Dancing Bach’s St Matthew Passion

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Of all the famous compositions from the pen of Johann Sebastian Bach, the St John Passion and St Matthew Passion are truly some of the most remarkable masterpieces of religious music. Bach’s powerful settings detailing the last days of Christ’s life are retold by solo voices, double orchestra, and double chorus. The St. John Passion is more philosophical in nature, as the music explores the theological dimensions of the text. St. Matthew, on the other hand, is very close to an opera as it reflects on the events from the perspective of a humble faithful listener.

Bach’s St. Matthew Passion

In both works, the text is capable of telling the story all on its own, but Bach adds multiple layers of musical meaning that make it possible to enjoy the music on a number of levels. Bach’s music makes the text and the story come alive, and the compositional complexity and theological depth trigger a wide range of profound emotional responses.

As the Passions are sacred oratorios performed in churches and concert halls, they forgo some important visual elements associated with opera. There are no costumes or scenery, and there is no action. So what happens when one of the single greatest masterpieces of Western sacred music combines Bach’s powerful music and the passion narrative with spellbinding dance performances?John Neumeier

John Neumeier

Transforming the gospel into dance and expressing religious experiences and convictions, has been the life work of the American ballet dancer, choreographer, and director John Neumeier. After a career as a ballet dancer in the United States, Neumeier became director of the Frankfurt Ballet, and subsequently the chief choreographer at the Hamburg Ballet in 1973. He has choreographed more than 170 works, including many evening-length narrative ballets.

John Neumeier’s St. Matthew Passion

Neumeier premiered his St Matthew Passion as a medieval passion play in a Hamburg church before taking it to the Hamburg Opera House. Neumeier’s dancers, dressed in white, embody Bach’s human Passion, with the audience invited to physically and spiritually experience the drama of struggle and redemption. Each dancer expresses grief, doubt, and even aggression, which adds a powerful visual dimension and physical reality to the allegory. Neumeier focuses on the awe-inspiring complexity and universal appeal of Bach’s St Matthew Passion into a profoundly moving experience. 

Friederike Rademann

The German choral conductor and teacher Helmuth Rilling is best known for his performances of the music of Johann Sebastian Bach and his contemporaries. He was the first conductor to have twice prepared and recorded the complete choral works of J. S. Bach on modern instruments. Rilling was a student of Leonard Bernstein in New York, and in 1954 he founded the internationally recognized Gächinger Kantorei, which joined forces with the Bach Collegium Stuttgart.

The Gächinger Kantorei is still the ensemble of the International Bach Academy in Stuttgart, and it currently combines a baroque orchestra and a selected number of choristers. The ensemble is under the direction of Hans-Christoph Rademann, and his wife Friederike was a solo dancer at the Semperoper in Dresden. She has devoted herself to expressive dance and developed choreographies for a number of works by Chopin, Ravel, Schumann, and Bach, including the St. Matthew Passion. Her choreography includes the participation of one hundred schoolchildren, who connect and experience Bach’s monumental work as an artistic form of self-expression. 

Gloria Contreras

Gloria Contreras

Born in Mexico City, the dancer and choreographer Gloria Contreras was a student of George Balanchine. She taught choreography at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México and was director and founder of its choreography workshop. For Contreras, dancing was much more than just a profession, it is “a way of life that teaches a greater understanding of life itself.” Contreras adopted the neo-classical choreographic style of Balanchine, and utilized the music of Mexican composers in her work. However, she also left us a moving choreography of the St Matthew Passion.

Kamea Dance Company

The Passion settings of Bach continue to inspire contemporary ballet productions. One such interpretation, combining music with virtuosic dance movements, comes from the Kamea Dance Company from Be’er Sheva, in southern Israel and the choreographer Tamir Ginz. The title “Matthew Passion 2727” asks the question of what will have happened to this work 1000 years after its premiere in 1727, and what will happen on the way there. Ginz does not translate doctrines, world views, or political statements, but expresses universal human experiences such as suffering and envy, grief and betrayal.

