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This Element examines the factors that drove the stylistic heterogeneity of Chen Yi and Zhou Long after the Cultural Revolution. Known as 'New Wave' composers, they entered the Central Conservatory of Music once the Cultural Revolution ended and attained international recognition for their modernisms after their early careers in America. Scholars have often treated their early music as contingent outcomes of that cultural and political moment. This Element proposes instead that unique personal factors shaped their modernisms despite their shared experiences of the Cultural Revolution and educations at the Central Conservatory and Columbia University. Through interviews on six stages of their development, the Element examines and explains the reasons for their stylistic divergence.
This Element focuses on how music is experienced, articulated, and reclaimed in urban commercial environments. Special attention is paid to listeners, spaces, and music, co- and re-produced continuously in their triangular relationship affected by social, legal, economic, and technological factors. The study of the historical development of background music industries, construction of contemporary sonic environments, and individual meaning-making is based on extensive data gathered through interviews, surveys, and fieldwork, and supported by archival research. Due to the Finnish context and the ethnomusicological approach, this study is culture-sensitive, providing a fresh 'factory-to-consumer' perspective on a phenomenon generally understood as industry-lead, behavioral, and global. This title is also available as Open Access on Cambridge Core.
This article explores how historical musicology can use computational methods within a minimal computing framework, recovering the performance histories of three migrant musicians, producing valuable new information about their careers. Líza Fuchsová, Maria Lidka, and Paul Hamburger all left Nazi-occupied Europe during the late 1930s and settled permanently in the UK. Fuchsová (1913-1977) was a Czech pianist who became an advocate for Czech musical culture as well as an important piano soloist; Hamburger (1920-2004) was an accompanist and teacher who left Vienna for London and became a senior figure in BBC radio and Guildhall professor; and Lidka (1914-2013) [Marianne Liedtke], was a violinist, orchestra leader and later Royal College of Music professor. Their careers have been underexplored, but machine-read digitised archives have opened new possibilities for finding and sorting what can seem like an overwhelming amount of performance data. This article uses a minimal computing led approach to demonstrate building a robust and accessible structure to interrogate performance data and establish performance histories. This article will demonstrate the value of this framework and will show how it can be applied to historical musicology work.
At the turn of the twentieth century, numerous Argentine intellectuals embraced positivist thinking in order to claim the ‘superiority’ of the white race and exclude the indigenous and African-descendant population from the foundational mythologies of the Argentinian nation-state. Darwin’s ideas on evolution – especially the concept of ‘survival of the fittest’ as filtered through the work of Herbert Spencer – coloured the discourses of a myriad of Argentine intellectuals, including artists. The creation of a nationalist music was a foremost concern among Argentine composers, who, influenced by these ideas, believed an Argentinian ‘high’ art should ‘elevate’ folk music through European techniques. In this paper, I concentrate on composer Alberto Williams to see how his career and relevant position in the musical milieu influenced and shaped the construction of an Argentine musical canon. I particularly focus on Williams’s speech, later published as an article, titled ‘La patria y la música’ (‘Fatherland and music’), to examine how his ideas on ‘music evolution’ and ‘race’, influenced by racial scientific ideas taken from European Positivism and Social Darwinism, shaped the discourses and development of a national (or nationalist) music in Argentina at the end of the nineteenth and through the twentieth centuries.
During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Muslim intellectuals sought to articulate new forms of Islamic thought and practice that would be suitable for the modern world. Islamic modernist movements drew on concepts of civilization, progress and science that were integral to European imperialism while also constituting a critical response to the latter. In this essay, I examine the views of prominent Ottoman Muslim reformists concerning music, and situate them within a transnational debate about Islam and modernity. While the views of earlier reformers were shaped by Eurocentric notions of musical progress, an oppositional discourse emerged at the end of the nineteenth century. This discourse, associated especially with Rauf Yekta (1871–1935), appropriated the idea of ‘the Orient’ in order to establish a pan-Islamic narrative of music history, which also emphasized the scientific aspects of Islamicate music theory. In the final part of the essay, I discuss how debates about musical reform were related to the political dynamics of the late Ottoman Empire, particularly in terms of religious and ethnic identity. In conclusion, I argue that the discursive categories of the late nineteenth century continue to underly music historiographies both in the West and in other places, precisely as a consequence of the global connections that emerged during this period. In order to write more ‘global’ histories of music, it is therefore necessary to move beyond the analysis of Western colonialist representations by engaging more closely with non-European sources and discourses, which reveal more entangled and ambivalent stories about music, empire and modernity.
