In season of 2017/18, Emmy Lindström’s newly composed clarinet concerto At the Hills of Hampstead Heath was commissioned and performed around Sweden by four orchestras. The work became very popular, and was broadcast several times in SR P2. For the work, she was also nominated for the Music Publishers’ Award Large Ensemble in the autumn of 2018. The work was the starting shot for her brilliant career as a composer of high rank in Sweden. Learn more…
“The inspiration for Ravish and Mayhem came to me randomly while driving on a long trip some years ago. Perhaps highway hypnosis forced my brain to create some sort of entertainment, but nevertheless I was taken by the vivacity and virtuosity of what I heard. The image that stuck in my head was that of a bacchanal-esque Arabian street festival, and I sought to encapsulate that energy into the piece through the triumphant fanfares and lively folk-style melodies that are presented throughout. I imagine a person traveling from scene to scene, witnessing wild dancers, street performers, and amorous couples until the elephants arrive to announce the grand finale. Many thanks go out to Dr. Thomas McKenney and Dr. Stefan Freund for their guidance in writing this piece, Alarm Will Sound for all of their hard work in preparation for this performance, to Jeanne Sinquefield and the Sinquefield Charitable Foundation for their generous support, and to the production team and everyone else who makes the Mizzou International Composers Festival possible.” —stephaniejberg.com
The idea for Tzigane (from the generic European term for “gypsy”) may have come in 1922 after an evening when Ravel heard violinist Jelly d’Aranyi play his new Sonata for Violin and Cello. One account suggests that Ravel was so impressed by d’Aranyi’s playing that after the recital he stayed and asked her to play “gypsy” tunes from her native Hungary all night. These tunes may have served as inspiration for Tzigane, completed in 1924, but Ravel also drew ideas from Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies and Paganini’s Caprices.
Ravel described Tzigane as “a virtuoso piece in the style of a Hungarian Rhapsody.” The first iteration of the composition was written for violin and piano with an attached device called a luthéal, which allowed the piano to mimic the Hungarian hammered dulcimer sound. Later that year Ravel composed an orchestral accompaniment.
The virtuosic piece starts slowly with a lengthy cadenza-like section for solo violin that is nearly half the length of the entire composition. The technical demands for the violinist are significant and include arpeggios, multiple stops, octaves, and left-hand pizzicatos. In fact, Ravel wrote in a letter to d’Arányi. “You have inspired me to write a short piece of diabolical difficulty.”
As the orchestra enters, it heralds the main dancelike portion of the composition. The gradually picks up speed as it accelerates towards the final “Presto”. Over the 100 years since this crowd-pleasing work was composed, Tzigane has been described as “fiery”, “dazzling”, “full of fireworks”, and “scorching.”
Franz Liszt was obsessed with death and religion and the themes of salvation and redemption. His fascination with the supernatural and the macabre led to rumors about him being a haunted or eerie figure. Some people believed that his virtuosic piano skills were the result of a pact with the Devil.
in 1838, when Liszt visited the Camposanto in Pisa, he was awed and inspired by “The Triumph of Death,” a monumental 14th century fresco. That work inspired his “Totentanz,” or “Danse Macabre,” a dramatic and virtuosic composition for piano and orchestra. Composed in 1849 (revised in 1853 and 1859), it is based on the medieval tale of people from all walks of life summoned to dance with death itself. The piece begins with a dark, ominous, and percussive introduction, and then the piano enters with a series of variations (e.g., pensive, fiery, playful, majestic) on the “Dies Irae” or “Day of Wrath” chant, a medieval plainchant used for centuries in the Requiem Mass for the dead, and used by many other composers, including Mozart, Berlioz, Verdi, and Rachmaninoff. (Liszt attended the first performance in 1830 of Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique, with the Dies Irae being a major theme of the last movement, “Witches’ Sabbath.”)
