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Showing posts with label Maureen Buja. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maureen Buja. Show all posts

Friday, December 19, 2025

Dance, Dance, Dance: The Baroque Dance Suite

by ,Maureen Buja

In the new series on dance music, Dance, Dance, Dance, we’ll be looking at dance and how it comes into classical music. You’re going to be surprised at some of the places where it has made an appearance.

We’ll start with not the oldest dances, but with some of the most familiar. In the Baroque era, the dance suite was one of the most popular forms of instrumental music. Pairing of dances was common in the medieval period, but it wasn’t until the 17th century that the keyboard virtuoso Johann Jakob Froberger codified the movements of the suite to include four specific dances: the Allemande, the Courante, the Sarabande, and the Gigue.

Each dance came from a different country and had a different tempo and time signature so that along with the variety of country styles, each dance had its own character.

As its name indicates, the Allemande comes from Germany. It started as a moderate duple-meter dance but came to be one of the most stylized of the Baroque dances. In its earliest versions it was simply called ‘Teutschertanz’ or ‘Dantz’ in Germany and ‘bal todescho’, ‘bal francese’ and ‘tedesco’ in Italy.

Guillaume: Allemande, 1770

GuillaumeAllemande, 1770

It is often paired with a following Courante (from France). When the Allemande was a dance, it was performed by dancers in a line of couples who took hands and then walked the length of the room, walking 3 steps and then balancing on one foot. Musically, the allemande could be quite slow, such as in this piece by Johann Jakob Froberger. Since it was originally intended as a walking piece, the tempo is understandable.

As the century went on, however, the Allemande became faster and eventually functioned like prelude, exploring changing harmonies and moving through dissonances.

In England, the Allemande, or, as it was known there, the Almain or Almand, also became a part of the repertoire. Although this example is short, it could have been repeated multiple times.

By the 18th century, the allemande could get to be quite lively. It has gotten disassociated with its dance and exists solely as a musical form.

In the Baroque suite, the Allemande was followed by the contrasting Courante (from France). The name, derived from the French word for ‘running,’ is a fast dance, performed with running and jumping steps. Following the Allemande in duple meter, the Courente was in triple meter.

In his 17th-century collection Terpsichore, German composer Michael Praetorius collected 312 pieces of dance music, for 3-5 unspecified players. This collection of French dances brought together music of the latest fashion, ‘as played and danced in France’ and that was ‘used at princely banquets or particular entertainments for recreation and enjoyment’. The three courantes here show the different ways one style could be changed.

J.S. Bach used Allemande / Courante pairs in his Partitas and we can hear again that the tempos are contrasting, but really too fast for dancing.

The next dance in the Baroque Suite came from Spain, the Sarabande. It started as a sung dance in Spain and Latin America in the 16th century and by the 17th century, was part of the Spanish guitar repertoire. The Spanish line of development means that it also had Arab influences. As a dance, it was usually created by a double line of couples who played castanets. Once the sarabande got to France, however, what had begun as a fiery couples’ dance changed character completely. It slowed in time, and gradually became a work that might be described as the intellectual core of the Baroque suite.

Fritz Bergen: The Sarabande, 1899

Fritz Bergen: The Sarabande, 1899


And in a more stately manner:

Feuillet and Pécourt: Recüeil de dances: Women’s steps for the beginning of the sarabande, 1704

Feuillet and Pécourt: Recüeil de dances: Women’s steps for the beginning of the Sarabande, 1704


The final element of the Baroque dance suite was the English Gigue (or jig). This was a fast dance in 6/8 time that was paired with the slower sarabande. Jigs have been known since the 15th century in England, but as it reached the continent in the 17th, is divided into distinct French and Italian versions. The French gigue was moderately fast with irregular phrases.

In Feuillet’s and Pécourt’s early 18th century collection, they present the choreography as used in various ballets, mostly by Lully. Here is the middle section of a slow gigue. The two dances start in the center and then move in opposite directions, starting with a large irregularly shaped circling around each other.

Feuillet and Pécourt: Recüeil de dances: Men’s and Women’s steps for the Gigue Lente, 1704

Feuillet and Pécourt: Recüeil de dances: Men’s and Women’s steps for the Gigue Lente, 1704    

The Italian giga, although it sounded faster than the French gigue, actually had a slower harmonic rhythm. It also didn’t have the irregular phrases of the French model.

When dances were the social entertainment, there was an enormous business in traveling dancing masters teaching the latest steps, and books published to show how to perform them. This early 18th-century book shows your foot positions, where you turn your leg, where you beat your foot, and bend your knee while your leg is in the air.

