Newly Discovered Piece by Mozart Performed on His Own Fortepiano

A music schol­ar made an astound­ing dis­cov­ery recent­ly while going through the per­son­al belong­ings from the attic of a recent­ly deceased church musi­cian and band leader in the Lech Val­ley of the Aus­tri­an Tyrol.

Comb­ing through the dead man’s col­lec­tion of old music man­u­scripts, Hilde­gard Her­rmann-Schnei­der of the Insti­tute for Tyrolean Music Research noticed a hand-writ­ten book with the date “1780” on the cov­er. On pages 12 to 14 she found an uniden­ti­fied sonata move­ment with the tem­po mark “alle­gro molto,” Ital­ian for “very quick­ly.” On the upper right-hand side of page 12 was writ­ten “Del Sig­nore Gio­vane Wolf­gan­go Mozart,” or “The young Wolf­gan­go Mozart.”

“Wolf­gan­go” was a name Mozart’s father, Leopold, called him when he was a boy. Look­ing fur­ther into the man­u­script, Her­rmann-Schnei­der found sev­er­al pieces that were already known to have been writ­ten by Leopold Mozart. Those com­po­si­tions were respect­ful­ly marked “Sig­nore Mozart,” or “Lord Mozart.”

Although the writ­ing was clear­ly not in the hand of either the elder or the younger Mozart, the metic­u­lous­ness of the tran­scrip­tions, along with the accu­ra­cy of every ver­i­fi­able detail through­out the 160-page book, led Her­rmann-Schnei­der to sus­pect that the com­po­si­tion by “The Young Wolf­gan­go Mozart” was an authen­tic, pre­vi­ous­ly unknown piece.

On the back of the man­u­script was the copy­ist’s name: Johannes Reis­er­er. After an exten­sive inves­ti­ga­tion, Her­rmann-Schnei­der was able to learn that Reis­er­er was born in 1765 and had gone to gym­na­si­um, or high school, in Salzburg, where he was a mem­ber of the cathe­dral choir from 1778 to 1780. That would have placed him in close prox­im­i­ty to Leopold Mozart. “Researchers have thus con­clud­ed,” writes The His­to­ry Blog, “that Johannes Reis­er­er used the note­book to copy com­po­si­tions as part of a rig­or­ous pro­gram of music instruc­tion by Kapell­haus music mas­ters, per­haps Leopold him­self.”

Based on the style and the lev­el of accom­plish­ment in the piece, now known as the “Alle­gro Molto in C Major,” researchers place the date of com­po­si­tion at around 1767, when Mozart was 11 years old. A press release from the Insti­tute for Tyrolean Music Research describes the piece:

Mozart fre­quent­ly select­ed a C‑major key, and the Alle­gro molto has a sonata form with a length of 84 mea­sures. Its ambi­tus is tai­lored to the clavi­chord. The Alle­gro molto could be a first major attempt by Wolf­gang Amadé to assert him­self in the area of the sonata form. This is sug­gest­ed by the rel­a­tive­ly high lev­el of com­po­si­tion­al technique.…Throughout the Alle­gro molto, the­mat­ic for­ma­tion, com­po­si­tion­al set­ting and har­mo­ny have a num­ber of com­po­nents that are found repeat­ed in oth­er Mozart piano works. Hard­ly a com­po­si­tion­al detail points to a con­tra­dic­tion with the gen­er­al char­ac­ter­is­tics of Mozart’s com­sum­mate musi­cal com­po­si­tion. Accord­ing to cur­rent schol­ar­ly knowl­edge, it must there­fore be regard­ed as an authen­tic sonata move­ment by Wolf­gang Amadeus Mozart.

Aus­tri­an musi­cian Flo­ri­an Bir­sak, who spe­cial­izes in play­ing ear­ly key­board instru­ments, gave the pre­mier per­for­mance of the piece on Mozart’s own fortepi­ano last Fri­day at the Mozart fam­i­ly home in Salzburg, which is now a muse­um of the Salzburg Mozar­teum Foun­da­tion. You can watch a video, above, which was record­ed some­time ear­li­er in the same place and on the same instru­ment. You can also read a PDF of the score, and down­load Bir­sak’s record­ing at iTunes.

