Fascinating snippets from Musical Times archive

[lukeottevanger]

Selected obituaries of great and less well-known musicians.

Very interesting reading indeed, not just factually, but in that it gives us a feeling of the death of composer x as a fresh and painful item of news. Also gives us interesting contemporary perspectives.

[Sergeant Rock]

Selected obituaries of great and less well-known musicians.

Very interesting reading indeed, not just factually....

Or not so factually:

"Mahler wrote in all eight symphonies, the last of which employs a choir for the singing of the 'Veni Creator Spiritus' and a portion of Goethe's 'Faust.' His other works include 'Humoresken' for orchestra and a cantata 'Das Klagende Lied.'"



Sarge

[lukeottevanger]

And Scriabin wrote three piano sonatas (despite the fact that earlier the article says he wrote 5...!) I think that Scriabin one is a gem, btw. But so are many of the ones for the more major figures

[(poco) Sforzando]

Selected obituaries of great and less well-known musicians.

Very interesting reading indeed, not just factually, but in that it gives us a feeling of the death of composer x as a fresh and painful item of news. Also gives us interesting contemporary perspectives.

Delicious examples:


In recording with regret the death, on the 11th ult., at Vienna, of Dr. Anton Bruckner, we are aware that to many amateurs in this country the remarkable Austrian composer, if not heard of for the first time, will be little more than a name. And yet it is a name around which some fierce, if bloodless, battles have been fought on the Continent. ... Three movements of a Ninth Symphony are said to have been completed at the time of his death.

Deep regret will be felt among musicians of all countries at the death of GUSTAV MAHLER, which occurred at Vienna on May 18. He was born at Kallocht, in Bohemia, on July 7, 1860, and studied at Iglau, Prague, and at Vienna University. ... Although Mahler was one of the foremost musicians of his day, he was little known to the public in England. Two of his symphonies have been performed at the Queen's Hall, London, Promenade concerts, but they failed to win popularity. The English public were apathetic to his music probably because his naïveté of expression did not stir them and his high endeavour and scholarship, although doubtless admired, made no deep appeal; in the case of the symphonies a further obstacle to acceptance was their length. Mahler wrote in all eight symphonies, the last of which employs a choir for the singing of the 'Veni Creator Spiritus' and a portion of Goethe's 'Faust.'... As a conductor he was universally considered one of the greatest of his generation.

Of the greatness of Schoenberg's mind, there can be no doubt. The aesthetic value of his compositions and his ultimate position in musical history, only future generations (more receptive and less complacent than ours, perhaps) will be able to assess.

Writing as above, I have taken no note of the fact that, in England especially, and more or less everywhere, Verdi's operas have gone out of fashion. That does not touch the question of their work; fashions come and go, and neither their coming is evidence for the temporarily favoured nor their going testimony against the cast off. The higher tribunal – the final court of appeal, where sit as judges the wise and prudent of every nation – that alone decides upon value. To those judges, who are unaffected by mere vogue, the position of Verdi among dramatic composers must be committed. They will say of him, or I am miserably mistaken, that not only was he a sincere and devoted musician, but also that he achieved great things, that every note of passion, every shade of sentiment finds in his works true and natural expression. To say this truthfully of any composer is to crown him with unfading laurels.

The death of Hector Berlioz, which took place in Paris during the past month, will have but little effect upon art or artists; for, although in music he thought as deeply, and worked as earnestly, as any who have left an immortal name, his compositions never took a permanent hold upon the public mind. His best works are two Symphonies, Harold in Italy, and Romeo and Juliet, which although filled with undoubted proofs of fragmentary talent, are now but little known. He had a thorough command of orchestral resources, and an instinctive perception of all that was beautiful in art; but there can be little doubt that he will be more remembered by his able and acute contributions to musical criticism than by any of the compositions with which he hoped to revolutionize the world.

[lukeottevanger]

I quite like this (my italics):

There are so many names in the golden book of musicians – Mozart, Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Bizet, and Goetz, to mention no others – that inspire unquenchable regret, as one speculates on what they might have done, that we ought to be doubly thankful for the gift of those who have been spared to deliver their message; whose genius has reached its full maturity, and who have passed away before any sign of weakness or senility was apparent in their work. Such reflections may perhaps help to mitigate that natural grief aroused by the death of Johannes Brahms

though given that I have been exploring the impressive music of Goetz quite a bit recently, I am not dismayed to see him here.

Unlike some artists, he was genuinely interested in other people's work, and surprisingly appreciative of music very far removed from his. I remember him playing me the records of Boulez's Le Marteau sans Maître with which he was already familiar when that work was much less well-known than it is today.

This one brings home the immediacy of obituaries:

During the last few years [Webern's] music was banned in Austria and Germany, and he was not allowed to take part in any musical activity. Yet it is known that he continued teaching in secret. The circumstances of his death have so far not been revealed. Some tragic accident seems to have ended the life of one of our finest musicians.

And, very touching, re Schumann:

His friends to-day followed the corpse to the church-yard at Bonn. Although the mournful news naturally shocked us, a mild dissolution of the bonds which still enchained his body to the earth was the sole hope of all those who loved and honoured him, since, unfortunately, there could no longer be any doubt as to the incurable nature of his malady. The flame which burned in his heart for music had consumed his restlessly creative mind. His works are his monument.'