MOSL’s spring concert is all about storytelling—from Ravel’s depiction of classic fairy tales to Hindemith’s reworking of musical stories of his 19th century German predecessor Carl Maria von Weber. Sandwiched between the two is a true-life 1947 St. Louis cat story, rediscovered and retold by Kate and Sarah Klise, now reimagined—for the first time—by composer Stefan Freund.
Ravel’s work was inspired by timeless tales as recorded by Charles Perrault and Madame d'Aulnoy, and began its journey as a suite of “easy” pieces for four-hand piano. Ravel later decided to expand the suite and orchestrate it into a full-length ballet score.
The opening Pavane of Sleeping Beauty sets an inward, dreamy tone for the suite. Solo flutes and other winds outline a spare, somber theme, with plucked notes in the lower strings. The first violins, normally leaders of the orchestra, are tacet until the last four bars. Ravel commented on his economy of means, saying, “The idea of evoking in these pieces the poetry of childhood naturally led me to simplify my style and refine my means of expression.”
Tom Thumb describes the tale of a wandering boy who leaves breadcrumbs to mark his route home. But birds—sonically recreated in violins and woodwinds—eat the breadcrumbs. The movement ends uncertainly with the listener wondering if Tom ever makes it home.
Empress of the Pagodas depicts a shipwrecked “ugly” empress girl and her pet snake marooned on an island populated with clay figurines or pagodas. The Chinese pentatonic scale (think black keys on a piano) is featured throughout, as it is later in this program in the Hindemith’s Turandot movement. Gong strokes complete the Asian mood.
In Conversations of Beauty and the Beast, a graceful waltz depicts Beauty. The Beast, portrayed by the contrabassoon, interrupts the waltz with a slithering passage. Beauty reappears anxiously. Eventually the themes overlap, suggesting a dance between the two. A cymbal stroke and mysterious glissando transform the Beast into a handsome prince. The movement ends happily.
Finally, the Fairy Garden returns full circle to the opening tale of Sleeping Beauty. Recently called “The Most Magical Moving Four Minutes in Music” by the New York Times, Ravel outshines even his usual high standards with sumptuous nostalgic harmonies and a majestic progression towards a noisy, jubilant close. Perhaps Sleeping Beauty gets married, or perhaps the rest of us are transported to the lost, unalloyed joys of childhood.
How Mr. Silver Stole the Show, today’s world premiere performance, is based on a true St. Louis story. As author Kate Klise describes it:
This story is based on an actual stray cat who, on a rainy November morning in 1947, wandered into the Hamilton Hotel, two days before the Greater St. Louis Cat Club Show.
The cat won first prize in two categories: Best Color for Kittens and Best in the Non-Champion Class. He was adopted by Miss Marcella Duffy, the hostess at the hotel, who named her new friend Mr. Silver. Their story appeared on the front page of the November 17, 1947 edition of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and almost one hundred other newspapers.
I took a few liberties with the story. I don’t know if the chef had a daughter named Louise. I don’t know if the sound of jangling silverware gave Miss Duffy the idea to name the cat Mr. Silver. I don’t even know what happened after Miss Duffy adopted him. I do know that in 1947, St. Louis was like most cities in the United States: segregated. A child who looked like Louise would not have been allowed in the hotel dining room. Not until the 1950s and ’60s were laws finally passed that barred racial discrimination in hotels, restaurants, and schools.
It is the job of adults to make and change laws, but I think it’s young people who change the culture. Children, like my fictional Louise and the real children sitting in the audience today, are often able to see the world not as it is but as it should be. Furry friends help. The year after the contest that inspired this story, Mr. Silver entered again and won six awards, including two first prizes. Hope sometimes comes on little cat feet.
Plans for a narrated musical version of Mr. Silver go back to the book’s publication in 2023. Composer Stefan Freund describes his involvement with the project:
How Mr. Silver Stole the Show was written for Roger Kaza and the Metropolitan Orchestra of St. Louis. When author Kate Klise asked me to write music for the book, I was immediately attracted to the strong personalities of the characters: virtuous Miss Marcella Duffy, kind Louise, and the jovial cook in addition to the lovable title character. Kate and illustrator M. Sarah Klise, Kate’s sister, gave me recommendations for how the piece could unfold which helped me to develop the motives and form of the piece. Themes include a recurring blues riff that represents the hotel and its staff, a noble horn call for Miss Duffy, and a gentle melody for Louise as well as the scurrying and meowing of Mr. Silver and the other cats. Throughout the piece the chaos of the cat show and its quirky participants is contrasted by the warmth and serenity of the kitchen and its staff.
Hotel hostess Marcella Duffy holds Mr. Silver (Photo used with permission, St. Louis Post-Dispatch/Polaris)
Paul Hindemith’s Symphonic Metamorphosis of Themes by Carl Maria von Weber has, like the Ravel work, a ballet connection. Hindemith had been banned by the Nazis and settled in Connecticut to teach at Yale. The Russian choreographer Massine asked him about arranging some piano works of the early 19th century composer Carl Maria von Weber. But Hindemith quickly grew disillusioned with the project. Massine apparently wanted mere arrangements of the pieces, but Hindemith had something quite a bit more imaginative in mind, a “metamorphosis” of Weber’s piano works. Each piece retains the basic outline of Weber’s melodies but is transformed into the musical language of the 20th century.
The opening Allegro takes on a “gypsy”-style tune, (alla zingara), with wild, trilling accompaniment. Vienna in the early 19th century was the melting pot of Central Europe, and exotic flavors from the East were in vogue. The scherzo travels even further East, to China, and references Carlo Gozzi’s Turandot, the same source Puccini would use a century later in his famous opera.
A gentle Andantino follows, featuring acrobatic passagework in the solo flute. The Metamorphosis concludes with a rousing march, perhaps mocking the Nazi regime Hindemith had fled.
These three works, two from the 20th century and one finished just a month ago, remind us that, in uncertain times, it’s stories that bring us closer and help us find our way home.
Roger Kaza