D’Rivera’s first teacher was his father, a well-connected classical saxophonist and music educator, who brought him up on recordings by Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman. No doubt this is where Paquito first began to understand jazz and improvisation. But perhaps the youngster’s greatest tutelage came from sitting in the orchestra pit along with his father in Havana’s lavish, notorious and jazz-rich Tropicana Club, where he recalls very memorable evenings sitting close by and watching many of the jazz greats who visited there. Still, he always remained grounded in the Classical music of composers like Bach, Mozart and Chopin – music that still informs his compositions to this day.
D’Rivera soon became one of Cuba’s musical wonders, active in both classical and Latin jazz music, and both a composer and performer on clarinet and sax. However, he eventually realized that he would never be able to flourish in Cuba’s anti-jazz ideology (Castro insisted jazz was “imperialist poison”), so in 1980 he defected to the United States. His international reputation has soared since then. He has won 14 Grammy Awards for both performance and composition and has made over 30 recordings. But, as a boisterous yet generous soul, he is most proud for being known – in the words of the National Endowment for the Arts – as “the consummate multinational ambassador, creating and promoting a cross-culture of music that moves effortlessly among jazz, Latin, and Mozart.”
Invitación al danza was composed in 2008 and came into prominence on a recording with Yo Yo Ma (“Songs of Joy and Peace,” 2008). This is considered one of D’Rivera’s Classical works, and with his love for Classical music he gave it the same title as a famous work by Carl Maria von Weber (1786 – 1826). But one immediately realizes the work’s extraordinary fusion of styles, from Classical to Jazzy riffs and improvisation, to even a tip of the hat to early Rock-n-roll (listen for the echoes of Louie, Louie by The Kingsmen). Originally written for clarinet, cello and piano, Invitación has invited and inspired all kinds of arrangements. In this case, the French horn takes the place of the cello. Invitación dances easily from gentle swaying to joyful smiling, and slide-steps between some lovely ballroom dancing to downright foot stomping and arm jangling. Invitación al danza is infectiously tuneful and fun, and makes good on its invitation.
Friedrich Wilhelm Voigt
(Born in Koblenz, Germany in 1833; died in Bernburg, Germany in 1894)
Nocturne for Clarinet, Horn, and Piano, Op.75
Voigt followed his father’s vocation of being a military musician after completing his musical studies in Berlin. He rose quickly through the ranks and by 1857, at the young age of 24, became the conductor of the high profile First Guard Regiment in Potsdam, a post in which he served for 30 years. He became well known for his compositions for military bands and ensembles, and as a conductor and music educator. In 1870, in his role as military conductor, Voigt found himself marching to Paris in the Franco-Prussian War, composing and performing music as necessary for any moment, from celebratory evenings when Kaiser Wilhelm visited in the field, to funeral music for fellow soldiers. But there was more to do than perform: Voigt and his military musicians often were tasked with, among other things, burying the fallen. His diaries describe some horrid scenes of death. Finally, in 1871, Voigt arrived in a devastated, occupied Paris now under Prussian rule. Voigt’s role in Paris was to provide music for victorious Prussians and defeated French alike. Performing much of his own military music along with other classics, he was proud, but moreover astonished, when his French audiences applauded and thanked him for his musical craft. Voigt wrote home to his wife “Yes, music is a fine art; it connects the souls of men, and this effect is not granted even to language.”
In 1885, long after those extraordinary times, Voigt had returned to Germany and composed his endearing Nocturne. It’s tempting to imagine this work as a tender musical memorial to those lost Prussians and Frenchmen, but whatever his inspiration, the piece has been loved for generations since. The Nocturne has the air of a quiet operatic duet between two old friends, reminiscing in nostalgia, with an edge of sadness lacing their song, sometimes a flight of fancy from the clarinet, and a brief recitative-like passage mid-way through. The piece ends with both instruments singing the opening phrase in unison above some lovely pianistic filigree, before closing in gentle contemplation. All in all, it is a tuneful, surprisingly enchanting gem, a pacific counterpoint to a military musician’s life work.
Francis Poulenc
(Born in Paris in 1899; died in Paris in 1963)
Trio (for oboe, bassoon and piano), Op. 43
1. Lento – Presto
2. Andante con moto
3. Rondo. Très vif
At the turn of the 20th Century, Paris was an exciting tumult of new and adventurous artistic ideals. The Parisian salon was the place to be for anyone who was someone, a place where artists and thinkers came to discuss conquering – or at least profoundly changing – the world. Out of this intoxicating brew came a group of musicians called “Les Six” (also known as the “French Six”). Francis Poulenc, a frequent visitor to the salon, rather unwittingly found himself to be part of this group. The group’s general goal, formulated by its founders (first the composer Erik Satie and then the author Jean Cocteau) was to write unabashedly French music. Poulenc himself was mainly self-taught and had an innate and immense talent for music; he had no conservatoire trappings and was urbanely Parisian in the best sense, and he thus embodied the group’s ideals perfectly. As the writer Jean Roy, a chronicler of the “Les Six,” said:
“Francis Poulenc improvised, invented, disregarded conventions …. He was daring, but not provocative. … he showed himself for what he was, with a frankness which is rare, … drawing from a tremendous fund of knowledge that included the fine arts, literature and the music of his predecessors. … His music expresses the way he looked at things… sincerity… his own way of hoping, of praying, of showing confidence.”
From this sense of freshness came Poulenc’s first great chamber work in 1926: his Trio for Oboe, Bassoon and Piano, written when he was 27 years old. The work is equal parts silly, lively, beautifully melodic, and fun. Poulenc admitted that parts of his Trio were based, structurally and thematically, on the music of his forbearers – Haydn, Beethoven and Saint-Saens – but in Poulenc’s hands these echoes only add to the delight of the music. Regarding his musical lineage, he wittily remarked that he “wouldn’t like to be thought ‘born of an unknown father.'” What the listener hears in the Trio is anything but a pastiche of the past; instead, this is a splendidly lyrical and playful piece that features each instrument with an uncanny notion of their interplay. The Trio has become one of Poulenc’s most adored works, and rightly so. It is a superb example of the composer’s joyful music-making, and of his own harmonic and lyrical inventiveness.
Ludwig van Beethoven
(Born in Bonn in 1770; died in Vienna in 1827)
Piano Quintet in E-flat Major, Op. 16
1. Grave – Allegro ma non troppo
2. Andante cantabile
3. Rondo: Allegro ma non troppo
Life was a jolly affair for Beethoven when he moved to Vienna from Bonn in 1792. He was known to be fiery, but he was also a congenial socialite. And as a free-spirited youth, he was taking Vienna by storm as a “wild” piano virtuoso and magnificent improviser. However, he also had an extraordinary composing talent and needed to make it known.
