fable's Q&A on classical music

[Lady Dragonfly]

@ Fable

My sincere apology to Miss Elegance. How could I make such a blunder?! You are right, now I recall you mentioned Her Red-laced Bra...

About Glinka: Naturally, I know that he was not one of the Five. Glinka was Balakirev's teacher.
As to the title "The Father..." , that is the tribute paid to him for 150 years. We may argue about his predecessors or the greater successors, but according to Russian official tradition he is "The Father". It is in the textbooks.

[fable]

@ Fable

My sincere apology to Miss Elegance. How could I make such a blunder?! You are right, now I recall you mentioned Her Red-laced Bra...

The moniker's C Elegans, which is some kind of animal smaller than tax collector, or even a toaster. However, I don't think she'll object to being called Ms. Elegance. The Miss part should probably be given a miss, however.

About Glinka: Naturally, I know that he was not one of the Five. Glinka was Balakirev's teacher.

Not Mily! He idolized Glinka, and met him; and Glinka insisted in his will on entrusted his niece's musical education to Balakirev. But the latter's own musical education, such as it was, consisted of a short course in piano from a pupil of John Field, and a German musician of whom little is known, by the name of Karl Eisrich. He apparently didn't teach Balakirev much, although the latter was able to make use of of the musical library of a local wealthy landowner, Alexander Ulibishbev.

Balakirev was pretty much self-taught in composition. He studied the scores of past composers, and tried to learn from them. There were at the time virtually no concerts to attend, so he was pretty much on his own. His accomplishment as an autodidact was considerable, even if it also led the strong-headed Balakirev to subsequently consider any form of systematic teaching as useless.

As to the title "The Father..." , that is the tribute paid to him for 150 years. We may argue about his predecessors or the greater successors, but according to Russian official tradition he is "The Father". It is in the textbooks.

I've seen it time and again in musical textbooks in college courses outside Russia, but I don't think it was the result of tribute--it was simply an assumption made by late 19th/early 20th century Teutonic musicologists who pretty much drove musical education for more than 100 years. The same people were convinced that Mendelssohn's greatest works were written before he was 20 because he was pampered too much (both wrong), and that Mozart spontaneously composed entire, finished compositions in his head (also wrong), and that Haydn created the quartet and symphony (he didn't), and that Verdi was the father of 19th century Italian dramatic opera (also wrong), etc. This isn't aimed at you, but I shudder in dread whenever I hear a musical figure described as "the father of...," because invariably, they aren't.

[Lady Dragonfly]

My sincere apology to C Elegance then... I stand corrected twice.

Hey, Glinka's influence was so great (Balakirev adopted Glinka's nationalism almost to the point of absurd) that I view him as his Teacher. And if I am not grossly mistaken, it was Glinka who recommended Balakirev to become a professional musician when the latter was a music teacher (?), and later influenced his decision to "organize" the Mighty Handful.
I might be more or less wrong about the above-mentioned facts (and I am pretty sure you will prove me wrong ) but those are my recollections.

I understand your feelings about iconic labels, but it is just a simple fact that since 19th century Glinka was called "the f..." not only in the musical literature but nationwide. It was also a common practice of Stalinist propaganda to attach various labels to composers, poets, writers of the past (and present) to boost national pride and awareness. Some were dabbed "the greatest" and such (quite fittingly most of the time), some -- "reactionary" (of course, lucky dead ones did not care), and some did not get any attention at all.

[Moonbiter]

Ah, it's once again time for the New Year Concert from Wien, and this year it's a real treat, as it is being conducted by Zubin Mehta. Maaan, he's good. Humor, joy, and beautiful music is a perfect way of starting a new year. *sigh* It's been 2 years since I last visited Wien. Time to check my schedule for the coming summer....

Last night I went to the Opera with my wife and some friends to see the light opera "La clemenza di Tito" by Mozart. It was a galla performance, the final one after a one year run to celebrate the Mozart jubilee. The setting was perfect for a New Years eve; the champagne was both cold and free, and there was a nice chamber orchestra playing in the foyer. The performance was nice. Some singers were great, others were quite mediocre, but all in all it came out on top, with lots of gags and a definite festive spirit.

