Latest news with #Haydn
Boston Globe
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Boston Globe
Roger Norrington, iconoclastic British conductor, dies at 91
He led both period-instrument and modern orchestras, using the same interpretive principles, and though some of his performances drew criticism for their brash iconoclasm, many listeners regarded them as insightful and refreshingly original. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up 'As ever, with his highly idiosyncratic conducting style, one gets, in addition to a Haydn symphony, the Roger Norrington show,' Boston Globe critic Jeremy Eichler wrote in a review of a Handel and Haydn Society's performance of Haydn's Symphony No. 44 in 2008. 'He seems to delight in exuding his own personality at the orchestra through the medium of the music.' Advertisement Mr. Norrington served as an artistic director of the Handel and Hayden Society from 2006 to 2009. 'The organization feels more interesting when he's around,' Eichler wrote. Lanky, bespectacled, bearded and balding, Mr. Norrington projected both affability and authority, and he loved making the case for his ideas -- not only in interviews but also in seemingly off-the-cuff comments at his concerts. He often cited centuries-old treatises as well as his delight in the 'pure' sound, as he put it, of strings playing without vibrato. He once famously referred to vibrato as 'a modern drug.' Advertisement 'It's not about consecrating a sacred object,' Mr. Norrington said about conducting. 'It's about exploring and being curious and having fun.' Rachel Papo/The New York Times Stu Rosner Stu Rosner Toward the end of his career, he preferred to conduct while seated, usually on a high swivel chair that allowed him to turn to the audience to smile conspiratorially at a light moment within the music, and even to encourage applause. He was known to tell audiences that they could applaud between the movements of a symphony or a concerto, a common practice in the 18th and 19th centuries that is frowned on today. He reveled in being provocative. In a 2021 interview with The Telegraph, he referred to his 2007 recording of Mahler's Second Symphony as his 'last hand grenade.' International fame came late to Mr. Norrington. He had built a solid reputation as a choral conductor in the 1970s, when he made a series of well-received recordings with the Heinrich Schütz Choir, an amateur group he formed in 1962 and named after the German baroque composer. He was also the founding music director of the Kent Opera, England's first regional opera company, established by singer Norman Platt in 1969. Yet he was scarcely known outside Britain until 1987, when he released revelatory recordings of the Beethoven Second and Eighth symphonies. They were the first installments of a complete cycle with the London Classical Players, a period-instrument ensemble that Mr. Norrington founded in 1978 and led until 1997. 'I was happy to take things slowly,' he told The Telegraph in 2021. 'I didn't conduct a Beethoven symphony until I was 50. So when I finally stood up in front of the great orchestras of America and Europe as a guest conductor, I actually knew what I wanted. And this meant I could relax and treat music-making as something that is full of love and laughter. Advertisement 'It's not about consecrating a sacred object,' he continued. 'It's about exploring and being curious and having fun.' Mr. Norrington's first Beethoven recordings were striking in their adherence to the composer's metronome markings, which most conductors have considered impossibly fast or, in a few cases, impractically slow. The recordings immediately found a large audience, and by the time the cycle was complete, in 1989, Mr. Norrington's career was white hot. Roger Arthur Carver Norrington was born in Oxford, England, on March 16, 1934. His father, Arthur Norrington, worked for Oxford University Press and later became president of Trinity College, Oxford, and the vice chancellor of the University of Oxford. Roger's mother, Edith Joyce (Carver) Norrington, was a gifted amateur pianist. Roger studied the violin as a child and sang in choirs as a boy soprano. When he auditioned for a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan's 'Iolanthe,' he won the lead role. 'I realized I had some sort of gift,' he told The Guardian in 2007. But, he added, 'I thought I would be like my parents and spend my life doing music in my spare time.' When he entered Clare College, Cambridge, after completing his national service in the Royal Air Force, it was to study English literature. Nevertheless, he performed with -- and, in his final year, conducted -- student ensembles. Advertisement After graduating, Mr. Norrington became an editor at Oxford University Press. But he continued to sing in choirs and to play violin in orchestras and chamber groups. When a new edition of choral works by Heinrich Schütz was published in 1962, he became so eager to conduct the music that he formed the Heinrich Schütz Choir. Despite the choir's name, its repertoire extended from the Renaissance through the 20th century, and it quickly won enthusiastic reviews and a following. It was not until Oxford sent him on a six-month posting to Nairobi, Kenya, late in 1962 that he resolved to devote himself fully to music. When he returned to Britain, he left his job and enrolled at the Royal College of Music in London, where he studied composition, music history and conducting (with Adrian Boult) and played percussion in the orchestra. Recordings by Austrian period-instrument specialist Nikolaus Harnoncourt