October 27, 2007 Viola Concerto Sir William Walton b. Oldham, England / March 29, 1902; d. Ischia, Italy / March 8, 1983 Walton’s Viola Concerto ushered in a new phase in his career, one where lyricism and melancholy played greatly increased roles. The two most highly esteemed viola soloists of the day were the Englishman Lionel Tertis and the German Paul Hindemith, the latter even more renowned as a composer. In 1962, Walton recalled that it was celebrated conductor Sir Thomas Beecham who suggested his writing a viola concerto for Tertis. Walton did most of the work on it in Amalfi, Italy, beginning in November 1928. When it was completed he sent it to Tertis, who “turned it down sharply by return of post, which depressed me a good deal as virtuoso violists are scarce,” Walton recalled. A colleague suggested that Walton turn to Hindemith. Hindemith agreed to premiere the concerto at a Promenade concert in London, with the composer conducting. The first performance took place on October 3, 1929. It appears to have been less than ideal. Nevertheless, it won a warm reception. Walton used the layout of the Viola Concerto – a central scherzo flanked by movements balancing lyrical and dramatic elements – in both his later concertos, for violin (1939) and cello (1957). His model may have been the first violin concerto (1918) by a composer who influenced him profoundly: Sergey Prokofiev. He revised the Viola Concerto in 1961, reducing the orchestration and adding an important part for harp. This, his preferred version, has been the standard edition ever since. Placed first, the slow movement establishes the concerto’s bittersweet personality right from the start. Although it contains passages of drama and animation, it is basically calm and thoughtful. A compact rondo with the bustling, witty character of a scherzo follows. The energy never flags for a second as the viola gets a rare opportunity to let its hair down. The finale is the longest and most elaborate movement. Walton combines new material with themes from the first movement. The music progresses from a jovial opening, through a monumental orchestral tutti in fugal style, to a quiet, poignant conclusion. Symphony No. 9 in C Major, D. 944 (The Great) Franz Schubert b. Vienna, Austria / January 31, 1797; d. Vienna / November 19, 1828 The young Schubert came to know the symphonies of Haydn and Mozart (and Beethoven’s first two) during his years as a member of the viola section in his school’s student orchestra. His earliest works for orchestra (including several overtures and two symphonies) date from this period. Naturally, these light, charming pieces show the influence of the composers whose music he knew. Over the next few years, four more symphonies followed. They have the same compact scale and genial nature as their predecessors. He then underwent some sort of creative, and probably also personal crisis. As a result, he started but did not complete four symphonies between 1818 and 1822. These failed attempts, and his emotional maturation, ensured that the last of them, the familiar “Unfinished” Symphony in B Minor, possesses a sense of drama and a depth of tragic feeling previously unheard in any of his symphonies. Gradually rebuilding his self-confidence, Schubert determined to compose what he considered a “grand” symphony, one that could rival the masterworks of Beethoven (whose Ninth had premiered the year before), while still bearing the imprint of his own personality. It is most likely that he sketched it – this symphony in C Major – during the summer of 1825, then developed and revised it over the remaining three years of his life. When he offered it to the Vienna Philharmonic Society, the players complained so bitterly about its length and difficulty that it never progressed beyond rehearsal. After his death, the manuscript of the still-unperformed work passed into the possession of his brother Ferdinand. In 1835, Ferdinand placed an advertisement in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik (New Musical Times), revealing the existence of the Symphony and several additional Schubert manuscripts. The journal’s editor, Robert Schumann, came to see about them. On New Year’s Day 1836, Ferdinand revealed all the treasure to his distinguished guest. Schumann passed the Symphony to his friend Felix Mendelssohn, who conducted the symphony’s first performance, in Leipzig on March 21, 1839. It met a mixed response. Achieving genuine recognition for it was not achieved easily. It was only toward the close of the century that it firmly established itself as a repertoire staple. Schubert cast each of its four movements on a vast scale. The first opens with a majestic introduction, and proceeds with a bold and vigorous Allegro. The theme of the prelude returns to end this section affirmatively. The strolling tempo of the second movement is set right from the beginning. After a central climax which verges on emotional disaster, the mood gradually relaxes back to its opening sense of gentility. The following Scherzo is not at all a simple joke or dance, but an immense outburst of Olympian energy. In the central Trio section, the winds present a long, eloquent theme of surpassing charm and richness. A commanding call to attention heralds the confident Finale. In it Schubert builds an exhilarating sense of joyful forward momentum, propelled by an insistent, galloping string rhythm (the primary source of those early players’ discomfort and derision) and bolstered by the ever-more-forceful underpinning of trombones. |
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