Mozart’s one-act comic opera “der Schauspieldirektor”, or The Impresario, was originally composed in 1786 as a “Singspiel” – a German type of play interspersed with various musical numbers – at the request of Emperor Joseph II for a private performance at the Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna. Mozart wrote The Impresario at around the same time as The Marriage of Figaro.
It contains marvelous music – a well-known overture, and four vocal numbers. The original libretto, however, presents a number of challenges in mounting a full-fledged production. For this performance, we are fortunate indeed to have an English adaptation authored by William J. Brooke, who also happens to be our stage director and play the title role of Impresario (all at once!). In his adaptation, the first two solo arias are largely sung in the original German; the trio and finale are done in English, as is the dialogue.
The story itself is about the woes of an opera company director (Scruples). His scheming assistant (Bluff), who longs to sing bass roles on stage, engages a banker (Mr. Angel) to financially “rescue” the opera company’s upcoming season. In return, Mr. Angel merely requests Scruples to showcase Mr. Angel’s two paramours (Madame Goldentrill and Miss Silverpeal) each of which happens to be an opera singer, and each of which thinks she should be the prima donna for the upcoming opera season!
Of course theatrical and musical fireworks ensue, before leading to a most unlikely (yet satisfactory) conclusion.
Rossini composed his opera based on the Cinderella story in 1817, one year after writing the Barber of Seville, at the age of 25. Rossini “borrowed” the music for this overture from one of his unperformed operas – standard practice at the time – and it works remarkably well in this context.
As with most Rossini overtures, it opens with a slow section in which one can almost imagine the scolding stepmother and the heroine scrubbing the floors. The following allegro is light and lively. It prominently features the winds (particularly the clarinet, his favorite instrument), as well as two versions of the famous long “Rossini crescendo” presaging a happy ending to the story.
The 20-year gestation of this symphony is related to two factors – Brahms’ own self-criticism of his work and the public’s expectation that Brahms would continue “Beethoven’s inheritance” and produce a symphony of depth and scope equal or superior to Beethoven’s monumental Ninth Symphony.
This would be a daunting task for any composer. For Brahms, it was almost paralyzing. This first symphony was finally completed in 1876, when he was 43 years old.
The symphony opens with a turbulently powerful melody underscored by the relentless pounding of the timpani and basses. The movement is dark and brooding, angry and restless. The rich counterpoint of this movement is modeled less on Beethoven or Schumann and more related to the polyphony of musical ideas associated with Bach. Brahms merges a baroque era, fugue-like structure with the scale and power of a modern symphonic orchestra.
The second movement begins with a lyrical, melodic, rising phrase, first in the violins, then in the other sections. Like the first movement, it is introverted and reflective in nature, although it warms at the end with a sense of hope, first with a trio featuring oboe, French horn, and solo violin, and then with a beautiful violin solo, echoed by the French horn.
The third movement, in contrast to the typical, frantic Beethoven Scherzo, places us in a calm, wandering state. It features woodwinds, especially clarinets. Its relaxed, serene style is a welcome respite from the tension and intensity of the symphony’s outer movements.
The immense finale is Brahms’ clearest homage to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. As with that masterpiece, it begins with a dramatic introduction and chorale theme. Even the key of c minor, with its twist to C major at the end, can be considered parallel to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in d minor. The horn calls, after the introduction and before the chorale, are based on traditional Alphorn music Brahms heard on a trip to the Alps. What follows is one of the most famous and moving melodies in all of Brahms’ writing; a melody with a clear resemblance to the famous “Ode to Joy” in Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9. When one thinks of the First Symphony, it is this beautiful melody that often comes to mind.
The root of Brahms’ music lies in the tension between the duple and the triple rhythmic pulse. The inspiration for this can be traced back to his great fondness for the so-called “gypsy” music of Hungary.
In 1852, as a nineteen-year-old pianist, the young Brahms accompanied the Hungarian violinist Eduard Remenyi, whose musical style was greatly influenced by the verve and freedom of the gypsy violin. Brahms developed a great affection for this style and in 1869 wrote his Hungarian Dances for piano duet based upon Magyar folk melodies. He later orchestrated many of these Dances and they are part of our standard repertoire today.
This supernatural fantasy for orchestra was composed by the Russian composer Mussorgsky in 1867 and re-orchestrated by Rimsky-Korsakov in 1886.
Notes from Mussorgsky’s own score make clear its programmatic nature. It starts with subterranean sounds from supernatural voices. Then, there is the appearance of the spirits of darkness, and after them, of Chernobog (the black god). The piece builds to the glorification of the Black God and Black Mass; a witches’ sabbath follows. At its height, the sabbath is interrupted by the distant sounds of a bell in a little village church, which disperses the spirits of darkness as daybreak ensues.
Wolfgang on his hometown:
“Salzburg is no place for me.”
On its residents:
“One can’t have any proper social intercourse with those people.”
On the court musicians for whom he composed:
“Coarse, slovenly, dissolute…”
On his employer, Hieronymus Colleredo (Prince Archbishop of Salzburg):
“[He] glorifies himself through his dependents, robs them of the service and pays them nothing for it!”
Tonight’s symphony was the last Mozart was to write in Salzburg. It’s a happy piece.