[Tricky]

You're a lot like my dad Fable. :laugh:

Ok, here is something even he can't answer. As far as jazzy influences in classical music go, is there anything that predates the work of Scott Joplin? I had to convert an old Treemonisha record to CD a while back, great stuff. Really hard to find nowadays.

[fable]

Last night I went to the Opera with my wife and some friends to see the light opera "La clemenza di Tito" by Mozart. It was a galla performance, the final one after a one year run to celebrate the Mozart jubilee. The setting was perfect for a New Years eve; the champagne was both cold and free, and there was a nice chamber orchestra playing in the foyer. The performance was nice. Some singers were great, others were quite mediocre, but all in all it came out on top, with lots of gags and a definite festive spirit.

Moonbiter, are you sure it was La clemenza di Tito, and not, say, Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail? Because La clamenza isn't exactly light opera, but opera seria, a largescale, very serious composition focusing on nobility and "noble" emotions, with a specific technical plan. I don't mean to sound critical. It just seems odd to hear it described as a light opera.

You're a lot like my dad Fable.

Should I be pleased, or hire a hit man?

Ok, here is something even he can't answer. As far as jazzy influences in classical music go, is there anything that predates the work of Scott Joplin? I had to convert an old Treemonisha record to CD a while back, great stuff. Really hard to find nowadays.

Joplin may or may not have invented ragtime, which uses some elements of jazz but not others. However, he was the popularizer of ragtime, the first one to get it published. Ragtime enjoyed a remarkable craze among white as well as black audiences for a decade. Joplin was certainly one of the greatest ragtime composers. Unfortunately, the second flurry of interest in ragtime, which started in the late 1960s, also subsided about 10-15 years later. Like the first, it generated honest enthusiasm from musiclovers, but also a lot of gushing from vapid crossover types who simply flit from one new fad to the next. As soon as minimalist music came along with the likes of Terry Riley and Philip Glass, ragtime was deserted once more. The record labels followed suit for the most part, which is why it's so difficult to find good ragtime CDs.

While it's certain that elements of jazz existed at least in black New Orleans music during the latter part of the 19th century, nothing was transcribed to sheet music at the time. Nor was the phonograph put into commercial use until the mid-1890s, and at the time it was only a curiosity. The composer/academician Gunther Schuller in his book Early Jazz claimed you could find wildly elaborate counterpoint and syncopation in African drumming, but I think this is wishful thinking on his part. As a famous jazz drummer once said after coming back from an African tour, "I heard those guys playing their drums all over the place, and they didn't know crap about jazz!" Or words to that effect.

The earliest jazz recordings may be those made by Lieutenant James Europe, who led an all-black dance band that went overseas in WWI. Europe's arrangements sound stiff, except for one chorus on one record where the sophsitication suddenly vanishes less than a minute before the end and the whole affair becomes both far more primitive and looser. It's been speculated that Europe's publisher told him they had more space to fill on the 3 1/2 minute sides, and he accidentally committed to record the first orchestral improvization of jazz, as a result.

[BlueSky]

Wow..what a thread...had to check your age Fable, just to see if you might have been my theory teacher back in the 70's....nope...LOL...:laugh:
Oh the memories this thread brings back...
anyway....as far as the jazz recordings go...Ken Burns made a SUPER documentary on the history of jazz a few years ago, the first couple of discs cover the origins of jazz and the earliest recordings. and everybody owes a tip of the hat to Louis Armstrong.
Still listen to classical every now and then, but I've become a collector of Blues these days....that music just speaks to something inside of me.

keep up the posts, although I doubt if I have anything to add, at least I'll be lurking here often.

[Tricky]

Ah ragtime of course, thank you. I'm going to make it my personal quest to find more of Joplin. A while back my father wanted me to get him this collection CD from Amazon, but although it was present in their database it was unavailable on their and nearly every other e-shop I could find. I was able to find a related record for him at a car trunk sale a year ago. However, it turned out my brother had beaten me to it by downloading it from Bittorrent instead. It was like getting beaten by someone in a scavenger hunt.

