Seventh Symphony Research Articles

Searching for the Plot: Charles-Valentin Alkan'sSouvenirs: Trois morceaux dans le genre pathétique, Op. 15

In the early nineteenth century, the piano étude was conceived as an outgrowth of the eighteenth-centuryexercice, perpetuating the idea of mechanical virtuosity devoid of any poetic meaning; but it was also shaped by the Romanticpièce de caractère.Drawing upon the context of Parisian musical life in the 1830s (notably the reception of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony), this article discusses Charles-Valentin Alkan's piano étudesSouvenirs: Trois morceaux dans le genre pathétique, op. 15 (Paris, 1837). This work shows how virtuoso idiomatic figures can act as genre markers, thereby allowing the encoding of a specific extramusical meaning. It further addresses the issue of the privileged understanding between the composer and his performer that goes back to eighteenth-century tradition.

Leaving Home, Orchestral Music in the 20th Century, Vol. 1: Dancing on a Volcano (review)

Reviewed by: Leaving Home. Orchestral Music in the 20th Century, Vol. 1: Dancing on a Volcano Murray Dineen Leaving Home. Orchestral Music in the 20th Century, Vol. 1: Dancing on a Volcano. DVD. City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Simon Rattle. With Felicity Palmer and Gidon Kremer. Leipzig, Germany: Arthaus Musik, 2005. 102033. $24.99. Originally produced for video in 1996, "Leaving Home," is the first of a seven-part series re-issued on DVD and devoted, as its title indicates, to "Orchestral Music in the 20th Century." If the other volumes hold to the quality of this one, the collection will be of considerable attraction not merely to the lay listener interested in the subject but more so to teachers of twentieth-century music, a difficult occupation at the best of times. By the brilliant, closeup portraits of musicians in the act of performing some rather astringent twentieth-century repertoires, students will learn what is so difficult to teach in a classroom—that musicians actually play this stuff, and what is more, draw from it an evident pleasure comparable to (if it doesn't exceed) the pleasure of performing earlier, more familiar repertoires. The program is a blend of lecture (Sir Simon Rattle, usually seated at the keyboard), documentary with voice over (again Rattle, with either period stills or short period films), and illustrative excerpts (usually the aforementioned closeup shots of performing musicians, but sometimes pleasant if innocuous shots of a broad and gentle waterfall [which, given the Viennese centricity of the subject, is a little too reminiscent of the sewer crawl in Orson Welles's The Third Man]). The lecture is undergraduate survey material, largely the received view of Fin-de-siècle artistic turmoil and revolution. Rattle is a little wooden, and quite evidently reading a prompt screen. But the package is congenially produced, and the average undergraduate should find it easily comprehensible. Presumably Alexandra Maria Dielitz, the author of the text, has taught, for the text reads like a carefully considered lecture for university entry-level music majors or for general arts students, at any baccalaureate level with an interest in the subject matter. The real gems here, as noted above, are the shots of musical performances. The two soloists are excellent: Felicity Palmer, mezzo soprano, sings a torrid Clytemnestra excerpt from Strauss's Elektra, while Gidon Kremer gives a fine reading of an excerpt from Berg's Violin Concerto. The remainder of the visual DVD brings together excerpts from the prelude to Tristan und Isolde, Schoenberg's Transfigured Night and his Five Orchestral Pieces, op. 16, Mahler's Seventh Symphony, and Webern's Five Orchestral Pieces, op. 10, in a well conceived tour of the principal threads of early twentieth-century orchestral repertoire. Most important for teaching purposes, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra appears in informal dress in keeping with the intimacy of the camera shots. The usual stiffness, so unattractive in a music that is already so unfamiliar, is replaced with a cotton shirt and blue jean informality. You cannot help but like these affable musicians, who might easily serve as role models to orchestral instrument majors. In the visual part of the DVD, the program runs slightly under an hour in length. Added on are two audio-only tracks of Transfigured Night and the Berg Violin Concerto. (Still photographs appear on screen as the works are played, among these are colorful shots of Schoenberg's paintings.) Although the provenance of these two tracks isn't clear, they would appear to be taken from the Naxos library, with someone other than Rattle conducting. The disc is rounded out with a collection of short biographies. In summary, the disc is highly recommended for use in university or college [End Page 787] teaching. Arthaus, the producer, has promised the remaining six discs by the end of 2005. From the prospectus, it would appear the series is devoted to orchestral music principally of the first six decades of the century. If the remaining discs are engineered as well as the first, the result will be an excellent teaching tool, not without its attractions for a general audience. Murray Dineen University of Ottawa Copyright © 2006 the Music...