Mykola Lysenko (1842-1912): The Father of Ukrainian Music

By Georg Predota, Interlude 

Mykola Lysenko

The political conditions in 19th century Europe spawned a rapid growth of Nationalism and Patriotism across the continent. “The pride of conquering nations and the struggle for freedom of suppressed ones gave rise to strong emotions that inspired the works of many creative artists.” We are well aware of countless composers working within this forceful stream of romanticism, ranging from Smetana and Dvořák in the Czech Lands, Edvard Grieg in Norway, Jean Sibelius in Finland, Elgar and Delius in England, Albeniz, Granados and Falla in Spain, and a whole Russian national school established by Mikhail Glinka.

Mykola Lysenko, 1869

As in many other parts of Europe, the emergence of a national spirit in Ukraine resulted in a movement that cultivated popular Ukrainian culture. At the head of this Ukrainian movement for national musical identity we find Mykola Lysenko (1842-1912), widely considered the father of Ukrainian Music. “Beyond providing the inspiration for a national compositional school and founding numerous choirs across the proto-Ukrainian countryside, he is also a national hero whose music academy in Kyiv was a hub for intellectuals, poets and musicians.” Lysenko composed his patriotic hymn in 1885, during a period when Ukrainian culture and language was once again suppressed by the government of Imperial Russia.

Mykola Lysenko: “Prayer for Ukraine” 

Lord, O the Great and Almighty,
Protect our beloved Ukraine,
Bless her with freedom and light
Of your holy rays.

With learning and knowledge enlighten
Us, your children small,
In love pure and everlasting
Let us, O Lord, grow.

We pray, O Lord Almighty,
Protect our beloved Ukraine,
Grant our people and country
All your kindness and grace.

Bless us with freedom, bless us with wisdom,
Guide into kind world,
Bless us, O Lord, with good fortune
Forever and evermore.

Mykola Lysenko among the Ukrainian civic leaders in Kharkiv

Ukraine has long struggled for independence, with the borders shifting countless time as different conquerors fought over a land rich in natural resource and culture. A short-lived revolution in 1919 was brutally suppressed and the Soviet occupation inflicted one tragedy after another on the Ukrainian people. During the famine of the 1930s, millions of Ukrainian peasants starved to death because of the criminal policies of Joseph Stalin. We must add “the Nazi occupation of Western Ukraine, when the Final Solution was first implemented in cities whose wealth and cultural standing depended entirely on the vast Jewish population – cities like Lviv or Ivano-Frankivsk; the deportation of the Hutsul people in the 1930s and the deportations of the Crimean Tatar population from the beautiful Crimean peninsula, at the command of various Russian heads of state, starting with the Tsars, repeated under Stalin and then once again in 2014 after the Russian occupation. And we all know about the atrocities being committed under Vladimir Putin right now. 

Lysenko’s music score

Lysenko was born in Hrymky, a village near the Dnipro River between Kyiv and Dnipropetrovsk. He came from an old aristocratic family, tracing his lineage back to the Cossacks of the 17th century. Received his rudimentary musical education from his mother, he left for boarding schools in Kyiv and then Karkiv, and he took piano lessons with Panochini and studied theory with Nejnkevič. From 1860 Lysenko studied at Kharkiv University and Kyiv University, joining a number of Ukrainian student societies and church choirs. Ukrainian folk music became his passion, and he began “his life-long ethnographical work of collecting and studying Ukrainian folksong.” Earlier, as a child, he had been deeply impressed by the music of peasant singing, and his nationalist sympathies were greatly stimulated by a volume of poetry by the Ukrainian national poet Taras Shevchenko. Lysenko had been given this volume of Shevchenko’s poetry by his grandfather, and his imagination was fired by words of freedom for the oppressed, especially Ukrainians. A prophetic figure in the Ukrainian Enlightenment, Shevchenko expressed the plight of the Ukrainian people in poetry in the early eighteenth century and “even today holds the status of national hero, as a symbol of the spirit of resistance.” When Shevchenko’s body was brought to Ukraine after his death in 1861, Lysenko, at the age of 19, was a pallbearer at the poet’s funeral. 