Still, I just had to convert the whole thing to CD. Records like that can't be played, they need to be preserved.

[Moonbiter]

Fable wrote:

Moonbiter, are you sure it was La clemenza di Tito, and not, say, Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail? Because La clamenza isn't exactly light opera, but opera seria, a largescale, very serious composition focusing on nobility and "noble" emotions, with a specific technical plan. I don't mean to sound critical. It just seems odd to hear it described as a light opera.

Yes, I'm quite sure.:laugh: I understand your concerns, but no, this was staged as a farce, though the underlying message came clearly through in a humourous and quite burlesque way. Compared to other opera, it's IMHO light as a feather, and not particularily good though I tend to like the lighter fare. Anyway, the production was perfect for a New Years Eve. Spamming a little, I can't believe you think I had so much champagne I didn't know what I saw, you git! :laugh:

[Moonbiter]

Okay, I'm gonna risk a double post, since I seem to be the only one on SYM to go to these shindigs. Go figure! Me, the heavy metal animal, and here I am... The mind boggles. (At least for my former teachers.)

So tonight I went to a concert with the Norwegian Opera Choir and Orchestra with a bit of foreign help, performing Rossini's "Petite Messe Solennelle" in one of the most accoustically appealing and beatutiful churches in Oslo. I don't think I've experienced a better classical concert in this burg in almost 20 years.

I've always had a "thing" for Rossini, and when you haul in Rinaldo Alessandri to conduct, and some of his better La Scala cohorts to perform the solo material, you're left with a one-off experience that is absolutely mindblowing. I really loathe most sacral music, and I can't abide organ tunes, but then there is Rossini, and his way of doing it. "Petite Messe Solenelle" is neither petite nor solemn. Rossini basically wrote a "micro symphony" with dashes of operatic material, and then spiced the entire thing with dashes of sacral choir themes ranging from (his) current expressions to musical themes 300 years older. The entire experience is mindblowing, and it's a bizarre footnote in classical music history that he never got to hear his own orchestral version performed. :laugh:

[fable]

France wasn't keen on orchestral music at the time Rossini was living his last years there, and he had even less clout once he'd retired than the average composer did. There's a story--verified--that he once ran into the director of the Paris Opera on the boulevard. William Tell, his final opera, was in 5 acts, but the Paris Opera had no interest in the integrity of such things, and was given to presenting the most spectacular "bits" of just about everything to attract the typically frivolous Third Republic audiences.

"Maestro!" the director said, addressing Rossini. "We're going to play the third act of William Tell, tonight!" Perhaps he was hoping Rossini would show up, giving the audience yet a boost to their good times. But...

"What, all of it?" Rossini snapped, and walked onwards.

Matters didn't really change for French orchestras until the turn of the 20th century, when reforms were put into place by a pair of competing conductors who believed entire works should be performed, and with a view to maintaining the integrity of the originals. Even so, French orchestras remained more or less loose aggregates of sensational soloists who hated rehearsing together until after WWII. Pierre Monteux, the jocular, walrus-looking conductor that was a big hit with the San Francisco SO and the Boston SO, used to tell stories of his horrific experiences with major French orchestras--including one whose musicians insisted on discussing whatever they liked, aloud, during rehearsal, if they weren't playing at the moment and others were.

[Moonbiter]

Rossini was the greatest operatic composer of his day and age. His rise to fame was so meteoric and his output so immense (36 operas in 19 years) that when he suddenly decided to stop composing and retire to the life of a gourmet and bon vivant, he spent the next 40 years without writing a single note of any significance and was still THE person to visit for every musician of importance who visited Paris. Wagner, Adam and Offenbach was amongst his regular visitors and most ardent admirers. Such was his renown that when he died, his funeral included 6000 mourners, four military orchestras from four different nations who were usually at war, two symphonic orchestras, a choir of 400 singers, and performances by several of the finest opera soloists of the day. That's quite a send-off for the old oddball.:laugh: I always thought it strange that he (as you Fable point out) decided to live out his final days amongst the unrefined plebs of post revolution France instead of moving back to Bologna or Venezia. Why anyone with an artistic soul would expose themselves to that is beyond me, but a surprisingly large number of composers did. Must have been because of the plonk.