led Mr. Norrington to reconsider his ideas about conducting and orchestral sound. They also inspired him to read treatises by 17th- and 18th-century musicians and to seek out musicologists such as Thurston Dart, who shaped his ideas about the performance of early music. Norrington's success with the Schütz Choir led to his appointment as music director of the Kent Opera in 1969. In 1986, he established the Early Opera Group with choreographer Kay Lawrence. He and Lawrence married that year. A previous marriage, to Susan McLean May, ended in divorce in 1982. After his Beethoven recordings won him a large international audience, Mr. Norrington began performing regularly in the United States. He made his New York debut in 1989 at Carnegie Hall, leading the Orchestra of St. Luke's, a modern-instruments orchestra. Writing in The New York Times, Will Crutchfield described his performance of Beethoven's Eighth Symphony as 'exhilarating, witty, precise, full of verve and subtlety, fully convincing as to tempo (using Beethoven's markings with some modification for practicality's sake, rather than throwing them out as most conductors do) and wonderfully played.' Advertisement In addition to novel tempos and the absence of vibrato, Mr. Norrington considered a balance of intuition and scholarship essential to his interpretations. He rebelled against the notion that one could re-create historical performance styles by merely playing what was written on the page. And he inveighed against those who treated performances as museum pieces. 'A performance is for now, and one instinctively tailors it for today,' he said in 1989, adding, 'To say that you don't put your personality into it is rubbish.' In November 2021, after Mr. Norrington conducted his farewell concert -- leading the Royal Northern Sinfonia, in northern England, in an all-Haydn concert -- The Guardian called him 'arguably the most important British conductor of the last half century.' Kay Lawrence died in November. Mr. Norrington leaves his son, Thomas; two children from his marriage to May, Ben and Amy Norrington; three grandchildren; a sister, Pippa Sandford; and a brother, Humphrey. 'My story, from 1962, has been one of knocking down wall after wall and seeing what happened,' Mr. Norrington told The Guardian in 2007. 'So to discover right at the end that these great traditional European and American orchestras can be part of it as well has been wonderful. Now even they are beginning to realize you don't need to put vibrato on everything, like sugar.' He added: 'So if, on the day I die, the world is playing without vibrato, of course I will be delighted. But even if they aren't, I'll still be delighted because at least I did.' Advertisement This article originally appeared in
The Guardian
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Roger Norrington: a maverick, an irresistible firebrand and a musical visionary
The conductor Sir Roger Norrington, whose death was announced yesterday at the age of 91, remains still the maverick presence that classical music needs. His mission wasn't only to make us hear the repertoire we thought it knew through the prism of the techniques and playing styles of its time, rather than the ossifications of later traditions. He was also an irresistible firebrand in performance, whose energy wasn't only about inspiring his performers to get closer to the music they were playing, it was also an invitation to his audiences that their listening should be involved too. Norrington wanted everyone to feel the urgency of Beethoven's rhetorical power and rudeness, from the radiance of one of his favourite pieces, the Missa Solemnis, to the emetic contrabassoon in the finale of the Ninth Symphony, which was always the richest of raspberries in his performances and recordings. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Haydn's symphonies, particularly, were pieces of participative performance art in Norrington's hands, in which his delight in sharing the radical humour and jaw-dropping discontinuities of the music was so evident. The conductor would turn round to his listeners - especially in the Prommers in the arena of the Royal Albert Hall in one of his 42 appearances at the Proms - to make sure we all realised just how weird and wonderful this music really was. The revelations of hearing Norrington's historically informed musical mission in action defined an era, along with his fellow iconoclasts, such as Nikolaus Harnoncourt, Christopher Hogwood and John Eliot Gardiner, all of whom founded ensembles of period instruments, like Norrington's London Classical Players, and took the lessons they had learnt therein to transform the sound world of modern instrument orchestras. Norrington's work with the Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra is the sound of his later legacy in action, in Brahms, Berlioz, Tchaikovsky, and Elgar, as well as Beethoven and Mozart. But Norrington's distinctiveness was his unshakeable belief that there was a right way to play Beethoven – and a wrong one. He was also completely committed to his idea that the curse of vibrato was an aberration in performances of all music composed before the early 20th century, whether Bach to Mahler. While his vibrato-free performances brought astonishing moments – listen to the opening of the slow movement of Bruckner's sixth symphony, and connected music from across the centuries, it was an experiment that didn't catch on. Or at least it hasn't yet. Norrington's many crusades for the right tempo and textures in Beethoven's symphonies, for the clarity and directness of drama