Richard Wagner was greedy, arrogant, and ruthless. He ran away from his debts and had affairs with his friend’s wives. He was racist and anti-Semitic. He regarded himself as a god. In his own words, “I am not made like other people. I must have brilliance and beauty and light. The world owes me what I need.”
His music was also sanctioned by Adolf Hitler, who famously said,
“Whoever wants to understand National Socialistic Germany must know
Wagner.”
Richard Wagner (1813-1883)
Despite Wagner’s flaws as a human being and his shameful legacy, his music dramas are filled with messages of the redemptive power of love. His work has inspired generations of concert goers to believe in the possibility of personal transformation through love and the purity of the human heart.
Few composers have had more books written about them than Richard Wagner, and few have caused so much controversy. It’s been said that when eating dinner with friends you should never discuss politics, religion, or Wagner.
So, what are we to make of such an unpleasant man and his distorted political philosophies, a man who also created some of the most beautiful and redemptive music ever composed?
Maybe the answer is found by examining the relationship between Brahms and Tchaikovsky or Adams and Jefferson as described in a blog I posted two weeks ago. Sometimes we must simply separate a person’s character from their public work. The veracity of this idea is put to the test more often when examining the life and works of Richard Wagner than most any other person in music history.
As for my personal view on Wagner?
Tomorrow, May 22, is Wagner’s 200th birthday. I have no desire to commemorate the memory of the man. I will, however, spend time on the day after his birthday listening to the Overture to Tannhauser and Isolde’s Love-Death from Tristan and Isolde. There is no doubt I will enjoy the music, even if it was composed by an abhorrent human being.
Tannhauser Overture (Zubin Mehta conducting the New York Philharmonic)
Isolde's Love-Death from Tristan and Isolde (sung by Waltraud Meier under the direction of Daniel Baremboin on December 7, 2007 at the Scala Milan opening)
Caligula and Drusilla — Vincent and Theo — Wilbur and Orville — George and Ira — Jack and Bobby — Felix and Fanny.
Some people will forever be linked to their siblings in the history books. I doubt anyone will ever read about John Kennedy without his brother Bobby playing a significant role in the story. The same is true with Vincent van Gogh and his brother Theo, as well as Caligula and his sister Drusilla.
Some siblings are even linked in death. Bobby Kennedy died less than five years after his brother and is buried close to him at Arlington cemetery. Theo van Gogh died six months after Vincent and is buried next to him at Auvers-sur-Oise in France.
In most cases, we bother to learn little or nothing about a famous person’s siblings. George Washington had a brother named Lawrence, but most of us have little reason to know much about him. I doubt, however, that anyone will ever read about Wilbur Wright without also reading about Orville. The same is true of George and Ira Gershwin. It's probably not even possible to learn about one of the Marx Brothers without learning about the other four.
Some siblings, it seems, are destined for a historical connection, and any list of siblings connected by history would be incomplete without including Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn.
Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)
Every classical music lover knows about Felix Mendelssohn. More than 160 years after his death his music remains a standard component of the modern repertoire. When hearing Mendelssohn's music we can’t help but want to know something about the man who composed it, and when we examine his life we inevitably learn about Fanny, the sister who shared his talents but not his opportunities in European society.
Fanny Mendelssohn (1805-1847)
Fanny was four years older than Felix, born in 1805 as the first child of well-to-do Jewish parents in Hamburg, Germany. Much was expected of children born into the Mendelssohn family. Fanny’s grandfather, Moses Mendelssohn, was a respected philosopher. Her father Abraham was a well-to-do banker, and her mother Lea was a highly educated taskmaster, a woman determined to give her children the best education possible.
The Mendelssohns were an intellectual and ambitious family, unwilling to let anything hold them back. In 1811 they moved to Berlin, a city with more opportunities than provincial Hamburg. By the early 1820s the entire family had converted to Lutheranism and changed their name to Mendelssohn-Bartholdy. Abraham and Lea did not want the prejudice and discrimination against Jews affecting their children.
When Fanny was born her mother proclaimed she had “Bach-fugue fingers” and begin giving her daughter piano lessons at age six. After the family moved to Berlin, Fanny took lessons with a master pianist named Ludwig Berger. It was clear to those who visited the Mendelssohn home that Fanny was a prodigy.
Felix also began taking piano lessons at age six. Like Fanny, he was a musical prodigy and studied with Ludwig Berger. At age ten he was learning to write counterpoint from Carl Zelter, as was his sister. Both Fanny and Felix began composing when they were children and were both more advanced than Mozart at a comparable age.
