The 10 Most Exciting Double Concertos

 by Hermione Lai  

There is an old saying that “two heads are better than one” when it comes to reasoning and perceptual decision-making. That might well be true, but are two soloists in classical music better than one? This seems a tricky question as the word “concerto” can mean both to contend, dispute, and debate, but also “to work together with someone.” And there is lots of musical and interpretive cooperation needed when it comes to the “Double Concerto.” The definition of that genre is straightforward, as it simply reads “a composition for two solo instruments with orchestra.” The kinds of instruments are left to the imagination of the composers, and while we are primarily used to hearing solo concertos these days, double concertos used to be very popular with composers and performers alike.

C.P.E. Bach: Concerto in E-flat Major for Harpsichord and Fortepiano, H. 479

C.P.E. Bach’s Double Concerto

So I decided to write a little blog featuring 10 of the most exciting double concertos in the repertoire. And my starting point is Johann Sebastian Bach’s eldest son Carl Philipp Emanuel. As a keyboard composer, he was a true pioneer, “imitating the cantabile melody of applied music,” and incorporating improvisatory passages of dazzling virtuosity. Just have a listen to his Concerto for Harpsichord and Fortepiano, which dates from 1788.   

Elliott Carter: Double Concerto for harpsichord, piano and two chamber orchestras

Elliott Carter: Double Concerto for harpsichord, piano and two chamber orchestras

Personally, I think that the C.P.E. Bach Double concerto is a masterpiece, and the same has been said of the double concerto for the same basic setup by American composer Elliott Carter. Mind you, that particular double concerto dates from 1961. And while the musical language is certainly very different, Carter’s double concerto strives for the same delicate balance between the two different keyboard instruments. Of course, the percussion is an added 20th-century bonus. But you don’t have to take my word for it, as Igor Stravinsky regarded the Carter double concerto as a masterpiece. The composer Harrison Birtwistle wrote of the piece, “I love the Double Concerto for piano, harpsichord and two chamber orchestras. There’s nothing like it in music: the concept, the way it makes time and rhythm move, the instrumentation, and that bloody harpsichord!” Pianist Charles Rosen first performed the piano solo part, and he called it “the most brilliantly attractive and apparently most complex work.” And he adds, “The absence of a central pulse adds to the liberating excitement.”   

Felix Mendelssohn: Concerto for Two Pianos in E Major

Fanny and Felix Mendelssohn

Lots of double concertos were composed between C.P.E Bach and Elliott Carter, and it’s time to turn to the music of Felix Mendelssohn. He clearly was one of the rare universal geniuses, and by the age of 15 he had already composed 12 string sinfonias, various sonatas for viola and for violin, religious choral pieces, numerous piano compositions, and was busily working on his fourth opera. One of his early compositions is the Concerto for 2 pianos in E Major. It was composed as a birthday gift for his equally talented sister Fanny Mendelssohn. The work unfolds in 3 movements, and the opening “Allegro” starts with an extended orchestral introduction, which could easily have been written by Mozart. After the pianos enter, one at the time, we hear a delightful musical dialogue between two equal partners. But it’s not all Mozart imitation, as we also hear sudden chromatic shifts, surprise cadences, and almost instantaneous shifts in atmosphere—all features we clearly associate with the music of Mendelssohn.  

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Concerto for 2 pianos in E-flat Major, K. 365

Wolfgang and Nannerl Mozart

You heard me mention Mozart in connection with the Mendelsohn double concerto. Mendelssohn had a ferocious musical mind, and he devoured any and all kinds of music, basically everything he could get his hands on. And that surely included the glorious Concerto for 2 pianos in E-flat Major, K. 365 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Mozart composed the work in the late 1770s, around the same time as another great double concerto, the Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola. It has been suggested that Mozart wrote the concerto for two pianos to perform with his sister Nannerl, but there is no record of them playing the work. However, we do know that Mozart performed the work with his student Josepha Auernhammer in Vienna in 1781 and 1782. Mozart was trying to make an impression on the city of Vienna, and he selected this concerto to show some of his best work. It is possible that Mozart enlarged the orchestra, adding clarinets, trumpets, and timpani for these performances, to make an even more brilliant impression. We still don’t know to this day, however, if these orchestral additions are in fact by Mozart or not.   

Johann Sebastian Bach: Concerto for two violins in D minor, BWV 1043

Collegium Musicum in Leipzig, 1790

Pianos are fun, but double concertos have been written for other instruments as well. Did you really think that I would not feature my favorite composer of all time, Johann Sebastian Bach? And we are lucky indeed that Bach left us with the Concerto for Two Violins in D minor, BWV 1043, one of the most magnificent double concertos in the repertoire. It really is surprising that a substantial number of Bach’s compositions cannot be dated with certainty. And that is certainly true for many of his concertos, as many are arrangements of previous versions. There is lots of scholarly squabbling going on, and it all depends on which argument you would like to believe. Some say that the work originated during Bach’s tenure at the court of Cöthen between 1717 and 1723. Others have argued that it comes from Bach’s appointment as the director of the Collegium Musicum in Leipzig after 1730. And we also know that Bach himself produced a transposed arrangement of this concerto for two harpsichords in 1739. While we might not be sure of the exact date, we certainly hear a work of remarkably expressive intensity. The themes are full-bodied and highly irregular and presented with Bach’s tremendous and glorious urgency.

