Women in Music, on International Women’s Day

It's International Women’s Day which these year does matter more than ever, when the forces of small minded represssion are gaining power, all over the world, in many forms.  ears ago a young upstart advised me "Read more Feminist books". Uh? Like billions of others have done for millenia and are still doing today, I've learned the hard way. It isn't just about middle class western values.  Caring about people, as people, enabling them to have decent lives, these are the values that underpin the issues. And that's also why there's a backlash from those so insecure that their fragile egos need to be supported by hurting others. Real men don't need that.  At least half the world's population is female: We should be celebrating women who do what they do and their best, whoever they are.

But this is a music blog so I'll try to stick to music. We can, and should, be listening to women in music all the time.  It's impossible not to listen to musicians who are women : so many excellent soloists and ensemble players! It is an issue that sometimes they aren't paid the same as men, but they exist.   Making it to the top as a conductor or music director is tough, but that's tough anyway, and there's enormous nastiness in the business, not least of which comes from fans who don't actually listen.  It's about the music, not the ego of the listener. And there have been women composers for hundreds of years, not just in western classical music.  We need to know, and to keep learning. No bandwagon gestures, no instant fixes. No-one plays, writes or conducts with their anatomy, and that includes men. Only when gender is no longer an issue will we have reached common sense.

Picking out favourites  is invidious because good musicians are always themselves, and distinctive.  Over the years I've written a lot about a few special people, like Clara Schumann, whose greatest contribution was her pioneering role as a performer, travelling all over Europe, arranging her own gigs, transport, accommodation, publicity etc. at a time when there were few celebrity artists who supported themselves.  She's the equivalent of Chopin or Paganini, re-shaping the reception of classical music in the 19th century.  Yet still some think she needs promoting for the work she wrote to please Robert.  Hail thee, Clara, a working mother who was a breadwinner, who made Robert's career possible.

And Vítezslava Kaprálová, whi died aged only 25 yet left behind a considerable body of work.  From childhood, she came into contact with almost every big name in Czech music circles, so perhaps it was inevitable that she was something of a child prodigy. She started writing her own music from the age of 9 and entered the Brno Conservatory aged 15. She moved between Prague and Paris, developing a strikingly independent and original voice. She began conducting in her teens and worked with masters like Vítězslav Novák and Václav Talich. In her early 20's she was conducting the Czech Philharmonic and made a notable impact on her contemporaries, including schoolmate Rafael Kubelik. In 1938, aged 22, she conducted the BBC  Symphony Orchestra in her own Miliitary Sinfonieta (1937). Against the background of Nazi confrontation, it's quite a statement. Fierce, bright brasses suggest defiance, more lyrical passages suggest the endurance of more peaceful (possibly Czech)  values.. The tension between driving ostinato and themes of soaring freedom give the piece considerable sophistication. Perhaps we can even hear echoes of Janáček's Sinfonietta in the cheeky, rhythmic fanfare towards the end.  It may well be Kaprálová's humorous way of acknowledging quirky nationalist spirit.  Is the Military Sinfonietta "women's work" ? Of course not : it's a daring take on Janáček's Sinfonietta, by a young composer whose father was a Janáček specialist. She knew what she was doing. I've written a lot about her songs and piano works, which are a lot less famous.  (click on link below)

And then there's Rebecca Saunders, one of the best living British composers, which is saying something. Needs no special pleading : she's that good.  Plenty to find more about her on the net, and many opportunities to hear her music. Saunders  once described her method as being like looking at a sculpture from different angles, in different light, against different backgrounds. Yet Traces(2006,commissioned for Staatskapelle Dresden) operates on a much deeper level: hence the double basses, sounds as darkly sonorous as it's possible to get with string instruments,legato that curves and stretches and lifts off suddenly, to slide along from a different angle. It's like touching a work of art, "feeling" it intuitively. As a blind person might see, visualizing by instinct and emotion, surprisingly sensual.  In the second part,it changes tack. Sharper, brighter textures now, very high strings, though the same sense of sweeping curves, sculpting shapes in swathes of sound. It's like glissandi but created by a group of different individuals playing in such connection they move as a unit, stretching the palette beyond what a single instrument could do. Brass and woodwinds form similar blocks, so there's a sense of great forces rotating, revealing different aspects of sound as they move, leaving in their wake ripples of unpitched percussion. Towards the end the keening sounds stretch out, becoming so pure and clean the music seems to float into infinity.