Before tackling the symphonic genre, Beethoven started with a form that bridged the chamber-symphonic barrier: the Piano Quintet. Well acquainted with Mozart’s works, Beethoven used Mozart’s masterful Quintet for Piano and Winds in E-flat Major, K. 452 (1784) as a model for his own Quintet that featured a piano, clarinet, oboe, bassoon and horn. Beethoven completed this work in 1797 but he withheld its publication until 1801 and in the meantime also produced a reworked version that took the form of a Quartet for three strings and piano – a clear sign that he was trying to show off his abilities by demonstrating his range as a composer.
The Quintet is a very early Beethoven, and very “Classical” in sound, when compared to his later works. But it is no less Beethoven in spirit, clearly foreshadowing his boldness and compositional cleverness. The very somber and slow Grave opening is as much a statement to the world about the seriousness of Beethoven’s compositional intentions as it is a musical introduction. Soon after the Allegro proper begins, one is reminded of Beethoven’s abiding love for piano – indeed, this Quintet is much like a mini-piano concerto. But even in this particularly early work, Beethoven shows uncanny prowess in his writing for the winds: each instrument is featured especially well through a great deal of musical material, and each is given many moments to shine. One great example is just near the end of the first movement when Beethoven asks the horn to navigate some treacherous arpeggios.
The second movement is rightly titled cantabile (singing), with some meltingly song-like moments for every player, and it seems that it is here where Beethoven truly begins to find his own voice in this great, early masterpiece. The third movement finale is leisurely-brisk and sunny-bright, even allowing for a brief piano cadenza near its end. It is said that at the Quintet’s early performances, the “wild” Beethoven manned the piano himself and often took some extended liberties with this cadenza – to his great delight, though peeving his wind players.
https://www.friendswv.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FOM_logo_340x156-300x138.jpg00Jen Rolstonhttps://www.friendswv.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FOM_logo_340x156-300x138.jpgJen Rolston2017-04-30 10:48:532017-05-18 10:51:02Two Rivers Piano and Wind Ensemble: April 29, 2017
2. Am Gesteine rauscht die Flut (“Against the stones the stream rushes”)
3. O die Frauen (“Oh, women”)
4. Wie des Abends schöne Röte (“Like the evening’s lovely red”)
5. Die grüne Hopfenranke (“The green hop’s vine”)
6. Ein kleiner, hübscher Vogel (“A small, pretty bird”)
7. Wohl schön bewandt war es (“Quite fair and contented”)
8. Wenn so lind dein Auge mir (“When your eyes look at me”)
9. Am Donaustrande (“On the banks of the Danube”)
10. O wie sanft die Quelle (“Oh how gently the stream”)
11. Nein, es ist nicht auszukommen (“No, there’s just no getting along”)
12. Schlosser auf, und mache Schlösser (“Locksmith, get up and make your locks”)
13. Vögelein durchrauscht die Luft (“The little bird rushes through the air”)
14. Sieh, wie ist die Welle klar (“See how clear the waves are”)
15. Nachtigall, sie singt so schön (“The nightingale, it sings so beautifully”)
16. Ein dunkeler Schacht ist Liebe (“Love is a dark shaft”)
17. Nicht wandle, mein Licht (“Do not wander, my light”)
18. Es bebet das Gesträuche (“The bushes are trembling”)
In the first years after Brahms settled in Vienna, he quickly became appreciative of a new and very Viennese (and European bourgeois) musical fashion – Hausmusik. No longer was music just for the very rich, but indeed, the rise of a healthy middle class made music a household necessity. Young ladies, in order to be at all eligible for marriage, needed to know how to read music, sing and play the piano. But music in the house wasn’t just for young ladies. All manner of parlor works were written as well as re-arranged from larger works like symphonies, solely for the enjoyment of music lovers in their homes. For many a composer it was a cash cow. Brahms, not above the need for money, discreetly cashed in on this Hausmusik phenomenon with the young lady singer-pianist in mind, first and famously with his Hungarian Dances (1869), and then in the same year with his delightful Liebeslieder walzen (of which, over a few years, he composed several sets, Op. 52 being essentially his first).
Brahms’s Liebeslieder walzen (Love song waltzes) were inspired during a project of editing a batch of Schubert’s works, several groups of landlers, which are the waltzes especially loved by the Viennese. Also a model were the Spanische Liebeslieder (1849) by Schumann, Brahms’s fraternal mentor. No less an influence, too, were the delightful waltzes by Johann Strauss II (the Viennese “Waltz King”), which Brahms appreciated for their perfect form and delicious tunefulness. It’s often suggested that Brahms’s Love song waltzes were intended as a musical flirtation for Julie Schumann, the daughter of Robert and Clara Schumann. But as always, Brahms was much too discreet to have made this a public affair. What matters is that the waltzes are enchanting. As Brahms’s biographer Jan Swafford calls them, these are musical “Schlagsahne” (whipped cream).
The 18 waltzes are indeed confections, but they are certainly not trifles. They assume the ballroom dress of society waltzes, but Brahms doesn’t spare his genius on them. Even as early as the first waltz, the main theme is eventually turned upside down. Especially delightful are the rich harmonies and contrasts that appear in numbers 5, 6 and 7. A lovely homage to Strauss’s “The Beautiful Danube” is undeniable in number 9. Throughout, Brahms’s inventiveness for both tunefulness and sophisticated compositional craftsmanship make these love songs little wonders. Brahms had originally written them as “one-offs” – single sheet works for the parlor, for piano (four hands) and varying small groups of singers. The lyrics came from a large set of poetic translations from various cultures by the philosopher and poet Georg Friedrich Daumer (1800 – 1875). The songs range from giddy young love to broken heartache, but they are all quite lighthearted. Brahms, too, keeps the melodic themes light but infuses them with his typical soulfulness. The waltzes were immediately adored, and brought Brahms a sure amount of early fame and fortune; they have remained a cherished part of the chamber music repertoire. This arrangement for strings was first transcribed by Friedrich Hermann in 1889 and it has been loved ever since. In any arrangement, these love songs’ beauties are rich and genuine Brahms.
Edward Elgar
(Born in Lower Broadheath, England in 1857; died in Worcester, England in 1934)
Serenade in E-minor for String Orchestra, Op. 20
1. Allegro placevole
2. Larghetto
3. Allegretto
Elgar was the quintessential underdog, and as such, his masterpieces make us all the more glad that he finally achieved his rightful praise. He was a self-taught composer, learning his craft by borrowing books on counterpoint and harmony from the library in his small hometown of Broadheath. He was an accomplished violinist but also played the organ and bassoon and viola (and other instruments), and it was upon these instruments that he relied to make a living for many years as a private music teacher. He also picked up conducting and freelanced as a conductor in some of the most obscure places (such as the County and City Pauper Lunatic Asylum) for many, many years. His beloved wife, Alice, was his greatest champion and brought Elgar through some severe bouts of low self-esteem and depression. Had it not been for her constant support, Elgar may have never persevered to write some of Western music’s most beloved pieces.