Johannes Brahms: Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra in A minor, Op. 102

Joseph Joachim and Johannes Brahms, 1855

From “B” for Bach, let’s move next to “B” for Brahms. Life works in mysterious ways, and the Brahms Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra in A minor, Op. 102, owes its existence to a divorce, at least partially. One of his best friends, the violinist Joseph Joachim accused his wife Amalie Weiss of infidelity with Brahms’ music publisher. Brahms did not believe Joachim’s accusation, and he wrote a sympathetic letter to Amalie. Unfortunately, when Joachim filed for divorce, that letter ended up as evidence. Brahms had written, “With no thought have I ever acknowledged that your husband might be in the right. At this point, I perhaps hardly need to say that, even earlier than you did, I became aware of the unfortunate character trait with which Joachim so inexcusably tortures himself and others… The simplest matter is so exaggerated, so complicated, that one scarcely knows where to begin with it and how to bring it to an end.” The judge was certainly convinced and quickly ruled in Amalie’s favor. Always professional, Joachim continued to perform and promote the music of Brahms, but the two did not speak again for four long years. In 1887, Brahms remembered that he had promised to write a piece for the cellist Robert Hausmann, and so he decided to kill two birds with one stone by also including Joachim. Without doubt, the friendship was in need of patching up, and Joachim enthusiastically agreed.  

Frederick Delius: Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra

Cellists May and Beatrice Harrison, c. 1920s

The idea of featuring a violin and cello soloist in a double concerto also appealed to Frederick Delius (1862-1934). In fact, hearing the sisters May and Beatrice Harrison in a Hallé Orchestra concert performing Brahms’s Double Concerto in 1914, certainly kindled his interest. The Harrison sisters were celebrated figures in British music, and both became closely associated with Delius’ music. Shortly after the Brahms performance, Delius apparently said to Beatrice, “Your performance was superb, so much so that I am inspired to write a double concerto and dedicate it to you and your sister.” The composer frequently consulted the Harrison sisters, and May reports, “When Delius began the Double Concerto at our house in Cornwall Gardens he wrote a lot of it in unison. We both said, ‘you can’t do that, it doesn’t sound right.’ And when we played bits he said, ‘No, you are quite right. I see what you mean.’ Delius used to come over with two pages, sit at the piano and then say, ‘This is what I want.’ He then bring two more pages and so in this way it was built up.” In the end, Delius built his double concerto in 5 undulating and entwined movements.

Joseph Haydn: Double Concerto for Harpsichord, Violin and Strings in F Major

Maria Anna Keller

It is called Haydn’s “only surviving concerto for two solo instruments,” but it was probably originally intended for the organ. I am talking about the Concerto in F Major for Harpsichord, Violin and Strings, Hob.XVIII:6. It appears to have been written for Therese Keller, his future sister-in-law, who decided to become a nun in 1756. However, there is a backstory to this double concerto. Therese Keller was the daughter of a wigmaker, and a student of Haydn. He taught her to play the piano and fell head over heels in love with her. Therese, as it turns out, had been earmarked by her family for religious life, and she eventually did join a nunnery. Haydn, however, was considered a good catch as he was already earning money from the aristocracy and he had recently composed his first symphony. So the Keller family came up with the glorious idea that Therese’s older sister Maria Anna might be a suitable replacement. Haydn wasn’t thrilled and it took him almost five years to settle on a wedding day. That relationship, as we know, was an unmitigated disaster.

Johann Nepomuk Hummel: Concerto for Violin and Piano in G Major, Op. 17

Johann Nepomuk Hummel: Concerto for Violin and Piano in G Major, Op. 17 © Artaria Editions

The combination of the solo piano and solo violin also held some fascination for Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778-1837). And there is even a closer connection to Haydn himself. Both composers worked for the Esterhazy family in the castle of Eisenstadt. Haydn would stay there for nearly thirty years, while Hummel managed to get himself fired for neglecting his duties after only seven years. Both composers greatly enjoyed the local wine, but Hummel wanted to see the world and eventually became a pianist famous for his technical skills. In fact, only his fellow pianist Ludwig van Beethoven could rival his technical prowess. Hummel’s double concerto dates from 1804, and it is scored in the traditional three concerto movements. Hummel dishes out a delightful interplay between the two solo instruments, maybe slightly less virtuosic than in many solo concertos, but the music flows with consuming ease and beauty. Also noteworthy is the fact that Hummel fully composed his own cadenza for the opening movement. And we can hear an additional Hummel cadenza in the concluding playful Rondo.   

Francis Poulenc: Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra in D minor

Francis Poulenc: Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra in D minor © Sheet Music Plus

With so many great double concertos to choose from, it is very difficult to decide on a good closer. In the end, I decided on a work of childlike exuberance, filled with teasing, innocence, caricature, and the sounds of the Parisian street café. I am talking about the Concerto for Two Pianos by Francis Poulenc. Premiered on 5 September 1932, Poulenc literally found his inspirations around every corner. The opening figuration is thought to have been inspired by Poulenc’s encounter with a Balinese gamelan at the 1931 Exposition Coloniale de Paris. The instrumentation and jazzy effects come from Ravel’s G major Concerto, which premiered in Paris just a couple of months earlier. However, the composer admitted that the opening theme goes all the way back to Mozart because, “I have a veneration for the melodic line and because I prefer Mozart to all other composers.” However, there was one more influence at play. Poulenc wrote in a letter to the Russian-born composer and conductor Igor Markevitch, “Would you like to know what I had on my piano during the two months gestation of the Concerto? The concertos of Mozart, those of Liszt, that of Ravel, and your Partita.” What a fabulous and fun...

Joseph Haydn: 10 Most Ingenious String Quartets

 by Hermione Lai

 

The 68 string quartets by Joseph Haydn revolutionised chamber music and earned him the title “Father of the String Quartet.” Haydn transformed the genre from polite parlour tunes into a dynamic conversation among four instruments.