‘È l’ora della prova': Berio's finale for Puccini's Turandot

This article examines the new finale by Luciano Berio for Puccini's Turandot, commissioned by the Festival de Musica de Gran Canarias and prèmiered in 2002. This finale constitutes a priviledged point of view from which to revisit not only the composer's life-long engagement with musical works of the past, but also his theatrical aesthetics, thrown into sharp relief by the particular challenges of this endeavour. Berio's compositional process is carefully reconstructed, from his interventions on the libretto to his respectful yet creative use of the numerous sketches left behind by Puccini. Particular attention is then paid to Berio's choice of reminiscences from earlier scenes of the opera, as well as to his citations from Wagner's Tristan, Mahler's Seventh Symphony and Schönberg's Gurrelieder. A separate section is devoted to Berio's most original contribution: a long orchestral interlude at the moment when Calaf kisses Turandot. The article concludes with a detailed scrutiny of Berio's orchestration.

Late Beethoven: music, thought, imagination

Acknowledgments Prologue: A Sea Change 1. The End of a Beginning: The Diabelli Variations 2. Beyond Classicism 3. Some Romantic Images 4. Pastoral, Rhetoric, Structure: The Violin Sonata in G, Op. 96 5. Reason and Imagination: The Aesthetic Dimension 6. The Seventh Symphony and the Rhythms of Antiquity 7. The Masonic Thread 8. The Masonic Imagination 9. The Shape of a Journey: The Diabelli Variations 10. Intimations of the Sacred 11. The Sense of an Ending: The Ninth Symphony 12. The Healing Power of Music Abbreviations Notes Index

Seas, Cities and Dreams: The Paintings of Ivan Aivazovsky by Gianni Caffiero Ivan Samarine Ivan Aivazovsky (review)

548 SEER, 8i, 3, 2003 a bibliographywhich gives, where appropriate,the Russian titles followed by their Germanversions;and indexes of names and works. Although based mainly on previouslypublishedRussianmaterials,some of considerableantiquity,this is a timely and most welcome book. If the present reviewer may be allowed to make a practical suggestion to those not yet acquainted with the work of Aleksandr Lokshin, the Seventh Symphony (1972), incorporating settings of thirteenth-century Japanese poetry, is a characteristicand very rewardingexample of his music. Thanksare due to ErnstKuhn foranotherhighlyworthwhileinitiative,and congratulationsto both the editorsfor a fascinatingcompilation. School ofSlavonic andEastEuropeani Studies ARNOLD MCMILLIN UTniversity College London Caffiero, Gianni and Samarine, Ivan. Seas,CitiesandDreams. 7hePaintings of IvanAivazovsky. Alexandria Press, London, in association with Laurence King, 2000. 323 pp. Illustrations.SelectedBibliography.Notes. Appendices . Index. ?6o.oo. IN I833, the sixteen-year-oldartistIvan Aivazovskiitravelledfrom his native Crimea to St Petersburg to begin a six-year scholarship at the Imperial Academy of Arts.Just two years later, Nicholas I paid a thousand rubles for one of Aivazovskii'spaintings and ordered the young artistto accompany his son, Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolaevich, on naval exerciseswith the Baltic fleet.This imperialorderprovedseminal,launchingAivazovskiias a maritime painter xvhowould win commissions from Turkishsultansas well as Russian tsars. Seas,CitiesandDreamsis the first account in English of his remarkable career,tracingAivazovskii'sascent fromhis rootsin Theodosia to his position as a painter of international renown who himself hosted receptions for the familyof the tsar. Today, paintings by Aivazovskiiare subject to highly competitive bidding in WVestern auction houses, and Seas,CitiesandDreamsis clearly written with collectors' and dealers' interests in mind. It is a beautifullyproduced book, with over two hundred colour plates, many of them taking up a whole page. The text in comparison is relatively short and is divided into two parts, the firstof which focuses on Aivazovskii'slife, while the second consists of brief paragraphs under titles such as 'Shipwreck' and 'Blue Pictures' which introduceorganizationalcategoriesfor the plateswhich follow. The biographical section includes no detailed readings of the nature or impact of Aivazovskii'sart. Instead, possible influences on the artistand his method of working are discussedin two short chapters (five and seven pages respectively)on 'Originsof Aivazovsky'sArt'and 'Aivazovsky's Technique'. A short section on Aivazovskii'spatrons and the nature of his appeal is also set apartfromthe main body of the text, appearingin Appendix i. This structure gives the book a fragmented feel and involves a certain amount of repetitionl. Nor does it allow for detailed discussion of artistic concepts fundamental to an understanding of Aivazovskii's work, such as the picturesque and the sublime, or of the Orientalist debates surrounding Aivazovskii's rare paintings of genire REVIEWS 549 scenes in Constantinople, beautifullyreproduced on pages I84-85. There is, however, a brief but interesting section in Appendix i on 'Fakes' -a notorious problem surrounding Aivazovskii's work- which will engage collectorsand connoisseurs. The book's main strength is its inclusion of excerpts from the memoirs of Aivazovskii'sgrandson,'Fromthe FarDistant Past'.This primarysource,now in the hands of Aivazovskii'sgreat-great-grandsonin London, has never been published and is quoted from at length. It is particularly informative on Aivazovskii's final years in Theodosia, where his philanthropy and civic involvement played a major part in the development of the town. Such was his influence that, 'He was much feared in the town and when his coach with its pair of greysappeared in the street,a murmurwent around "Aivazovskyis coming", and everybodypulled themselvestogether' (p. 74). The manuscript came to London afterthe Revolution and has been inaccessibleto Soviet and Russian scholars, so its introduction here offers a vital new first-hand perspectiveon Aivazovskii'scareer. Sadly there is little mention of other key sources the extensive commentaries on Aivazovskiiin nineteenth-centuryperiodicals, for example, or the documents pertainingto his time at the ImperialAcademy of Arts.His remarkablecollaboration with the great Russian Realist Il'ia Repin on the painting Pushkin BidsFarewell totheBlackSeapasseswithout comment. There is also a notable absence of paintings from provincial Russian galleries, despite the inclusion in an appendix of Nikolai Barsamov's list of paintings by Aivazovskii in Soviet museums, first published in I962. While Barsamov's list includes 437 dated paintingsalone in dozens of Soviet museumsand galleries, the...

