Composer Arnold Schoenberg was personally affected by Nazi policies of Kulturkampf and antisemitism. He was obliged to resign his position at the Prussian Academy of Arts shortly after Hitler's rise to power in 1933, and his music, branded "degenerate" and "Bolshevist," was banned throughout the Third Reich. That same year he left Germany forever; friends and family who stayed behind perished in killing centers. A prophet in the field of music, Schoenberg also turned a visionary eye toward the political scene. Of Europe's threatened Jewry he wrote in 1938: "Are they condemned to doom? Will they become extinct? Famished? Butchered? ...[T]he fate of the Austrian and Hungarian Jews was sealed years ago. And can a man with foresight deny that the Jews of Romania and Poland are in danger of a similar fate?" Schoenberg spent the war years in southern California, in reduced circumstances and ill-health, only rarely able to compose. On hearing a personal account of the Warsaw ghetto rebellion, however, he created A Survivor from Warsaw in a ten-day burst of inspiration, drawing the text almost directly from the survivor's words. The work received its premiere in 1947. A Survivor from Warsaw is in two short sections, played without pause. The first part, for speaker and chorus, consists of the survivor's account of his ordeal. The second part depicts a chorus of panic-stricken Jews en route to the gas chambers, where—to the survivor's amazement—they begin to intone the traditional confession of their faith, the Sh'ma Yisrael. Eyewitnesses affirm that such chanting did occur in Treblinka, Auschwitz, and other killing centers. Sh'ma Yisrael was by custom the final utterance of Jewish martyrs, sages, and others—a last profession of trust in divine will. In the face of an annihilation that promised to wipe out both the individual and the culture whose essence the prayer embodied, the act of reciting the ancient creed was more than a demonstration of faith or submission. As Schoenberg recognized, and as the music to A Survivor from Warsaw forcefully asserts, to pray Sh'ma Yisrael under such circumstances was also an act of defiance. Watch a stunning performance of Schoenberg's A Survivor from Warsaw by Hermann Prey and the Bamberger Symphoniker conducted by Horst Stein . . . one of this week's FEATURED NEW MUSIC VIDEOS.

About the Naxos Records recording Leroy Anderson - Orchestral Music, Volume One David Hurwitz (ClassicsToday) writes, "All in all, it's hard to deny this release the strongest possible recommendation. The music may be light, but the craftsmanship and standard of quality are second to none. It's a special mystery that Leroy Anderson was dissatisfied with the concerto, his only large-scale orchestral work, withholding its publication during his lifetime. We could use a "Gershwin alternative", and this piece is just the ticket. From the "Rachmaninov without the gloom" opening, to the Latin interludes in the Andante, to the finale's hoe-down reel of a main melody, this piece is a winner. Both Leonard Slatkin and pianist Jeffrey Biegel give the piece the royal treatment, playing with both passion and humor. You'll love it. And Biegel's rendition is the best on record. Check it all out . . . it's our current FEATURED RECORDING.

El signo de la muerte (The Sign of Death) is a curious film from 1939 made by prestigious Mexican collaborators: director Chano Urueta, comedian and actor Fortino Mario Alfonso Moreno Reyes, known professionally as Cantinflas (a pioneer of the cinema of Mexico), and composer Silvestre Revueltas. According to Carlos Monsivais, "The plot promises much more than it deliver: Cantinflas is a "peladito" [a certain class of urban 'bum' in Mexico in the 1920's] employed in a museum who, quite by accident, discovers the clue to a series of crimes caused by the madness of an Aztec grand priest attempting to restore human sacrifice and Moctezuma's empire." Have a look and listen (sorry, it's in Spanish without subtitles) . . . it's this week's PYTHEAS SIGHTING.

Much of Luciano Berio's music, the Sequenzas included, inhabits a world of inner drama which interacts with the outside world in a surreal fashion. It's the kind of drama which confronts and subverts within the mind, entering and rummaging around in the subconscious and then rearing up in front of you like a giant balloon clown when you least expect it. The relationships of perspective between the player and his/her instrument, and between the player and the audience, are in state of constant distortion and flux. This is summed up in a way by that single word 'why' in Sequenza V (1966) for trombone. The 'wha' of the mute being moved over the bell of the instrument is given an added declamatory significance after that moment, and a musical conversation or monologue - real or imagined, ensues/Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International. Watch a performance of Berio's Sequenza V (1966) for trombone played by Dave Day . . . this week's FROM THE PYTHEAS ARCHIVES.

Explore, Listen and Enjoy!
Vinny Fuerst
Pytheas Center for Contemporary Music