Major Alphonse Mucha retrospective UK

Alphonse Mucha : In Quest of Beauty, a major retrospective, comes to Britain. It will explore Mucha’s idea of beauty – the core principle underlying his artistic philosophy. "Featuring works mainly from Mucha’s Paris period, the exhibition will examine how Mucha’s distinctive style, popularly known as 'le style Mucha' in Paris, evolved and became synonymous with the international Art Nouveau style. The exhibition will also look at how his artistic philosophy is reflected in the development of his work beyond the ‘Art Nouveau’ period, with examples of works produced after his return to the Czech lands in 1910."

"The exhibition will make links between Mucha's work and philosophy and the Art Nouveau environment and Aesthetic collection of the Russell-Cotes Museum. Sir Merton Russell-Cotes's Bournemouth residence, built in the 'Art Nouveau' style as a home for his Japanese and High Victorian art collections, is an expression of the 'cult of beauty' - a notion celebrated by followers of the Aesthetic Movement in Britain. It will provide a fascinating spiritual backdrop to Mucha’s art."READ MORE HERE.

Mucha worked at a time when the lines between commercial art and fine art weren't quite so separate: think Toulouse Lautrec, Aubrey Beardsley. Mucha's art blends strong formal structure with elaborate inventive elements. Often his symbols come from Nature - the fertility of plants, the concept of constant growth and multiplication. The women are provocatively sensual, but unattainable fantasy.  It's elaborate in a 19th century way, but with the freshness of 20th century sensibility.    This, I think, creates an edgy tension which lifts it above the merely pictoral.

Mucha's son married Vitezslava Kapralova, the composer, about whom there's a lot on this site (follow the labels below) . Please read my article "Vitezslava Kapralova : Remarkable Woman, Remarkable Times", on the cultural renaissance in Czech culture between 1918 and 1938.

Vítezslava Kaprálová - remarkable musician, remarkable times

Vítezslava Kaprálová would have turned 100 this weekend. Had her situation been different, she might, conceivably be alive today, respected  in her own right, rather than a passing footnote in the shadow of others.  We need to remember her, for her music, but also for her place in Czech history. I won't say for her place as a female musician because I don't believe in cynical bandwagon feminism. No-one should be classified by gender. Kaprálová is far more interesting as herself.

Kaprálová  was was five years old when Czechoslovakia gained independence. She left the country before the Germans invaded in 1937, and died in Montpellier, soon after the fall of France. Like the first Czech Republic's, Kaprálová's life ended far too early. Kaprálová is largely forgotten, for anyone who dies aged only 25 leaves little for posterity. They haven't had a chance to fulfil their potential.  She was born into the Czech musical aristocracy.. Her father, Vaclav Kapral, was a composer, her mother a singer. They knew everyone in close-knit Czech musical circles. Kapral was a student of Janáček, and contributed an article on the elder composer's choral music in a magazine celebrating Janáček's achievements. Evidently young Kaprálová heard or read the scores of what Janáček wrote, and no doubt was familar with a great deal more. She came into contact with almost every big name in Czech music circles, so perhaps it was inevitable that she was something of a child prodigy. She started writing her own music from the age of 9 and entered the Brno Conservatory aged 15. She moved between Prague and Paris, developing a strikingly original voice.

Consider her song January, for voice, piano, flute, two violins and cello (1935,  (link HERE) the month  she turned 20. This is a beautiful piece, the non-vocal writing exquisitely balanced. The poet is Vítězslav Nezval (1900-58), whom Kaprálová probably knew personally. He was a musician who studied with Janáček but is better known for his association with the thriving Czech avant garde in the 1920's and 30's, where literature, music and film art flourished in a kind of Czech renaissance largely unknown to anglophones. "In the night the frost painted on my window a delicate vase. I am horrified of winter days and vases!" The protagonist sees frozen virgins in a boarded-up house, a chill church organ, ceilings falling in. Exquisite balance, the instruments (especially seductive cello) curving round the voice, slowly encircling it. And this is just Kaprálová's op 5!


