The “Italian” Symphony is one of Mendelssohn’s most popular orchestral works. He began composing it while touring Italy in 1831, when he was 22 years old. He wrote to friends and relatives about enjoying the climate and art but disdaining the concert music. Musicologists have offered many interpretations of the symphony, linking the musical ideas to specific Italian cities and scenes. This is arguably his happiest symphony, and Mendelssohn once described the Symphony as “blue sky in A major,” referring to Italy’s famous azure skies.
The symphony opens with a burst of sound and energy with repeated notes in the winds and soaring melodies in the strings. Mendelssohn expertly winds melody after melody, never letting the intensity and drive wane. The second movement is reverent and dusky, with melodies in the oboes, bassoons, and violas. Throughout the movement, the lower strings walk a bass line, adding to the processional feeling. A major-key melody in the clarinet breaks through the fog and brings a moment of sunshine but surrenders to the original theme. The third movement, a classic minuet and trio, weaves the strings in a lush tapestry. A militaristic, yet bucolic, fanfare motif in the brass and bassoons provides contrast. The final movement, frenetic and energetic, is explicitly titled “Saltarello,” although it is also evocative of another folk dance, the tarantella. At every moment, it feels like the music will spin out of control! This is one of the few symphonies that begins in a major key and ends in a minor key. It is Mendelssohn at his best – sparkling, singing, and splendid.
Here’s a performance by Gustavo Gimeno and the Concertgebouworkest.
22 minutes. Instrumentation: 2 flutes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 1 trumpet, timpani, percussion, strings, and solo oboe.
Ruth Gipps, born into a British musical family, was a prolific composer, accomplished oboist, pianist, conductor, and educator. As a child prodigy on the piano, she won performance competitions against much older contestants and performed her first composition at the age of 8.
As an oboist, married to a clarinetist, and mother of a horn player, Gipps composed with a deep understanding of wind instruments. Her oboe concerto, written in 1941 when she was only 20, is no exception and draws on pastoral themes of Gipps’ surroundings.
A dark and stormy theme opens the piece, with a foreboding ostinato (persistent motif) in conflict with the lyrical solo oboe. Throughout the movement, an uneasy call and response passes throughout the orchestra. The second movement is a wistful dialogue between oboe, clarinet, and solo violin, accompanied by strings. The pastoral third movement begins with the oboe plummeting into a sprightly jig. The energy shifts to a quasi-improvisational oboe interlude accompanied by a drone in the winds reminiscent of a Scottish reel. The oboe closes out the movement with a fiery cadenza and a return to spinning, dancing, and joy.
Gipps’ career encompassed orchestral playing, solo performances, studying, teaching, conducting, and composing until age 33, when an injury forced her to focus mainly on composing and conducting. Her compositions often draw inspiration from Vaughan Williams. Because she rejected the evolving trends in modern music, such as serialism and twelve-tone music, people began to think of her music as old-fashioned. Affected by gender discrimination, she was limited from the performing, recording, and broadcasting of her work during her lifetime.
It took 80 years for her Oboe Concerto to have its American premiere, with the Richmond Symphony in 2021. Her work has begun a revival, which is something she predicted would happen: “I know I am a real composer, perhaps they will only realise it when I am dead.” This afternoon’s performance is the concerto’s New York premiere.
Born in Germany the same year as Johann Sebastian Bach, Handel worked as a composer in Hamburg and Italy before settling permanently in 1712 in London, where he completed the bulk of his work. He is consistently recognized as one of the greatest composers of his age.
The Water Music resulted from King George I’s commission for a grand, public concert on the River Thames. It premiered in 1717 from a barge of 50 musicians floating upstream on the evening tide, along with a barge carrying the king and several aristocrats. Many other Londoners also took to boats and barges to enjoy the concert. When the tide turned, the procession reversed course back to its starting point. The king was so pleased that he ordered the Water Music to be repeated at least three times in both directions.
The Water Music is divided into three suites, with Suite No. 2 known as the “Trumpet Suite.” The first, fast-tempo movement begins with a fanfare in the trumpet and horn and then moves to a regal dotted-note motif with other virtuoso twists. The second movement, “Hornpipe,” is one of Handel’s most famous instrumental compositions. Its syncopations make it an instant earworm. Although most often called a minuet due to its triple meter, the stately, binary-form piece that comes third in the D major suite in fact carries the heading “Coro,” or Chorus. The fourth movement, “Lentement,” is pensive and provides the only minor moment in the suite. The final movement, “Air” – really in the rapid style of the bourrée – is to be played three times, leaving it up to the musicians to decide what, if any, textural contrasts might be nice each time around.
