BY LAURIE SHULMAN, ©2009
FIRST NORTH AMERICAN SERIAL RIGHTS ONLY
Overture to La scala di seta
Gioacchino Rossini
Born February 29, 1792 in Pesaro, Italy
Died November 13, 1868 in Passy, near Paris, France
Rossini overtures have become a sub-genre unto themselves. No other opera composer prances so proudly on the concert stage; few have enjoyed the historical prestige of having an orchestral technique (the “Rossini crescendo”) virtually ascribed to them.
What makes the instrumental preludes to Rossini’s operas so irresistible, even independent of the stage works they originally preceded? To begin with, they are brimming with melodies. If Rossini understood anything about composition, it was the importance of the singable tune. Second, his overtures—even those for most of his serious operas—exude vigor, energy and contagious good humor that make the listener eager for more. Third, their scoring is expert. Rossini composed with a light touch and a genius for the woodwind section that was rarely equaled during the 19th century.
La scala di seta (“The Silken Ladder”) is quite early among Rossini’s operas; it premiered when he was 20. The overture is clearly the best that this one-act farsa had to offer. Outside Italy, La scala di seta had few performances until historical curiosity excavated it in the mid-20th century. Its overture, however, is a classic jewel: concise, well constructed and beautifully orchestrated.
Rossini’s masculine opening flourish in unison strings is answered by winds in near rhapsodic relaxation. His delicate and intimate scoring for a chamber-size orchestra superbly renders the contrast. Following the woodwind introduction, strings and winds combine in lively dialogue for a sprightly allegro.
The score calls for flute (doubling on piccolo), two oboes, two clarinets, bassoon, two horns and strings. Timing: approximately 6 minutes.
Concerto for Flute and Orchestra
Jacques Ibert
Born August 15, 1890 in Paris, France
Died February 5, 1962 in Paris
A French original
The French composer Jacques Ibert (pronounced ee-BARE) was a contemporary of the vibrant group known as “Les Six” (Louis Durey, Arthur Honegger, Darius Milhaud, Germaine Tailleferre, Georges Auric and Francis Poulenc), which dominated French music between the First and Second World Wars. Probably closer in spirit to Milhaud than the others, Ibert charged much of his music with a wit and irreverence that Erik Satie would have applauded.
Although Ibert composed extensively for stage and film, his best music is for orchestra. He was fascinated by the colors and timbres of wind instruments, which figure prominently in his writing. Two of his three concertos are for wind instruments and the third, for cello, features a chamber orchestra consisting of six solo winds plus a string quintet.
Ibert wrote his Flute Concerto in 1933 at the behest of distinguished French flutist Marcel Moyse (1889–1984). Moyse introduced the concerto at the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire on February 25, 1934. The brilliant third movement became a test piece at the Conservatoire almost immediately. Moyse remained a champion of the concerto, but its difficulty proved daunting. It was not performed in England or the United States until 1948. Today, the Ibert concerto is acknowledged as a 20th-century masterpiece and a bellwether for virtuoso flutists.
“The other frequently performed 20th-century flute concerto is Carl Nielsen’s, which is darker and more intense,” says NJSO principal flutist and soloist Bart Feller. “The Ibert is lighter, more scherzando and overtly technical.”
Spanning the centuries: Baroque to contemporary
Ibert was a strong proponent of classical tradition, and the concerto’s three movements adhere to the standard fast-slow-fast arrangement. That stated tripartite structure and dance elements link each movement to the French Baroque suite. We could think of the opening movement as an allemande, the slow movement as a sarabande and the finale as a gigue, but frequent metric changes in all three movements distance the concerto from those older forms. The musical language is distinctly modern. Ibert’s use of 9th, 11th and 13th chords shows his indebtedness to Debussy, Dukas and Roussel.
“A torrent of notes”
Two contrasting thematic ideas dominate the first movement: a rapid cascade of staccato 16th notes at the start, countered by a lyrical, expressive second theme. The dazzling 16ths soon return to dominate the active solo part. By inserting measures of 3/8 or 3/4 into an otherwise steady duple-meter pulse, Ibert makes the opening allegro a virtuoso counting exercise for soloist, conductor and orchestra. “Right out of the gate you play running 16th notes,” Feller says. “The flutist has to concentrate on projecting above the orchestra, grabbing a breath and capturing Ibert’s jazzy lightness. It’s a challenge to make it sound effortless and French.
“I think it’s fun for the audience, too,” he adds. “Everyone on stage is bubbling over with this torrent of 16th notes. The opening movement provides a really good workout for the first violins.”
Feller is especially fond of the Andante. “Muted strings set the scene in D-flat major, and then the flute enters, playing the same melody in a different key. The effect is hauntingly beautiful,” he says. “And the slow movement provides a break between the athleticism of the outer movements.”
