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Ravishing Rachmaninoff
January 11, 12, & 13, 2008
Click on the  to hear the musical examples.
Hector Berlioz
1803-1869 |
"Hungarian March," from The Damnation of Faust
Hector Berlioz (1803-1869)
Hector Berlioz's father was a physician of some prominence, a man of liberal outlook and broad intellectual interests who undertook most of his son's education himself. He frowned, however, on a musical career for his son and sent young Hector to Paris to study medicine. To his father's chagrin, Hector gave it up at 21 to become a musician instead. He became, in addition, a prolific - though prejudicial - writer on music, musicians, conducting and orchestration. Most of his life he had to make his living by serving as critic for Paris newspapers.
Berlioz was a gifted and innovative orchestrator. He freed the brass from its role as mere accompaniment, making it the equal of the other orchestral sections. He experimented with new instruments, such as the bass clarinet and the valve trumpet. And he virtually put the English horn on the map as the quintessential solo instrument for conveying musical melancholy. He was equally innovative in musical form and in stretching the limits of classical tonal harmony.
One of the foremost advocates of the idea of program music, he developed it as a natural outcome of his belief in the intrinsic unity of music and ideas. For him music and literature were inextricably connected as expressions of the human imagination and affect. Every one of his compositions is programmatic, either as the setting of a text, or musical depiction of a story or literary concept.
Always attracted to grand literary themes, Berlioz read Goethe's Faust in a superb new French translation in 1827. He immediately set eight scenes to music and, with rashness that was to characterize him throughout his life, had the score engraved at his own expense. Later he decided the work was immature and destroyed as many of the printed copies he could find. But he reused some of the material in the oratorio-like Damnation of Faust composed in 1845-46.
Berlioz's approach to Goethe's play was liberal indeed, and the Germans fumed at the liberties he took with their beloved masterpiece. Maintaining that the legend on which the play is based is ancient and therefore in "public domain," he did not hesitate to add scenes that Goethe never dreamt of. In fact, none of the three most popular orchestral excerpts ever appeared in Goethe's play:
Berlioz inserted the "Hungarian March," also known as "Rakoczy March," at the end of Part I of The Damnation of Faust because he liked the melody. He portrays Faust inspecting the troops on parade on the Hungarian plains. The stirring march is named in honor of the aristocratic Rakoczy family, rulers of Transylvania in the 16th-18th centuries, who fought for independence against Austria. It was composed in 1809 by John Bihari and is possibly based on an older tune.  Playing the march was long forbidden in Hungary, where the tune was used as a national air by the independence movement. Liszt also used the tune in the Hungarian Rhapsody No.15. Berlioz makes it a vehicle for some spectabular orchestration with "Turkish" percussion (and harp!), as well as some unexpected syncopation that might have set a few soldiers stumbling over thair feet.
Frédéric Chopin
1810-1849
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Piano Concerto No.1 in e minor, Op.11
Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)
The son of a French father and Polish mother, Frédéric Chopin was born and grew up in Poland; but after the collapse of the Polish revolution against Russia in 1831, he went into exile to France. He settled in Paris, which was then the center for Polish émigrés.
Chopin’s chosen medium was the piano as a solo instrument. In his late teens he did try to unite the piano with the orchestra, creating, in addition to the two piano concertos, the Variations Op.2, Fantasia on Polish Airs Op.13, the Concert Rondo Op.14 and the Grande Polonaise Op.22. He was, however, uncomfortable with the orchestral medium and after age 20 never again wrote for orchestra. In all these works, the orchestral scoring is so light that in the nineteenth century it was fashionable to reorchestrate and “improve” the accompaniment. It is probable, however, that Chopin intended the orchestra to serve merely as a background fabric for the soloist. He himself was known to have had a rather light touch at the piano, and heavy orchestral accompaniment would have drowned him out.
The e minor Concerto, although numbered No.1, was composed later than the second (1830) but was published first. It was premiered in October 1830 in Warsaw, with the composer at the piano. He wrote to a friend the next day: “I was not a bit, not a bit nervous and played the way I play when I am alone, and it went well...”
The opening movement, Allegro maestoso, is in the classical tradition, with a long orchestral introduction in which Chopin presents all the main themes of the movement. When the piano enters, it is with embellishements of these themes. The development too, is in the traditional classical form.