His lovely Serenade was written in 1892 and is Elgar’s earliest piece to eventually become well known, although it took another six-and-a-half years for this now middle-aged British musician to find any fame as a composer with his Enigma Variations (1899). The Serenade was written “in the musical trenches,” as Elgar crafted out a patchwork living by teaching, performing and conducting. He also credited some of the piece’s material to his wife, Alice, by marking in the score in several places “Braut” (his German nickname for her, meaning “bride”). The success of his Enigma Variations, his Violin Concerto and other masterpieces eventually, and finally, landed him fame and security, But it was this Serenade that he always referred to as his favorite piece, and any listener will quickly understand his devotion. Here is Elgar at his lyrical best and at the very beginning of a long line of beautifully elegiac masterpieces for which he would become famous.
The first movement is marked a curious “placevole” which means “pleasing.” Indeed, its quietly propelling main rhythm and the rising and falling melody is pleasantly nostalgic and cheery – so wonderfully British. The middle movement is romantically and harmonically rich, capturing a kind of enlightened melancholy that only Elgar seemed to be able to conjure. The third movement rounds out the Serenade with delicate charm, perfectly moving from the deep beauty of the middle movement into a musing on the work’s placevole beginning, and lastly, closing in gentle contentment. Elgar was one of the first composers to seriously use the beginning technologies of sound recording, and fittingly, in 1933 a year before his death, he made a recording which included his beloved Serenade.
Ney Rosauro
(Born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in 1952)
Marimba Concerto No. 1, Op. 12
1. Saudação (Greetings)
2. Lamento (Lament)
3. Dança (Dance)
4. Despedida (Farewell)
According to his own website, Ney Rosauro “… is recognized as one of the most original and dynamic symphonic percussionists and composers today.” He studied in Brazil, Germany and Florida, and in his professional career has performed the world over as both a marimba virtuoso and as a timpanist/percussionist, along with composing over 100 works. He became especially recognized, however, with his wonderful Marimba Concerto No. 1 (1987) when another famous percussionist, Evelyn Glennie, recorded it with the London Symphony Orchestra in 1990. Since then, this Concerto has become probably the most widely performed marimba concerto in the world.
The marimba is a tuned percussion instrument with tubes underneath the pitched bars to enhance resonance. It became a prominent solo instrument in the late 1970’s when composers began recognizing its exceptional versatility – from its ability to sound like an organ with sustained, humming chords, the fact that it could be played like a piano with both melody and harmony, concurrently, as well as its potential for complex rhythms and extended range of notes (typically 4-1/3 octaves). All of this became especially possible with the introduction of playing with four (and occasionally more) mallets simultaneously. Rosauro, though, was the one of the first composers to really exploit the marimba’s four-mallet capabilities in a symphonic concerto form. His Concerto No. 1 does this marvelously and uses all the instrument’s possibilities superbly, taking care to not only showcase the soloist with virtuosic leaps from one end of the large instrument to the other and dazzling mallet work, but to showcase the instrument’s beauty. The Concerto was begun as a Master’s thesis while Rosauro was studying in Germany. In that year, his son Marcelo was born, and it’s fitting, with the Concerto’s energy and life-affirmingness, that Rosauro dedicated it to his newborn son.
https://www.friendswv.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FOM_logo_340x156-300x138.jpg00Jen Rolstonhttps://www.friendswv.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FOM_logo_340x156-300x138.jpgJen Rolston2017-03-27 14:47:472017-05-18 10:51:35Songs and Dances of Love: March 25, 2017
(Born in Salzburg in 1756; died in Vienna in 1791)
No composer has contributed so many works of genius, in so many genres of music, as Mozart: sacred, chamber, concerti, orchestral and opera. His output is extraordinary, not only because of its quantity and consistently high quality, but also because of his uncanny ability to assimilate the styles of his time and add his own innovations. It sounds cliché to say that Mozart approached something of a superhuman quality, but studying his music always provides this same awed assessment. No genre stands out quite as much as Mozart’s operas in style assimilation, masterwork and innovation.
Opera in Mozart’s Vienna was a curiously Italian affair. Opera had essentially “grown up” in Italy and Italians had set the standards. But the popular style was Italian Opera buffa – light-hearted and frivolous dramatic works. Viennese sentiment was beginning to favor German-language opera but German operas hadn’t made much headway in quality. Nonetheless, as Mozart told his father in 1778, he first began with “Italian, not German; seria, not buffa.” Thus commenced his lifelong adaptations in the field of opera, beginning with the Italian model for opera seria “serious themed,” moving to the German model of the singspiel (“singing play”), where dialogue replaces the Italian recitative, creating a delicious synthesis of these models.
All of this, and Mozart’s musical genius, created an opus of operas that are nearly all considered masterpieces. Mozart brought a rather stodgy genre that he inherited from the Italians into a modern day kind of storytelling, with characters that were more real and current, and with music that matched the complicated psychological underpinnings of his characters.
Overture to Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro)
This was the first of three operas that Mozart wrote in collaboration with the librettist Lorenzo da Ponte. This collaboration shines as a marriage of geniuses in Western music; it produced Le nozze di Figaro (1786), Don Giovanni (1787) and Così fan tutte (1790), all of which are considered the pinnacle of their Classical genre. Many regard Le nozze as the greatest Opera buffa ever written.
Created near the peak of his career, Le nozze di Figaro is one of Mozart’s finest scores. In it, his ability to make music mirror the psychological essence of the scene, the story and the characters is nearly unrivaled. The Overture is a self-contained work – meaning it contains essentially little of the themes from the opera proper and ends without fading into the first scene. It’s a marvel of fleetness. The winds and strings open with a frenetic but quiet, whirling motive that sets the tone for the opera to come – fast-paced and filled with intrigue and humor. The whirling is suddenly interrupted by a full tutti of the orchestra, bright and shining and loud, with trumpets and timpani that tells us the opera will bring a series of surprises and comic moments. The energy never lets up until the last, glorious bar.
Aria: “Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben” from the Opera Zaide
Zaide was begun in 1779-80 by Mozart in the off chance that this German language singspiel (“singing play”) might be accepted in Austrian Emperor Joseph II’s new opera company that was devoted to German opera. Mozart’s working title was Das Serail, but the Third Act and Overture were left unfinished as he moved on to his first commissioned opera, Idomeneo. Decades after Mozart’s death, the unfinished opera was prepared for production in 1830 and given the title it’s come to be known by: Zaide.
Having found a librettist in Johann Schachtner, Mozart’s Zaide took up the popular theme of Turkish pirates on the prowl in the Mediterranean, seizing loot and Christian slaves. Zaide is the heroine Christian slave who falls in love with another slave, Gomatz. The Turkish Sultan is enraged because of his own affections for Zaide, but by the end of Act II, Zaide chooses a free life with Gomatz.
“Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben” (“Rest gently, my dearest life (Beloved)”) appears in Act I when Zaide first discovers Gomatz, asleep under a tree. She instantly falls in love, and leaves him her portrait, jewels, money and a note beseeching him to meet her later in that same spot. She then sings this beautiful aria to the would-be lover, telling him to sleep until he awakes with happiness. It’s one of Mozart’s most beautiful arias and is especially remarkable given that this is such an early foray for him into full opera writing.