[Tricky]

that when he suddenly decided to stop composing and retire to the life of a gourmet and bon vivant, he spent the next 40 years without writing a single note of any significance

What prompted such a decision? Any facts on that, or only theories? I need to know.

[fable]

Rossini was the greatest operatic composer of his day and age. His rise to fame was so meteoric and his output so immense (36 operas in 19 years) that when he suddenly decided to stop composing and retire to the life of a gourmet and bon vivant, he spent the next 40 years without writing a single note of any significance...

I congratulate you on both your musical iconoclasm, and your taste. However, Rossini wrote 9 relatively large-sized volumes of piano music after he stopped composing operas, collectively entitled Sins of My Old Age, which are now regarded as being probably the best French piano music before Chabirer and Saint-Saens, and a strong influence on the former. He also wrote the i]Petite Messe Solennelle[/i], amusingly named because it's actually a very large work. Well worth getting to know.

There are currently three ongoing series to record all that piano music. Though I've reviewed more recent issues from each separately, I'm appending my review of individual issues from all 3 that was done a couple of years ago for a music magazine here in the US, just in case you're curious or interested in pursuing one or another. Makes for a halfway decent comparison:

ROSSINI Piano Music, vol. 2  Marco Sollini (pn)  CHANDOS DDD CHAN 10319

ROSSINI Piano Music, vol. 5  Stefan Irmer (pn)  MDG DDD 618 1353-2

ROSSINI Piano Music, vol. 6  Paolo Giacometti (pn)  CHANNEL CLASSICS DDD CCS SA 22705

There are no surprises, here. Each CD in one of these three, ongoing series of Rossini’s piano music is characteristic of that pianist’s previous efforts.

When I reviewed Sollini’s premiere release, I noted that he couldn’t play softly. There’s improvement here, with moments on this new recording when he manages it quite well. Unfortunately, these two planes of loud and soft performance are largely linear, without slight variation, so that the restrained dynamics in the central section of Les Radis still result in an unvarying color. He also over-pedals, swamping Rossini’s textures in a glutinous haze, and hammers unimaginatively at such pieces as Les Figues sèches and Les Amandes where sly wit, feline delicacy, and quick responses to sudden changes in mood are frequently required. Sound, too, is poor, with an instrument recessed far enough from the microphone to drain what little presence and beauty of sound might otherwise survive Sollini’s assault. You can safely avoid this CD.

Immer’s playing is the opposite of that of Sollini in this music. His leggiera touch and very light pedaling ensure clarity in Rossini’s textures, allowing the pianist’s delicacy to make itself felt in shifts of accent, dynamics, and tempo. A piece like the Prélude Inoffensif –an opera aria of melancholy lyricism and great drama, despite the medium—benefits from this kind of elaborate, rhythmically subtle and carefully calculated treatment. At times, as in the finale of Prélude Pétulant Rococò, Immer seems unable to let go and simply enjoy the exuberant vulgarity that was the Swan of Pesaro’s equivalent of letting his hair down. But in the tongue-in-cheek Bolero Tartare (with it harbingers of Chabrier), the pianist is spirited while never letting the occasionally parodistic elements lapse into burlesque.

Each of these artists is pursuing their own course through Rossini’s extensive pianistic fare, so there’s usually little competition among contemporary releases; but in this case, Giacometti twice crosses paths with Immer. In the Bolero Tartare, the former is typically extroverted, with more of a twinkle in his eye (despite the 1858 Erard he plays, that takes some getting used to). His Prélude Pétulant-Rococo catches better the varied streams of pure Rossini, authentic Rococo style, and mockery hurled at hordes of mincing, once-modern imitations. Also to his liking is the Valse Boiteuse, or Limping Waltz, where Rossini’s exaggerated use of the waltz cliché that prolongs the first beat is whimsically treated to good effect.