The composer wrote about the second movement, Romance: Larghetto: [it is] “of a romantic, calm and rather melancholy character...a kind of reverie in the moonlight on a beautiful spring evening.” A short orchestral introduction precedes the entrance of the piano, which this time presents the principal theme of the movement. The movement is a standard ABA form, as well as a set of free variations, or fantasy, for the pianist. The middle section presents a contrasting theme in a contrasting mood. The form, however, is less important than the unusual modulations and the pianistic decorations. To balance the introduction, Chopin also provides a substantial coda, yet one more fantasy on the theme.
The finale, Rondo, vivace, is rhythmically related to the Krakoviak, a rapid dance originating around the city of Krakow and considered Poland’s national dance. The opening piano refrain reappears a number of times, separated by graceful, highly ornamented or dancelike melodies.
Although hailed as Poland's foremost composer, less than a month after the premiere of the Concerto, Chopin left Poland, never to return. His solo piano works, however, include numerous polonaises and mazurkas that bear witness to his regard for his native land.
Sergey Rachmaninoff
1873-1943
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Symphony No.2 in e minor, Op.27
Sergey Rachmaninoff (1873-1943)
The premiere performance of Rachmaninoff's First Symphony took place in St. Petersburg in 1897. It was a dismal failure, in large part due to the shoddy conducting of Alexander Glazunov who was, according to most reports, drunk on the podium. The disappointment brought on a severe depression, and for three years Rachmaninoff was unable to do any significant composing. Finally in 1900 he went for therapy and hypnosis to Dr. Nikolay Dahl. The result was one of the first well-known successes of modern psychotherapy, and the composer was able to return to creative work, composing his Second Piano Concerto, which he dedicated to Dahl. However, relapses into depression dogged Rachmaninoff for the rest of his life. And significantly, all his large instrumental compositions, as well as most of the rest of his oeuvre, are in minor keys.
Rachmaninoff refused to publish the failed symphony, and only acknowledged its existence by calling his next one No.2. The Second Symphony was composed in 1906-07 in Dresden, where Rachmaninoff escaped to get away from the social and professional demands put on him in Russia. It took the composer longer to write the first movement than the other three put together; it is also the longest and most intense. Rachmaninoff’s love for the long, romantic phrase made this into a huge, expansive work. It was premiered in St. Petersburg in January, 1908, to great applause, with the composer conducting. It became rapidly one of his most popular works.
The Symphony opens mysteriously, with a somber slow introduction, pianissimo low strings introducing a motto that reappears throughout the work. The first theme is introduced by the violins; it is a variant of this motto but one that becomes urgent and driving. There is an increase in tempo with a climax in the whole orchestra, which quickly dies away. A solo clarinet enters, followed by the other woodwinds with the lyrical second theme, answered by murmuring strings. The tension and passion grow, culminating in a series of climaxes accentuated with a liberal use of the timpani and ending with a passionate transformation of the first theme as a coda.
The second movement, a scherzo, is wild and energetic. Two of its most stunning aspects is Rachmaninoff’s use of hushed fragments of his principal themes to make suspenseful transitions between the large sections and also his use of the glockenspiel. The movement has three major themes, instead of the traditional two. It opens with the four horns in unison declaring the principal theme, a whirling melody. He then abruptly changes the mood and pace, introducing one of his broadly romantic themes on the violins. The next section starts as a sparkling fugue on the violins, the nemesis of every violin audition. Upon the return of the first two themes, Rachmaninoff is said to have inserted one of his trademark musical quotations of the plainchant Dies irae, from the mass for the dead. But in this case, we beg to differ with the traditional analysis. While the melodic shape of the eight-note motive is the same, the important intervals are significantly altered and, in fact, outline the skeleton of first theme rather than introducing symbolic new musical material.
The best word of the beautiful Adagio is lush. Here Rachmaninoff’s melodic talents created one of his most appealing and extended theme, with which Hollywood has unfortunately had a heyday, shredding it into trivialized fragments. It opens with the violas, then the violins in a long string of triplets as an introduction. A lovely clarinet solo gives the seamless theme and sets mood of the movement; the theme is then repeated by the other woodwinds one by one and by the strings, blending into a second, related theme. In this movement, the composer is especially adroit at weaving various themes together contrapuntally, including the theme from the introduction to the first movement, which is finally heard in its original form, but in the major mode, at the movement’s end.
The headlong rush of the exultant Finale, Allegro vivace, is wild and festive, recalling an Italian tarantella. The movement is an expanded sonata form, and Rachmaninoff introduces another broad, lyrical theme for the strings as the second theme. Throughout the movement come fragments of the principal themes of the three preceding movements, woven into the fabric of the new themes. The wild theme returns and the movement ends with a radiant and joyous coda.
Copyright © Elizabeth and Joseph Kahn 2007
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