Stanford matriculated at Queens’ in October 1870. From the beginning he felt at home since many of his old Dublin friends were students at the same university. As one of Cambridge's first organ scholars he applied himself with customary vigour to his duties in chapel (a building which now houses the Library). Special services and performances of sacred music soon began to attract attention across the university. The young Irishman was not only a fine organist but a notable choir-trainer. The Cambridge University Musical Society (CUMS) was also quickly aware of his presence. Stanford was elected a member of the society at a meeting of 25 October with his debut as a pianist occurring shortly afterwards on 30 November. This performance, warmly applauded by the audience, was to signal his rapid rise to prominence within the hierarchy of Cambridge music.
During his first term at the University there was little opportunity for composition, but he did find time to complete a setting of Thomas Campbell's ‘To the evening star’ (dated 18 December 1870) whose harmonic world seems haunted by Schumann's Frauenliebe und Leben. He also finished a Pater Noster for Stewart and the Dublin University Choral Society which was performed on 19 December. The Christmas vacation was spent largely socialising among old friends. He joined a populous gathering at Adare Manor, Lord Dunraven's country seat in Co. Limerick and later visited the Graves family at Parknasilla where he took part as pianist and composer in a satirical sketch on Darwinism concocted by Alfred, Charles and Arnold.
Back at Cambridge in early 1871, Stanford continued to make his mark as the most promising musician the university had seen in decades. The CUMS programmes for the year show that he was already dominating events. In March he appeared as pianist in Beethoven's Piano Trio Op. 3 No. 1 and in June he was the soloist in a concerto by Weber. In fact Stanford's speedy rise to fame occurred at an opportune moment in the history of the society. It so happened that the health of the society's conductor, John Larkin Hopkins, had begun to fail. In February 1870 he had tendered his resignation to CUMS with the promise that George Garrett, the organist of St John’s, would take over his responsibilities. Hopkins’ resignation was rejected by the CUMS committee, but it still left the society with an uncertain future.
Stanford's career as a conductor had enjoyed a modest revival with his appointment in 1906 as conductor of the Sunday Concert Society, but owing to considerable financial losses on the concerts, the Society decided to give up its contract with the LSO and hand the entire operation over to Henry Wood and the Queen's Hall Orchestra. Visits to provinces were now a rarer event. Apart from invitations to conduct at the Three Choirs Festival, he made one visit to Birmingham in March 1908 and another to Liverpool in March 1909 to conduct his ‘Irish’ Symphony. The following year he was invited to conduct the Ode to Discord at the rapidly expanding Brighton Festival and, as a guest of the Dover Musical Festival, he was asked to direct a revival of The Battle of the Baltic. However, with more established works, Stanford was increasingly willing to attend performances of his music rather than take the baton. He was, for example, happy to stand by while Hamish MacCunn (as part of the Beecham Opera Season) undertook the direction of Shamus at His Majesty's Theatre in May 1910, and George Bennett (organist of Lincoln Cathedral) conducted the Stabat Mater at the Lincoln Festival in June. He was also ready to fulfil other roles, whether in the capacity of accompanist to Plunket Greene (who remained the foremost interpreter of his Irish song cycles and folk-song arrangements), or as President of the Cheltenham Choral Society and the Rodewald Concert Society in Liverpool.
Henry Wood continued to promote his music; his wife Olga Mikhailov sang two of Stanford's songs from The Triumphs of Love – ‘I think that we were children’ and ‘O flames of passion’ – specially orchestrated for her to sing at a Promenade Concert on 23 October 1909. It was her last public appearance. In great pain she managed stoically to perform with her usual professional deportment, but soon after she was removed to a nursing home, underwent an operation, but died on 20 December. Landon Ronald, who had made his name as an assistant conductor with the LSO, and would soon establish his reputation with the New Symphony Orchestra, conducted Stanford's First Irish Rhapsody in Amsterdam and Rome to great acclaim and revived the Sixth Symphony at Queen's Hall on 2 December 1909.
