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Program notes

Tonight ProMusica presents a rare opportunity to hear Mozart’s first and final symphonies, works that will take you to the outer limits of this iconic composer’s orchestral world. With the First Symphony we experience the 8-year-old wunderkind’s virgin run with the genre, while the 41st, among the great symphonic achievements of the classical era, represents Mozart at his compositional peak. In between, two concertos by two other highly gifted musicians—the beloved Violin Concerto of Mendelssohn and the premiere of Joshua Roman’s Double Concerto for Violin and Cello, featuring the composer as cellist. It’s going to be an evening to remember!

 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791): Symphony No. 1 in E flat, K.16
Instrumentation: two oboes, two horns, harpsichord and strings
Composed: London, 1764
Premiered: London, February 21, 1765
Duration: 13 minutes

THE SCOOP:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was the ripe age of eight when he produced a symphony for the first time. Though he had composed little of consequence to this point, he was certainly no newcomer to the concert stage, having two years back already dazzled queens and princes as a prodigy violinist and pianist. The E flat Symphony was written in London, while the family was on tour and where Mozart’s father, Leopold, his only music teacher to this point, was being treated for a throat infection. Naturally, Mozart had to find inspiration in the work of others, so he looked to the music of his father, whose compositional abilities he would swiftly surpass, and CPE Bach, son of the great composer who was in London at the time of the Mozarts’ stopover there. There was also the music of the Italians who had more or less invented the genre, an outgrowth of the opera overture. At this stage of its development, the symphony was comprised of three movements—fast slow fast—and this, then, is the pattern Mozart took as his model.

Given his youth and compositional inexperience, it comes as no surprise that Mozart’s themes lacked true profile or revealed the working out of ideas. His material is largely scaler or triadic, simply constructed, and his ideas carried out by gentle and attractive harmonic progressions. Nevertheless, the score demonstrates a talent already possessed of a mature concept of pacing, balance and orchestration. It is believed that Leopold aided his son with some of the finer details, but whatever the case, the eight-year-old upstart quickly made good use of whatever knowledge he gained and built upon it. Thus, Mozart was launched into the world of the classical symphony, a genre still in the relatively early stages of development and which he would do so much to single-handedly develop.

The two outer movements are in the key of E flat (the finale in a sprightly tripping 3/8 meter), the slow middle move in the dark key of C minor, a key Mozart would turn to over the years as home to some of his most profound musical thinking. Is it mere coincidence that this movement contains a horn theme—Do-Re-Fa-Me—that would return as the opening subject of the finale for his very last symphony (heard at the close of tonight’s program)? While we are years away from the sophisticated scores we associate with Mozart’s meteoric talent, we nevertheless must marvel at the youth’s initial jump into symphonic waters.  And while we’re at it, we might reflect upon what we ourselves were achieving at the age of eight!

 

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847): Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in E minor, Op. 64
Instrumentation: violin soloist, pairs of flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, trumpets and horns, timpani and strings
Composed: 1844
Premiered: Leipzig, March 13, 1845
Duration: 26 minutes

THE SCOOP:
What would prove to be Felix Mendelssohn’s final significant orchestral work was conceived in the year 1838, while the composer was also at the helm of one of Europe’s most prestigious musical institutions, the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Given the extent of Mendelssohn’s tireless musical activities, which included composing in nearly every genre, traveling as a soloist and conductor, founding the Leipzig Conservatory, and championing lesser-known composers, among them J.S. Bach, Schubert and Schumann, he would have had a strong feel for the violin concerto landscape. Such repertoire included concerti by Beethoven, Ludwig Spohr (who knew Beethoven and mentored the young Mendelssohn) and especially the contributions of violin virtuoso Giovanni Battista Viotti, who arguably exerted the greatest influence on violin playing during the first quarter of the 19th century. Nor did Mendelssohn’s E minor Concerto mark his first experience writing a violin concerto. His earlier attempts, however, remained unpublished, several of which were products of a thirteen-year-old prodigy, one of the few composers whose early works could compare with those of the young Mozart. Thus, by the time the supremely accomplished twenty-nine-year-old found the inspiration for his latest offering, he was in full command of a compositional technique that placed him among the greatest of living composers and was as well-acquainted as any living musician with all matters musical.

