The Classical Corner

An Early Program Music Master

2008-02-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

Program music is commonly associated with the late romantic era, and especially the work of Richard Strauss and Jean Sibelius. However, J.S. Bach, the Baroque contrapuntal genius, also had a flair for programmatic elements in his music, especially in his vocal compositions.

In the Magnificat in D Major, for example, Bach uses myriad programmatic techniques. For example, in the "Esurientes Implevit Bonis" movement, the alto's accompaniment stops when she sings "inanes" (meaning "empty"). In the "Deopsiut potentes" movement, the minor key, descending theme illustrates the overthrow of depots. Finally, the three themes in the opening "Magnificat" movement all incorporate some sort of upward movement.

These techniques, while clearly precursors to program music, are lacking in a few essential features of classic, late-romantic programmatic writing. First, there are no leitmotifs or recurring motifs. As Baroque music, except operas, had no "characters" this is to be expected. Second, the music supports the words, instead of the words supporting the music. This difference between the Magnificat and, say, Strauss' Till Eulenspiegels is perhaps more serious. However, the basic feature of program music, the story-music connection, is still quite present.

Telemann and the Classical Symphony

2008-02-18T16:40:00.000-08:00

While reading the liner notes to a recording of Georg Philipp Telemann's Suite in A Minor, Concerto for Recorder, and Concerto for Viola, an unassuming passage caught my eye:

"It's likely Telemann preferred to avoid the constraints [of the three-movement Baroque concerto]. By fashioning his concertos in four movements, he could explore more varied musical styles; this stylistic variety was essential to apt characterization of mood and idiomatic use of solo instruments he favored over the usual concerto figuration."

This, seemingly unimportant at first glance, raises an interesting question: did Telemann, usually lambasted for his superficiality, help to inspire the Classical-era symphonic form perfected by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven? The answer seems to be yes.

While listening to Telemann's concertos, something stuck out. There was a genuine contrast in the movements, and each was emotionally unique. For example, take the Viola Concerto. In the opening Largo, there is a genuine mournfulness, especially in the the VIm to IIm chordal cadences. There is a similar mournful quality in the second movement of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony. Granted, Beethoven's work is much more sophisticated, but the roots clearly lie in Telemann. The second and fourth movements of the Viola Concerto have a lively, jovial feel typical of the Baroque era, especially in composers like Vivaldi. However, the fast movements in Telemann are given a special quality due to their contrast with the slow movements. This contrast is, for the most part, lacking in Vivaldi's mainly three-movement concertos.

Also, Telemann's addition of the fourth movement gives both the viola and recorder concerto a slightly larger scope than their other Baroque counterparts. This scope can be seen, fully developed, in works like Mozart's "Jupiter" symphony (No. 41).

So, did Georg Phillip Telemann, prolific but fairly shallow, help to invent the Classical Symphony? I'd say yes.

The Reform Impulse, Part II

2008-02-05T16:10:00.000-08:00

Now, of course, over-complication is not the only reason for reform. The other ingredient, which is much more concrete, is the need for a visionary. Reform in music is generally powered by a few big innovations, not myriad small contributions.

The classic example of this is Beethoven and Romanticism. By stretching symphonic form to its Classical-era limits, Beethoven almost singlehandedly ushered in the Romantic era, which made emotion and drama its top priority.

This reform is also an example of Principle 1. The Classical style was too "simplistic" for the Romanticists. The drama and power of their music needed bigger canvases with less rules; instead of Mozartian sonata-allegro form, Schubert, Schumann, and the other great Romantics painted vast musical pictures, often without regard to "traditional" forms.

Thus, to sum up, reform in music requires two elements:

1. A situation where the means of composition is not fitted to the goal of the work (either the means is too simple for the goal or too complex) and

2. A few select visionaries that are willing to break some boundaries.

One can find examples of this in all eras and genres of music (classical and others).

The Reform Impulse, Part I

2008-01-19T08:24:00.000-08:00

One of the most well-known reforms is that of Christoph von Gluck, who revolutionized the opera seria which was previously the dominant reform in Italian opera. His operas, like he famous Orfeo ed Euridice took the formerly elaborate, dramatic, exaggerated music of the opera and reduced it to a purely supporting role. The text and the storyline, not the music, took precedence.

Thus, in general, Gluck did the following:

1. Identified an problem area where the means were obscuring the goal.

2. Simplified the means, instead of complicating the goal.

So, the first principle of musical reform is:

Reform will usually occur when the elements of a composition are so complicated that they obscure the goal of the composition. This is usually remedied by simplifying the composition.

Good, alternate example: the Viennese Classical Period's simplification of Baroque ornamentation. Music can thus be described as a cycle of simple --> extravagant -->simple.

Worrisome Winds

2008-01-03T12:08:00.000-08:00

I've been listening to orchestral works and wind ensemble works for ages, yet have never been able to fully straighten out the sound difference between the clarinet and the oboe. The oboe sounds "reedier" to me (probably by virtue of its having a double reed) and the clarinet sounds "windier" to me (it has a single reed), but I've often mistaken a clarinet for an oboe and vice versa. Assuming that there are many classical beginners out there who are in a similar quandary, I've dug up a short list of works that can help you make the distinction between these "worrisome woodwinds".