Mykola Lysenko with teachers of Lysenko Music and Drama School

After graduating in 1865 with a degree in natural science, Lysenko entered the civil service as an arbitrator in land-ownership claims for former serfs, but two years later this particular job was made redundant. As such, he was looking to further his musical studies and he attended the Leipzig Conservatoire, with his most prominent teachers including Ferdinand David, Ignaz Moscheles, Carl Reinecke and Ernst Wenzel. In Leipzig, Lysenko began to fully understand the importance of “collection, developing, and creating Ukrainian music rather than duplicating the work of Western classical composers.” In fact, he was determined to establish a Ukrainian national school of music, and to best express his fervent patriotic and political ideals through music. He returned to Kyiv in 1869 to work as a music teacher and conductor, and continued to collect, publish and study folk music. After taking orchestration lessons from Rimsky-Korsakov in St Petersburg between 1874 and 1876, Lysenko returned to Kyiv and was active as a private teacher before opening his own school of music and drama in 1904.

Mykola Lysenko, 1900s

Being a descendant of the 17th century Cossack leader Vovgura Lys, the story of “Taras Bulba” held special significance for Lysenko. The story of this romanticized historical novella by Nikolai Gogol featuring Taras Bulba and his two sons Andriy and Ostap going to war against Poland. Taras is eventually captured, nailed and tied to a tree and set aflame. Even in this state he calls out to his men to continue the fight. Lysenko worked on his opera Taras Bulba during 1880-1891, but it was his insistence on the use of Ukrainian for performance that prevented any productions during his lifetime. He steadfastly refused to allow the opera to be translated. He did play the score to Tchaikovsky, who reportedly “listened to the whole opera with rapt attention, from time to time voicing approval and admiration. He particularly liked the passages in which national Ukrainian touches were most vivid… Tchaikovsky embraced Lysenko and congratulated him on his talented composition.” As modern critic wrote, “The opera marks a great advance on the composer’s earlier works with its folklore and nationalistic elements being much more closely integrated in a continuous musical framework which also clearly shows a debt to Tchaikovsky. But the episodic nature of the libretto, which may be due to some extent to political considerations during its revision in the Soviet era is still a serious problem. 

Grave of Mykola Lysenko

During his lifetime, Lysenko arranged roughly 500 folk songs, including both solos and choruses with piano accompaniment, and a-capella choruses. Focusing on the tonal and harmonic characteristics of Ukrainian folk songs, he “fashioned arrangement of various types of songs based on a specific Ukrainian cultural tradition.” In fact, Lysenko was adamant to clearly demonstrate the differences between the folk music of the Ukraine and that of Russia. He had been drawn to musical folklore from an early age, and made the first musical-ethnographic studies on the blind kobzar—an itinerant Ukrainian bard singing to his own accompaniment and playing a multi-stringed bandaura of kobza—Ostap Veresai in 1873. He expanded his research into other regions, and his ethno-musicological projects included a monograph on Ukrainian folk music instruments. In addition, Lysenko wrote over 120 art songs to lyrics of Taras Shevchenko as well as Lesia Ukrainka, Ivan Franko, Heinrich Heine, Oleksandr Oles, Adam Mickiewicz and others. A compilation of Lysenko’s works was published in 20 volumes in Kyiv between 1950 and 1959. 

Mykola Lysenko monument

Lysenko was a capable concert pianist, and among his numerous compositions for the piano we find a sonata, two rhapsodies, a suite, a scherzo, and a rondo alongside a long list of smaller forms such as Songs without Words, nocturnes, waltzes, and polonaises. In these works he often uses the melodies and rhythms of Ukrainian folk songs, imbued with the musical style and spirit of Frédéric Chopin. Mykola Lysenko is acknowledged as the founding father of Ukrainian music, and during his lifetime he was at the center of Ukrainian cultural and musical life in Kyiv. He gave piano recitals and organized choirs for performances in Kyiv and tours through Ukraine in 1893, 1897, 1899, and 1902. On the occasion of a celebration marking 35 years as a composer, funds were raised that enabled him to open a Ukrainian School of Music “in opposition to the Russian Musical Society’s school in Kiev.” Lysenko inspired countless young Ukrainian musical minds, and his daughter Mariana followed in her father’s footsteps as a pianist, and his son Ostap also taught music in Kyiv.

Bedřich Smetana

by Georg Predota

“My fatherland means more to me than anything else”

Bedřich Smetana

Bedřich Smetana (1824-84) is widely considered the father of Czech music, and his music posthumously became synonymous with a Czech national musical style. Establishing a Czech classical music canon, Smetana became a national symbol who pioneered a musical style that endured shifting politics, administrations, and ethnicities. 

