Mozart’s Piano Concerto, K. 414, and Symphony, K. 201 introduction

The K. 414 Piano Concerto (Vienna, 1782, age 26) that opens this  program, and the much earlier K. 201 Symphony (Salzburg, 1774, age 18) share the same tonic key of A Major. Otherwise, the two pieces seem to me to reflect totally different sides of Mozart’s genius. For both these reasons, their pairing on this program seemed an ideal way to consider some of the aspects of Mozart’s early process and progress as a composer.  In the Piano Concerto, I believe the composer sought to embrace the characteristic style of his time, though with his own unique sense of elegance and perfection.  He needed to win over an audience in Vienna that hardly knew any of his music but was familiar with the works of many of his contemporaries.  We do not know what may have inspired the Symphony, but the sense of innovation that permeates all four movements suggests Mozart was consciously  exploring new ground.

The Piano Concerto is full of charm, grace, and elegance throughout its three movements. As if to emphasize these light-hearted qualities, Mozart indicated that the wind parts (2 oboes, 2 horns, typical for the time) are “ad libitum” – that is, the piece may be played as chamber music, with the piano joined just by four strings, or possibly just string orchestra.

In contrast, the eight-years-earlier Symphony is one of a handful of miraculous works by the teen-age Mozart that seem to have burst forth “out of the blue,” as full-blown masterpieces. It is suddenly more mature, more vital, more experimental than almost any work that preceded it.  For this reason it continues to occupy a place in the repertoire of most major symphony orchestras. Perhaps not surprisingly, the wind parts are not just integral to this clearly symphonic piece; they are essential to it.  – James Freeman

Advertisements

Mozart’s Symphony No. 29, K. 201

K. 201 was a remarkable achievement for the 18-year-old Mozart. From the opening measures of the first movement, with the theme immediately repeated in canon between violins and lower strings (“What a beginning!,” exclaims Alfred Einstein, in his Mozart: His Character, His Work,), through the startling wind interjections of the second and third movements, to the high-spirited finale in which a signpost – a dramatic ascending scale – defines the beginning and ending of each of the sonata form structures, this is a piece far ahead of its and the composer’s time!  We do not know what personal event or experience might have inspired such a sudden leap forward.  Possibly Mozart wrote it for himself (and perhaps his father) to show what he could really do as a composer if he were given the chance to express himself beyond what was expected in Salzburg at that time.

I know of no more apt description of K. 201, and its originality, than Einstein’s, written some 70 years ago (1945).

“There is here a new feeling for the necessity of intensifying the symphony through imitation, and of rescuing it from the domain of the purely decorative through a refinement of detail such as is characteristic of chamber music.  The instruments change character; the strings become wittier, the winds lose everything that is simply noisy, the figuration drops everything merely conventional.  The new spirit shows itself in all the movements: in the Andante, which has the delicate formation of a string-quartet movement, enriched by the two pairs of wind instruments; in the Minuet, with its contrasts of grace and almost Beethoven-like violence; in the Finale, an allegro con spirito that is really con spirito, and which contains the richest and most dramatic development section Mozart had written up to this time.  .  . . What an immense distance he had traveled from the Italian sinfonia!“- James Freeman

Translations from the original German are by Alfred Einstein.

Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 12, K. 414

Mozart’s departure from his hometown Salzburg in 1781 was unhappy, acrimonious, and even bitter.  Yearning for the artistic and personal freedom he felt he would never experience in provincial Salzburg, and very much against his father’s vehement protests, he left for Vienna. It was a major turning point in his life, and very much like the classic story of the young man setting out to seek his fortune in the great world beyond.  Even though the Mozart family had famously traveled all over Europe, they had always returned home to Salzburg. Vienna now became the center of Wolfgang’s life for the next ten years until his too-early death in 1791.

Within a year-and-a-half of arriving in Vienna, he had written among other works three new piano concertos, specifically intended to introduce himself as both composer and pianist to Viennese audiences. The first of these three was K. 414, probably written in the fall of 1782. Together with K. 413 in F and K. 415 in C, they were clearly intended as a set, a self-contained group, and were later published together as the composer’s Opus 4.  Mozart indicated that all three, as well as the slightly later K. 449 concerto, could be performed without winds, as chamber music for piano and strings.  He must have wanted these new works for Vienna to reach as wide an audience as possible, offering them as either orchestral or chamber pieces.

