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The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude – Scarlatti, Sonata in C Major – Clara Haskil
May 12, 2017 in Music | Tags: Scarlatti, Sonata in C Major, The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude | by The Arbourist | Comments closed
Preserved in the 1752 first Venice volume of Scarlatti’s keyboard sonatas, this work likely predated that manuscript source by a year or two. That makes this C major effort a late work, despite the fact that almost 400 more keyboard sonatas would flow from Scarlatti’s pen before his death in 1757. Listening to the work, however, one might believe its joviality and youthful playfulness clearly suggest it was the creation of a young man. But the ever-spirited, forward-looking Scarlatti produced many such pieces, early and late, throughout his distinguished set of 555 sonatas.
Marked Allegro, the Sonata opens with a lively theme whose perky character and sense of joy are, if anything, enhanced by the mostly descending contour. The music effervesces as it moves in light patter about the keyboard, seeming to cackle or giggle in its busy but carefree work. The exposition, which is repeated in accordance with Scarlatti’s usual sonata structure, is quite short, lasting but a minute or so, and is followed by the lengthier development portion of the work. Here the music transforms relatively little and the mood, too, remains quite joyful and light.
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The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude – Crab Canon on a Möbius Strip
May 5, 2017 in Music | Tags: Crab Canon on a Möbius Strip, J.S. Bach, The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude | by The Arbourist | 1 comment
A crab canon (also known by the Latin form of the name, canon cancrizans; as well as retrograde canon, canon per recte et retro or canon per rectus et inversus[2]) is an arrangement of two musical lines that are complementary and backward, similar to a palindrome. Originally it is a musical term for a kind of canon in which one line is reversed in time from the other (e.g. FABACEAE played simultaneously with EAECABAF). A famous example is found in J. S. Bach’s The Musical Offering, which also contains a canon (“Quaerendo invenietis”) combining retrogression with inversion, i.e., the music is turned upside down by one player, which is a table canon.
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The DWR Baroque Interlude – C. Monteverdi – Magnificat
April 28, 2017 in Music | Tags: C. Monteverdi, Magnifcat, The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude | by The Arbourist | Comments closed
Monteverdi’s work, often regarded as revolutionary, marked the transition from the Renaissance style of music to that of the Baroque period. He developed two individual styles of composition — the heritage of Renaissance polyphony and the new basso continuo technique of the Baroque. Monteverdi wrote one of the earliest operas, L’Orfeo, an innovative work that is still regularly performed. He was recognized as an innovative composer and enjoyed considerable fame in his lifetime.
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The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude – Purcell Chaconne in G minor
April 21, 2017 in Music | Tags: G minor, Purcell Chaconne, The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude | by The Arbourist | 1 comment
Very little of Purcell‘s functional music for four-part viol consort survives. Only the incomplete Suite in G major, Z. 770, and the Chacony in G minor, Z. 730, are known. It seems most of Purcell‘s music he wrote as court composer for the Twenty-Four Violins after 1677 involved the voice. It is not known for what exact occasion Purcell composed the Chacony.
“Chacony” is a variant of the English “chacone” and is the same as the French chaconne and Italian ciaccona. It was a relatively new type of composition in England; the earliest known English example is the three-part Chacone by Robert Smith, published in 1677.
Purcell‘s Chacony is restrained and stately, much more suited to dancing than a similar piece by John Blow from the same time, which has intricate contrapuntal sections and shifting accents. Purcell builds his melodies from groups of dotted notes (an aspect of the French chaconne) and the piece is nearly devoid of contrapuntal artifice, making it easy to perceive the rhythms and turns of the melody and ground bass. Apparently, it was intended to be performed without continuo.