in Bach's Passions, for the transparency of sound world in Wagner and Debussy, have had repercussions across the whole of classical music, even with conductors and orchestras who might not think they're working under his influence. Norrington's decades-long mission to wean musical culture off the drug of vibrato may yet have its day. And his work remains fresh and thrilling. His Beethoven recordings with the London Classical Players - all the symphonies, and the piano concertos with Melvyn Tan, from the 1980s - are as impishly radical as ever. The paradox of Norrington's performances is that what seemed like austerity and ideology was in fact a generous invitation to re-hear the incendiary meanings and power of music that had been taken for granted for too long. Norrington was associated with what used to be called 'authenticity' in the performance of 17th, 18th, and 19th century repertoires. But he was too intelligent to believe that what he was doing was a mere restoration job or a return to a sound world of Mozart's or Beethoven's time - something that can never truly be recaptured. He wasn't a musician trying to return to the past. Instead he was going back to find a musical future. The sound of his recordings is the sound of the indelible imagination of all those composers he loved being released in all their rapier wit, sublimity and delirium into our time.
The Guardian
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Roger Norrington: a maverick, an irresistible firebrand and a musical visionary
The conductor Sir Roger Norrington, whose death was announced yesterday at the age of 91, remains still the maverick presence that classical music needs. His mission wasn't only to make us hear the repertoire we thought it knew through the prism of the techniques and playing styles of its time, rather than the ossifications of later traditions. He was also an irresistible firebrand in performance, whose energy wasn't only about inspiring his performers to get closer to the music they were playing, it was also an invitation to his audiences that their listening should be involved too. Norrington wanted everyone to feel the urgency of Beethoven's rhetorical power and rudeness, from the radiance of one of his favourite pieces, the Missa Solemnis, to the emetic contrabassoon in the finale of the Ninth Symphony, which was always the richest of raspberries in his performances and recordings. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Haydn's symphonies, particularly, were pieces of participative performance art in Norrington's hands, in which his delight in sharing the radical humour and jaw-dropping discontinuities of the music was so evident. The conductor would turn round to his listeners - especially in the Prommers in the arena of the Royal Albert Hall in one of his 42 appearances at the Proms - to make sure we all realised just how weird and wonderful this music really was. The revelations of hearing Norrington's historically informed musical mission in action defined an era, along with his fellow iconoclasts, such as Nikolaus Harnoncourt, Christopher Hogwood and John Eliot Gardiner, all of whom founded ensembles of period instruments, like Norrington's London Classical Players, and took the lessons they had learnt therein to transform the sound world of modern instrument orchestras. Norrington's work with the Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra is the sound of his later legacy in action, in Brahms, Berlioz, Tchaikovsky, and Elgar, as well as Beethoven and Mozart. But Norrington's distinctiveness was his unshakeable belief that there was a right way to play Beethoven – and a wrong one. He was also completely committed to his idea that the curse of vibrato was an aberration in performances of all music composed before the early 20th century, whether Bach to Mahler. While his vibrato-free performances brought astonishing moments – listen to the opening of the slow movement of Bruckner's sixth symphony, and connected music from across the centuries, it was an experiment that didn't catch on. Or at least it hasn't yet. Norrington's many crusades for the right tempo and textures in Beethoven's symphonies, for the clarity and directness of drama in Bach's Passions, for the transparency of sound world in Wagner and Debussy, have had repercussions across the whole of classical music, even with conductors and orchestras who might not think they're working under his influence. Norrington's decades-long mission to wean musical culture off the drug of vibrato may yet have its day. And his work remains fresh and thrilling. His Beethoven recordings with the London Classical Players - all the symphonies, and the piano concertos with Melvyn Tan, from the 1980s - are as impishly radical as ever. The paradox of Norrington's performances is that what seemed like austerity and ideology was in fact a generous invitation to re-hear the incendiary meanings and power of music that had been taken for granted for too long. Norrington was associated with what used to be called 'authenticity' in the performance of 17th, 18th, and 19th century repertoires. But he was too intelligent to believe that what he was doing was a mere restoration job or a return to a sound world of Mozart's or Beethoven's time - something that can never truly be recaptured. He wasn't a musician trying to return to the past. Instead he was going back to find a musical future. The sound of his recordings is the sound of the indelible imagination of all those composers he loved being released in all their rapier wit, sublimity and delirium into our time.