Evidently she had a very original, creative mind. With her impeccable connections, she was very much part of the lively arts scene in the new republic, creating its own distinct identity through music, literature, visual arts and film.  She also lived an independent , liberated lifestyle.  Much is made of her affair with Bohuslav Martinu, but their relationship didn't last. She  married Jiří Mucha, son of Alphonse Mucha, who defined art nouveau painting and design. After Kaprálová's death he married Geraldine Thomsen Mucha. Their home in Prague was a shrine to a remarkable era in Czech history. 

Kaprálová began conducting in her teens and worked with masters like Vítězslav Novák and Václav Talich. In her early 20's she was conducting the Czech Philharmonic and made a notable impact on her contemporaries, including Rafael Kubelik, also part of the Prague musical elite. In 1938, aged 22, she conducted the BBC  Symphony Orchestra in her own Miliitary Sinfonieta (1937). Against the background of Nazi confrontation, it's quite a statement. Fierce, bright brasses suggest defiance, more lyrical passages suggest the endurance of more peaceful (possibly Czech)  values.. The tension between driving ostinato and themes of soaring  freedom give the piece considerable sophistication. Perhaps we can even hear echoes of Janáček's Sinfonietta in the cheeky, rhythmic fanfare towards the end.  It may well be Kaprálová's humorous way of acknowledging quirky nationalist spirit. No really good artist copies, or lives under the control of anyone else. Kaprálová is unique. When she died, aged only 25, after the invasion of France, a truly fascinating talent was extinguished.

Please read my other pieces on Kaprálová and on Czech music and film.

Vítezslava Kaprálová - songs of Czech independence

Vítezslava Kaprálová was five years old when Czechoslovakia gained independence. She left the country before the Germans invaded in 1937, and died in Montpellier, soon after the fall of France. Like the first Czech Republic's, Kaprálová's life ended far too early. Kaprálová is largely forgotten, for anyone who dies aged only 25 leaves little for posterity. They haven't had a chance to fulfil their potential. Kaprálová's known today mainly for having had a brief affair with Bohuslav Martinu, but what music she did leave behind is surprisingly mature.

Kaprálová was born into Czechoslovakia's musical elite. Her father, Vaclav Kapral, was a composer, her mother a singer. They knew everyone in close-knit Czech musical circles. Kapral was a student of Janáček, and contributed an article on the elder composer's choral music in a magazine celebrating Janáček's achievements. Evidently young Kaprálová heard or read the scores of everything Janáček wrote, and no doubt was familar with a great deal more. She came into contact with almost every big name in Czech music circles, so perhaps it was inevitable that she was something of a child prodigy. She started writing her own music from the age of 9 and entered the Brno Conservatory aged 15.

Kaprálová's chamber music is becoming fairly well known because it's original and lively. There's only one recording of her vocal music, however, "Forever Kaprálová" with Dana Burešová (soprano) and Timothy Cheek (Supraphon 2003). You might do well to track down the printed scores because the recording is no great shakes, but some of these songs are so interesting that they should make their way into the repertoire.

Two songs, Morning and Orphaned, were written when Kaprálová wass a teenager. Simple and unadorned, but better that than the over-ambitious pieces young people usually attempt before they learn that less is more. Nonetheless, the songs aren't innocent, for the composer, though young, is well aware of the the way composers around her didn't ape folk idiom but adapted its spirit. Sparks from the Ashes op 5 (1932-3) is a cycle of four songs to texsts by Bohdan Jelinek, a mid 19th century poet who only lived to age 23. The texts are quaintly archaic, the setting isn't. 

Even better is January, for voice, piano, flute, two violins and cello (1935, the month  when Kaprálová turned 20. This is a beautiful piece, the non-vocal writing exquisitely balanced. Kaprálová was a conductor from her teens (see the photo) and knew how music works in performance, not just in theory. Sophistication in the choice of text, too. The poet is Vítězslav Nezval (1900-58), whom Kaprálová probably knew personaly. He was a musician who studied with Janáček but is better known for his association with the thriving Czech avant garde in the 1920's and 30's, where literature, music and gilm art flourished in a kind of Czech renaissance largely unknown to anglophones. "In the night the frost painted on my window a delicate vase. I am horrified of winter days and vases!" The protagonist sees frozen virgins in a boarded up house, a chill church organ, ceilings falling in. Exquisite balance, the instruments (especially seductive cello) curving round the voice, slowly encircling it. And this is just Kaprálová's op 5!