Elsewhere, Giacometti is inclined to slight the sentiment in Une Pensée à Florence through shortened note values and an unwillingness to linger over Chopin-like details. Un Regret suffers in a similar fashion: far too rushed and uninflected in its rhythms. This side of Rossini he either feels uncomfortable with, or regards as very much a poseur. Personally, I’m inclined to think that Rossini was always serious, except when he wasn’t; and that this is truly one of the secrets to playing his music well.

Both the MDG and Channel Classics releases are recorded close and realistically, with palpable warmth and presence. My tastes incline towards Immer, but if you prefer your Rossini all high spirits and ten shades of humor, Giacometti should better fill your needs.

...and was still THE person to visit for every musician of importance who visited Paris. Wagner, Adam and Offenbach was amongst his regular visitors and most ardent admirers. Such was his renown that when he died, his funeral included 6000 mourners, four military orchestras from four different nations who were usually at war, two symphonic orchestras, a choir of 400 singers, and performances by several of the finest opera soloists of the day. That's quite a send-off for the old oddball.:laugh: I always thought it strange that he (as you Fable point out) decided to live out his final days amongst the unrefined plebs of post revolution France instead of moving back to Bologna or Venezia. Why anyone with an artistic soul would expose themselves to that is beyond me, but a surprisingly large number of composers did. Must have been because of the plonk.

Rossini loved the good life, which in his case, meant the most sophisticated existence possible, and one where he was apt to be lionized. Paris was, in his eyes, the most civilized place on the face of the earth, and he loved keeping his weekend salon (where his wife, a former demi monde, used to provide a very skimpy buffet, according to Donizetti and Verdi), auditioning new performers, playing his occasional new works, etc. What was not known until the 1970s was that the reason he stopped composing operas was gonorrhea, whose treatment included physical isolation to such an extent that he left him morbidly afraid of everything for more than a decade. When he came out of his shell, cured and free to pursue his own life, Rossini could made his choices--and seemed genuinely happy with them. I've read some of his teasing, exquisitely silly correspondence (all of it originally in French) to Verdi, and there's no question he remained an Important Player on the international musical scene long after his supposed "retirement."

It should be mentioned that Wagner repaid Rossini's neverending kindness with endless attacks, many years later. But then, Wagner was rightly dubbed one of the most noteworthy bastards in musical history for good reason.

[Moonbiter]

Yes, I know and love the piano music, but I hardly think it was very significant as opposed to the rest of his works, and I must admit (shamefaced) that I wasn't aware of it until a couple of years ago when the pieces got renewed interest. As I have an education in classical music with the piano as my main instrument, I find it absolutely unbelievable that none of my teachers ever mentioned Rossini's piano works, but I guess they were discarded for other more "relevant" composers. For three years I had this music history teacher gibbering on about Wagner and practically nothing else. Then he dragged us to the Bayreuth Festival and forced us to sit through the entire Ring. I couldn't handle any opera for 20 years after that, and Wagner still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

[fable]

Yes, I know and love the piano music, but I hardly think it was very significant as opposed to the rest of his works, and I must admit (shamefaced) that I wasn't aware of it until a couple of years ago when the pieces got renewed interest.

I guess this is where the meaning of "significant" has to be considered. Are you thinking (forgive me if my spelling is off) bedeutsam? Because if I recall correctly, that has the meaning in English of "historically significant." In English, something can be significant ding-an-sich, and I was reading your use of the word with that connotation. Sorry. Rossini's piano music is excellent music in itself, and as a reflection of a remarkable personality, and a certain class and period. I think it did have an enormous impact through Chabrier, and certainly Respighi, who orchestrated some of them for an orchestral suite (Rossiniana) and a famous ballet (Le Boutique Fantasque) knew of them. As I recall, Poulenc was influenced by them in his own music, but you're right: they didn't have any other "significance" in the sense of feeding into the line of subsequent musical development. Wouldn't have bothered Rossini, and it doesn't bother me. I know it doesn't bother you.

