Mozart & Tchaikovsky Program notes

Concerto in C major for Flute, Harp and Orchestra, K.299

Wolfgang Amadè Mozart

Born January 27, 1756 in Salzburg, Austria | Died December 5, 1791 in Vienna, Austria
World premiere: undocumented, but probably Paris in April 1778

Mozart was the first to write a concerto for these two instruments
His commission was from a French nobleman who played flute and whose daughter played harp
Lightness and elegance make for magical interplay between the two soloists

The decade that Mozart spent in Vienna has received an extraordinary amount of attention, with good reason. Landmark studies such as Maynard Solomon’s Mozart: A Life, H.C. Robbins Landon’s Mozart: The Golden Years and Volkmar Braunbehrens’s Mozart in Vienna delve deeply into both the sociology and historical facts of Josephine Vienna and Mozart’s place in that fascinating cultural kaleidoscope.

While there is no question that Mozart’s greatest masterpieces poured forth in abundance during these final years of his tragically short life, the attention focused on Mozart in Vienna has diverted music lovers from wonderful music he composed before his move there. Despite his growing dissatisfaction in the employ of Archbishop Hieronymus Colloredo, the Salzburg years of the 1770s were enormously fruitful for him, as chronicled in the late Stanley Sadie’s important book Mozart: The Early Years (1756-1781), published in 2006.

In particular, Mozart’s months in Mannheim and Paris in the late 1770s yielded some fine pieces for woodwinds. Virtually all Mozart’s flute works are concentrated during this period: two solo concertos, four quartets for flute and strings, and the concerto for flute and harp we hear at these performances, are all roughly contemporary.

An ill-fated trip

Twenty-one-year-old Wolfgang and his mother left Salzburg for Paris via Mannheim late in 1777. Wolfgang hoped to secure a permanent position in Mannheim (the seat of the Elector of Palatine) or in the French capital. A position in either city would provide an alternative to and release from his duties to the Archbishop in Salzburg. When it became clear that long-term opportunities in Mannheim were limited, mother and son proceeded to France.

Once in Paris, Wolfgang sought to establish a clientele of aristocratic pupils and to garner enough commissions to justify the cost of the trip – and then some. Unfortunately, his hopes were not to be realized. Parisian music patrons proved disappointingly indifferent to his talent. Even worse, his beloved mother fell ill a few months after their arrival, and died in early July 1778. Her death was a cataclysmic blow to the entire Mozart family and pivotal in Wolfgang’s emotional development.

Upon their arrival in early April, Wolfgang and his mother contacted the Austrian Baron von Grimm, a family friend residing in Paris at the time of the visit. The Baron arranged for their introduction to a number of French nobles. One of them, the Duc de Guines, was an accomplished flutist who promptly engaged Mozart to teach composition to his teenage daughter. Though Mlle de Guines lacked any substantial gift as a composer, she was a superior harpist, and the Duc soon commissioned Mozart to write a concerto for flute and harp. Ironically, no documentary evidence has survived to indicate that Mozart was ever paid for the commission, another example of the many disappointments growing out of the Parisian sojourn. But the work that survived has paid audiences again and again, for it is a delight.

Mozart was a pioneer in writing a concerto for this pair of instruments. In so doing, he gave the harp literature arguably its finest work from the classical era.

The harp of Mozart’s day was far less sophisticated than the instrument we see in symphony orchestras today. During the eighteenth century, harps did not yet have the technical means to alter pitch and increase chromatic capacity through pedals. Mozart consigned the harp largely — but not exclusively — to an accompanying role, relying on keyboard-like figurations, particularly arpeggios. He endowed the flute with the bulk of the melodic interest in the concerto.

The peculiar appeal of this wonderful concerto lies in the gossamer flirtation of flute and harp, and in the delicate scoring that supports the two solo instruments. The work is unique among the Mozart concertos: understated and immensely appealing. As Abraham Veinus has noted:

This is one of Mozart’s soft-spoken concertos. The harp for Mozart was a deft and delicate instrument, and the color relationships between the two solos are mainly of a sweet and subtle pastel variety. . . . Despite the quiet and relaxed tone of this work, it is remarkably rich in color and entrancingly subtle in its sonorities.

Instrumentation: two oboes, two horns, solo flute, solo harp, and strings.

Gloria in G for Soprano, Orchestra & Chorus

Francis Poulenc

Born January 7, 1899 in Paris, France | Died January 30, 1963 in Paris
World premiere: January 21, 1961 in Boston.
Charles Munch led the Boston Symphony Orchestra and Chorus Pro Musica. Adele Addison was the soprano soloist.

Poulenc’s lighter side merges with spirituality in his Gloria
This is one of three major sacred choral works he wrote in his final years
He thought of the Gloria as “a large choral symphony”

Of all the sections in the traditional Roman Catholic mass (Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, and Benedicamus), the Gloria has attracted the most composers over the centuries. Within the liturgy, this second musical part of the mass is variously known as the Greater Doxology, Angelic Hymn, and Hymn of Praise. “Greater Doxology” may fit its formal religious context, but the latter two subtitles seem vastly more appropriate to the celebratory joy that accompanies musical settings of the Gloria. Whether incorporated into a full mass or as an independent musical work, the Gloria text inspires music of extroversion and joy combined with faith.

Francis Poulenc’s Gloria, one of the most important contributions to sacred choral music in the twentieth century, adheres to some aspects of Gloria tradition. For example, the brass fanfare of the opening heralds a festive, majestic atmosphere. On the other hand, Poulenc takes a very personal view of the Gloria text. Abrupt shifts in tempo and mood occur from one movement to the next, and several movements are startlingly brief. He uses the four-part chorus and the soprano solo with great imagination. The brilliant spectrum of woodwind and brass colors sparkles in Poulenc’s instrumental preludes.

