Herbert Blomstedt (1927 -2026)

With some other notes from an, er, eventful week

Herbert B. rehearsing in Leipzig, 1998  (photo: Eckehard Schulz/AP)

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125:
iii. Adagio molto e cantabile


[16:16] Staatskapelle Dresden, Herbert Blomstedt, cond. Berlin Classics (Deutsche Schallplatten), recorded in the Lukaskirche, Apr. 1979 & Mar. 1980

R. STRAUSS: Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche
(Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks), Op. 28


[14:50] Staatskapelle Dresden, Herbert Blomstedt, cond. Denon-Deutsche Schallplatten, recorded in the Lukaskirche, February 5-9, 1989

BRUCKNER: Symphony No. 7 in E: ii. Adagio - Sehr feierlich
und sehr langsam (Very solemn and very slow)


[24:33] Staatskapelle Dresden, Herbert Blomstedt, cond. Denon-Deutsche Schallplatten, recorded in the Lukaskirche, June 30-July 3, 1980

Mightn't one get the idea -- from these samplings as well as the likes of Rudolf Kempe's 1970-76 EMI-Deutsche Schallplatten series (14 LPs' or 9 CDs' worth) of Richard Strauss's orchestral works, not to mention the 1968 complete Ariadne auf Naxos, and Kurt San­der­ling's 1971-72 Eurodisc-Deutsche Schallplatten Brahms symphony cycle -- that the Dres­den State Orchestra was one of the world's greatest? It sure could be! Till Eulen­spiegel, for example, isn't a hard piece to make work, but it's a tricky one to play really well. Note how fully Blomstedt and the Dresd­ners characterize each musical moment -- and that's some mighty spiffy, purposeful horn-playing. In the Bruckner in particular, the strings positively glow. -- Ed.

by Ken

An eventful week, indeed. As you may have heard, on Wednesday the Swedish conductor Herbert Blomstedt, who has been a frequent presence in Sunday Classics from the outset, perhaps most inescapably for the 1980 Dresden recording of Bruckner 7 from which we've just heard once again the ineffably beautiful Adagio, died. (We're going to hear more of the symphony, but not today.)

It's hard to sob uncontrollably about Maestro B.'s life and life's work being cruelly cut short. He lived almost four months after his 99th birthday, and he remained active till pretty close to the end. We're going to hear him described as "modest" and "unassuming," and these seem to me on the nose. Throughout his career -- and even more in those golden years -- orchestras seemed to love playing for/with him. All the more reason to celebrate his life and work, and we'll get to that. But other stuff happened this week.


WE'RE NOT DONE WITH THE LEGACY OF MAESTRO B. --

Two ways to celebrate summer -- but one's only free through Aug. 9

(1) WE CAN TAKE NOTE OF SUMMERTIME IN SONG

Summertime and the livin' is easy.
Fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high.
Oh, your daddy's rich, and your ma is good-lookin'.
So hush, little baby, don' you cry.

One of these mornin's you goin' to rise up singin'.
Then you'll spread yo' wings, an' you'll take the sky.
But till that mornin' there's a-nothin' can harm you,
with Daddy and Mammy standin' by.

[2:45] Leontyne Price, soprano; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. Decca, from the "Gala" sequence recorded for the 1960 Fledermaus recording conducted by Karajan (still for my money the best Fledermaus you can buy), recorded in the Sofiensaal, June 1960

Think the song can't be sung more movingly? Ms. P. again
(with a nice orchestral intro whittled down from the opening scene)

[4:42; "Summertime" at 1:11] Leontyne Price, soprano; RCA Victor Chorus and Orchestra, Skitch Henderson, cond. RCA, recorded in the St. George Hotel, Brooklyn, May 13-17, 1963
[This is from a really smartly conducted LP of Porgy excerpts, later reissued as a "High Performance" CD, with William Warfield and Leontyne Price reprising roles they first sang together in the early 1950s -- and Ms. P. gloriously poaching Clara's famous song (which includes the chorally punctuated reprise). My goodness, listen to what she makes of it! -- Ed.]

How the song fits into the actual scene (with a fine Clara)

[7:46; "Summertime" on track 2 (at 4:18)] Harolyn Blackwell (s), Clara; Glyndebourne Chorus, London Philharmonic Orchestra, Simon Rattle, cond. EMI, recorded in Abbey Road Studio No. 1, February 1988
[This complete Porgy, based on a Glyndebourne production, garnered gushing accolades -- for reasons I've never gotten. Were the accoladers just that unfamiliar with the piece? We do get a classy Clara, though. -- Ed.]

Here's the scene through the reprise of "Summertime"
(spotlighting a 26yo soprano headed for quite a career of her own)

[13:50; "Summertime" at 5:15] Barbara Hendricks (s), Clara; Joela Jones, piano (in the "Jasbro Brown Blues"); Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, Cleveland Orchestra, Lorin Maazel, cond. Decca, recorded in Cleveland's Masonic Auditorium, August 1975
[This performance is more like it, no? And note the pianist in the "Jasbo Brown Blues" -- we all know Joela Jones, right? A tip: In 2021, upon her retirement from a 54-year association with the Cleveland Orchestra, clevelandclassical.com published a gorgeous interview she did with Mike Telin. She recalled, for example, playing the accordion (an old love of hers) in Wozzeck, Final Alice, and even Rusalka -- the latter her suggestion to "Franz" (i.e., music director Franz Welser-Möst), happily accepted, when it proved hard to find a proper version of the harmonium Dvořák called for. -- Ed.]

(2) 7 COMPOSERS SHARE "WHAT I DID THIS SUMMER"

"In an age driven by productivity, the term 'workation' has arisen today which describes working whilst on holiday. Of course, the phenomenon itself is much older: composers such as Ludwig van Beethoven, Johannes Brahms, and Claude Debussy sought inspiration during the summer months in the countryside, at health resorts, or by the sea. Our playlist demonstrates how masterpieces of very different character were created as a result."

-- Introduction to the Berlin Philharmonic's Digital Concert Hall playlist "Musicians at leisure: Masterpieces from the summer retreat"
[STREAMING FREE from the DCH through August 9]

by Ken

Yes, I know. We have so much lost ground, lost time, unfinished work, so many posts-in-progress in varying states of incompletion. Meanwhile, I've shilly-shallied so unconscionably that the free music that inspired the post is in its final week of, er, freedom. However, If you miss the offer of this free playlist from the Berlin Philharmonic's Digital Concert Hall, I'll have some good, or at least good-ish, news at post's end.