Still another sign that he hoped for many performances of these three concertos was that he wrote out cadenzas for each of them, and in K. 414 actually gave the soloist a choice of several different cadenzas and “lead-ins” for each of the three movements.  Mozart usually improvised his own cadenzas, but here he was clearly assuming that many pianists would not have that ability and would be more likely to perform the piece if it included written-out cadenzas.

Two of the three Opus 4 concertos (almost certainly including K. 414) were performed at a subscription concert early in 1783.  K. 414 in particular sparkles magically throughout, just what Mozart felt he needed to introduce himself to everyone in this new audience.  They clearly succeeded as a contemporary report indicated: “Today the celebrated Chevalier Mozart gave a Music Academy for his own benefit at the National-Theater in which pieces of his own composition, which was already very popular, were performed. The academy was honored by the presence of an extraordinarily large audience and the two new concertos and other fantasies which Mr. Mozart played on the Forte Piano were received with the loudest approval.”

Mozart wrote to his father the following.

“These concertos are a happy medium between what is too easy and too difficult. They are very brilliant, pleasing to the ear, and natural, without being vapid.  There are passages here and there from which the connoisseurs alone can derive satisfaction; but these passages are written in such a way that the less learned cannot fail to be pleased, though without knowing why.”

One of the passages that might have evoked recognition and appreciation from the connoisseurs is the principal theme of the second movement.  Mozart quotes here a theme from an orchestral overture by J.C. Bach, J.S. Bach’s youngest son and himself a famous composer at the time. J.C. Bach had befriended the eight-year-old Mozart in London in 1762, and this musical reference to a beloved older mentor, who had died only months earlier, was almost certainly intended as a con amore homage. – James Freeman

Gunther Schuller and Journey Into Jazz

Gunther Schuller was surely the most multifaceted musician (horn player, composer, conductor, educator, administrator, author, jazz player and historian of jazz, and advocate for living composers) of his time, or probably of any time.  At age 18 he was appointed principal horn of the Cincinnati Symphony and later held that position at the Metropolitan Opera.  As one of America’s most important and prolific composers, he was given a MacArthur Foundation “genius” award in 1991 and a Pulitzer Prize in 1994 among many other honors, including ten honorary degrees.  His 1959 orchestral work Seven Studies on Themes of Paul Klee remains a much-performed and especially admired milestone in 20th-century American music.

in 1955 Schuller and pianist John Lewis founded the Modern Jazz Society.  At various times he worked with the Modern Jazz Quartet, Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Mingus, Frank Sinatra, Gerry Mulligan, and others.  He was president of New England Conservatory from 1967 to 1977,  and for many years was closely associated with the Tanglewood Music Center (the summer home of the Boston Symphony), acting as artistic co-director from 1970 to 1984, and creating Tanglewood’s Festival of Contemporary Music.

Schuller guest conducted major orchestras all over the world, including Philadelphia’s Orchestra 2001 which co-commissioned his Concerto da Camera for its concerts in 2002.  (Orchestra 2001’s concerts in 2013 included the premiere performances of his Sonata for Two Pianos, commissioned by Robert and James Freeman. Their recording of the Sonata will be released by Innova Records later this year.)

From 1993 until the end of his life he was artistic director of the Northwest Bach Festival and the Festival at Sandpoint, Idaho.   His books include Horn Technique (1962), Early Jazz  (1968),  The Swing Era (1991), The Compleat Conductor (1998), and an autobiography (2011).

During his years as president of New England Conservatory, Schuller formed the New England Ragtime Ensemble and coined the term “Third Stream Music” to describe works that combine elements of jazz and contemporary classical art music. His 1962 Journey Into Jazz, with text by Nat Hentoff, is a perfect example of that term.  It was first performed in Washington, D.C., May 30, 1962. with the composer conducting the National Symphony Orchestra.

After hearing our performance of Journey Into Jazz, some audience members may be interested to see on YouTube a March 1964 performance of the piece, with the composer conducting the New York Philharmonic, and Leonard Bernstein narrating. – James Freeman

Bright Elegy: Robert Maggio

When Jim Freeman commissioned me to write a work for Chamber Orchestra First Editions, I immediately thought of composing something to honor my mother, who had passed away earlier in the year. Her departure invited me to reflect deeply about what we pass on from generation to generation, and how we might choose to keep the best qualities of our loved ones alive in our everyday words and actions. My mother was a brilliant woman, with a vibrant personality, who was ultimately taken away from us by Alzheimer’s Disease. This music, which is based on a Sicilian lullaby, reflects both the incomparable loss and the burning sense of purpose I feel in the wake of her passing. She was my star, and her radiant spirit will always burn brightly within me.

