1956

The ballet opened with a stately Polonaise danced by the corps de ballet in rich Polish costumes. In the Nocturne, Chopin himself was depicted, seated at his piano in a ruined monastery and menaced by the ghosts of dead monks as he attempted to compose. The Mazurka showed a Polish wedding celebration, at the height of which a young girl left her elderly husband-to-be to run off with her lover. The Waltz was a classical pas de deux in which the costume worn by the danseuse (Anna Pavlova) was copied from that originally worn by Taglioni in the famous 19th-century Romantic ballet La Sylphide. This pas de deux of a sylph and a poet was to be the nucleus around which Les Sylphides as we know it was to grow. The ballet concluded with a Tarantella danced by a gay Neapolitan throng.

Dissatisfied with the ballet, Fokine produced a second version of Chopiniana, danced by students of the Imperial Ballet School at a pupils’ performance on April 6th of the same’ year. The C sharp minor Waltz was retained in Glazunov’s orchestration, but otherwise. a new suite of Chopin pieces was assembled by the choreographer and this time orchestrated by Maurice Keller. The setting was now a moonlit glade and all the danseuses wore white muslin ballet dresses á la Taglioni, the single male dancer the traditional romantic costume of white tights and silk blouse under a short black velvet tunic. When Fokine joined Diaghilev the following year to help form a company with which to acquaint Western Europe with the glory of Russia’s ballet achievement, Chopiniana was taken into the repertoire and renamed Les Sylphides, on the suggestion of Alexandre Benois, who designed a new decor for the production first given at the Theatre du Chatelet, Paris, on June 2nd, 1909. Since then Les Sylphides has been produced by practically every ballet company of note.

The Prelude in A major, Op. 28, No. 7, heard first as a short overture, establishes the rapt, dream-like atmosphere that is later sustained throughout even the most animated sections of the choreography. The Nocturne in A flat major, Op. 32, No. 2, danced by the full company, is followed by the Waltz in G flat major, Op. 70, No. I, a rhythmically intricate solo for a premiere danseuse. Then, to the Mazurka in D major, Op. 33, No. 2, the danseuse Rolle emerges from the shadows to cross and circle the stage in bounding grands jetes. To the Mazurka in C major, Op. 67, No. 3, the premier danseur performs an elegant variation In which the basic steps of the Polish mazurka can be clearly’ discerned. An exquisitely restrained solo for a premiere danseuse is danced to the same A major Prelude that has already served as overture. The Waltz in C sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2, is the music for the pas de deux performed by the leading ballerina and male dancer; and finally the Grande Valse brilliante in E flat major, Op. 18, is danced by the entire company.

The difficulty of preserving the Intimate delicacy of Chopin’s music while at the same time making it theatrically effective has taxed the ingenuity of many arrangers since Les Sylphides was first given. Disliking Keller’s orchestration, Diaghilev commissioned a fresh version from four Russian composers—Stravinsky, Tcherepnin, Lladov and Glazunov. Other composers, who have orchestrated the music include Taneyev, Gretchaninov, Rieti, Gordon Jacob, Benjamin Britten and Ainslie Murray and Felix White. Gretchaninov’s version Is heard on this recording and the order in which the dances are played, which differs from that adopted in the ballet, is as follows: Prelude, Op. 28, No. 7; Nocturne, Op. 32, No. 2; Waltz, Op. 70, No. I; Prelude, Op. 28, No. 7; Mazurka, Op. 67, No. 3; Mazurka, Op. 33, No. 2; Waltz, Op. 64, No. 2; Grande Valse brillionte, Op. 18.

dance music for three-quarters of a century. Johann Strauss, Senior, the founder of the dynasty, was the first to be acclaimed ” Waltz King “. But the crown was soon wrested from him by his eldest son, Johann the Younger, who surpassed his father’s achievement in every field, except possibly as a conductor. But if the name of Strauss is synonymous with the Viennese waltz, it should not be forgotten that the family—including the other sons Josef and Eduard—wrote an even greater number, all told, of polkas, galops, marches and quadrilles to satisfy the insatiable popular demand of the day.