Joseph Haydn

Written primarily between the 1750s and 1790s, these works showcase his ingenuity, featuring sparkling melodies, intricate counterpoint and really clever structural surprises.

Drawing from Haydn’s extensive catalogue is no easy task, but we’ve selected 10 of Haydn’s most ingenious string quartets. That selection is based on their musical inventiveness, historical significance, and influence on subsequent generations of composers.

So let’s get started with his Op. 20 set of string quartets, representing Haydn’s early experiments that defined the conversational nature of the genre.

String Quartet in D Major, Op. 20, No. 4, Hob. III:34 (1772)

The six “Sun” quartets of 1772 shook up the classical music world in 1772. Haydn was in his late 30s and working for the Esterházy family. The Op. 20 quartets came at a time when Haydn was pushing boundaries, blending the elegance of the gallant style with the emotional depth of the “Sturm und Drang” literary movement.

Op. 20 No. 4 was written for four skilled players, so Haydn could be adventurous. He treated all four instruments, two violins, viola, and cello, like equal partners. This was pretty radical as the first violin would normally hog the spotlight.

This quartet is not a solo act, but a conversation. It’s funny, tender, and clever all at once. It’s like friends jamming together, trading ideas and laughs. This quartet is the perfect entry point in the wonderful and human world of Joseph Haydn.  

String Quartet in F Minor, Op. 20, No. 5, Hob. III:35 (1772)

Compared to the sunny D-Major quartet, the Op. 20 No. 5 in F minor has a darker and more introspective character. It reflects the “storm and stress” trend at the time, putting a premium on dramatic and emotional intensity.

The opening movement is especially intense, unfolding from a brooding theme through a number of intricate motivic developments. There is plenty of lyrical melancholy in the slow movement, and just listen to the double fugue in the finale. After all, Haydn was a master of counterpoint.

This timeless gem is so emotionally rich. It is a musical journey through tension, calm, and eventual revolution. And you certainly need expert musicians to bring out the raw energy and nuance, mixing depth and accessibility. 

String Quartet in E-flat Major, Op. 33, No. 2, Hob. III:38, “Joke” (1781)

The Opus 20 quartets turned Haydn into a superstar in the musical world. One decade later, he further refined the genre with more polish and playfulness in his Op. 33 set. As Haydn himself said, these works were written in “a new and special way.”

The Op. 33 are often called the “Russian” quartets, because they are dedicated to the Grand Duke Paul of Russia. Some scholars theorise that these quartets might have been the inspiration for the six Mozart string quartets dedicated to Haydn.

The most famous of the set earned the nickname “Joke” because of the mischievous ending of the Finale. However, the entire quartet is packed with Haydn’s trademark humour and surprises. It is light-hearted yet sophisticated, showcasing the composer’s ability to make complex music feel effortless. Just goes to show that classical music does not have to be deadly serious.   

String Quartet in G Major, Op. 33, No. 5, Hob. III:41 (1781)

Another gem from the Op. 33 set is the quartet No. 5 in G Major. It sometimes carries the nickname “How Do You Do?” for its quirky and conversational opening. This quartet presents a perfect blend of elegance, wit, and warmth.

Haydn called the Op. 33 “new and special,” likely because of their polished structure, lyrical themes, and the equal roles for all four instruments. Each movement has its own character, from the musical handshake of the opening to the warm and lyrical slow movement. The Scherzo is a lively dance with a rustic edge, and the Finale is a set of variations on a simple and catchy tune with folk-song character.

Op. 33 No. 5 is a crowd pleaser because of its sunny glow, catchy themes, and some subtle humour. It’s a perfect blend of sophistication and fun, full of infectious energy and momentum.  

String Quartet in D Major, Op. 64, No. 5, Hob. III:63, “The Lark” (1790)

Nicknamed “The Lark” for its soaring and birdlike melody in the opening movement, the string quartet Op. 64, No. 5 represents a polished example of Haydn’s ability to blend the emotional depth of his earlier works with a polished and accessible style that greatly appealed to audiences.

This quartet is less experimental than his Op. 20 but more refined than Op. 33, showcasing Haydn’s mastery of balance. We find catchy tunes, a tight structure, and it’s a performer’s delight and a listener’s joy.

Each movement has its own personality, from the chatting bird in the opening to a slow movement of pure warmth. The minuet has a playful spin, and the high-energy Finale is like a musical game of hot potato. It certainly sparkles with clarity and charm.     

String Quartet in D Minor, Op. 76, No. 2, Hob. III:76, “Fifths” (1797)

The six quartets of Op. 76 are ambitious late works with advanced forms and thematic unity. Composed in 1797, they are among Haydn’s final and most celebrated contributions to the genre.

At the age of 65, Haydn was a global superstar, having returned from his triumphant tours to London. This trip had given him new ideas, and he now blended technical brilliance, emotional depth, and a highly polished style that appealed to both players and audiences. And the Op. 76 No. 2 is a masterpiece, bold, emotional, and packed with Haydn’s wit and wisdom.

Nicknamed “Fifths” for the stark and descending fifth motif in the opening movement, the work opens with a tense and conversational energy. The warm D Major in the slow movement provides a lyrical and playful breather, but the Menuetto is back in the minor key. Sometimes it is nicknamed the “Witches Minuet.” The Finale is a whirlwind based on a fiery, folk-inspired theme.

String Quartet in C Major, Op. 76, No. 3, Hob. III:77, “Emperor” (1797)

Nicknamed “Emperor” for its majestic second movement, Op. 76 No. 3 is one of Haydn’s finest works in the genre. It is a masterpiece of balance, juggling grand, lyrical and humorous elements in a clear and approachable style.