An apple from the lap is another group of four songs to texts by Jaroslav Seifert (1901-86) another avant garde liberal and colleague of Nezval - Kaprálová chooses contemporary texts, nothing safe or easy. Here, the piano figures are exuberantly quirky, pointing to deeper levels in the imagery.  Kaprálová then takes a creative leap forward. Navždy (Forever)(1936-7) is a 4 song cycle."Wild geese are flying south. Someone is leaving soon and will never return". Obviously Kaprálová didn't know that in leaving for Paris to study with Charles Munch and Nadia Boulanger, that she'd never really return home. Yet there's nothing maudlin about it. In Ruce (Hands) also to a text by Seifert, the protagonist imagines her hands shaped like a lyre, combing through her lover's hair."Then the world fell with us into an abyss...we drank the last drops of wine in Canaan". Like her poets, much older and cannier than she is, Kaprálová mixes different moods deftly. Listen to the piano part in Ruce, where the pianist's hands create another new image, reinforcing the spirit of the poem.

Sbohem a šáteček (Waving Farewell) exists in both piano song and orchestral song. Below, I've added a clip of the latter, sung by a tenor. It's infinitely deeper than the soprano version on the CD I'm refering to. It's a masterpiece. The text is Nerval, not symbolist, but extremely sophisticated emotionally. Two people are parting, knowing they may never meet again. Yet no sentimenatlity. Czech is a language that bristles with consonants and sharp, pungent stresses, nothing like English with its tendency to fluid approximation. "...A waving farewell! Carry on, fate!" the last defiant cry.

Kaprálová's ability to write different moods is demonstrated in several songs that follow, ranging from a Christmas song written for her parents, to cheerful songs of nature and birds, to a beautiful, bell-like Alleuia to songs where melancholy is hinted at, while spirits are held high. There's also a song in memoriam Tomáš Masaryk, probably also an acquaintance though not an intimate.

By 1937, Kaprálová has moved to Paris. She's poised to begin a promsing career. The final song Dopis (Letter) was written four days after Kaprálová's marriage to Jiri Mucha, son of the artist Alphons Mucha, who created Czech art nouveau.  It's tempting to read coded meaning into the song, because it's about a lover rejecting someone who has let them down. Since we don't know what really happened between Kaprálová and Martinu, and why she married Mucha, we can't really speculate. Kaprálová had written songs to strong-minded poems of farewell before, like Sbohem a šáteček and With a white handerchief he waves, one of the group of Vteřiny (Seconds) songs. Had she lived, dare I suggest, Kaprálová might have eclipsed Martinu altogether, much as I like him, as she was such an individualistic original.  We don't know, but we can sing the refrain from The Years are Silent  . "The years are silent, the years go by, the song doesn't die away".

Vítezslava Kaprálová - discovery!

While looking up music in the post-Janáček era, I came across Vítezslava Kaprálová, (1915-40), among all the famous names who mentored her, like Talich and Chalabala.  Her father was a composer who'd studied with Janáček. She was very well connected indeed. She started composing as a young child and entered the Brno Conservatory aged only 15, where she studied conducting as well as composition. Two careers. The photo shows her in her conducting suit. She went on to Paris, but died suddenly, tragically, aged only 25.

The name  Kaprálová may ring bells, as she was the woman Bohuslav Martinu supposedly fell in love with, but could not leave his wife. I'd never actually heard Kaprálová's music before so ordered a Supraphon CD of her songs. Haha! One of only two copies available, the last one is £48! For songs you need texts, hence you need a CD. But quite a bit of Kaprálová's chamber and orchestral music is available on MP3. Scores are available too. Her music is fascinating. What a distinctive sound she has, even though she was so young. She's highly original, in a vaguely Janáček style, energetic and inventive. Yet you can already hear her opening out, after she moves to Paris in 1937. You can imagine her going far, leaving Martinu well behind.

Read more about Kaprálová on the Kaprálová Society website, the best resource, put together with love and by people who know Czech music well. There are music samples on the site too. Take your time - she's fascinating. Two samples below from real recordings (one of the youtube channels is digital orchestra) . The first clip is part 1/3 from Partita op 20 for piano and string orchestra (1939).The second is Sbohem a satecek, "Waving Farewell" for low voice and chamber orchestra (1939) premiered in Brno a few months after Kaprálová's death, by Rafael Kubelik.