After pitching the idea for a concerto to his long-time friend and Leipzig concertmaster, Ferdinand David, Mendelssohn chipped away for the next six years, during which time he consistently consulted with the violinist about technical issues (it speaks to Mendelssohn’s character that although he played and understood the instrument perfectly, he still desired the input of a highly valued colleague). For whatever reason the concerto required so much time to complete, the finished product was well worth the wait. It received its premiere in 1845 and was immediately recognized as an invaluable contribution to the violin concerto repertoire (those works of Spohr and Viotti, on the other hand, have long since vanished from the concert stage).

Mendelssohn was, by nature, no revolutionary. While he imbued his scores with the uniquely personal gifts of inspired melody, stirring harmonies and an unsurpassed sense of orchestration, he was largely pouring new wine into bottles produced during the Classical era. But with his concerto, Mendelssohn actually offers up some new ideas with respect to formal outlines. Among the most unusual gambits occurs at the very beginning, where the violinist jumps in immediately rather than being preceded by an expansive orchestral instruction. Rather than provide the opportunity to allow the soloist room to create or even improvise a cadenza (soloist alone), Mendelssohn chose to write out his cadenza in full (featuring extended ricochet string crossings). This passage also serves as a bridge to the recapitulation, though tradition held that the cadenza be placed toward the end of the first movement. And finally, all three movements are played without pause, with the bassoon serving to connect the first and second movements.

Innovations aside, it is on account of its expressive qualities, excitement and exquisite craftsmanship that Mendelssohn’s concerto has remained a favorite of violinists and audiences alike. A year before his death, the celebrated 19th century violinist Joseph Joachim, who played for Mendelssohn at his entrance to the Leipzig Conservatory and for whom Brahms wrote his own concerto, summed up what Mendelssohn’s concerto meant to his instrument’s repertoire. Having acknowledged that the greatest of all was Beethoven’s, the seriousness of that of Brahms and Bruch’s being the most seductive, the violinist’s violinist admitted that “the most inward, the heart’s jewel, is Mendelssohn’s.”

 

FROM THE COMPOSER
Joshua Roman (b. 1983): Confluence
Composed: 2020
Premiere: Columbus Ohio, April 2020 with composer as soloist

THE SCOOP:
I caught up with cellist-composer Josh Roman via telephone while he was at Santa Barbara’s Music Academy of the West, where he was awarded a residency from the Squire Foundation to live while composing this work. We at ProMusica thought it would be an interesting twist on our program notes to invite you, our audience, into Josh’s compositional process, so I conducted two interviews: first when Josh was still forming ideas about the concerto and then again several weeks later to see how things were coming together:

Part I (January 8, 2020):
Marc: Hi Josh! Good to hear your voice! So…when is “our” new piece supposed to be finished?

Josh: I should double check (!) but I think it’s due February 1, which means I have to have my stuff to the copyist before that. So I’m looking at finishing it up in the next few weeks. I’ll meet with Vadim in early February and there’s always a chance I’ll revise some of it after that, but the goal is to get it as complete as possible by then. I’m basically composing for the same size group as my earlier concerto for ProMusica—chamber orchestra, this time with two percussionists, horn and harp.

Marc: How far along are you as we speak and can you give us a sense of the work’s structure?

Josh: It’s just a single movement, though it will have clear sections—I think it will last about 16 minutes. I am trying to work out the plan of how it all fits together but I don’t want to force it into a specific structure and I actually already have far more material than will end up going into the piece. In the process of trying things out I’ve had, for example, some beautiful little songs come out of it. There’s a lyrical section in the middle, for instance, but some of what I hear is not quite what I’m looking for for this piece, so maybe it’ll get used somewhere else. Just yesterday I actually found the sound I’m looking for in one of the sections—it’s a balance between looking for things and letting things evolve, but yesterday it all became much clearer, so now it’s a matter of working it out.

