No Haydn symphony is as well-known to the general public as the “Surprise” symphony, with its dramatic “wake-up call” chord in the second movement.
Even beyond that, though, this symphony is musically noteworthy. Haydn composed it during one of his visits to London in the early 1790s (as part of his “London Symphonies”), and it shows the full flowering of Haydn’s mature symphonic style.
A singing opening Adagio, with alternating wind and string choirs, gives way to a light-hearted Vivace, starting with an unassuming melody in the violins which rapidly changes into a full-throttle orchestral gallop. The winds are prominently featured, with numerous solo passages.
The famous second movement Andante is actually a series of variations on a simple theme, alternately set in the major key (C Major), minor key (C minor), and its relative major key (E-flat), before making its way back. Beyond the technical mastery shown, the movement evokes many moods – in turn “simple,” elegant, tragic, impassioned, humorous, heroic, and (last) mysterious. The following minuet and trio are elegant in style, with the trio prominently featuring the bassoon.
The final Allegro di molto is a romp featuring florid string passages, especially in the violins.
By the time Prokofiev wrote his first symphony, he was already well-known as a child prodigy and the enfant terrible of twentieth century Russian composition. His pugnacious rhythms, violent melodic gymnastics and experiments with multi-tonality had already become recognizable trademarks (Stravinsky once said his music had ‘personality’, whatever its supposed aesthetic failings), and audiences had come to expect these elements of conflict in his music.
However, staying in 1917 in the Russian countryside (he was exempt from military service as the only son of a widow), he became interested in writing a work completely away from the piano. As a renowned virtuoso, the piano was his usual compositional tool, but by working without its aid, he hoped that the orchestra would sound more natural. The result was his first symphony: his one foray into Neo-classicism, it harks back to the symphonies of Haydn and Mozart in its reduced instrumentation and formal plan, although maintaining the biting wit (or is it sarcasm?) that is so much a part of his natural expression.
The work opens with a light, airy, exhilarating first movement, with gravity-defying leaps in the second subject. Later he expands on this high string register when the theme of the second movements floats in on stratospheric violins. Prokofiev replaces the typical third movement minuet of Haydn and Mozart with an even older dance, the gavotte, classically partnered with a droning musette; he was later to incorporate this movement into his Romeo and Juliet suite. The joyous finale is full of inventive counterpoint and bursting with irrepressible energy.
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.
French composer Francis Poulenc (1899-1963) almost defies characterization in terms of musical style. He was a member of the famed composer group known as “Les Six” and played a prominent role in 20th-century music.
He wrote many well-known works for the stage (Les Mamelles de Tiresias, Les Biches, Dialogues of the Carmelites), as well as numerous chamber works and concertos.
His Sinfonietta is one of his few large-scale orchestral works. It was commissioned in 1947 for the BBC, and premiered the following year. While Poulenc originally conceived of it as a short, 15-minute work (hence the title), it blossomed into a more substantial four-movement symphony, full of vigor, beauty and wit, with equal prominence given throughout to strings, woodwinds and brass.
The first movement begins with a serious and dramatic minor-key opening, with subsequent rising motifs passed around the orchestra. There is an unusual slow interlude in the middle of the movement in which solo winds are prominently featured, and a calming major-key ending.
The second movement is a lighthearted scherzo, with three witty themes introduced by the strings. The Andante cntabile features winds and strings in melodies written by Poulenc in late-Romantic, almost Brahmsian, style. The Finale is a romp, with an abrupt introduction, several incisive and witty themes, and a surprise ending.
In the 1780’s, Mozart’s fame was, amazingly, already fading in Vienna; but in Prague, then capital of Bohemia, Mozart was celebrated as a rock star would be today. He made a triumphant four-week trip in January of 1787, to be present at, and later conduct, performances of The Marriage of Figaro and also to perform on keyboard and conduct a symphonic concert, as well as generally just to be the toast of Prague.
So popular was Figaro that Mozart remarked in a letter that its melodies were all one heard played, even by the street musicians around Prague. Later that year, Mozart would undertake to write the opera Don Giovanni for production in the city, and his last opera, La Clemenza di Tito, would also be written for Prague.
The Symphony No. 38 has magic in every measure. His ability to retain both an overwhelming expression of his personality, plus classical stylistic grace, within a technique which allowed him to survey and synthesize influences even from different style periods, is nearly incomprehensible. In the Prague symphony, one can hear so many facets of Mozart’s musical expression and genius: total command of the symphonic style, elements of lyric and comic opera and vocally-influenced writing, a complete mastery of counterpoint, and on and on even a foreshadowing of the chromatic evolution of harmony.
The slow introduction of the first movement recalls Haydn-esque majestic treatment, but has also a developmental quality reminiscent of Mozart’s keyboard fantasias. The string color of the allegro reminds one of the opening of the beautiful symphony no. 29, but is suddenly interrupted by a spirited outdoor wind band playing a little fanfare reminiscent of “non piu andrai” from Figaro. The beautiful second movement has been said by one writer to have inspired the slow movement of Schubert’s first symphony, performed by the Broadway Bach Ensemble last year.
Unlike the late Haydn symphonies, Mozart’s Symphony No. 38 is only in three movements, as was early practice for Mozart and apparently still fashionable in Prague. Mozart’s last five symphonies are often grouped together and lauded as achieving new depth and accomplishment in the symphonic form. The wind instrument playing in Vienna at the time was said to be particularly advanced, and one can hear this in demanding passages and in the complex scoring of the symphony.
