OT: Charles Ives

[Leo K]

IV. Thoreau



[from Essays...]

Thoreau was a great musician, not because he played the flute but
because he did not have to go to Boston to hear "the Symphony."
The rhythm of his prose, were there nothing else, would determine
his value as a composer. He was divinely conscious of the
enthusiasm of Nature, the emotion of her rhythms and the harmony
of her solitude. In this consciousness he sang of the submission
to Nature, the religion of contemplation, and the freedom of
simplicity--a philosophy distinguishing between the complexity of
Nature which teaches freedom, and the complexity of materialism
which teaches slavery. In music, in poetry, in all art, the truth
as one sees it must be given in terms which bear some proportion
to the inspiration. In their greatest moments the inspiration of
both Beethoven and Thoreau express profound truths and deep
sentiment, but the intimate passion of it, the storm and stress
of it, affected Beethoven in such a way that he could not but be
ever showing it and Thoreau that he could not easily expose it.

In this movement, the Human Faith melody reaches the edge of finality, or completeness...like a daydream almost fulfilled by an action in the waking state.  Perhaps we glimpse Thoreau in Meditation at Walden Lake near his homemade cabin...communing with nature and the Divine and marveling on the interconnectedness of the apparent separation usually percieved between the two.

You may notice how simuliar this movement is with Ives's song "Thoreau."  Both this song and this movement (of the same name) from The Concord are both derived from a lost piece called Walden Sounds.

The Human Faith melody, in a basic form (the melody always wants to descend before ascending):



This basic motive is eventually translated to an almost perfect union with the Beethoven motive.  In the score, Ives includes a second option...the performer can duet with a flute (Thoreau played the flute) to play the defining moment in the work:



[from Essays...}

He remains in this mood and while outwardly still, he seems to
move with the slow, almost monotonous swaying beat of this
autumnal day. He is more contented with a "homely burden" and is
more assured of "the broad margin to his life; he sits in his
sunny doorway...rapt in revery...amidst goldenrod, sandcherry,
and sumac...in undisturbed solitude."

At times the more definite
personal strivings for the ideal freedom, the former more active
speculations come over him, as if he would trace a certain
intensity even in his submission. "He grew in those seasons like
corn in the night and they were better than any works of the
hands. They were not time subtracted from his life but so much
over and above the usual allowance." "He realized what the
Orientals meant by contemplation and forsaking of works." "The
day advanced as if to light some work of his--it was morning and
lo! now it is evening and nothing memorable is accomplished..."
"The evening train has gone by," and "all the restless world with
it. The fishes in the pond no longer feel its rumbling and he is
more alone than ever..."

His meditations are interrupted only by
the faint sound of the Concord bell--'tis prayer-meeting night in
the village--"a melody as it were, imported into the
wilderness..." "At a distance over the woods the sound acquires a
certain vibratory hum as if the pine needles in the horizon were
the strings of a harp which it swept...A vibration of the
universal lyre...Just as the intervening atmosphere makes a
distant ridge of earth interesting to the eyes by the azure tint
it imparts."...

Part of the echo may be "the voice of the wood;
the same trivial words and notes sung by the wood nymph." It is
darker, the poet's flute is heard out over the pond and Walden
hears the swan song of that "Day" and faintly echoes...Is it a
transcendental tune of Concord? 'Tis an evening when the "whole
body is one sense,"...and before ending his day he looks out over
the clear, crystalline water of the pond and catches a glimpse of
the shadow--thought he saw in the morning's mist and haze--he
knows that by his final submission, he possesses the "Freedom of
the Night." He goes up the "pleasant hillside of pines,
hickories," and moonlight to his cabin, "with a strange liberty
in Nature, a part of herself."

Jan Swafford writes:

The outer movements of the Concord are set in nature--the Emersonian mountaintops at the beginning, Thoreau's intimate woodlands at the end--and so America's two greatest visionaries of nature frame this work of strange liberties and deep import.  In between we find in Hawthorne a phantasmagoria on the life of towns, of human societies, and in The Alcotts the society of home and family.  The image of Concord, like Danbury a town both real and mythical, a symbol of eternal community and human aspiration, enfolds the four movements. 

[Leo K]

I want to post an online discussion with David Porter (musicologist, member of the Charles Ives Society, and former contributor the Ives list) pertaining to this recording of the Emerson Concerto:



David Porter did an excellant job reconstructing Ives's Emerson Concerto, so we could all study the first incarnation of the Emerson music Ives later reworked for the Concord Sonata.  I highly recommend this disk (which also features an excellant version of the Ives 1st).

But first I'm going to post excerpts from an Amazon review of this disk from Bob Zeidler...one of my favorite reviewers on the net.  As you will see, this review is referenced in the Porter discussion I will post next.