The “Emperor” nickname comes from the second movement, a set of variations on Haydn’s anthem “God Save Emperor Francis,” composed in 1797 as a patriotic response to Napoleon’s rise. The simple and noble melody undergoes four variations that transform the theme while keeping its dignity completely intact.

The opening movement is a burst of energy, sounding a bold and fanfare-like theme in the first violin. And just listen to the sudden pauses, harmonic twists, and playful interplay between all four instruments. The minuet has a rustic edge while the Finale is once more a high-octane affair. 

String Quartet in B-flat Major, Op. 76, No. 4, Hob. III:78, “Sunrise” (1797)

Another gem in the Op. 76 set is the string quartet in B-flat Major, No. 4. It earned the nickname “Sunrise” from the opening of the first movement. A soaring violin melody rises over a gentle accompaniment, resembling the sun peeking over the horizon.

It is a magical moment that sets a joyful tone. The mood quickly turns playful with a bouncy second theme and lively interplay between the four instruments. The slow movement, in turn, is a soulful gem, with a tender and hymn-like melody that is almost orchestral in texture. Intimate and heartfelt, it provides a moment of quiet reflection.

The minuet is again a rustic dance with Haydn adding quirky offbeat accents and dynamic shifts to keep it cheeky. What a charming mix of elegance and earthiness. And then there is the infectious rhythm of the rollicking Finale. Op. 76 No. 4 is a work of sheer beauty and charm, blending accessibility with sophistication.   

String Quartet in D Major, Op. 76, No. 5, Hob. III:79 (1797)

Op. 76, No. 5 in D Major is a radiant and lyrical work that is often considered among Haydn’s finest string quartets. Known for its serene and songlike qualities, this quartet does not have a catchy nickname, but its warmth and elegance make it a standout.

It is a gem for its lyrical and balanced structure, and certainly more introspective and serene. The sunny D Major feels like a warm embrace, and Haydn once again blends sophistication with charm and vibrant energy.

The heart of this quartet is the deeply expressive slow movement scored in the unusual key of F-sharp Major. Sounding a unique and glowing warmth, the melody is soulful and expansive, with a touch of melancholy. It’s like a private confession, both tender and profound. On account of this movement, some commentators have called it the “Graveyard Quartet.”   

String Quartet in G Major, Op. 77, No. 1, Hob. III:81 (1799)

Haydn playing a string quartet

Let us conclude this blog on the 10 most ingenious string quartets by Joseph Haydn by featuring his Op. 77, No. 1. It represents a vibrant and polished work that sounds the culmination of Haydn’s quartet writing.

This work was among his final contributions to the genre he helped to perfect. This quartet is the culmination of his craft, blending the emotional depth of his late style, the polish of his London visits, and his lifelong love of surprise and interplay.

The opening movement presents a flowing theme in the first violin contrasted by a dance-like second theme. The slow movement is a lyrical gem, and the minuet is full of musical mischief. The folk-inspired theme of the Finale is passed among the quartet like a musical relay, and the high-spirited finish simply makes us smile.

Joseph Haydn mastered the string quartet genre by transforming it into a dynamic and conversational form where all four instruments share equal roles. From the Op. 20 to the Op. 77, he blends structural brilliance with emotional depth and incredible humour. Haydn set the standard for the quartets of Mozart, Beethoven, and beyond.

Global Giggle Fest World Laughter Day Unleashes Hilarity

by Hermione Lai  

On the first Sunday in May, we celebrate World Laughter Day. It all started in a park in Mumbai in 1998 when Dr. Madan Kataria gathered hundreds of people in a laughter yoga movement.

It started with some fake-laughing until the giggles turned real. It was gloriously absurd as strangers cackled like hyenas, some wiping tears of laughter, all because someone pretended to laugh at a non-existent joke.

Laughing is highly infectious, and moments of organised silliness remind us that laughter can cut through the daily grind. And while classical music might seem like a stuffy museum of serious faces, composers have given us plenty of giggles over the centuries.

Mozart Joke 

Mozart’s Divertimento for Two Horns and Strings in F Major, K. 522, is like the 18th-century equivalent of a musical prank call. It is a deliberate trainwreck of bad composing, written in 1787 to poke fun at every hack and mediocre musician. To be sure, Mozart throws in every compositional cliché he can think of.

© wfmt.com

We hear repetitive phrases and off-key surprises, with the strings playing along like they forgot how to read music. The horns honk at the worst possible moments and in silly keys, and the transitions are simply awkward. Still, it’s catchy and brilliant. It’s the kind of piece that makes you laugh out loud. Are you laughing with Mozart, or is he secretly laughing at you?

Satie Joke

Erik Satie

The French musical maverick Erik Satie gave the world his “Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear” in 1903. This piano duet isn’t just a composition, it’s a wacky response to stuffy critics who whined that his music lacked form. The title alone is enough to make you laugh, and in fact, it’s actually seven pieces and not three.

The music itself is a delightful mess of quirky melodies, wonky rhythms, and moments when the piano is daydreaming about being in a circus. Satie throws in some playful titles and instructions, like “play with a very profound gentleness,” and “Prolongation of the Same.” The pieces meander through dreamy waltzes like a conversation between friends that keeps changing topics. We can’t help but laugh at such sheer silliness.

Alkan Joke

The reclusive piano wizard Charles-Valentin Alkan unleashed his “Funeral March on the Death of a Parrot” in 1858. This piece is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a mock-serious dirge for a dearly departed parrot, complete with all the pomp and circumstance you might expect for a fallen feathered friend.