Throughout the Chacony we find Purcell stretching the boundaries of traditional dance music while creating an overall structure that is appropriate for dancing. The eight-measure ground is suitable in length for dancing and begins with the typical passacaglia device of descending through a fourth. What is unusual is that in the second measure there is an F sharp and in the fifth, a B natural, both chromatic alterations in the key of G minor. These moments are harmonized with great freedom and imagination each time they occur. Fleeting modulations appear in variations Nos. 6 and 14, in which the ground migrates to the viola and second violin, respectively, while the four-voice texture continues. In variations Nos. 8 and 11, however, the bass drops out and the ground moves upward respectively into the first violin and viola, creating a welcome change in texture. In the Chacony, Purcell employs each of his variation techniques twice, making pairs of variations that create a satisfying, large-scale structure. What is “asymmetrical” about this symmetry, however, is that the corresponding variations are not consecutive, but spread across the piece.
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The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude – J.S. Bach Toccata in E Minor BWV 914
April 14, 2017 in Music | Tags: J.S. Bach Toccata in E Minor BWV 914, The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude | by The Arbourist | 2 comments
Toccata in E minor, BWV 914 Johann Sebastian Bach
Bach’s set of seven Toccatas for keyboard date from 1707-11, just prior to and during the first years of his post in Weimar. During these formative years he experimented with a wide variety of compositional models. Overall, these early toccatas lack the profound expression and technical mastery of Bach’s later music and are thus some of the least performed of his works. All too often, they come off as improvisatory and mere virtuosic pieces for keyboard. Nevertheless, they show the steady growth of one of music’s greatest geniuses.
The Toccata in E minor, BWV 914 is one of Bach’s least known works for keyboard. Most likely composed in either 1707 or 1708, it nevertheless portrays Bach’s developing composition style. The brief opening section of the toccata bears an inconspicuous resemblance to Bach’s later organ works, particularly with the octave leap that occurs repeatedly in the left hand. Furthermore, retrograding chords of the sixth with off-beats in the right hand might remind some listeners of a similar passage in the famous Toccata and Fugue in D minor. A fugato section follows with a lively rhythmic figure predominating. This section does not venture far from the E minor tonality, though its strictness of counterpoint causes it to stand out among the other early toccatas.
The following adagio is highly improvisatory. Arpeggios and scalar passage abound with plentiful embellishments. An extended fugue for three voices forms the final movement. The subject of the fugue, four bars in length, is actually identical to that of an anonymous fugue in a previously dated Italian manuscript. Furthermore, the two fugues share a striking number of similarities. While the composer of this earlier fugue is unknown to us, Bach was quite likely familiar with it at the time he composed his own. Today, Bach’s “version” would without a doubt be condemned as plagiarism. However, during the Baroque, the “recomposition” of another composer’s work was not uncommon and, in fact, considered a form of flattery. Bach’s fugue, however, enhances on the original version, by expanding its harmonic scope and conforming more to idiomatic keyboard writing. Joseph DuBose
Part of Elena Kuschnerova’s all-Bach recital that was released on ORFEO in 2001. Rosette in Penguin Guide 2003/04
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The DWR Friday Baroque Interlude – Claudio Monteverdi’s Duo finale L’Incoronazione di Poppea
April 7, 2017 in Music | Tags: Baroque Opera, C. Monteverdi, L'Incoronazione di Poppea, Pur Ti Miro | by The Arbourist | Comments closed
This is the closing duet from L’Incoronazione di Poppea. Depending on how the how the rest of the choral season goes, I may be singing this piece for my summer recital. Pur Ti Miro, is a beautiful duet. A little background on the opera from which it came from, and of course the libretto.
“Drusilla muses on the life of happiness before her, when Arnalta arrives with a lictor. Arnalta accuses Drusilla of being Poppea’s assailant, and she is arrested. As Nerone enters, Arnalta denounces Drusilla, who protests her innocence. Threatened with torture unless she names her accomplices, Drusilla decides to protect Ottone by confessing her own guilt. Nerone commands her to suffer a painful death, at which point Ottone rushes in and reveals the truth: that he had acted alone, at the command of the Empress Ottavia, and that Drusilla was innocent of complicity. Nerone is impressed by Drusilla’s fortitude, and in an act of clemency spares Ottone’s life, ordering him banished. Drusilla chooses exile with him. Nerone now feels entitled to act against Ottavia and she is exiled, too. This leaves the way open for him to marry Poppea, who is overjoyed: “No delay, no obstacle can come between us now.”[n 10]
Ottavia bids a quiet farewell to Rome, while in the throne room of the palace the coronation ceremony for Poppea is prepared. The Consuls and Tribunes enter, and after a brief eulogy place the crown on Poppea’s head. Watching over the proceedings is the god of Love with his mother, Venere and a divine chorus. Nerone and Poppea sing a rapturous love duet (“I gaze at you, I possess you”[n 11]) as the opera ends.”