Oboe
1. Albinoni- Oboe Concerto
2. Hadyn- Oboe Concerto
3. Poulenc- Oboe Sonata

Clarinet
1. Mozart- Clarinet Concerto
2. Gershwin-Rhapsody in Blue (check out that intro!)
3. Saint-Saëns- Clarinet Sonata

Both Together
1. Vivaldi- Concerto for Two Oboes, Two Clarinets, Two Recorders, Two Violins, Bassoon, Strings and Continuo
2. Schoenberg- Wind Quintet
3. Barber- Wind Quintet

Bruch and Dylan: The Unlikely Folkies

2007-12-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

Late Romantic string genius vs. mid-'60's counterculture hero. Full orchestral works vs. guitar-harmonica-voice protest songs. Max Bruch vs. Bob Dylan.

So what do they have in common? For one, their pioneering use of folk melodies. Bruck's Kol Nidrei is one of the first pieces from the Romantic period to use a religious melody (from the eponymous Jewish service) in a secular composition. Dylan, in turn, was the first to use folk tunes for rock 'n' roll songs, garnering him widespread notoriety among '60s folk purists.

Just like Dylan, Bruch never thought of the Kol Nidrei theme as a religious theme; it was always just another melody. Before Bruch, religious music was religious music (i.e. the requiems and masses) and secular music was secular music (i.e. everything else). Bruch treatment of the Kol Nidrei combined the two fields, proving that music is always music. Dylan, by his combination of folk and rock, proved that songs are always songs, whether your instrument is plugged in or not.

And, indeed, music is always music. It's nearly impossible to be a purist because genre boundaries are so ill-defined. The hyphens are ubiquitous: folk-rock, baroque-pop, acid-jazz. Max Bruch and Bob Dylan, each in his own way, helped to break down those boundaries.

Goethe and Berlioz

2007-12-30T17:47:00.000-08:00

The connection between the giant of literature and the giant of classical music is not just related to Berlioz's Opus 24, The Damnation of Faust. While that piece is a clear homage to the 18th-century German writer, Opus 14, the famous Symphonie Fantastique, is as inspired by Goethe as the Damnation is.

The Symphonie ostensibly tells an autobiographical tale of Berlioz's love for actress Harriet Smithson. However, the "plot" of the composition has a much closer correlation with The Sorrows of Young Werther, Goethe's first major work. Note, for example, the second movement, titled "Un Bal" and the third movement, titled "Scène aux Champs". The setting of the second is at a dance, much like where Werther first meets Charlotte in Sorrows; the setting of the third is in the country, much like where Werther lives, the fictional town of Walheim. Also, the fourth movement ends with the death of the main character; in Sorrows, Werther commits suicide, while Berlioz did nothing of the sort (he composed many pieces after the Symphonie Fantastique!)

Clearly, Berlioz was influenced by Goethe more deeply than just The Damnation of Faust shows. The whole Romantic ethos, of which Goethe was a pioneer, permeates Berlioz's work. From the tragic timpani rolls of the Fantastique to Les Troyens à Carthage, the drama of Romanticism, inspired by Goethe, is part and parcel of Berlioz and his music.

A Venezuelan Offering

2007-12-29T17:00:00.000-08:00

One of J.S. Bach's most famous interactions with royalty was with King Frederick II of Prussia. During his visit, the King gave the composer a musical theme and asked that Bach improvise a 3-part fugue based on it. Bach did so admirably, at which point the King asked for a 6-part fugue. Bach replied that he would need to work out the score, and two weeks later he sent Frederick the composition known as The Musical Offering, which is comprised of two fugues (known as "ricercars"), ten canons, and a sonata.

While all the pieces, naturally, displayed Bach's brilliance, the canons were particularly notable due to their presentation as "riddles", where Bach would write out just the theme and the performer would have to improvise the other voices. This, clearly, is a feat that very few classical musicians today could accomplish.

Which brings me to today's point/question: should improvisation be an integral part of classical music training?

Venezuelan pianist Gabriela Montero has answered with a resounding "yes", as she has recorded a terrific CD of improvisations based on themes by Bach. Her jazzed-up take on the famous Toccata and Fugue n D minor is especially appealing, and begs the question: with musicians performing the same works over and over, is improvisation the new frontier?

Of course, the traditionalists will argue that the "improvisation" already occurs in a musician's reading of a piece. But for me, hearing pianists like Montero is a breath of fresh air, and a signal that classical training should expand its boundaries.

Strauss Concrète

2007-12-28T18:03:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite works in the classical canon is Richard Strauss' wonderful tone-poem Till Eulenspiegel (1895). The work chronicles the tricks and games of the German folk hero/rogue Till, and his eventual death sentence and hanging. It occurred to me as I was listening to this last night that Strauss' use of the orchestral instruments is very much like a 19th-century version of "musique concrète". "Musique concrète", for you poor souls not in the know, is a modern avant-garde movement that uses natural sounds from the environment as a substitute for musical instruments.

