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Concert
December 2006
PROGRAMME NOTES
by
Michael Bell
Friedrich
(Freiherr) von FLOTOW (1812-1883) Germany
“Martha”
– opera in 4
acts (1847-Vienna) Overture
Flotow
wrote around 24 operas in various languages. His biggest
success came in the middle of the 1840s - first with his
opera Alessandro Stradella (1844) and then, three
years later, with his most enduring work of all,
Martha (1847). The opera is a simple, delightful
work with a great deal of melodic charm and it holds a
very special place in the affections of opera lovers the
world over.
There is a
chance for local colour, for the scene is set in that
splendid country – operatic England (populated by
Donizetti’s Emilia di Liverpool and Anna
Bolena, and by Bellini’s Puritans).
The original libretto, in French, was adapted from a
three act ballet, Lady Harriette, or the Servant of
Greenwich, for which Flotow composed one of the
acts. Flotow had the libretto freely translated into his
native German language, the heroine’s name was changed
and the setting moved up the river Thames to Richmond in
Surrey.
Flotow’s
opera does not sound English, (the use of a
beautiful Irish folk tune, The Last Rose of
Summer further complicates matters!) – but that may
be because Friedrich von Flotow came from a German
aristocratic family. His father, a captain in the
Prussian hussars, had planned a career in the diplomatic
service for his son, until the boy’s musical aptitude
became apparent. When he was 16 he studied piano and
composition at the Paris Conservatoire with Anton
Reicha, a pupil of Mozart and Haydn.
He was also greatly influenced by the works of
Rossini, Meyerbeer, Donizetti and Adam. Gounod
and Offenbach were amongst his close friends.
Whether we
consider the opera French, German, English or Italian
(It was always sung in Italian in the early 1900s when
the famous tenor aria M’appari was a favourite of
Enrico Caruso’s) the charming and tuneful
Overture pictures the shifting moods of comedy,
romance and dramatic conflict. The brief, serious
opening is followed by a horn solo of great loveliness
which is developed into a resounding climax. A bright,
restless theme is stated, then a passage of cheerful
gaiety and a rustic tune, accompanied by a jangling
tambourine, pictures the bustle of Richmond Fair. The
two main themes are then reprised, varied and combined,
and the coda sets off at a merry pace leading to a
brilliant conclusion.
Alexander
Porfi’yevich BORODIN (1833–1887) Russia
Musical picture - “In the Steppes of Central Asia”
(1840)
The
illegitimate son of an Armenian prince, Borodin
was a medical man and a distinguished Professor of
Chemistry. He worked tirelessly for students’ rights at
The St. Petersburg medical school and he founded a
School of Medicine for women. Science is my work and
music is my fun, he said. In his somewhat limited
spare time he looked after his asthmatic wife and cared
for numerous stray cats which he rescued from the
streets of St. Petersburg. His death was sudden – he
dropped dead at a party.
Borodin’s
musical gifts were remarkable: a fascinating vein of
melody, enhanced by picturesque harmony and
orchestration. It is a pity, therefore, that he found
himself unable to devote more of his time to musical
composition - (the business with the cats seems a bit
unnecessary) – for in 25 years he only completed 21
works, three of which were orchestral – two symphonies
and a musical picture In Central Asia
dedicated to Liszt and written to celebrate the Silver
Jubilee of Tsar Alexander II. The first performance in
1880 was conducted by Rimsky-Korsakov.
The work, now entitled In the Steppes of Central Asia,
is of exceptional quality. It is beautifully scored and
uses a single, wistful, oriental-sounding tune played on
the cor anglais. Despite the cats, Borodin found
time to write his own programme note for the first
performance, thus saving me a job. Here it is:
In the
silence of the monotonous deserts of Central Asia are
heard the strains of a peaceful Russian song. From the
distance we hear the approach of horses and camels and
the melancholy notes of an oriental melody. A caravan
emerges out of the boundless steppe, escorted by Russian
soldiers, and continues safely and fearlessly on its
long way, protected by the formidable military strength
of the conquerors. It slowly disappears. The tranquil
songs of conquerors and subjects mere in harmony, echoes
of which linger on as the caravan disappears in the
distance.
If a single piece encapsulates the extent of Borodin’s
ability – this is it.
