Stravinsky’s music for Pulcinella marks his transition from a Russian idiom, evidenced in earlier works like the Firebird and Petrushka, to a “neo-classic” style focusing on smaller-scale works characterized by order, balance, style and clarity.
Pulcinella was originally conceived as a ballet, premiered in Paris in 1920 by the renowned Ballet Russes. Four great 20th-century artists collaborated to create the ballet — Stravinsky (music), Pablo Picasso (scenery and costumes), Léonide Massine (choreographer) and Sergei Diaghilev (impresario). At Diaghilev’s suggestion, Stravinsky based the ballet music on works composed by Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, a gifted baroque Italian composer of the early 18th century — or so he thought! Modern musicological research has shown that many works formerly attributed to Pergolesi were actually written by other composers, having been spuriously attributed to Pergolesi after his death.
In the ballet, 11 of the 21 numbers are based on works written by obscure 18th- or 19th-century composers, including Domenico Gallo, Carlo Ignazio Monza, and Graf Willem Unico van Wassenaer (an 18th-century Dutch nobleman whose music we have played in previous concerts).
The Pulcinella ballet was a great success, and in 1922 Stravinsky combined 12 of the ballet’s musical excerpts into the 8-movement suite for chamber orchestra which we’re performing today. While the movements retain much of their 18th-century origins, Stravinsky recomposed and reworked them for modern instruments, while adding his own unique rhythmic and harmonic features. All of the suite’s movements contain baroque elements; it’s the orchestrations, sonorities, and rhythmic variations — some of which would certainly jar the baroque ear — which clearly stamp this as Stravinsky’s work.
The noted German composer Paul Hindemith emigrated from Nazi Germany in 1938 and came to the United States in 1940. He was approached that year by Russian choreographer Léonide Massine to write music for a ballet based on works by the German composer Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826). When the project fell through due to artistic disagreements, Hindemith nonetheless went ahead with his Weber project in 1943, composing his most popular work, the “Symphonic Metamorphosis on Themes by Carl Maria von Weber.” It’s a brilliant, audacious and dramatic piece. Hindemith based it on four obscure Weber piano duets which he often played with his wife. One of these pieces (Turandot) is based on an old Chinese pentatonic tune; Weber also arranged that tune as an orchestral overture, which The Broadway Bach Ensemble performed a few years ago.
Hindemith took Weber’s charming piano duets and utterly transformed them into a work of symphonic proportions. Hindemith scored this work for a large orchestra, including a substantial percussion section, and added English horn, bass clarinet and contrabassoon to the usual string, woodwind and brass forces.
The opening Allegro is fiercely rhythmical, interspersed with lyrical wind solos, interrupted towards the end by timpani and percussion crashes. The Turandot scherzo elaborates its pentatonic theme in all sections of the orchestra; Hindemith develops it into a brass and percussion jazz fugue, with a striking section just for timpani and percussion. The dreamy Andantino is a calm in the storm, introspective and lyrical, with clarinet, bassoon and horn solos ending with a running flute obbligato. The closing Marsch moves relentlessly forward — propelled to a heroic theme played first by the horns, then taken up in turn by brass, winds and strings. The piece closes in dramatic fashion with a spectacular ending.
Bizet wrote his famous opera Carmen towards the end of his life. The plot — a gypsy woman who seduces a soldier, joins a smuggler band in the mountains, falls in love with a toréador (bullfighter), and is finally murdered by her rejected soldier — shocked French audiences for its portrayal of lower-class life, realism and debauchery. Unfortunately for Bizet, the opera was not a success, and he died an untimely death just three months after the premiere.
After his death, however, Bizet’s close friend Ernest Giraud made substantial changes to the opera’s format, and Carmen is now recognized as Bizet’s operatic masterpiece. Giraud subsequently arranged two suites from Carmen’s music. The first Carmen Suite which we’re performing today, includes five instrumental sections, including the famous “Les Toréadors;” a sixth movement, Carmen’s “Séguidille,” was arranged by the German composer Fritz Hoffman in the early 20th century and is now commonly included in the Suite.
While the movements are not in the order of the opera, they are atmospheric in themselves: the “fate” motif of the Prelude; the rhythmical Spanish Aragonaise; the dreamy Intermezzo featuring harp and winds; Carmen’s seductive song (Séguidille) “before the ramparts of Seville”; the military motif of the Spanish dragoons (Les Dragons D’Alcala); and, of course, the triumphant procession of the Toréadors from the opera’s prelude and Act 4.
One of the greatest violin concerti of all time, this work was written for and premiered in 1806 by Franz Clement, one of the best-regarded violinists in Vienna. The concerto did not initially meet with much success, and was not often performed in Beethoven’s day. Later in the nineteenth century the concerto gained recognition as a truly sublime work. A key turning point was a concert given in London under the baton of none other than Felix Mendelssohn, with the young violin prodigy Joseph Joachim receiving critical acclaim and propelling the concerto to its rightful place as a masterpiece.