Amazon review of the Emerson Concerto:

Charlie Done Right. Part III October 31, 2003

Reviewer:   Bob Zeidler (Charlton, MA United States)
   
Superficially, this new Naxos release of Ives's 1st Symphony and the premiere recording of his Emerson Concerto resembles an earlier Naxos release of his 2nd Symphony and Robert Browning Overture (a review of which I gave the sobriquet "Charlie done right"). The resemblance is in the pairing of an "accessible" Ives work with one more "knotty." In each case, the symphony receives a performance using a new critical edition (by Jonathan Elkus in that earlier release and by James Sinclair in this one). And each critical edition affords a fresh view of such "accessible" Ives. But the similarities shouldn't be overdrawn; while the Robert Browning Overture is knotty under the best of circumstances, the Emerson Concerto turns out to be more accessible than I expected; a pleasant revelation.

...the Emerson Concerto in its recording premiere, hardly arrives "unannounced," as Alan Feinberg, the soloist here, has performed the work (to splendid reviews) in concerts since its concert premiere in 1998. But for most of us this is a "first hearing."

The work is"realized" by David G. Porter, an Ives scholar who must number among the fearless of this small community, from incomplete sketches of an "Emerson Overture" for piano and orchestra (one of four such proposed overtures on literary figures, of which only the Robert Browning Overture saw completion). According to Sinclair's authoritative "Descriptive Catalog of the Music of Charles Ives," the terms "overture" and "concerto" can be used interchangeably.

While Ives never completed the work, he did succeed in subsuming many of its themes in the Concord Sonata and the Four Emerson Transcriptions for Piano that are closely related, thematically, to the Concord. By far the most famous of these themes is the four-note "Fate" motive that begins Beethoven's 5th Symphony, a theme for which Ives ascribed greater "universality" than did Beethoven himself.

Ivesians coming upon this work for the first time will find it to be a fascinating, and at times compelling, mix of "the old" and "the new and strange." For the most part, connections to the Concord and the Emerson Transcriptions will be recognized, but of course transmogrified. The "Fate" motive seems to be more dominant here than in the keyboard equivalents; it is clearly the unifying theme for all four movements. Feinberg is absolutely heroic in his performance (as he needs to be, needless to say).

Orchestrating the work (and here Porter has done a superb job) clarifies far more than it obscures, vis-a-vis the keyboard works. As would be expected, shattering dissonances live side-by-side with passages of transcendent beauty. I was even able to pick out a passage or two where quarter-tones seem to have been employed by Porter; they are for the most part in the quieter passages, and they simply glow with beauty.



Next...an online discussion with David Porter...




I saved this conversion that occurred last year on the Ives list...it was a revelation to hear Porter discribe the process of editing together such a difficult work, and he also mentions the Mahler 10th completion.

Here are the names of the people involved in this discussion.

Scott Mortenson:  Moderator of the Ives Yahoo List

Mike (don't know his last name): Frquent poster with good insights into Ives's music.

Porter: Ives Scholar and Editor


Emerson Concerto discussion
w/ David Porter (on Charles Ives List) from March 29 to June 7, 2005.

David Porter:

I looked up and read the Amazon review, which was new to me. Just
for the record, when he notices quartertones and muses that I may
have added them, the truth is, No, they are specified by Ives,
either in a musical notation or a verbal description (they only
occur in the statements of one passage and only in the cellos).

With all the verbal notes and memos he left in the sources, I still
wonder why he didn't try to resurrect the Concerto format. He was
asked on at least one occasion if he had a piano concerto on hand.
He has these memos scattered through all the sources (copies, copies
of copies, etc.), sometimes even referring to page numbers of a
missing (or never made) score. It isn't like he didn't have a full
orchestral draft in mind, and the only conclusion I came to is that
he may have re-realized the full orchestral score is he had been
asked for it and his health had allowed. Seriously, anyone else
would have been able to do this if they had just taken the time to
collect together all the materials and TRIED to do it. Because I
remember thinking to myself before the premiere that it was really
odd that no one else had tried this in the over 60 years since Ives
had first made these materials available, and 50 years since he last
fooled around with getting "Concord" revised. (The phrase "fooled
around" is apt -- read some accounts of the process.)

Scott Mortenson:

David, now a question for you: Do you prefer [John] Sinclair's version
to [Christoph] von Dohnanyi's? They're quite different in places, tempo-wise.

Porter:

Christoph's versions (I have the 4 from Cleveland and also the BBC
broadcast) is more "stately" or old-worldish, but it's not really a
fair comparison because we were still working out details in
Cleveland right up to the premiere (not due to them -- due to –some-
at Schirmer who had fought me along the way and sent parts out that
didn't match the score -- and once in a while a question about
individual notes -- these are painfully obvious in the tape of the
Italian group's premiere). Cleveland also uses my original
conservative scoring (based on 1912 works like "St. Gaudens") while
Jim [James Sinclair] did some score enrichment by revising wind voicings and adding a
timpani part (all with my approval). Jim's tempos are more up as
well.

I'd rather talk about [the] Concord [Piano Sonata] because I have both of Hamelin's recordings and I think
they are the best around.

This piece [the Concord] didn't really make it for me
until I heard his [Hamlin's] first CD. Even JK's [John Kirkpatrick’s] two performances (I have the
1st on tape and 2nd on LP) didn't do anything for me. (I think if JK
had done more investigating into the Transcriptions and the Studies
he would have been more to my liking as his familiarity with the
music would have been enhanced -- but he always preferred the 1st
edition and it was his dilly-dallying with helping Ives revise the
score for the 2nd edition that caused some of the delay in bringing
that out. The other pieces just didn't get hold of his interest. So
I'm told.) It really isn't realistic to make a comment like "Jim's
is better" even though in technicality it is, because the comparison
isn't fair. BTW there is a German recording with Stefan Litwin in
the can but I have no idea if/when it will be released.

