Fall is here – and to celebrate, here is the iconic fall composition, “Autumn” from Vivaldi‘s “Four Seasons“.

Vivaldi wrote 500 concertos, though musicians will say that he actually wrote the same concerto 500 times. Most of these concertos are given really interesting titles – for example, “Violin Concerto in D” or “Violin Concerto in E” or maybe even “Violin Concerto in F.” In a sea of compositions with very similar names, four of his concertos stand out above the rest (not surprisingly) because they bear a title that suggests something extra-musical. The Four Seasons (having nothing to do with Franki Valli) are four Baroque concertos that musically capture the spirit of the respective times of year – Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. This sort of use of extra-musical influences is known as Program Music, and is commonplace nowadays. If a composer today wrote a piece called “A Cold Winter’s Day” or “The Ice Storm”, we wouldn’t think twice about it; in fact, we would probably begin making assumptions as to how the piece would sound, built on the musical ideas handed down through generations of wintery composers. But in 1720, for Vivaldi to write a Concerto that captures the spirit of the harvest AND to title it “Fall” was out of the ordinary.

Actually, there is more to say. Julia Fischer is awesome!

Today’s episode is brought to you by the International Talk Like a Pirate Day advocacy board.

Arrrg! Avast, ye landlubbers, and harken to me tale. The seas be wild, they be, and only the sturdiest sea-legs be worthy of a ship as fine as the Flying Dutchman. What be the Flying Dutchman, ye ask? Shiver me timbers, I ne’er known a landlubber such as ye, what never heard of the Dutchman. ‘Tis a ghost ship, doomed to sail the seven seas, and her ghost captain is bound to this fate forever, unless – ah, ye guessed it – a fair wench did declare love for him. You see, us pirates be romantic folk – we love the battle between life and death, damnation and salvation, and the redemption that only true love can give ye. Wot? Ye don’t believe me, do ye? Well, a pox on you and your damned landlubbering gollymangers, and may ye be caught in the storm like the one that inspired old Dicky Wagner to compose this overture, and may it bring ye to Davy Jone’s locker, or worse yet, bring ye aboard the accursed Flying Dutchman herself.

If it tickle ye barnacles, I must mention that this recording be the finest I’ve heard – the inner parts do not get obscured in a sea of messy writing. Ye can hear every note clearly. May your sailing skies be as clear and clean as these.

As an organist, and a masochist, I love the music of Max Reger – he penned one of my favorite organ works. His music is often so complex and busy that it was said that, instead of writing black notes on white paper, he would start with black paper and just while out the parts without notes.

In the realm of composers, though, he’s probably on the C-list, so many people haven’t heard of him unless you’ve encountered his music – and if you have, you either love it or hate it. Consequentially, there are some truly scathing famous criticisms of Reger’s music (all taken here from Nicolas Slonimsky‘s Lexicon of Musical Invective):

“This Reger is a sarcastic, churlish fellow, bitter and pedantic and rude. He is a sort of musical Cyclops, a strong, ugly creature bulging with knotty and unshapely muscles, an ogre of composition. In listening to these works … one is perforce reminded of the photograph of Reger … that shows something that is like a swollen, myopic beetle with thick lips and sullen expression, crouching on an organ-bench. There is something repulsive as well as pedantic in this art. His works … are like mathematical problems and solutions, sheer brain-spun and unlyrical.” – Paul Rosenfeld, Musical Portraits

“Reger’s [String] Quartet … looks like music, it sounds like music, it might even taste like music; yet it remains, stubbornly, not music. … Reger might be epitomized as a composer whose name is the same either forward or backward, and whose music, curiously, often displays the same characteristic.” – Irving Kolodin, New York Sun

“[Reger’s ‘100th Psalm’] is enough to split the roof of the theater with the skull of the audience.” – Pall Mall Gazette

Reger, however, had the last laugh, with this popular quote which he sent to one of his critics:

“I am sitting in the smallest room of my house. I have your review before me. In a moment it will be behind me!”