The concerto contains music of extraordinary power, beauty, and subtlety, and places substantial technical and musical demands on the soloist. The first movement contains three interwoven themes played first by the orchestra, repeated and embellished by the soloist. It begins in an unusual fashion with four solo timpani notes starting the opening theme; this four-note motif is played by strings, winds and percussion in over half of the bars in the first movement. A stirring orchestral introduction leads to a seemingly improvisational entrance by the solo violin. The themes are developed and expanded, with plenty of virtuosic violin passages. A calm G minor key interlude featuring bassoons and strings leads eventually to the recapitulation, solo cadenza and stirring end.
The second movement Larghetto is essentially a set of variations, featuring various sections of the orchestra and solo violin, on an 8-bar theme. It has a hymnal quality and contains some of the most ethereal music Beethoven ever wrote.
The final Rondo opens with an ebullient theme played by the soloist first in a low register, then in a very high register, before the orchestra joins in. The theme is repeated several times, with many variations and pyrotechnics by the soloist. It’s a joyous dance between orchestra and soloist, and ends with an uplifting flourish.
Brahms wrote this magnificent concerto in the four years leading up to 1881, at the height of his career. It is a massive work, symphonic in its proportions. It has four movements in all, adding a scherzo to the usual three movements, making it one of the longest Romantic piano concertos ever written. The relationship between the solo piano and orchestra is unique and varied. While the pianist often has towering solos, fiendishly difficult passages and cadenzas, in many places there are chamber-music like interactions between the pianist and the orchestra.
The concerto opens with a sunny, sonorous horn solo, echoed by the piano and winds; the piano breaks into a dramatic cadenza (akin to the opening of Beethoven’s “Emperor” piano concerto), after which the main theme is resoundingly taken up by the orchestra. A lyrical second theme is introduced by the orchestra, and then dramatically amplified by the piano. The main theme reappears in the horn in a minor key, and also heralds the sonorous recapitulation which eventually brings the movement to a close.
The second movement scherzo is anything but light-hearted. It has a tragic feel to it, punctuated by offbeats first in the lower strings and later on in the piano. A vigorous trio in the middle leads to passages of symphonic grandeur, before finding its way back to the opening theme.
After such a thunderous movement, the third movement, with its lyrical opening ‘cello solo, is a welcome respite of calm and serenity. The piano weaves delicate melodic wisps around a soft orchestral accompaniment, wandering into ever more-foreign sonorities, before the solo ‘cello solo gently guides everyone back to the main theme and key.
After the romantic fireworks and deep emotions of the first three movements, the last movement Allegretto grazioso presents a total contrast. It is lightly scored, with a delicate grace worthy of Mozart and Haydn. The main theme is almost childlike in its simplicity, tossed back and forth between soloist and orchestra. Three themes in the middle have a Hungarian or gypsy air about them. A sudden restatement of the main theme by the piano in fast 6/8 time ushers in the coda and triumphant conclusion of this superlative concerto.
Antonio Rosetti was a contemporary of Haydn and Mozart who, in his day, was highly regarded as a composer. He was born Anton Rösner in Bohemia, later changing his name to Antonio Rosetti. In 1773 he was hired as a servant and double-bass player in the well-regarded court orchestra of Kraft Ernst, Prince of Öttingen-Wallerstein in southern Germany. Rosetti’s compositional talents were quickly recognized, particularly for his expressive and sensitive woodwind writing. He soon became the Prince’s court composer, writing many symphonies, concertos, vocal and choral works. In 1789 Rosetti took on the post of Kapellmeister to the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin in northeast Germany. He died three years later in 1792, just six months after Mozart’s death.
In 1781 Rosetti received permission from Prince Kraft Ernst to travel to Paris, where his music had become well-known. Many of his works became regular program pieces played by the Concert Spirituel, the same orchestra that had premiered Mozart’s “Paris” Symphony (No. 31) a few years earlier. Rosetti was very impressed by the orchestra, and composed his symphony “La Chasse” (“The Hunt”) specifically for it.
It features a full set of woodwinds and makes good use of them in this work. As a matter of musical taste, Parisian audiences favored lively and dramatic passages and scales; Rosetti uses those to great effect in this symphony. The first movement starts out with a whisper, with a dramatic crescendo to a first theme of leaps and scale-like passages. An expressive second theme in the strings is reminiscent of a Mozart or Haydn symphony.
The unusual second movement adagio is built around an expressive wind choir of clarinets and bassoons, punctuated by pizzicato string accompaniment. The third movement is a majestic minuet, with a lilting trio featuring solo winds. Rosetti pulls out all of his musical stops in the last “hunt” movement, including motifs of galloping horses, horn calls, and even barking hunting dogs, to bring this piece to a rousing conclusion.
