Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

Overture No. 3 in D Major

Scored for two oboes, three trumpets, timpani and strings

Although we possess a good amount of information about the Brandenburg Concerti of J. S. Bach, it is his other major set of orchestral works, the Orchestral Suites, that has been most baffling to scholars. Although several different versions of the suites exist, there is no single copy of any part of them in Bach’s own hand. Because of this it has been difficult to date them precisely. It is believed that Bach wrote more of these orchestral suites, but the four that have survived could have been written anywhere from 1724-1739.

In Bach’s day these works were simply known as Overtures, but the designation of Orchestral Suite is perhaps more accurate. The suite, which was a formal staple of the baroque period, usually consisted of an overture or prelude, and was followed by the composer’s choice of a selection of short pieces known as Dances. These dances, some of which date back before the renaissance period, arose from many different European nations and were originally just that: short pieces that were composed for use as accompaniment to dancing. As time went on, changing fashion caused most of the dances themselves to disappear. But much of the music that served as accompaniment survived strictly as orchestral or instrumental pieces now intended for listening.

The baroque composer of suites had a dizzying variety of choices: from France he could select the Bouree, the Gavotte or the Minuet; from Britain the Gigue; from Spain the Sarabande; from Poland the Polonaise. There were a few dozen other choices as well, so the composer certainly had immense freedom in assembling the pieces and putting them in order.

The credit for establishing a suite made up of overture and stylized dances must be given to French composer Jean-Baptiste Lully. In fact, Europe was hopelessly smitten by things French, and there was hardly a man of title who did not wish to emulate the grandeur of the court of Louis XIV and the lavishness of life at Versailles.

It isn’t surprising, then, to find that Bach’s Orchestral Suites are very much in the French style. Bourees, Gavottes and Minuets abound, and each suite opens with a standard French overture, as established by Lully. These three-part overtures follow a pattern of slow-fast-slow, with the outer sections in dotted rhythm (a short note followed by a longer one) and the quicker middle section in fugal style.

The Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D major is probably the best-known of the four. The three trumpets give the Overture a grand, festive atmosphere with a solo violin taking charge in the fast middle section. The second movement is one of the most justly famous works in music, scored for strings alone, known familiarly as the ‘Air on the G String.’ Its simple scoring and heart-stirring melody are a poignant contrast to the pomp of the previous movement. The third movement is a pair of Gavottes, a French dance which gets its name from gavots, the people of the Pays de Gap in Dauphine. The pieces display a regal elegance with which Bach was very much at home. Next follows a lively Bouree, another French dance, this time originating in Auvergne. The finale, as in nearly every Bach suite, is a characteristically bouncy Gigue, a dance likely originating in Ireland, where it is known as the Jig. Here all the splendor of the opening movement returns to end the work in radiance.

 

Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Symphony No. 30 in C major “Alleluja” (1765)

Scored for flute, two oboes, bassoon, two trumpets and strings

For many years, Franz Joseph Haydn was employed as court composer to Prince Nikolaus Esterhazy. There was much to do to satisfy the conditions of his employment, especially since the prince was a great music lover. Concerts were daily events at the prince’s spectacular estate, and Haydn had full responsibility for all musical activities.

But Haydn was not merely a work-horse who churned out music as if off of an assembly line; he was an innovator, an inventor. He re-worked established forms, came up with bold new harmonies, and created passages of complex rhythmic and melodic design. The composer himself said, “I was able to experiment, to observe what made a strong impression and what weakened this. In other words, to correct, supplement, cut, take risks: I was cut off from the world. No one around me could cause me to doubt myself and torment me, and so I had to be original!”

Among the mind-bogglingly large number of works Haydn wrote for the Prince were more than seventy symphonies, composed for a large variety of occasions. One such work is the Symphony No. 30 known as “Alleluja.” The piece gets its name from the fact that Haydn used a plainchant alleluia melody in the first movement. Since this chant was largely reserved for Holy Week, it is believed that the symphony was written for a performance around Easter 1765. The boisterous nature of the work was surely a delight to the ears of the Prince, and anyone else who was present at its first performance.

The first movement is a rapturous, joyous statement with the trumpets happily leading the way. The Alleluia melody is transformed by Haydn into a lively celebration, not usually the kind of thing one associates with plainchant. Haydn’s wit and charm are evident throughout in this playful, almost mischievous opening statement.

The strings share the spotlight with the flute and oboes in the brightly lilting, lovely second movement. The middle section briefly sets a slightly agitated tone, but the supremely cheery main theme returns to set things in order again.

The finale is a stately minuet; a movement that is scarcely absent from Haydn’s early works. But there is still plenty here to delight, and Haydn’s way with pleasing melody keeps the spirits high.

 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

Divertimento in D Major, K. 251 (1776)

Scored for oboe, two horns and strings

As much as he desired a Royal Court appointment, Mozart was increasingly frustrated with the one which he had been entrusted beginning in March, 1772 in Salzburg. Prince-Archbishop Hieronymous von Colloredo knew that having Mozart in his employ gave him bragging rights, but the Prince was a snob who showed little appreciation for his composer’s talents and tried to keep a tyrannical hold over him. Mozart, whose reputation grew while in Colloredo’s employ, made many attempts to secure a more lucrative and prestigious position elsewhere, but with no success. The frustrated genius remained in the Prince’s employ until 1781.