Just fifteen years ago, piles of sheet music and writings were discovered in an abandoned house slated for demolition. Inside were dozens of unpublished scores, including a symphony and two violin concertos. The house had been the summer residence of Florence Price, a child prodigy who was valedictorian at 14 and studied at the New England Conservatory of Music. She was a pianist, organist, teacher, and composer who had written over 300 pieces of music: four symphonies, four concertos, choral works, vocal work, chamber music, and solo pieces, as well as popular songs. She achieved a degree of success, but during her lifetime she faced challenges in achieving recognition and performance opportunities due to racial and gender bias. Despite that, her “Symphony in E minor” was performed by the Chicago Symphony orchestra in 1933, making her the first Black woman to have a symphony performed by a major American orchestra.
The Second Violin Concerto, completed a year before her death (and later found in the abandoned house), was written in a single movement in the form of a rhapsody. It is framed in the western classical structure, combining lyrical romanticism, impressionist harmonies, and elements of West African and African American spiritual and dance traditions. It is a compact single movement work, richly orchestrated, with contrasting motivic sections and bravura solo violin passages.
As Antonin Dvorak had incorporated folk and national elements into his music, Price, along with other composers of the time, sought to further expand the classical canon with a fusion of traditional and vernacular. Alex Ross, in the New Yorker, wrote, “This terse, beguiling piece has an autumnal quality reminiscent of the final works of Richard Strauss. It deserves to be widely heard.”
In 1823, Schubert was commissioned to compose music for a play called “Rosamunde, Princess of Cypress.” Nearing the deadline for completion, and without an overture written, he opted for repurposing his overture from an earlier opera, “Alfonso und Estrella.” But after his death, for unknown and confusing reasons, a publisher took an overture from yet another Schubert opera, “The Magic Harp,” and renamed it the “Rosamunde” overture.
The overture, in a modified sonata form, begins with a dramatic opening which then becomes lively and lyrical. Schubert borrowed from his own, earlier operatic work, “in the Italian style.”
Although a very prolific and successful composer in a short life — 600 vocal works, seven complete symphonies, sacred music, operas, piano and chamber music — his efforts to compose for the musical theatre were haphazard disasters. The collaborations with the libretti were poor and the performances were few. Fortunately, the “Rosamunde” Overture has survived and become one of his most popular works.
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.
In 1839, 26-year-old Richard Wagner was employed as a conductor at the Court Theatre in Riga, Latvia. With the retirement of his actress wife and overwhelming debts from their extravagant lifestyle, they fled their creditors by boarding a ship for Paris with the dream of his making a fortune selling compositions for the Paris Opera. Their sea journey was hindered by storms and high seas, turning the eight day trip into three weeks. Wagner’s experience in Paris was also disastrous. He was unable to get work as a conductor, and the Opera did not want to produce his work. His harrowing sea voyage inspired the theme of the Flying Dutchman. Its premiere performance in 1843 was his first great success and played a central role in establishing his reputation.
The legend of the Flying Dutchman is the story of a ghost ship, with black masts and blood-red sails, condemned forever to seafaring on the turbulent high seas. The captain can only be rescued from this doom by finding his true love. The overture is one of the most impressive and enthralling storm scenes in music.
Wagner is credited with popularizing and extensively using the “leitmotif,” a musical theme associated with a character, object, emotion, or event. A recent popular example is in the “Star Wars” series. Many leitmotifs are woven into Wagner’s overture, including:
The Dutchman’s Theme: Played by the trombones and low brass, conveying a sense of foreboding and mystery, it represents the character of the Flying Dutchman himself.
Senta’s Theme: Senta, the opera’s heroine, has her own leitmotif representing her longing for and fascination with the Dutchman. It appears in a more lyrical and romantic form, introduced by the English Horn.
The Sailors Chorus: Played by a wind band, it celebrates their safe return to land.
The Storm Theme: This motif evokes the turbulent wind and sea, and the supernatural elements of the story. It is characterized by dramatic orchestration, with swirling strings, creating a sense of chaos and danger. Wagner’s Flying Dutchman elevates a scary old folk tale into a powerful composition of love and redemption.