Strauss' work, naturally, uses no recorded sounds like those, but there are myriad sections in Till that attempt to copy natural sounds. Take, for instance, the pounds of the timpani near the end, which is clearly meant to suggest a judges' gavel. Or the strings right before ending reprise of the introduction: their pizzicato notes, which gradually slow down, conjure up a lucid image of a hangman's noose swinging back and forth until it stops.

Strauss, of course, is still is very much in the Classical/Romantic tradition, as he uses the traditional orchestral instrumentation and organization (rondo form, in this case). But it is still (or should I say "Till"?) interesting to note the rudimentary beginnings of a revolutionary art form like "musique concrète".

A Baroque Popularity Contest

2007-12-27T17:57:00.000-08:00

Here's a quandary: why is Pachelbel's Canon so much more popular than Henry Purcell's Three Parts Upon a Ground? Both feature the same basic characteristics: a steady ground bass with notes twice per measure, round-like voices, a I-V-vi-iii-I chord progression, and orchestration for string quartet with continuo. So why is the Canon known to almost every mother, father, and child but Three Parts is really only known within classical/baroque circles? Here are my top three reasons:

1. The Canon (or Kanon, if you prefer) is just prettier. The B minor and F-sharp minor chords are accented, which gives it a poignant, emotional feel. Three Parts, by contrast, uses chromatic tones on those chords which diminishes the minor and poignant feel. The greater poignancy in the Canon probably led to its use as a Christmas standard on radio stations across the world, giving it a huge popularity boost.

2. The Canon is simpler. The Purcell piece uses some complex counterpoint , whereas the Pachelbel composition tends to have a solo in one instrument with backing chords in the others. This has led to myriad transcriptions (especially piano) of the Canon, while Three Parts has stayed more or less as a string quartet (with continuo).

3. The Canon has a shorter name. This may seem trivial, but it is much catchier (and cooler) to say that you like "Pachelbel's Canon" as opposed to "Purcell's Three Parts Upon a Ground". With the latter, you start sounding like a classical music geek (not that there's anything wrong with that).

So, the reader may ask, what is my preference? Well, the Canon is a little too saccharine for my tastes , so I'd have to go with Three Parts. Ask the rest of the world, however, and the consensus would be with the Canon.

Note: If you want to hear an interesting take on the Canon, be sure to check out pianist George Winston's album December. It includes a set of improvised new-ageish variations on Pachelbel's main theme and harmonies.

A Meeting of Electronics and Classics

2007-12-26T18:12:00.000-08:00

In the 20th century, the boundary between classical and so-called "experimental" electronic music began to blur, creating the field of "avant-garde" classical. Earlier today I was listening to a prime example of the avant-garde movement that has quite a winter ambiance: John Adams' Shaker Loops. For you non-cognoscenti out there (not like I'm one), Adams is a modern composer who won a Grammy for his On the Transmigration of Souls in 2005. Shaker Loops, however, dates back to 1978, and is a full-out minimalist piece for string septet.
For me, SL is a landmark composition because it epitomizes the meeting of experimental rock/electronica and classical. It takes motif-based music to the extreme by using a short rhythmic figure for almost the entire piece without changing the melody substantially. Usually this technique is a recipe for boredom, but somehow Adams manages to keep the listener engaged in the world of the music. Even the cover art of my recording emphasizes this: an interesting landscape split into three similar frames. Just like the picture, SL is a journey where each step seems familiar.

A Classical Christmas

2007-12-25T17:08:00.001-08:00

I'm really, truly sick of pop/rock Christmas songs. There's this radio station in Philadelphia, B101, that has a nonstop Christmas tune marathon from mid-November to December. Almost every store in Philadelphia, apparently, plays B101 from mid-November to early December. But the songs- they're sappy, goopy, sentimental, and have almost no musical value. So, in recent years, I've taken a different course: instead of listening to the pop tunes, I've focused on the requiems and masses by the great classical composers. This is much more rewarding. Here are my two favorites this year:

1. GABRIEL FAURÉ: Requiem (1877)

This whole work has a muted, elegant beauty that may skimp on drama but is full of emotion. The choir, especially the tenors and basses, tends to undulate so that the orchestra is first emphasized and then de-emphasized. This augments the Gregorian chant-like quality of the vocals. All in all, a very sublime piece; especially check out the opening Kyrie.

2. LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN: Missa Solemnis (1823)

Beethoven's Missa Solemnis is really the polar opposite of Fauré's Requiem. Whereas the Fauré work is muted and pastoral, the Beethoven mass is fiery and bellicose. This stems partly from Beethoven's radical reinterpretation of the role of the mass. Traditionally, the mass was meant to convey the idea that salvation came from a peaceful, pious life. Beethoven, however, decided that ultimately salvation comes from an epic struggle between good and evil. The Missa Solemnis is the perfect vehicle for this, contrasting placid andantes with warlike allegros. In particular, note the masterful use of the trumpets as pseudo-battlehorns.

Recommended Recordings:
Requiem- check out Robert Shaw's reading with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus
Missa Solemnis- Rudolf Barshai does a superb job with the Russian National Orchestra