Symphony No. 6, Le Matin (“The Sunrise”) I. Adagio—Allegro II. Adagio—Andante III. Menuet e Trio IV. Finale. Allegro In 1761 Haydn was hired as vice-Kappellmeister to Prince Paul Anton Esterhazy, head of a powerful family of Hungarian nobility. One of the most appealing features of this position was the court’s fine orchestra of 15 or so good musicians and a lavishly appointed music hall. Haydn put this rich resource to good use, making an immediate impression with a series of symphonies that were later nicknamed Dawn, Midday, and Evening. To Haydn and his employer, the illuminating rays of the morning sun symbolized the Enlightenment ideals of reason, liberty, and equality of all people. The first movement begins with a slow, pulsating introductory figure in the strings that, with the addition of oboe and flute, unfolds to a bright and shining D Major chord. This ushers in the main body of the movement, punctuated by a playful recurring melody on the flute. We are ushered back into murky darkness with a slow series of interlocking chords at the opening of the second movement. Soon the vitalizing warmth of the sun returns in a conspicuous solo for the concertmaster; first with a birdlike call and delicate trills, then, as the other strings softly pulsate underneath, with overlapping arpeggios. A gentle walking tempo is introduced to carry us through the middle part of the movement, where we encounter a dialogue between cello and violin before the suspended low chords from the opening return, bringing us back to earth. A deliciously dark central episode featuring cello and bassoon highlights the dignified outer minuet portions of the third movement. To close the symphony, Haydn gives us a vigorous, if partly cloudy, burst of music. Maurice Ravel b. Ciboure, France, March 7, 1875; d. Paris, Dec. 28, 1937 Concerto in G Major for Piano and Orchestra While the public warmed to Ravel’s music in the heady early years of the 20th century, both the press and academia scorned him. Ravel was perceived as something of a radical by the conservative heirs of the musical establishment; they could hardly hide their alarm when he became the most prominent member of a provocative group of musicians, artists and writers that called themselves The Hooligans (Les Apaches). Ravel’s Concerto in G, written in 1931, is a sparkling vehicle for the composer’s own world-class pianism. The piece was composed after his wildly successful U.S. tour, lasting four months in 1928, during which Ravel indulged his fascination with American jazz and blues styles, much to the eager delight of his audiences. Despite his early rebelliousness, Ravel models this concerto around a classical sonata-allegro form. After a snappy piccolo theme, a series of spotlight-grabbing four-octave double glissandos issue from the piano soloist. Trumpet and snare drum reprise the piccolo theme, underscoring its military character. A sudden slowdown, marked by a plaintive line from the English horn, ushers in the more atmospheric second theme, mysterious and exotic in flavor. The harp and principal horn add eerie solos echoing this style, before the piano gives a moody cadenza, periodically interrupted by overtly jazzy comments—first from the clarinet, then piccolo and trumpet. The piano takes up the idea and spins it into an even more bluesy third theme. Ravel then invites the bassoon to imitate a saxophone, the chugging motive from the end of the first section returns, surging to a jitterbug velocity, and the exposition winds up with flashy passages from the piano. The second movement directly reflects the Classical elegance of Mozart through a poignant piano melody shaded with expressive harmonic subtlety. Flute and English horn have their turn singing the long lines of the theme before the movement is done. The third movement sputters to life like a carnival ride. The composer includes a wickedly technical solo for bassoon in the middle section, propelling the movement to its closing jumps and twirls. Sergei Prokofiev b. Sontsovka, Ukraine, April 23, 1891; d. Moscow, March 5, 1953 Romeo and Juliet, Ballet Excerpts The Montagues and Capulets The Child Juliet Dance Romeo at Juliet's before Parting Romeo at the Grave of Juliet Morning Dance Aubade Folk Dance Masks Death of Tybalt Shakespeare’s story of “star-cross’d lovers” Romeo and Juliet had been the subject of earlier ballets, but when the renowned Imperial Ballet of St. Petersburg approached Prokofiev in 1934, he was eager to put his own musical signature on the romantic play. Prokofiev created three orchestral suites from the ballet score, as well as ten piano pieces. His music frustrated the dancers, in part because of artistic differences between Prokofiev and the original choreographer, Leonid Lavrovsky. The composer wrote that, “owing to the peculiar acoustics of the Kirov Theatre and the need to make the rhythms as clear-cut as possible for the dancers, I was obliged to alter a good deal of the orchestration.” The Montagues and the Capulets introduces the violent drama between two warring families with a boldly dissonant opening crash, which careens into a menacing dance between the medieval knights of the play, then segues into a slippery pas de deux for Paris and Juliet. A tenor saxophone adds orchestral color to the closing bars. The Child Juliet does a quick dance in the next selection, pausing now and then for flowery reflection. A Dance of five couples is next, followed by Romeo at Juliet’s before Parting; a tender portrait of teenage love, all the sweeter if forbidden. Ardor gives way to the many shades of grief —despair, bitterness, and rage vividly intensified by a brassy central section — in Romeo at the Grave of Juliet. From there the mood lightens with a kind of miniature suite of three dances: an ebullient Morning Dance, followed by an Aubade, a merry little sunrise serenade employing solo violin with keening trumpets for Italian country flavor, and the familiar Folk Dance, a heel-kicking tarantella. Masks depicts young Juliet and Romeo at a costume ball. The Death of Tybalt begins with an unexpected mixture of flamenco-like stomping and deft swordplay, contrasting with the villain’s lurching funeral procession that leads to the grand yet grim climax. |
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