Dufort: Trattato el ballo nobile, 1728

Dufort: Trattato el ballo nobile, 1728

In this more elaborate image from Raoul-Auger Feuillet and Guillaume Louis Pécourt’s 1704 book Recüeil de dances, they give examples of foot movements based on the musical rhythm.

Feuillet and Pécourt: Recüeil de dances, 1704

Feuillet and Pécourt: Recüeil de dances, 1704

By the 18th century, the dancing manuals were decrying the introduction of ballet steps onto the dance floor. One 1818 manual asks that dancers be more aware of what they are doing: ‘The chaste minuet is banished; and, in place of dignity and grace, we behold strange wheelings upon one leg, stretching out the other till our eye meets the garter; and a variety of endless contortions, fitter for the zenana of an eastern satrap, or the gardens of Mahomet, than the ball-room of an Englishwoman of quality and virtue.’ In 1875, an American dance manual starts out with the plain declaration that ‘The dance of society, as at present practiced, is essentially different from that of the theatre, and it is proper that it should be so. The former, consisting of movements at once easy, natural, modest and graceful, affords an exercise sufficiently agreeable to render it conducive to health and pleasure. The latter…requires in its classic poses, poetical movement, and almost supernatural strength and agility, too much study and strain…to admit of its performance off the stage…’

As these dance works entered the instrumental repertoire and took to the concert stage versus the dance floor, they became disassociated from their dances – their tempos changed so as to be undanceable and it is the contrast between movements that become the focus: duple or triple meter? Fast or slow tempo? In the next parts we will look at other dance movements, some from the Baroque and others more familiar from the Classical and Romantic repertoire.

Friday, December 12, 2025

Two Pianos as a Home Orchestra

 by Maureen Buja

Gustav Holst

Gustav Holst

By the 1920s, much of this home music-making had been supplanted by the home radio. Recordings also became available, and with a record player, you could have your own orchestra in your drawing room.

In the early 20th century, however, the piano still held sway, and in this new recording by the piano duo of Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman, one major work by Gustav Holst and two by Edward Elgar are presented. The transcriptions of Holst’s The PlanetsElgar’s Introduction and Allegroand the Salut d’Amour give us something back of music in the home.

Gustav Holst’s suite for large orchestra, The Planets, brought Holst’s name into the spotlight. Although admired by his musical friends, few others knew of this Cheltenham-born composer.

The original layout of The Planets was for two pianos, and it was only orchestrated later. Holst suffered from neuritis, an inflammation of the nervous system, and it was easier for him to compose for two pianos than work through a large symphonic score.

With the success of the orchestral version, particularly in a time when astrology and the study of the stars were in fashion, Holst’s two-piano version was set aside and only published some 30 years after the orchestral premiere.

In the two-piano version, the big works, such as Mars, seem too light, but the lighter movements, such as Venus, The Bringer of Peace or Neptune, The Mystic, come across beautifully. One of the particularly good movements in the two-piano version is the flight of Mercury, The Winged Messenger.

Gustav Holst: The Planets – III. Mercury, The Winged Messenger (Ben Schoeman, Tessa Uys pianos)

Edward Elgar

Edward Elgar

The other English composer who rose from relative obscurity to international fame was Edward Elgar. As in the case of Holst, the piano transcriptions of Elgar’s Introduction and Allegro, and the Salut d’Amour have largely been ignored with the greater fame of their orchestral versions. Whereas Holst made his transcriptions as part of his compositional process, Elgar’s works were done by other hands. Introduction and Allegro was transcribed by Otto Singer II, who made his name with his piano transcriptions of Bruckner’s symphonies. Introduction and Allegro (1905) was written for the string section of the London Symphony Orchestra, with Elgar conducting the premiere.

The second Elgar work, Salut d’Amour, originally entitled Liebesgruß (Love’s Greeting) but retitled in French by Elgar’s German publishers, was a wedding present to his fiancée, Caroline Alice Roberts. Their marriage in 1889 was done with her family’s disapproval, but proved to be a love-match in all the good ways. This melody is probably the most famous of Elgar’s light works, and in his publisher’s catalogue were some 25 different arrangements for all manner of ensembles.

Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman, piano duo

Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman, piano duo

The two-piano format made important orchestral works accessible for home consumption. In the case of these three works, which are far better known in their orchestral versions, we can hear both the advantages of the genre and some of its limitations.