Bangkok Post
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Bangkok Post
A Celestial Triumph
The Bangkok Combined Choir and Orchestra (BCCO) delivered a performance of transcendent beauty late last month, presenting Haydn's The Creation for the very first time in the choir's 70-year history -- to a full house. For Assoc Prof Dr Charunee Hongcharu, one of Thailand's most respected female conductors, the concert was more than just a musical event -- it was a profound celebration of divine creation and universal harmony. The scale was majestic: 102 choristers and 47 musicians, all volunteers, from across the globe -- including Thailand, Korea, the Philippines, France, Singapore, the United States and African nations -- united to bring to life Haydn's oratorio, inspired by the Book Of Genesis, Psalms, and Milton's Paradise Lost. Their combined artistry, supported by a superb cast of soloists -- Barbara Zion (Gabriel), Aritach Tantipanjwit (Uriel), Kittinant Chinsamran (Raphael and Adam) and Manasanun Aksornteang (Eve) -- captured every nuance of Haydn's score, from the dramatic emergence of light to the joyous creation of birds, lions, oceans and humankind. As the final notes faded into air, the audience erupted into thunderous applause, hands clapping like rolling thunder in a spontaneous ovation that echoed the celestial majesty of the performance itself. What resonated most deeply was not only the musical brilliance but the thematic message: The Creation calls us to reflect on the splendour of nature, the dignity of human life and the divine harmony from which all things arise. In a time of division and unrest, this work reminds us of our shared origins -- and the peace and beauty we were meant to embody. This mid-year concert was made possible through the groundbreaking patronage of whose recent commitment to the arts has already left a profound mark on Bangkok's cultural landscape. Their support enabled BCCO's diverse ensemble to offer this powerful gift to the public -- completely free of charge. By evening's end, the hall stood still in awe. In sound and spirit, The Creation had been reborn -- not just as a masterwork of the Enlightenment, but as a living testament to unity, beauty and hope. Looking ahead, music lovers should mark their calendars for BCCO's cherished year-end tradition -- Handel's Messiah -- tentatively scheduled for Dec 13 and 14. It promises to be another uplifting and unmissable experience.
New York Times
18-06-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
5 Highlights From the Pianist Alfred Brendel's Sprawling Career
The classical music industry valorizes sweeping range, favoring artists whose programs cross centuries. But the magisterial pianist Alfred Brendel, who died on Tuesday at 94, was of the old school, focusing his long career on a small number of canonical composers from the same era: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert. He nurtured their works with almost spiritual diligence, performing and reperforming, recording and rerecording. Scholarly and eccentric, acute in essays as well as in concert, Brendel rose from obscurity in Austria to become a best-selling, hall-filling star. His extended period under the radar perhaps contributed to his confidence in his idiosyncrasies: both his rumpled onstage manner and his fearless deployment of a sound that could be cool, even hard. That sound was part of Brendel's resolutely lucid approach to music. Avoiding the impression of milking scores for excess emotion, he gained a reputation for intellectual, analytical performances. Some found his playing a little dry, but others heard a kind of transcendently austere authority. Here are a few highlights from his enormous discography. Haydn Brendel championed Haydn's and Schubert's sonatas at a time when not everyone placed those pieces at the center of the pantheon. You can hear some of his flintiness of tone in the Presto from Haydn's Sonata in E minor, the feeling that he's poking at the notes. But the livelier passages alternate with slightly, alluringly softened ones, for an effect of unexpected complexity in fairly straightforward music. His fast playing never seems dashed off; he is always palpably thinking. And his diamond-sharp pointedness in the opening of the sonata's Adagio second movement eventually travels toward mysterious tenderness. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