Bedřich Smetana was born 200 years ago, on 2 March 1824. He was the son of a master brewer who rented a brewery in the city of Litomyšl from the estate owner Count Waldstein. Music was an important part of the family’s domestic and social life, and Bedřich became a gifted pianist who first performed in public at the age of six.

Statue of Smetana in Litomyšl

Like many educated Bohemians, Smetana spoke German rather than Czech, and his musical education and orientation were entirely Germanic. Young Bedřich dabbled in composition, writing dances, and salon pieces for piano. By 1843, he decided to pursue a music career and declared in his diary, “By the grace of God and with his help, I will one day be a Liszt in technique and a Mozart in composition.” 

Prague

Smetana at the piano

Smetana made his way to Prague in October 1843 and took official composition lesson from Josef Proksch, who operated a music institute in the city. Through Proksch, he received an official recommendation from Johann Friedrich Kittl, the director of the Prague Conservatory at that time. Smetana gained a position as a music teacher to the family of Count Leopold Thun, and he met Liszt, Berlioz, and Robert and Clara Schumann.

Smetana detailed his career goals by writing in 1847, “I want to travel the world as a virtuoso, accumulating money and gaining a public position as a Kapellmeister, conductor, or teacher.” He did embark on a concert tour of Western Bohemia, and upon his return to Prague he opened a music studio, supplementing his income with private lessons to aristocratic families. 

1848

Robert and Clara Schumann, 1850

Political stirrings of national identity and pride ignited a great awakening across Europe in 1848. Smetana was profoundly sympathetic to the patriotic yearnings of his fellow people and urged an end to Habsburg’s absolutist rule. Smetana openly participated in this revolution, and he could barely escape arrest.

The pianist and composer eagerly looked to develop his music career in Prague, completing his first substantial orchestral works. A number of small piano pieces were sent to Clara Schumann and Franz Liszt for feedback, and Smetana participated in both the Beethoven and Mozart celebrations as a pianist. He also dabbled in conducting but dejectedly wrote to his parents in 1856, “Prague did not wish to acknowledge me, so I left it.”

Smetana moved to the city of Göteborg to work as a music teacher, and he once again opened a music institute and established a singing school for ladies. He directed several amateur music societies, and he suffered the death of his first wife. While traveling in and around Göteborg, Smetana established an important relationship with Franz Liszt.

Franz Hanfstaengl: Liszt, 1870

Liszt accepted several Smetana dedications, and Smetana would identify himself as a Liszt advocate throughout the rest of his career. As he wrote to Liszt in 1858, “Regard me as your most passionate supporter of our artistic direction who in word and deed stands for its holy truth and also works of its aims.” By 1861, he was looking to turn his back on Göteborg, writing that “I must attempt finally to 

Return to Prague

Smetana returned to Prague in 1862 and welcomed the conductorship at the new Provisional Theatre, the first professional Czech stage in 1862. During his years in exile, Smetana had honed his compositional direction. He blended the folk songs of his homeland with his personal style and created a poetic musical language. Smetana was inflamed by the rhythms and melodies of Czech folk music without copying them. As he famously said, “By imitating the melodic fall and rhythm of our folk songs, you do not create a national style.”

Bedřich Smetana monument in Prague

During his initial years in Prague, Smetana primarily gained recognition through his social engagements. He participated in various musical organisations and established the arts organisation called “Artistic Circle.” He enthusiastically participated in a political movement asserting the autonomy of a uniquely Czech nation, and he dreamt of operas and symphonies based on themes from Czech history and mythology.

Nationalistic Czech Opera

Title page of the libretto of Smetana’s The Bartered Bride (Metropolitan Opera House, 1908)

Smetana proudly proclaimed, “I am Czech in body and soul,” and the establishment of the Provisional Theatre, and later National Theatre, celebrated the autonomy of a unique Czech nation. It was the proving ground to exclusively promote Czech music, and specifically Czech nationalist opera. Nationalistic Czech opera became the genre that defined Smetana’s career, and The Bartered Bride is quintessentially Czech in spirit, full of realistic characters living and loving in a Bohemian village.