The first page of Mozart’s Alle­gro Molto in C Major (above) from the 1780 note­book. Cred­it: Salzburg Mozar­teum Foun­da­tion.

via @MatthiasRascher

The Art and Science of Violin Making

Sam Zyg­muntow­icz is a world-renowned luthi­er, or mak­er of stringed instru­ments. Joshua Bell and Yo-Yo Ma play his instru­ments. In 2003, a vio­lin he made for Isaac Stern sold at auc­tion for $130,000–the high­est price ever for an instru­ment by a liv­ing luthi­er. To sum up Zyg­muntow­icz’s stature as a builder of fine instru­ments, Tim J. Ingles, direc­tor of musi­cal instru­ments for Sothe­by’s, told Forbes mag­a­zine: “There are no more than six peo­ple who are at his lev­el.”

Zyg­muntow­icz is the sub­ject of a 2007 book by John March­ese called The Vio­lin Mak­er: Find­ing a Cen­turies-Old Tra­di­tion in a Brook­lyn Work­shop. In one pas­sage, March­ese writes about the mys­te­ri­ous acousti­cal qual­i­ties of the vio­lin, which he likens to a mag­ic box:

The laws that gov­ern the build­ing of this box were decid­ed upon a short time before the laws of grav­i­ty were dis­cov­ered, and they have remained remark­ably unchanged since then. It is com­mon­ly thought that the vio­lin is the most per­fect acousti­cal­ly of all musi­cal instru­ments. It is quite uncom­mon to find some­one who can explain exact­ly why. One physi­cist who spent decades try­ing to under­stand why the vio­lin works so well said that it was the world’s most ana­lyzed musi­cal instrument–and the least under­stood.

The most famous, and fabled, stringed instru­ments are those that were made in Cre­mona, Italy, in the late 17th and ear­ly 18th cen­turies by Anto­nio Stradi­vari and a hand­ful of oth­er mas­ters. In Zyg­muntow­icz’s work­shop in the Park Slope neigh­bor­hood of Brook­lyn, New York, there is a bumper stick­er that says, “My oth­er fid­dle is a Strad.” Behind the joke lies a seri­ous point. Zyg­muntow­icz wants great musi­cians to use his instruments–not because they are cheap­er than a Stradi­var­ius, but because they are bet­ter. He’s try­ing to break a bar­ri­er that has been firm­ly in place for cen­turies. “I call it the ‘Strad Ceil­ing,’ ” he told NPR in 2008. “You know, if some­one has a Strad in their case, will they play your fid­dle?”

Although Joshua Bell owns a Zyg­muntow­icz, he most­ly calls on the luthi­er to make fine adjust­ments to his Stradi­var­ius. But Eugene Druck­er of the Emer­son String Quar­tet told Forbes that he actu­al­ly prefers his Zyg­muntow­icz to his 1686 Stradi­var­ius in cer­tain sit­u­a­tions. “In a large space like Carnegie Hall,” he said, “the Zyg­muntow­icz is supe­ri­or to my Strad. It has more pow­er and punch.” In spite of the mys­tique that sur­rounds Stradi­vari and the oth­er Cre­mona mas­ters, Zyg­muntow­icz sees no rea­son why a mod­ern luthi­er could­n’t make a bet­ter instru­ment. “There isn’t any inef­fa­ble essence,” he told the The New York Times ear­li­er this year, “only a phys­i­cal object that works bet­ter or worse in a vari­ety of cir­cum­stances.”

For a quick intro­duc­tion to Zyg­muntow­icz’s work, watch a new video, above, by pho­tog­ra­ph­er and film­mak­er Dustin Cohen, and an ear­li­er piece by Jon Groat of Newsweek, below. And to dive deep­er into the sci­ence of the vio­lin, be sure to vis­it the “Strad3D” Web site, which fea­tures fas­ci­nat­ing excerpts from Eugene Schenkman’s film about Zyg­muntow­icz’s col­lab­o­ra­tion with physi­cist George Bissinger on a project using 3D laser scans, CT scans and oth­er tech­nolo­gies to ana­lyze the acousti­cal prop­er­ties of vio­lins by Stradi­vari and Giuseppe Guarneri. As Zyg­muntow­icz told Strings mag­a­zine in 2006, “What makes those vio­lins work is more know­able now than it ever was.” H/T Kot­tke

Note: if you have any prob­lems watch­ing the video below, you can watch an alter­nate ver­sion here.