Scott:

Also, do you have the text/URL of the Bernard Holland NYT
article?

I'm wondering WHY he thought the Emerson Concerto out of bounds.

Porter:

I have it, I think in plain text format too. He just didn't like the
work when he heard it, and then he went on his 2nd piece into
wondering why people bring out things like this and even the other
movements of Mahler's Tenth (he pretty much says Cooke et al spoiled
the Adagio for him). I was studying the Mahler sketches before I
got into Ives and corresponded with Cooke (when he was recovering his
health from the trials of the Wyn Morris recording project) and I'm
totally in favor of what he did. (I think Mazzetti has gone far
afield in his realization, from what I've read, but I still want to
hear his latest score.) Another "BTW," the title-pages for those
sketches tell a lot about the genesis of the Tenth -- that the
Finale was written first, that the "Purgatorio Order Inferno" was
later planned as the opening movement, and that the Adagio was written
last. I think from this that this explains why he went to the
Adagio first when drafting his first full scores, and left the last
movement, the oldest one, in its sketch-state only when he died --
he'd get to the old stuff later, but wanted to deal with the new
stuff first.

After that going-far-afield, do you want me to post or E-mail you the
texts? They are kind of long. Heh, I posted the 2nd article on
Usenet a couple of years ago and got some readers' reactions -- my
favorite is, "I say, this is the worst piece of drivel I have read
in a long time."

As I've said before, I didn't add a single note to Ives's music
(although to be perfectly honest, I did have to edit a basic text
for passages where more than one piano version was in existence and
I did make choices there). I just scored some passages, and when I
could I based my scoring on existing passages or other pieces'
orchestrations from the same years. In some places it was obvious
what to do -- looking as it did like other sketches I've copied out
in full score -- such as three string parts in RH and two in LH =
Violins and Violas for RH and Vc & DB for LH -- a no-brainer. There
are some "funny” places but they're all Ives -- I remember Jim questioning me on a
few places and all I could do was cite a manuscript page or a verbal
memo written by Ives himself. (One place is the cascading string
chord in the middle of the "variations on a simple theme" in mvt ii -
- Ives's memo tells exactly how he wanted it done or had done in
some missing score.) But in the end it's all there, even down to
single measures where he indicates that a whole contrapuntal line
had been for such-and-such an instrument or instruments.

It struck me as odd that Ives had been circulating copies of this
stuff since about 60 years ago when I first looked at it, and no one
else had tried to do this score, or hadn't seen what was there and
could be done. Sixty years! It's all there, and I don't know why
no one else tried it.

To be continued...

[Leo K]

...continued from above...

Mike:

This is my first post. I have been an Ives maniac for over thirty
years and when the recording came out of the Emerson "Concerto" (It
was really supposed to be the "Emerson Overture for Piano and
Orchestra, another "Men of Literature" piece, the magnificent Robert
Browning Overture being the only other one in any sort of completed
state) I hesitated, knowing it was only an early version of
the "Emerson" movement of the second piano sonata.

Indeed probably 80% (IMHO) comes from the "Emerson" movement, or
should we say vice-versa, since the Concerto came first.

As this is my first post, I am going to strike a controversial chord
(pun intended). Although I greatly love the "Thoreau" and "Alcotts"
movements of the Concord Sonata, and can get my mind around
the "Hawthorne" movement (although I feel it's a bit too
rambling), "Emerson" has always posed a problem for me.

The longest movement of the sonata, "Emerson" undoubtedly contains
some of Ives's most powerful and eloquent music, but also most
difficult, for musician and listener alike.

It may well be the densest, most heterophonic, most dissonant piano
piece written before 1950. It alternates between chaos and simple
beauty, which given its subject and his philosophical positions, is
what it should be doing.

Regardless of this, the difficulty of it in many ways stems from
Ives cramming so much music into two hands. Yes, I know you can
play a six-note chord with one hand by bending your thumb so it
covers two keys. But "Emerson" begs the question how much is
expanding the range of the piano to sound orchestral, and how much
is simply trying to transcribe an orchestral work for piano?

The "Emerson" movement, of course, is not merely a transcription of
the "Concerto," nor do I claim it to secretly be one. But the use
of one sonority for all lines of melody and harmony makes it all the
more difficult to do any "ear-stretching."

Indeed, Ives could not have been totally unaware of this since the
full version of the Concord Sonata has brief additional parts for
other instruments, a viola in "Emerson" and a flute in "Thoreau"
(would "Thoreau" be as effective without the flute solo?). Much of
the time in "Emerson" one has a feeling of holding onto a life raft
in the midst of a violent storm, waiting for an interval of calm.

