price, for all her obvious gifts, didn’t come even remotely close to creating something as profound and significant, all accolades from the woke musicologists and media aside.

We’ve been recently reminded by one of the listeners that we’ve never written about Rodion Shchedrin.  What can we say?  We admit to being prejudiced, and that’s the reason why we’ve never posted an entry about Shchedrin.  His rendition of Bizet’s Carmen, which he created for his wife, the ballerina assoluta Maya Plisetskaya, is very good, though we still think that his main life achievement was to be married to her for 57 years (Plisetskaya was seven years his older).  Shchedrin was born on this day 91 years ago in Moscow.  He studied the piano and composition at the Moscow Conservatory.  In 1973 he succeeded Shostakovich as the chairman of the Composers’ Union of the Russian Federation.  He composed in many genres, from the opera (he wrote seven of them) to ballet music, symphonies, concertos for orchestra and individual instruments, vocal music and piano works.  Much of it has been recorded and you can hear it on YouTube and streaming services.

Rosalyn Tureck, a great interpreter of the music of Back, was born 110 years ago, on December 14^th of 1914 in Chicago.  Ida Haendel, the wonderful violinist, was born on December 15^th of 1928 in Chelm, Poland.  She won the Warsaw Conservatory gold medal and the first Huberman Prize for playing Beethoven’s Violin Concerto at the age of five (yes, it’s not a typo; at nine she played the same concerto in London on her tour of the country).   And Fritz Reiner, one of the greatest conductors of the 20^th century, was born in Budapest on December 19^th of 1888.   He, and later another Hungarian Jewish conductor, Georg Solti, made the Chicago Symphony into one of the best orchestras in the world, something the orchestra board seems intent on dismantling.