WHAT ARE THE 7 MASTERPIECES "OF VERY DIFFERENT
CHARACTER" FROM COMPOSERS ON "SUMMER RETREAT"?

"Out-of-body" Beethoven, part 2: Is one of these three string-trio slow movements even more special than the other two?

BEETHOVEN: String Trio in G, Op. 9, No. 1:
ii. Adagio ma non tanto e cantabile (key: E major)

Itzhak Perlman, violin; Pinchas Zukerman, viola; Lynn Harrell, cello. EMI, recorded live at the 92nd Street Y, New York City, June 6-7, 1990

BEETHOVEN: String Trio in D, Op. 9, No. 2:
ii. Andante quasi allegretto (key: D minor)

Itzhak Perlman, violin; Pinchas Zukerman, viola; Lynn Harrell, cello

BEETHOVEN: String Trio in C minor, Op. 9, No. 3:
ii. Adagio con espressione (key: C major)

Itzhak Perlman, violin; Pinchas Zukerman, viola; Lynn Harrell, cello

"[These three] extraordinary slow movements in the key of E major [from the Piano Trio in G, Op. 1, No. 2; the String Trio in G, Op. 9, No. 1; and the String Quartet No. 8 in E minor, Op. 59, No. 2] . . . share an almost out-of-body quality, and it’s inspiring to wonder what this beautiful tonality must have meant to Beethoven."

-- David Finckel, in "Making the most out of chamber music coaching," from The Strad newsletter, Jan. 21, 2025

by Ken

The David Finckel quote, of course, is a pickup from last week's first installment of "'Out-of-body' Beethoven?," wherein we took advantage of this linkage of three Beethoven slow movements in E major, offered as an example of the kind of musical context he can offer to students as part of one of his most enjoyed yet enormously complex activities: coaching chamber music. I thought it would be fun as well as instructive to listen to David F.'s three E major slow movements -- along with two stringless ones I added, from the Op. 90 and Op. 109 Piano Sonatas.

For me there was no question that David F.'s trio of slow movements have something special in common. One thing I wanted to do was listen to what assorted performers have heard in them, to get some idea of how we might think about that special "E major quality." I also wanted to hear those movements in the context of the works they're part of, to get a sense of the kinds of use Beethoven made of that special quality (or qualities). And we're still going to attempt to do both of those things.

I'm still plugging away at that next step. Meanwhile I thought it would be interesting just to set one of those E major movements against alongside some comparable slow movements, which is what we've done above. The G major Trio, Op. 9, No. 1, is part of a set of three, and above we've heard the same performers play the slow movements of all three.

I suspect that for many of us, even the most confirmed Beethoven-philes, the string trios don't figure prominently in our listening. I'm always reminded when I have occasion to return to them (the three trios of Op. 9 were preceded by a six-movement Trio in E-flat, Op. 3, and the five-movement Serenade in D, Op. 8), I'm reminded that they're not only potentially more entertaining but more substantial than I remembered. It's generally pointed out that the trios were in some sense a preparation for the creative force that Beethoven would unleash in the Op. 18 set of six string quartets. Already I think it's fair to say that the three slow movements of Op. 9 are pretty gorgeous.

If the Adagio ma non tanto e cantabile of Op. 9, No. 1 were in E minor, it would be in the parallel minor key of the first movement's G major, but it's not in E minor, it's in E major. (We have this same relationship in the Op. 1, No. 2 Piano Trio.) In the remaining trios the slow movement is in the parallel minor or major of the first. The nervous tension of the D minor of Op. 9, No. 2 is a striking contrast to the D major of the first movement, while the C major of the harmonically ambiguous Adagio con espressione of Op. 9, No. 3 is about as un-C-majory a C major as I can think of.


AS A REMINDER, HERE ARE THE PERFORMANCES WE HEARD OF THE OP. 9, NO. 1 "ADAGIO MA NON TANTO E CANTABILE"

"Out-of-body" Beethoven? We have three gifted samples (and then we'll add a couple more)

"[These three] extraordinary slow movements in the key of E major . . . share an almost out-of-body quality, and it’s inspiring to wonder what this beautiful tonality must have meant to Beethoven."

-- David Finckel, in "Making the most out of chamber music coaching,"

from The Strad newsletter, Jan. 21, 2025 [from which much more below]

(1) from the Piano Trio No. 2 in G, Op. 1, No. 2:
ii. Largo con espressione (Largo with expression)

Suk Trio (Josef Suk, violin; Josef Chuchro, cello; Josef Hála, piano). Supraphon-Denon, recorded in the House of Artists, Prague, April 1984
[NOTE: Volume on this clip is a bit low -- you might nudge your level up.]

Isaac Stern, violin; Leonard Rose, cello; Eugene Istomin, piano. Columbia-CBS-Sony, recorded in CBS 30th Street Studio, July 11 & Dec. 18-19, 1969

(2) from the String Trio in G, Op. 9, No. 1:
ii. Adagio ma non tanto e cantabile (Adagio but not too much and cantabile)

Jascha Heifetz, violin; William Primrose, viola; Gregor Piatigorsky, cello. RCA, recorded in Radio Recorders Studios, Hollywood, Mar. 27, 1957 (mono)

Trio à cordes français (Gérard Jarry, violin; Serge Collot, viola; Michel Tournus, cello). EMI France, recorded 1970

(3) from the String Quartet No. 8 in E minor, Op. 59, No. 2 (Rasumovsky No. 2): ii. Molto adagio. Si tratta questo pezzo con molto di sentimento (This piece is to be treated with much feeling)

Brandis Quartet (Thomas Brandis and Peter Brem, violins; Wilfried Strehle, viola; Wolfgang Boettcher, cello). Harmonia Mundi France, recorded November 1986

Borodin Quartet (Ruben Aharonian and Andrei Abramenkov, violins; Igor Naidin, viola; Valentin Berlinsky, cello). Chandos, recorded in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatory, March 2003

by Ken

Yes, yes, we have many important projects afoot, and during the long silence I've been toiling away at them. All I can say is, watch this space. Then, as part of my daily online dose of The Strad, that invaluable publication that takes as its brief everything and everyone having to do with string instruments, I found myself immersed in the above-referenced piece by cellist, professor, and general music administrator-impresario David Finckel offering an overview of one of his favorite and at the same time most demanding musical activities: coaching chamber music.

from "Making the most out of chamber music coaching"
(from The Strad newsletter, Jan. 21, 2025)

by David Finckel

"Teaching chamber music has been one of the greatest pleasures of my professional life. Students who seek my guidance garner my utmost admiration for their pursuit of expertise in one of the highest forms of art ever devised by humankind. I cannot possibly encourage them enough.