Everything changed for Fanny when she turned fifteen. Her parents told her she must abandon music and prepare for marriage and motherhood. Her father said, “Music will perhaps become Felix’s profession. For you it can and must be only an ornament.” The Mendelssohns were a proper family, not about to challenge social mores regarding the role of woman.
Felix gained great fame and adulation as a composer, conductor, and pianist. His works were performed by the finest orchestras in Europe. Overture to a Midsummer Night’s Dream, composed when he was only seventeen, received rave reviews after its first performance. He was twenty when the Hebrides Overture played to rapturous applause.
He began conducting when he was nineteen and quickly gained a reputation as a virtuosic and innovative leader of orchestras and choirs. He was the first to use a baton and the first to create a repertoire of masterworks from the past. At age twenty he conducted Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, a piece that had not been heard since Bach’s death seventy-nine years early. The performance resurrected an almost forgotten composer and created a mania for all things Bach. The great composer Hector Berlioz said, “There is but one God — Bach — and Mendelssohn is his prophet.”
At age twenty-six Felix became the conductor of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, one of the most prestigious conducting jobs of the time. He soon turned the Gewandhuas into the best orchestra in the world. When he was thirty-four he founded the Leipzig Conservatory of Music. He was, quite simply, one of the most successful and well-known musicians of his time.
Fanny, on the other hand, had been denied a career in music by her parents and the cult of domesticity that limited women's opportunities in European society. The fact that she was as talented as her brother made no difference. Instead of setting the musical world on fire, Fanny read about her brother's success in the newspapers. Felix traveled throughout Europe while she stayed home. Felix conducted great orchestras while she played in amateur quartets. Felix became an international superstar. She remained unknown to the general public.
At age twenty Fanny married the artist Wilhelm Hensel. The day after her wedding Wilhelm handed her a piece of manuscript paper and asked her to return to music and begin composing again. With the support of her husband, Fanny returned to her life in music, but only as an amateur. After several miscarriages she gave birth to her only child, a son she named Sebastian Ludwig Felix Hensel in honor of her favorite composers. When she wasn't taking care of her son, she hosted musical salons and organized a small chorus. She also composed songs and wrote short pieces for piano. She would compose almost 500 pieces of music, and seven collections of songs were eventually published under her name.
Fanny nevertheless remained unknown to the public during her lifetime. European culture would simply not accept music composed by a woman. Felix secretly published several of her songs under his own name, songs that gained wide exposure and popular approval. On one of Felix’s many visits to England he met Queen Victoria who raved about the song “Italien.” Felix created a slight controversy when he confessed that his sister had written the song.
On May 14, 1847, Fanny was playing the piano with a chamber group when her hands went numb. The next day she died of a stroke. She was forty-two years old.
Felix, distraught over the loss of his sister, was emotionally unable to attend her funeral. Over the next few months his health deteriorated and less than six months after his sister died he was killed by a stroke. He was thirty-eight.
Today, in a graveyard outside Berlin, Fanny and Felix are buried next to each other, joined forever in death. Felix was a composer for the ages, gaining the fame that history grants to few artists. His story, however, can never be told without also telling the story of his sister Fanny, a woman of prodigious talent who was born at the wrong time in history.
Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn Burial Site
Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel, Larghetto from Song Without Words, Op. 8, No.3, Elzbieta Sternlicht, pianist
Felix Mendelssohn, Fantasy in F#, "Scottish Sonata," Op.28, Murray Perahia, pianest
One of the reasons I created this blog was to give myself a platform for discovering new things happening in the world of music. I can now score one point in the category of “expanding my horizons." For much too long I have been unaware a ukulele craze that for many people is old news. The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, after all, has been drawing crowds since 1985.
As I’ve already learned from listening to Jake Shimabukuro for the last two years, the ukulele is an instrument that has the ability to make you smile. It appears the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain has been putting that simple fact to good use in their act for several years.
May these clips you smile.
As a bonus, here's Israel Kamakawiwo'ole accompanying himself on the ukulele as he sings "Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World."
Jake Shimabukuro says he's on a mission to revolutionize what people think of the
ukulele. After hearing his performance of "Bohemian Rhapsody" on TED (embedded below), I have no doubt he has already succeeded in that mission. He has certainly changed my perception of the instrument.
This Friday, May 10, PBS has scheduled a film about Jake Shimabukuro titled "Life on Four Strings." I, for one, will not miss it. The film is scheduled for 9:00-10:00 ET, but check local listings.
