Capriccio espagnol, Op. 34 . . . Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov
(Born March 18, 1844, in Tikhvin; died June 21, 1908, in Liubensk)

Rimsky-Korsakov first drafted his popular Capriccio espagnol as a fantasy on Spanish themes for violin and orchestra, but in 1887, he completely revised his sketch and recast it in the form we know the work today. On October 31, 1887, the composer conducted the first performance of the Capriccio at a concert of the Russian Symphony Orchestra in St. Petersburg. In his autobiography, My Musical Life, he described the event: “At the first rehearsal, the first movement had scarcely been finished when the whole orchestra began to applaud. I asked the orchestra for the privilege of dedicating the work to them. There was general delight at this. The Capriccio sounded brilliant. At the concert itself it was performed with perfection of execution and enthusiasm such as never was given to it later. Despite its length, the work had to be repeated.”

In November, Tchaikovsky wrote to the composer, “I must add that your Spanish Capriccio is a colossal masterpiece of instrumentation, and you may regard yourself as the greatest master of the present day.” This, and similar observations by others, the composer did not take to be unqualified compliments. He wrote, “The opinion that the Capriccio is a magnificent piece of orchestration is incorrect. The Capriccio is a brilliant composition for the orchestra. The change of timbres, the selection of melodic designs and figuration exactly adapted to each kind of instrument, the brief virtuoso cadenzas for solo instruments, the rhythm of the percussion instruments, all constitute the very essence of the composition, and not its garb or orchestration. The Spanish themes supplied me with rich material for the use of variegated orchestral effects. Taking it as a whole, the Capriccio is clearly a purely external work, but sparklingly brilliant for all that.” [Abridged]

The Capriccio espagnol has five connected movements: Alborada (a Spanish morning song); Variazioni (“Variations”), five variations on a lyrical theme; Alborada, a repetition of the opening movement, but in a different key and with different instrumentation); Scena e Canto Gitano (“Scene and Gypsy Song”); and Fandango asturiano (“Fandango of the Asturias”). At the work’s end, the Alborada theme returns as a coda.

The score calls for two flutes, piccolo, two oboes, English horn, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, snare drum, cymbals, triangle, tambourine, castanets, harp and strings.


Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 14 . . . Samuel Barber

(Born March 9, 1910, in West Chester, Pennsylvania; died January 23, 1981, in New York)

Samuel Barber was one of the most distinguished members of the generation of American composers who matured shortly before World War II. He began his musical studies when he was six, and at seven, was already composing. At fourteen, he entered the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia and at twenty-one, joined its faculty. Barber’s music was always firmly rooted in the traditional vocabulary and technique he learned at Curtis, which did not prevent him from composing works of great fantasy and expressivity. His music is rich in texture, free in rhythm and always melodic. He wrote two operas, two symphonies, three concertos and a great deal more in almost every musical form.

The Violin Concerto had its origin in a commission from a wealthy businessman who had taken an interest in a young violinist and wanted a new work for him to perform. The composer began the work in a little Swiss village during the summer of 1939 and continued to work on it in Paris, when the imminent outbreak of World War II sent him back to Philadelphia, where he showed his benefactor and his violinist/protégé the work in progress. When the violinist complained that the finale was too difficult but that the whole was not enough of a showpiece, the businessman asked for his money back.

Barber said that he had already spent the money in Europe, and to demonstrate that the finale was playable, a Curtis student named Herbert Baumel learned it in one morning and performed it, with piano accompaniment, that afternoon. This demonstration, of course, proved the first young violinist’s low level of competence, but in the end, Barber returned half of his fee, and the others gave up the right of first performance. It debuted February 7, 1941, with Albert Spalding, soloist and Eugene Ormandy conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra.

During the following years, many distinguished violinists found that the beauty of this work made it worthwhile to attack its difficulties, which are not of the obvious, showy kind that its original sponsors sought. Classical in form and romantic in expression, it is one of the most frequently performed violin concertos by an American composer.

The lyrical first movement, Allegro molto moderato, is based on two themes similar in character but clearly and separately defined, the first played at the very beginning by the soloist, and the second soon following on the clarinet. The second movement, Andante sostenuto, has three parts, a long melody on the oboe, a freely rhapsodic treatment of it by the violin, and then the soloist’s repetition of it. The third movement, Presto, in moto perpetuo (“Fast, in perpetual motion”) shows an abrupt shift in character, perhaps an attempt to please its original sponsors, but it makes a brilliant and effective closing.

The concerto is scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, timpani, snare drum, piano and strings.

Pictures at an Exhibition . . . Modest Mussorgsky
(Born March 21, l839, in Karevo; died March 28, l88l, in St. Petersburg)

In the spring of l874, Mussorgsky and the music critic Vladimir Stassov organized an exhibition of drawings and paintings by their friend Victor Hartman, who had suddenly died less than a year before. Hartman’s works were architectural drawings and pictures of scenes that interested Russians both at home and abroad. While walking through the gallery, Mussorgsky had a bold and brilliant inspiration: to compose a set of piano pieces that would be musical reflections of many of the works of Hartman’s art. He worked with a speed and certainty that were unusual for him, and on June 22, completed the composition.