As I have an education in classical music with the piano as my main instrument, I find it absolutely unbelievable that none of my teachers ever mentioned Rossini's piano works, but I guess they were discarded for other more "relevant" composers. For three years I had this music history teacher gibbering on about Wagner and practically nothing else. Then he dragged us to the Bayreuth Festival and forced us to sit through the entire Ring. I couldn't handle any opera for 20 years after that, and Wagner still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

The idea of musical relevance based on survival and "importance" was a late 19th century creation of German musicologists, and wholy unhealthy, in my opinion. It was one more piece of "social Darwnism" that began with Wagnerian triumphalism: Wagner and Brahms have survived as the two important strands of classical music because they were the best, and they were the best because they survived. End of story." For years, that was taught here in the US by German immigrant music teachers who imposed their values on the a whole range of subjects when the public school system was first set up. It is certainly illogical, incorrect, and horribly biased--as I know you know. I can't speak to what USian schools teach these days, but later academia and the classical music business has long decided there were far more diverse strands of music than just those two. And a lot of people regard Wagner as pretty damned boring. (Many in the British critical establishment still think the world starts and ends with him, however.) I like Lohengrin, and bleeding half hours of other operas, but much I find bloodless, purely orchestrated, harmonically clumsy and thematically second rate.

Just read a biography of Vaughan Williams, the other day. He published a lecture towards the end of his life in which he stated a theme in the last act of Die Goterdamerung was so awful it wouldn't be accepted in a third rate Biergarten. So you're in good company.

[fable]

Still very busy, so I haven't had much time to spend on questions, here. But I did want to point out that yesterday, Friday, Mstislav Rostropovich died at the age of 80. He was a great cellist, conductor, and humanitarian. An opponent of the one-time Soviet regime, he was also a confidant and friend of the composer Dmitri Shostakovich. An adulatory but not inaccurate farewell may be read here. Rostropovich had the cajones to stand up to dictators. Here's to him, and to his music.

[TheAmazingOopah]

I recently looked through this (very interesting) thread, and a few questions came to mind that I think hadn't been asked here yet. If they indeed have been asked already (me having it somehow missed) and you really don't feel like answering them again, please just say so and I will look through the thread more accurate. Having looked at all the posts though, I believe that I'm not going to repeat someone here, so here goes:

Some years ago, I saw the movie Shine, a decent Hollywood biography about the Australian pianist David Helfgott, starring actors like Noah Taylor, Geoffrey Rush and Armin Müller-Stahl. At some point in the movie, David Helfgott has to learn the piano music in Rachmaninoff's third piano concerto, I believe that he was at a conservatorium back then. Helfgott then feverishly goes into months of practicing, and we see him intensely play what appear to be extremely difficult bits on a very high technical level. I believe it is his teacher who actually remarks at some point in the movie that the “Rach 3” is the hardest piece of piano music in the entire world. Now I wonder, how true is this? This piece seems to be indeed very hard (and long of course), but surely there are even more difficult pieces, which may sound less harmonic but are just extremely more complicated? I mean, my guess would be that many composers would basicly be able to write a harder piece by just writing a very modern piece with a ridiculous amount of notes, impossible techniques and an insane tempo. Possibly a bit corny, but possible I think, especially with modern music; just cut the harmony, and put all the effort into the difficulty, something like that. So my question probably splits in two here.

1. First: from what you know of Rachmaninoff's third piano concerto, what do you think of the label “hardest piano piece in the world”, that is given in this movie? Just an exageration or actually not that far from the truth?

2. And second: if the Rach 3 isn't the hardest piano piece in the world, can you think of a piece that would deserve that title, or is at least harder than the Rach 3?

The third question is a bit personal, and flows out of the former two questions as out of mere curiosity:

3. What is the hardest piece of classical music that you have ever played and/or tried to play? (I'm not sure which instrument(s) you play, but you can just include any instrument when answering this question)

And last: I have heard stories of painters who are extremely respected nowadays and who have created paintings that are extremely valuable these days, but who were dog poor and completely unwanted back when they were alive. I can imagine that with certain composers that are very loved today, their fame and the respect for their work also had to grow over the years. So:

4. Can you give good examples of famous composers who were in similiar situations as the painter example I mentioned? In other words: what about famous composers who were also very poor and misunderstood back in their day as composers, even though there work is today raved as brillliant and beautiful?