The BSO's soon-to-be-seated new concertmaster, 'the other Nathan,' is only its 4th in the last 104 years

"We had immense pleasure collaborating with Nathan last January on Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk."

-- from Boston Symphony music director Andris Nelsons's statement
on the naming of Nathan Cole as the orchestra's new concertmaster

"I feel fortunate to have known two people who held the position before me, Malcolm Lowe and Joseph Silverstein. Silverstein [pictured at right, c2008] was one of my idols, and I grew up with many of the Boston Symphony Chamber Players recordings. Any time that I had to learn a piece, BSCP would have a recording of it with Silverstein leading, so I had his sound in my ear early on and was lucky to get to work with him before he passed away. He was extremely generous with his time and wisdom. He took himself seriously enough to continue working on his craft all the way through the end of his life. But I always got the sense that he knew he was a custodian of the position, and that everything he did was for his colleagues and for the music, and that’s something that I want to carry forward." -- from Nathan C.'s statement (same link)

In October 2017, preparing for his first performance of the Beethoven Violin Concerto, Nathan C. video-recorded his choice for the first-movement cadenza, by "one of my heroes," Nathan Milstein (1904-1992). Nathan C. is playing the 1716 Strad formerly owned by Nathan M., which he had on loan for the occasion, an experience he detailed in a genuinely must-read account for Violinist.com: "Speed-dating a Strad: one week with Milstein's ex."

Welcome to natesviolin.com! Mentoring the next generations of violinists has been a longtime passion of the BSO's new concertmaster. An abundance of videos can be found online, and NatesViolin.com provides a wealth of resources and support for aspiring violinists as well as considerable interest for music lovers with curiosity about the nuts 'n' bolts of the medium (not to mention failed -- or shall we say "unaspiring"? -- fiddlers).

by Ken

I know that's a mouthful of a quote I've reproduced above from Nathan Cole on his appointment as BSO concertmaster. I expected to edit it down to a "tease" here, as I did with Andris Nelsons's statement, which we'll be reading in full later. But the danged quote just wouldn't edit down. I loved it when I first read it, and after several weeks of poking around Nathan C.'s career and gathering materials for some sort of overview of the succession of these three concertmasters, I'm even more impressed -- and touched. (I have pretty high regard for Joseph Silverstein myself.) And I felt even more strongly that the quote needs to be taken in one fell swoop. One thing you learn about Nathan C. is that not only is he highly knowing and communicative as a musician (we're going to be coming back to that 2017 performance of the Beethoven Concerto), but he's remarkably communicative with words.

If you were here for last week's SC pre-post, "At home with Nathan and Akiko (aka 'Stand partners for life')," you already heard Nathan C., at the time first associate concertmaster of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, "pre-performing" his choice of a third-movement cadenza, Fritz Kreisler's, for that October 2017 performance of the Beethoven Violin Concerto. We'll come back to that performance, but first I guess we should focus on the not-quite-breaking news.

When the Boston Symphony launches its Tanglewood season on July 5, with an all-Beethoven program under music director Andris Nelsons (who this year takes on the added role of Tanglewood "head of conducting"), the orchestra will at last have a new occupant for the Charles Munch Chair, which is to say the concertmaster's seat -- named of course for the BSO's 1949-62 music director [pictured at right]. The Charles Munch Chair hasn't been filled since 35-year incumbent Malcolm Lowe retired after the 2019 Tanglewood season. (The onset of the pandemic can't have had a salutary effect on the replacement process.)


THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF MALCOLM LOWE'S RETIREMENT . . .

At home with Nathan and Akiko(aka "Stand Partners for Life"*)

*"Stand Partners for Life": Check out Nathan and Akiko's podcast

LA Phil Home Recitals: Nathan Cole & Akiko Tarumoto
[For now you'll have to trust me that there's a reason why we're interested just now. -- Ed.]

Nathan and Akiko introduce themselves and the music, then --
[at 0:55] Wieniawski: Étude-Caprice, Op. 18, No. 2: Andante

And then -- Étude-Caprice, Op. 18, No. 4: Tempo di Saltarella,
ma non troppo vivo

[from their May 2020 LA Phil Home Recital]

by Ken

Back in early pandemic days, like their Los Angeles Philharmonic colleagues first associate concertmaster Nathan Cole and assistant concertmaster Akiko Tarumoto (or, as Nathan has put it in at least one introduction: "No. 2 and No. 4" among the LA Phil first violins) were on their own with their three children at home, and for the online series of "LA Phil Home Recitals" served up this potion of home-brewed music: Nos. 2 and 4 of Henryk (aka Henri) Wieniawski's Op. 18 set of eight Études-Caprices.

The Études-Caprices, as Nathan notes, were written as essentially violin solos with the accompaniment of a second violin, so he and Akiko have done some rearranging to allot equal measures of "good stuff" to the two parts. My original intention was to pluck out one of the two pieces, and I duly made a clip of No. 4, the sparkling Tempo di Saltarella. But it just seemed wrong to jump into it without the setup of the lovely Andante of No. 2 -- so there they both are.


OH, AND HERE'S NATHAN PLAYING "HOME RECITAL" BACH

BACH: Solo Violin Sonata No. 1 in G minor, S. 1001:
i. Adagio

"I'd like to play for you the first movement of Bach's First Sonata for Solo Violin in G minor. Now this is a piece I've played my whole life. It was the very first solo Bach that I ever learned. I'm sure I was 10 or 11 years old, way before I could understand the music of Bach. But I've had my ups and downs with it ever since. I've always loved this music dearly, but I've had some scary moments too. One recital that I played -- this very movement, I got about three lines in, and I had no idea what came next! So, very embarrassing, I had to just stop, start over, and when I got to that spot again, I thought it was going to happen again! Then miraculously I remembered the next notes! So, I'm going to hope that doesn't happen here! I always loved playing solo Bach, and I'm overjoyed to be able to share this music with you during this time. Thanks!"

[from his April 2020 "LA Phil Home Recital" -- watch here]

WHY JUST NOW DO WE CARE ABOUT NATHAN AND AKIKO?

