Baroque & Beyond
March 26, 2011, 7:30 p.m.
Coronado Theatre

PROGRAM NOTES
By Steven Ledbetter

ANTONIO VIVALDI

Concerto in D major for Violin, Two Oboes, Two Horns, Strings and Continuo RV562

Antonio Vivaldi was born in Venice on March 4, 1678, and died in Vienna in July (buried July 28), 1741. The exact dates of the composition of this Concerto are unknown. There is some connection with his violin concerto in D, RV 208 (see below), which was published in 1711. This is one of the relatively rare concertos for a number of mixed instrument,. The score calls for solo violin, two oboes, two horns, strings, and continuo. Duration is about 16 minutes.

For a time in the eighteenth century, Antonio Vivaldi was the most famous and influential composer of the day, largely on the strength of his many hundreds of concertos, which established a style and a flexible form that other composers used for decades. But, by the time of his death his work was beginning to fall into oblivion. His notoriety began to reemerge almost by accident as a by‑product of nineteenth century research into Bach. The discovery that J.S. Bach had taken Vivaldi seriously enough to copy out entire works and to rework some of his violin concertos for keyboard and orchestra caused a generation of late nineteenth-century scholars to view Vivaldi in a more respectful light.

The majority of Vivaldi’s concertos are for a solo instrument accompanied by strings and continuo, but sometimes he added featured wind parts to enrich the sound of the work. Very little is known about this piece, which was not preserved in its complete form in Vivaldi’s own personal library of his works; only the first 16 measures of the second violin part are there. Fortunately, a complete copy was preserved in Dresden. It bears a heading, “for the solemnity of St. Lawrence,” which sometimes gives a clue to the purpose of the music—but in this case, the heading seems actually to be connected to another piece in the manuscript where this one was copied. Additionally, the elaborately brilliant cadenza for the solo violin is almost identical to the one in a Concerto for violin in D, RV 208, which Vivaldi published as Opus 7, No. 11, in 1711—but that is no guarantee of the date for this piece, as he could have reused that cadenza at any time in the last 30 years of his life. No further information is available about the possible connection of these two pieces.

Regardless of the details, one can take delight in the colors of the flute, oboes, and horns, as Vivaldi unfolds his energetic themes and allows the winds to produce rich and rare sonorities of great vigor. The first and last movements employ the whole ensemble,  while the slow middle movement gives the wind instruments—especially the horns—a chance to rest. The finale highlights the previously mentioned violin cadenza from RV 208.

CLAUDE BOLLING

Suite for Jazz Trio and Chamber Orchestra

Claude Bolling was born in Cannes, France, on April 10, 1930. He composed the Suite for Jazz Trio and Chamber Orchestra in 1983. Duration for the three movements performed this evening is about 27 minutes.

Claude Bolling showed his prodigious talent as a pianist early on, in studies at the Nice Conservatory and later in Paris. He chose jazz as his specialty and by his early teens he was already performing with leading jazz performers like Lionel Hampton and Roy Eldridge. As any serious student of the piano will naturally study the works of J.S. Bach, this may have inspired Bolling’s realization that the standard jazz trio (piano, bass, drums) bore a marked similarity to the basso continuo that was an essential part of Baroque music. This continuously supportive small ensemble (most commonly harpsichord and cello) provides the bass line and a rhythmic accompaniment to the music.

Bolling began writing original jazz works for solo instruments (such as the flute of his friend Jean-Pierre Rampal) with the accompaniment of this modern type of “continuo.” He created tunes in a distinctly Baroque style which, once established, would continue to unfold with further development in a consciously jazzy manner. This fusion of old and new styles became very popular, enhanced by Bolling’s clever titles. One such work, Toot Suite, puns on the French toute suite (meaning “at once” or “immediately”) with the musical term “suite” for a series of musical numbers and, in this case, the trumpet, an instrument that “toots.”

The Suite for Jazz Trio and Chamber Orchestra is one of the most successful of Bolling’s works in this style. Here he recreates in jazz terms the Baroque concerto grosso, with a larger ensemble arrayed against a smaller one.  The movements of the suite have French titles that suggest mood and character just as the popular harpsichord pieces of the Baroque era often did. The titles give a perfect indication of the nature of each movement. The movements this evening include “graceful,” “serene,” and “brilliant.”

WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART

Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K.550

Joannes Chrisostomus Wolfgang Gottlieb Mozart was born in Salzburg, Austria, on January 27, 1756 and died in Vienna on December 5, 1791. His last three symphonies, K. 543, 550, and 551, were all composed during the summer of 1788. Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K.550, was completed on July 25, 1788. The date of the first performance is  unknown. The score originally called for flute, two each of oboes, bassoons, and horns, plus strings. Later Mozart rewrote the two oboe parts for two each of oboes and clarinets, and it is the version with clarinets that will be heard at these performances. Duration is about 28 minutes.

One of the greatest miracles in the history of music is Mozart’s achievement in the summer of 1788, composing his last three symphonies all in the space of six weeks. The sheer speed is daunting; even more impressive is the striking variety between the three works, each of which has a character and mood all its own. The middle work, in G minor, was completed on July 25. We have no record that any of these symphonies was ever performed in Mozart’s lifetime, though he is unlikely to have composed something as elaborate as a symphony (much less three of them) purely “on spec.” He must have anticipated some concert series on which they would be heard.

By June 1788, Mozart’s fortunes had entered into the long decline that culminated in his death at age thirty-five, three-and-a-half years later. He could never stop spending money faster than he earned it, and when the Viennese public found other novelties for amusement, Mozart’s star began to fall. During this summer he composed some educational pieces, which could serve students well, and some easy pieces that might be expected to have a good sale when published—practical ways of earning money. Yet, the composition of three whole symphonies was an unlikely solution to his money problems, unless he had some plan of using them in a practical way. One of his letters refers to “concerts in the Casino” from which he hoped to obtain subscription money in order to repay his debts. But as far as we know, the concerts never took place, and Mozart probably never heard these three great contributions to the symphonic repertory performed.

The G-minor symphony was destined to become his most famous. It was one of the few Mozart symphonies to remain in the repertory throughout the Romantic era, thanks largely to its “romantic” use of the minor mode, though no less perceptive a critic than Robert Schumann regarded the symphony merely as a work of grace and charm. Schumann’s view strikingly illustrates the way stylistic change—in particular the extremes of romantic expression—made the great achievements of the preceding generation seem emotionally limited. Only in the last half century has the work become fully appreciated in the expressive variety, ambiguity, and power contained in a polished and precise musical language.

Yet, that polish conceals an element of the demonic. The opening is rare among classical symphonies—a hushed rustling, growing out of silence. A symphony performance is a public event, and in Mozart’s day it was customary to begin with a loud chord played with a downbow in all the strings. This got the work off to a solid start (the performances were conductorless), established the home key in no uncertain terms, and possibly shushed the audience.

But in Symphony No. 40 we are instantly in the middle of things before we realize it. The theme emphasizes an expressive falling semitone, an age-old expression of yearning; and the melody and accompaniment raise questions about where the beat really falls in the phrase. Modulation begins already after the first emphatic cadence, and we soon reach the second theme in the relative major. Here one must agree with Schumann: one cannot dispute the grace of the new theme, with its passing chromatic tones, which prove to have consequences later. The ambiguity of phrasing, so important in this movement, is splendidly illustrated in the return to the main theme at the recapitulation. The violins are already playing the long upbeat to the opening phrase during the last two measures of the development, while the winds are winding down to the cadence. The continued power of the minor mode over the expressive forces of the symphony becomes clear in the recapitulation when the second theme, instead of returning in the major, now arrives in the minor, further darkening the mood.

The slow movement is in the related major key of E-flat, but is filled with passing chromatic figures and melodic sighs, linking it to the expressive world of the first movement. Moreover, it is cast as a full sonata-form movement, which lends it greater weight in the work. The development section remains tense in its harmonic adventures before returning to the home key for the recapitulation. The Menuetto, ostensibly a dance genre, is much too severe to suggest dancing at all; only the contrasting Trio, in the major mode, offers a brief respite from the prevailing chromatic character.

The last movement, like the first, remains in G minor at the close, a very rare case in the eighteenth century, in which the minor was regarded as unstable and generally “softened” at the very end of works. Even with finales that begin in the minor, the major almost always emerges in the coda. But Mozart reiterates the minor mode throughout, building the development almost entirely out of the movement’s opening figure (which arpeggiates the minor triad), leading still further into daring harmonic realms before whirling home to the recapitulation. Here, as in the first movement, the second theme appeared in the major during the exposition, but its return at the recapitulation—now in G minor—signals that there is no respite. Grace and charm (as Schumann noted) are indeed present, but Mozart offers obsessive energy and passion, too.

© Steven Ledbetter  (www.stevenledbetter.com)