Listeners familiar with Ibert’s orchestral Escales will perceive a comparable atmospheric languor to that work’s central “Tunis/Nefta” movement. After the climax, the serene first theme returns in the solo violin, with decoration from the soloist.
The closing Allegro scherzando—the flashy competition piece for the Conservatoire—brings back the mixed meter of the first movement. The occasional measure of 3/4 interpolated in the midst of 4/4 gives the music a jazzy feel. Formally, this finale is a rondo with three principal ideas and the concerto’s only cadenza. “The third movement is very well paced, compositionally,” observes Feller. For balance, sharp edges, charm and the dazzle factor, Ibert’s concerto is hard to beat.
The score calls for woodwinds and horns in pairs, one trumpet, timpani, solo flute and strings. Timing: approximately 19 minutes.
Symphonie fantastique
Hector Berlioz
Born December 11, 1803 in La-Côte-Saint-André, France
Died March 8, 1869 in Paris
Beethoven and Shakespeare
For Hector Berlioz, Beethoven epitomized the power and expressive potential of the symphony. He was thrilled by Beethoven’s expansion of the symphonic concept in the “Pastoral” and “Choral” symphonies. In France, a country where symphonic music took a subservient role to opera, Berlioz set his unorthodox ambitions on carrying on the Beethovenian spirit.
Berlioz falls in love
Harriet Smithson made her Parisian debut in 1827 as Juliet and Ophelia in English performances of Shakespeare plays. She created a sensation, and Berlioz, like all of Paris, flocked to the theatre to see her perform. Though he did not understand English well, Berlioz was sufficiently familiar with Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet to project his literary ardor onto the female protagonist of each. He fell headlong in love with the comely Irish actress. Starting in 1828, he wrote to her for almost two years, but she did not respond to even those letters he had taken the trouble to frame in English.
The young composer’s romantic passion was undimmed. By February 1830, Berlioz was in such a keyed-up emotional state that he “could scarcely endure—or distinguish between —moral and physical pain,” as he wrote to his father. In this agitated, precarious frame of mind, Berlioz began composing the Symphonie fantastique. Two months later it was finished, the creative pinnacle of his unrequited love.
Autobiography, romantic passion and drugs
As one might expect from such impassioned origins, the symphony is an intensely personal expression. It bears the subtitle “Episode in the Life of an Artist.” The basic premise is that a sensitive young artist, rejected by the woman he loves, has taken a potentially fatal dose of opium in a suicide attempt. Rather than dispatching him to his destiny, the opium launches a series of hallucinatory dreams reflecting the artist’s unstable state. These visions culminate in the nightmare-induced belief that he has murdered his beloved and is being led to the scaffold for execution. Such lurid experiences process themselves in his drugged mind as the music we hear.
Idée fixe: a term borrowed from psychology
Musically, this adventurous program required some adjustments to traditional symphonic form. To begin with, Berlioz expanded his symphony to five movements. Beethoven had set that precedent with his Sixth (“Pastoral”) Symphony; Berlioz adopted that idea to allow for greater exploration of the hero’s different emotional states. Next, anticipating Wagner and to some extent Liszt, he assigned the beloved a musical theme, calling it an idée fixe—a term for obsession that is borrowed from psychology.
The idée fixe, introduced in the first movement and varied or transformed in each of the subsequent movements, serves both structural and narrative purposes. As a recurrent melodic idea it makes the symphony a cyclic composition. As an auditory reminder of the program, the idée fixe turns the Symphonie fantastique into a dramatic work, even though it has no singers, actors or staging. With this, his first unquestioned masterpiece, Berlioz turned a sharp corner with the romantic symphony and never looked back.
Failed marriage—and another woman?
The postscript to the Harriet Smithson story is that Berlioz did marry her in 1833, when her career was in decline; the marriage failed. Berlioz scholar Hugh MacDonald has raised the tantalizing possibility that another woman, Camille Moke, may have also figured in the tempestuous events that led to the creation of the Symphonie fantastique. She and Berlioz were involved in a liaison in the early months of 1830 and were briefly engaged. She later married Ignaz Pleyel, heir to the piano-manufacturing firm. The possibility of an addition in the cast of characters gives us a fresh perspective on Berlioz’s youthful masterpiece.
Symphonie fantastique is scored for two flutes (second doubling piccolo), two oboes (second doubling English horn), two clarinets (one doubling on E-flat clarinet), four bassoons, four horns, two cornets, two trumpets, three trombones, two tuba, two timpani, bass drum, snare drum, cymbals, bells, two harps and strings. Timing: approximately 49 minutes.
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