German Lyrics
Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben,
schlafe, bis dein Glück erwacht;
da, mein Bild will ich dir geben,
schau, wie freundlich es dir lacht:
Ihr süssen Träume, wiegt ihn ein,
und lasset seinem Wunsch am Ende
die wollustreichen Gegenstände
zu reifer Wirklichkeit gedeihn
English translation
Rest peacefully, my beloved, Sleep until happiness dawns, My portrait I give you, See, how kindly it smiles upon you. Sweet dreams rock him to sleep, And Grant his wish at last, That the things of which he dreams May ripen into reality.
Aria: “Ach, ich fuhl’s” from Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) K. 620
The Magic Flute premiered in 1791. It is Mozart’s last opera, and in so many ways his crowning achievement in the genre. All of this great composer’s talents are on display in this masterpiece. The story takes place in Egypt, sometime around 1300 BC, and centers upon Tamino, a handsome young prince on a quest to rescue the daughter of the evil Queen of the Night, the lovely Pamina, so he can marry her. Tamino and his comic side-kick, Papageno, are given a Magic Flute and a set of magic Bells to ward off evil. They find Pamina in the care of Sarasato, a high priest, and to their surprise discover that Sarasato is actually protecting Pamina from her mother. Seeing Tamino’s purity, Sarasato agrees to let him and Pamina marry, but only after a set of trials to test his and Papageno’s mettle and purity. Adventures succeeded, Sarasato then celebrates the marriage of Tamino to Pamina, and banishes the evil Queen and her minions.
Mozart’s score sparkles with the magic and genius of a master at play. The music is appreciable on many levels, from giddy, simple tunes to wonderfully sophisticated moments of complex counterpoint – the whole tied together with exquisite melodies. One such beautiful aria is Pamina’s aria from Act Two, “Ach, ich fuhl’s (Ah, I feel it).” Tamino has sworn a Vow of Silence as part of Sarasato’s tests of mettle, and Pamina is despairingly certain that their love is lost. The aria is heart-wrenchingly beautiful, the soprano singing over an exquisite and sophisticated chord scheme in the orchestra, sounding much like a movement from a requiem, spare, somber. It’s one of Mozart’s most remarkably heartfelt songs, with the soprano’s pathos soaring into the spirit realms.
German Text
Ach, ich fühl’s, es ist verschwunden,
Ewig hin der Liebe Glück!
Nimmer kommt ihr Wonnestunde
Meinem Herzen mehr zurück!
Sieh’, Tamino, diese Tränen,
Fließen, Trauter, dir allein!
Fühlst du nicht der Liebe Sehnen,
So wird Ruh’ im Tode sein!
English Translation
Oh, I feel that it is gone,
forever gone – the happiness of love!
No more come the hours of joy
to my heart!
See, Tamino, these tears
flow, dearest, for you alone!
Do you not feel my love and longing?
I’ll only find peace in death.
Overture to Così fan tutte
The opera is one of Mozart’s great masterworks, assimilating the buffa aspects of the popular Italian opera together with serious (Opera seria) aspects, giving the drama and the music a greater depth. Mozart’s music is fun and mirthful as it often needs to be with the comic storyline, but it also captures the intrigue and emotions of the main characters in an uncanny way. One of Mozart’s lasting influences on opera was the way he molded the music to make the characters feel as real as life. This is especially true in Cosi fan tutte.
The title translates roughly, “Women are like that”, referring to a belief that all women will eventually be unfaithful. Set in Naples, two young officers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, brag about the beauty and faithfulness of their sweethearts, sisters Fiordiligi and Dorabella. However, their older friend, Don Alfonzo, wagers that the two sisters can be found to be unfaithful. A convoluted and comic set of frauds and mistruths and disguises are set into motion. In the end, all is forgiven.
The Overture has retained its own staying power. It’s a gallant and joyful speed-ride. Unlike many overtures, however, it contains virtually no melodic material from the opera, but rather, new music used to set the tone. Among its many delights, there is an abundance of woodwind work, specifically the interplay between oboe and flute which is a musical representation of two sweethearts sharing the same heart-music. In all, the Overture is a lightning quick romp of merriment.
Aria: “Come scoglio” from Così fan tutte
Così fan tutte has made listeners both delighted and yet troubled. Of course this was all by design, and that may be why the depth of both Mozart’s musical score and da Ponte’s libretto make this arguably Mozart’s greatest achievement in opera. One splendid example of this bi-polar, humorous, and extraordinary music is “Come scoglio” (“Like a rock”) in Act I sung by Fiordiligi, Ferrando’s lover. Don Alphonso has arranged for Fiordiligi and Dorabella to believe that Ferrando and Guglielmo have been called off to war suddenly. Then, dressed in disguise as two “Albanians,” Ferrando and Guglielmo return and begin wooing the other’s sweetheart. Fiordiligi, at least initially, will have nothing of it, and crows about it.
Mozart begins the aria with an almost martial call to arms – a very peacocking moment. Then comes a delightful lyrical section that is almost inane, yet so charming that it keeps us smiling. The aria switches between these two types of music with a kind of over-the-top drama. It’s a great example of the type of opera-stopping solos that permeated 18th Century opera, but the aria is simultaneously parodying them. With this brilliantly uncanny mix of bravura with lyrical charm, Mozart’s music can’t quite allow you to believe Fiordiligi’s protestations, even while she must accomplish some extremely difficult musical passages: large interval leaps, and drops and runs up and down a two-octave range. “Come scoglio” is definitely one of Mozart’s greatest hits.
Italian text
Come scoglio immoto resta
Contro i venti e la tempesta,
Così ognor quest’alma è forte
Nella fede e nell’amor.
Con noi nacque quella face
Che ci piace, e ci consola,
E potrà la morte sola
Far che cangi affetto il cor.
Rispettate, anime ingrate,
Quest’esempio di costanza;
E una barbara speranza
Non vi renda audaci ancor!
English translation
Like a rock standing impervious
To winds and tempest,
So stands my heart ever strong
In faith and love.
Between us we have kindled
A flame which warms, and consoles us,
And death alone could
Change my heart’s devotion.
Respect this example
Of constancy, you abject creatures,
And do not let a base hope
Make you so rash again!
Aria: “Dove sono” from Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro)
Written near the peak of his career, Le nozze di Figaro is naturally one of Mozart’s finest scores – many consider it to be the finest Opera buffa ever written. And his ability to make music mirror the psychological essence of the scene, the story, and the characters is nearly unrivaled. One of the opera’s most beautiful and thoughtful moments occurs in Act III with the Countess’s aria “Dove sono” (“Where are they?). Here the Countess is planning to catch her husband, the Count, red-handed in faithlessness with Susanna, and she’s employed Susanna to help trap him. But in a moment of quiet reflection, she wonders where the sweetness of their love has gone, how she could find herself in such a terrible state of lovelessness and humiliation. And yet, she still holds hope with a faintness as fragile as a spider web. The beauty of the music is deeply poignant, but Mozart goes a little further. He creates a magic moment, to capture the deep suffering of the Countess, by repeating the first section at almost a whisper. The psychological effect is disarming – even in the pathos of the Countess’s soul pain, a feeble hope for reconciliation is still distantly glimmering.
