Entry 2
The second work that I listened to was by a composer I had never heard of, Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf. The pieces were the first three sinfonias out of a collection of six subtitled “on Ovid's Metamorpheses.” This book was a collection of myths, and each sinfonia appears to relate to a specific story. This recording was released by Naxos Records and features the Failoni Orchestra of Budapest under the direction of Hanspeter Gmur.
In terms of form, these works, like the Mozart, are not groundbreaking. All feature four movements, ending with a minuet and a lively finale. The second two begin in the standard way with an allegro (though not necessarily in sonata form) first movement followed by a slow second. The first sinfonia contains these same elements but reverses their order. It seems that Dittersdorf was influenced by Hadyn due both to the form of the works and the abundance of surprising occurrences.
These works really impressed me with their variety and contrast. I had never heard Classical era music with this sort of drama, variety, tension and excitement. Dittersdorf's music is dramatic in its emotional shifts, sometimes going from lively, excited and major to quiet, contemplative and minor almost instantaneously.
The first sinfonia starts with a stately and placid Larghetto before going to the Allegro e vivace second movement. I expected this movement to be in sonata form, but it is in fact in rondo form. These two movements are not particularly innovative, but they do show that this is not just cookie-cutter symphony; Dittersdorf obviously put a great deal of thought and work into this piece.
The slow movements in the second and third sinfonias are of particular note because of the grace and beauty they contain. These two pieces are also notable for the fact that they each feature a solo instrument with orchestral accompaniment for the movement's entirety. A person listening to the second movement of the second sinfonia might wonder if they are in fact listening to a bassoon concerto (or a flute concerto in the third work).
Surprises are to be found everywhere in these works. Sinfonia no. 1's final movement features contrasting sections that change from frantic and loud to calm and peaceful without any sort of cue. The second sinfonia begins with a slow crescendo that grabbed my attention. Once the crescendo reaches its loudest point, Dittersdorf immediately drops the volume, but increases the tempo! This is quite an unexpected turn of events. Later in the movement, a fairly peaceful melody is viscously interrupted by loud tremolo chords from the strings, but this scary moment passes quickly to make way for another tranquil melody that will inevitably grow to an exciting level. This is a diverse movement that clearly illustrates Dittersdorf's ability to stun and dazzle the audience with dramatic on-a-dime shifts of style.
Another remarkable moment occurs in the last movement of the second sinfonia. Normally, one would expect a lively, spirited ending, but Dittersdorf is too clever for that. This movement seems almost out place because the tempo is fairly reserved and in a minor key, but it is actually the most musically compelling. It is full of drama and tension, big swells in dynamics keep the listener off-kilter, and the lovely melodies fill the listener with unavoidable melancholy. My favorite part of this movement occurs about halfway through. The strings play dramatic chords in tremolo for two measuress, but then suddenly drop in volume and begin play an off-beat accompaniment figure for to measures that to my twentieth century ears, can only describe as “jazzy.” For the two measures of the off-beats, the winds play a dramatic chordal swell. The strings then re-interject the tremolo chords, and this trading section begins again for several more repetitions.
Not all of the music is so novel, though. The first movement of the third sinfonia features a dance-like melody that is neither particularly surprising or interesting. This movement feels rather dry. The movement that follows, though, brings back Dittersdorf's inventiveness. The movement sounds as though it could have been lifted from a flute concerto because it features a solo flute playing the melody for the entirety of the movement. What makes this movement interesting to me is its stratification. The flute melody is long and sustained, with many whole notes, but the string accompaniment parts include long sections with sixth note scalar runs. In some ways it feels as though there are two tempos occurring simultaneously (this is by no means Nancarrow or Cowell, though). The following minuet movement, though, leaves something to be desired.
In fact, the third movement seems to be a weakness for Dittersdorf. None of the minuets from these sinfonias are compelling. Unlike Mozarts' lively scherzos, these triple-meter movements evoke a stately and gentle dance. None have very memorable melodies, nor do they contain unique harmonies. This may be one indication of why Dittersdorf is not well-known today. Though he was certainly talented and creative, he was perhaps not the most complete composer in terms of his ability to write in any style. Drama seems to be his forte, not dance music.
The final piece on the CD (the fourth movement of the third sinfonia) is a great note to end on (so to speak). It is diverse in its musical language. The short movement starts cheerfully with rising chords accentuated by a slow crescendo. The tension continues to build as Dittersdorf adds big low-to-high rips in the horns, and then later as he continues the rising but adds striking dissonances. The short movement continues to build, but suddenly at the two minute mark, Dittersdorf drops the dynamic drastically and replaces the joyfully melody with a sustained tone from the horn. The last thirty seconds of the movement are in complete contrast to what came before. The piece ends soft and melancholy—a surprise for the Classical era to say the least.
Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf is not a well-known composer today. This is a shame because these piece make it obvious that he was a talented and inventive composer. Though he worked in the contemporary style of the time, he did so with a great deal of creativity. Nonetheless, I do not think that any of these works are by any means “required listening.” Hadyn and Mozart were equally interesting and, for whatever reasons, history has chosen them as the masters of their time. Dittersdorf's music deserves to be heard and preserved on occasion, but to put it in the standard repertoire of regularly performed music would be unnecessary. As noted earlier, these works are not amazing in all respects. His dance movements are boring and none of his melodies have the soaring, singing quality of Mozart's lyrical lines. Over saturating the Canon with the works of long dead musicians who would not be able enjoy their success would be unfair to the many great new composers whose music is already being under-heard and under-played. With recordings now available, this music will survive as an obscure curiosity that will reward dedicated musicians who are willing to dig past the surface of the standard musical repertoire.
Listening to this music definitely made me think about the music of the classical era in a slightly different way. Often times, music listeners of today are lead to believe that Hadyn and Mozart stood uncontested as the great composers of their times, and that all others were simply imitating them. It is easy to forget that the eighteenth century was one of the richest musical periods ever, and that the level of talent was deep and far-reaching. Dittersdorf was one of probably hundreds or thousands of talent active composers from the period.
For me the most interesting and useful aspect of this music are the works' endings. The second and third sinfonias both end quietly. I have been led believe that Classical era audiences expected a rousing, happy conclusion to the music so that they could clap loudly, shout and holler, but Dittersdorf does not give this to them. I can imagine a performance of the third sinfonia at the time in which the music comes to a conclusion and the audience remains completely silent, too caught up their own melancholy thoughts to cheer. I love those moments at concerts, and Dittersdorf must have as well.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Mozart Concerto for Flute and Harp, K. 299
Entry 1
The piece that I listened to was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Concerto for Flute and Harp in C Major, K. 299. I listened to several recordings of this work, but my favorite featured Julius Baker (flute) and Hubert Jelinek (harp) with an orchestra conducted by Antonio Janigro.
This work is standard for the time in terms of its ternary form—three movements, following the standard fast-slow-fast formula. The first movement is an allegro in sonata form, the second is slow and lyrical, and the third is lively and in rondo form. Really, I probably could have said all this after seeing the title alone—the piece is not original in that sense. Similarly, the key relationships in these movements while not quite standard are highly uninventive. The opening movement starts and ends in C major, though it does modulate a bit during the development. The last movement follows this same trend. Normally, one would expect the middle movement to be in the dominant key, but this one is actually in the sub-dominant key of F major. This music could by no means called adventurous. The three movement form and simple harmony indicate that this is fairly early work in Mozart's career.
Overall, I found this work to be quite pleasant and, at times, engaging even, but the piece as a whole is not exceptional. Here, Mozart is, as always a master melodist. The lines are beautifully shaped, but these are not some of his most memorable themes. The beginning of the main theme from the slow movement comes to mind as being particularly enjoyable, but the tune soon meanders into rather standard sounding phrases.
Though the melodies are unremarkable, what is really unfortunate about the piece is the that Mozart does not take complete advantage of his material. The harp of Mozart's time was not as complex as it is today. The double-action harp used today was not invented until 1810, so the harpist who originally performed this work was limited in terms of harmonic possibilities. The harp part has very few notes outside of the C major scales—mostly F# and Bb. Because of this the development section in the first movement is not as interesting as it could be with a fully chromatic instrument. One of the most fun things about the music of the Classical era is its harmonic instability and constant modulation. The use of the harp in some ways seems to be like a set of handcuffs on Mozart's wrists.
I think my favorite part of the piece is the part Mozart did not write—the cadenza. I am a sucker for beautiful, virtuosic harp playing. Even though all of the cadenzas I heard were pre-composed, the improvisatory nature of this section was exciting to me. The piece's key of C major also allows for the musicians to show off. The cadenza is the longest segment in the piece where the flute and harp play as a duet without the intrusion of orchestral accompaniment. This wonderful, exciting music, but this is the part of the piece most dependent on the performers. The section could easily be boring for any number of reasons in the hands of lesser musicians.
The special thing about this work is the combination of flute and harp. It is a pair capable of making truly beautiful sonorities. The two instruments share a delicacy and sweetness that make them particularly suited to “pretty” music. Another advantage is the ability of the harp to fill the accompaniment role. This allows for a great amount of orchestrational possibilities because the flute and harp are able to play as a duet without the need for the orchestra to accompany. There are also moments in which each instrument acts as soloist with orchestral accompaniment and even some brief solo harp moments. The orchestration of much Classical era music seems uninventive to my modern ears and is one of the things that often hinders my ability to enjoy these works. By using a the harp as accompanist, Mozart is able to create huge timbral shifts that break up tiresome sound of an entire orchestra playing the whole time.
Of course, Mozart's place in the Canon is large and well-secured. He has works of all different genres that are played by many musicians today. These include works for solo piano, operas, chamber works of various sorts, as well as numerous works like this for one or more soloists with orchestral accompaniment. So does this work deserve to be added to the vast forest of the standard repertoire? In my opinion, no, it does not. Perhaps it deserves to be played on occasion when a flautist and harpist really want to play a Mozart concerto together. No one needs to go out of their way to hear this piece, but if subjected to it a listener would not suffer too much. These are catchy melodies, but when one hears such lines one cannot help but think, “Mozart.” The themes seem vaguely familiar, as if pieced together from fragments of other melodies I have heard in Mozart's works.