The Ives enthusiast would state that what I said above is exactly
the point. Emerson's questing to understand the order of a most
disorderly universe probably couldn't be expressed except with a
nearly incomprehensible frenzy of counterpoint. But like
Joyce's "Finnegans Wake" (a work I do revere), deliberate
obfuscation seemingly becomes exhausting after a while, if not
actually tiresome.

Finally getting to the "Concero," the material of the "Emerson"
piano work suddenly evokes a much different reaction. Tangles of
notes, when spread between piano and orchestra, or between just
orchestral instruments have more of a sense of cohesion than one
would have expected just listening to the piano piece.

Likewise other parts, such as what I believe are permutations of the
lyrical "Human Faith" melody, evoke quite different feelings when
played by hushed strings or solo flute than by piano alone. This
enhanced lyricism through orchestration is, in fact, quite in
keeping with the feeling of the Adagio of the Browning Overture.

I cannot contend that this lyricism is non-existent from the version
of "Emerson" for piano alone, but the orchestrated form evokes
deeper emotional feeling, again like _Browning._

It is not that there are not chaotic sections to the "Concerto."
But they feel more like the momentary chaos in pieces like "The
Fourth of July," or the coda of the second movement of the Fourth
Symphony: incomprehensible, but fitting to the moment (both, of
course, are about the excitement of the Fourth of July).

The reasons for "Emerson" being transformed from orchestral to
chamber music are not exactly difficult to discern, though.
Although the alternations of piano alone and orchestra at full blast
do make musical sense, the large amount of music for unaccompanied
piano (including the last minutes of the Concerto) must have made
Ives think it might all make more sense as a solo piano work. And
indeed it can be said the Concerto, at eight minutes longer than the
solo piano piece, says pretty much the same things as the piano
piece manages to do with greater concision.

Nonetheless, there is something about the Concerto. Not enough to
displace the sense that the solo piece is a sublime expression of
the ideas both works share. But enough to say that
this "unfinished" quasi-concerto can be appreciated as more than
simply the earlier, embryonic version of the later piece. Perhaps
in some ways it is even more moving than the version in
the "Concord" Sonata.

Indeed, in one place the Concerto changes a phrase in the piano to
give it, in some ways, more resonance than it has in the chamber
work. It is the last expression in the finale of the "Beethoven
Fifth Symphony" motto, played with a thundering Tschaikovskian
fortissimo, instead of the quiet expression of it at the end of the
sonata's version.

Some contend Ives never actually got to what would be the last notes
of the Concerto (he stated it was unfinished and, as symbolic of
Emerson, could never be). Nonetheless, this hammered passage,
followed by flittering little (almost inaudible) fragments of
unresolved melody that actually end the Concerto, seems as exact an
ending anyone could produce, and more fully realized than in the
Concord Sonata.

Scott:

A very interesting post. Thanks for sharing it with us.

For a long time, the "Emerson" music was tough-going for me. I couldn't
really get much of a foot-hold on it. More than anything else, the thing
that opened it up for me was listening to Ives' own recordings--specifically
all of the improvisations based on the Emerson music. Much of this
listening was passive, "in the background" sort of listening. But I kept
playing it over and over. After that, I turned to Hamelin's (first)
recording, and the whole work very suddenly made a lot more sense. I could
follow it and enjoy it. Later, I read the "Essays Before a Sonata" and the
whole sonata came into focus even more. Now I love it and probably listen
to it more than any other of Ives' compositions.

I think that it's interesting that you find the concerto/overture version
easier to "hear" or preferable or perhaps more fully realized. (Don't want
to put words in your mouth. ;-) I have really enjoyed it too. But to my
ears the version for orchestra is MORE jarring to my ears than the sonata,
rather than less. But that may be just because I've listened to the sonata
so much.


To be continued...

[barry guerrero]

Leo,

I thought you might be interested in what Dave Hurwitz has to say about the very same Naxos release. Without trivializing the Emerson concerto, it's Naxos' recording the symphony that D.H. finds revelatory. I can tell you that David likes Ives an awful lot - every bit as much as he likes Mahler. He grew up in the same part of the country, and has looked at some of the Ives material stored at Yale. I'm going to pick up this release right away. Anyway, here goes:

 
The Emerson Concerto, a reconstruction by David G. Porter from Ives' "developed draft", gets top billing here, but it's the First Symphony that comes as the real revelation. In conversation with the present writer, conductor and Ives scholar James Sinclair offered the opinion that the reason Ives didn't finish the Emerson as a piano concerto was largely practical: he didn't trust himself as piano soloist, and no one else would have touched the piece in the first decade of the last century when he wrote it. Of course, both Ives and Sinclair were right, and much of the material for the concerto found its way into the Concord Sonata, and happily so.


While I am hardly in a position to judge Porter's work regarding its faithfulness to Ives' intentions (inasmuch as they can be determined), the piece strikes me as thick, clunky, episodic, and slow moving, lacking that typically Ivesian energy and abandon. It sounds more like Carl Ruggles, though with less of both polish and purpose. The important question in evaluating any effort such as this is whether or not it tells us anything really new or essential about the composer. As an interim stage on the way to that certified masterpiece, the Concord Sonata, I suppose it's interesting--but I wouldn't call it necessary, even though the redoubtable Alan Feinberg plays it about as well as we have any right to expect, and Sinclair probably knows it better than anyone in the universe except perhaps Porter himself. Ives fans, of course, should hear it and draw their own conclusions.


