The Double Marriage of Figaro
Yoav Talmi
b. Kibbutz Merhavia, Israel / April 28, 1943
Yoav Talmi writes, "The Double Marriage of Figaro was written for the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebrations of Mozart. What I had in mind, is to take Mozart’s overture to The Marriage of Figaro and have fun with it by throwing in some foreign ideas and material from pieces that in some mysterious ways, came to my mind while I was fooling around with Mozart’s original music.
"After the first frenzied section (Presto), the lovable aria of Barbarina is brought in as a middle section of repose before the Presto reappears. Some quotes are to be heard - of themes by Mozart himself, Elgar, Prokofiev, and Mahler. The association came to my mind mainly through key or character relationships."
The Double Marriage of Figaro was first performed in March 2006 by the Orchestra Symphonique de Québec in Québec City and in Montréal, conducted by the composer.
Violin Concerto No. 4 in D major, K. 218
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
b. Salzburg, Austria / January 27, 1756
d. Vienna, Austria / December 5, 1791
Mozart, the greatest of all child prodigies in music, received from his father Leopold a thorough education in composition and performance. The latter included piano, harpsichord, and violin. Young Wolfgang frequently performed as violin soloist on the concert tours his family made during the 1760s. His father once wrote to him that “You yourself do not know how well you play the violin…when you play with energy and with your whole heart and soul, yes indeed, it’s just as though you were the finest violinist in all of Europe.” This was no small compliment, coming from a renowned authority on the instrument. He published his widely used violin method in the year of Wolfgang’s birth.
In 1769, Wolfgang was awarded the post of Honorary Concertmaster in his home city’s court orchestra. His duties included leading it from the first desk (this being before the rise of the conductor, as we know the role), playing solos, and writing new music for it to perform.
Between April and December 1775, he composed four of the five violin concertos that can be unquestionably attributed to him. No. 4 appeared in October. He modeled it on a work in the same key, written 10 years previously by Italian composer Luigi Boccherini. It opens with a bold, almost military declamation, setting the stage for the soloist’s entry. From then on, the music radiates grace, good humor, and perfect taste. The slow movement offers warmth and serenity. Mozart scholar Alfred Einstein called it “an uninterrupted song, an avowal of love.” The Finale opens gently, then breaks happily into a rustic dance tune. The appealing sequence of varied episodes that follows includes references to several popular airs of the day.
Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27
Sergei Rachmaninoff
b. Oneg, Russia / March 20, 1873
d. Beverly Hills, California / March 28, 1943
“A composer’s music should express the country of his birth, his love affairs, his religion, the books which have influenced him, the pictures he loves...My music is the product of my temperament, and so it is Russian music.” – Rachmaninoff
Sometimes it pays to be old-fashioned, if that means writing attractive, communicative, emotional music. Opinions come and go, but “old-fashioned” composers such as Rachmaninoff have the goods to weather the whims of critical opinion and maintain their popularity. Audiences loved Rachmaninoff’s music during his lifetime, they still do, and it is likely they will continue to do so for a long time to come. He rarely smiled in public, but his friends – and his music – testify to his warm, generous nature.
In 1897, the premiere of his ambitious and intensely dramatic First Symphony proved such an unmitigated disaster that it plunged the gifted 24-year-old composer into a depression so profound that he was unable to compose a note. Three years and the help of a psychiatrist were needed to bring him out of it. He also was able to resume his two-pronged, pianist/conductor performing career, adding further luster to his reputation.
By the autumn of 1906, in fact, Rachmaninoff came to feel that his concert activities were leaving him too little time for his first love, composition. The political situation in Russia had become dangerously volatile, as well. Seeking a retreat from these stresses, he chose Dresden, Germany because of its thriving musical life. He leased a villa there, in which he would spend several months during each of the next two-and-a-half years. In that idyllic setting, he was free to relax, to ponder, and to allow his inherently expansive creative impulses to define their limits.
During this period, he composed several important scores, including Piano Sonata No. 1 and the symphonic poem The Isle of the Dead. Having finally exorcised the demon of his First Symphony’s failure, he was able to consider the creation of a successor. He took great care with it, sincerely wishing it to succeed. His efforts won total vindication when the first performance, which he conducted himself in St. Petersburg on February 8, 1908, scored a resounding triumph.
The Symphony’s length was remarked upon from the beginning. A review of the second performance stated, “After listening with unflagging attention to its four movements, one notes with surprise that the hands of the watch have moved 65 minutes forward. This may be slightly long for the general audience, but how fresh, how beautiful the music is...”
Numerous conductors have not shared this view of the Symphony’s dimensions. Under pressure, Rachmaninoff reluctantly agreed to authorize certain small cuts, a practice which was followed for many years, especially prior to the 1960s, when the Symphony rebounded from decades of neglect and regained its original popularity. Some maestros took this damaging approach further still, reducing the Symphony to as little as 40 minutes. It makes its full, carefully balanced effect, however, only when heard in its entirety, as it will be at these performances. This reveals it, as Rachmaninoff intended, as a vast, unbroken outpouring of emotion, dramatic, sumptuously scored, and above all lyrical in expression.
As would be the case in all three Rachmaninoff symphonies, the Second is bound together by a brief, simple recurring theme, a “motto.” This one is played by the double basses at the beginning of the first movement’s slow, brooding introduction. The main Allegro presents a balance of restless, dramatic, and yearning elements. In its urgency and rhythmic drive, the following Scherzo leans toward the tart style of Prokofiev, but only Rachmaninoff (or perhaps his idol, Tchaikovsky) could have written the soaring second theme.
The third movement Adagio is the symphony’s beating heart, an outpouring of passionate lyricism virtually unsurpassed in all music. The principal theme is a long, glowing melody introduced by solo clarinet. As the movement develops, it touches repeated heights of rapture, before dying away into contented stillness. The symphony concludes with a surging, joyful Rondo. Fleeting reminiscences of previous movements crop up, en route to the exhilarating conclusion.
© 2008 Don Anderson. All rights reserved.