On 16 February 1882 Stanford received an official letter from the Prince of Wales inviting him to a meeting at St James's Palace on 28 February in order to discuss the establishment of a new college of music to replace the National Training School. The very issue of a new Royal College of Music had been the subject of debate for some time, for which there were delicate political matters to resolve. The Royal Academy of Music had once been the target of Henry Cole's aspirations for a new, enlarged national conservatory of music; but after the plan was rejected by Sterndale Bennett, who wanted the RAM to remain independent, Cole decided to push ahead with his own plans for a National Training School of Music with royal support.1 The project of the NTSM, opened in 1876 under the direction of Arthur Sullivan, was brought to a close under the leadership of John Stainer in 1882. Though moderately successful in its aims, the NTSM had never been more than a preliminary foundation for a more socially progressive institution initially conceived by the Prince Consort after the Great Exhibition in 1851.
Momentum for the new college began to gather during 1881, and in 1882 discussion of its constitution, accommodation and concomitant finance, with George Grove at the helm, was ubiquitous in the musical press. Stanford, anxious to be included in the new venture – he had been too young and inexperienced for the NTSM – accepted the Prince of Wales's invitation to attend the first meeting at St James's Palace in February 1882 with alacrity. Privately he expressed his views on the matter with Hudson, and there was even the suggestion that, if London did not want the new conservatoire, then it might be situated in Cambridge:
You know of course that the Academy has refused to unite itself to the South Kensington Music School. The idea is to make the South Kensington School an incorporated or affiliated (to be subsequently settled) school of music to the University, an arrangement which will put an end to the present anomaly of musical degrees without musical education.
We shall have P. Wales, D. Edinburgh, P. Christian, and all the swells with us, besides the purse strings of Freake and others who will do anything to make the School a genuine school of real art.
Ill-health cut short Stanford's final stay in Berlin. ‘I am happily nearly all right again now,’ he wrote to Joachim, ‘and looking forward with tremendous excitement to the 8th.’ The Lent Term of 1877 was, as usual, a busy one. Stanford returned to take up his more permanent duties with the chapel choir at Trinity, though it was not until Lady Day (25 March) that he was officially confirmed in his position as Chapel Organist. Conditions for the post included a stipend of £250 together with rooms and Commons, though it was still for the Choir Committee to draw up a new set of conditions. Though these proved to have some advantages, notably sanction to be continuously absent from college during all weeks in the year when there was no choral service, they were also a source of irritation, particularly since the Precentor still retained the responsibility for the selection of music.
The ‘Wednesday Pops’ proceeded with increased vigour. Of the six scheduled concerts in February and March, Stanford appeared in the first four as pianist with members of the ‘Stanford Quartet’, as a duettist with Fuller Maitland in Schumann's Bilder aus Osten Op. 66 (21 February) and in his own ‘Andante and Scherzo from a Serenade’ (7 March) which were most probably two movements of his later Serenade Op. 18 for orchestra. February also saw the completion of Three Ditties of the Olden Time which consisted of two settings of Sir John Suckling's well-known lyrics (‘Out upon it’ and ‘Why so pale and wan’) and one by Herrick (‘To carnations’); they were published by Stanley Lucas.
The high point of the term for CUMS was of course the choral and orchestral concert of 8 March given at the Guildhall in aid of Addenbrooke's Hospital. After a morning rehearsal of the fifty-piece, London-based orchestra (an expenditure for the Society of £217/-/10d) and chorus of 150, Joachim received his degree in the afternoon. The concert in the evening proved to be a major social occasion attracting the likes of Lord Leighton, Robert Browning, George Lewes, Edward Dannreuther, August Manns, Manuel Garcia, Ebenezer Prout and the usual fraternity of critics: Bennett, Grüneisen, Hueffer and Davison. A concert in Manchester prevented Hallé from attending, and the up-and-coming Parry was in Cannes, detained by the necessity of his wife's convalescence.