No, the big news here is the First Symphony, a work that should appeal to the universe beyond the Ives ghetto, particularly as this performance ought to be regarded in most respects as its premiere on disc. I don't say this lightly: excellent recordings already exist by Eugene Ormandy and Michael Tilson Thomas (both for Sony), but Sinclair not only has a new edition (with additional percussion in the finale that Ives specifically indicated in a letter but that never made it into the previously published score), he also has an interpretation that will prove a revelation to anyone who ever thought of this work as small-scale and unadventurous.


Of course, compared to the mature Ives it's tame stuff, but with all of its repeats in place and lasting some 45 minutes, the work now has a bigness of vision and greatness of heart that identifies it, emotionally at least, as genuine Ives, indelibly stamped with his irrepressible personality even at this early stage. The first movement, episodic though it may be, moves with majestic confidence toward its Brucknerian close, the quirky passages (such as the Stravinskian second subject for solo flute) standing out more vividly then ever before. The second movement, taken very slowly, now becomes a real Romantic adagio, clearly inspired by the Largo of Dvorák's "New World" Symphony (English horn solo and all). The perky scherzo perfectly sets up the athletic but very grand finale (so curiously reminiscent of Nielsen's Second Symphony, except that the Ives came first), with that riotous extra percussion toward the end clearly opening the door to the Second Symphony and the masterworks to come.


No one active today has a better feel for this music, for its past influences as well as its future destiny, than James Sinclair, and he galvanizes the players of the National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland to produce warmly idiomatic, extremely satisfying results. As anyone who has heard Naxos' excellent Malcolm Arnold symphony cycle from this venue might have guessed, the sonics also are outstanding in every respect. Whatever my reservations about the Emerson Concerto, for the symphony alone this disc deserves a very strong recommendation. Don't miss it!
 

[Leo K]

Wow...thats a GREAT review and I agree that the 1st upstages the Emerson here (though the Emerson is interesting for historical reasons)...thanks for posting it.  When I first bought the disk I was thinking of the Emerson Concerto...which I do really like as you already know. 

Yet when I played the 1st Symphony I was taken on a journey that Ives hadn't yet shown me...you could say I was taken aback on how meaningful the performance was and my perception of the Ives 1st totally changed.  I was used to MTT's version, but this was so good I did a double take.  I remember first listening to it on a walk in the sunny afternoon, and I felt like I was transported to an afternoon in 1896 New England...the vivid pictures the music started in my thoughts really told a kind of story...a day-in-the-life of a youth in 19th Century America.  Each movement moved the story along in a convincing manner.  It's amazing how little details like the first movement repeat totally shifted my understanding and appreciation of this work (and finally the Scherzo and Finale had interest and wasn't boring).  The pacing was surberb in every way, and the instrumental detail very engaging.  Sinclair is a great Ives interpeter. 

I was listening to this recording of the 1st again today in fact, and again was impressed by this rendition...so it was apropo of you to post Hurtwitz's review.  Thanks!

[Leo K]

This is such a great CD...I've been listing to this alot in the car lately...upon listening to the Emerson Concerto yesterday, I realized what I like so much about it.  It's the second movement that makes this reconstruction worthwhile.  The second movement is more reflective, serene (mostly anyways).  The human faith melody sounds awesome in Ives's original orchestration (at least the parts that were finished anyway). My favorite section in the Piano Sonata are the quieter serene parts in the Emerson movement, the human faith melodies in their various transformations, so to hear it in orchestral form is quite a treat.

 

[barry guerrero]

That makes sense to me. I still need to pick up this release; and I will - soon enough.

Barry

[Leo K]

I re-bought this the other day:



The 2nd Symphony is becoming my favorite work by Ives.  This is a great CD, but I'm still not quite used to the faster tempo on "Where, oh where are the Verdant Freshman" in the 2nd movement.  It doesn't wreck the experience, but I'm used to the usual slow tempo that Bernstein adopted there.  My favorite recording of the 2nd is the Harold farberman:



It's the first recording I owned of this work. 

Anyways, I just ordered the new critical edition of the score and look forward to pouring over every last bar!!

[barry guerrero]

I really like that "original version" recording of the 2nd symphony (Naxos), but now I can't remember why. If I recall correctly, the ending is a bit different as well. We played the normal version one time in Redwood Symphony, and it was just tons of fun to do. I love the ending!

Farberman is a better conductor than he often gets credit for being.

[barry guerrero]

Leo,

I picked up the Emerson Concerto pretty cheap today. I agree with you - I like the second movement best also. Actually, I like both of the two inner movements. Much of the finale is very good too. There's much that reminds me of Messiaen, particulary the string voicings. Also, it's not true that nothing reoccures in this piece. The descending half-step harmonies become a leitmotif of their own - that's how often they reoccure. Many short cells and "licks" do repeat themselves. Even the Beethoven's 5th motto repeats itself. The piece just isn't thematic in any tradional sense, obviously. Much of the second movement makes me think more of a sophistocated New York skyline at night than it does of Emerson's rugged wilderness. I enjoyed hearing it, and want to listen to it a few more times. I didn't get to the symphony yet.