The Bartered Bride is the intimate realisation of the composer’s artistic vision. Set in a country village with realistic characters, the spirited heroine has to use all her determination, charm, and cunning to marry the man she loves. It is a joyous celebration of Czech culture and identity, and the distinct rhythmic inflections of the Czech language and Czech folk dances combine irresistibly. Smetana “clearly felt the pulse of peasantry” and the simplicity of the music not only connected to a broad folk base but also proved highly inspirational to the emerging independence movement. 

Over the next couple of years Smetana composed a treasure trove of nationalistic operas, but his conductorship was marked by controversy. A number of high-profile members within the city’s musical establishment considered his identification with the progressive ideas of Liszt and Wagner inimical to the development of a distinctively Czech opera style. Smetana became increasingly distracted from composition, and he was deeply offended when The Bartered Bride was described as a work “no better than that of a gifted fourteen-year-old boy.” And a particularly hostile distractor claimed that under Smetana’s leadership, “Czech opera sickens to death at least once annually.”

Vltava in Prague

If Czech opera was ailing, Smetana was decidedly ill. By October 1874, he had lost all hearing and was profoundly deaf. He sought medical treatment abroad and contemplated suicide. As he wrote in his diary, “If my disease is incurable, then I should prefer to be liberated from this life.” He had resigned from his conducting post, but during his period of worsening health, Smetana continued to compose.

Final Years

Grave of Smetana

In order to save money, Smetana moved his family from Prague to the rural village of Jabkenice in 1876. Here he completed the first two movements of Má vlast, and wrote the four remaining movements of the cycle over the next five years. He also completed his last three operas and his autobiographical String Quartet No 1, subtitled “From my Life.” In addition, he crafted a series of Czech Dances for the piano, a song cycle, and a number of choruses.

Smetana gradually became recognized as the primary representative of Czech national music. And Smetana was fully aware of the role some of his works had begun to fill. As he wrote in 1882, “I must seek to keep that honourable and glorious position which my compositions have gained for me in my nation and my country. According to my merits and my efforts, I am a Czech composer and the creator of the Czech style in the branches of dramatic and symphonic music – exclusively Czech.”

Charlie Chaplin: The Fiddle and the Tramp

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Did you know that Sir Charles Spencer Chaplin (1889-1977), probably the most famous and most important actor in the silent film era, was a committed amateur violinist who also composed a number of his film scores? Long before Chaplin contemplated an acting career, he turned to music to escape the abject poverty of his youth. Charlie grew up in the London district of Kennington with his mother, who had no means of income. As a result, the young lad was twice sent to the Central London District School for paupers. When his mother was committed to a mental asylum, Charles and his brother were sent to live with their estranged father. Charles Sr. was a severe alcoholic who died at age 38 from cirrhosis of the liver.

Charlie Chaplin in The Vagabond, 1916 © Limelight Magazine

Given the dismal state of his upbringing, it is not surprising that Chaplin was looking for a way out. And initially, Chaplin turned to music. “I had great ambitions to be a concert artist, or, failing that, to use it in a vaudeville act,“ he writes. “Each week I took lessons from the theatre conductor or from someone he recommended. As I played left-handed, my violin was strung left-handed with the bass-bar and sounding post reversed.” Practicing his violin from between four to six hours a day, and combining it with his acting talents, Chaplin had become a rising talent in the English music hall by age 16. And soon his fortune changed as the prestigious Fred Karno Company signed him to an extended contract. On his second American tour, Chaplin was scouted for the film industry and began appearing for Keystone Studios in 1914. For his second camera appearance, Chaplin selected the “Tramp” costume with which he became identified, and by 1926 he was a global phenomenon.

Despite an insanely busy filming schedule, Chaplin always found time to play the violin. A press release of 1917 suggested, “Every spare moment away from the studio is devoted to this instrument. He does not play from notes excepting in a very few instances. He can run through selections of popular operas by ear and if in the humor, can rattle off the famous Irish jig or some negro selection with the ease of a vaudeville entertainer. Chaplin admits that as a violinist he is no Kubelik or Elman but he hopes, nevertheless, to play in concerts some day before very long.” Chaplin’s ambitions to appear on the concert stage seem to have cooled by 1921, as he suggested in an interview. “I used to play my violin a great deal up to a couple of years ago, but since then I’ve hardly touched it. I simply have lost interest in such things.” Maybe realizing that he could not seriously compete on the concert stage, Chaplin turned his attention to writing film music.

