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OMAGGIO
is a musical tribute to the memory of the Italian-Jewish
chemist and writer Primo Levi: his lucid, objective
account of his experiences in Auschwitz, in addition to
their value as testimony and to the fact that Levi was
able to maintain his own humanity in the face of
unimaginable horrors, shows true heroism in the avoidance
of self-pity and emotionalism. Having set about to write
a serious work that would be of some importance, I sought
a figure of genuine nobility to whom I might meaningfully
dedicate the music, and I found that in Primo Levi.
My musical homage is written for five instruments, flute
(piccolo), clarinet, violin, viola, and cello. The first
of the four movements is intensely expressive; the second
is a nightmarish march (in the tradition of Berlioz'
March to the Scaffold); the third is a set of variations
on a chord progression, while the energetic finale is
meant to express the determination to go forward in the
face of adversity.
The earliest work on this CD, which is also the first
piece of mine to appear on a record, is the short piano
piece ALLEGRO GIOCOSO. It was written
for a collection of piano music edited by Josef
Prostakoff. The title indicates the character of the
piece, which is cheerful and has a certain youthful
exuberance.
I am always searching for words to set to music, and when
I read the poems of Steve Stepanchev I knew I had found
what I wanted. For one thing, anyone who could find
something of esthetic value in Flushing, NY, must be a
true poet. For another, the poems are lean enough to
allow room, a good deal of room, for music. I also found
the frequent use of imagery drawn from the world of
stimulating, suggesting re-translation back into the
language of music itself. I wrote SPRING IN THE
HARBOR with Catherine Rowe's voice in mind, and
voice in mind, and she gave the first performance at the
Composers Theatre in New York City, April 25, 1970. The
piece is dedicated to her and to the poet.
The six songs that comprise Spring In The Harbor are
contrasted in mood and general character, but also in
scoring and in the use of the piano. The keyboard
instrument is not only played in the customary way but
its strings are plucked, strummed, and struck with
xylophone mallets. In the fifth song, the piano case is
locked, and the pianist strikes the case and body of the
piano to produce an array of percussive sounds.
In the mid sixties, the new medium of electronic music
drew my attention, and I studied it with Vladimir
Ussachevsky. I soon decided that my own involvement with
this exciting new kind of music would have to combine the
electronic element with acoustic instruments if it was
going to work for me. One of the works that emerged from
this period was DIALOGUES for Flute and
Tape. My aim was to combine the two kinds of sound into a
coherent whole. If at times the listener cannot be sure
of whether he is hearing the flute or the electronic
sounds, I am satisfied that I have achieved my goal. The
music was composed with the brilliant flute playing of
Gerardo Levy in mind's ear. Dialogues is
in four sections and a coda. In each section, the
conversation between the flute and the tape is a bit
different in character. The electronic portion was
realized at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music
Center.
In Spain during the middle ages, Christians, Moslems, and
Jews lived together in a rather harmonious way. This
tranquil period was a golden age for Hebrew literature,
and among its outstanding poets was Moses and Ibn Ezra.
The poems I have chosen for my EIGHT CHORAL SONGS
are among the poet's shorter works, with a single
exception. I had thought to make an entire set of secular
songs, but the power of one of Ibn Ezra's religious texts
impressed me deeply, and I used lines from that work in
the seventh song cycle.
Literal translations of Ibn Ezra's medieval Hebrew seem
stilted to me. The following English version, therefore,
is offered not so much as a translation, but as a
paraphrase. I hope that it conveys the sense of the
fullness of life and the feeling of wonder at the beauty
of the world that is at the heart of the poetry of Moses
Ibn Ezra.
The term ricercar (English spelling) illustrates the
truth of Nietzsche's remark that only that which has no
history can be defined. The ricercar has a long history,
and no one definition does it justice. I was attracted to
a particular 17th-century version in which several
different sections, all using imitation, were based on a
single musical idea. That is the framework for A
NEW RICERCAR.
Unlike the older manifestations of the form, I chose to
write a long theme upon which to build the entire
composition. At the beginning of the piece, the violas
state this melody, whose many motives will provide
material for continuation and development. As in the
earlier models, the first section begins with imitation,
but after that the technique recurs only sporadically.
Each section flows into the next with hardly a pause,
building to a climax towards the center of the piece. By
that point the linear texture has given way to an
entirely chordal one. The latter part of the piece winds
down to a quiet ending in which the elements of the theme
return in reverse order, separated by fragments of
earlier sections.
It might be thought that this music grew out of my
teaching experiences, but in truth it owes more to my
prowling around the Queens College music library.
—Leo Kraft
Born in Brooklyn in 1922, LEO KRAFT has
had an active career as a composer, educator and author.
While the bulk of his work is in the field of chamber
music, he has also written orchestra, piano, vocal, band
and electronic music. His compositions have been
performed and recorded in the USA and abroad. He has
served actively with the College Music Society, the
Society for Music theory and Meet the Composer. Mr. Kraft
is past President of the American Music Center. Professor
Emeritus of the Aaron Copland School of Music at Queens
College CUNY, he was also Distinguished Composer in
Residence at New York University. Mr. Kraft's music is
published by Seesaw Music Inc.
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