Barry

[Leo K]

Leo,

I picked up the Emerson Concerto pretty cheap today. I agree with you - I like the second movement best also. Actually, I like both of the two inner movements. Much of the finale is very good too. There's much that reminds me of Messiaen, particulary the string voicings. Also, it's not true that nothing reoccures in this piece. The descending half-step harmonies become a leitmotif of their own - that's how often they reoccure. Many short cells and "licks" do repeat themselves. Even the Beethoven's 5th motto repeats itself. The piece just isn't thematic in any tradional sense, obviously. Much of the second movement makes me think more of a sophistocated New York skyline at night than it does of Emerson's rugged wilderness. I enjoyed hearing it, and want to listen to it a few more times. I didn't get to the symphony yet.

Barry

I agree regarding the repeating motives and cells.  The same can be said of the Emerson of the Sonata itself...where the music seems to have three main themes.  First, that descending half-step figure that begins the movement is everywhere, just like the concerto (as you mentioned)...then there's the Beethoven 5th, and then the softer, more delicate themes that seem to be variations of the "human faith" melody.  In the score for the sonata Ives called the "masculine" sounding parts Emerson's prose and the softer parts (which mimic that half-step theme by descending downward) were called Emerson's poetry, which which makes sense because the softer parts actually have a time signature (that of course changes in almost every measure).  I guess one can surmise that Ives learned more from his Yale music professor (Horatio Parker) than he like to admit.  Parker really schooled him in Brahm's and Beethoven's use of motives and etc.  Again, like Ives does in his 2nd Symphony (and other works), there is an interesting mixture of American-like themes mixed up with European procedures that gets more sophisticated as Ives matures.

In the first movement of the concerto, I really like the writing for the french horns, which sometimes play this heroic-like theme (which is also in the piano part sometimes) that seems to be a new motive. 

When I hear the second movement I think of a bright sun on a cold autumn morning, and sometimes I think of Harmony Ives in their country home in Redding, sitting and sewing or something!!  The begining of the 3rd movement brings Thoreau's flute to mind.


The Emerson Concerto may not be as tight as the Sonata movement...but it does get better with each listen...Ives's Emerson stuff had always intriqued me.  I have the Ives Plays Ives CD, and it's an interesting document of Ives's obsession with the Emerson themes.  Over and over he plays what he called the Four Transcriptions from Emerson.  Each of these four transcriptions are related to the unfinished Emerson Concerto.  Ives was a great piano player too, although the recordings suffer from limited sound (he recorded between 1933 to 1943).

[Leo K]

Here is more of that online conversation with David Porter about the Emerson Concerto and it's reconstruction.  Porter is discussing the piece with other posters on the Yahoo Ives List:

Mike:

Because of your [Scott’s] comments, I pulled out the Kalish rendition of the
Concord Sonata and listened to the Emerson movement.

One thing is hearing the Concerto made the sonata movement's
organization clearer to me. It is as if the Concerto were a
simplified version of the sonata movement, even though this doesn't
sound like the case. Of course a good amount of stuff in the
Concerto doesn't make it into the Sonata.

Not only that, but things more elaborated on in the Concerto are
presented in a briefer, more restrained fashion in the Sonata. This
could likely have been because Ives conceived the "Concerto" as a
piece for "the masses," while the Sonata is a much more intimate
experience, requiring toning down, just as acting on stage differs
greatly from acting on films or on television.

I'll agree that you can't put one of the pieces over the other.
They are the same material largely presented in two irreconcilable
and, therefore, incomparable ways.

Nonetheless, there are overall organizational ideas in the Concerto
that aren't in the Sonata.

The first, of course, is the separation of the music into two
blocks: the piano block and the orchestral block. The
interpretation that the orchestra is the universe and the piano is
Emerson seems correct. The piano and orchestra seldom work
together, essentially at odds with each other throughout the piece.

The "Beethoven motto theme," which is essentially the orchestra's,
is not heard in full version by the piano until the solo at the end
of the fourth movement. What's more, the only time the piano and
orchestra seem absolutely in sync is in the presentation of
the "Human Faith" theme near the end of the second movement. The
third movement opens with the piano and solo flute playing together,
but in counterpoint, not in unison. Then the orchestra and piano
separate again and never really reconcile.

The fourth movement has an almost heartbroken feeling to it, as
though the synthesis of self and the world Emerson seeks is, and
will always be, beyond his grasp. As stated above, the Concerto
ends with the piano (and, therefore, Emerson) alone, finally able to
articulate the Beethoven Motto theme, some sense of concilation in
what Emerson had achieved.

The sonata movement, of course, lacks the second component, the
orchestra. Ives manages to have the universe and Emerson still
present by creating two new blocks of music: fortissimo and
heterophonic, and pianissimo and essentially homophonic. The
antagonism is no longer in separate instrumental groups, but
integrated into the music, itself. The sonata movement also follows
the "sequence of events" described in the Concerto above. One can
hear the four separate divisions of the sonata movement just as one
can in the Concerto.

