Symphony Pro Musica - October Concert, 1997

Program Notes


Franz Schubert (1797-1828)

Rosamunde Overture (1820)

[Schubert]Symphony Pro Musica delights in honoring Schubert in the bicentennial of his birth with a performance of one of his most popular orchestral works - the overture Rosamunde. Schubert himself needs little introduction - the composer who's gift of melody surpassed perhaps all others; the writer of 1000 works, despite his all too brief life, of which about two-thirds are songs but which include just about every genre; the only one of the great Viennese composers actually born there (though, like Janáåek, his family was Moravian) - but the story of the overture itself is one of those nuggets of musicology which make it so fascinating. The music of Rossini was all the rage in the Vienna of 1820, and Schubert was quick to imitate it in his opera The Magic Harp. Perhaps because he wrote it too quickly (as is often the case with commissioned works) it was not a great success and, moreover, was the cause of his never finishing the Unfinished symphony! Three years later, when he was asked to write incidental music to the play Rosamunde, he trotted out one of his earlier overtures - but not this one. However, due to an error by his publisher (probably intentional) the Magic Harp overture is the one that has come down to us with the name Rosamunde. It is one of his most pleasing works, especially the opening andante, even though it may be less readily recognized than the main allegro vivace section.


Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 61

L. van BeethovenOne of the most remarkable aspects of Beethoven was his ability to excel in the composition of so many different forms of music. Most music lovers would be willing to admit him as one of the giants of the symphony - but here is a work which extols him also as one of the great exponents of the concerto form, in this case for the most popular subject of all: the violin. According to WCRB listeners, Beethoven's is fourth most popular among violin concertos (after Vivaldi's Spring Concerto from the Four Seasons, Mendelssohn's and Tchaikovsky's). This concerto is a beautiful work, full of lyricism and, well, music. There is probably no great violinist who has not performed it - and it has launched the careers of many.

Beethoven, like Mozart before him, was a great innovator and always ready to throw established customs out of the window. This concerto is no exception, witness the opening: four quiet drum beats immediately answered by a serene, flowing melody in the woodwinds. It's clear immediately that this is not to be some virtuoso tour de force but perhaps a symphonic poem for solo violin and orchestra. The inscription to the first soloist, his friend Franz Clement, for whom it was written, reads: Concerto par Clemenza pour Clement... In addition to its meaning of mercifulness, Clemenza (clemency) also means mildness of temper, and that is the mood which the music captures so perfectly. Beethoven barely finished the parts before the premiere so that no proper rehearsal was possible. Furthermore, there was an intermission (including other music!) between the first and second movements! Perhaps the inauspicious first performance and the relative lack of fireworks contributed to the slow gain in popularity of the piece - it didn't really take off until Joachim played it in London (under Mendelssohn) in 1844.

I like to think of this as Beethoven's concerto for violin and bassoon because of the masterful and extensive writing for the latter instrument. Of course, I could be slightly biased!

After a fairly lengthy introduction of the main themes of the first movement, the soloist first enters as if checking her tuning [Beethoven's little joke on the first soloist, perhaps?] then soaring into the heavens like a lark, followed by a restatement of the first subject. Through the development section, the movement alternates between vigor and compassion, creating a perfect balance of the two emotions which Beethoven himself most embodied.

The larghetto is sublime. Words can hardly do it justice, but note particularly the pizzicato string accompaniment in the second half of the movement. A cadenza then leads into a spirited rondo in 6/8 time, full of joy and energy.


Leoš Janáåek (1854-1928)

Sinfonietta, Op. 60

L. Janacek Written in 1926, this is one of the most exciting 20th-century works and is justifiably popular among both serious and not-quite-so-serious music lovers. For many, this is the only work they know of this Moravian composer, which is a pity because he wrote much excellent music, usually infused with a little humor and full of the melodies and rhythms of his native land (now the Eastern half of the Czech Republic). But there is another constituency for which this is perhaps the most popular work, viz. the brass section of the orchestra, especially trumpet and cornet players, for which Janáåek calls for 14 (!).

Born 13 years after Dvorák and six before Mahler (both Bohemians, though much of the latter's childhood was spent just inside Moravia), Janáåek doesn't fit neatly into any period. However, as a somewhat late developer musically, he can be considered contemporary with Mahler - indeed most of his best work, including the present piece, was written after Mahler was already dead. And whereas Mahler "conducted [Opera] to live, but lived to compose [Symphonies]", Janáåek composed mainly opera but conducted (and taught) choral, organ and instrumental music. Although, he became good friends with Dvorak (with whom he went on a walking tour of Bohemia in 1877), I was unable to find any record of his even meeting Mahler. Geographically speaking, Janáåek spent most of his life in or around Brno. He cared little for Vienna (chiefly because, as a Czech patriot, he had no sympathy with the occupying Austrians) - if he looked outside his homeland at all it was to Russia, the source of many of his literary inspirations, for example Tolstoy's Kreutzer Sonata. For much of his life he taught at the Brno Organ School (the precursor of today's conservatory - now known as the Janáåek School of Music), in later years as its director.

The great turning point in his career came in 1916 when his opera Jenùfa, after a lukewarm reception in Brno a few years earlier, was produced in the comparatively major city of Prague to great success. Shortly after (1918) came the moment he had been long awaiting: independence from Austria. These two milestones re-energized the composer and, despite his advancing years, he composed prodigiously, including the Sinfonietta and another of his most popular operas The Cunning Little Vixen, based on, of all things, a strip cartoon in the Brno daily newspaper. He was still busy working when he died of pneumonia in 1928.

Janáåek's most successful instrumental work, the Sinfonietta was written as a fanfare for a gymnastics festival although it also serves as a patriotic declaration to the new Czechoslovakia. It is in five movements arranged somewhat like an inverted double-decker sandwich. The real meat is in the outer and central movements, separated by two scherzo-like interludes. According to the composer, the movements "represent the imaginary glorification and salvation of the city of Brno". The titles which he gave for the first performance were: Fanfare-Parade; Castle; The Queen's Monastery [where he enrolled as a choirboy at age 11]; Street; Town Hall .

The fanfare of the first movement fairly bursts on the scene with blaring trumpets, brass and percussion demanding the listeners' attention. The bold theme is probably familiar to many music lovers even if they don't know the entire work. The allegretto which follows is a very rhythmic peasant-style dance. The slower central section (the Trio) opens out into a wonderful climax, courtesy of the trumpets and other brass.  Next comes the real masterpiece: a movement whose characteristics vary from lush muted strings and harp (with pedal note in the tuba and bass clarinet) through solos for English horn and trombone to the ultra-seco (dry) driving syncopations towards the end. The following allegretto is based on a Moravian "mirror" rhythm. The final movement opens with a haunting flute melody ornamented by small arpeggio waves in the strings (a very characteristic style of this composer). At the conclusion of this section, the trumpets announce "we're back" and the music ends with a reprise of the fanfare.


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