Why Philosophy of Art Cannot Handle Kissing, Touching, and Crying

I being the date, in 2001, that a terrorist attack destroyed the Twin Towers in New York City. From Friday, March 15 through Sunday, March The review was headed A Somber Memorial 17, 2002, the Vienna Philharmonic performed from the Vienna Philharmonic. The reviewer, four concerts in New York City, three in another of the Times regulars, James R. Oestreich, Carnegie Hall, and one, on Sunday evening, in wrote, St. Patrick's Cathedral. Two of the three Carnegie Hall concerts were enthusiastically reviewed Hal cocet wer enhsasial reiee The memorial program anchored a basic sense of inside the Arts section of the New York Times of Tuesday, March 19, by one of the Times regumourning in the Christian season of the Passion, lars, Allan Kozinn. The heading for the review centering on Haydn's unrelentingly somber Seven was Fresh Power in Familiar Works. In his Last Words of Christ on the Cross. The evening review, Kozinn writes that Bernard Haitink, the opened with the solemn Adagio from Bruckner's conductor of the Carnegie Hall concerts, Seventh Symphony. ended with Mozart's Ave Verum Corpus, a simple consolatory choral work, imposed order and an almost narrative sense of performed without applause and with everyone in the drama on [Anton Bruckner's Symphony No. 8] withaudience holding a lighted candle. out taming it or smoothing its raw emotional edges. The Vienna players were in their element: the brass One concertgoer was quoted as saying afterand winds produced the textured chords that are cenward, After all the angst and the anger and the tral to this orchestra's trademark sound, but it was hassles of the last few months, the Mozart was the dusky, dynamically fluid string playing that gave like a benediction. seems O.K. to let go a the performance its soul .... The Schubert Ninth, little, to let the dead rest in peace. Another on the Saturday program, was appealing in a similarly attendee was quoted as saying, about the whole visceral way. Its familiar themes were writ large and evening, It is a warm, wonderful gesture [on the driven hard, yet there was also sufficient transparpart of the Vienna Philharmonic]. is very ency in the orchestra's sound that details of the generous and very healing. music's inner lines sometimes shone through and In remarks delivered during the concert, altered the perspective. Clemens Hellsberg, the orchestra's president, elaborated on the idea of art as a gift of The review of the concert in St. Patrick's God, holding out 'a sense of eternity and with it an Cathedral took up three columns on the front idea of the fulfillment of our desire for peace page of the Arts section, and then continued and harmony.' Mr. Hellsberg cited the Mozart inside with three columns at the top of page 5, in particular, 'without a doubt, a gift of God.' side by side with the two columns of the other I think we can safely infer that Mr. Hellsberg review. The concert was described as a free made no such comments at the Carnegie Hall program to honor the victims of Sept. 1 1-this concerts.