The question we're exploring: What good is a "symphonic adagio" anyways? Like, what can one of 'em do for us? -- Part 1

[1] WE KNOW THE ARCHETYPAL SYMPHONIC ADAGIO,
BUT HERE ARE SOME DIFFERENT WAYS OF HEARING IT

Vienna Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, cond. DG, recorded live in the Vienna State Opera, September 1979

Staatskapelle Dresden, Herbert Blomstedt, cond. Berlin Classics, recorded in the Lukaskirche, Apr. 1979 & Mar. 1980

Budapest Symphony Orchestra, Tamás Vásáry, cond. Hungaroton, recorded live in the Concert Hall of the Ferenc Liszt Academy of Music, June 26, 1997

Cleveland Orchestra, George Szell, cond. Epic-CBS-Sony, recorded in Severance Hall, Apr. 21-22, 1961

New York Philharmonic, Kurt Masur, cond. New York Philharmonic Special Editions, recorded live in Avery Fisher Hall, Dec. 31, 1999

Even if you're dead sure that back in the day "adagio" didn't mean
all that slow, you can still make some kind of statement --

Tonhalle Orchestra (Zürich), David Zinman, cond. Arte Nova, recorded in the Tonhalle, Dec. 12 & 14, 1998

[NOTE: It happens that the performances are arranged from longest to shortest. Is there anything to be made of this? Hint: Might it be not so much "getting better" or "getting worse" as working differently? -- Ed.]


[2] IN FACT, THERE HAVE BEEN SYMPHONIC ADAGIOS
ALMOST AS LONG AS THERE HAVE BEEN SYMPHONIES

Hungarian Chamber Orchestra, Vilmos Tátrai, solo violin and leader. Hungaroton, recorded 1965

Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, Dennis Russell Davies, cond. Sony, recorded in the Mercedes Benz Center, Stuttgart, between 1995 and 2006

Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra, Adam Fischer, cond. Nimbus-Brilliant Classics, recorded in the Haydnsaal of the Esterházy Palace, Eisenstadt, Austria, Apr.-May 2001

Orchestra of St. Luke's, Sir Charles Mackerras, cond. Telarc, recorded in the John Harms Center for the Arts, Englewood, NJ, Nov. 8-9, 1988

[NOTE: Here our timings are affected by repeats. There are two, which together would cause the whole movement to be repeated. Vilmos Tátrai, probably best known as founder and first violinist of the great Tátrai Quartet, takes no repeats (and how much, really, do we miss them?) in the gorgeous sort-of-"luxuriant adagio" Hungarian Chamber Orchestra performance, where he plays the quicksilver violin solos; Dennis Russell Davies and Adam Fischer take the first repeat but not the second, meaning that Fischer's pace is kind of a quickstep adagio; and Sir Charles M. takes both repeats. -- Ed.]


[3] SO WHAT CAN YOU DO WITH A SYMPHONIC ADAGIO?
Hmm, is there anything else in music like this one-two punch?

In which we chart our course from Beethoven's visionary symphonic adagio to the great symphonic adagios of Bruckner and Mahler

(And we run smack into the dread Ninth Symphony snafu)

Maestro Furtwängler will get us from Beethoven's sublime symphonic adagio to Bruckner; then Carlo Maria Giulini will carry us on to Mahler.

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125:
iii. Adagio molto e cantabile


Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Wilhelm Furtwängler, cond. EMI, recorded live in the Festspielhaus, July 29, 1951

Berlin Philharmonic, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. DG, recorded in the Philharmonie, Feb. 1989 & Feb. 1990

by Ken

Last week, you may recall, "Our ongoing Seiji Ozawa remembrance sidetracked me into some aural pondering of the symphonic adagio." I'm afraid we're not going to get much farther today than scouting the route, but that still leaves us in for some remarkable music.

You'll note that in last week's post I've upgraded the audio clip of the 1951 Furtwängler Beethoven Ninth, and this week we've heard it again, paired with Carlo Maria Giulini's performance, and that duo will escort us to -- in fact, all the way through -- Anton Bruckner's symphonic adagio-ing, to his final Adagio, the last movement he composed, the Adagio of his Ninth Symphony, whose intended finale he ran out of either time or inspiration to "complete."

The sound of Furtwängler's 1944 Bruckner 9 is less happy even than that of his 1951 Beethoven 9 [AFTERTHOUGHT: however, the upgraded Beethoven 9 audio clip sure sounds better (how 'bout those timpani?), and for that matter the Bruckner 9 clip sounds a lot better than I expected -- Ed.], but it's good enough, and will have to do, since it's the only Bruckner 9 he left us. And if there's one thing classical-music lovers generally agree on (there aren't many!), it's that the Furtwängler Bruckner 9 is one of the greatest and least dispensable recordings we have. That said, Carlo Maria Giulini's Bruckner 9 seems to me of comparable stature. In the fullness of his long career, Maestro G. had the opportunity to show us how deep and darkly perceiving an artist he was -- I've described this performance as "dripping blood."

Finally for this week, Maestro Furtwängler not being a Mahler guy, Maestro Giulini will lead us the final step to Mahler, represented by a movement I don't think is often thought of as a "symphonic adagio" -- only it is, isn't it?


LISTENING TO FURTWÄNGLER'S AND GIULINI'S
PERFORMANCES OF THE ADAGIO OF BRUCKNER 9 . . .

Our ongoing Seiji Ozawa remembrance sidetracked me into some aural ponderingof the symphonic adagio

UPDATE: Now with a better clip of the Adagio of the Furtwängler Beethoven Ninth

Carlo Maria Giulini (1914-2005) conducting the Los Angeles
Philharmonic, c1980 [photo: Los Angeles Philharmonic Archives]

"Adagio A"

Vienna Symphony Orchestra, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. EMI-Testament, recorded in the Grosser Saal of the Musikverein, Dec. 8-10, 1974

"Adagio B"

Berlin Philharmonic, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. DG, recorded in the Philharmonie, Feb. 1989 & Feb. 1990

by Ken

I don't expect that everyone will recognize one of these two movements, while I expect that most everyone will recognize the other, which is one of the core chunks of Western music from the 19th century forward. I hope that most listeners will hear in both of the above clips performances of attention-grabbing splendor. This performance of the lesser-known piece, and indeed of the symphony it comes from, made me think about the piece itself.

Later we're going to hear Giulini's performance of this movement alongside two other, really wonderful performances -- so good that it almost pains me to point out that they yield to Giulini's achievement in applying, from the outset, such an irresistible grabbing quality, a personal connection that animates a sense of the vitality and urgency of the piece which makes me hear its direct lineage from our other demonstration Adagio.