Charlie Chaplin: Smile 

Chaplin had always been interested in composing, and he even started a music publishing company in 1916. Although this venture was not successful, he composed all his scores to motion pictures starting with City Lights in 1931. Since he was not a professional musician, he needed help in creating his scores. Chaplin would sing or play his tunes to the composers Davie Raksin, Raymond Rasch or Eric James, who would further develop and score the tunes. Chaplin composed three hit songs, among them “Smile” written for Modern Times in 1936. Impressively, Chaplin also received an Oscar for his theme to Limelight, awarded “Best Original Score” in 1973. As for his violin performances, Chaplin played twice on screen. In The Vagabond of 1916 he uses his violin to seduce a gypsy girl, and in the autobiographical Limelight of 1952, he played a faded music-hall star. Chaplin was a close friend of Jascha Heifetz, and at a party Heifetz picked up Chaplin’s violin and was unable to play it. Chaplin took the instrument and played some Bach, remarking, “You see! I am made inside out and upside down. When I turn my back on you on the screen you are looking at something as expressive as a face.”

Charlie Chaplin: The Fiddle and the Tramp

By Georg Predota, Interlude

Did you know that Sir Charles Spencer Chaplin (1889-1977), probably the most famous and most important actor in the silent film era, was a committed amateur violinist who also composed a number of his film scores? Long before Chaplin contemplated an acting career, he turned to music to escape the abject poverty of his youth. Charlie grew up in the London district of Kennington with his mother, who had no means of income. As a result, the young lad was twice sent to the Central London District School for paupers. When his mother was committed to a mental asylum, Charles and his brother were sent to live with their estranged father. Charles Sr. was a severe alcoholic who died at age 38 from cirrhosis of the liver.

Charlie Chaplin in The Vagabond, 1916 © Limelight Magazine

Given the dismal state of his upbringing, it is not surprising that Chaplin was looking for a way out. And initially, Chaplin turned to music. “I had great ambitions to be a concert artist, or, failing that, to use it in a vaudeville act,“ he writes. “Each week I took lessons from the theatre conductor or from someone he recommended. As I played left-handed, my violin was strung left-handed with the bass-bar and sounding post reversed.” Practicing his violin from between four to six hours a day, and combining it with his acting talents, Chaplin had become a rising talent in the English music hall by age 16. And soon his fortune changed as the prestigious Fred Karno Company signed him to an extended contract. On his second American tour, Chaplin was scouted for the film industry and began appearing for Keystone Studios in 1914. For his second camera appearance, Chaplin selected the “Tramp” costume with which he became identified, and by 1926 he was a global phenomenon.

Despite an insanely busy filming schedule, Chaplin always found time to play the violin. A press release of 1917 suggested, “Every spare moment away from the studio is devoted to this instrument. He does not play from notes excepting in a very few instances. He can run through selections of popular operas by ear and if in the humor, can rattle off the famous Irish jig or some negro selection with the ease of a vaudeville entertainer. Chaplin admits that as a violinist he is no Kubelik or Elman but he hopes, nevertheless, to play in concerts some day before very long.” Chaplin’s ambitions to appear on the concert stage seem to have cooled by 1921, as he suggested in an interview. “I used to play my violin a great deal up to a couple of years ago, but since then I’ve hardly touched it. I simply have lost interest in such things.” Maybe realizing that he could not seriously compete on the concert stage, Chaplin turned his attention to writing film music. y

Chaplin had always been interested in composing, and he even started a music publishing company in 1916. Although this venture was not successful, he composed all his scores to motion pictures starting with City Lights in 1931. Since he was not a professional musician, he needed help in creating his scores. Chaplin would sing or play his tunes to the composers Davie Raksin, Raymond Rasch or Eric James, who would further develop and score the tunes. Chaplin composed three hit songs, among them “Smile” written for Modern Times in 1936. Impressively, Chaplin also received an Oscar for his theme to Limelight, awarded “Best Original Score” in 1973. As for his violin performances, Chaplin played twice on screen. In The Vagabond of 1916 he uses his violin to seduce a gypsy girl, and in the autobiographical Limelight of 1952, he played a faded music-hall star. Chaplin was a close friend of Jascha Heifetz, and at a party Heifetz picked up Chaplin’s violin and was unable to play it. Chaplin took the instrument and played some Bach, remarking, “You see! I am made inside out and upside down. When I turn my back on you on the screen you are looking at something as expressive as a face.”