Italian text
Dove sono i bei momenti
Di dolcezza e di piacer?
Dove andaro i giuramenti
Di quel labbro menzogner?
Perchè mai, se in pianti e in pene
Per me tutto si cangiò,
La memoria di quel bene
Dal mio sen non trapassò?
Ah! se almen la mia costanza,
Nel languire amando ognor,
Mi portasse una speranza
Di cangiar l’ingrato cor!
English translation
Where are the lovely moments
Of sweetness and pleasure?
Where have the promises gone
That came from those lying lips?
Why, if all is changed for me
Into tears and pain,
Has the memory of that goodness
Not vanished from my breast?
Ah! If only, at least, my faithfulness,
Which still loves amidst its suffering,
Could bring me the hope
Of changing that ungrateful heart!
Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543
1. Adagio – Allegro
2. Andante con moto
3. Minuetto – Allegretto
4. Finale – Allegro
In the summer of 1788, in just under 10 weeks’ time, Mozart wrote three of Western Music’s greatest symphonies, Numbers 39, 40 and 41 – an almost superhuman accomplishment. Whereas the 40th and the 41st are overt in their pathos and exuberance, respectively, the 39th is the subtle delight of the trio. It is a testament to refinement, yet no less a masterpiece, and with its own daring.
The 39th sounds, on first hearing, almost textbook Classical music, but Mozart has in fact disguised its adventurousness in lightness. The slow introduction, grand and stately, promises something magnificent, but when the Allegro proper begins, the introduction’s theme continues onwards, now faster, now light and breezy. This is a bold kind of transitioning that Beethoven will take very seriously in his own symphonies. The second movement is again a model of sophistication, both in its light scoring and its handling of the deeper emotion that imbues it. On its surface, it comes to us as a tender song, but underneath is an undercurrent of pathos that is never allowed to become too passionate. In that, we might almost miss the exquisite harmonies that occur about two-thirds of the way through this lovely movement.
The Menuetto is one of Mozart’s most memorable works in that genre. Filled with grace and charm, it dances us lightly into gladness. Along the way we can especially hear Mozart’s love for the clarinet which was essentially a new instrument in his day. The Finale is an extraordinary whirling demon kept tightly cornered – flying notes dart in many directions and yet Mozart makes it sound as if it’s all just a little bit of boiling water. It’s truly a masterpiece in engaging minimalism. Brimming with fun and humor, the Finale ends in a deliciously clipped way for humor’s sake, as if the musicians turned the page at the end of a phrase and, alas, no more pages.
https://www.friendswv.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FOM_logo_340x156-300x138.jpg00Jen Rolstonhttps://www.friendswv.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FOM_logo_340x156-300x138.jpgJen Rolston2017-01-11 10:52:112017-01-11 10:54:51Mozart Magic: November 19, 2016
Two Rivers Piano and Wind Ensemble: April 29, 2017
Program NotesWindswept!
PROGRAM NOTES
Paquito D’Rivera
(Born in Havana, Cuba in 1948)
Invitación al danza (Invitation to dance)
D’Rivera’s first teacher was his father, a well-connected classical saxophonist and music educator, who brought him up on recordings by Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman. No doubt this is where Paquito first began to understand jazz and improvisation. But perhaps the youngster’s greatest tutelage came from sitting in the orchestra pit along with his father in Havana’s lavish, notorious and jazz-rich Tropicana Club, where he recalls very memorable evenings sitting close by and watching many of the jazz greats who visited there. Still, he always remained grounded in the Classical music of composers like Bach, Mozart and Chopin – music that still informs his compositions to this day.
D’Rivera soon became one of Cuba’s musical wonders, active in both classical and Latin jazz music, and both a composer and performer on clarinet and sax. However, he eventually realized that he would never be able to flourish in Cuba’s anti-jazz ideology (Castro insisted jazz was “imperialist poison”), so in 1980 he defected to the United States. His international reputation has soared since then. He has won 14 Grammy Awards for both performance and composition and has made over 30 recordings. But, as a boisterous yet generous soul, he is most proud for being known – in the words of the National Endowment for the Arts – as “the consummate multinational ambassador, creating and promoting a cross-culture of music that moves effortlessly among jazz, Latin, and Mozart.”
Invitación al danza was composed in 2008 and came into prominence on a recording with Yo Yo Ma (“Songs of Joy and Peace,” 2008). This is considered one of D’Rivera’s Classical works, and with his love for Classical music he gave it the same title as a famous work by Carl Maria von Weber (1786 – 1826). But one immediately realizes the work’s extraordinary fusion of styles, from Classical to Jazzy riffs and improvisation, to even a tip of the hat to early Rock-n-roll (listen for the echoes of Louie, Louie by The Kingsmen). Originally written for clarinet, cello and piano, Invitación has invited and inspired all kinds of arrangements. In this case, the French horn takes the place of the cello. Invitación dances easily from gentle swaying to joyful smiling, and slide-steps between some lovely ballroom dancing to downright foot stomping and arm jangling. Invitación al danza is infectiously tuneful and fun, and makes good on its invitation.
Friedrich Wilhelm Voigt
(Born in Koblenz, Germany in 1833; died in Bernburg, Germany in 1894)
Nocturne for Clarinet, Horn, and Piano, Op.75
Voigt followed his father’s vocation of being a military musician after completing his musical studies in Berlin. He rose quickly through the ranks and by 1857, at the young age of 24, became the conductor of the high profile First Guard Regiment in Potsdam, a post in which he served for 30 years. He became well known for his compositions for military bands and ensembles, and as a conductor and music educator. In 1870, in his role as military conductor, Voigt found himself marching to Paris in the Franco-Prussian War, composing and performing music as necessary for any moment, from celebratory evenings when Kaiser Wilhelm visited in the field, to funeral music for fellow soldiers. But there was more to do than perform: Voigt and his military musicians often were tasked with, among other things, burying the fallen. His diaries describe some horrid scenes of death. Finally, in 1871, Voigt arrived in a devastated, occupied Paris now under Prussian rule. Voigt’s role in Paris was to provide music for victorious Prussians and defeated French alike. Performing much of his own military music along with other classics, he was proud, but moreover astonished, when his French audiences applauded and thanked him for his musical craft. Voigt wrote home to his wife “Yes, music is a fine art; it connects the souls of men, and this effect is not granted even to language.”