Throughout the piece, Liszt showcases his exceptional piano technique, with rapid runs, thunderous chords, and virtuosic passages. The music alternates between moments of intense fury and eerie calm, reflecting the contrasting emotions of mortality. As the piece progresses, the confrontation between the piano and orchestra intensifies, culminating in a thrilling and dramatic conclusion, where death ultimately triumphs over the living.
Liszt was known for his charismatic stage presence and showmanship. He was one of the first pianists to perform from memory, which was a groundbreaking practice at the time. He played a pivotal role in shaping the way the piano is performed and how music was composed for it during the Romantic era.
This lovely work, which Debussy composed in 1904, had its genesis in a rivalry between two harp makers. Sebastian Erard had perfected the pedal harp early in the 19th century. Pedal harps use foot pedals to raise or lower the pitch of a harp’s strings, and have become the standard instrument played by harpists. However, seeking to improve upon this design, in 1894 Gustave Lyon of the Pleyel firm invented a “chromatic” harp, an instrument with strings for every half step (similar to the white and black keys on a piano).
To publicize his new instrument, the Pleyel company commissioned Debussy to write a piece showcasing the abilities of the chromatic harp. This turned out to be his 2-movement Danses Sacrée et Profane for harp and strings, which he dedicated to Gustave Lyon. While the chromatic harp is now mostly relegated to museums, fortunately this work can also be played on pedal harp, and it has become a beloved mainstay of the harp repertoire.
The first, “sacred,” dance begins in a slow and stately mood set by unison strings, joined by the harp in an uplifting reverie, with numerous ascending and descending chromatic passages. The “secular” dance, which follows without a break, is in the form of a lilting waltz, with various statements of the main theme traded back and forth between the harp and strings. Towards the end of the piece, a short introspective reverie makes its appearance. The waltz then resumes at a joyous pace, followed by a majestic and sonorous ending.
Although titled a “Rhapsody”, this work is actually a set of variations for solo piano and orchestra. It is based on a theme composed by Niccolò Paganini, the great 19th-century Italian violin virtuoso, in his 24th Caprice for solo violin. The Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini consists of 24 separate, highly diverse variations, each based on Paganini’s original theme, with close collaboration between the soloist and orchestra. For the solo pianist, the Rhapsody is an extraordinary tour-de-force, with technical demands intermixed with delicate passagework, cadenzas and ultimate Romantic lyricism.
The work can be divided into several broad sections: an opening fast section (Introduction and Variations I-V); a more free-form “rhapsodic” section (Variations VI-XI); a minuet and scherzando section (Variations XII-XV); a slow section, including the emotional heart of the work (Variations XVI-XVIII); and a rousing finale (Variations XIX-XXIV).
Unconventionally, it does not open with the theme itself, but with a bare harmonic skeleton; the theme itself appears in Variation II, appropriately introduced by the violins. In Variation VII, Rachmaninoff introduces a notable counter-theme based on the Dies Irae, a medieval Latin hymn referring to Judgment Day, and a tune with which Rachmaninoff had a life-long fascination. Probably the best known part of the Rhapsody is Variation XVIII, with its lush romantic theme played first by the solo pianist, and taken up in turn by the orchestra. The last section of the Rhapsody is a driving accelerando and ends, after a forceful reprise of the Dies Irae, with a witty pianistic flourish.
Debussy composed this atmospheric work in 1909-10 as an audition/competition piece for the Paris Conservatoire.
Originally composed for clarinet and piano, it was officially premiered in 1911 by the Conservatoire’s clarinet professor, Prosper Mimart. Debussy was most pleased after hearing the performance, considering it one of the most pleasing pieces he had ever written. He then proceeded to orchestrate it in 1911, and it is best known in that setting.
The “Première Rhapsodie” is mostly free-form. Although only 8 minutes long, it is musically rich while making great technical and musical demands on the soloist. A slow, dreamy opening gives way to a haunting clarinet theme, later characterized by third and sixth intervals. Clarinet mini-cadenzas and flourishes abound against poignant whole-tone chords in the winds and strings. The latter part of the Rhapsodie is a spirited scherzando that accelerates to a climax in the horns. A soaring clarinet cadenza ends this work with a flourish.
