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.

Dittersdorf - Sinfonias 1-3 "on Ovid's Metamorpheses"

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.

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.