Already thanks in advance for taking the time and effort to answer. Please take all the time you need, especially if you're busy. I can wait.

[fable]

1. First: from what you know of Rachmaninoff's third piano concerto, what do you think of the label “hardest piano piece in the world”, that is given in this movie? Just an exageration or actually not that far from the truth?

The Rachmaninoff Third is a very difficult piece, but there are others that are just as tough to play, and possibly worse: The Godowsky/Chopin Etudes, for example. Rachmaninoff's Third is played by many pianists, but few will attempt those Etudes because they're so devilishly hard.

That said, I think the most difficult piano music to play was written by Kaikhosru Sorabji (1892-1988). Despite his name, he was a British composer (of part Persian extraction), extremely articulate, and a phenomenal musician who expected not merely great technique but extraordinary stamina from his performers. His Opus Clavicembalisticum, for example, lasts 4 hours. Most composers wouldn't dream of taxing a soloist for 45 minutes, much less 4 hours. Some of his music required 7 staffs (the usual for a piano soloist is 2, for the bass and treble). Very few pianists have performed or recorded his music, though through these he has acquired quite a fan base.

2. And second: if the Rach 3 isn't the hardest piano piece in the world, can you think of a piece that would deserve that title, or is at least harder than the Rach 3?

See above.

The third question is a bit personal, and flows out of the former two questions as out of mere curiosity:

3. What is the hardest piece of classical music that you have ever played and/or tried to play? (I'm not sure which instrument(s) you play, but you can just include any instrument when answering this question)

Well, since I'm a very poor pianist, just about everything was hard. As a modest recorder player, I'd have to say that it isn't the recorder music which is difficult to play, but the elaborate improvised ornamentation expected of some Baroque music written for the instrument. You can play it straight, but it doesn't sound right when repeated endlessly. That's why the ornamentation is called for. I've heard some recorder soloists who employ a technique called circular breathing to in effect take in air through the nose in the brief moments between notes, thus enabling them to play seemingly forever. Now, that's imrpressive. Especially to an asthmatic.

And last: I have heard stories of painters who are extremely respected nowadays and who have created paintings that are extremely valuable these days, but who were dog poor and completely unwanted back when they were alive. I can imagine that with certain composers that are very loved today, their fame and the respect for their work also had to grow over the years. So:

4. Can you give good examples of famous composers who were in similiar situations as the painter example I mentioned? In other words: what about famous composers who were also very poor and misunderstood back in their day as composers, even though there work is today raved as brillliant and beautiful?

Contrary to popular myth, nearly all composers were very well understood during their lifetimes, and so were most painters, too. Those who did very poorly were usually very poor salesmen of their own work. Consider Schubert: he dressed poorly, didn't bathe regularly, and had a habit of cringing before publishers. Other musicians knew his merit, but he let the commercial side of things slide through his own personality quirks.

Or consider Mozart. Contrary again to popular myth, he was extremely well paid through most of his life, almost always ending up in the top 5% of the payscale for Viennese musicians. But he lent money unwisely to friends, even when he needed it, and refused to take lucrative offers outside Vienna, even after the city went into severe economic depression due to Joseph II's disastrous war schemes. There is good reason to believe that, had he lived another couple of years, Mozart would have been secure financially with one of three positions that might have come his way, plus an English tour on which his good friend and fellow composer, Haydn, was then engaged. But it wasn't to be.

What is true is that several composers were suckered early in their careers by publishers who bought works cheaply, that then turned into popular hits. This happened to both Sibelius and Dvorak, among others. They usually turned the tables later in life, however, and Dvorak in particular made his publisher Simrock sweat for his compositions, occasionally giving business to his competitors in revenge.

Hope all this helps. Feel free to ask further, if I haven't been clearer, or I just engender more questions.

[TheAmazingOopah]

Thank you very much for the quick and good reply! Definitely learned some interesting new things there, I especially liked the answer to the fourth question, and will also check Sorabji out some time. Can't think of any more questions right now, but I will definitely ask again if something crosses my mind!