While in Salzburg, Mozart was asked to write a large amount of music to entertain the court during dinners, state occasions and parties. While the composer would rather have been doing something else, he nevertheless put his hand to the task of writing Divertimenti, Nachtmusik and Serenades with his usual gift for orchestral color and his astonishing melodic prowess. These works could be written for any combination of instruments including winds, strings and full orchestra as the size, importance and location of the situation dictated. These works contained multiple movements more in keeping with a suite than the more rigid structures of the symphony and concerto.

One of these works is the Divertimento in D major, K. 251. Originally scored as a chamber piece, the string parts are most often played by a full orchestra. It is believed by some scholars to have been written with the twenty-fifth birthday of his sister Nannerl in mind, on July 30, 1776.

The work opens with a spirited Allegro. The entire movement is based on the opening theme, which appears in various guises throughout, and is even used, albeit in minor mode, as the second theme of the exposition.

The second movement is a characteristically stately Minuet. The middle Trio section is played by the strings alone.

The third movement is a Rondeau, originally a poem of six or eight lines which began and ended with the same line, thus forming a round. The musical equivalent follows a similar pattern. Mozart’s music here is exceedingly lovely, especially when the oboe takes up its own version of the main theme.

Next follows another Minuet, this time acting as the theme for a set of variations. The oboe leads the way in the first variation, succeeded in turn by the first, then the second violin with variations of their own.

The next movement is a Rondo, not much different in construction from the preceding Rondeau, the opening theme reappearing between sections of contrasting musical material. This time, though, the mood is one of jollity. It is lively, engaging and enchanting throughout.

The finale is a succinct March in the French Style, ending the work in regal elegance.

 

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953)

Symphony No. 1, Op. 25 “Classical” (1917)

Scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, timpani and strings

On October 18, 1923 the world first heard the Octet by Igor Stravinsky in which the Russian exile had embraced the ideals, forms and textures of the pre-Romantic era for the first time. He adopted a more traditional approach to harmony and form, yet adapted them to his own individual style. This trend would later be known as Neo-Classicism, stressing the traditional aspects of the style and it wasn’t long before it began to influence composers all over the world. For the next 30 years Stravinsky was to persist in this new style that was hailed as unique and original, and which set contemporary music on a new path. But by naming Stravinsky as the father as well as the mentor of this style, music history has done a grave injustice to the rightful claimant.

A full six years before the Octet was to make its debut, fellow Russian Sergei Prokofiev was hard at work on his first symphony. The young man had just finished his studies at the St. Petersburg Conservatory and was ready to flex his musical muscles a little. His refusal to conform to tradition and the conservative attitude of many of the grand old men of the Conservatory had earned him a reputation as the “Bad Boy” of music, a reputation he fully resolved to further now that he was free of these conformist influences. So the idea for a symphony inspired by Haydn must have come as a surprise. Even though Prokofiev admitted that through his Conservatory studies “Haydn’s technique became particularly limpid to me,” it must have raised a few eyebrows. For perhaps the first time, Prokofiev was questioning his role in the history of music.

The composer himself clarified the matter:

I had always composed at the piano, but noticed that the thematic material that I happened to compose away from the piano was often better. I had been playing with the idea of writing a whole symphony without the piano, thinking that such a piece would have more natural and transparent colors.

So this is how the idea of a symphony in the style of Haydn had come about. I had come to understand a great deal about Haydn’s technique during my music studies and thought it would be less scary to embark on this difficult pianoless journey if I were on familiar stylistic ground.

It seemed to me that if Haydn had lived to our day, he would have retained his own style while absorbing something new at the same time. This was the kind of symphony I wanted to write: a symphony in the classic style. And when I saw that my idea was beginning to pan out I called it the Classical Symphony, and secretly hoped that it would really turn out to be a classic.

Prokofiev’s hopes were soon to be realized when he conducted the first performance at Petrograd on April 1, 1918. Only a few days later, Prokofiev left Russia for the United States and France, taking the symphony with him and he soon established its presence all over the western world.

The work follows the traditional formal construction of the classical symphony and utilizes the smaller orchestral forces of the period. The first movement opens optimistically and alternates sudden bursts of energy with calmer lyrical passages On hearing its opening bars, one might almost be tempted to think that they were listening to Haydn. But the slightly jarring dissonances, the sudden key shifts and the mildly uneven flow of the music leaves us little doubt about its historical placement.

The second movement is a lovely larghetto, flowing effortlessly, but retaining the same slight unevenness of meter which characterizes the previous movement. Its grace and beauty foreshadow the melodic richness of his later work.

The third movement is a regal Gavotte with a rustic middle section. This dance was later adapted as one of the numbers for Prokofiev’s beloved ballet Romeo and Juliet. When the first section returns it is slower and quieter than on its first hearing and gradually makes its retreat until we realize that it suddenly isn’t there anymore.

The finale is characterized by a frenetic energy which brings us back to the optimism of the first movement. Without hesitating a moment throughout it propels us forward into an attitude of uninhibited joy eventually reaching a firm and confident conclusion.