It’s pure musical satire with a solemn and plodding rhythm that sounds absurdly grandiose. Alkan piles on the melodrama with heavy chords and exaggerated tempos. Can you hear the quirky little flourishes and dynamic shifts? It’s like Alkan is snickering behind the music and daring you to keep a straight face. This is musical trolling at its finest, and somewhere, the parrot’s ghost is squawking with glee.

Haydn Joke

Franz Joseph Haydn was basically the original musical prankster, and his String Quartet Op. 33, No. 2 is nicknamed “The Joke” for very good reasons. This piece shows Haydn at his most impish as he lures listeners into a false sense of security with its chipper melodies and polite classical vibes.

In the finale, Haydn pulls out all the stops. Just when you think the music is wrapping up with a tidy little bow, Haydn throws in a cheeky pause, and when everybody gets ready to clap, he restarts the music with a cheeky encore. I bet he had some stuffy aristocrats looking like fools. Pure, mischievous and utterly funny genius!

As we celebrate “World Laughter Day,” let’s raise a glass to the musical jesters who turned stuffy concert halls into serious giggle celebrations. Let’s tip our hats to the genius composers who weave hilarity into their harmonies, proving that music can spark laughter around the world.

Happy Birthday Johann Sebastian Bach

by Hermione Lai, Interlude

Johann Sebastian Bach—one name says it all! On 21 March, we celebrate one of the most revered and influential composers who ever lived. His compositions fill the air with harmony and joy, and his genius continues to inspire the world.

J.S. Bach

Bach’s music has left an indelible mark. From the intricate melodies in his fugues to the emotional depth of his cantatas, Bach’s work pushed the boundaries of what music could express.

Bach’s genius transcends time! His music is a living and breathing testament to the power of creativity and the beauty of sound; they will continue to inspire admiration and awe.

To celebrate his birthday, let’s dive into the wondrous world of his Orchestral Suites, where Baroque brilliance dances with every single note. These timeless masterpieces have enchanted listeners for centuries, and here are the 10 most popular gems that make these suites unforgettable.

Air on a G String (Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068 “Air” 

We just as well get started with one of Bach’s biggest hits ever. The “Air” from his Suite No. 3 is pure and unadulterated musical magic. Many times we see it referenced as “Air on a G String.” That title is not by Bach but comes from an arrangement fashioned in the 19th century.

The soothing and relatively simple melody is one of the composer’s most serene and timeless works. With its hauntingly delicate strings and serene atmosphere, it sounds like a gentle musical embrace.

In Bach’s original version, the piece is typically played on a single string on the violin, and in the lower register. That warm tone is central to the feeling of calm and elegance. The melody unfolds naturally and almost seems to breathe on its own. It transcends time with its graceful simplicity and profound beauty.

Suite No. 2 in B Minor, BWV 1067 “Badinerie” 

Bach had this unbelievable genius for turning a simple theme into an unforgettable masterpiece. If you need proof, just listen to the “Badinerie” from his 2nd Orchestral Suite. It is one of his most recognisable and frequently performed compositions.

The title “Badinerie” designates a piece of music light-hearted in character. In French it literally means “jesting,” and Bach presents a vibrant and playful piece characterised by a lively tempo and spirited rhythm.

The melody is primarily carried by the flute and seems almost mischievous at times. It dances through a series of short and rhythmic motifs, and Bach cleverly repeats and transforms these ideas to maintain both interest and drive. It is a masterpiece full of energy and charm and presents Bach’s skill in creating a highly dynamic but intricate musical conversation.

Suite No. 1 in C Major, BWV 1066 “Overture” 

One of the all-time Bach favourites, the “Overture” from his 1st Orchestral Suite blends grandeur and elegance in a way that only Bach can. It sets the ceremonial tone for the entire work, and for Bach the title “Overture” generally means “French Overture.”

Musically, that means a slow and majestic introduction followed by a lively and highly contrapuntal section. We can hear the ceremonial dignity in the stately and dotted opening rhythm, but Bach is also building anticipation for the lively section ahead.

Everything starts to dance in the second part, as Bach shifts to a more joyful character with different instrumental voices interacting in lively conversation. The strings lead and create an energetic exchange with the woodwinds and brass. The overture returns to the slow opening rhythm, giving us the impression of having witnessed something noble and celebratory.

Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068 “Gavotte I & II” 

Nobody dances like Johann Sebastian Bach. For some of his most popular examples we don’t need to look further than the Gavotte movements from his 3rd Orchestral Suite. This Gavotte pair reflects the grace of this courtly dance, which Bach infuses with great musical sophistication.

The first “Gavotte” immediately grabs the listener’s attention. The theme is simple, but it feels luxuriously rich due to Bach’s use of harmony and ornamentation. The upbeat rhythm and evenly spaced phrases provide a natural sense of forward motion.

The second “Gavotte” is a bit more reflective, with a slower and more lyrical quality. The musical texture is more transparent with woodwinds and strings creating moments of dialogue. This movement sounds more introspective, yet always retains a feeling of gracefulness. It’s pure Bach, as he blends rhythmic playfulness with harmonic depth and creates timeless delights.

Suite No. 4 in D Major, BWV 1069 “Bourrée I & II” (Cologne Chamber Orchestra; Helmut Müller-Brühl, cond.)

Monument of J.S. Bach in Eisenach, Germany

Bach was the undisputed master of turning simply dance forms into something both dynamic and sophisticated. If you don’t believe me, just take a listen to the pair of Bourrées from the 4th Orchestral Suite.

Bach’s treatment of these fast-paced and duple-time French dances is brimming with infectious energy captured within an intricate musical structure. The first Bourrée opens with a buoyant and immediately recognisable theme. What a sprightly and straightforward melody that gives this dance a playful and almost conversational feel.