Antonin
DVORAK (1841 – 1904) Bohemia
Symphony
No. 7 in D minor, B141 (Op. 70) (1884-85)
The Seventh
symphony (the second to be published) was the earliest
of Dvorak’s nine symphonies to captured and hold
popular approval. For some time Dvorak had been anxious
to start a new symphonic work as a result of hearing
Brahms’ recently composed Third symphony. (Brahms
was Dvorak’s most influential champion, as well as his
sternest critic). An invitation from the London
Philharmonic Society provided Dvorak with the final spur
to embark on the new work. He took enormous pains with
it and during its composition he wrote, with passionate
sincerity, to a friend: Everywhere I go, I think of
nothing but my new work which must shake the world and
may God grant that it will. It was completed in
little over three months and was first performed at the
St. James’ Hall, London in April 1885. The composer
conducted and he wrote a couple of days later: It was
immensely successful and at the next performance will
be a still greater success.
The symphony
is highly organised and powerful, but it reflects the
conflict which beset the composer throughout his life.
Although Dvorak was a Czech nationalist, he lived at a
time when his country was dominated by German-speaking
lands and the temptation to surrender himself completely
to the influence of German music must have been very
great – especially after Brahms’ kindness towards him.
Thus we find different strands in his music. This
Seventh symphony (among the six greatest symphonies
since Beethoven – Tovey) is in the German
tradition and it was followed by the genial charm and
humour of the Eighth symphony and then by the less
strictly “symphonic” but more popular New World
symphony, in which the folk-idiom of a remote people is
borrowed. Dvorak’s success in each style is an
indication of the broadness of his sympathies.
I. Allegro maestoso:
Brahms’
influence is strong in the first movement which opens
dramatically and mysteriously with a hushed theme on
violas and cellos beneath a restless bass tremolo. This
is followed by a passionate and menacing tempest of
immense uncompromising power. The themes are bold,
direct and urgent and the moments of repose are few.
Even these are generally accompanied by a restlessness
in the lower strings, which never permits the tension to
relax below the surface, until the calm and relaxed
concluding bars revert to the gloom and mystery of the
opening
II. Poco adagio:
If Brahms
was an inspiration in the first movement, the Wagner
of Tristan and Isolde makes appearances in
this the longest movement of the work (or so I am
told!). This opens with a simple 8-bar tune for the
clarinet, which is continued by flute and oboe. The
movement is one of the finest examples of Dvorak’s
ability to write a succession of incredibly beautiful
and inspired melodies, and weave them into a pattern
without disturbing the emotional appeal of the music
itself. A horn solo comes as an ecstatic and uplifting
surprise and after the final climax the music dies away
in an atmosphere of deep tranquillity.
III. Scherzo (Vivace): Dvorak injects a
distinctively Czech spirit into this Scherzo,
which is based on the rhythm of the Furiant – a
folk dance of his country. The mood here is more
carefree, but the ingenuity of the movement lies in its
combination of rhythms at the opening. The upper strings
play a tune in duple time while bassoons and ’cellos
have a counter-melody in 6/4 time, (not easy!) and this
conflict dominates the whole vigorous Scherzo. The
idyllic and pastoral Trio, recalling the
Wagnerian mood of the slow movement, is in striking
contrast. It begins with one of Dvorak’s long,
meandering melodies of extreme beauty.
IV. Finale (Allegro): The Finale,
like the first movement, has two strongly contrasted
main subjects. The heartfelt first theme, which has a
distinctly national flavour, is announced at the start
of the movement and soon reappears on flute and
clarinet. The tragic mood, which has predominated so
far, is only relieved by the arrival of the second
subject - a smooth and lyrical theme introduced on the
’cellos, with ornamentation provided by the violins. It
is a broad, warm and confident line which vies with
other more violent ideas as the movement proceeds. The
coda provides a powerful and fitting conclusion, working
up to a tremendous climax (molto maestoso) when
all the pent-up fury is magically dispersed, before the
final chords triumphantly conclude what has been called
the greatest of Dvorak’s symphonies.
INTERVAL
Jean
(Julius Christian) SIBELIUS (1865 – 1957) Finland
Karelia Suite, Op. 11 (1893) – Intermezzo
and Alla Marcia
Sibelius
wrote a considerable amount of incidental music for the
theatre, and one of his earliest successes was music
written to accompany a pageant celebrating the history
of Karelia. The pageant was organised by the Viipuri
Student Association to fund-raise for Karelian artistic
activities, to counteract Russian cultural domination.