19 January: Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 Was Premiered

By Georg Predota, Interlude

Saint-Saëns, 1875

On 19 January 1873, the French cellist, viola da gamba player and instrument maker Auguste Tolbecque premiered Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 33, a work specifically composed for him. Tolbecque was a close personal friend, and the solo cellist of the Conservatoire orchestra. He was a composer himself, and also a published music historian. Tolbecque was influential in the performance of early music as he conducted research into historical instruments and their restoration.

Saint-Saëns as a boy, 1846

His compositions tend to be light in style and influenced by Mendelssohn and Schumann. Tolbecque retired before he was able to produce a recording, and he does not figure prominently in the review of the Saint-Saëns concerto published in the Revue et gazette musicale de Paris immediately after the premiere. “If Mr. Saint-Saëns should decide to continue in this vein,” the reviewer wrote, “which is consistent with his violin concerto, the Trio in F, and other works of lesser significance, he is certain to recover many of the votes that he lost with his all-too-obvious divergence from classicism and the tendencies in a number of his recent works. We must say that the Cello Concerto seems to us to be a beautiful and good work of excellent sentiment and perfect cohesiveness, and as usual the form is of greatest interest.” 

Auguste Tolbecque

At the time Saint-Saëns composed his first Cello Concerto he had already reached the age of thirty-seven. He was highly regarded in French musical circles, but as a composer he was still searching for his breakthrough work. He clearly possessed a mastery of compositional technique, and his ease, ingenuity, naturalness and productivity was compared to “a tree producing leaves.” Although he was living in a period of extreme musical experimentations, Saint-Saëns remained stubbornly traditional. Romain Rolland wrote in 1908, “He brings into the midst of our modern restlessness something of the sweetness and clarity of past periods, something that seems like fragments of a vanished world.” In his first Cello Concert, Saint-Saëns takes a deliberate stance away from what the critic calls “the (modernist) tendencies in a number of his recent works.” His unmistakable melodic charm and characteristic freshness and vitality are clothed in a formal clarity that undoubtedly accounts for the widespread popularity the 1st Cello Concerto enjoyed from the very onset. 

Opening of Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1

For Saint-Saëns, “form was the essence of art.” As he once wrote, “the music-lover is most of all enchanted by expressiveness and passion, but that is not the case for the artist. An artist who does not feel a deep sense of personal satisfaction with elegant lines, harmonious colors or a perfect progression of chords has no comprehension of true art.” As the anonymous critic had written after the premiere, “it should be clarified that this is in reality a “Concertstück,” since the three relatively short movements run together. The orchestra plays such a major role that it gives the work symphonic character, a tendency present in every concerto of any significance since Beethoven.” Saint-Saëns might have been looking at Franz Liszt, a composer he greatly admired, as the three movements of the concerto are interconnected. In fact, the principle theme is sounded in legato running triplets, and it appears in all movements of the concerto. 

Saint-Saëns, circa 1880

Sir Donald Francis Tovey later wrote “Here, for once, is a violoncello concerto in which the solo instrument displays every register without the slightest difficulty in penetrating the orchestra.” The orchestra clearly plays a role beyond that of mere accompaniment, “as this work never succumbs to the imbalance frequently encountered in cello concertos whereby for long stretches the soloist is seen bowing furiously but is scarcely heard.” As Saint-Saëns tellingly suggested, “Virtuosity gives a composer wings with which to soar above the commonplace and the platitudinous.” Uniting the lyrical quality of the cello with instrumental virtuosity and carful orchestral scoring produced a work valued by performers and loved by audiences. But what is more, a good many composers, including Shostakovich and Rachmaninoff considered Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 to be the greatest of all cello concertos.