Even before tendering his resignation to Trinity College, Stanford had already been thinking about moving from Harvey Road. Commitments to the Bach Choir, the RCM, the Opera Class and proximity to the expanding musical life of Britain's capital made the acquisition of a house in London all the more imperative. A house at 55 Holland Street in Kensington (close to High Street, Kensington) was found which suited his needs perfectly. It had more room than his Cambridge dwelling, it was located in a desirable if expensive area and it was within easy reach of the College and the city centre. It was not possible, however, to move into Holland Street until February, so he and his family spent most of January at St Leonard’s, while he found temporary lodgings with Morton Lathom, a Bach Choir colleague, in Norfolk Street, Park Lane. Rehearsals for Becket were also gathering momentum and Stanford was keen to coach the singers and chorus, as he explained to Bram Stoker:
I forgot to ask you to get Miss G. Ward (Eleanor I believe) to look at the little song in Act I on which hinges nearly all the music so she must positively sing it even in a kind of humming way. I suggested in your absence John Sandbrook, formerly of the Royal College, for the baritone in the duet. I think we fixed on your former young lady in Henry VIII for the soprano. I shall be in town next Wednesday morning if I can be of any use let me know. I should vastly like (even with a piano only) to meet Miss Ward and show her the song, and if any way possible Miss Terry and show her the music to Rainbow stay that we may hit on the right declamation, also if possible the two singers. This would break the back of all the musical difficulties.
Stanford was, however, forced to forego the premiere of Becket at the Lyceum Theatre on 6 February 1893 owing to an obligation he had made to review the first performance of Verdi's Falstaff for The Daily Graphic and the Fortnightly Review. The opera was to be premiered on 9 February 1893 at La Scala, Milan, and the Stanfords were to be guests of the librettist, Arrigo Boïto, whom they had befriended during a stay with Piatti at Cadenabbia in 1889.
On 7 October 1918, a month before Armistice, the death of Parry was announced. For Stanford the news came as a terrible shock. Though they had been on better terms since their row in early 1917, both men undoubtedly still felt bruised by their earlier differences. Parry's death unfortunately prevented Stanford from delivering his masterly Magnificat in B flat Op. 164 for a cappella double choir (finished in September 1918) to his old friend, which only added to the composer's state of grief. This fine, and often-performed work (though a challenge to the best of choirs), in many ways paid tribute to Parry's stature as a choral composer. The double-choir scoring acknowledges the close link between Blest Pair of Sirens and the two men, and, at the same time, its clear reference to Bach's effusive eight-part ‘Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied’ (which Stanford conducted numerous times) and his own Magnificat (to which Parry had also expressed his open reverence in his choral Magnificat of 1897) honoured Parry's devotion to Bach both in his music and his study of the composer of 1909. Stanford's remarkable setting is, like much of his service music and anthems, symphonic in scope, but here the treatment of the text is much more expansive and not confined by the usual constraints of the Anglican liturgy. One is immediately aware of this in the generous and rhythmically dynamic tripartite opening section and in the four contrasting movements that follow in E flat (‘Qui a fecit mihi magna’), C minor (‘Fecit potentiam’), and D flat (‘Esurientes implevit buonis’) before B flat is restored with the final verse of text (‘Suscepit Israel’) in a splendid gathering of momentum from an initial pastoral mood to a buoyant, climactic ‘alla breve’. And to reinforce this return to the tonic, Stanford recalls the opening material in a more truncated form, using the text of the doxology. The concluding ‘Amen’, furthermore, is one of the composer's most thrilling in its sudden epigrammatic divergence to G flat directly before the spacious final cadence.
With the help of his friends, such as M. R. James, Parratt and Arthur Balfour, Stanford was able to press home his desire to see Parry buried in St Paul's Cathedral and to hear his own anthem, ‘I heard a voice from heaven’, sung at the memorial service on 16 October.
At the end of each entry an abbreviated reference to the location of the autograph manuscript (Aut.) has been included (see list of abbreviations). ‘Unperformed’ and ‘unpublished’ both refer to the composer's lifetime.
Choral Works
Published only in vocal score except where ‘full score’ is indicated. Unless otherwise indicated, a normal orchestra is used. Opus numbers, dedications, dates of completion (provided by the composer),and dates of first performances are given together with any revisions. Unless otherwise stated, first performances were conducted by the composer.