The second Bourrée, while still in the same lively spirit, introduces a bit more contrast with a slightly different character. It opens in a similar fashion, with an energetic, clear melody, but there is a subtle shift in tone with the movement feeling slightly more intricate. Although rooted in the tradition of the Baroque dance, Bach is simply genius by elevating a simple form to a level of enduring artistic expression.

Suite No. 2 in B Minor, BWV 1067 “Rondeau” 

Let’s next feature another favourite lively and charming dance movement. The “Rondeau” from the 2nd Suite is in a basic rondo structure, where a recurring theme alternates with contrasting episodes. It’s all about creating a sense of continuity and variety.

The “Rondeau” theme is bright, rhythmically energetic, and immediately engaging. We can easily feel the strong dance-like pulse, and a feeling of momentum and lightness. And just listen to that delightful and lively conversation between the strings and the woodwinds.

The contrasting episodes are more lyrical but harmonically more complex. With the string section in the background, the woodwinds are given the opportunity to shine by adding colour and texture. The recurring theme sounds familiar and joyful, while the contrasting episodes offer variety and a touch of elegance.

Suite No. 2 in B Minor, BWV 1067 “Sarabande”

J.S. Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 2 – III. Sarabande

The lively and high-spirited dances in the Bach Orchestral Suites are contrasted by deeply expressive and poignant movements. Such is the case with the “Sarabande,” a slow and elegant dance originating from Spain, from the 2nd Suite.

From the very beginning, this dance radiates a sense of gravity and introspection. In this particular dance the focus falls on the second beat of each measure, creating a slight emphasis. This in turn creates a gentle lilt that drives the movement forward without rushing it.

Bach composes a noble and flowing melody, with long legato phrases providing a vocal-like quality. And astonishingly, every phrase unfolds naturally, inviting the listener into a space of reflection. Bach also adds a harmonically rich tapestry, shifting unhurriedly beneath the long melodic lines. It’s all about the subtle emotional nuances as Bach creates a deeply expressive movement of timeless splendor.

Suite No. 1 in C Major, BWV 1066 “Forlane” 

If you’re looking for a sense of joyous celebration, look no further than the “Forlane” from Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 1. This dance of Italian origin is typically in a moderate 6/8 metre, and Bach uses this basic structure to create a piece full of rhythmic momentum, melodic charm, and intricate phrasing.

While the overall form is straightforward, Bach deliciously propels the music forward by relying on the natural division of each measure into two groups of three beats. The melody is lively and playful, and it dances across the strings using crisp motifs that often occur in the form of a question and answer.

The harmony moves through major keys providing a sense of openness and warmth with occasional slight harmonic surprises. Unexpected modulations or shifts in tonality add a touch of colour and keep the music from becoming predictable. What a perfect and popular example of Bach’s ability to infuse dance music with both vibrancy and grace.

Suite No. 2 in B minor , BWV 1067 “Polonaise”

Johann Sebastian Bach playing the organ, c. 1881

For a beautiful dance of grace and dignity, let’s turn to the “Polonaise” from the 2nd Orchestral Suite. This dance is charming and expressive, with Bach showcasing a graceful melody, elegant ornamentation, rhythmic vitality, and subtle harmonic shifts.

Since it is written in the minor mode, this dance has a slightly sombre and reflective tone. But not to worry as Bach often brightens the mood with delicious modulations and harmonic shifts. The flute plays a key role, presenting the main theme while the string section provides a rich harmonic backdrop.

The rhythmic drive and moderate tempo allow for a stately procession, while the melodies and ornaments provide a sense of joyful elegance. The dance feels lively by capturing both the grandeur of the courtly setting and the joyful spirit of dance. Bach once again blends technical mastery with musical expressiveness.

Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068 “Gigue” 

Every good dance needs a rousing finale, and that’s exactly what we get in the “Gigue” from the 3rd Orchestral Suite. The gigue was a very common dance during the Baroque, and its fast pace and often skipping rhythm reflects the joyful spirit of this particular dance form.

The memorable melody in this dance unfolds in long, flowing phrases that are energetic and graceful. Bach adds a number of ornaments to the lively rhythm to add a layer of expressivity and elegance.

What a fantastic, high-energy movement full of rhythmic complexity and joyful exuberance. And just listen to the marvellous interplay between the instruments to create that sense of dialogue and energy. The music is never standing still, and the same can truly be said of Johann Sebastian’s incredible musical mind.

The Orchestral Suites are a radiant celebration of Bach’s elegance and musical ingenuity. Each suite presents a tapestry of contrasting emotions, weaving together joyous dances, delicate melodies, and intricate counterpoint. Together, they stand as some of the most cherished works in Bach’s orchestral repertoire, leaving us with an uplifting sense of musical fulfillment and joy.

From John Field to Alexander Scriabin: The Russian Nocturne

by Hermione Lai, Interlude

In our last blog we listened to some of the most beautiful Nocturnes by John Field. He is considered the father of the Nocturne, and his smaller-scale character pieces emerged from a growing salon culture throughout Europe. Field made fantastic use of the technical improvements of the piano, now allowing for a more sustained legato, greater variety of touch, subtler range of dynamics and a highly efficient sustaining pedal.

Anton Wachsmann: John Field, ca 1820 (Gallica: btv1b84179686)

On occasion, one can still hear performances of the Field Nocturnes in the concert halls, but they seem to have been relegated to preparatory exercises for the magnificent Nocturnes of Frédéric Chopin. He took on the legacy of Field’s invention and took this new salon genre to a deeper level of sophistication.