FIRST OFF, WHAT IS AN ADAGIO?

It's not easy to pin down, but attempts to do so often offer by way of example --

Adagio in G minor for organ and strings (arr. Giazoto)


David Bell, organ; Léon Spierer, violin; Berlin Philharmonic, Her­bert von Karajan, cond. DG, recorded in the Kammer­musik­saal of the Philharmonie, Sept. 30, 1983

FLASH: Want to see 'n' hear Seiji Ozawa conduct Mendelssohn's Elijah for free? Act now!

We're also going to hear (right here!) Seiji conduct Beethoven's irresistible Choral Fantasy with its great champion Rudolf Serkin

The Berlin Philharmonic's Digital Concert Hall is honoring Seiji Ozawa with free access to the performance of Mendelssohn's Elijah -- built around a commanding assumption of the crucial title role by baritone Matthias Goerne -- recorded on May 17, 2009. But I don't know how long it'll be free!

AN APOLOGY: This is really inexcusable. There's no good reason why I couldn't have gotten this "FLASH" up Monday, but here it is Sunday (well, actually, Monday again by the time this is posted), and .*nbsp. . . In one source I saw something like "On demand through February 29, but I didn't know if that was a legit cutoff date for free access. I dithered. The good news is that the 2009 and 2016 interviews shouldn't be going away anytime soon. Sorry!

by Ken

For once, I heard that clock ticking and punched up the 2009 Seiji-Berlin Elijah right away, and watched the whole thing. It took me a long time to come to grips with the piece, but I did, and it occupies a special place in my affections. I was especially happy to discover how strong Matthias Goerne's performance of the title role is, because without a strong Elijah the piece kind of doesn't make a lot of sense. But there's still a serious burden on the conductor, because a fair amount of the piece really does need a major effort of motivation-defining, and this is the sort of thing Seiji was so good at: helping his co-performers feel the importance of what they're performing in the moment and how it relates to a piece's grand design.

There's also some important history embedded in the Elijah performance, as I came to understand from watching the 2009 and 2016 interviews in the Digital Concert Hall archive. Onsite they're described as "conversations," and they truly are -- with a member of the orchestra, sometimes even in English, and always with subtitles even if they aren't. It turns out that the Elijah, owing to what I recall him describing in the 2016 "conversation," with his countryman Daishin Kashimoto, as "my mysterious illness" (all week I've been thinking I should really rewatch the 2016 conversation to pin down his exact words; this'll have to be close enough), would be his last Berlin appearance until he was finally able to return in 2016 to conduct an all-Beethoven second half of a concert that began with a conductorless performance by elite winds of the Berlin Phil of Mozart's stupendous Gran Partita Serenade, K. 361.


MORAL: DON'T OVERLOOK THE INTERVIEWS!

Continuing our countdown of clarinetist Allan Rosenfeld's "Top 10 [actually 11] Orchestral Clarinet Solos," at No. 6 we come to --

From the Manhattan soundtrack:

Stanley Drucker, clarinet; Gary Graffman, piano; New York Philharmonic, Zubin Mehta, cond. CBS-Sony, released 1979


THIS TIME: Gershwin, Bartók, Beethoven

❻

GERSHWIN: Rhapsody in Blue: beginning

ALLAN ROSENFELD: "Anyone who has ever seen Woody Allen's film Manhattan knows there's no way I could leave this showstopper off the list."

NOW, WE DID THE RHAPSODY OPENING PRETTY WELL -- in January 13's "There's more than one way you can launch a piece with a solo clarinet." But that doesn't mean we can't do it again!


Stanley Drucker, clarinet; New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, piano and cond. Live performance from the Royal Albert Hall, London, June 3-4, 1976 [Watch here]

Stanley Drucker, clarinet; New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, piano and cond. Live performance from the Jahrhunderthalle (Centennial Hall), Frankfurt, June 8-9, 1976 [Again, watch here]

Stanley Drucker, clarinet; Fazil Say, piano; New York Philharmonic, Kurt Masur, cond. Teldec, recorded in Avery Fisher Hall, December 1998

by Ken

As it says up top, we're resuming our countdown of Charlotte (NC) Symphony clarinetist Allan Rosenfeld's November 2020 "Top 10 [really 11, with the inclusion of an "Honorable Mention"] Orchestral Clarinet Solos," in our ongoing remembrance of the late Stanley Drucker, and we pick up at No. 6, the consciousness-blowing opening of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, which the New York Philharmonic's beyond-legendary Stanley D. can be readily heard playing with no fewer than three NY Phil music directors -- that I know of!

(I had to word that carefully, because as often as Stanley D. and Lenny B. must have performed the Rhapsody together, and as easy as it is to find performances they did together, as far as I know they never actually recorded it together. When Lenny B. did his inevitable DG remake, it was with the LA not NY Phil.)

THE LIST SO FAR

10) Respighi: Pines of Rome, end of "Pines of the Janiculum"
9) Tchaikovsky: Francesca da Rimini
8) Brahms: Symphony No. 3, opening of 2nd movement

-- in "An orchestra principal's most visible job is playing orchestral solos written for his/her instrument. He-e-re's Stanley D.!" [June 25]

7) Puccini: Tosca, Act III, "E lucevan le stelle"

-- in "We move on to No. 7 as we count our way through those 'Top 10 [or 11] Orchestral Clarinet Solos' with (mostly) Stanley Drucker" [July 2]

ABOUT ALL THERE REMAINS FOR US TO DO WITH
THE RHAPSODY IS TO HEAR THE WHOLE THING!

When you think "Schubert Serenade," isn't this the one -- "one of the most beloved of melodies" -- you're thinking of? (Part 2)

ALONG OUR WAY, WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO PAUSE
TO LISTEN TO THE LAST MUSIC SCHUBERT HEARD

This photo of Graham Johnson, taken by Malcolm Crowthers at the site of Schubert's original grave, graces the cover of the 37th and final volume (titled "The Final Year") of the Hyperion Schubert Edition. In the booklet, among many other matters, Graham tells the horrible story of Schubert's final and unexpectedly quick descent, aware that he wasn't far from his end, which came on November 19, 1928, more than two months shy of his 32nd birthday. In chronicling the aftermath, Graham tells us:

Schubert was fortunate to have a devoted brother in Ferdinand, who went to some trouble to fulfil the composer's whispered dying wishes. Normally the body, after a blessing of a local church, would have been taken to the official burial ground for the Wieden district; but Schubert had said in his last hours that he wished to lie next to Beethoven. This was the last and most profound of his pleas that his contemporaries, and thus all of us who have come after him, should identify him with his immortal forebear. It was a desire stemming from the very heart of Schubert's own belief in his place in musical history, and it was honoured by his friends and family, some of whom, even then, sensed the justice of his beliefs.

