 Maurice Ravel b. Ciboure, France, March 7, 1875; d. Paris, Dec. 28, 1937 Valses nobles et sentimentales
Maurice Ravel and Franz Schubert both spent a good deal of time exploring the character of the waltz form, though from very different social perspectives. Schubert approached the dance from the safety of his piano bench, where he was spared the embarrassment of romantic encounter, the hazards of severe nearsightedness, and the awkwardness of standing less than five feet tall in his dress shoes. Ravel, however, twirled the night away at numerous parties where his easy social grace, refined sensibilities, and impeccable fashion sense made him shine despite his short stature. Still, Ravel was impressed by Schubert’s collection of noble and sentimental waltzes and composed his own Valses nobles et sentimentales in 1912, after Schubert’s example. However, unlike Schubert, Ravel did not specify which of the eight movements were to be regarded as noble and which should be considered sentimental. He simply dedicated the entire score to the “delicious and ageless pleasure of a useless occupation.” After a brief but invigorating opening waltz, Ravel brings the tempo down for the second dance, which should be played with “intense expression.” The pace picks up a bit for the opening oboe melody of the third waltz, characterized by colorful parallel harmonies. A surging motif with darker orchestral color pervades the slower fourth waltz. The fifth movement, instead of speeding up, continues at an almost leisurely pace, creating an intimate feeling. The sixth dance whirls by like a twirling teacup, and is succeeded by a hesitation waltz that gathers steam, surges forth, pulls back, and finally takes off again. In the mysterious final movement, the longest of the suite, glinting reflections of music ripple by and then fade away. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart b. Salzburg, 27 Jan 1756; d. Vienna, Dec. 5, 1791 Horn Concerto No. 4 in E-flat Major, KV 495
Mozart continues to make little jokes at Leutgeb’s expense throughout the first movement of this concerto. The violins play a dashing melodic figure in the opening bars, accompanied by long notes from the oboe. From here, the exposition follows a seemingly normal course, but the soloist barges into the fray a little too early, instead of waiting until the orchestra has finished its traditional tour through the primary thematic material. Instead of the jaunty rhythmic idea we heard at the beginning, Mozart provides the soloist with long sustained notes, which previously served as accompaniment and are now revealed as the true main theme. After a series of exciting runs and leaps from the horn, the movement comes to a close, but not without another hint of comedy. This time, as the orchestra is wrapping up, the soloist blithely jumps in again, and for a moment seems to lose his place; appearing as a kind of third oboe from the beginning of the piece. In the second movement, Romance, Mozart gave Leutgeb his opportunity to shine. The properties of the valveless horn of his day made navigating the tricky chromatic turns in this movement a daunting challenge. Such delicate shadings were the province of only the most accomplished musicians, since they required the soloist to find notes not among the natural resonant points of the instrument. Though modern instruments have added tubing and valves to accommodate all the keys, the smooth and expressive playing called for in this movement is still highly prized. Bounding triplet figures mark the hunting themes of the closing rondo, contrasted by a mischievous central section in the closely related key of C minor. A brief cadenza affords the soloist one last chance to steal the spotlight before a series of unexpected harmonic twists bring the concerto to an end. Aaron Copland b. Brooklyn, NY, Nov. 14, 1900; d. North Tarrytown, NY, Dec. 2, 1990 Symphony No.3
Copland’s first austere compositions were flavored with the angular drive and bold incisiveness of jazz, resulting in such distinctive pieces as Music for the Theatre and Piano Variations. At the onset of the Great Depression he adapted a less high brow, more vernacular flavor by exploring American folk traditions in his music. Many of Copland’s best known works were composed during this period, including Fanfare for the Common Man and Hoedown. However, in an attempt to avoid being pigeonholed by critics as a “composer of symphonic jazz” or “purveyor of Americana” Copland refused to incorporate pre-existing folk themes into Symphony No.3, preferring to work with gestures and phrases utterly of his own design. Copland’s opening movement, described as broad and expressive in character, begins with a simply stated theme in the strings, then proceeds in an arcing form through a more animated central section, and ends with an extended coda reprising and expanding on the opening melodic material. Timpani strokes and a brass introduction begin the scherzo second movement, whose main idea is treated episodically by various instrument groupings. Woodwinds commence the central Trio section, the more lyrical subject of which is taken up and carried forward by the strings. The third movement is the slowest and most reflective of the four. The angular lines of its introduction lead to a series of episodes intended to emerge one from the other in continuous flow. In the finale movement, the longest of the Symphony, Copland references his own Fanfare for the Common Man; softly in the flutes and clarinets before brass and percussion take over. The main body of the movement comes forward with a quickly moving theme in the violins, followed by a single bracing chord, flutter-tongued on the brass and piccolos, ushering in a series of earlier themes. In the pounding conclusion, the full Fanfare grandly emerges, closing the symphony on a powerful note. |
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