Berlioz Festival Talk

11 am preconcert talk: Richard Wilson

11:30am performance: Anna Polonsky, piano; New Hudson Saxophone Quartet; Bard Festival Wind Ensemble; and others

Hector BERLIOZ (1803–69)

   Chant sacré (arr. 1844)

Jean-Baptiste ARBAN (1825–89)

   Fantaisie and Variations on The Carnival of Venice (1861)

Richard STRAUSS (1864–1949)

   Andante, op. posth. (1888)

Edward ELGAR (1857–1934)

   Romance, Op. 62 (1910)

Eugène BOZZA (1905–91)

   Andante et Scherzo (1938)

Edgard VARÈSE (1883–1965)

   Density 21.5 (1936, rev. 1946)

Olivier MESSIAEN (1908–92)

   Le merle noir (1952)

Steve REICH (b. 1936)

   Clapping Music (1972)

Luciano BERIO (1925–2003)

   Sequenza V (1966)

György LIGETI (1923–2006)

   Six Bagatelles (1953)

Preconcert Talk by Richard Wilson

I’ve been involved with the Bard Music Festival since its inception, and have introduced a wide variety of concerts over the years. But I have never introduced a program that is as much fun as this one.  There are solo works for cornet, horn, bassoon, flute, trombone—some with piano.  A duet just for four hands. And a saxophone quartet. This to say nothing of  “The Carnival of Venice’.

Until this moment I knew nothing about that tune. It turns out to be a Neapolitan song called, “O Mamma, Mamma Cara”. [Demonstrate at the piano.] (What I just played was from book one of a piano teaching method. So children learned it early on.  The tune shows up on antique music boxes [Example 1] as well as a version with added lyrics sung by the Mills Brothers [Example 2]. Paganini got hold of it and wrote twenty variations. Here is one. [Example 3] Even he would have been impressed, I think, to hear it with double- and triple-tonguing on the cornet, which will be our treat in a few minutes.  By the way—for those who didn’t already know this--the cornet differs from the trumpet in that it has a conical—rather than a cylindrical bore, giving it a warmer sound. When I say “warmer sound” I am actually struggling to describe the color of the sound—color being what this program is all about. I believe it is safe to say that composers have their ears filled with such colors--comprising the materials with which they work.

Getting back to The Carnival of Venice. You probably thought you’d never hear me mention, in one of these talks, “How Much is That Doggie in the Window’, but that’s another version—possibly the most famous--of that tune.

Now to the saxophone. It came into our world in the 1840s when it was invented by Adolphe Sax, the son of a Belgian instrument maker. Sax’s biography bears mention. He swallowed acid at age 3, fell from a third-floor window, was burned in a gunpowder explosion, fell into a frying pan, was almost fatally poisoned from varnish left in his sleeping quarters.  His mother is quoted saying, “he’s a child condemned to misfortune; he won’t live.” But live he did and grew up to invent the saxophone. His intention was to fill a tonal gap between woodwinds and brasses. He sought an instrument that would combine the projection of a brass instrument with the agility of a woodwind. Berlioz felt Sax had succeeded, writing: “I do not know of any instrument currently in use that can […] be compared to it. It is full, mellow, vibrant, of enormous strength, and capable of being softened.” Sax conceived of fourteen different versions of the instrument--most of which are now obsolete. Don’t look now, but on the page in the program book opposite this concert, you can see an advertisement for Sax’s instruments that includes images of his workshop.

In due time, the instrument’s prestige would become considerably enhanced by such jazz greats as—on alto-- Charlie Parker, and on tenor--John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, Lester Young and Stan Getz—all of them recognizing and exploiting the sax’s ability to evoke the human voice.

Berlioz’s Chant Sacré, written in 1829, was a work the composer was especially pleased with. He made arrangements of it for chorus and piano, chorus and orchestra and—in 1844—for six winds including two types of clarinets and four of the newly invented saxophones. Alas, that version is now lost. What we hear today is a restoration for sax quartet by David Davis.

Eugène Bozza is a name previously unfamiliar to me. I was astonished to find that he wrote five symphonies, several operas, ballets and concertos. His special interest was in wind instruments. We will hear his lovely Andante and scampering Scherzo for saxophone quartet. (that’s soprano, alto, tenor, baritone)

Richard Strauss’s father was principal horn in the Bavarian Court Opera and wrote several works for his instrument. He is especially remembered because, when Wagner died, and the members of the orchestra stood in silent tribute. Franz Strauss refused to stand. He disliked the man. But it is safe to say that his son, Richard, grew up with the sound of the horn resonating throughout the house.

Edward Elgar wrote his Romance for bassoon and piano, later arranged by the composer for bassoon and orchestra. It seems to have been a vehicle for showing the talents of the first bassoonist of the London Symphony which Elgar was conducting at the time.  Works for solo bassoon and orchestra are not numerous. But Mozart has left, with his concerto, an example hard to surpass.

Whether you realized it or not, you have probably experienced music by György Ligeti.  His works were drawn on for several of Stanley Kubrick’s films, particularly 2001: A Space Odyssey, and more creepilyEyes Wide Shut.  Ligeti’s Six Bagatelles, taken from a set of eleven piano pieces and arranged for wind quintet, are not so scary but range from whimsical and humorous to manic.

Olivier Messiaen took his birds very seriously. He considered their song to be the voice of God.  His Le merle noir, the first of his avian-inspired pieces, pays tribute (obviously) to the blackbird. Let’s hear a real blackbird and just a bit from Messiaen’s version [Example 4]

The title of Edgard Varèse’s flute solo comes from the density of platinum out of which some of the most expensive flutes are made. In Varèse’s time, works for flute alone were unusual. Density21.5 inspired later composers. There is now quite a repertoire for solo flute.

I’ve recently become aware of the term “walking ovation.” This is where the audience members clap as they head out the door. In Steve Reich’s Clapping Music the performers (at least) stay in place. The work was inspired by Reich’s hearing of flamenco music in Brussels. The two performers start out sharing this basic rhythm.

 [COUNT IT OUT]

One performer repeats that starting rhythm unaltered while the other player very gradually shifts away from it, eighth-note by eighth-note. The piece ends when the two are back in sync.  

Luciano Berio’s Sequenza V is a truly conspicuous case of nose-thumbing at the deeply serious, often impenetrable serial music of the 1950s and 60s. The composer here even prescribes the costume of the performer. The humble mute becomes a character in the drama.

For that, and many reasons, I know you will enjoy this program.