Schubert's body was taken some distance to the Währinger cemetery where Beethoven had been buried the year before. It was not possible for him to lie right next to the older composer, but he was placed two grave plots away from his idol. (Schumann later went to visit the graves and wrote to Clara that he rather envied the man who lay between them -- a certain Colonel O'Donnell.) A permanent memorial, designed by Schober, and with a bust by Josef Dialer and an inscription by Grillparzer (quoted at the top of this essay) --

Die Tonkunst begrub hier einen reichen Besitz aber noch viel schönere Hoffnungen
(The art of music here buried a rich possession but far fairer hopes)

was erected in 1830. Care seems to have been taken that the Greek temple-like construction should not stand as high as the Beethoven column to the left of it. Fifty-eight years later Schubert's body and Beethoven's were exhumed and taken to the grand, and rather inappropriately pompous, new monuments in the Zentralfriedhof [Central Cemetery] (The one appropriate thing about this new locale is that the tombs of Schubert and Wolf are situated back-to-back as if representing different sides of the art of lieder.) The Währinger cemetery ceased to be consecrated ground and was turned into a park. Today Turkish children play in the 'Schubert Park' without having any idea why oddly emotional admirers (myself and the photographer Malcolm Crowthers among them -- see the cover of this disc) should pay attention to those rather uncared-for memorials situated between a wall and a pathway overrun by youngsters' bicycles.

The pair of graves between those of the two composers are no longer identified. Beethoven and Schubert now lie, if not exactly together, then inextricably linked, each within the space of his own immortality. In this unlikely space in an unfashionable corner of Vienna, and despite an ugly backdrop of council flats erected in the 1920s, we recapture the scale of Biedermeier culture with greater accuracy than in the stately memorials built in the era of Franz Josef.     ⓒ2000 by Graham Johnson

FROM SCHUBERT'S FINAL DAYS, GRAHAM SHARES
A GRIPPING DETAIL WE OUGHT TO FOLLOW UP ON

The obsession with Beethoven continues right until the end. In his last days Schubert expressed a desire to hear Beethoven's C sharp minor Quartet Op 131: this was arranged thanks to the violinist Karl Holz and his colleagues. Holz later recounted his memories. 'Schubert was sent into such transports of delight and enthusiasm and was so overcome that we all feared for him . . . the quartet was to be the last music he heard. The king of harmony had sent the king of song a friendly bidding to the crossing'.

WHAT THE DYING SCHUBERT SO BADLY WANTED TO HEAR --
BEETHOVEN: String Quartet No. 14 in C-sharp minor, Op. 131:

i. Adagio ma non troppo e molto espressivo [at 0:01]
ii. Allegro molto vivace [at 6:50]
iii. Allegro moderato [at 10:02]
iv. Andante ma non troppo e molto cantabile [at 10:50]
v. Presto [at 25:02]
vi. Adagio quasi un poco andante [at 30:52]
vii. Allegro [at 32:54]

Barylli Quartet (Walter Barylli and Otto Strasser, violins; Rudolf Streng, viola; Richard Krotschak, cello). Westminster, recorded in the Mozartsaal of the Vienna Konzerthaus, 1952

by Ken

We left off with our sights on the "Serenade" from Schubert's posthumous final song collection, Schwanengesang. As promised, we're going to have Graham Johnson lead us through three chunks of the song, to give you a tiny sampling of some of the kinds of things that turn up in his voluminous Hyperion Schubert Edition commentaries.


BUT FIRST, THERE ARE VINTAGE PERFORMANCES
OF OUR "STÄNDCHEN" I'D REALLY LIKE TO SHARE

SC fave Imogen Cooper's choices of "Music that changed me" not only genuinely did change her life but make glorious listening for us

[ALERT: This evocative poster isn't entirely relevant to our topic.]

We hear the implacable Rigoletto Prelude -- our formal invitation to what we'll hear Imogen Cooper describe as the opera's "dark rich vistas" -- led first by Rafael Kubelik, from his beautifully conducted La Scala-DG Rigoletto of July 1964; and then at higher voltage by Georg Solti, from his June 1963 Rigoletto made in Rome with the RCA Italiana Chorus and Orchestra.

"For some reason the Evening Standard photographer was there, and there's a photograph in the family album of me with big round cheeks, wearing a polka-dot taffeta dress, standing smiling on the steps up to the Crush Bar."

-- Dame Imogen Cooper, in BBC Music Magazine's "Music
that changed me" feature for October 2022, on attending a
Covent Garden Rigoletto in the early 1950s -- at age three!

by Ken

Yes, yes, we've got all kinds of business pending, so rest assured that everything that's "in the works" is still there, and in most cases growing even as we (and they) wait. Meanwhile, this is an idea that has been gnawing at me every since my October issue of BBC Music Magazine gasped its exhausted way into my mailbox after its arduous Atlantic crossing -- arriving, it always seems to me, about the same time the next month's issue has begun circulating on the other side of the ocean.

"Music that changed me," I should explain, is a feature that appears on the magazine page inside the back cover of each issue, where a wonderfully nutty assortment of folks -- professional musicians, folks known for work in other fields with a known side-interest in music, and folks known for work in other fields whose musical predilections are wholly unknown to most of us -- share with an assigned interviewer a selection of pieces of music that have, well, changed them. (Do I have to add that many of the folks who are bona fide "celebrities" on their side of the pond are entirely unknown to me? This can be fun too, because even as I'm learning about their musical passions I'm busy trying to figure out who the heck they are.)

I confess that "Music that has changed me" has become a feature I check out fairly early in my perusal of the magazine just plucked out of the mailbox. And certainly my interest shot up when I saw that for October the subject was Imogen Cooper, a pianist whose deep culture, musical sophistication, and passion for clear musical communication have been marked here on multiple occasions. It was a special pleasure to see her name appear in the 2021 Queen's Birthday Honours list, making her Dame Imogen (a form of address she doesn't seem to have much use for).


DAME IMOGEN'S "MUSIC THAT CHANGED ME" NOT
JUST MEETS BUT WELL EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS

Do I hear a clarinet?