The overwhelming majority of music that I listen to for pleasure was written in or after the twentieth century. I do desire to be a well educated musician, so I have been trying to expand my musical tastes backward. As a composition major, I know that there is a great deal to be learned from studying these older works, but I often find it hard to relate to these works. The composers obviously did not write for the twentieth ear. This piece is incredibly long for its relative simplicity. It is these types of observations, though, that I know will ultimately help me as a composer. Mainly, these thoughts will help guide my choices as to what not to do in my pieces. Perhaps twenty-five minutes locked solidly in the key of C major is just a little too much time.
The piece that I listened to was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Concerto for Flute and Harp in C Major, K. 299. I listened to several recordings of this work, but my favorite featured Julius Baker (flute) and Hubert Jelinek (harp) with an orchestra conducted by Antonio Janigro.
This work is standard for the time in terms of its ternary form—three movements, following the standard fast-slow-fast formula. The first movement is an allegro in sonata form, the second is slow and lyrical, and the third is lively and in rondo form. Really, I probably could have said all this after seeing the title alone—the piece is not original in that sense. Similarly, the key relationships in these movements while not quite standard are highly uninventive. The opening movement starts and ends in C major, though it does modulate a bit during the development. The last movement follows this same trend. Normally, one would expect the middle movement to be in the dominant key, but this one is actually in the sub-dominant key of F major. This music could by no means called adventurous. The three movement form and simple harmony indicate that this is fairly early work in Mozart's career.
Overall, I found this work to be quite pleasant and, at times, engaging even, but the piece as a whole is not exceptional. Here, Mozart is, as always a master melodist. The lines are beautifully shaped, but these are not some of his most memorable themes. The beginning of the main theme from the slow movement comes to mind as being particularly enjoyable, but the tune soon meanders into rather standard sounding phrases.
Though the melodies are unremarkable, what is really unfortunate about the piece is the that Mozart does not take complete advantage of his material. The harp of Mozart's time was not as complex as it is today. The double-action harp used today was not invented until 1810, so the harpist who originally performed this work was limited in terms of harmonic possibilities. The harp part has very few notes outside of the C major scales—mostly F# and Bb. Because of this the development section in the first movement is not as interesting as it could be with a fully chromatic instrument. One of the most fun things about the music of the Classical era is its harmonic instability and constant modulation. The use of the harp in some ways seems to be like a set of handcuffs on Mozart's wrists.
I think my favorite part of the piece is the part Mozart did not write—the cadenza. I am a sucker for beautiful, virtuosic harp playing. Even though all of the cadenzas I heard were pre-composed, the improvisatory nature of this section was exciting to me. The piece's key of C major also allows for the musicians to show off. The cadenza is the longest segment in the piece where the flute and harp play as a duet without the intrusion of orchestral accompaniment. This wonderful, exciting music, but this is the part of the piece most dependent on the performers. The section could easily be boring for any number of reasons in the hands of lesser musicians.
The special thing about this work is the combination of flute and harp. It is a pair capable of making truly beautiful sonorities. The two instruments share a delicacy and sweetness that make them particularly suited to “pretty” music. Another advantage is the ability of the harp to fill the accompaniment role. This allows for a great amount of orchestrational possibilities because the flute and harp are able to play as a duet without the need for the orchestra to accompany. There are also moments in which each instrument acts as soloist with orchestral accompaniment and even some brief solo harp moments. The orchestration of much Classical era music seems uninventive to my modern ears and is one of the things that often hinders my ability to enjoy these works. By using a the harp as accompanist, Mozart is able to create huge timbral shifts that break up tiresome sound of an entire orchestra playing the whole time.
Of course, Mozart's place in the Canon is large and well-secured. He has works of all different genres that are played by many musicians today. These include works for solo piano, operas, chamber works of various sorts, as well as numerous works like this for one or more soloists with orchestral accompaniment. So does this work deserve to be added to the vast forest of the standard repertoire? In my opinion, no, it does not. Perhaps it deserves to be played on occasion when a flautist and harpist really want to play a Mozart concerto together. No one needs to go out of their way to hear this piece, but if subjected to it a listener would not suffer too much. These are catchy melodies, but when one hears such lines one cannot help but think, “Mozart.” The themes seem vaguely familiar, as if pieced together from fragments of other melodies I have heard in Mozart's works.
The overwhelming majority of music that I listen to for pleasure was written in or after the twentieth century. I do desire to be a well educated musician, so I have been trying to expand my musical tastes backward. As a composition major, I know that there is a great deal to be learned from studying these older works, but I often find it hard to relate to these works. The composers obviously did not write for the twentieth ear. This piece is incredibly long for its relative simplicity. It is these types of observations, though, that I know will ultimately help me as a composer. Mainly, these thoughts will help guide my choices as to what not to do in my pieces. Perhaps twenty-five minutes locked solidly in the key of C major is just a little too much time.
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