Tchaikovsky composed this short work in 1887 while tending a seriously ill friend in Germany. This experience affected him emotionally, and is reflected in the melancholy nature of this piece.
The opening is somber and impassioned; it’s then followed by a lyrical singing main theme. There is a sudden change into a virtuosic scherzo, with brilliant ‘cello passage work. After a return to the lyrical theme, the scherzo makes a final appearance.
This remarkable work was composed by Haydn while he was on his second visit to London in 1792.
It was initially prompted by a rivalry: Haydn’s former pupil Ignaz Pleyel had composed and performed a “sinfonia concertante” in London in early 1792, featuring a number of solo instruments set off against the orchestra. This musical form was very much in vogue in both Paris and London at the time. In response, the impresario and violinist Johann Peter Salomon, the sponsor of Haydn’s London concerts, asked Haydn to compose a similar work for an upcoming concert in two months.
Haydn set to work and composed this sparkling piece work in short order. It features a solo quartet (violin, ‘cello, oboe and bassoon), as well as a full symphony orchestra, in a combination of concerto and concerto grosso styles.
There are some unusual features: in the first movement the solo quartet enters in the midst of the orchestral theme, engaging the orchestral forces even before their own solo entrance.
The middle movement features chamber music among the soloists, and is almost conversational in style.
The last movement starts off as a conventional allegro, but is suddenly interrupted by a number of operatic recitatives played by the solo violin – in the London premiere by Salomon himself.
Tchaikovsky composed the Variations on a Rococo Theme in December of 1876, amidst the turmoil of a failed opera production in St. Petersburg and a particularly nasty review in Vienna from the feared critic Eduard Hanslick. Prone to insecurity even at the best of times, Tchaikovsky asked for advice from the new work’s intended cello soloist, Wilhelm Fitzenhagen. Just 28, Fitzenhagen was a professor at the Moscow Conservatory and principal cellist for the Imperial Russian Music Society. He also fancied himself a composer, and his “corrections” to the work of his well-established colleague show surprising aplomb. Fitzenhagen rearranged the order of the variations,
removing one entirely, and rewrote most of the solo part. Tchaikovsky accepted the changes, and the hybridized version entered the popular canon, thanks to Fitzenhagen’s numerous concert appearances and an 1889 publication. 20th-century scholarship (aided by X-rays) revealed Tchaikovsky’s original music under Fitzenhagen’s emendations, and a reconstructed version debuted in Moscow in 1941. By then, Fitzenhagen’s edition had cemented its reputation among cellists and audiences, and it continues to be the customary choice for performances.
The Variations on a Rococo Theme reference the 18th Century — especially Mozart, whom Tchaikovsky adored. The theme is Tchaikovsky’s own invention, and it has little relation to the ornate Rococo style that emerged in France under Louis XIV, a movement that produced gilded palaces and the trill-happy music of Couperin. Following a stately orchestral introduction, the cello introduces the light-stepping “rococo” theme, balanced into two repeated sections. The theme ends with a harmonically adventurous codetta, first in the winds alone and then shifting to the strings. That material returns various times to link the connected variations, and it brings Tchaikovsky’s rich Romantic voice into dialogue with the lean Classical ideals explored elsewhere in the work.
The first two variations maintain the theme’s flavor and pulse, adding increasing decoration and commentary. The third variation breaks away to a singing melody, one of those heartbreaking tunes that Tchaikovsky unfurled with such ease. The fourth and fifth variations return to an outgoing, virtuosic character, culminating in an extended cadenza. The sixth variation, a minor-key andante, bookends the earlier slow section, and trails off in an ascent of ethereal harmonics. The final variation follows the work’s only pause, and enters with a rustic, throbbing intensity. It intensifies through quick call-and-response phrases and breathless figurations, linking directly to the energetic coda and a rousing conclusion.
Copyright © Aaron Grad 2011