Since I first listened to Shimabukuro over two years ago, I have learned much more about his “toy guitar.” What I have learned is enough to
increase my appreciation for the ukulele and, especially, the man who is
doing so much to popularize its sound.
In March 2011, Shimabukuro was interviewed by Bob Edwards on Sirius XM. If possible, download the interview and spend an hour listening. I hope you are as impressed as I am with Mr. Shimabukuro's intelligence and self-awareness. He’s a man who seems at peace with who he is and what he does. He is, quite simply, an inspiration.
One of the reasons to enjoy music and art is they provide us an opportunity to observe human beings at their best, and Jake Shimabukuro is an example of humanity at its best.
One of Shimabukuro's albums is titled Peace Love Ukulele, and he seems to live by every word of the title. Listening to him speak makes me believe he is in tune with the doctrine of ethos from ancient Greece. Shimabukuro, like the Greeks, believes music is good medicine, possessing the power to change people.
Shimabukuro spends time playing in community outreach programs, going to nursing homes and schools, spreading his belief that everyone should have something in their lives they are passionate about doing, something they believe in. Shimabukuro’s passion is playing the ukulele and promoting the arts. For Shimabukuro, the arts can bring inspiration and something to live for.
It’s Shimabukuro’s observation that something about the ukulele makes people smile. For him, that’s reason enough to dedicate his life to playing it for others.
Shimabukuro grew up in Hawaii where he says everyone played the ukulele. He began playing when he was four. With great devotion to the instrument and an ear for transcribing popular songs, he has become known as the “Jimi Hendrix” of the ukulele, playing such classic tunes as “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Hallelujah,” and “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” He also performs original tunes that he has composed himself, tunes such as “Go for Broke,” about the Japanese Nisei veterans of World War II, and “Five Dollars Unleaded,” about the joy of finding a gas station after almost running out of gas.
All of these tunes are played on an instrument with only four strings and two octaves. Shimabukuro points out that if a melody exceeds the range of the instrument, he simply drops it to a lower octave or puts it in a higher range. Most pop tunes, however, don’t go beyond two octaves and for Jake, it’s simply a matter of finding the right key to keep a tune within a two octave range.
In covering well-known tunes, Shimabukuro relies on what he calls the “silent orchestra” to fill in notes and sounds he can’t play on a ukulele. He says he has no need to add drums, bass guitars, strings, or vocals when the audience can imagine hearing what is needed to complete a song. Knowing that he can do nothing to make a song played on the ukulele bigger than the original, he has decided to strip songs down to the bare essentials.
In becoming the performer he is, Shimabukuro has said he was inspired by three famous men.
First, he was inspired by Bruce Lee. For Shimabukuro, Bruce Lee represented someone who was capable of mixing the martial arts, embracing all techniques — boxing, judo, karate. If Bruce Lee had been a musician, Jake believes, he would have embraced all types of music. From Bach to Rock, Shimabukuro embraces all types of music.
Second, Shimabukuro credits Bill Cosby for showing him how to perform on stage. Shimabukuro said he must have watched Bill Cosby over 100 times on HBO, finding him funnier every time. Bill Cosby — one man, with only a chair, and a microphone — was a solo performer able to hold an audience’s attention for long periods. Shimabukuro, like Bill Cosby, has become a performer who goes on stage alone, sitting on a stool with a ukulele, playing and telling stories.
Shimabukuro also learned something useful about playing the ukulele from watching Michael Jordan play basketball. As Shimabukuro points out, basketball is a mind game, and Michael Jordan was at his best when he could get into a mental zone, not blocking everything out, but taking everything in, becoming aware of everything around him. Shimabukuro, like Michael Jordan, wants to be an artist who becomes aware of everything, aware of the audience and how the sound of his ukulele bounces off the wall, aware of the sneezes or coughs emanating from his audience.
Shimabukuro believes his ukulele is an instrument of peace, a humble instrument that makes people smile. That may indeed be true. But I should also point out that even without the ukulele, Jake Shimabukuro seems to be an instrument of peace. He says it’s impossible to feel bad when playing the ukulele. It’s also impossible to feel bad when listening to such an intelligent, gentle soul explain his passion and then use his passion to bring joy into the lives of others.
Peace. Love. Ukulele.
May Jake Shimabukuro have a long and prosperous career.
Two icons of classical music were born on May 7 — Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) and Peter Tchaikovsky (1840-1893).