Holst: The Planets & Elgar: Introduction and Allegro, Salut d’Amour


Holst: The Planets / Elgar: Introduction and Allegro, Salut d’Amour

Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman, piano duo
SOMM Recordings: SOMMCD 0709

Official Website

How Much Does He/She Love: Too Much!

In the classic Christmas counting carol, The 12 Days of Christmas, on the 12 days following Christmas, the singer’s ‘true love’ sends him a present each day, plus the present from the day(s) before.

The Twelve Days of Christmas song poster

The Twelve Days of Christmas song poster © Wikipedia

The 12 Days of Christmas are the 12 days between the birth of Jesus and the appearance of the Magi, with their kingly-level gifts of Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. The present-giving begins on Christmas and continues through to 6 January, traditionally Three Kings’ Day or the Epiphany.

The song first appears in the late 18th century in a book called Mirth With-Out Mischief and is part of a long tradition of memory games and cumulative songs. If you don’t remember the order correctly, you have to pay a forfeit – a kiss or a small present – for your error.

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me
a partridge in a pear tree.
Day 2: two turtle doves
Day 3: three French hens
Day 4: four calling birds
Day 5: five gold rings
Day 6: six geese a-laying
Day 7: seven swans a-swimming
Day 8: eight maids a-milking
Day 9: nine ladies dancing
Day 10: 10 lords a-leaping
Day 11: 11 pipers piping
Day 12: 12 drummers drumming

The list was set to many different melodies in its early days, but the melody we are most familiar with dates from the early 20th century, when the English baritone singer and composer Frederic Austin set the words, adding his own touch – the long cadence on 5 gold rings. Austin wrote that this was the setting that was familiar to his family, and he hadn’t heard that melody elsewhere. The song was published in 1909 and lives on today.

Frederic Austin, 1907

Frederic Austin, 1907

Days 1 through 7 are all about birds: a partridge, turtle doves, French hens, and calling birds or colly birds (blackbirds) in some versions. The five gold rings could also refer to ring-necked pheasants, followed by geese and swans.

On day 8, the staff shows up: milkmaids, dancing ladies, leaping lords, pipers, and drummers, although no one appears to be dealing with all the birds!

Whew!

A bank in the US has tracked the prices of all of these presents for the past 40 years, and they make interesting and funny reading. For 2023, your daily cost for being the True Love comes out to:

1 Partridge in a Pear TreeThe price of partridges has remained stable, but the pear tree is now up nearly 14% in price$319.18
2 Turtle Doves25% leap in price, the greatest of all the gifts$750.00
3 French hensLabour and energy were the price drivers here, but they remain the most affordable of the birds$330.00
4 Calling birdsNo change in price for many years!$599.96
5 Gold RingsPrice on gold has remained unchanged for the past 5 years$1,245.00
6 Geese a LayingUp by 8.3%$780.00
7 Swans a SwimmingNo price change, but one of the most expensive birds in any case$13,125.00
8 Maids a milkingPayment at the US Federal Minimum Wage makes them most affordable$58.00
9 Ladies DancingAfter a 10% raise in 2022, no change for 2023$8,308.12
10 Lords a LeapingEXPENSIVE! Even more than the swans and up 4% from last year$14,539.20
11 Pipers PipingSlight 6.2% rise in piper cost because of the tight labour market$3,207.38
12 Drummers DrummingSame rise as the pipers: 6.2%$3,468.02

Illustration of "five gold rings", from the first known publication of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" (1780)

Illustration of “five gold rings”, from the first known publication of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” (1780) © Wikipedia

What does that all add up to? Well, if you’re giving just one each of everything this year, that’s only $46,729.86 in presents, a rise of only 2.7% over last year’s figure.

If you’re doing the full measure, which would be 12 partridges, 22 turtle doves, 30 French hens, etc., for a total of 364 presents, you’re at over $1.5 million for 12 days of fun. $1,535,405.64, to be exact.

It’s expensive to be whimsical!

The presents total 364, presumably so you have a breathing day before next Christmas when it starts all over again. Starts again, that is, if your love is still speaking to you after having to deal with all those presents from last year!

Merry Christmas!

Friday, November 14, 2025

The Key Conductor: Pierre Monteux

by 

French conductor Pierre Monteux (1875–1964) always seemed to be the right man at the right time. As a student of violin and viola at the Paris Conservatoire, his fellow students included George Enescu, Fritz Kreisler, and Alfred Cortot. Upon graduation, one of his first jobs was violist for the orchestra of the Folies Bergère (1889–1892), when the Folies had Toulouse-Lautrec doing their posters. He played in or conducted works by Camille Saint-SaënsSaint, including being a last-minute conductor for a performance of Saint-Saëns’s cantata La Lyre et la Harpe (the composer at the organ), earning Saint-Saëns’s undying gratitude.

