Several years ago there was what could be deemed breaking news in the classical world, news that probably sent shivers up many enthusiasts’ and music-history buffs’ spines. Good shivers, that is. It was the unearthing of 200-plus phonograph cylinder recordings in an old archive in Russia. With low volume and heavy amounts of surface noise, the cylinders hold a brief but invaluable glimpse into the early days of recording and how classical music was performed throughout the years. Some of these cylinders carry the earliest known recordings of works by Bach, Verdi and Schumann, to name just a few.

A selection of the recordings ranging from 1890 to 1923 will be released this month on the Marston label. An article I came across a couple weeks ago discusses the discovery of many of the recordings at auctions and in old archives, and how the plan for their creation and allusions to their lingering existence was discovered in the correspondence between a music-loving businessman, Julius H. Block, and Thomas Edison himself. It is a fascinating article. If you are a fan of juicy tidbits of musical history, give this article a read and perhaps pick up the recording—you just might hear a whistling Tchaikovsky in the background.

Read the original article here: Classical Ghosts, Audible Once Again

Depending on where you live it has probably happened to just about every one of us, I know for me it is almost a daily occurrence living in the city. Maybe you’ve had a quiet afternoon walk or a private conversation (in your home nonetheless!) interrupted by loud music blaring from inside a passing car, that unmistakable thump thump of a sub-woofer in a trunk, just rattling to get out.

In an article put out by the AP, Andrew Vactor was cited by police for playing his rap music too loud and was given the opportunity to reduce his $150 fine down to just $35 if he spent 20 hours listening to classical music. The article mentioned greats such as Bach, Chopin, and Beethoven as Vactor’s “hard time.” He lasted only 15 minutes before having to scoot off to practice for his University’s basketball team. Vactor claimed it wasn’t the music just the time conflict. Perhaps this unconventional punishment could have future success… barring any extra-curricular activities of course.

I remember a long discussion I had in college about the creation of the album cover for The Beatles’ 1967 release Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. It was a seemingly endless list of pop-culture inclusions and references to their evolving careers created by cardboard cut outs and props. At the time and even today it is a shining example of unique album-cover artistry. I began to think about album cover artwork in general and about what others think on its offering to the “music experience” as a whole. Does it lend to the excitement of opening up a new album by seeing the cover and hearing the music for the first time, or is it a distraction?

A couple images came to mind in the classical genre: the striking image of a woman in a yellow dress standing in an ornately hand drawn room on the cover Anne-Sophie Mutter’s Mozart: The Violin Sonatas, or the mural-esque angel of Piers Lane’s Scriabin: The Complete Etudes. Classical music has never been known for its unique and artistic album covers, yet genres such as rock ’n’ roll and hip-hop sometimes go over the top and find themselves facing censorship and taking artistic expression to the level of risqué. Do you think album artwork is or should be considered a part of the overall “music experience?” And why do you think its emphasis varies between genres?