Bono Reads Two Poems by Charles Bukowski, “Laureate of American Lowlife”

Eons ago, we brought you Tom Waits read­ing Charles Bukowski’s poem “The Laugh­ing Heart” in his ever so dis­tinc­tive grav­el­ly voice. Today, we’re head­ing to the oth­er end of the rock audio spec­trum. We’re bring­ing you Bono — short, of course, for the Latin “Bonovox,” or “Good Voice” — read­ing two poems by Bukows­ki, the poet once called the “lau­re­ate of Amer­i­can lowlife” by Pico Iyer. That’s because Bukows­ki made the ordi­nary lives of poor Amer­i­cans and their many tra­vails the sub­ject of his poet­ry.

First up comes “Roll the Dice,” a poem from the col­lec­tion, What Mat­ters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire (1999). Next, “The Crunch,” pub­lished in Love is a Dog From Hell (1977). Both Bono read­ings orig­i­nal­ly appeared in the 2003 Bukows­ki doc­u­men­tary Born Into This. You can find the film list­ed in our col­lec­tion of Free Movies Online (in the Doc­u­men­tary sec­tion), and also more Bukows­ki read­ings in our big list of Free Audio Books.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

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Bruce Springsteen’s Personal Journey Through Rock ‘n’ Roll (Slightly NSFW But Simply Great)

We know that Bruce Spring­steen can put on an amaz­ing show. We saw him do that last week­end at the Apol­lo The­ater in Harlem. (Watch it here.) Now, you’ll dis­cov­er that the Boss can give a damn fine speech too. Pre­sent­ing the keynote address at SXSW yes­ter­day, Spring­steen took his audi­ence on a per­son­al jour­ney through rock ’n’ roll, remem­ber­ing the bands that gave birth to the musi­cal form and that pro­vid­ed inspi­ra­tion for a young musi­cian grow­ing up in New Jer­sey. Elvis, The Bea­t­les, Bob Dylan, The Ani­mals, and James Brown get their due. As does Woody Guthrie. The talk, which fea­tures Spring­steen play­ing some gui­tar along the way, runs 51 min­utes. And it has a few NSFW words sprin­kled in, though they don’t feel gra­tu­itous, at least not to me. Sit back and enjoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Bea­t­les’ Rooftop Con­cert: The Last Gig (1969)

Neil Young Busk­ing in Glas­gow, 1976: The Sto­ry Behind the Footage

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of “Kash­mir”

Autonomous Flying Robots Play the Theme From the James Bond Movies

Yes­ter­day we fea­tured a video of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alaba­ma” being played on a pair of Tes­la coils. Today we keep the music going with some­thing per­haps even more amaz­ing: a swarm of autonomous fly­ing robots play­ing the theme from the James Bond movies.

The robots were devel­oped at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­ni­a’s Gen­er­al Robot­ics, Automa­tion, Sens­ing and Per­cep­tion (GRASP) lab by grad­u­ate stu­dents Daniel Mellinger and Alex Kushleyev, founders of KMel Robot­ics, under the super­vi­sion of Pro­fes­sor Vijay Kumar. The researchers are work­ing to devel­op agile, autonomous fly­ing robots that can mim­ic the swarm­ing behav­iors of birds, fish and insects. In the video above, which was cre­at­ed spe­cial­ly for Kumar’s Feb­ru­ary 29 TED talk, a swarm of nine quadro­tor heli­copters play musi­cal instru­ments. An arti­cle on the UPenn web­site explains:

In this demon­stra­tion, the “stage” is in a room fit­ted with infrared lights and cam­eras. The nano quads all have reflec­tors on their struts, which allows the cam­era sys­tem to plot their exact posi­tion and relay that infor­ma­tion wire­less­ly to each unit.

Lab mem­bers can then assign each unit a series of way­points in three-dimen­sion­al space that must be reached at an exact time. In this case, those times and places trans­late into notes on a key­board or a strum of a gui­tar. Fig­ur­ing out how to get from way­point to way­point most effi­cient­ly and with­out dis­turb­ing their neigh­bors is up to the robots.