Irwin D. Hoffmann: Pierre Monteux, 1959 (Boston Public Library)

Irwin D. Hoffmann: Pierre Monteux, 1959 (Boston Public Library)

In 1894, he was named both principal violist and assistant conductor of the Colonne Orchestra in Paris. The orchestra’s founder, Édouard Colonne, had known Berlioz and could work with Monteux on what the composer really wanted in a performance of his works. His next position was as chief conductor for the seasonal Dieppe Casino orchestra (while still maintaining his Colonne positions).

In 1910, the Colonne Orchestra played for the Ballets Russes season, and Monteux met Stravinsky for the first time. He played viola for the world premiere of The Firebird in 1910, and the next year led the rehearsals for the premiere of Petrushka. He ended up conducting the premiere as well, at the insistence of the composer.

Along with impressing Saint-Saëns and Stravinsky, he also caught the eye of Claude Debussy, particularly because of his ability to rehearse and present new music. When the Colonne Orchestra was giving the world premiere of Debussy’s Images pour orchestra, it was Monteux who led the orchestral rehearsals, and Debussy conducted the premiere (26 January 1913).


After the January premiere of Images, it was onto Debussy’s ballet Jeux and then, on 29 May 1913, the infamous premiere of The Rite of Spring and riot.

With the start of WWI, Monteux was conscripted into the French Army, but Diaghilev got him released to take the Ballets Russes on tour to North America. After the war, the Boston Symphony Orchestra approached Monteux to be their new chief conductor. He only lasted 5 years there, but changed the orchestra for the better, and handed it over to Serge Koussevitzky, who would be its music director for the next 25 years.

Pierre Monteux, 1924 (Pierre Monteux Memorial Foundation Archive)

Pierre Monteux, 1924 (Pierre Monteux Memorial Foundation Archive)

Monteux, in the meantime, went to Amsterdam, where he became the first conductor at the Concertgebouw, serving under Willem Mengelberg, the chief conductor. The other major work on this new recording is Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms, written in 1931 for the 50th anniversary of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. The influence of Bach on Stravinsky is palpable in the Symphony, particularly Bach’s St Matthew Passionwhich had been widely played all over Europe during the work’s bicentenary in 1927.

Alfred Bendiner: Pierre Monteux (1947) (Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Bendiner)

Alfred Bendiner: Pierre Monteux (1947) (Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Bendiner)

Taking up his conducting career at the cusp of the 20th century, Monteux took part in some of the most exciting and controversial happenings in music, from premieres of works by Saint-Saëns to the Parisian riots over Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. He brought the Boston Symphony back to life and then went on to lead one of Europe’s great orchestras.

This 150th anniversary tribute to Pierre Monteux was recorded in 1961 as a live broadcast on the BBC Home Service. The BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, as led by Monteux, give us the best of his repertoire in performances of works that couldn’t be further apart in style: Debussy’s orchestral Images, and Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms.

Pierre Monteux: 150th Anniversary Tribute: Live Performances album cover

Pierre Monteux: 150th Anniversary Tribute: Live Performances

BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus
SOMM Recordings ARIADNE 5042

Official Website

Friday, October 3, 2025

A Question of Virtuosity: Michel Dalberto’s Virtus

 by 


Michel Dalberto

Michel Dalberto

In his new album, Dalberto shows us the differing possibilities of virtuosity through the 19th century. He opens with what has become the basic definition of virtuoso: Franz Liszt’s concert paraphrase of a waltz from Gounod’s Faust (S. 407). Starting with the basic theme, Liszt then adds the emphasis and techniques that only he is capable of to create a virtuoso performance.

As a complete change of pace, this is followed by Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 15 in C major, K. 545, which carries the name of the Simple Sonata or Sonata facile. This demonstrates virtuosity in another way: Mozart’s ability to create transparent and seemingly simple work, but which, by its very simplicity, speaks of his virtuosity as a composer.

The next work, Brahms’ Variations on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 35 returns us to the idea of the virtuoso performer, but now matched with a virtuoso composer. Written by Brahms for the virtuoso pianist Carl Tausig, it’s a triple hit, since the original theme was by the violin virtuoso Niccolò Paganini. Described variously as ‘fiendish’ and ‘one of the most difficult works in the literature’, and ‘diabolical’. Even Clara Schumann nicknamed them the ‘Witch’s Variations’.