Marc: Can you communicate your source of inspiration for the piece? In other words, what are you trying to relay to your listeners in this music?

Josh: If you remember my earlier concerto, it was very thematically driven and all about relationships, relationships ending and what one might learn from that. The central movement was a fight like one would have in a relationship. Now that I also have a violinist as a soloist, I wanted to create a true partnership, something reflecting that partnership and love. Mostly I’m looking at the two instruments and asking myself, “What are the strong characters of each, how do they learn to learn to work together, and what’s both beautiful and challenging about what they do?” Musically I’m letting that guide the piece. At this stage I don’t have a title and I’m trying not to get caught up in any extra-musical meaning. I think of it as a double concerto but as a genre that seems a little too grand, given its overall size. Who knows? As the deadline draws closer, some of these things may change so let’s talk again in a few weeks and I can share how things have developed.

Part II (February 3, 2020):
Marc: Hello again, Josh! I’m assuming you’re still in Santa Barbara? So tell me where things stand with the new piece? February 1 has come and gone. Are you finished?

Josh: Actually I’m presently in New York where we just performed my quintet Tornado and I’m headed to Oklahoma sometime next week. I’ve had a death in my family so things haven’t progressed as quickly as I’d hoped. Certainly things have changed since the last time we spoke. I have reached the double bar but the revision process began as soon as my first draft was complete so I’m now refining various layers of the piece.

Marc: Any specific setbacks?

Josh: As a matter of fact, I had found what I thought was an attractive theme but the longer I obsessed over it, the more I came convinced I didn’t write it. After a few weeks I figured it out….it wasn’t an exact quotation but let’s just say it had strong similarities with one of the most popular TV show themes from the last ten years (I won’t name which one!). I was absolutely horrified and had to go back and discard most of the elements that made it similar. So that was a minor setback.

Marc: Well, I’m glad you discovered it before you got sued for plagiarism. Wow, just think of the headache—dare I say migraine—that would have given Janet!! And if any audience members recognize it we’ll just assume they’re watching too much TV! So when do you plan to coordinate with Vadim?

Josh: I’ll be in Chicago next month so we decided to wait until then, by which time I’ll have a complete piano score. I’ll be sending him things before then and will also run stuff past other violinists so that when I meet with him it won’t be the first time I hear it on the violin. At this point the whole piece is basically finished, though in this last stretch there is a possibility that small things may still be tweaked. Presently it exits as a partially orchestrated score, with some passages more fully orchestrated and others simply notated as clusters of harmonies or percussion rhythms in the margins and so on.

Marc: Have there been any major changes or revisions since we last spoke? And can you tell us how the overall structure is shaping up?

Josh: Yes, I came to realize that some sections were simply too complicated for what I was trying to communicate. The music was basically too active…upon reflection I realized it wouldn’t be the last piece I would write and that I was simply trying to do too much. So I let go of a lot of conflict between the soloists and have created something simpler and more harmonious or concordant. The overall structure is built of three parts: the middle section is the heart of the work, which I think of a pool of rejuvenation, something very peaceful; concerto opens with an energetic spinning out of an idea that literally lands in this beautiful contemplative middle portion or pool; and the third section, which is dancelike, builds on what happens earlier—it borrows from the playful opening and then builds up steam to an exciting finish. So overall, the work reflects a very organic progression. I’m still playing with how to integrate the almost impressionistic accompaniment of the opening with the melody that floats over it but I’m very happy with where the piece is and am confident it will be beautiful and expressive.

Marc: Josh, I think I speak for the entire orchestra when I say we are excited to collaborate with you again and after our conversations, I’m particularly eager to hear the finished product come April. Good luck with your final revisions. And don’t spend too much time in front of your TV before we meet up again on stage!

