Margarete Danzi, Fanny Mendelssohn and Luise Adolphole le Beau

Entry 2

For my second entry this unit, I listened to a CD of music for violin and piano by female German composers from the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. The composers ranged from the well-known Fanny Mandelssohn to the lesser known Margarete Danzi and Luise Adolphole le Beau. At the time that these works were composed, women were not seen as capable of being serious composers. The women were composing solely for their own enjoyment and not trying to push music's boundaries as were many of their male contemporaries may have been. None of these women were well-known for their composing during their life.

Margarete Danzi was deeply involved in the music scene of eighteenth century Germany. Her father was a singer and theater manager and was, for a brief time, a student Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's father, Leopold. Later she married composer/musician Franz Danzi. During her life she was better known for her work as an opera soprano, though she also enjoyed composing.

The work presented on the disc was her Sonata for violin and piano. It is in a standard ternary form, with the movements marked Allegro, Andante, and Allegretto, respectively. The opening Allegro is in sonata form with no noticeable deviation from standard practice. The chord changes are effective, but not particularly inventive. This movement does have two noteworthy moments of interest. One of the themes from the exposition makes use of groups of ascending grace notes. This effect reminds me of the technique used by many jazz and blues musicians today of sliding into a note. Also, trying to fit all those extra notes in between the main notes creates some off-kilter rhythms that add the excitement of the piece. Later in the piece, just before the recapitulation, there is a melody in the violin that sounds like a direct quotation from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's "Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen" aria from The Magic Flute. Whether this was intentional on the composer's part, I cannot say, but it was certainly a fun moment for me as a listener.

The second and third movements of the piece follow in predictable fashion. The Andante (which is taken at a slightly faster than expected tempo by the performers on the recording) is in ABA form and features a singing melody in the A section and some peculiar harmonies in the B sections. The third movement is characterized by a continual switching of roles between the two instruments. At times the violin will play a melody over an accompanimental piano part and then suddenly switch to playing double-stops in an off-beat accompaniment pattern while the right hand of the piano takes over the melodic function. Such equality between parts was common in the Classical period and is especially prevalent throughout this work.

While well put together and an over-all pleasant work, the sonata lacks the melodic inventiveness and varying accompaniment that can characterizes much of Mozart's work—who Danzi is clearly writing in the shadow of.

Chronologically, the next piece on the CD was an Adagio for violin and piano by Fanny Mendelssohn, the best known of the three women presented. This is due mostly to that fact that she was the sister of the prodigious Felix Mendelssohn—she gave only one known public performance and most of her works have still not been published. Perhaps surprisingly, I did not find this work as enjoyable as either of the other women's works. Unlike her backwards-looking brother, though, Fanny's work is in a style more contemporary of the time period. It is obvious that Fanny was well acquainted with the Romantic style of the time. To describe this work as sentimental would be an under-statement. From the opening piano notes there is an overwhelming sense that the composer is trying to portray a sense of longing or perhaps nostalgia. Either way, the sentiments seem forced and insincere.

Mendelssohn uses one dramatic device more than any other during this piece. This device is the chromatic scale, which pervades the piano accompaniment. Most obviously are the twin moments in which the pianist's right hand plays slow up, down, and back up the scale for three full octaves, while the violin plays a wistful line above. Though certainly dramatic, this gesture feels contrived and meaningless. The short work is made to feel long due to its repetitive nature. As the piece nears its conclusion, Mendelssohn breaks the chromatic scale into shorter bits that recur incessantly until the piece finally comes to a close. In music, perhaps a famous name can be as useful as talent in becoming well-known.

The last piece was by Luise Adolphe le Beau, one-time pupil of another famous female composer, Clara Wieck Schumann. Her Sonata for violin and piano, op. 10, like the Mendelssohn work, is dripping with sentimentality. In its standard fast-slow-fast ternary form, the second movement is by far the sappiest. It is marked Andante cantabile, which is a perfect description of the soaring, emotional melody that dominates the movement. Dramatic dynamic shifts and gentle rhythm rubato make this work characteristic of its time period. Unlike, Mendelssohn, though, this work seems inexplicably more sincere in its emotional nature. She does not rely on stock musical motives (like the chromatic scale), instead the lines have a natural, solemn grace. Nonetheless, the piece lacks any distinguishing features that might make it appealing to repeated listenings.

These ladies, though obviously talented, were not given a lot of respect during their lives, nor were they given the kind of opportunities to grow and thrive afforded to their male counterparts. Therefore, their works tend to be shallow, repetitive, and not unique among the huge amount of music produced in that period. Nonetheless, these women undoubtedly paved the way the many successful female composers in the 20th and 21st centuries. Many of these women were also teachers who taught their craft and enthusiasm for music to the younger generation. With all these factors in mind it is tricky to decide whether or not these works deserve to be a part of the classical Canon.

In a way these women are pioneers—doing work not often performed by their gender—but musically this description does not really work. A musical pioneer must do things that were unheard of by previous generation. They must question the conventions and re-evaluate the status quo. These mavericks change the musical landscape and shape future music to come. The work of maverick composers have a timeless quality and deserve to be performed on a continual basis. For that reason, the works of the women should not be included in the Canon. While their lives should not be forgotten, their music should be viewed in a historical context only.