— Robert Maggio

Mozart, Concerto in G Major, K. 313 – Note by Mimi Stillman

It is my great pleasure to perform with Chamber Orchestra First Editions and Music Director and conductor James Freeman. I have performed with him several times, as soloist with Orchestra 2001 and occasionally as ensemble member, so it is particularly exciting to play with his new orchestra in its second season. I love the programming concept: Mozart and new music, because as a flutist some of the greatest staples of my solo and chamber repertoire are by Mozart. It is Mozart’s music, along with that of Bach, to which I return every season and sometimes every day, always striving to approach its matchless genius.

Mozart wrote the Concerto in G Major, K. 313 in Mannheim in 1778, on commission from the Dutch flutist Ferdinand Dejean, for whom he also wrote the Concerto in D Major, K. 314, arranged from the C Major oboe concerto, and three flute quartets. During his stay in Paris later that year, Mozart wrote his Concerto for Flute and Harp. It is striking how much magnificent flute music Mozart wrote in one year! Despite the documentary evidence and profusion of scholarship on every aspect of Mozart’s life, his two concertos for flute and orchestra are still wrapped in some degree of mystery. Sadly, no copies exist in Mozart’s hand. He usually kept his manuscripts and had a copy made for the commissioner or performers. In this case, however, he might have given his manuscript to Dejean.

In lieu of the autograph of the Concerto in G Major, most editions that strive for authenticity are derived from the first printed edition of 1803. There is every reason to think that this printed edition does not represent Mozart’s actual articulations because it is so much more heavily marked than the autograph score of the Concerto for Flute and Harp, which fortunately does still exist. Studying Mozart’s flute writing in his own hand, which I did for my recent review of the Henle publication of Mozart’s Concerto for Flute and Harp, leads me to adjust some of the articulation in the Concerto in G Major, following the types of slurs and staccato patterns according to my understanding of Mozart’s style.

The two Mozart concertos for flute and orchestra both hold a very special place in my heart. The G Major is the first piece I played for my beloved teacher Julius Baker, the legendary flutist, whose own recordings of the Mozart concertos are inspiring classics. The creative genius of Mozart is on full display in the G Major concerto. The Allegro Maestoso first movement brilliantly integrates stately, lyrical, and virtuosic elements. The Adagio ma non troppo is in the concerto’s dominant key of D Major, a particularly brilliant key for the flute. The flute’s long, cantabile lines bring to mind Mozart’s exquisite operatic writing; this movement is like an aria for flute. The Rondo: Tempo di menuetto combines elegance and vitality, with a contrasting middle section that is poignant in the darker key of E Minor, referencing again Mozart’s vocal writing. I’ve performed the Mozart concerti more than any other concerti in my career, and I never get over my feeling of awe at the sublime greatness of this music. – Mimi Stillman

Mozart’s K. 313 Flute Concerto and the story of his travels in 1777-1778

A STORY OF HIGH HOPES, LOVE, TRAGEDY, AND FINALLY ARTISTIC FREEDOM
Salzburg to Munich
In September of 1777, Mozart left behind his hometown of Salzburg (and his position as violinist in the court’s orchestra) to find a new position as court composer, or Kapellmeister, at one of western Europe’s cultural centers. He was accompanied on this journey by his mother, apparently more to keep him out of trouble than to provide any special assistance. Mozart was 21 years old.

Thanks to the voluminous correspondence during this trip between Mozart and his father Leopold who remained in Salzburg in order to fulfill his own musical duties, we know a great deal about the events, the itinerary, and the emotions of this trip.

The first stop for Mozart and his mother was Munich. He hoped, but eventually failed, to win a position at the electoral court. The enormous difference between Munich’s whirlwind of musical activities, however, and provincial Salzburg began to fuel his growing disdain for his hometown and his reluctance ever to return. After having been turned down by the electoral court because he was too young, he seems for the first time to have hatched the idea of being a free-lance composer, unattached to any court. Leopold quickly wrote to squelch that idea completely. His son’s trip, he said, was designed to find for him a respectable court position. In Leopold’s mind there was clearly something disreputable about a composer without a court position. Wolfgang, a good son and always obedient to his dominating father at this time, acquiesced immediately.

Augsburg
The next stop was Augsburg where Mozart began a strange dalliance with his cousin, Maria Anna Thekla Mozart, the daughter of Leopold’s brother. Their surviving correspondence, now famous for its whimsy, scatological jokes, and constant sexual innuendos, reveals an intimacy of a kind that, as far as we know, was new to Mozart. Was it his first love? Perhaps.

