January 30, 2010 Concerto for Orchestra Béla Bartók b. Nagyszentmiklós, Hungary / March 25, 1881 d. New York, New York, USA / September 26, 1945
In 1940, to avoid being trapped in his native Hungary by the advancing Nazi forces, Bartók emigrated to the United States. Friends had secured him a job cataloguing Columbia University’s collection of folk songs from Eastern Europe. That position was eventually terminated, and the composer’s continuing poor health made it impossible for him to earn money by continuing his career as a piano soloist. Bartók found himself virtually destitute, but his proud nature would not allow him to accept anything resembling charity.
Two old friends came to his rescue. Violinist Joseph Szigeti and conductor Fritz Reiner persuaded Serge Koussevitzky, Music Director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, to commission a new work from Bartók. The composer would only accept half the fee in advance, fearing that he would not live to complete the requested piece. Bartók composed the Concerto for Orchestra between August and October 1943. Its creation gave his spirits a much-needed boost, as did the highly successful premiere, which Koussevitzky conducted on December 1, 1944.
“The title Concerto for this symphony-like orchestral work is explained by its tendency to treat single instruments or groups in a concertante or soloist manner,” Bartók explained. “The general mood represents, apart from the jesting second movement, a gradual transition from the sternness of the first movement and the lugubrious death-song of the third, to the life-assertion of the last one.”
The first movement opens with an emotionally clouded introduction, then plunges into a restless, thrusting principal section. A powerful climax spotlighting the brass leads to a defiant close. The concerto’s two scherzo-like movements are its most unique features. The first, Game of the Pairs, showcases the poker-faced side of Bartók’s sense of humor. Two bassoons introduce the droll principal theme. Variations on it are then played in turn by pairs of oboes, clarinets, flutes and trumpets. A solemn brass chorale provides contrast, before the game resumes its course. The concerto’s emotional heart lies in the following Elegy. After woodwinds and harp have set the ethereal mood, Bartók gradually builds a searing central climax. He brings this section full circle by ending it as calmly and forlornly as it began.
The second scherzo, Interrupted Intermezzo, is less subtle but just as amusing as the first. The oboe introduces the cheeky first subject, followed by a warm, folksy tune on the strings. A dance-like rhythm begins to insinuate itself, leading to the “interruption” proper, a banal idea first heard on the clarinet. Bartók took it from the opening movement of Dmitry Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7. This piece had recently been smuggled out of Russia past the Nazi blockade. It was being broadcast relentlessly, more as a gesture of political support than for musical reasons. Bartók came to dislike it intensely, and he took this opportunity to thumb his nose at it.
A grand flourish by the horns introduces the concerto’s exuberant finale. The strings execute swirling, moto perpetuo figurations, intertwined with heroic brass fanfares and stamping Hungarian dance rhythms.
Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 35 Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky b. Kamsko-Votkinsk, Russia / May 7, 1840; d. St. Petersburg, Russia / November 6, 1893
For a composer as immersed in lyricism as Tchaikovsky, it is surprising that he wrote so little solo repertoire for that songful instrument, the violin: Sérénade mélancolique (1875); Valse-scherzo (1877); this full-scale concerto (1878); and the suite, Souvenir d’un lieu cher (1878).
He composed the concerto while visiting Clarens, Switzerland. Dissatisfied with the original slow movement, he replaced it with the one known today. He sent the concerto to Leopold Auer, the distinguished Hungarian soloist. To his horror, Auer declined to perform it, citing technical and artistic shortcomings. Crushed, Tchaikovsky shelved it.
Some time later, the German soloist Adolf Brodsky expressed an interest, then spent the better part of two years preparing to give the premiere. That took place at a concert by the Vienna Philharmonic, Hans Richter conducting, on December 4, 1881. The audience loved Brodsky’s playing, but they hissed the piece. The press, led by the arch-conservative critic Eduard Hanslick (main spokesman for the foes of such forward-looking composers as Wagner and Liszt), heaped abuse upon it, too.
Despite this initial hostility, the concerto lost little time in establishing itself as a concert favorite. Brodsky’s continuing advocacy had much to do with this. In gratitude, Tchaikovsky changed his original dedication plan, switching it from Auer to Brodsky. Auer later changed his view. He became one of its most persuasive champions and made sure that his many pupils, including Jascha Heifetz, performed it, as well.
It is considerably less dramatic and more lightly-scored than Tchaikovsky’s only previous concerto, the First for piano (1875). In breadth of conception and richness of contents, the opening movement is virtually a complete concerto in itself. Since both principal themes are lyrical, Tchaikovsky achieves the necessary contrast by alternating lightly scored passages for violin and orchestra, with more forceful sections scored for orchestra alone.
Woodwinds introduce the wistful, elegant second movement. The soloist uses a mute, giving the instrument a veiled, restrained sound most appropriate to the music. The vivacious, folk-flavored dance rhythms of the finale burst in abruptly. Two warm contrasting ideas are subjected to elaborate presentation. The solo violin then leads off an exhilarating chase which brings the concerto to a dashing close. |
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