I’ve put up a seasonal silent film with my accompaniment: Le Rêve de Noël, a short 1900 film from Georges Méliès. Just a bit of holiday fun with assorted Christmas scenes. The viewing speed is slowed down a bit from the Internet Archive version which I downloaded; even so, it’s barely over five minutes with start and end titles.
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My latest album, Beacons in the Darkness, is now available on Bandcamp. It’s a living-room album, and I make no great claims for my vocal abilities, so payment is optional. It’s the songs themselves which I think have some interest. The title track, a secular solstice song, is one of my best songs, and it’s on the album in both English and German. 
You can find my other albums, likewise on a payment-optional basis, at garymcgath.bandcamp.com.
Gertie the Dinosaur, released by Winsor McCay in 1914, featured the first animated character with a personality. Presented here with my accompaniment.
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September 29 is Silent Movie Day, and I’m participating with a short Méliès movie, The Haunted Castle or Le Manoir du Diable, for which I’ve provided improvised accompaniment.
And don’t forget my livestreaming of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari on October 9 at 8 PM. I’ll also accompany it for a live audience at the Plaistow Library on October 11. Hopefully many of you will be able to make it for one or the other.
Spohr and Faust. You knew I couldn’t resist writing about that combination, didn’t you? The delay was in finding an adequate recording. Years ago, I got a CD set where the opera was so heavily cut it was incomprehensible. Since then, I’ve gotten a CPO recording of the 1852 version by the Bielefeld Opera. It’s complete or nearly so, but the download from Presto Music doesn’t include a booklet. I need a libretto to follow along, and there’s a libretto for reading or downloading here. It’s got a lot of typos, as if it was made from an uncorrected scan, but it will do. The Capriccio recording has brutal cuts, and I can’t recommend it.
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Louis Spohr’s third symphony, Opus 78, dates from 1828, the year after Beethoven’s death, and there are several indications he was thinking of Beethoven when he wrote it, starting with the key of C minor. It’s on a large scale for the early 19th century. In most recordings it runs half an hour. The instrumentation includes a brass section of four horns, two trumpets, and three trombones.
The slow introduction sets an initially tragic tone but quickly opens up into an expression of hope. The main body continues the conflict of emotions. The first theme expresses a struggle, while the second, made from the same material, is dance-like. The development is brief but surprising; it’s based not on the first and second themes, but on the introduction. This approach recalls the opening mood without breaking the tempo. The coda goes into C minor, creating a moment of doubt, but returns to the major for the final measures.
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Musical annotation is a language in its own right. Its words come from Italian, but the syntax is very different, and the meaning of the words often is too. I’m sure linguists have studied it in detail. I’m neither a linguist nor a professional musician, but I have a strong interest in both areas, so let me offer a few thoughts on the subject.
Since the nineteenth century, musical directions have come in other languages, usually the composer’s native language. I think Schumann was the first major composer to do it. For this piece, I’m just talking about annotations based on Italian.
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Apple and Spotify, groveling before China’s government, have reportedly taken down the song “Glory to Hong Kong” worldwide. I don’t know what to make of this, as I can still find the song on both platforms. It may be just the original DGX version that’s been taken down, which seems pointless from a censorship standpoint. Maybe it takes longer to go after the cover performances.
Whatever is happening, it’s something people can push back against. I’d like to see a hundred thousand recordings uploaded to the Web, so the censors will find themselves playing a futile game of Whack-a-Mole. For my part, I’ve written and recorded a piano arrangement of “Glory to Hong Kong” to SoundCloud. As far as I know, they haven’t banned the song, at least in the USA. In China, even instrumental performances can get the performer arrested.
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Most of Spohr’s best works date from before 1840, but he hadn’t completely written himself out after that. The Septet in A minor, composed in 1853, is worth having in a collection of his music. It’s still clearly his work, but it has a different feeling from his earlier Quintet, Octet, and Nonet. It’s denser in its instrumentation and more contemplative. I’d say there’s a hint of Brahms in it, except that in 1853 Brahms was little-known, and almost all of his compositions were ahead of him. All the instruments — flute, clarinet, bassoon, horn, violin, cello, and piano — are equal partners in this work. Spohr clearly expected he’d have good musicians to perform this piece; the piano part is as hard as some concertos, but with fewer opportunities for bows.
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My silent film for October 2024 will be The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. As usual, I’ll provide live, (mostly) improvised accompaniment. I’ll livestream it on YouTube on Wednesday, October 9, at 8 PM. On Saturday 11, I’ll accompany it again at the Plaistow, NH Library at 1 PM.
When I accompany a silent film, I improvise the music based on a general plan that includes some motifs devised in advance. For this movie, I’ll include a bit of Beethoven for certain scenes, just because it works so well.
This movie is almost as famous for its sets as for its characters and story. Everything is askew; there’s hardly a right angle to be seen in the buildings. The scenery adds to the sense of a nightmare experience. The story concerns a carnival showman whose main exhibit is a sleepwalker who never wakes. Cesare, the sleepwalker, obeys Caligari’s orders, even when it means committing murder. But there is an even greater surprise in store.
I really enjoy adding music to silent films for a live audience, or at least a real-time streaming audience. Recently I got to see Ben Model, one of the most famous silent film accompanists in the USA, accompany The Mark of Zorro on a pipe organ. It was worth the two-hour drive to Vermont.