The idea of rendering visual images in music was a modern one at the time, but it was no longer really new. The truly original feature of the work is the Promenade music with which it opens and which recurs between sections, appropriately altered in character, binding the work together, reflective of the visitor ambling about the gallery between stops to look at the works of art. In Stassov's descriptive notes for the first published edition of Pictures, he said: “Mussorgsky has represented himself roving right and left, sometimes hesitantly and sometimes briskly, in order to get close to pictures that have caught his attention.” The uneven rhythm depicts the movement well and also gives a characteristically Russian feel to the Promenade. After the first Promenade there are ten pictures:

l. The Gnome. The first of Hartmann’s drawings to receive attention is that of a grotesque, little bow-legged creature, a nutcracker with its jaw open. Stassov's notes suggest that the gnome “...accompanies his droll movements with savage shrieks.” Mussorgsky's music mirrors the gruesome gnome’s movement with awkward, limping music.

2. The Old Castle. Outside a medieval castle, a troubadour sings a serenade and accompanies himself on the lute. This was Hartmann's watercolor study of a medieval castle, painted when he was a student in Italy.

Promenade

3. The Tuileries. In the Tuileries Gardens in Paris, on a path, children play and quarrel. Mussorgsky presents a lively, high-spirited game and chase.

4. Bydlo. This movement represents Hartmann’s sketch of a Polish ox-cart with enormous wheels, in the town of Sandomir. (Bydlo is the Polish word for cattle.) The music, powerful and ponderous, gives appropriate weightiness to the huge beasts drawing the cart.

Promenade

5. Ballet of the Chicks in their Shells. The subject of this “picture” is a costume design for a ballet, Trilby, with choreography of Marius Petipa, produced in 1870 in St. Petersburg. In this scene, children dance as baby canaries trying to break out of their shells.

6. Samuel Goldenberg and Shmuyle. A drawing of a Sandomir ghetto scene that Mussorgsky described as picturing “two Polish Jews, one rich and the other poor.”
The rich, pompous, well-dressed Jew and the poor Jew in threadbare clothes, in Mussorgsky's inventive setting, have been joined in a conversation. Mussorgsky’s friend, Victor Stassov supposedly suggested their names. Goldenberg and Shmuyle.

Promenade

7. Limoges: The Marketplace. (Great News!) Mussorgsky originally suggested that this “picture” was intended to represent two market women exchanging neighborhood gossip, but when the music was first published, after the composer’s death, Stassov said that the women were quarreling angrily. The specific picture that inspired this movement has apparently been lost. According to a marginal note in Mussorgsky's manuscript, this movement shows the “good gossips of Limoges” exchanging the most important news of the day: Monsieur de Puissangeout lost his cow, Mme. de Remboursac received new false teeth, and Monsieur Panta-Pantaleon is perceived to have an excessively large nose.

8. The Catacombs, Sepulchrum Romanum (Roman Graves), followed by Cum mortuis in lingua mortua. This sketch reflects a view of the artist, lantern in hand, examining the ancient Roman catacombs in Paris, where he sees several skulls. In his manuscript, Mussorgsky wrote the title in faulty Latin, in which he tried to explain (in even worse Latin) the heading of the gloomy version of the Promenade that follows. A footnote (in Russian) explained what he was trying to say. “With the dead, in a dead language.” The music has sufficient dark sonority to give this effect. In the margin of his manuscript, the composer wrote: “The creative spirit of the dead Hartmann leads me to the skulls and calls to them; they begin to glow with a soft light.” This episode does not reflect a picture but rather the composer’s reaction to going to the Catacombs.

9. Baba Yaga (The Witch’s Hut on Fowl’s Legs). In Russian folklore, Baba Yaga is a witch who lives in a hut that stands deep in the forest on hen’s legs so that she can turn it in any direction. Hartman’s drawing was a design for a clock in the form of Baba Yaga’s hut. The witch rode cackling through the woods in a huge wooden mortar propelled by an equally large pestle, and the scene gives the impression that she is hungrily on the trail of naughty children to eat.

10. The Great Gate of Kiev. The Great Gate is an architectural sketch for submission in a competition run by the city council of Kiev. The monument’s erection was canceled for political reasons. The massive gate was intended to commemorate Czar Alexander II’s escape from the Kiev Nihilists’ plot to assassinate him in 1866, and the design is fanciful and rich in Imperial symbols. Mussorgsky’s favorite was this sketch, and he drew from it the inspiration of some of his most powerful music, a massive hymn of thanksgiving.

Copyright Susan Halpern, halpernprogramnotes.com

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