In 1885, long after those extraordinary times, Voigt had returned to Germany and composed his endearing Nocturne. It’s tempting to imagine this work as a tender musical memorial to those lost Prussians and Frenchmen, but whatever his inspiration, the piece has been loved for generations since. The Nocturne has the air of a quiet operatic duet between two old friends, reminiscing in nostalgia, with an edge of sadness lacing their song, sometimes a flight of fancy from the clarinet, and a brief recitative-like passage mid-way through. The piece ends with both instruments singing the opening phrase in unison above some lovely pianistic filigree, before closing in gentle contemplation. All in all, it is a tuneful, surprisingly enchanting gem, a pacific counterpoint to a military musician’s life work.
Francis Poulenc
(Born in Paris in 1899; died in Paris in 1963)
Trio (for oboe, bassoon and piano), Op. 43
1. Lento – Presto
2. Andante con moto
3. Rondo. Très vif
At the turn of the 20th Century, Paris was an exciting tumult of new and adventurous artistic ideals. The Parisian salon was the place to be for anyone who was someone, a place where artists and thinkers came to discuss conquering – or at least profoundly changing – the world. Out of this intoxicating brew came a group of musicians called “Les Six” (also known as the “French Six”). Francis Poulenc, a frequent visitor to the salon, rather unwittingly found himself to be part of this group. The group’s general goal, formulated by its founders (first the composer Erik Satie and then the author Jean Cocteau) was to write unabashedly French music. Poulenc himself was mainly self-taught and had an innate and immense talent for music; he had no conservatoire trappings and was urbanely Parisian in the best sense, and he thus embodied the group’s ideals perfectly. As the writer Jean Roy, a chronicler of the “Les Six,” said:
“Francis Poulenc improvised, invented, disregarded conventions …. He was daring, but not provocative. … he showed himself for what he was, with a frankness which is rare, … drawing from a tremendous fund of knowledge that included the fine arts, literature and the music of his predecessors. … His music expresses the way he looked at things… sincerity… his own way of hoping, of praying, of showing confidence.”
From this sense of freshness came Poulenc’s first great chamber work in 1926: his Trio for Oboe, Bassoon and Piano, written when he was 27 years old. The work is equal parts silly, lively, beautifully melodic, and fun. Poulenc admitted that parts of his Trio were based, structurally and thematically, on the music of his forbearers – Haydn, Beethoven and Saint-Saens – but in Poulenc’s hands these echoes only add to the delight of the music. Regarding his musical lineage, he wittily remarked that he “wouldn’t like to be thought ‘born of an unknown father.'” What the listener hears in the Trio is anything but a pastiche of the past; instead, this is a splendidly lyrical and playful piece that features each instrument with an uncanny notion of their interplay. The Trio has become one of Poulenc’s most adored works, and rightly so. It is a superb example of the composer’s joyful music-making, and of his own harmonic and lyrical inventiveness.
Ludwig van Beethoven
(Born in Bonn in 1770; died in Vienna in 1827)
Piano Quintet in E-flat Major, Op. 16
1. Grave – Allegro ma non troppo
2. Andante cantabile
3. Rondo: Allegro ma non troppo
Life was a jolly affair for Beethoven when he moved to Vienna from Bonn in 1792. He was known to be fiery, but he was also a congenial socialite. And as a free-spirited youth, he was taking Vienna by storm as a “wild” piano virtuoso and magnificent improviser. However, he also had an extraordinary composing talent and needed to make it known.
Before tackling the symphonic genre, Beethoven started with a form that bridged the chamber-symphonic barrier: the Piano Quintet. Well acquainted with Mozart’s works, Beethoven used Mozart’s masterful Quintet for Piano and Winds in E-flat Major, K. 452 (1784) as a model for his own Quintet that featured a piano, clarinet, oboe, bassoon and horn. Beethoven completed this work in 1797 but he withheld its publication until 1801 and in the meantime also produced a reworked version that took the form of a Quartet for three strings and piano – a clear sign that he was trying to show off his abilities by demonstrating his range as a composer.
The Quintet is a very early Beethoven, and very “Classical” in sound, when compared to his later works. But it is no less Beethoven in spirit, clearly foreshadowing his boldness and compositional cleverness. The very somber and slow Grave opening is as much a statement to the world about the seriousness of Beethoven’s compositional intentions as it is a musical introduction. Soon after the Allegro proper begins, one is reminded of Beethoven’s abiding love for piano – indeed, this Quintet is much like a mini-piano concerto. But even in this particularly early work, Beethoven shows uncanny prowess in his writing for the winds: each instrument is featured especially well through a great deal of musical material, and each is given many moments to shine. One great example is just near the end of the first movement when Beethoven asks the horn to navigate some treacherous arpeggios.
The second movement is rightly titled cantabile (singing), with some meltingly song-like moments for every player, and it seems that it is here where Beethoven truly begins to find his own voice in this great, early masterpiece. The third movement finale is leisurely-brisk and sunny-bright, even allowing for a brief piano cadenza near its end. It is said that at the Quintet’s early performances, the “wild” Beethoven manned the piano himself and often took some extended liberties with this cadenza – to his great delight, though peeving his wind players.
© Max Derrickson
Songs and Dances of Love: March 25, 2017
Program NotesJohannes Brahms
(Born in Hamburg in 1833; died in Vienna in 1897)
Liebeslieder walzen, Op. 52
1. Rede, Mädchen (“Speak, Maiden”)
2. Am Gesteine rauscht die Flut (“Against the stones the stream rushes”)
3. O die Frauen (“Oh, women”)
4. Wie des Abends schöne Röte (“Like the evening’s lovely red”)
5. Die grüne Hopfenranke (“The green hop’s vine”)
6. Ein kleiner, hübscher Vogel (“A small, pretty bird”)
7. Wohl schön bewandt war es (“Quite fair and contented”)
8. Wenn so lind dein Auge mir (“When your eyes look at me”)
9. Am Donaustrande (“On the banks of the Danube”)
10. O wie sanft die Quelle (“Oh how gently the stream”)
11. Nein, es ist nicht auszukommen (“No, there’s just no getting along”)
12. Schlosser auf, und mache Schlösser (“Locksmith, get up and make your locks”)
13. Vögelein durchrauscht die Luft (“The little bird rushes through the air”)
14. Sieh, wie ist die Welle klar (“See how clear the waves are”)
15. Nachtigall, sie singt so schön (“The nightingale, it sings so beautifully”)
16. Ein dunkeler Schacht ist Liebe (“Love is a dark shaft”)
17. Nicht wandle, mein Licht (“Do not wander, my light”)
18. Es bebet das Gesträuche (“The bushes are trembling”)
In the first years after Brahms settled in Vienna, he quickly became appreciative of a new and very Viennese (and European bourgeois) musical fashion – Hausmusik. No longer was music just for the very rich, but indeed, the rise of a healthy middle class made music a household necessity. Young ladies, in order to be at all eligible for marriage, needed to know how to read music, sing and play the piano. But music in the house wasn’t just for young ladies. All manner of parlor works were written as well as re-arranged from larger works like symphonies, solely for the enjoyment of music lovers in their homes. For many a composer it was a cash cow. Brahms, not above the need for money, discreetly cashed in on this Hausmusik phenomenon with the young lady singer-pianist in mind, first and famously with his Hungarian Dances (1869), and then in the same year with his delightful Liebeslieder walzen (of which, over a few years, he composed several sets, Op. 52 being essentially his first).