The robots are remark­ably agile, and may some­day be use­ful for a wide vari­ety of appli­ca­tions. To learn more, watch Kumar’s 17-minute TED talk, below, which includes sev­er­al aston­ish­ing video demon­stra­tions of the robots in action.

via Cos­mic Vari­ance

“Sweet Home Alabama” Played on Tesla Coils (and More Culture Around the Web)

You can cre­ate music with Tes­la coils if you know how to mod­u­late their “break rate” with MIDI data and a con­trol unit. Case in point. Here we have two sol­id state musi­cal Tes­la coils, using a com­bined 24KW of pow­er, to play a ver­sion of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s 1974 clas­sic “Sweet Home Alaba­ma” (lis­ten to the orig­i­nal here). Also enjoy elec­tri­fied ver­sions of House of The Ris­ing Sun and Duel­ing Ban­jos. via @webacion

More Cul­ture from our Twit­ter Stream:

Jack Ker­ouac’s Only Full-Length Play Will Pre­miere, 55 years After It Was Writ­ten

First MITx Course Attracts 90,000 Stu­dents, Prov­ing the Pop­u­lar­i­ty of Online Learn­ing. Find more Free Cours­es here.

Kurt Von­negut: The Bomb­ing of Dres­den and the Cre­ation of Slaugh­ter­house Five

The Lady Anatomist: The Wax Sculp­tures of 18th-Cen­tu­ry Artist-Sci­en­tist Anna Moran­di Man­zoli­ni

The Ili­ad Visu­al­ized. We Helped Inspire the Project Says the Cre­ator!

Paul Ther­oux Reads The Gospel Accord­ing to Mark by Jorge Luis Borges. Added to our Free Audio Books.

“Mr. Gold­man and Mr. Sachs” Record­ed by @theharryshearer in 2009

Cool Old Sci-Fi Sto­ries for Free on Ama­zon. Tip from @Frauenfelder

Jack Ker­ouac Writes a Let­ter to Mar­lon Bran­do

Sci­en­tists Use Thore­au’s Unpub­lished Jour­nals to Track Cli­mate Change

Clas­sic Sci­ence Fic­tion Movies – in Pic­tures

Fol­low us on Face­bookTwit­ter and now Google Plus and share intel­li­gent media with your friends! They’ll thank you for it.

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Andy Warhol’s ‘Screen Test’ of Bob Dylan: A Classic Meeting of Egos

Yes­ter­day we post­ed John Belushi’s screen test for Sat­ur­day Night Live. Today we fea­ture an alto­geth­er dif­fer­ent kind of “screen test”: Andy Warhol’s unblink­ing film por­trait of an irri­tat­ed-look­ing Bob Dylan.

Between 1964 and 1966 Warhol and his assis­tant, Ger­ard Malan­ga, used a 16mm Bolex cam­era to make 472 short films of peo­ple, both famous and obscure, who came to vis­it his “Fac­to­ry” on East 47th Street in New York. The idea of call­ing them “Screen Tests” was some­thing of a joke, accord­ing to Malan­ga. “None of these screen tests amount­ed to giv­ing those peo­ple the oppor­tu­ni­ty to go on in the under­ground film world,” Malan­ga said in a 2009 inter­view. “It was kind of a par­o­dy of Hol­ly­wood.”

To Warhol biog­ra­phers Tony Scher­man and David Dal­ton, the Screen Tests are seri­ous works of art, the prod­uct of Warhol’s “inge­nious con­cep­tion of a mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry por­trait.” In Pop: The Genius of Andy Warhol, they write:

When movies were invent­ed, their crit­ics claimed there was one thing they could­n’t do: cap­ture the soul, the dis­til­la­tion of per­son­al­i­ty. Iron­i­cal­ly, this turned out to be one of film’s great­est capac­i­ties. Oper­at­ed close up, the movie cam­era lets us read, per­haps more clear­ly than any oth­er instru­ment, a sub­jec­t’s emo­tions. As his hun­dreds of six­ties, sev­en­ties, and eight­ies pho­to-silk-screen por­traits attest, Warhol was com­pelled to por­tray the human face. The Bolex let him home in on flick­er­ing expres­sions and shift­ing nods, a near-instant rais­ing and low­er­ing of eye­brows, a quick side­long glance, pen­sive and thought­ful slow noods, or a three-minute slide from com­po­sure into self-con­cious giddiness–fleeting emo­tions that nei­ther paint nor a still cam­era could cap­ture. Andy’s ambi­tion for the Screen Tests, as for film in gen­er­al, was to reg­is­ter per­son­al­i­ty.