In addition to sharing a birthdate, Brahms and Tchaikovsky shared a conservative approach to composing music that had their contemporaries placing them on the same side during the Romantic “wars” of the late
1800s. They were both viewed by their defenders as standing in opposition to the "art of the future" coming from Franz Liszt
and Richard Wagner.
Brahms and Tchaikovsky were also united by history in offering a
lesson in how to separate "the person" from "the
work." Although Brahms and Tchaikovsky had much in common as composers and liked each
other personally, neither one liked the music of the other.
Tchaikovsky, especially, seemed to detest the music that Brahms composed.
“The
other day I played over the music of that scoundrel Brahms. What a
giftless bastard! It irritates me that this self-inflated mediocrity is
hailed as a genius.... Brahms is a chaos of utterly empty
dried-up tripe.” (1866)
“Brahms
is a celebrity; I’m a nobody. And yet, without false modesty, I tell
you that I consider myself superior to Brahms. So what would I say to
him: If I’m an honest and truthful person, then I would have to tell him
this: ‘Herr Brahms! I consider you to be a very untalented person, full
of pretensions but utterly devoid of creative inspiration. I rate you
very poorly and indeed I simply look down upon you.'" (1878)
Brahms' view of Tchaikovsky’s music was not as vitriolic, but was nevertheless critical. Brahms disliked Tchaikovsky’s Orchestral Suite No. 1, except the first movement. History also provides a story stemming from Brahms’ attendance of a dress rehearsal of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony
that, if true, provides evidence of Brahms’ indifference to
Tchaikovsky’s music. According to legend, Brahms slept through the
entire rehearsal. Legend or not (it may have been nothing more than a
symptom of Brahms’ sleep apnea), it is true that Brahms later told
Tchaikovsky he did not like the symphony.
In spite of these differences both men seemed to enjoy the company of the other.
Johannes Brahms
They met only twice. The first time was in January 1888 when
Tchaikovsky was on a tour of western Europe and attended a rehearsal of
Brahms’ Piano Trio No. 3 in Leipzig. Tchaikovsky expected to
meet a “conceited” celebrity, a man who was certain to behave with
pomposity and arrogance. Instead, Brahms treated Tchaikovsky with warmth
and kindness. In a letter to his publisher, Tchaikovsky expressed
genuine admiration for Brahms, admiration that may have been enhanced
by the alcohol they shared at a party after the rehearsal.
“I’ve
been on the booze with Brahms. He is tremendously nice — not at all
proud as I’d expected, but remarkably straightforward and entirely
without arrogance. He has a very cheerful disposition, and I must say
that the hours I spent in his company have left me with nothing but the
pleasantest memories."
They met again the
following year in Hamburg when Tchaikovsky toured western Europe a
second time. After a rehearsal of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony, the same
rehearsal that may have put Brahms to sleep, the two men shared a meal.
As they sat together, Brahms provided harsh criticism of the finale of
Tchaikovsky’s symphony. In turn, Tchaikovsky confessed his aversion to
Brahms’ compositional style. In spite of the brickbats, the two men
seemed to have enjoyed each other’s company and parted as great friends.
Tchaikovsky even invited Brahms to visit him in Russia, a trip Brahms
was never able to make.
Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky
Is
all this a contradiction? How could two men admire each other so much
on a personal level, yet have such a low opinion of the other’s creative
output? For me, their story is a great lesson in how to separate a
person’s character from their productive work.
The same lesson can
be found in looking at the relationship between John Adams and Thomas
Jefferson, two men who were hostile political opponents in the early
years of United States history. Twice they ran against each other for
president in bitterly contested elections, with Adams winning in 1796
and Jefferson in 1800. After Jefferson’s presidency ended, however, the
two began a written correspondence in which they demonstrated a genuine
admiration for each other in spite of their political and philosophical
differences.
As a U.S. history teacher, I often used the
Adams-Jefferson story to demonstrate that political and philosophical
differences do not require us to demonize our opponents. It’s
possible, as I liked to tell students, not to sanction the product of
someone’s public work and yet still enjoy their company socially — to
like them as a person. I suppose the opposite is also true. We might
approve of someone’s public work but not like them as a person.
Brahms and Tchaikovsky can be used to teach the same lesson.
Adams
and Jefferson both died on the same day — July 4, 1826. Brahms and
Tchaikovsky were both born on the same date — May 7. The stories of both
friendships can by used as lessons in how human beings
might live together, and even like each other, in spite of their
differences.
Brahms, Symphony No. 1, conducted by Simon Rattle (Berliner Philharmoniker)
Tchaikovsky, Symphony No. 4, conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas (San Francisco Orchestra)