When Milan’s Teatro alla Scala presented Poulenc’s opera Dialogues of the Carmelites in 1957, the new work’s success provided a big boost to the French composer. Not long afterward, the Koussevitzky Foundation asked him to write a major new work as a memorial tribute to Serge Koussevitzky and his second wife, Natalie. In a January 1962 speech, Poulenc recalled the circumstances of the commission:

First they asked me for a symphony. I told them I was not made for symphonies. Then they asked me for a concerto — an organ concerto. I told them I had already written one and I didn’t want to write another. Finally they said, `All right, then do what you like!’

He was indulging a strong personal interest in setting the Gloria, for it is one of three major sacred choral works he composed in the last five years of his life. In a way he accommodated the Foundation, because he described the Gloria as a “large choral symphony.” He completed it in December 1959; Charles Munch conducted the premiere in Boston in January 1961.

The work consists of six movements, three of which include the soprano soloist. All of her music is slower, focusing on the more spiritual and emotional aspects of the Latin text. The chorus, on the other hand, shifts gears throughout, navigating a broad sea of tempos and atmospheres. In particular, the second (Laudamus te) and fourth movements (Domine Fili Unigenite) are exceptionally light and springy. Sandwiched between more sombre and dignified sections, their emphasis on the sheer joy of faith comes as something of a surprise. The composer offered this explanation:

I had in mind those frescoes by [the Florentine Renaissance painter] Gozzoli where the angels stick out their tongues. And also some serious Benedictine monks I had once seen reveling in a game of soccer.

Despite the diverse character of the individual segments, Poulenc’s Gloria holds together because of his vibrant musical language, and because of the soprano part. During an era when the avant-garde tore ever more aggressively at tonal harmony and construction, Poulenc adhered loyally to tradition – with a strong French accent. His piquant harmonies complement his rich melodic gift. In the Gloria, both chorus and soloist have their share of vintage Poulenc tunes, but it is the soprano who has the ethereal, heavenly last word in the luminous finale.

Instrumentation: three flutes, three oboes, three clarinets, three bassoons, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, harp, mixed chorus, soprano solo, and strings.

Serenade for Strings, Op. 48

Pyotr Ilich Tchaikovsky

Born May 7, 1840 in Votkinsk, Viatka district, Russia | Died November 6, 1893 in St. Petersburg, Russia
World premiere: A private performance by professors and students at the Moscow Conservatory took place on November 21, 1880.
The first public performance took place on October 18, 1881 in St. Petersburg.

Tchaikovsky intended the Serenade’s first movement as a tribute to Mozart
He was a master of the orchestral waltz, as the second movement demonstrates
Listen carefully to the Elegy, which transforms the waltz theme
Two Russian folk songs are the basis for the finale
At the end, Tchaikovsky restates the Serenade’s first movement theme

In October 1880 Tchaikovsky wrote to his patroness, Nadejhda von Meck:

My muse has been so kind that in a short time I have got through two long works: a big festival overture for the Exhibition, and a serenade for string orchestra in four movements. I am busy orchestrating them both.

The first piece was the bombastic 1812 Overture; the second was the delightful serenade we hear. It is difficult to imagine two works further apart in spirit and taste.

The composer’s letters make it clear that he focused his creative energy on the Serenade. He had composed the overture tongue-in-cheek, and knew that his reputation would gain far more from the Serenade. To his publisher Peter Ivanovich Jürgenson he wrote: “I am violently in love with this work and can’t wait for it to be played.” Tchaikovsky’s original conception was midway between symphony and string quartet or quintet. His restriction of the performing forces to strings alone is the only remaining vestige of small ensemble texture, for he specified in the score that he wanted the largest number of strings possible.

Critics have pointed out that the Serenade is uneven in quality, and that the Waltz has been played separately so often that it has become hackneyed. Still, live performance restores the music’s freshness. We are reminded why this piece entered the repertoire immediately upon its premiere, and has retained considerable popularity. Even Anton Rubinstein, Tchaikovsky’s former teacher and severest critic, came to like the Serenade.

Straightforward and sunny in temperament, the Serenade overflows with memorable melodies in all four movements. Strong thematic connections link the first and the last movements; the inner two movements are also thematically related. Descending and ascending scale patterns figure prominently in Tchaikovsky’s themes, and more than one Russian folk melody is incorporated into its fabric. Frequent double-stopping in the strings contributes to the lushness of the Serenade’s sound; Tchaikovsky counters this in places with doubled parts, thereby reducing the number of polyphonic lines. His string-writing throughout is masterly, and contributes to the Serenade’s place as one of his finest compositions between 1878 and 1885. No other nineteenth-century work for strings alone has become so firmly entrenched in the orchestral repertoire.

All four sections of the Serenade have their special moments. The first movement, which bears the subtitle Pezzo in forma di sonatina [piece in the form of a sonatina] is peculiarly reminiscent of a Handelian overture, though Tchaikovsky intended it to be more akin to Mozart’s style. It is framed by a rich, grand slow introduction that returns at the end after a lively middle section whose length — the movement takes ten minutes — belies the “sonatina” of the subtitle. Tchaikovsky’s second-movement Valse is a delightful reminder of his brilliant gift for ballet music; at the same time, darker moments in the middle section call to mind the weightier, metaphysical waltzes of Chopin and Brahms.

Tchaikovsky’s Elegy recaptures some of the grandeur of the slow introduction. His finale is pure Russian folk music, with the subtitle Tema russo attached to the first part and the spirit of balalaika dancing driving the pace of the Allegro con spirito.

Instrumentation: string orchestra