Georg Philipp Telemann was one of the most prominent composers of the baroque era. Widely respected and well-known throughout Europe, he was a friend of Johann Sebastian Bach and corresponded with Handel. A self-taught musician, Telemann early on became adept at playing many instruments, including organ, violin, recorder, viola da gamba, double bass, flute, oboe and bass trombone.
Initially setting out to study law in Leipzig, his musical talents were quickly discovered. After holding a number of posts in Leipzig, Sorau, Eisenach and Frankfurt, in 1721 Telemann became music director in Hamburg of five churches as well as its opera, and remained in Hamburg for the rest of life. Telemann traveled widely throughout Europe, and was familiar with many different styles and schools of musical composition. He was a prolific composer, writing thousands of compositions, many of which survive. His output included operas, cantatas, orchestral suites, concertos, and chamber music.
The concerto grosso we’re playing today was composed by Telemann in 1716 to celebrate the birth of Prince Leopold, heir to Emperor Charles VI in Frankfurt. As befitting the occasion, Telemann scored it for an impressive array of instruments, including three trumpets and two oboes, highlighting them effectively throughout this piece.
The concerto opens with a stately intrada in “French Overture” style, with dotted rhythms.
The second movement is a fugal allegro, first introduced by the violins and oboes, and taken up by the other instruments in turn.
The aria-like third movement features a lyrical oboe solo set against a background of soft strings and continuo.
The dance-like last movement closes out the concerto in joyous fashion, befitting the occasion for which it was written.
This Suite is taken from the ballet Billy the Kid written for the American Ballet Caravan at the suggestion of its director Lincoln Kirstein and based on a story by Eugene Loring. The following is a quotation from an article by Aaron Copland, Notes on a Cowboy Ballet.
The ballet begins and ends on the open prairie. The first scene is a street in a frontier town. Cowboys saunter into town, some on horseback, others on foot with their lassos; some Mexican women do a jarabe, which is interrupted by a fight between two drunks. Attracted by the gathering crowd, Billy is seen for the first time, a boy of twelve, with his mother. The brawl turns ugly, guns are drawn, and in some unaccountable way, Billy’s mother is killed. Without an instant’s hesitation, in cold fury, Billy draws a knife from a cowhand’s sheath and stabs his mother’s slayers. His short but famous career has begun. In swift succession we see episodes in Billy’s later life—at night, under the stars, in a quiet card game with his outlaw friends, hunted by a posse led by his former friend Pat Garrett, in a gun battle. A drunken celebration takes place when he is captured. Billy makes one of his legendary escapes from prison. Tired and worn out in the desert, Billy rests with his girl. Finally the posse catches up with him.
John Cheever (1912-1982) was one of the most important American short fiction writers of the 20th century. Sometimes called “the Chekhov of the suburbs,” his stories are mostly set in the Upper East side and the New York suburbs. His themes focus on the duality of human nature, often expressed as the disparity between a character’s decorous social persona and inner corruption. A compilation of his short stories, The Stories Of John Cheever, won the 1979 Pulitzer Prize For Fiction and a National Book Critics Circle Award, and its first paperback edition won a 1981 National Book Award. —from Wikipedia
In 1979 Jonathan Tunick was engaged by WNET to compose the music for a series of television dramas based on Cheever’s short stories. The composer has adapted some of his music from the series into a suite for full orchestra entitled “Cheever Country“, in three movements:
I. The Five Forty-Eight: A commuter train en route from Grand Central Station to the suburbs.
II. Amy’s Theme: Amy, an eight-year-old girl, attempts to discourage her parents’ excessive drinking by pouring their liquor down the drain. A succession of housekeepers are blamed for this and fired, until Amy is revealed as the culprit. Realizing the pain they are causing their daughter, Amy’s parents resolve to seek treatment.
III. Shady Hill Sequence: A theme and variations describing a suburban town, superficially idyllic but with an undertone of decadence.
“Thinking like a mountain” is a term coined by Aldo Leopold in his influential book A Sand County Almanac. In the section entitled “Sketches Here and There” Leopold discusses the thought process as a holistic view on where one stands in the entire ecosystem.
The essay “Thinking Like A Mountain” crystallizes Aldo Leopold’s philosophy about the balance of nature and our ethical relationship towards its preservation. It is the personal confession of one who momentarily upset that balance and whose remorse became the catalyst which prompted him to become a leader in the environmental movement.
In setting this powerful essay, I wanted to paint a portrait of the mountain. I was fascinated by the overlapping life cycles of the many elements which shared the mountain’s space, from the slow progression of the rocks to the flickering instant of the insects. They simultaneously inhabited the same world and I saw a parallel in the music, where multiple tempos and melodic lines can co-exist. Rather than illustrating the literal sound effects of nature, this music seeks to give voice to an inner natural order built on the primary elements of acoustics as described by Pythagoras. At this level, mathematics and the natural order have much in common with the structure of mountains. This composition was commissioned by a consortium including Explore Park in Virginia, The Billings Symphony in Montana, The Elgin Symphony in Illinois and the Shanghai Symphony in China.