The Intermezzo is a wonderfully evocative piece
with shimmering strings and distant horn-calls.
Karelians,
from the south-eastern part of Finland are noted for
their fun and spontaneity – characteristics exemplified
in this well-known, delightful March. The
infectious tune saunters through various accompaniments,
including being played in canon with itself. There is a
bigger, brassier section, before the opening music
returns to bring the piece to a triumphant conclusion.
Gustav(us
Theodore von) HOLST (1874 – 1934) England
A
Somerset Rhapsody – orchestra, H87 (Op. 21/2) (1906-7)
Holst
was born at Cheltenham and died near London, aged
fifty-nine. He composed as soon as he could hold a pen
and played various instruments. He began professional
life as a village organist and conductor of village
choral societies, and then at nineteen went to the Royal
College of Music, where he spent five years, studying
composition under Charles Stanford. He earned his
living by playing that splendid instrument, the
trombone, at first in theatre orchestras and then in the
Scottish Orchestra. Approaching thirty he laid down his
trombone and taught music in various schools in and
around London. From 1906 he directed music at St. Paul’s
Girls’ School.
Holst became
involved in the folk-song revival in the early 1900s
when Cecil Sharp, Vaughan Williams and others
were collecting the tunes from a rapidly contracting
rural England. A Somerset Rhapsody, dedicated to
Cecil Sharp, was written at his request in 1906. It was
originally called Two Selections of Folksongs and
was performed in the Pump Room, Bath, by the Pump Room
orchestra conducted by Holst, on 3 February 1906 as part
of a lecture given by Sharp. The next year Holst revised
the work and it was first performed on 6 April 1910 at
the Queen’s Hall, London, by the New Symphony Orchestra
conducted by Edward Mason. Despite some echoes of
Wagner which Holst was attempting to avoid, the
bitter sweet tang which he gave to the folksy harmonies
led to his first real critical success.
Over a
chord held by the second violins, the cor anglais plays
the Sheep-Shearing Song (“It’s a rosebud in June”)
which is taken up by the violins. Soon a march-tune,
High Germany, breaks the pastoral mood and the
cellos introduce a third folk-song, The Lovers’
Farewell. The central climax comes when woodwind and
brass let rip with “High Germany”. Holst now
recapitulates “The Lovers’ Farewell” and the work ends
with the expected return of the “Sheep-Shearing Song”.
Holst told a
critic friend of his that he had arranged the tunes to
form a kind of narrative: Into a quiet country scene
comes the sound of approaching soldiers. A youth who is
courting a girl is persuaded to enlist and go to war.
The soldiers march into the distance and the pastoral
quietness returns. The girl is left alone.
SIBELIUS
-The Swan of Tuonela (No. 2 of Four Legends – Op. 22)
Solo COR
ANGLAIS: Julia Barton
Sibelius,
one of the greatest masters of the 20th
century, belonged to a generation of highly individual
musical personalities. Like Delius, he needed the
right environment. Sibelius, the dreamer, found this in
his native Finland, rich in superstitions and legends
and in the sound of the forest and vast nature.
This extremely beautiful piece was to have been the
prelude to a planned (but largely uncomposed) opera,
The Building of the Boat, based on the Finnish epic,
the Kalevala. Sibelius’ subtle orchestration -
the cor anglais as the Swan and strings divided
into fourteen parts, some playing col legno (with
the wood of the bow) -creates a cold reflection of the
strange, magical beauty of Finnish mythology.
The inscription at the head of the piece reads:
Tuonela, land of death, surrounded by a large river on
whose black and rapidly flowing waters the Swan floats
majestically, singing.
DVORAK
-American Suite in A, B190 (1895)
This piece,
completed in the spring of 1894, began life as a
Suite for Piano. A year later Dvorak made the 5
tuneful movements even more attractive with his bright
orchestration. Like the New World symphony, which
was written two years earlier, it was influenced by
Dvorak’s visit to America and it is written in the “folk
idiom of a distant people” viz. that of the
native American. Although it has been overshadowed by
the hugely popular symphony and critics have generally
found little good to say of it, I hope you will agree
that it is well worth hearing. |