Mannheim
Pressed to continue on with this journey by his father, Mozart and mother then traveled to Mannheim, one of the great centers of music in Europe, where once again he hoped to win a position at court. And once again he was turned down. Mozart, however, quickly made friends with many of the musicians and was happily enjoying himself in their company. He now proposed that his mother return to Salzburg and that he go on alone to Paris, accompanied by some of his Mannheim friends. Leopold would have none of that. The plan was quickly scuttled. Frau Mozart would continue on with Wolfgang to Paris.

The Mannheim orchestra was widely regarded as the foremost orchestra in all of Europe. It was famed for its precision, its remarkable contrasting dynamics, and for providing the basis for a whole school of composers. Nothing like it existed in Salzburg, and Mozart was once again much aware of Salzburg’s limitations.

The K. 313 Flute Concerto and Aloysia Weber
Among his new acquaintances in the Mannheim orchestra was the flutist Johann Baptist Wendling who probably played the first performance of K. 313. The piece was commissioned by a Dutch amateur, Ferdinand DeJean, who asked for several flute concertos and flute quartets from Mozart. While in Mannheim. Mozart managed to complete two concertos, K. 313 in G and K. 314 in D (which he arranged for flute from an earlier oboe concerto in C), two flute quartets (K. 285 and 285a), and an Andante for flute and orchestra (K. 315). It has often been suggested that the Andante might have been intended as a possible replacement for the middle movement of K. 313.

The G Major Concerto, K. 313, on this evening’s program, reflects Mozart at his very best at this time in his life. Full of exuberance, with a sparkling and virtuosic first movement, an elegant Adagio, and a sprightly concluding Menuetto, the concerto belies Mozart’s oft-quoted letter to his father in which he says he has no use for the flute as an instrument. The piece seems more to reflect the composer’s elation at being among good friends and excellent musicians, at being away from Salzburg, and at finding himself for the first time free to write what and when he wished.

It may also reflect the fact that he was in love. Soon after arriving in Mannheim, Mozart met Aloysia Weber, a gifted 16-year-old soprano, and clearly fell under both her charms and the influence of the entire Weber family. (Years later, after moving to Vienna in 1781, he would marry Aloysia’s sister Constanza.) He now devised a plan of accompanying Aloysia on a concert tour of Italy. In letters to his father of February 1778 he went so far as to consider the possibility of marriage. Leopold’s reaction was instantaneous. “I have read your letter of the 4th with amazement and horror. . . . Off with you to Paris! And that soon! Find your place among great people.”

Paris and Tragedy
Off he went to Paris, with mother still in tow. Unfortunately, there were no offers of a position in Paris. At Versailles he was offered the position of court organist, but turned it down, probably feeling that he deserved something more significant, and that if accepted, it would almost certainly mean bringing the entire Mozart family to Versailles.

And then the tragedy. His mother fell ill and died. Mozart was clearly devastated. He wrote first to a friend in Salzburg, asking him to tell Leopold that his mother was ill, in order to prepare the father as gently as possible for the next letter, which would contain the complete story. Mozart then wrote apologetically, “ I could not indeed bring myself suddenly to shock you with this dreadful news.” Leopold was anything but understanding of his son’s own grief. “I told you in May that she ought not to postpone being bled,” he wrote. “You had your engagements. You were away all day, and as she didn’t make a fuss, you treated her condition lightly. All this time her illness became more serious, in fact mortal – and only then was a doctor called in, when of course it was too late.” There is no evidence at all that Mozart was in any way responsible for his mother’s death. He wrote to his father saying, “No doctor in the world could have saved her – for it was clearly the will of God; her time had come, and God wanted to take her to Himself.” We can only imagine the agony Mozart must have felt: his mother had died in his charge, and his father blamed him for her death.

The Return
He left Paris for good in October 1778, finally arriving back in Salzburg in January 1779. Stopping at Mannheim on the way, he found that Aloysia’s interest in him had completely vanished. He then met his cousin Maria Anna Thekla in Munich and possibly traveled with her back to Salzburg, the town he now detested. But that affair apparently had also faded.