| Pur ti miro, pur ti godo, | I gaze at you, possess you, |
| pur ti stringo, pur t’annodo. | press you to me, clasp you. |
| Piú non peno, piú non moro, |
No more pain, no deathly grief,
|
| o mia vita, o mio tesoro. | oh my life, my treasure. |
| Io son tua, | I am yours, |
| Tuo son io, | Yours am I, |
| Speme mia, dillo, di. | My dearest, say you love me too. |
| Tu sei pur l’idol mio. | You are the idol of my heart. |
|
Sì, mio ben, sì, mio cor, mia vita, sì
|
Oh yes, my love, my heart, my life, oh yes. |
“L’incoronazione di Poppea is frequently described as a story in which virtue is punished and greed rewarded, running counter to the normal conventions of literary morality. The musicologist Tim Carter calls the opera’s characters and their actions “famously problematic”, and its messages “at best ambiguous and at worst perverted”, while Rosand refers to an “extraordinary glorification of lust and ambition”.The critic Edward B. Savage asserts that despite the lack of a moral compass in virtually all the main characters, Busenello’s plot is itself essentially moral, and that “this morality is sustained by the phenomenon of dramatic irony”. From their knowledge of Roman history, audiences in Venice would have recognised that the apparent triumph of love over virtue, celebrated by Nerone and Poppea in the closing duet, was in reality hollow, and that not long after this event Nerone kicked the pregnant Poppea to death. They would have known, too, that Nerone himself committed suicide a few years later, and that others—Ottavia, Lucano, Ottone—also met untimely deaths.“
Well, two not very nice people sing a beautiful duet about love and then have untimely deaths. So, definitely operatic material then.
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The DWR Friday Romantic Interlude – Beethoven’s 3rd Symphony, The Funeral March
March 31, 2017 in Music | Tags: Beethoven's 3rd, Eroica, Funeral March, The DWR Friday Romantic Interlude | by The Arbourist | 2 comments
“Perhaps the best reflection of these emotional extremes is the Second Movement, which he titled “Funeral March,” a powerful musical evocation of the massive state funerals then taking place in Paris.
The music suggests the thunder of drums and the roar of the crowd. In this movement, Beethoven explores grief, its public face and its intimate expression.
The oboe solo at the beginning is a personalized and interior expression of grief within a public ceremony. It’s a modern solo in that it has tremendous psychological dimension.
The music is evocative—we can almost see the funeral procession pass before us and ask, What really has died here? Perhaps it is part of Beethoven that is being mourned.
In the years before he wrote Eroica, Beethoven realized he was going deaf, and his initial reaction was terror and shame. He tried to keep it a secret. He couldn’t bear for anyone to know that he—a musician—was not able to hear.
But he came to realize that, as a musician, he could function perfectly well. What really scared him was being cut off from other people, losing the possibility of hearing intimate conversation.
What kind of strange, isolated, lonely, crazy individual was he in danger of becoming? That was the real terror.
As Beethoven’s personal crisis deepened in 1802, he took refuge in the village of Heiligenstadt. He hoped that the quiet of the countryside would bring relief to the distortions in his hearing. And he needed time to get himself together—to face the decision, literally, of whether to live or to die.
In Heiligenstadt, he wrote the most important document we have that reflects the turmoil in his life. The so-called Heiligenstadt Testament is a kind of last will, or possibly a suicide note.
It wasn’t meant to be read during his lifetime. But it reveals Beethoven’s state of mind just before he wrote Eroica. Somehow he found the strength to go on. In the works that follow the Heiligenstadt Testament, he inserted his humanity into the very fabric of the music.”
The second theme always gets me at 30:00. Such struggle, fighting with inevitable fate, such majesty… yeah. There I go again. :>
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