 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Symphony 41 in C Major, K. 551 “Jupiter”
Instrumentation: flute, pairs of oboes, bassoons, horns, trumpets, timpani and strings
Composed: 1788
Premiered: unknown
Duration: 29 minutes

THE SCOOP:
This evening’s concert provides us with a rare opportunity to appreciate how far Mozart traveled musically in the less than 35 years granted him. Given that his first work of substance, his Symphony No. 1, was composed at the age of 8, that left the Salzburg-born composer 27 years to mature into one of the world’s most prolific, influential and beloved composers. Whether opera, concerti, chamber music, choral works or symphonies, he achieved unprecedented heights with every genre in which he worked. When we listen to his 41st Symphony, we should keep in mind what a typical “classical” symphony sounded like around the mid-18th century—it by and large remained simple entertainment—and how far it developed in Mozart’s hands. And then we might wonder where it might have gone from there, had he been granted another decade’s time to work?

As we learned earlier in the season, his last three symphonies were composed in the short span of a number of weeks during the summer of 1788, during which time he also dispatched two piano trios and a violin sonata. Being consumed with a single work for weeks or months at a time is typically enough for most composers, yet to juggle them all simultaneously and bring them to completion is little short of miraculous. And this doesn’t even speak to the particular heights Mozart achieved with the last symphony he would ever compose. To detail these achievements here would require a book chapter, and those have been written. So beyond the fact of its stunning “Mozartness,” its arresting melodic turns and perfectly balanced contours, simply hint at what you’re about to hear. The outset of the opening Allegro vivace reveals that Mozart was pursuing a grand concept, featuring quick dynamic outbursts at the start, military-style rhythms and expansive secondary material. Beyond the extensive development, Mozart then recapitulates softly and in the “wrong” key of F major, before returning for yet more development (listen for the long chromatic descent in the cello and basses) until finally setting matters “right.” The slow movement, Andante cantabile, is again crafted in sonata form, providing more weight and seriousness of approach than what was commonly found in slow movements of the period. It should not go unnoticed that Mozart chose the key of F major here, that of the false recap heard earlier. Beyond the vintage grace we have come to expect from his scores, listen for the unusually dark and anguished harmonies of the development. The character of the Menuetto is that of a Ländler, an Austrian country dance, not the aristocratic minuet typical of such movements. Here again, chromaticism—listen for the winding lines of the solo winds—finds its way in, a characteristic not often associated with Mozartean charm, but which permeates many of his late scores.

Everything points to the finale and indeed there has been a trend in his later symphonies to assign ever-increasing weight to the last movements. To drive his point home, Mozart not only opens with a fugue but provides five different themes throughout the course of the movement (most sonata-form finales rely on two!). Beyond the various fugal passages embedded in, yes, another sonata-form movement, Mozart delivers the piece de résistance as a coda, combining all his melodies into a grand fugue worthy of Bach. The great musical encyclopedist Sir George Grove summed matters up: “it is for the finale that Mozart has reserved all the resources of his science, and all the power, which no one seems to have possessed to the same degree with himself.”

Listening to the symphony as a whole, but particularly the finale, we might easily conclude that Mozart must have known this would be his last symphonic offering. Why else crown his work with such a towering achievement? The fact is, we don’t even know why the last three symphonies were composed. Opportunities to have such works performed were drying up for the composer, who had long outlasted his child-prodigy status and was often looking elsewhere for venues (Prague, for instance), and there are no extant records of any concerts featuring his last symphonies performed in Vienna or elsewhere. In the end, there is the sad possibility that Mozart never heard this music performed. Given such circumstances, it’s tempting to imagine the 31-year-old simply set out to challenge himself, to attempt to do what had never been done before (or since) within a symphonic setting. Once achieved, there was nothing left for Mozart to do but return to the world of opera, where there remained a living to be eked out. Of course, this is pure speculation and we can only wonder what might have been the result had the opportunity to create just one more symphony presented itself. To be certain, yet another miracle.

© Marc Moskovitz
www.marcmoskovitz.com

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