This is the symphony which truly defined an age – Beethoven’s “heroic” period, in which many of his great works were composed – as well as the beginning of the “Romantic” period of classical music.
The Eroica is a break from the past. A massive work, it is the longest symphony composed up to that point, making substantial demands on players and audiences alike. Beethoven began composing the Eroica in 1803. He initially called the symphony “Bonaparte,” even writing a dedication to Napoleon Bonaparte as the exemplar of a new age of freedom and liberty; but he angrily tore that up in 1804 when Napoleon had himself crowned Emperor. Instead, Beethoven re-dedicated this work more generally as a “Heroic Symphony to celebrate the memory of a great man.”
The “Eroica,” as it came to be known, was first publicly performed 200 years ago in Vienna in April 1805. We are pleased to help usher in its next century of performance.
The first movement, after starting on two crashing chords, is built on a rising and failing 10-note theme, first taken up by the ‘cellos and then by the winds. Several melodic counter-themes introduced by the winds follow; a series of striking chords punctuates the first section. There is a massive development section in which these themes are expanded, culminating in a crashing series of syncopated chords played by the entire orchestra. A lengthy transition, with an intentional “false entrance” played by the horn against hushed violins, brings us to the recapitulation of the opening theme; a striking coda heralded by the opening theme in the second violins brings us to the end of this movement.
The second movement Funeral March evokes many emotions – grief, despair, defiance, anger and rage on the one hand; warm remembrance, hopefulness, and triumph on the other – before ending in a broken hush. The Scherzo is notworthy for its quick, light and playful character; the Trio for its sonorous horns evoking hunting calls.
After an introductory rush of notes, the last movement’s theme begins simply with plucked strings, is picked up in turn by the winds, and is expanded with a series of variations. A flowing melodic theme is then introduced by the winds. Beethoven then takes us through a number of renditions, including fugal treatments, solo flute and violin passages, and triplet and minor-key variations. A reverent interlude is introduced by the woodwind choir (could this be a hymn of praise to the “hero”?). After a murmuring transition, Beethoven abruptly switches gears again; there is a culminating Presto, with musical climax upon climax hurtling relentlessy to a triumphal conclusion.
By profession an eminent chemist and professor, Borodin (1833-1887) was also a member of a Russian musical circle which included Mussorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov.
While his musical output was not large, it includes some of the best-known Russian classical works, including a number of symphonies, his D Major string quartet (with the famous Nocturne), and his masterpiece, the opera Prince Igor.
The Polovtsian Dances come from the second act of the opera, in which the Khan of the Polovtsi, a Mongol tribe, is entertaining Prince Igor, whom he has taken captive.
While a chorus is used when the dances are played in the opera, they are often played by instruments alone in a concert setting, as we are doing today. An initial processional characterized by wind solos against a plucked string and harp accompaniment gives way to a series of dances alternatively featuring dancing girls, warriors (fast descending clarinet motif); and young boys (leaping wind and string motifs). An accelerating coda brings the piece to its conclusion.
This is one of the best-known and most programmatic symphonies in classical music.
Composed in 1808, it reflects Beethoven’s deep feeling for nature, no doubt due in some measure to his numerous walks in the countryside around Vienna. Each of the five movements is subtitled and reflects a particular mood.
The first movement allegro (“awakening of joyful feelings on arriving in the country”) is announced by the violins, and in turn taken up by winds and the full orchestra. “Scene at the brook” features a rustling accompaniment of second violins, violas and solo ‘cellos set against melodic motifs in the first violins and winds. Rustic dances are featured in the “happy gathering of the country folk” which follows.
The dramatic “thunder, storm” movement, with sudden bursts by timpani and brass, suddenly interrupts the country revels. Then the storm departs, the sun breaks through, and the “shepherd’s song,” with “happy and thankful feelings after the storm,” takes us to the end of this musical journey.
As part of his vast output of vocal and orchestral works, Bach wrote four orchestral suites (or “ouvertures”), probably between 1724 and 1739. They are based on the 18th-century “French style” of overture – a slow opening section with a faster middle section, followed by a variety of dance movements.
Bach’s Fourth Suite is brilliantly scored for trumpets, oboes, timpani and strings, and features all of these forces in its scope.
From the Performance of Fall, 2017.
Ouverture
by J.S. Bach | The Broadway Bach Ensemble Autumn, 2017
Bouree I and II
by J.S. Bach | The Broadway Bach Ensemble Autumn, 2017
Gavotte
by J.S. Bach | The Broadway Bach Ensemble Autumn, 2017
Menut I and II
by J.S. Bach | The Broadway Bach Ensemble Autumn, 2017
Rejouissance
by J.S. Bach | The Broadway Bach Ensemble Autumn, 2017
It begins with a magnificent overture, followed by a lively fugue in 9/8 time showcasing Bach’s mastery of counterpoint, concluding with the stately opening procession.
The following four dance movements are diverse, each showcasing different sections of the orchestra. Trumpets, oboes and bassoon feature in the lively Bourrée and robust Gavotte; woodwinds and strings combine in an elegant Menuet, with a middle section scored for solo strings.
The Suite ends with a rousing Réjouissance (literally, rejoicing or celebration) featuring the entire ensemble.
