Program Notes

Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741)

The Four Seasons, Op. 8, Nos. 1-4 (published 1726)

Scored for strings, continuo and solo violin  

In the age that we live, promotion is practically everything. The ability to get one’s product or one’s name before the public has become essential in achieving success. But in the early years of the 18 th century, life was just a bit different. Communication was slow, and a composer’s music could take years to be known outside of his own country.

But Antonio Vivaldi was in a perfect position to make sure nothing was left to chance. The composer spent much time traveling, and took the opportunity to promote his works abroad, which was a very rare and remarkable thing. As a result, by the time of the publication of the12 concertos L’estro armonico (Harmonic Inspirations), op.3 in 1711, his reputation was made. These works brought visiting musicians to seek him out in Venice and in some cases commission works from him. In fact, the great respect that this set inspired was left without question when J. S. Bach transcribed five of the op.3 concerti for keyboard.

Seven more sets of concerti followed, including La stravaganza, op.4 in 1712, and Il cimento dell ‘armonia e dell’ inventione (The contest between harmony and invention), Op. 8 in 1726. In the unusual title, “harmony” represents the more academic side of music and “invention” the creative and innovative. But little did Vivaldi know that the publication of this last set would make his name immortal. The first four concerti of Op. 8 would come to be the most famous music ever written up to that time under the collective title The Four Seasons.

This remarkable set of concerti, written more than 275 years ago and played nearly as often of reruns of Friends, remains as fresh and vibrant as a new rose in full bloom. Though Vivaldi was by no means new to the composition of concerti (he had already written a few hundred by this time), one must marvel at the inexhaustible invention and imagination contained here. One of the distinguishing marks of these works is the noticeable lack of ritornello, or the commonly-used practice of alternating back and forth between soloist and orchestra. Here the emphasis is on the integration of the two. Though the soloist’s role is never in doubt, Vivaldi seems to be encouraging an attitude of oneness with nature.

The four concerti are strongly programmatic works, each one based on sonnets thought to be by the composer, and each describing a different season of the year. It is known that the four concerti that make up this set were circulating before the official publication, but the 1725 edition was the first time the poetic catalysts were printed alongside them. Although the music can stand quite alone apart from the sonnets, the listener should be given the option of reading them. The most compelling reason for this is the fact that the composer went out of his way to mark the score, making clear to the performers the exact correlation between words and notes. The poems are included below.

Program music was nothing unusual for Vivaldi’s time. In fact, most composers of the Baroque era would probably have described all music as being representative of something. But here, the Italian master brings the genre to a level of unprecedented perfection, using an abstract art form to describe largely concrete ideas with alarming precision. This is not simply musical word painting, but an artistically penetrating display of virtuoso composition: Vivaldi had reached the peak of his powers.

The first concerto, Spring begins with a vibrant theme, invoking the season of renewal. Then the soloist takes up the song of the birds, gleefully trilling away as the first and second violins add their own unique voices. Soon the gentle trickling of springs is interrupted by the thundering of a great storm, the soloist’s arresting triplets ushering in the dark clouds. When the storm has passed the birds take up a new song, and a welcome return of the merriment. In the second movement the soloist takes up a song of the quietly sleeping goatherd, while the first and second violins accompany with the murmur of the fronds and plants. The insistent two-note motive in the violas represents the barking of the goatherd’s faithful canine. The final movement is a peaceful pastoral dance, the soloist enlivening the joyful proceedings with nimble cadenzas.

Concerto No. 2 entitled Summer begins with a slow introduction marked by the composer as “Exhausted by the heat.” The movement soon comes to life with the solo violin’s rapid runs in the song of the cuckoo. The rest of the strings join in for a vibrant cadence. The music slows once more and the violin takes up the song of the turtledove, closely followed by the trilling of a goldfinch. Then gentle breezes blow in tutti with triplets and dotted rhythms, but the gentle breezes suddenly explode into the violent north wind. Once the wind slackens, the violin takes up the doleful tears of the shepherd boy, who fears a nasty storm is approaching. The violent north wind kicks up again and carries us to the movement’s end. The second movement is underscored by the dotted rhythms in the violins as the flitting of flies and wasps while the soloist plays the part of the shepherd weeping in fear. Tremolo strings in unison intermittently interrupt the lament as the quietly approaching thunder and the storm now seems imminent. Summer’s violent weather introduces the third movement and the shepherd’s fears are now fully realized. The torrent in the tutti strings is punctuated by ominous passages on the solo violin.

The first movement of concerto No. 3, Autumn opens with the vibrant “Song and Dance of the Villagers” as they celebrate a happy harvest. Before long, some rather uneasy runs in the violin introduce the drunkard (one of many in the jubilant crowd, one would think!). Soon the uneasy runs become an unsteady slow melody as the drunkard, finally exhausted, dozes off, with the orchestra quietly approving. The movement ends with the same vigor with which it began. The second movement continues the drunkard’s rest, the music setting a mood of peaceful repose. Now fully rested, the third movement introduces the hunt with representative horn fanfares played on the strings, their call to attention taken up by the soloist. Rapid triplets follow the fleeing of the wild beast. Tremolos in the orchestra and wild, flailing passages in the violin represent the wounded animal’s attempts to flee. Finally, descending scales and languid slower notes mark the beast’s demise.

The last concerto, Winter begins with a chilled shiver in the orchestra with agitated trills in the solo violin. Next, a series of musical gestures portraying all of the inconvenience that the cold weather brings: a sudden shrill outburst from the violin is the horrid wind; rapid repeated notes and a famous melody represent the stamping of feet from the cold and a return of the wind; high-pitched tremolos from the soloist symbolize the chattering of teeth. The second movement portrays a peaceful rustic setting as the rain outside is hardly heeded while cozily sitting by the fire. The last movement begins with a passage that depicts walking on the ice, at a moderate pace at first, then more cautiously. Then a little faster in a bold turn, ending with an unfortunate fall to the ground. Picking himself up, the walker is now running in an attempt to simply get it over with. Here the violin is the runner, becoming more nervous as he goes. Suddenly, in a series of deeply agitated arpeggios, the ice cracks and breaks. A brief respite as the hot desert wind kicks up, only to be utterly swept away by the angry North Wind in a dramatic rush.