Father Strauss is represented on this record by the work by which he is nowadays best remembered, the Radetzky March—though his contemporaries would no doubt have plumped for his Lorelel-Rheinkldnge Waltz or Donaulieder. It was composed as a tribute to General Radetzky after his victories at the head of the Hapsburg armies over the Italian forces in 1848. Revolution was in the air in Vienna, Radetzky was the popular hero of the Republicans, and tempers ran high. Strauss, a loyal monarchist, had intended his new March merely as an expression of patriotic feeling, but it was invested by the Viennese with a political significance it was not meant to carry, and the resulting outcry did great harm to his reputation. However, the matter was soon forgotten and the March came to be regarded as Austria’s unofficial national anthem.

As with his waltzes, the marches and polkas of Johann II show a greater sophistication than those of his father. The glittering Oriental colouring of the Egyptian March recalls the turquerie of Mozart’s Entfuhrung. Dedicated to Archduke Friedrich of Baden, the March was first heard at one of the promenade concerts given by the Strauss Orchestra at the famous Baden-Baden Spa. The Annen Polka, with its wistful feminine charm, stands out as something of an exception among Johann’s hundreds of racy polkas. It can be taken as a portrait of his mother, Anna Strauss, after whom Strauss, Senior, also named a polka.

As their titles suggest, Thunder and Lightning and Explosions are two of the most exuberant of Strauss’s polkas, their unbuttoned boisterousness making a perfect contrast with the delicate plucked-string effects of the famous Pizzicato Polka, a joint composition of Johann and his brother Josef, who quite possibly contributed the Trio section. Tritsch-Trotsch, another popular favourite, amusingly depicts the tittle-tattle of scandal-mongers and gossips. The Overture to Waldmeister is all that is ever heard nowadays of Strauss’s penultimate operetta. The story, about a village whose inhabitants become mysteriously Inebriated, was blamed for the work’s failure, though Brahms admired it and left a token of his respect for the composer by adding a counter-melody for the first violins to the waltz theme at the point where It returns near the end played by the flutes.

David Hunt

She came from an old Andalusian family and was christened Concepcion Supervia Pascual. She was educated in a convent in her native city, and later at the Conservatory of the Liceo, Barcelona.

Her stage debut took place in Buenos Aires in 1910 in Breton’s opera Los amantes de Teruel and during her first season she was also heard in Stiattesi’s Bianca di Beaulieu; among her fellow artists were the tenor Francisco Villas and the baritone Jose Segura Tallien.

In November 1911 she was chosen to sing the role of Oktavian in the first Italian performance of Der Rosenkavalier at the Teatro Constanzi, Rome, with Hariclea Darclee, the first Tosca, as the Marschallin, Ines Maria Ferraris as Sophie and Pavel Ludikar as Ochs.

In 1912 Supervia appeared at the Teatro Liceo Barcelona as Carmen and Delilah with the tenor Bernardo De Muro. In 1914 she sang Leonora in La Favorita, Mignon, Carmen, Santuzza, and Maddalena in Rigoletto in Havana. Other members of the company included Maria Barrientos, Rosalia Chalia Herrera and Concetto Paterna.

In 1915 Supervia made her American debut with the Chicago Opera as Charlotte in Werther with Lucien Muratore; she was also heard as Mignon and Carmen; in both of these operas she sang opposite the tenor Charles Dalmores.

By the end of the war she was again in Barcelona singing Delilah; and by the early 1920’s she was establishing herself in Italy: Marguerite in the Berlioz Faust at Bergamo, Car-men at Genoa, Mignon at Ferrara.