The Hidden Programme of Mahler's Seventh Symphony

The overall meaning of the Seventh Symphony of Gustav Mahler has consistently puzzled analysts and musicologists. While some parts have been understood and praised and others heavily criticised, much continues to hide its significance, a fact that hinders any real grasp of the whole work. The aim of the paper is to employ different critical and analytical methods and philosophies (structural analysis, investigation of imagery, narrative in music, hermeneutics, and documentary and literary evidence) to decode layers of meaning and to make a closely argued case for a convincing, integrated interpretation of the work as a whole. One can discern examples of modified classical formal models. Images of birds and military activity indicate extra-musical thinking in these modifications and the dramatic change in character from the first movement to the last suggests a narrative dimension. By examining the development of the implied narrative of the two previous symphonies, Mahler's thought is clarified. Taking into account a concert programme proposed by the composer, in which he included this symphony and three works by Wagner, one can map these latter works on to three movements of the symphony to reveal aspects of the composer's thinking. The literary connection here suggests a Faustian interpretation, which becomes more and more plausible as all the previously mentioned threads are drawn together.

Analytical Strategies and Musical Interpretation: Essays on Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Music

This book is devoted to music analysis as an interpretive activity. Interpretation is often considered only in theory, or as a philosophical problem, but this book attempts to demonstrate and reflect on the interpretive results of analysis. Two associated types of practice are emphasised: ‘translation’, the transformation of one type of experience or art object into the musical work, the artistic attempt to persuade us that the new product is as valid as its original, or more so than its origin; and ‘rhetoric’, the attempt to persuade us, through structure, to accept the signifying power of the work. The unifying theme of the essays is the interpretive transformation of concepts, ideas and forms that constitutes the heart of the compositional process of nineteenth- and twentieth-century music. The repertoire discussed ranges from Schumann through Wagner, Mahler, Zemlinsky, Debussy, Schoenberg, Berg, Webern and Stravinsky to Carter and Birtwistle. • Reflects the current state of analytical thinking • Considers music analysis as a mode of interpretation • Contributions by distinguished British and American scholars Contents 1. Introduction: different trains Craig Ayrey; Part I. Translations; 2. Stravinsky's symphonies: accident or design? Stephen Walsh; 3. Transcription and recomposition: the strange case of Zemlinsky's Maeterlinck songs Derrick Puffett; 4. Symphony or symphonic scenes: issues of structure and context in Schumann's 'Rhenish' Symphony Michael Musgrave; 5. The poetry of Debussy's En blanc et noir Jonathan Dunsby; 6. Poem as non-verbal text: Elliott Carter's Concerto for Orchestra and Saint-John Perse's Winds Jonathan W. Bernard; Part II. Rhetorics; 7. Birtwistle's secret theatres Jonathan Cross; 8. The narrative impulse in the second Nachtmusik from Mahler's Seventh Symphony Kopi Agawu; 9. 'Von heute auf morgen': Schoenberg and the New Criticism Alan Street; 10. Misleading voices: contrasts and continuities in Stravinsky studies Anthony Pople; 11. Immortal voices, mortal forms Carolyn Abbate; 12. So who are you? Webern's Op. 3, No. 1 David Griffiths.