Brahms’s Liebeslieder walzen (Love song waltzes) were inspired during a project of editing a batch of Schubert’s works, several groups of landlers, which are the waltzes especially loved by the Viennese. Also a model were the Spanische Liebeslieder (1849) by Schumann, Brahms’s fraternal mentor. No less an influence, too, were the delightful waltzes by Johann Strauss II (the Viennese “Waltz King”), which Brahms appreciated for their perfect form and delicious tunefulness. It’s often suggested that Brahms’s Love song waltzes were intended as a musical flirtation for Julie Schumann, the daughter of Robert and Clara Schumann. But as always, Brahms was much too discreet to have made this a public affair. What matters is that the waltzes are enchanting. As Brahms’s biographer Jan Swafford calls them, these are musical “Schlagsahne” (whipped cream).
The 18 waltzes are indeed confections, but they are certainly not trifles. They assume the ballroom dress of society waltzes, but Brahms doesn’t spare his genius on them. Even as early as the first waltz, the main theme is eventually turned upside down. Especially delightful are the rich harmonies and contrasts that appear in numbers 5, 6 and 7. A lovely homage to Strauss’s “The Beautiful Danube” is undeniable in number 9. Throughout, Brahms’s inventiveness for both tunefulness and sophisticated compositional craftsmanship make these love songs little wonders. Brahms had originally written them as “one-offs” – single sheet works for the parlor, for piano (four hands) and varying small groups of singers. The lyrics came from a large set of poetic translations from various cultures by the philosopher and poet Georg Friedrich Daumer (1800 – 1875). The songs range from giddy young love to broken heartache, but they are all quite lighthearted. Brahms, too, keeps the melodic themes light but infuses them with his typical soulfulness. The waltzes were immediately adored, and brought Brahms a sure amount of early fame and fortune; they have remained a cherished part of the chamber music repertoire. This arrangement for strings was first transcribed by Friedrich Hermann in 1889 and it has been loved ever since. In any arrangement, these love songs’ beauties are rich and genuine Brahms.
Edward Elgar
(Born in Lower Broadheath, England in 1857; died in Worcester, England in 1934)
Serenade in E-minor for String Orchestra, Op. 20
1. Allegro placevole
2. Larghetto
3. Allegretto
Elgar was the quintessential underdog, and as such, his masterpieces make us all the more glad that he finally achieved his rightful praise. He was a self-taught composer, learning his craft by borrowing books on counterpoint and harmony from the library in his small hometown of Broadheath. He was an accomplished violinist but also played the organ and bassoon and viola (and other instruments), and it was upon these instruments that he relied to make a living for many years as a private music teacher. He also picked up conducting and freelanced as a conductor in some of the most obscure places (such as the County and City Pauper Lunatic Asylum) for many, many years. His beloved wife, Alice, was his greatest champion and brought Elgar through some severe bouts of low self-esteem and depression. Had it not been for her constant support, Elgar may have never persevered to write some of Western music’s most beloved pieces.
His lovely Serenade was written in 1892 and is Elgar’s earliest piece to eventually become well known, although it took another six-and-a-half years for this now middle-aged British musician to find any fame as a composer with his Enigma Variations (1899). The Serenade was written “in the musical trenches,” as Elgar crafted out a patchwork living by teaching, performing and conducting. He also credited some of the piece’s material to his wife, Alice, by marking in the score in several places “Braut” (his German nickname for her, meaning “bride”). The success of his Enigma Variations, his Violin Concerto and other masterpieces eventually, and finally, landed him fame and security, But it was this Serenade that he always referred to as his favorite piece, and any listener will quickly understand his devotion. Here is Elgar at his lyrical best and at the very beginning of a long line of beautifully elegiac masterpieces for which he would become famous.
The first movement is marked a curious “placevole” which means “pleasing.” Indeed, its quietly propelling main rhythm and the rising and falling melody is pleasantly nostalgic and cheery – so wonderfully British. The middle movement is romantically and harmonically rich, capturing a kind of enlightened melancholy that only Elgar seemed to be able to conjure. The third movement rounds out the Serenade with delicate charm, perfectly moving from the deep beauty of the middle movement into a musing on the work’s placevole beginning, and lastly, closing in gentle contentment. Elgar was one of the first composers to seriously use the beginning technologies of sound recording, and fittingly, in 1933 a year before his death, he made a recording which included his beloved Serenade.
Ney Rosauro
(Born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in 1952)
Marimba Concerto No. 1, Op. 12
1. Saudação (Greetings)
2. Lamento (Lament)
3. Dança (Dance)
4. Despedida (Farewell)
According to his own website, Ney Rosauro “… is recognized as one of the most original and dynamic symphonic percussionists and composers today.” He studied in Brazil, Germany and Florida, and in his professional career has performed the world over as both a marimba virtuoso and as a timpanist/percussionist, along with composing over 100 works. He became especially recognized, however, with his wonderful Marimba Concerto No. 1 (1987) when another famous percussionist, Evelyn Glennie, recorded it with the London Symphony Orchestra in 1990. Since then, this Concerto has become probably the most widely performed marimba concerto in the world.
The marimba is a tuned percussion instrument with tubes underneath the pitched bars to enhance resonance. It became a prominent solo instrument in the late 1970’s when composers began recognizing its exceptional versatility – from its ability to sound like an organ with sustained, humming chords, the fact that it could be played like a piano with both melody and harmony, concurrently, as well as its potential for complex rhythms and extended range of notes (typically 4-1/3 octaves). All of this became especially possible with the introduction of playing with four (and occasionally more) mallets simultaneously. Rosauro, though, was the one of the first composers to really exploit the marimba’s four-mallet capabilities in a symphonic concerto form. His Concerto No. 1 does this marvelously and uses all the instrument’s possibilities superbly, taking care to not only showcase the soloist with virtuosic leaps from one end of the large instrument to the other and dazzling mallet work, but to showcase the instrument’s beauty. The Concerto was begun as a Master’s thesis while Rosauro was studying in Germany. In that year, his son Marcelo was born, and it’s fitting, with the Concerto’s energy and life-affirmingness, that Rosauro dedicated it to his newborn son.
As a Brazilian, Rosauro understandably uses Brazilian motives for the subtitles of his Concerto‘s four movements and as their inspirations. The first movement maintains a near-perpetual-motion kind of incessancy, with lots of wonderful moments for the soloist to make some jazzy melodic runs – it’s infectious and fun. The second movement explores the marimba’s soulful, organ-like timbres and includes some lovely duets between soloist and orchestra (especially the first violin). The third movement is called a dance, but it begins with a lovely cantabile section that features some fun mallet work, before becoming truly quick-footed and virtuosic, then closing in song. The finale is again a driving movement, jazzy and somewhat Brazilian in flavor, with a delightfully catchy tune, changing meters and virtuosity aplenty. The fervor leads up to a cadenza that is as much about fancy mallet work as it is wrapping up the musical narrative of the Concerto, musing with the various themes of the earlier movements. The work then ends in a fiery-quick blaze of virtuosity.