Coleridge-Taylor - The Song of Hiawatha Overture & others

Entry 1

Perhaps because of its geography, England's musical style throughout history has been distinctly different than the majority of music coming from the European mainland. This island's music has been more pastoral, humorous and light-hearted than the music of Germany, Italy or France. This description does not apply to the music of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor. His music sounds more passionate and alive than any of his contemporaries from England, from Gustav Holst to Ralph Vaughn-Williams.

I listened to a CD of several orchestral works by this black English composer. The first piece on the recording is from his The Song of Hiawatha, op. 30, a cantata that Coleridge-Taylor composed gradually from 1898 to 1900. The bulk of the piece consists of three songs, but I listened only to the instrumental overture.

The piece is a large ABA structure, where the B section is a development of motives from the primary theme. This form is one of the most often used structures throughout music, but Coleridge-Taylor keeps it interesting by making the other musical aspects exciting and fresh. The overture is stunningly brilliant with dazzling flowing melodies, lush chords, dramatic orchestrations and loud volumes.

The piece begins serenely with harp arpeggios and sustained chords, as a four-note motif is passed around between strings and winds. This motif develops into a placid melody that appears to fade away until the timpani and horns introduce a gentle rhythmic pulse that brings in the first glorious statement of the melody, which is then passed through various instruments in the orchestra, often accompanied by a new counter-melody in another instrument. The main melody is simple and folk-like, and it glides along on a lilting 6/8 rhythm. In fact, this melody is derived from the spiritual “Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen.” The melody is mostly pentatonic, giving it a familiar quality that makes it almost immediately memorable. He was introduced to this spiritual melody by Frederick Loudin's Jubilee Singers who where touring Europe at the time. The use of this melody shows an attempt by the English composer to connect with his African heritage and the newly freed slaves from America.

In the development section, Coleridge-Taylor does not let the melody's simple nature trap him. He instead develops small fragments of the melody mostly through modulation and changes in orchestration. The beginning of the development section actually seems to go in reverse. The early part of the development section features a more abstracted version of the theme than the later part of the section, where an exact statement of the opening melodic fragment passes around the group while modulating upwards. This motion prepares the audience for the recapitulation to come, and further preparation is given when the distinctive horn and timpani rhythm from earlier give a clear marker of the triumphant return to the main theme.

The use of the pentatonic melody gives this work an accessible quality. This scale is used in many types of folk music. It is interesting to see the influence of African American music on this English composer. Coleridge-Taylor was composing less than fifty years after the American Civil War and must have felt a kinship with the enslaved Africans that were now free.

Besides a catchy melody, two other important factors come into play to make this a compelling work. The first is Coleridge-Taylor's use of rhythm. For instance, the introduction to the piece is clearly in 4/4 time, but when the horns and timpani signal the main theme, they propel the work into a gliding waltz with a 6/8 feel. By establishing the 4/4 time first, he creates a sense of syncopation when the triple meter begins by shifting the strong beats to an unexpected place. Though the rest of the piece stays in triple feel, it maintains a great deal of rhythmic interest through use of syncopation and unusually accents. The piece has overwhelmingly dance-like qualities that come from a strong rhythmic drive. This seems to be a characteristic of much of Coleridge-Taylor's music. Most of the other pieces on this CD are in some way related to dance—three works bear the label suite and another is a set of “characteristic waltzes.” One of the most notable of these in terms of rhythm is the second movement of Petite Suite de Concert, op. 77. It is called “Demande et Response” and, in addition to a lovely melody, it includes some wonderful syncopations. Specifically, there is a short section in which there seem to be three distinct rhythmic pulses occurring simultaneously: a main melody in the violins and flute, an off-kilter pizzicato accompaniment figure in the lower strings, and off-beats from the horns. The effect is a jarring one that feels jerky and disconcerting. It was a moment that piqued my ears immediately and begged for a re-listen, despite the fact that the moment lasts less than twenty seconds in a five-and-a-half minute piece.

The last important feature of this Coleridge-Taylor work is his lush chord voicings and brilliant orchestration, as seen in the piece's introduction. The listener is immediately transported to a unique world with sweeping harp arpeggios and sustained woodwind chords. Melodic fragments in the violins, oboes, and horns seem to float effortlessly above this. The introduction of the timpani brings on ominous thoughts, as does the militaristic rhythm that follows, but those anxieties are quickly quelled when the singing main melody enters. The repetitive nature of this short theme is thwarted by his striking orchestration—simply stating the next period in a different instrument (but always the perfect instrument to create appropriate contrast and blend). Throughout the work, his chords are thick and warm, and the frequent textural shifts kept me listening intently for the whole eleven minutes of the piece.

The Song of Hiawatha is considered Samuel Coleridge-Taylor's masterwork, yet few people know the name of this composer. Two of his white classmates at the Royal Conservatory of Music, Gustav Holst and Ralph Vaughn-Williams, are very well-known. In my opinion, though, the work of these men does nearly match Coleridge-Taylor for his emotional depth. All three of these composers exploited folk melodies of different sorts and were able to orchestrate in colorful ways, but Coleridge-Taylor is the only one that speaks to me on an emotional level. His music, though occasionally light in texture, is never light-hearted. His music is full of passion and emotion. For this reason, I do believe that his music deserves a place in the Canon. In addition, I believe that the Canon deserves a more diverse representation of humanity. Coleridge-Taylor was one of the first significant composers of color and his contribution should not be over-shadowed.