Here, more or less, is where we're going to wind up
[I know I sometimes (or maybe often!) keep it to myself -- make it a little surprise! -- where we're headed, musically speaking, but not this time. -- Ken]

i. Allegro [no exposition repeat]
ii. Adagio [at 9:07]

Keith Puddy, clarinet; Gabrieli Quartet (Kenneth Sillito and Brendan O'Reilly (probably, but possibly Claire Simpson), violins; Ian Jewel, viola; Keith Harvey, cello). Classics for Pleasure-EMI, recorded in the U.K., released 1970

But this is where our story -- and there is a little story -- starts

Wait, the saxophone's a Woodwind Family member? Hmm . . . okay, sorta.

But really, at the moment it's just two Family members we're interested in.

Duo in C for Clarinet and Bassoon --
i. Allegretto
ii. Larghetto sostenuto [at 3:49]
iii. Rondo: Allegretto [at 5:58]

Members of the Melos Ensemble of London. EMI-Warner Classics, recorded in Abbey Road Studio No. 1, October 1969

by Ken

Yes, yes, Ives and all of that. I'm still trying to make the transition from "Ives the easy way" to "Ives the hard way," moving from the Second to the Third Symphony, with a dip into the violin-and-piano sonatas (and maybe the string quartets?); with the Fourth Symphony and the Concord Piano Sonata looming on the horizon. Though I've also been wondering whether we oughtn't to go back to the First Symphony, so often dismissed as merely Ives's "student" symphony.

Anyway, in some fashion yet to be worked out, that's all coming!

Meanwhile, there was this EMI "double fforte" double-CD set that somehow found its way to a sitting-around-doing-nothing situation. But before we continue with our "little story," a challenge: your best guess (unless you know, in which case it's not much of a challenge, is it?) at to whether --

the charming little clarinet-and-bassoon duo we just heard is by: (a) Haydn, (b) Mozart, (c) Beethoven, (d) Schubert, (e) Schumann, (f) Brahms, (g) somebody else.

SO, LET'S PROCEED WITH THE "LITTLE STORY" --

Some funny things happened on the way through Ives's Holidays

Among which the nicest thing was that
we ran into bass-baritone Gerald Finley

In recital at New York City's Alice Tully Hall, 2012

[photo by Richard Termine/New York Times]

Gerald Finley, bass-baritone; London Symphony Chorus and Orchestra. LSO Live, recorded live in the Barbican, Apr. 29-30, 2005

by Ken

So there we were ("Decoration Day greetings -- with 'old New England'-style memories provided for us by Charles Ives"), making typically (for this operation) unsteady one-step-forward, several-steps sideways progress toward Schumann's Humoreske, the final step in our Radu Lupu remembrance ("We're still targeting Radu Lupu's Schumann Humoreske, but first we're going to detour . . ."). Really, could we let another Decoration Day (probably better known lo this past half-century as Memorial Day) pass without taking note of Charles Ives's holiday musical reminiscence? From which it seemed only natural once and for all to retrace and then complete our circuit of the four remembrance pieces that make up Ives's Holidays Symphony.

It was while I was laboring on that detour down Ives alley that things started going haywire, with one thing leading to another and then another, until by happy chance we were arranging to hear first one and then two Ives songs sung by Canada's Gerald Finley, from the 61 he's recorded on his not one but two Ives song CDs. A fresh encounter with Gerald F seemed an altogether pleasanter prospect than the piling-up Ives craziness, or for that matter the hard-to-penetrate Schumann-piano perplex.

While Sunday Classics can hardly claim Gerald F as an "old friend" of Sunday Classics, we have heard him in some choice musical situations. For example, back when we were remembering conductor Bernard Haitink, and dipped into his 1980 and 2005 live recordings of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, Gerald F was the 2005 bass soloist, and so we've already heard the magical moment I've pulled out above: when the symphony discovered that it could sing!


WE HEARD GERALD F. IN ANOTHER COLLEGIAL SETTING

Quite right, Sir Georg: We'll need to hear not just Haydn's orchestral depiction of "pre-Creation" chaos but the "breathtaking" explosion when suddenly "there was light!"

[PLUS: Some serial aural remembrances of Kurt Moll]

[MONDAY EVENING UPDATE: Now with various sorts of upgrading, to bring the post a tiny bit closer to what I'd hoped to make -- notably fleshing out the section of Moll archival clips, with English text added, along with minimal comments and some non-Moll performances]

CHORUS: "Und es ward licht!" ("And there was light!")
[from "The First Day," in Part I of Haydn's Creation]

"I can think of no other work by any composer in which a single chord comes as such a surprise." -- Georg Solti (see below)

Bavarian Radio Chorus and Symphony Orchestra, Leonard Bernstein, cond. DG, recorded live in the Herkulessaal of the Residenz, Munich, June 1986

Stockholm Radio Chorus, Stockholm Chamber Chorus, Berlin Philharmonic, James Levine, cond. DG, recorded in the Jesus-Christus-Kirche, December 1987

Chicago Symphony Chorus and Orchestra, Sir Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded live in Orchestra Hall, Oct. 29-30 & Nov. 2, 1993

"A personal note by Sir Georg Solti" -- from the CD booklet for his 1993 re-recording of Haydn's Creation

The older I get, the more deeply I love the genius of Haydn, especially his two late oratorio masterpieces, The Creation and The Seasons.

In re-recording The Creation, I was struck by the incredible modernity as well as the startling originiality of so much of the score. To mention just two examples: the opening "Representation of Chaos," with music that so poignantly symbolizes the emptiness and hopelessness before creation; and, immediately thereafter, the breathtaking C major of "Light." I can think of no other work by any composer in which a single chord comes as such a surprise. How completely I can understand the reactions at the first public performance, as my friend Robbins Landon so well describes in his article [a reprint in the CD booklet of a long, wide-ranging background piece by the great Haydn scholar H. C. Robbins Landon].

I was joined in my excitement and passion for this work by all my colleagues, soloists, orchestra and chorus alike. Rarely can I recall such exuberant joy and sheer enchantment as we shared during these Chicago concerts. I hope this will come across to the listener.