Vienna
In 1781 the 25-year-old Mozart left Salzburg for Vienna. He had already acrimoniously resigned his position in Salzburg, despite his father’s vehement opposition. He lived in Vienna for the remaining ten years of his life, largely as an independent composer, unattached to the court. In 1783 he and his new wife Constanza made a brief trip to Salzburg to attempt a reconciliation with his father and sister. But Leopold and Nannerl apparently openly rejected Constanza. Despite a later visit by Leopold to Vienna, during which the father witnessed the height of his son’s impressive success as a free-lance composer, Mozart’s estrangement from his family – previously always a central part of his life – was now palpable on both sides. The early artistic success he had at first experienced in Vienna, especially with the profusion of piano concertos, then faded. And at the end, Mozart may have felt that his father’s declaration that an important court position should be the goal for his son, had not been entirely mistaken.
Leopold died in Salzburg in 1787 at age 67, never really having forgiven his illustrious son for leaving Salzburg and for the independence Wolfgang had found in Vienna. Wolfgang died four years later in 1791 in Vienna at age 35.

(All translations of the Mozart family’s letters are taken from Maynard Soloman’s 1995 masterful book Mozart: A Life.)

Via Cordis: Ingrid Arauco

Via Cordis was inspired by Henri Nouwen’s short, elegant book The Way of the Heart, which explores the teachings of the Desert Fathers. While I do not attempt to reflect Nouwen’s ideas directly in my music, the piece is imbued with a passionate intensity which is my response to his motif of the heart. The music flows in waves, building, cresting, and then receding, only to rise again, until all anxiety is quelled, and all tensions resolved, in harmony. Via Cordis is dedicated with gratitude to Chamber Orchestra FIRST EDITIONS and its Artistic Director, James Freeman. –Ingrid Arauco

A Meeting of Souls: Curt Cacioppo

A Meeting of Souls illustrates Curt Cacioppo’s connection with great music of the western canon.  It originated as a commission from the Carmel Bach Festival for a piece that would substitute the famous “Air on the G String” in their performances of the Bach IIIrd Orchestral Suite, and elliptically is based on that ubiquitous 18 bar string movement.  Cacioppo became so fascinated with the “Air” that he produced two other response pieces, one of which is the finale of his “Fantasy, Air and Rag” triptych for 2 pianos in tribute to J.S. Bach, and “Midsummer Air,” also for the Carmel Bach Festival Orchestra.

Viaje: Zhou Tian

“Viaje”(Spanish for voyage) was commissioned by Dolce Suono Ensemble and premiered by Mimi Stillman, flute and the Dover Quartet in 2015. Mimi Stillman premiered the flute and string orchestra version of “Viaje” with the Chamber Orchestra of the Triangle (NC) in 2016. Experiencing Spain for the first time and learning about the stories of Spanish legend El Cid inspired me to compose this 9-minute thrill ride of bittersweet. I was particularly drawn to the relationship between Cid and his two daughters, as they went through an innocent childhood, separation, distrust, and finally, reunion. I imagined the flute to be the voice of daughters, and the cello representing the voice of father. A musical dialogue between the two emerges in the middle of the piece, as if recalling a long-overdue conversation between father and daughters. It wasn’t until the piece was finished that I realized that I had unconsciously married my musical roots as a Chinese-American with my new found love of Spanish music.

Described as “absolutely beautiful” and “utterly satisfying” (Fanfare), the works of Chinese-born American composer ZHOU Tian (JOH TEE-en) have been performed by major orchestras in the United States and abroad, including the Minnesota Orchestra, the Pittsburgh Symphony, the Indianapolis Symphony, the Houston Symphony, the Hong Kong Philharmonic, and by leading soloists and ensembles such as Yuja Wang, Roberto Díaz, Jason Vieaux, the Eroica Trio, the Arditti and Dover string quartets, the Empire Brass, and the Tanglewood Festival Chorus. His newest work, “Concerto for Orchestra,” (“stunning…tonal and engaging” —Cincinnati Enquirer), commissioned by the Cincinnati Symphony, premiered in the orchestra’s 2015-16 season finale, conducted by music director Louis Langrée. The work was released in the CSO’s latest recording “Concertos for Orchestra” in Fall 2016. Critically acclaimed for his lush and distinctive musical voice, Zhou’s music has been performed at prestigious venues such as Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, and Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, and broadcast on NPR and PBS. His large-scale symphonic suite for soloists, orchestra, and chorus, “The Grand Canal,” was performed during a nationally televised celebration of the 60th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China. He holds music degrees from Curtis (B.M.), Juilliard (M.M.), and USC (D.M.A.), is a first-prize winner of Washington International Composers Competition, and held composition fellowships from Tanglewood and Aspen music festivals. He is an associate professor of composition at Michigan State University College of Music. Visit ZhouTianMusic.com for more.