Dalberto plays both books 1 and 2, but joins them in a unique manner. Each book, as written, starts with a statement of Paganini’s theme and then goes into a complete set of 14 variations. Dalberto chooses to play Book 1 through Variation 12, then goes directly to Book 2, Variation 1, skipping the restatement of the theme. This is not unusual, and when the Books are being played back-to-back as they are here, the omission of the restatement of the theme is not unique.

At the end of Book 2, he plays Variation 13, then Variation 13 of Book 1, and closes with Variation 14 from Book 1. He omits Book 2, Variation 14, entirely. He doesn’t explain this decision, but perhaps considers the final Variation of Book 1 a more definitive ending.

Franz Liszt’s Réminiscences de Norma (after Bellini’s opera), S.394, follows, bringing us yet another example of virtuosos creating their own versions of music that everyone knew.

Franz Liszt: Réminiscences de Norma (after Bellini’s opera), S.394

The last virtuoso piece was somewhat of a surprise. We’re familiar with all of Liszt’s versions of Schubert songs, but this is one by Sergei Rachmaninoff. His piano transcription of Wohin? from Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin is a curious amalgam of Schubert’s original song with extra colouration. Rachmaninoff did some 14 transcriptions, ranging from Fritz Kreisler’s Liebesleid and Liebesfreud to Bach’s Violin Partita in E major, but this Schubert work is unique.

The playing is top-notch, if some of the decisions, particularly about the Brahms, are inexplicable. Virtuoso music in the hands of a virtuoso performer is always impressive.

VIRTUS
Michel Dalberto album cover


Michel Dalberto: Virtus

La dolce volta LDV148
Release date: 14 March 2025

Official Website

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Friday, September 19, 2025

Reading Too Much Into the Story: Lim’s The Seasons

Émile Reutling:  Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky, ca. 1888

Émile Reutling: Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky, ca. 1888

The Seasons was commissioned by Nikolay Bernard, the editor of the St Petersburg music magazine Nuvellist. Each month in 1876 (starting in November 1895), Tchaikovsky had to contribute ‘a season’, and a source of ready and steady music, as an assignment like this was easy. It was so easy, in fact, that Tchaikovsky reminded his staff to tell him when the next one was due, and he would sit down and write something quickly.

Yunchan Lim

Yunchan Lim

The work has a simplicity and charm that speaks to both the lightness of the assignment and to Tchaikovsky’s ability to write for an amateur audience. There are a few technical challenges for his readers to achieve, and the work forms a satisfactory whole. Tchaikovsky referred to them as ‘musical pancakes’, i.e., something to be tossed off and easily consumed.

In his notes for the recording, Lim reads an element of melancholy that was never in the original conception of the work. He sees the first movement (January: By the Fireside) as relatively despairing: the fire is dying out, the old man’s cigarette smoke curls in the remaining light. He’s overwhelmed with memories and sobs about his lost past.

When you contrast this reading with the notes added by the journal editor to each piece, written as a little poetic epigraph, we’ll see that this is far from the original concept for the works:

JanuaryAt the Fireside

A little corner of peaceful bliss, the night dressed in twilight; the little fire is dying in the fireplace, and the candle has burned out (quoting Pushkin).

No looks back in regrets, but rather a quiet close of day, sitting in peace as everything around prepares for sleep.


For Lim, the happy movements are happy memories, and the mournful movements are times of anticipated death, rejection, and dejection. Everyone seems to be weeping, or sobbing, or just standing there with tears running down their faces. It’s a rather incomprehensible take on Russian melancholia.

When you consider the commercial nature of the commission, it’s not really possible that Tchaikovsky, in writing for a widespread amateur audience, would deliberately write something that was so fatalistic.

Lim ties the story to yet another of Tchaikovsky’s habits of falling in love with the wrong woman at the wrong time. I think, however, that this highly personal reading is looking at the wrong music. The Seasons does exactly what the label says: it celebrates the life around Tchaikovsky: he goes to the fairs, he sees the flowers come up in the spring, hears the songs of the first, and provides his readers with lovely miniatures of the work of St Petersburg.

This work more often appears in orchestral versions or in single movement, but there have been a number of recordings of the piano version.

Lim’s playing is exquisite, but the overlaying of melancholy goes beyond the composer’s intention to a reading that isn’t really justified by the content.

Tchaikovsky: The Seasons Yunchan Lim album cover


Tchaikovsky: The Seasons
Yunchan Lim, piano
Decca 0028948710218
Release date: 22 August 2025

Official Website