Facsimile Edition of the Seventh Symphony

In the last few years Gustav Mahler's Seventh Symphony has been accorded much attention, such that it seems to have shed its previous status as the Cinderella of his symphonies, as Deryck Cooke once called it. The subject of two international symposia (Paris, 1989 and Amsterdam, 1993), a collection of essays, and a spate of recent performances and recordings, the Seventh is hardly the unfamiliar work it once was. The publication of this facsimile is further evidence of the interest and esteem granted such a difficult, enigmatic, and powerful work. This facsimile presents the Seventh Symphony exquisitely. In all respects it becomes, in this publication, larger than life. The blue cloth case functions as a kind of reliquary to house two oversize, paperbound volumes: the facsimile and commentary, the scripture and exegesis, of this publication. It is an impressive effort, which was published in conjunction with the 1995 Mahler Festival in Amsterdam. The 1995 Festival, in turn, commemorated the first Mahler Festival, which occurred in 1920. At that time Alma Mahler presented the conductor Willem Mengelberg, then director of the Concertgebouw Orchestra, with the autograph of the Seventh Symphony that is the subject of this facsimile. Mengelberg left the manuscript to the Concertgebouw, which has now made it available for wider study in this publication. As a memento of the 1995 Mahler Festival, the Seventh Symphony facsimile is an extravagant, perhaps Mahlerian gesture. It is not without some limitations, however, when it comes to the usefulness of the facsimile and the content of the commentary volume. In terms of presentation itself, the fair copy occurs on oversize paper with wide margins framing almost every page. The page size seems to be gauged on the dimensions of oversize page 195 (the third page of folio 3 in the fourth movement), which contains a pasteover. As a full-color facsimile, the edition preserves the various colors of ink and pencil that Mahler used in creating the manuscript. Yet the use of a heavy stock, glossy paper distinguishes the Seventh Symphony facsimile from the immediacy of the 1924 Zsolnay facsimile of the Tenth Symphony sketches or the exemplary 1986 facsimile of the Second Symphony fair copy published by the Kaplan Foundation. Those latter two publications reproduce better the condition and quality of the original as well as the colors. The Seventh facsimile is, at best, a color photograph of the work without duplicating the condition of the original. Unlike the stock that Mahler used, the use of glossy paper for the facsimile prevents the clear reproduction of erasures, which occur throughout the manuscript (see, e.g., p. 22: the last page of folio 5 in the first movement). The nuances of sepia, black, and gray also blur with little distinction (see p. 35: the second page of folio 9 in the first movement). Unfortunately the pages under the pasteover are placed at the end of the facsimile, not where they occur in the manuscript, and appear reduced in size. (Regarding the pasted over leaf, see p. 78: the second page of folio 10 in the second movement.) In the context of a facsimile published with much evident care, such details detract from it. Notwithstanding these concerns, the manuscript itself is not without interest. The fair copy is clearly a document of a stage of composition, since it contains the full score as Mahler took the Symphony into its first performances. It is a refinement over the draft score, in which Mahler usually worked out the orchestration. The fair copy, on the other hand, reflects the composer's efforts at bringing the music to performance. It bears an affinity to the published score, but still remains evidence of work in progress. While the substance of the music comes close to the content of the published score, Mahler used the fair copy to work out the use and placement of tempo and expression markings, as well as articulations, dynamics, and other indications. …

THE GESTATION OF BRUCKNER'S EIGHTH SYMPHONY

Anton Bruckner's Symphony n? 8 is the last he finished: starting it in 1884, releasing a first version in 1887, and making just one elaborate revision, in 1890. He was in his sixties, in the flush of the widespread, lasting success brought, above all, by the famous Adagio elegy in the Seventh Symphony, an elegy Bruckner had composed (or at least put into final form) on first hearing of his avatar Wagner's death in 1883. When he began the still more ambitious Eighth a year later, Bruckner still lay under the great spell of Wagner's evolutionary formal aesthetics (and, as ever, of Beethoven's). I do not aim today to explore the dynamic shaping of Bruckner's formal process, as I have done with other symphonies of his?except as

Romantic Irony in the Works of Robert Schumann

Journal Article Romantic Irony in the Works of Robert Schumann Get access HEIINZ J. DILL HEIINZ J. DILL Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar The Musical Quarterly, Volume 73, Issue 2, 1989, Pages 172–195, https://doi.org/10.1093/mq/73.2.172 Published: 01 February 1989

Kurth's "Bruckner" and the Adagio of the Seventh Symphony

The large-scale Germanic orchestral repertory of the latter half of the nineteenth century maintains an enduring popularity in our concert programs and record catalogues; but for something so dear and familiar to us, our present-day critical response to it is sadly inarticulate, especially so in the discussion of its musical forms. First, although it has been relatively easy for us to talk about form as architecture, as a standardized set of prescriptions for sectional outlines and tonal plans, it has not been nearly so easy to talk about form as forming or becoming (as Wagner, following Friedrich Schlegel, put it)'-that is, form considered as a continuous process of transformation of initial motives throughout a work. This continuous process of transformation is not universal in music, but stands as probably the most important common trait of the symphonic music of the time. Indeed, I would argue (following the sense of some broadly historical arguments of