Zaslaw claims that symphonies had taken on a more serious role, that they were “expected to exhibit artistic depth rather than serving merely as elaborate fanfares to open and close concerts.” What reaches us so powerfully in the music of Mozart is perhaps his direct and disarming humanity: like many of the great ones, he had to deal with making money and relatives and on and on.
Nonetheless, his great accomplishments and proclivities in symphonic writing didn’t save him from some blunt fatherly advice. Leopold warned Wolfgang about writing at too difficult a level for orchestras. The “Father Knows Best” of his time told the composer that bad performances might result. “…for I know your style of composition — it requires unusually close attention from the players of every type of instrument; and to keep the whole orchestra at such a pitch of industry and alertness for three hours is no joke.” Well, dads will be dads, and what concerned Leopold just happens to be our delight.
Leopold Mozart, the father of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, was a well-known teacher and composer in his own right in mid-18th century Germany. Although he composed conventional orchestral and choral works, he also composed a number of programmatic pieces with peasant or rustic themes.
Of these, the best-known is the “Toy Symphony,” also known as the Kindersinfonie (Childrens’ Symphony) or “Sinfonia Berchtolsgadensis,” named after a village in the Bavarian Alps which was an important center for making cuckoo clocks and toy musical instruments in the 18th century.
This lighthearted 3-movement work features a small orchestra of strings, consisting of violins, ‘cellos and basses (but no violas). It also includes an assortment of “toy” wind and percussion instruments (the cuckoo, quail, nightingale, rattle, drum, trumpet and triangle), which are used with a good deal of melody, harmony and humor.
It is clear from the title that Joseph Haydn was a very prolific composer, and all of his symphonies are mature, brilliant and well-crafted works.
Haydn wrote this masterpiece in 1795 during his second triumphal visit to London. This symphony — his last — was one of twelve written for concerts given in London between 1791 and 1795. It is one of the great masterworks of the symphonic literature.
The first movement begins with a grand, dramatic introduction, played in unison, and intended to have the audience take notice. The graceful Allegro that follows is a complete contrast in mood. It starts very simply but soon builds tremendous momentum and excitement.
The second movement Andante is a series of contrasting variations, full of grace and wit. The singing Minuet and lilting Trio are typical of Haydn at his very best.
The final Spiritoso movement is based on a Croatian folk-dance, and builds to a rousing finale. The “London” symphony is a fitting climax to Haydn’s lifetime of symphonic achievement.
With works like this Haydn set the course of Austro-German symphonic tradition which would continue through Mozart and Beethoven to Brahms, Mahler and beyond.
Revolutionary in its time, Beethoven’s 5th Symphony is seen by many as the quintessential symphony. Beethoven composed it in 1808 (at the same time as his “Pastoral” Symphony), and it was premiered in December of that year.
There have been apocryphal stories and descriptions read into this symphony — that it signifies “fate knocking on the door,” that parts of it may reflect his “immortal beloved,” etc. — but in the end, it is the nobility and innate humanity of Beethoven’s composition which have caused it to be universally embraced.
The first movement, dark and with a driving ferocity, is built upon the celebrated opening motif of three short notes and one long note. There are intermittent lyrical respites in the strings and woodwinds, heralded by the horns and bassoons. Overall, the movement is compact, and built upon the 4-note opening.
The second movement has a warm lyric theme introduced by the violas and ‘celli. This is followed by a majestic martial theme by winds, brass and timpani. Beethoven embellishes both themes in successive variations.
The third movement is dark and mysterious, with a foreboding ‘cello and bass opening. A strident second theme is introduced by the horns, with three short notes and one long note, and recalls the first movement’s opening motif. After a vigorous trio and reprise, the end of the third movement leads, via a hushed transition, to the glorious finale, in one of the defining passages of the symphonic canon.
The finale’s opening must have come as quite a shock to Beethoven’s audience. It was the first time in which piccolo, trombones and contrabassoon had been featured together in an orchestral work, and they are part of the orchestral explosion which occurs after the crescendo at the end of the third movement. In contrast to much of the rest of the symphony, the last movement’s themes are optimistic and joyful. A momentary reprise of the third movement theme, and a recapitulation of the Finale’s opening, lead to an accelerated coda and triumphant ending.
Franz Schubert grew up in the most important symphonic center of his time, Vienna. Schubert’s teachers, Salieri and Holzer, were primarily opera composers; but Schubert’s inner drive propelled him to an amazing and early symphonic output.
Schubert composed nine symphonies before he was thirty. Beethoven was already thirty before he wrote his first symphony. (Like Mozart when he wrote the A major violin concerto, Schubert was a teenager when he wrote the first symphony, a mere lad of 16.) Schubert, also like Mozart, was an accomplished violinist and played concertmaster in his school orchestra.
One can see the influence of the Viennese symphonic models his school orchestra rehearsed and performed — Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven — especially in the rhythmic drive of the first movement. The second theme, particularly, carries an almost Eroica-like character.
The second movement is truly a bridge between the customary elegance of Mozart and the beginnings of a new consciousness in art of the time: a certain heavier, darker mood permeates this movement, whose depth is so startling for having been written by an adolescent. The third movement shows more of the experimentation in moving into remote key areas for which Schubert became known, particularly in his chamber music and songs.
The symphony comes to a close in a vibrant movement which also shows the young composer’s emerging formal innovation. Yet, the personality of the master makes an unmistakable impression at the beginning of the last movement: it reminds one much of many of Schubert’s joyous song ideas.