The absence of the orchestra, however, makes the "oppositional"
sense of the music quite different. Everything is filtered through
Emerson's mind, rather than existing as a separate entity from him
needing reconciliation. This seems correct as an expression of
Emerson's desire to be a "transparent eyeball," something virtually
non-existent that the world just flows through and becomes a part of.

What the sonata movement lacks, however, is the sense of pathos
present in the Concerto. The Concerto is about Emerson's struggle
with the world; the sonata movement is about the world flowing
through Emerson. The conflict in the Concerto is between Emerson
and the world. The conflict in the sonata movement is Emerson's
working toward understanding the chaos of the world, something
slightly different.

This does give the Concerto a more haunting, though less mystical
quality than the sonata movement. The Concerto only barely achieves
a sense of transcendentalism at the end of the finale. The sonata
movement goes in and out of this sense throughout its duration.

Which is the better approach? The Concerto obviously arises out of
the idea of Beethovenian symphonic struggle with the cosmos, rather
than the Tschaikovski or Brahms concertante style. This makes it
feel connected to present and past at once. The sonata movement
seems essentially disconnected with the past. Despite the Beethoven
motto, it has more in common with Beethoven's late quartets than his
Fifth Symphony. The reverse seems true of the Concerto.

Ultimately, it is the pathos that wins me over, but this is just my
soppy sentimental heart talking. My brain knows either version of
Emerson can be preferred.

Porter:

This is one of the most eloquent commentaries on the pieces that I
have seen in a long time.

(Porter next addresses Scott’s comment on Ives’s improvisations on Emerson heard on the Ives Plays Ives CD):

Those "improvisations" aren't improvisations at all. They were in
the Concerto (the first one is in the surviving sketch pages,
although sketchy in places -- it's clearer, but not much more, in
the MS for Study #9), and when Ives dropped them they first became
Studies. Studies 1, 2 & 9 are from these cadenzas, but most of #1
went into the First Transcription, and I suspect that #9 didn't
exist until that happened.

And it was after Ives's June 1933 recording sessions that he wrote
them all out (all except for the part that was in Study #1, although
he wrote a variant out on an unrelated page in the same Hanke copy
photostat -- this is the passage that's also in "Over the
Pavements"). And I think the reason he wrote them out was that
after he heard the recordings his hope that someone else could write
them down from those recordings was impossible. See "Memos" where
he writes that he hopes someone else can write them down for him.
This is why I date the main Transcription source for the Concerto,
Photostat positive copy "C" of the Hanke copy, with the fresh pages
with 2 of the cadenzas to be interleaved (cadenzas 1 & 3 = Studies 9
& 2, respectively), to be Fall 1933.
(now Porter Addresses Scott’s Praise of Hamlin’s recording of the Concord, which Scott stated helped make the Sonata more understandable for him)

Same here. (There's a Gershwinesque quality to that recording.)

Scott:

David P., I'd be interested in hearing what you think of the
differences between the two works. Do you find one them easier to "wrap your
ears around"? Or do you hear them as totally different works? And
which do you prefer?

Porter:

Actually, I don't "prefer" one to the other, although I do like the
orchestral setting more than the piano-only texture. I like a good
performance of the Sonata over a mediocre one, and that's about the
only real difference. The orchestral version does clarify for
other people the piano version. But I got very deep into this
morass (like Universe Symphony or 3rd Orchestral Set) and the works
exist in a different place for me than they would just about anyone
else. You know John Kirkpatrick had little or no interest at all in
the Concerto or the Transcriptions or the Studies other than a very
surface or general sense, or I'm sure he would have seen that the
Concerto was a revivable reality. I mean, look at what the guy
did -- he realizes works like "Johnny Poe" which are a lot more
incomplete, and never got beyond the two editions of Concord with
all the Emerson music! (And he always preferred the 1st edition.
Heh, the story goes that Ives had to send Harmony over to his house
to retrieve his materials for revising the Sonata when it became
clear that JK just wasn't interested enough to do it! And then JK
goes on to record the 2nd edition twice! But he always said that
he preferred the "clarity" of the 1st edition over the
changes/restorations of the 2nd edition.)

I've done this before, but I would like to clarify a few details
just for general interest.

First, the "viola" part is not to be played by a viola
in "Concord." It's simply "the viola part" from the Concerto. It
was also for bassoon and low bells (bells on the first of each set
of triplets, then continuing as the small notes in the Sonata
movement). How it got added the 2nd edition of Concord (through
the growth of the 4th Transcription) shows this quite plainly (a
long story that I won't repeat again here).

Next, there was apparently (in Ives's mind at the very least) a full
score to the Concerto that no longer exists. I found many, many
references to this score in patches for the revised edition and the
Transcriptions. There are even some references to specific page
numbers. But no such score exists now!

The long piano solo at the end: This was originally for the
unpublished "expanded" version of the 4th Transcription.
Kirkpatrick listed it as for a "page 14" of the Concerto, but it's
clearly for p. 14 of a photostat of Hanke's copy of the
Transcriptions.