In light of Chopin’s achievements, it is easy to forget that Field’s influence was also felt in Russia. Field made Russia his home between 1802 and 1829, and he was deeply admired as a performer. However, he also set up a highly successful private piano studio, which contributed to the establishment of the Russian piano school and to Russian music itself. Will you join me on a journey through the wonderful world of the Russian Nocturne?

The Glinka Connection

Michael Glinka: Nocturne in E-Flat Major 

When I started looking for John Field’s Russian connections, I came across the marvellous website of pianist and scholar Daniel Pereira. He embarked on an ongoing 15-year research project that looks at the history of universal pianism and its interpreters and teachers. It’s called “Piano Traditions Through their Genealogy Trees” and features thousands of piano connections throughout time, including pianists, teachers and the establishment of national and regional schools of playing.

Mikhail Glinka

Thanks to Daniel Pereira, we can now trace the students of John Field and their role in the Russian Nocturne tradition. One of the biggest names to emerge is Mikhail Glinka (1804-1857), who is generally regarded as the father of Russian music. Apparently, Glinka had a number of piano lessons from Field, and we know that his operas “A Life for the Tsar” and “Lyudmila” are cornerstones of a Russian tradition.

Glinka was surprisingly well travelled, and he personally knew Donizetti, Bellini, Mendelssohn, Berlioz, Auber, and Victor Hugo. But even more interesting for this blog, he also composed a number of piano pieces, including several Nocturnes. His “Nocturne in E-flat Major” dates from 1828 but was published only fifty years later. Some commentators call it “the first Russian Nocturne,” and the connection to Field is obvious. The beautifully flowing and melancholy Nocturne in F minor dates from 1839 and was written for Glinka’s sister while she was away, hence the title “The Separation.”

The Rubinstein Connection

Alexander Villoing

Alexander Villoing (1804-1878) was born of a French émigré family and he studied piano with John Field in Moscow. By 1830, in the tradition of his teacher, he had established his own piano studio and soon enjoyed a reputation as one of the best pedagogues in Russia. Most significantly, in 1837 he was tasked with teaching the eight-year-old Anton Rubinstein. In fact, he is still considered Rubinstein’s only teacher and one of his best friends.

Villoing accompanied his young charge on a European concert tour between 1840 and 1843. He once again toured with Anton, his brother Nikolai and their mother Kalerija Christoforovna between 1844 and 1846. And we know that he became a professor at the St Petersburg Conservatory in 1862, an institution founded by Anton Rubinstein. 

Villoing not only taught at the St Petersburg Conservatory, he also published his “Piano School”, the École pratique du piano in 1863. That particular piano primer was also called “Exercises for the Rubinstein Brother.” It was adopted as the official piano method at the Conservatory, republished several times, and even translated into German and French.

Anton Rubinstein, 1842

As a student of Field, Villoing was almost certainly introduced to the Nocturnes, a tradition he passed on to Anton Rubinstein. Rubinstein started to compose at the age of 12 and established world fame as a pianist. However, he was always keen to establish himself as a composer, and “he was the first Russian composer whose works for solo piano embodied the same serious artistic ideas as his symphonies and chamber music.”

In all, Anton Rubinstein composed eleven Nocturnes, two of them for piano four hands. Thematically charming and pianistically perfect, the Rubinstein Nocturnes are written with great skill and refinement. A critic suggests, “rather than plumbing the deepest emotions, they are far above the average Romantic salon music. 

The Tchaikovsky Connection

Anton Gerke

Among Field’s students, we also find the pianist, composer and teacher Anton Gerke (1812-1870). He was the son of a Polish violinist, and he personally knew Liszt, Thalberg, and Clara Schumann. I don’t know much about his apprenticeship with John Field, but by 1831 he was appointed court pianist in St Petersburg. Gerke was also involved with setting up the Russian Music Society.

Anton Gerke taught at the St Petersburg Conservatory between 1862 and 1870, and among his students were Nikolay Zaremba, Nadeszhda Rimskaya-Korsakova, Modest Mussorgsky, and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Of course, when we look at the Tchaikovsky connections, we also find Anton Rubinstein.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Two Pieces Op. 10, No. 1 “Nocturne in F Major” 

Tchaikovsky and Anton Rubinstein did not get along at all. Tchaikovsky was a student in Rubinstein’s instrumentation classes in the conservatory’s first intake in 1862. Rubinstein was unquestionably the greatest pianist besides Franz Liszt, and he knew it. Rubinstein considered himself a successor of Schubert and Chopin, and he very much disliked Tchaikovsky’s music.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

As Tchaikovsky later wrote, “In my younger days, I very impatiently blazed my way—tried to acquire a name and fame as a composer—and hoped that Rubinstein would help me in my quest for laurels. But I must confess with grief that Anton Rubinstein did nothing, absolutely nothing, to further my desires and projects.”

Tchaikovsky composed his two Nocturnes in the 1870s, and “they are generally regarded as real jewels of Russian music.” He almost certainly knew the Nocturnes by Field, Rubinstein, and Chopin, but he also seems to take his bearing from Glinka. A pianist writes, “Tchaikovsky’s nocturnes abound with the heartfelt poetry of everyday life, and in following Field, places floating melodies above repeated pulsating chords.” Tchaikovsky also loved to place his melodies in the cello register of the piano, “creating an almost orchestral texture.” 

The Glazunov Connection

Alexander Dubuque

We must count the pianist and teacher Alexander Dubuque (1812-1898) among the most influential students of John Field. He was probably of French descent, and as one of the most influential teachers in Russia, Dubuque carried the piano tradition of John Field into the second half of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Among his most distinguished students were Balakirev and Nikolay Zverev, the teacher of Rachmaninoff, Scriabin, and Ziloti. Dubuque was known for an intellectually controlled, poised and precise style that became associated with the Field-Dubuque Moscow tradition. He even published a book on the technique of piano playing and one on his “Reminiscences of Field.”