This monumental work was composed by Berlioz in 1830, just a few years after Beethoven’s death. At that time, Berlioz was an unknown 26-year composer who had fallen madly in love with an Anglo-Irish actress, Harriet Smithson, whom he had seen in the Parisian theater performing Shakespeare. He tried, but failed, to win her attention.
In despair, he poured out his soul in this symphony – a semi-autobiographical tour-de-force – which was revolutionary in its musical impact. Written in five movements, this “fantastic symphony” describes the dreams and imaginings of a love-sick young artist who, despairing of attaining the object of his love, has poisoned himself with opium. He sees visions in the form of musical imagery. His beloved is represented by an “ideé fixe” – a graceful melody which appears in every movement. The ideé fixe binds all of the movements together, although it appears in different guises in each.
A brief description of the movements follows, based on Berlioz’ own programmatic notes:
I. Dreams and Passions: The young artist reflects on his melancholy, despair and anguish; his joyous elation when he sees his beloved, and the volcanic love she inspires. After a somber opening tinged with melancholy, violins and flutes open the passionate allegro section and introduce the ideé fixe. Delirious anguish and furious jealousy intrude, giving way to re-awakening love and, at the end, religious consolation.
II. A Ball: He finds his beloved amid the tumult of a festive ball; the ideé fixe is glimpsed amid the gaiety.
III. Scene in the Country: He imagines himself in the country on a summer evening, hearing shepherds’ pipes play the “Ranz des Vaches” to call in their flocks. The pastoral scene gives him a feeling of calm contentment. Suddenly, thoughts of his beloved intrude; his heart lurches, and he has grim forebodings should she betray him. A solitary shepherd plays his tune again without answer, giving way to distant rolling thunder and silence.
IV. March to the Scaffold: He dreams that he has killed his beloved, has been condemned to death and is being led to the scaffold through a jeering mob. A solemn march interrupted by wild passages accompanies him. At the scaffold, he hears the ideé fixe for an instant – which is interrupted by the death blow.
V. Witches’ Sabbath: He dreams he is at an eerie gathering of horrible spirits, sorcerers and monsters who have come to attend his funeral. There are strange cries, groans, shouts and laughter. His beloved has been transformed into one of the revelers; a raucous clarinet plays the ideé fixe as a grotesque parody. She is gleefully welcomed and joins the infernal orgy. Funeral bells toll; low brass and bassoons play a parody of the “Dies Irae” from the mass of the dead. The witches begin their round-dance, heralded by different instrument choirs. The witches’ dance and the Dies Irae come together in a delirious finale, bringing this “fantastic symphony” to an end.
For Berlioz, the story did not end there. In 1832 he finally met Harriet Smithson – and married her a year later.
This enchanting duet is from Delibes’s famous 1883 opera. It is sung by Lakmé, the daughter of a Brahmin priest, and her servant Mallika, as they gather fragrant flowers by the river.
Jennifer Higdon’s Viola Concerto was jointly commissioned by the Library of Congress, the Nashville Symphony, the Curtis Institute of Music, and the Aspen Music Festival. It premiered March 7, 2015 at the Thomas Jefferson Building in Washington, D.C., with conductor Robert Spano leading violist Roberto Díaz (playing a Stradivarius viola) and the Curtis Chamber Orchestra. The work won the 2018 Grammy Award for Best Classical Contemporary Composition.
Usually embedded in the orchestra, the viola is pitched between the violin and cello. In the Viola Concerto it takes center stage. Higdon made a concerted effort to make her concerto very “up” and lively, as these are qualities not normally associated with the viola and not present in many other viola concertos. Weaving virtuosic lines into the entire orchestra, she also explores the viola’s lower ranges, darker colors, and the best speeds to take the instrument. Higdon made a conscious effort to write something that, in her own words, “sounded really American,” as the concerto was commissioned by several American institutions.
Listen in the First Movement for the low, lyrical melodies in the solo viola, ethereal textures in the orchestra, and dialogues with orchestra members, including clarinet and violin. In the Second Movement, the orchestra is in “perpetual motion” reminiscent of Barber (another American composer, famous for his Violin Concerto.) The orchestra zigs and zags in dotted, jazzy, darting lines, and the percussionist has an especially virtuosic part, playing many different instruments. Movement 3 opens with a plaintive brass chorale, but returns to the themes of the second movement. Listen for a “trio” between the solo viola and principal violin and cello. After hearing this concerto, you’ll know that the viola isn’t just “a big violin!”