[Note: In the first paragraph I've taken the shocking liberty of reversing the order of Sir Georg's reference to the great late-Haydn oratorios, so that The Creation comes before The Seasons, as they did in real life. Is it possible that an editor suggested this to him c1994? I don't think so; I think he'd not only have approved but been grateful. Now I'm afraid it's too late to ask. -- Ed.]

by Ken

I was surprised how moved I was re-encountering this "personal note" from Georg Solti (1912-1997) about his experience re-recording Haydn's Creation -- days after his 81st birthday. In that late period of his life he memorably re-recorded a number of big vocal works that were clearly close to his heart, some of which had gone just fine in his earlier efforts -- I think in particular of Mozart's Così fan tutte and Magic Flute and Verdi's Falstaff; the latter two, notably if possibly coincidentally, are works that as a fledgling conductor in the 1930s he had helped Arturo Toscanini prepare at Salzburg) -- and others, at least to me, not so fine, like Mozart's Don Giovanni, Wagner's Meistersinger, Verdi's Otello -- and The Creation. (Among those happy late-life "big works" recording projects we should note as well Sir Georg's companion recording, this one his first ever, of Haydn's final "big work," The Seasons.)

What's so moving about Solti's Creation note is that it rings so true. "The older I get, the more deeply I love" declarations are so common as to be commonplace as applied to, say, Mozart, but Haydn [seen here as sculpted on the Frieze of Parnassus, encircling the base of London's Albert Memorial -- from the blog London Remembers], not so much. In fact, real imaginative identification with Haydn isn't common at all. A lot of performers you sense approach Haydn's music as kind of like Mozart's only not quite -- an approach that hardly ever works. We can talk about this more after we've heard today's Creation clips.

For those who weren't here for yesterday's preview post ("I won't go out on a limb and say this is the most beautiful bass voice I've ever heard, or this the most beautiful minute-and-a-half of singing. Then again --"), the explosions of light we "heard" above are from the same recordings of The Creation I teased therein, offering their accounts of the remarkable hushed lines uttered by the angel Raphael -- the first singing heard in the oratorio, Haydn's setting of some of the most famous words in the human record, the opening of the Book of Genesis.

The plan for today, in addition to filling in the somehow-missing performer identifications (notably of the bass soloists), was to fill in Haydn's introductory orchestral depiction of the chaos out of which the world would be created. Now in addition, inspired by Sir Georg's personal note, I've realized we also have to continue on a few extra minutes, to hear God conjure up light. I've remade the ready-made audio clips accordingly.

We now hear our "elite" violin concertos in their entirety

As we edge forward with our Mendelssohn "sidebar" -- as I just explained -- it's time to hear these concertos in full.

[TUESDAY UPDATE: You might watch for updates to this post, like the one I just added for the Brahms Concerto.]

Last week ("Rondomania: A quick hit at violin-concerto rondo finales looking back from Mendelssohn to Mozart and Beethoven and ahead to Brahms and Sibelius"), pursuing the Mendelssohn "sidebar" that grew out of the Nov. 28 post "One Sunday afternoon in
August 1943 in Carnegie Hall . . .," we listened to the great chain of violin concertos with rondo finales stretching out before and after Mendelssohn. I said at the time that I'd really like to be able to present those concertos in full. Well, here they are!

This all still needs to be integrated with a mostly written first part that continues the Mendelssohnian thread. And probably it should be improved in all sorts of other ways. I wouldn't hold my breath about that part, though. -- Ken

AGAIN, WE REALLY HAVE TO START WITH MOZART

In our original consideration of the place of the rondo finale in the line of the great violin concertos, we started with Mozart --

• not because he invented either the violin concerto or the rondo or even the use of the rondo in violin (and other) concertos, which he didn't, but because he grasped the possibilities of this combination in a way, or ways, that made it stick.

• and not because Mozart's violin concertos, taken on their own, are equivalent in stature to the line of violin concertos they did so much to inspire. The form -- the Classical concerto, that is, not to be confused with the Baroque one -- was still too new to aspire to that stature. (Thank you once again, Herr Beethoven.)

Not that the three "mature" concertos (which followed with scarcely any separation from the not-yet-mature ones) can't still hold their own on a concert platform. But you kind of feel that the audience needs at minimum a somewhat bigger kick, and the performer has to put out a portion more to earn his/her fee. So, with no disrespect to any of these much-loved works, I'm thinking of them maybe more as a collective than as separate entires in our violin-concerto sweepstakes. (If it were piano concertos we were tracking, I'm not sure I would take the same position. But Mozart's piano concertos come from a more developed stage of his creative energies. There are at least half a dozen Mozart piano concertos I'd consider worthy of inclusion in such a survey.

BUT: We're skipping the Mozart Violin Concertos Nos. 1-2

Rondomania: A quick hit at violin-concerto rondo finales looking back from Mendelssohn to Mozart and Beethoven and ahead to Brahms and Sibelius

UPDATED with assorted touches here and there and at the end some promises of some "Mozart Rondo Bonuses" to come -- and maybe some other goodies.

FRIDAY UPDATE: Hey, what about the Dvořák Violin Concerto? Well, especially since we're focused on rondo finales, Dvořák needs to be here -- has anybody used the form better? (Note, by the way, how closely bunched in time the Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and Dvořák concertos are. Isn't this kind of amazing?)

rondo  n.  Music.  A composition having a principal theme that occurs at least three times in its original key between contrasting subordinate themes.

-- The American Heritage Dictionary of the
English Language, 3rd ed., 1992

by Ken

No, Mozart didn't invent either the rondo (as we know it from the Classical era) or the idea of plunking it into emerging Classical sonata-form forms, let alone the idea of making it the standard way of rounding out the shape of the emerging Classical concerto. In the 1770s, it was just in the air. And if there's one thing that Mozart, growing out of adolescence into young adulthood, was alert to, it was what was in the air music-wise.

We know that he was interested early on in this newfangled kind of concerto that was coming into being. Goodness knows there'd been a ton of concertos in the now-passed Baroque era, but the burgeoning Classical world was developing something significantly different, and the 19-year-old Mozart had a good idea that he could do something with it.


MOZART SURE FIGURED OUT FAST WHAT THE RONDO COULD COULD DO FOR HIM -- AND HE COULD DO FOR THE RONDO

Which is why we're going to start our rondomania quick hit with the binge of concerto-writing Mozart did in 1775. As I mentioned in this week's main post (or, rather, main pre-post: "(Maybe one more little pre-post?) No, these 14 bars aren't The Most Beautiful Music Ever Written; they're what comes right after it"), these audio files were ready to go, and I'm putting them up in raw form so they'll be available for listening. And once the raw form is posted, I can listen to them too, and who knows? Maybe I'll figure out something to say about them.

[NOTE: While I don't usually include dates in composition listings, I've done so here since our vantage point here is the Mendelssohn E minor Violin Concerto and the place of its rondo finale in the line of the landmark violin concertos.]