Mily Balakirev

Both Tchaikovsky and Balakirev dedicated piano pieces to Dubuque, and it was Mily Balakirev, a member of the famed “The Five,” who discovered Alexander Glazunov. Glazunov had started taking piano lessons at the age of nine and fashioned his first compositions at the age of 11. Balakirev took his early compositions to Rimsky-Korsakov, and among his early works, we find two Nocturnes. These youthful works show clear musical attention to texture, clarity of melodic line and harmonic sumptuousness, all attributes going back to John Field.

Alexander Glazunov

The Rachmaninoff Connection

Nikolai Zverev

The Field student Alexander Dubuque also taught Nikolay Zverev, born into an aristocratic family, in 1833. Zverev studied mathematics and physics at Moscow State University, but concurrently, he also took lessons from Dubuque. Zverev inherited a large family fortune and moved to St Petersburg to become a civil servant. Unhappy with his career and urged on by Dubuque, he returned to Moscow to establish his private piano studio. When Nikolai Rubinstein invited him to teach at the Moscow Conservatory, he happily accepted.

Rachmaninoff was only 12 when he auditioned to become Zverev’s student. He was quickly accepted and entered the pianist’s home to receive private piano lessons. Rachmaninoff remembered, “I entered Zverev’s home with a heavy heart and foreboding, having heard tell of his severity and heavy hand, which he had no qualms of resorting to. Indeed, we were able to witness proof of this latter: Zverev had a temper and could launch himself at a person, fists flailing, or hurl some object at the offender. I myself had been the object of his fury on three or four occasions.”

Rachmaninoff continued, “but all other talk of his exacting and severe manner were false. This was a man of rare intellect, generosity and kindness. He commanded a great deal of respect among the best people of his time. Indeed, discipline entered my life.” In May 1886, Zverev took his students to Crimea, where Rachmaninoff continued his studies in hopes of being accepted into Anton Arensky’s class at the Moscow Conservatory.

Sergei Rachmaninoff

It was during this time that Rachmaninoff created his first composition, a now lost Etude in F-sharp Major. He also composed a group of pieces titled “Three Nocturnes,” works regarded as his first serious attempt at writing for the piano. The pieces are not entirely nocturnal in their approach, and they are certainly closer to Field than Chopin. The nocturnes were published only in 1949 without opus number, and while they lack maturity, they are full of suggestions of what was still to come.

First performed in 1892, Rachmaninoff’s C-sharp minor Prelude became his first real hit. In addition, Tchaikovsky tirelessly promoted Rachmaninoff’s talents, and the young composer was exceptionally successful in getting his early compositions into print. Rachmaninoff composed his “Morceaux de salon,” Op. 10, after graduation from the Moscow Conservatory in 1892. A “Nocturne in A minor” opens this collection of piano pieces, and like Field and Chopin, he concentrated on a framework of singing melodies supported by rich harmonies and elaborated by embellishments.

The Scriabin Connection

Georgy Konyus

With Alexander Scriabin we once again find the connection to John Field in the home of Nikolai Zverev. Scriabin had been able to play the piano with both hands by the time he was five, and he was able to reproduce the tunes he heard from passing organ grinders. He received his first formal music lessons from Georgy Konyus, who was not impressed. He writes, “He knew the scales and the tonalities, and with the weak sound of his little fingers which barely carried, he played to me, what exactly, I don’t remember, but it was accurate and satisfactory… he learned pieces quickly, but his performance, it should be remembered, as a result of the shortcomings of his physique, was always ethereal and monotonous.”

Because Scriabin could count on significant family connections, he was able to study with Taneyev, who prepared him for entry to the Moscow Conservatory. And in turn, Taneyev introduced Scriabin to Zverev. Zverev insisted that his students should live in his own house, and Scriabin “learnt not only French and German but also the manners of high society; he was shown great literature and how to drink vodka.”

Scriabin studied among a group of boys of similar age, and that included Rachmaninoff and Goldenweiser. During his study with Zverev, Scriabin performed Schumann’s “Papillons” in the Great Hall of the Charitable Society. That performance showed some obvious talent “despite some inaccuracy.” It was suggested that Scriabin became Zverev’s favourite student, but things changed when his young charge tried his hands at composition. When he dedicated a Nocturne in F-sharp minor to his teacher, later to be published as Op. 5, No. 1, Zverev put his foot down and told him to stop composing.

Alexander Scriabin

From his very beginnings, Scriabin loved the music of Chopin. It’s hardly surprising that we should find a couple of nocturnes in his oeuvre. Stephen Coombs writes, “The Two Nocturnes Op 5, written in 1890, have only the faintest suggestion of reflective ‘night music’ and could as easily have been titled ‘impromptus’ or ‘poems.’ Both pieces display an increased sensuousness and rhythmic freedom together with a more confident and daring use of harmony.”

Scriabin wrote only one more Nocturne, the second of his Two Pieces for Left Hand, Op. 9. Competing against the likes of Rachmaninoff, Hofmann and Lhévinne, Scriabin temporarily lost the full use of his right hand. Eager to prove his ability as a pianist, he turned the Nocturne into a particularly devilish technical exercise. As a pianist wrote, “with Scriabin, the nocturne breaks with the bel canto singing to which it was through John Field, historically linked.” Please join us next time when we take a closer look at the 10 most beautiful Nocturnes by Frédéric Chopin.