© Max Derrickson
Mozart Magic: November 19, 2016
Program NotesWolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Overture to Le nozze di Figaro
(The Marriage of Figaro)
This was the first of three operas that Mozart wrote in collaboration with the librettist Lorenzo da Ponte. This collaboration shines as a marriage of geniuses in Western music; it produced Le nozze di Figaro (1786), Don Giovanni (1787) and Così fan tutte (1790), all of which are considered the pinnacle of their Classical genre. Many regard Le nozze as the greatest Opera buffa ever written.
Created near the peak of his career, Le nozze di Figaro is one of Mozart’s finest scores. In it, his ability to make music mirror the psychological essence of the scene, the story and the characters is nearly unrivaled. The Overture is a self-contained work – meaning it contains essentially little of the themes from the opera proper and ends without fading into the first scene. It’s a marvel of fleetness. The winds and strings open with a frenetic but quiet, whirling motive that sets the tone for the opera to come – fast-paced and filled with intrigue and humor. The whirling is suddenly interrupted by a full tutti of the orchestra, bright and shining and loud, with trumpets and timpani that tells us the opera will bring a series of surprises and comic moments. The energy never lets up until the last, glorious bar.
Aria: “Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben” from the Opera Zaide
Zaide was begun in 1779-80 by Mozart in the off chance that this German language singspiel (“singing play”) might be accepted in Austrian Emperor Joseph II’s new opera company that was devoted to German opera. Mozart’s working title was Das Serail, but the Third Act and Overture were left unfinished as he moved on to his first commissioned opera, Idomeneo. Decades after Mozart’s death, the unfinished opera was prepared for production in 1830 and given the title it’s come to be known by: Zaide.
Having found a librettist in Johann Schachtner, Mozart’s Zaide took up the popular theme of Turkish pirates on the prowl in the Mediterranean, seizing loot and Christian slaves. Zaide is the heroine Christian slave who falls in love with another slave, Gomatz. The Turkish Sultan is enraged because of his own affections for Zaide, but by the end of Act II, Zaide chooses a free life with Gomatz.
“Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben” (“Rest gently, my dearest life (Beloved)”) appears in Act I when Zaide first discovers Gomatz, asleep under a tree. She instantly falls in love, and leaves him her portrait, jewels, money and a note beseeching him to meet her later in that same spot. She then sings this beautiful aria to the would-be lover, telling him to sleep until he awakes with happiness. It’s one of Mozart’s most beautiful arias and is especially remarkable given that this is such an early foray for him into full opera writing.
Rest peacefully, my beloved,
Sleep until happiness dawns,
My portrait I give you,
See, how kindly it smiles upon you.
Sweet dreams rock him to sleep,
And Grant his wish at last,
That the things of which he dreams
May ripen into reality.
Aria: “Ach, ich fuhl’s” from Die Zauberflöte
(The Magic Flute) K. 620
Overture to Così fan tutte
The opera is one of Mozart’s great masterworks, assimilating the buffa aspects of the popular Italian opera together with serious (Opera seria) aspects, giving the drama and the music a greater depth. Mozart’s music is fun and mirthful as it often needs to be with the comic storyline, but it also captures the intrigue and emotions of the main characters in an uncanny way. One of Mozart’s lasting influences on opera was the way he molded the music to make the characters feel as real as life. This is especially true in Cosi fan tutte.
The title translates roughly, “Women are like that”, referring to a belief that all women will eventually be unfaithful. Set in Naples, two young officers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, brag about the beauty and faithfulness of their sweethearts, sisters Fiordiligi and Dorabella. However, their older friend, Don Alfonzo, wagers that the two sisters can be found to be unfaithful. A convoluted and comic set of frauds and mistruths and disguises are set into motion. In the end, all is forgiven.
The Overture has retained its own staying power. It’s a gallant and joyful speed-ride. Unlike many overtures, however, it contains virtually no melodic material from the opera, but rather, new music used to set the tone. Among its many delights, there is an abundance of woodwind work, specifically the interplay between oboe and flute which is a musical representation of two sweethearts sharing the same heart-music. In all, the Overture is a lightning quick romp of merriment.
Aria: “Come scoglio” from Così fan tutte
Così fan tutte has made listeners both delighted and yet troubled. Of course this was all by design, and that may be why the depth of both Mozart’s musical score and da Ponte’s libretto make this arguably Mozart’s greatest achievement in opera. One splendid example of this bi-polar, humorous, and extraordinary music is “Come scoglio” (“Like a rock”) in Act I sung by Fiordiligi, Ferrando’s lover. Don Alphonso has arranged for Fiordiligi and Dorabella to believe that Ferrando and Guglielmo have been called off to war suddenly. Then, dressed in disguise as two “Albanians,” Ferrando and Guglielmo return and begin wooing the other’s sweetheart. Fiordiligi, at least initially, will have nothing of it, and crows about it.
Mozart begins the aria with an almost martial call to arms – a very peacocking moment. Then comes a delightful lyrical section that is almost inane, yet so charming that it keeps us smiling. The aria switches between these two types of music with a kind of over-the-top drama. It’s a great example of the type of opera-stopping solos that permeated 18th Century opera, but the aria is simultaneously parodying them. With this brilliantly uncanny mix of bravura with lyrical charm, Mozart’s music can’t quite allow you to believe Fiordiligi’s protestations, even while she must accomplish some extremely difficult musical passages: large interval leaps, and drops and runs up and down a two-octave range. “Come scoglio” is definitely one of Mozart’s greatest hits.
(The Marriage of Figaro)
Written near the peak of his career, Le nozze di Figaro is naturally one of Mozart’s finest scores – many consider it to be the finest Opera buffa ever written. And his ability to make music mirror the psychological essence of the scene, the story, and the characters is nearly unrivaled. One of the opera’s most beautiful and thoughtful moments occurs in Act III with the Countess’s aria “Dove sono” (“Where are they?). Here the Countess is planning to catch her husband, the Count, red-handed in faithlessness with Susanna, and she’s employed Susanna to help trap him. But in a moment of quiet reflection, she wonders where the sweetness of their love has gone, how she could find herself in such a terrible state of lovelessness and humiliation. And yet, she still holds hope with a faintness as fragile as a spider web. The beauty of the music is deeply poignant, but Mozart goes a little further. He creates a magic moment, to capture the deep suffering of the Countess, by repeating the first section at almost a whisper. The psychological effect is disarming – even in the pathos of the Countess’s soul pain, a feeble hope for reconciliation is still distantly glimmering.
Of changing that ungrateful heart!
Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543