Then came an invitation’to join the Scala company for the 1924-5 season. The theatre at this time was enjoying one of the most successful periods in its history under Toscanini; and Supervia sang there during each season until 1929. Her first appearance was as Hansel with Ines Maria Ferraris as Gretel and Elvira Casazza as the Witch, conductor Ettore Panizza; she repeated this role in 1926 and 1929. In 1927 and 1928 she sang Oktavian, the first time under Panizza, the second under Strauss himself, who also conducted a revival of Figaro with Supervia as Cherubino, Mercedes Llopart as the Countess, Adelaide Saraceni as Susanna, Stabile as Figaro and Umberto Di Lelio as the Count. This opera was repeated the following season under Gabriele Santini, who also conducted the first Scala performance of Ravel’s L’Heure Espagnole, with Supervia as Concepcion.

It is strange that the Scala never heard her either as Car-men or in the Rossini roles that she made so much her own during the years 1925-35. These included Angelina in Cenerentola, Isabella in L’Italiana in Algeri and Rosina in Il Barbiere (in its original key). She sang these roles under a variety of conductors—Gui, Marinuzzi, Bellezza and Serafin; and with an ensemble of artists whom she virtually insisted should always appear with her in these works : Piesira Giri, Ebe Ticozzi, Dino Borgioli, Nino Ederle, Vincenzo Bettoni, and Carlo Scattola. When these operas were heard in Florence, Turin, Paris and London, it was with these artists; though at Covent Garden Ezio Pinza was also heard as Don Magnifico in Cenerentola.

Supervia’s London debut took place on March 28th, 1930 at the Queen’s Hall; and from thence onwards she was a frequent visitor to our concert halls. A year later she married Mr. Ben Rubenstein, a London business man, and made her home in England. She was invited to appear at Covent Garden as both Carmen and Cenerentola in 1934, but declined to do both roles at the same time, because of the great difference, dramatically and musically, in them. So in 1934 she sang only Cenerentola; in the first part of the 1935 season she repeated this role and added Isabella in L’Italiana, and then, in the latter part of the season, she sang Carmen under Sir Thomas Beecham with Jose Luccioni as Don Jose, Jose Beckmans as Escamillo and Ina Souez (later Joan Cross) as Micaela.

Supervia had sung Carmen in Paris in 1930 with Gaston Micheletti as Jose, Andre Gaudin as Escamillo and Odette Ertaud as Micaela; and she returned to sing it again at the Opera-Comique in 1933. It was during 1930, however, that the extracts on this record were made with her original Paris Jose (Micheletti), Mercedes (Andree Bernadet) and Frasquita (Andree Vavon); the conductor is Gustav Clodz.

After Supervia’s Covent Garden appearances in the summer of 1935, it was announced that she would again sing there during the short autumn season and would tour the British provinces with the Covent Garden company in Cenerentola. For health reasons she had to cancel these appearances.

On March 29th, 1936 she entered a London nursing home to await the birth of her baby. On March 30th, she gave birth to a still-born child and a few hours later she herself died. Fortunately her voice and art have been preserved for all time by the Gramophone, and twenty years after her death we can still enjoy the magic and charm that were Conchita Supervia.

La Valse (1920) was also first conceived as a ballet and received its premiere in Paris towards the end of 1920, the choreography being created by Fokine. An earlier performance had taken place in Vienna, where Ravel had played the work as a piano duet: His partner was the Italian pianist and composer, Alfredo Casella, who has told us that Ravel drew some of the material for this “poeme choreographive” from sketches for a tone poem to be called “Wien,” which Ravel had had in mind some three or four years previous. Casella has also stated that the composer drew certain inspiration from a poem which fell into three sections: The Birth of the Waltz – The Waltz – the Apotheosis of the Waltz.

Ravel heads the score with a preface: “At first the scene is dimmed by a kind of whirling mist, through which one discerns, vaguely and intermittingly, the waltzing couples. Little by little, the vapours disperse, the illumination grows brighter, revealing an immense ballroom filled with dancers; the blaze of the chandeliers comes to full splendour. An Imperial Court about 1855:” From a vague and almost intangible opening Ravel works up fragmentary melodies and mere suggestions of musical ideas into a dazzling and colourful kaleidescope of sound. There is, none the less, underlying this superficial brilliance, a bitterness and cynicism which seems to reflect the composer’s view of Imperial Vienna in its decadence.