Warhol’s method was to load 100 feet of film into the cam­era, place it on a tri­pod, press the but­ton, and leave it running–sometimes even walk­ing away–until the film was gone. It was like a star­ing con­test he could­n’t lose. Each roll took almost three min­utes. In Dylan’s case two rolls were exposed: one for a wide view, the oth­er a close-up. The short clip above includes footage from both rolls.

The exact date of the ses­sion is unknown. Scher­man and Dal­ton write that it most like­ly occurred in Jan­u­ary of 1966, just before Dylan’s world tour. Some wit­ness­es say it hap­pened in late July of 1965, around the time of Dylan’s his­toric “elec­tric” per­for­mance at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val. What­ev­er the date, by all accounts it was an awk­ward, chilly encounter.

Dylan pulled up at the Fac­to­ry in a sta­tion wag­on with his friend, Bob Neuwirth. From the begin­ning, accord­ing to Scher­man and Dal­ton, it was clear that Dylan was deter­mined to demon­strate his supe­ri­or cool. “As for Andy’s motives,” they write, “he was clear­ly star-struck, in awe of Dylan’s sud­den, vast celebri­ty. He had a more prac­ti­cal agen­da, too: to get Dylan to appear in a Warhol movie.”

But Dylan was­n’t hav­ing it. After the sullen Screen Test, he walked over to a large paint­ing of Elvis Pres­ley that Warhol had already set aside for him as a gift and, by one account, said “I think I’ll just take this for pay­ment, man.” He and Neuwirth then lift­ed the paint­ing, which was near­ly sev­en feet tall, car­ried it out of the stu­dio, down the freight ele­va­tor and into the street, where they strapped it–with no pro­tec­tion whatsoever–onto the roof of the sta­tion wag­on and drove away.

Post­script: Dylan nev­er liked the paint­ing, Dou­ble Elvis, so he trad­ed it with his man­ag­er, Albert Gross­man, for a sofa. It’s now in the Muse­um of Mod­ern Art. (The paint­ing, that is. Not the sofa.)

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed con­tent:

Warhol’s Screen Tests: Lou Reed, Den­nis Hop­per, Nico, and More

Watch Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests of Three Female Mus­es: Nico, Edie Sedg­wick & Mary Woronov

130,000 Pho­tographs by Andy Warhol Are Now Avail­able Online, Cour­tesy of Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty

Leonard Bernstein’s Masterful Lectures on Music (11+ Hours of Video Recorded at Harvard in 1973)

In 1972, the com­pos­er Leonard Bern­stein returned to Har­vard, his alma mater, to serve as the Charles Eliot Nor­ton Pro­fes­sor of Poet­ry, with “Poet­ry” being defined in the broad­est sense. The posi­tion, first cre­at­ed in 1925, asks fac­ul­ty mem­bers to live on cam­pus, advise stu­dents, and most impor­tant­ly, deliv­er a series of six pub­lic lec­tures. T.S. Eliot, Aaron Cop­land, W.H. Auden, e.e. cum­mings, Robert Frost, Jorge Luis Borges — they all pre­vi­ous­ly took part in this tra­di­tion. And Bern­stein did too.

Deliv­ered in the fall of 1973 and col­lec­tive­ly titled “The Unan­swered Ques­tion,” Bern­stein’s lec­tures cov­ered a lot of ter­rain, touch­ing on poet­ry, lin­guis­tics, phi­los­o­phy and physics. But the focus inevitably comes back to music — to how music works, or to the under­ly­ing gram­mar of music. The lec­tures run over 11 hours. They’re con­sid­ered mas­ter­pieces, beau­ti­ful exam­ples of how to make com­pli­cat­ed mate­r­i­al acces­si­ble. And they’re avail­able in full on YouTube. You can watch the first lec­ture (on Musi­cal Phonol­o­gy) above, and find the remain­ing five lec­tures below. The lec­tures can also be pur­chased as DVDs or in book for­mat.

Lec­ture 2: Musi­cal Syn­tax

Lec­ture 3: Musi­cal Seman­tics

Lec­ture 4: The Delights & Dan­gers of Ambi­gu­i­ty

Lec­ture 5: The 20th Cen­tu­ry Cri­sis

Lec­ture 6: The Poet­ry of Earth

This lec­ture series has been added to our exten­sive col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

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