Kurth's "Bruckner" and the Adagio of the Seventh Symphony

Kurth's "Bruckner" and the Adagio of the Seventh Symphony

Beethoven's Ninth Symphony: A Search for Order

We may begin, as Beethoven did, with hovering open fifths, pianissimo, a missing third, a sense of expectancy, soon to be fulfilled by a quickening into life and the forceful emergence of a theme and a definite tonality. The opening of the Ninth Symphony functions, like similar rhetorical gestures in the Seventh Symphony, the Hammerklavier Sonata, and several of the late quartets, to raise a curtain so that the action may begin, or so that we may witness the unveiling of a distant universe. More than a gesture is involved. There is a sense in which this passage foreshadows in nuce the whole of the future action, inasmuch as it represents an initial ambiguity leading to clarification.' At this stage, however, though we know that we have begun, we cannot imagine where Beethoven intends to take us: we do not know what to expect, we do not know how, or even if, the cluster of harmonic, thematic, and rhythmic riddles offered in these measures will be solved. We do not know why this oversized orchestra and massed choruses and soloists are assembled before us. We may even discover that each step toward clarification opens upon a new ambiguity, in a constant interchange of questions and answers. Thus, although we have come to know that the Ninth Symphony is implicit in its opening measures, we cannot predict the Ninth Symphony from them. As the work unfolds, we soon 19th-Century Music X/1 (Summer 1986). ? by the Regents of the University of California.

The Structural Premises of Mahler's Introductions: Prolegomena to an Analysis of the First Movement of the Seventh Symphony

The Structural Premises of Mahler's Introductions: Prolegomena to an Analysis of the First Movement of the Seventh Symphony

Rhythmic Organization in Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. A Study of Cancelled Measures in the Autograph

Rhythmic Organization in Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. A Study of Cancelled Measures in the Autograph

Shostakovich: Some Later Works

By modern standards, Shostakovich is an unusually prolific composer. Still in his early fifties, he has behind him over a hundred published works, many of them large-scale. He composes quickly, even impulsively—he says so himself—and his creative enthusiasm can sometimes outstrip his critical awareness. His Seventh Symphony, the Leningrad (1941), is doubtless an extreme example of this hit-or-miss ‘immediacy’, but the creative approach which it represents is characteristic and permeates his music. At his best, Shostakovich has one of the finest imaginations at work to-day. His gifts are very impressive; his potential remains immense. Those who contended some years ago that he was a spent force, ruined by politics, have had to think again: the Tenth and Eleventh Symphonies and the Violin Concerto, to mention only the more obvious works, have necessitated many an ‘agonizing reappraisal’.

Prokofieff's Seventh Symphony

Prokofieff's seventh and last symphony presents a fluent, melodious aspect of the composer's many sided work: music that unfolds itself simply and naturally, individual certainly in its turn of phrase, but not provocative or challenging in the daring manner of Prokofieff's earlier works. The symphony thus represents a phase of Prokofieff's work, his last phase, and the curious fact here is that the many aesthetic and technical problems which this original composer raised in the Scythian Suite, The Gambler and the second symphony should have been resolved in music of such bland simplicity. If indeed one can refer to this work as a resolution of these problems at all. For the deliberately naiïve character of this last major work of Prokofieff, appealing as it is in its uncomplicated way, does not reflect that final triumph of serenity which one might have expected such a composer to have reached: it does not correspond to the other-worldly idealism of the late works of other composers of an adventurous turn of mind, such as Fauré and Vaughan Williams. Its conventionality, shot through with a sprightliness that is generally disciplined into polite musical behaviour but which nevertheless does occasionally assume the form of one of Prokofieff's ironic grimaces—this conventionality can only be interpreted as a surrender to the social demands which we know are from time to time re-imposed on Soviet composers.

CELTIC ELEMENTS IN BEETHOVEN'S SEVENTH SYMPHONY

Journal Article CELTIC ELEMENTS IN BEETHOVEN'S SEVENTH SYMPHONY Get access JAMES TRAVIS JAMES TRAVIS Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar The Musical Quarterly, Volume XXI, Issue 3, July 1935, Pages 255–265, https://doi.org/10.1093/mq/XXI.3.255 Published: 01 July 1935

The Wrong bar in Beethoven's Seventh Symphony

The Wrong bar in Beethoven's Seventh Symphony