Lastly, in the 1st edition of Concord, the movement ends with the
loud crashes of the Beethoven motif as in the Concerto (and the 4th
Transcription). The quiet version is new to the 2nd edition of
Concord.

You know, if it wasn't for the various copies of the Transcriptions
and patches for that and for the 2nd edition of Concord, this
Concerto wouldn't exist as it does. I was originally only going to
do the beginning and ending, which are almost complete in Ives's
hand, but I got so much encouragement to do the whole thing that I
went ahead and assembled every reference I could for the Concerto.
Ives did some pretty weird things with this music. You'll find a
source with one pencilled memo in it that tells you a passage was
for strings, or a series of patches labeled as "cadenza" material
that have no obvious relation to one another except that they are
patches for this piece.

In general, Ives wanted to tone down the music for his first edition
of Concord, while he wanted to reinstate much of the dissonances in
the 2nd edition, and he first carried this out by making the
Transcriptions. But he still left out many little details and
dissonances from the Concerto in the 2nd edition, and they only
exist in changes he made to one or two copies of the
Transcriptions. I spent a full week just on this in 1998 at Yale
doing nothing but spending all day in the library going over every
copy of the Transcriptions and Concord that had any kind of
Emersonian memo or emendation, at the same time I was getting proofs
from Schirmer. I wrote up this huge 10-chapter book on the whole
thing, four chapters just on the four Transcriptions as they were
changed from the original draft (this is Tom Brodhead's edition of
the Transcriptions), and it's astounding to see how many big and
little pieces of information are there. (Now, if only I could get
this book published...)

One more thing and then I'll stop. For all that Ives said about
this music being left unfinished, what he actually did, in his
emendations of copied scores and recordings, shows that whatever
unfinished-ness there was was miniscule. Every note that I put in
the score was written by Ives, and whatever scoring I did have to do
was minimal. Heh, I remember Jim Sinclair questioning the cascading
string passage in the "variations" section, and I told him with a
chortle that this was from a big paragraph Ives wrote about how he
had (wanted to or did) score it. And when Jim was recording it,
almost every time he questioned my scoring, I told him where Ives
had detailed that scoring. I did tend to be very conservative when
I was totally on my own, and I told Jim it was OK with me if he
beefed a few places up in those places, but it's kind of funny that
the more anomalous scoring passages are pure Ives.

[Leo K]

Well, I've been listening to this recording more and more:



My favorite recording of the 2nd is the Harold Faberman account, but after listening to this and the Schermerhorn back to back a couple times already, I have to admit that the naxos is really excellant and is winning me over with each new listen. I'm finally getting used to the corrected tempos in the new criticial edition.

The 1st and 2nd Symphonies are works I can put on causually as well as listen seriously with full attention. The 3rd is almost like that as well, but the 4th demands my full attention, rightly so. What I really like about the 2nd is it's effortless dance with the
themes...the tunes develop and progress very naturally, humorously and seriously as well. In any given listening situation, I can
listen just to the surface, or listen at a deep level and find a profound discourse goin on, connected to Ives's own personal
nostalgia, but also connected to a more universal "Americana" that I definitely feel in sympathy with.

The 2nd is so musically evocative of the soil and culture from which it arose in an apparently more "simple" manner than the mature works, and it also evokes nature as well...I often think of thunder-filled clouds in the distance during the 1st movement. Now when I say "simple" I don't mean to imply the 2nd is not sophisticated, rather, I mean to suggest "simple" from the viewpoint of my ears upon hearing the "surface" of the music. Every year I appreciate more what Ives accomplished as a youthful composer.  The 1st String Quartet is another great early work.

As I already mentioned, I recently bought the new critical edition score of the 2nd Symphony (edited by Jonathan Elkus), which is a real wonderful edition, beautifully put together with excellant commentary and an essay by the editor. The 2nd Symphony is fast becoming my favorite Ives symphonic work. I recently read the article "Quotation" and Paraphrase in Ives's Second Symphony by J. Peter Burkholder, and was taken aback with memories of my own grandfather playing many of these old tunes and hymns on his violin when I was young...we used to play Turkey In the Straw and Old Black Joe and etc 

[barry guerrero]

I've got to go back and re-listen to the Naxos recording of the Ives 2nd. For the life of me, I can't remember what was radically different about it. I do remember liking it very much. On the other , I can't say that I've ever warmed to the Robert Browning Overture, but maybe that just takes some repeated listening as well.

[Leo K]

In the Browning Overture, I've just begun to recognize the motives Ives's uses in his song Paracelsus (a poem of Browning's). I discovered today this song was adapted from the overture, but the song is better than the overture in my opinion, although I have warmed to the overture somewhat recently.  I read somewhere that Ives was dissatisfied with the overture overall. 

There are some important differences from the new critical edition of the 2nd from it's older edition.  The exposition repeat is reinstated in the 2nd movement, and the original tempo for the second theme is also reinstated (the tune based on 'Where oh where are the verdant freshman').  Missing bars in the finale are also brought back in...giving the finale a better structure.  Is this what you are referring to Barry?

The naxos recording itself brings a wonderful, fresh interpetation that I find very appealing and I now feel it's the top choice for this work.  I still treasure the Farberman for it's brooding quality however.