Saint Sans Symphony No 3 Organ at Amazon
|
How do you start out a piece of music? That’s a question I’m often times asked. The answer I ordinarily give is that you begin as soon as you begin playing – that is, if you’re attempting to “compose” something, the piece begins the moment it has energy and is something you want to capture. If it’s an improvisation, the piece begins the moment you set your fingers on the keys and hit the initial note. It’s like free flow writing and writing a chapter to a novel. The writer may both improvise and take delight in the procedure or may structure the ideas more – or, as I like to do, combine both procedures into one. I begin out by improvising – always. Then, if I want to memorialize a musical idea, I write down the basi two bars of melody along with the chord(s) I’m playing. I throw this on a chart and voila – the idea remains fresh until I want to either exaggerate on it, or ignore it completely. If the idea is a rhythm pattern I write down (Left hand = whatsoever the pattern is) so I may do not forget it later. I never stop improvising even though because that would stop the flow and who knows what could come out of it. Don’t forget that an improvisation is a piece of music in and of itself. There is actually no need to impose structure on something as pretty and organic as spontaneous expression. In fact, these spur of the moment fantasies are ofttimes more inspiring than any contrived composition. There is something more alive to them because there IS more life to them. Endings pose another problem, namely the problem of when to stop playing. For improvisation, the answer is when energy (inspiration) starts to wane down. That’s a good time to fetch your music to an end. You’ll know when this is happening when you become bored. That’s the sign it’s time to stop. Composition is a dissimilar story. The form of the piece already dictates when you ought to stop. For example, an ABA form tells you to play the A section once or twice, go to B, back to A then fetch the piece to an end. Of course the amount of repetition and contrast is a personal decision but the form establishes both beginning and ending. It’s a nice safe way to say that yes, I have a piece of music here. Now, improvisations may have form as well. The big divergence is that you don’t consciously think in regards to putting the music into a predefined shape. But for numerous unknown reason, most improvisations do have ratio – that is they take on a form of their own. I don’t recognise if this is because of humane beings innate rhythm (heartbeat) or what. Even Zen flute music, which may be the most freely inspired improvisation style around has a heap of structure. You may listen it in the phrases. Beginnings and endings. Don’t worry too much when it comes to them. What’s crucial is where you are with regard to emotions while you play. Become conscious of that and all your troubles are solved. Most helpful customer reviews 35 of 36 people found the following review helpful. 15 of 16 people found the following review helpful. Dukas’ musical career rests on a handful of works, the most famous being the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Made famous by Disney’s Fantasia, this work is truly a masterpiece of the French romantic tradition. Its influence on future composers also makes this a historically important work. Stravinsky, who was a pupil of Dukas, was certainly inspired by this piece in some of his earlier works. While Levine and the Berlin players were quite fine in the symphony, they really deliver the goods here. The opening is appropriately atmospheric, the “broom” theme chuckles nicely, and the large tutti flood and subsequent broom hacking episode are big and boomy but still retain a great deal of transparency. The recapitulation features some stunning work from the brass, and somehow the Berliners sound much more French here than you would have expected. DG’s sonics are clear throughout, although at under 50 minutes, it would have been nice to have included more filler, either another Saint-Saens tone poem, or another french showpiece. There are plenty of good performances of both of these works, but this is a fine version that certainly beats out many of the recent Organ Symphonies, including Eschenbach’s Philadelphia outing, and stands along side the reference editions listed above. There are fewer fine Sorcerer’s Apprentices, but this one is about as fine a performance as you’ll find. A winner. 8 of 8 people found the following review helpful. This recording, with the orcehstra under the baton of Maestro James Levine, and the organ soloist being Simon Preston, is magnificently played. I rate it a superb performance. The balance between the organ and the orchetra is great. No brass overblowing, and no strings making a drudging heavy play. The timpi, especially each different detail of the mighty second-half of the concluding movement (the music you might have heard in the movie “Babe”) is just the way I favor; crisp, smooth, and a perfect timing on ending the piece.
The other recording I own is with Pierre Cochereau on organ, and the conductor being the famous Herbert von Karajan. Yes, that performance is great, but it’s a bit too “heavy”. Karajan was a man who tends to add weight on the orchestra’s sound pretty often, but I didn’t think the Organ Symphony had to be so compressed. At some time, the organ is a bit overpowering the orcehstra. I didn’t quite like the tempi either.
Both recordings is great, but I rather recommend this CD under Levine. |
A towering performance of a magnificent symphony.