This new Netflix heist movie has got Wagner trending, thanks to its safe-cracking plot

By Sophia Alexandra Hall, ClassicFM

@sophiassocials

 

Army of Thieves is the prequel to the Netflix zombie movie, Army of the Dead, and the film takes a surprising amount of inspiration from Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle. 

German composer Richard Wagner is trending, and it might not be for the reason you think.

Netflix’s latest heist movie, Army of Thieves, tells the story of a German safe-cracker, Dieter, who is hired by an internationally renowned heist team to break into a series of safes inspired by Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen (Ring Cycle).

The film is a prequel to the zombie movie released on the streaming platform earlier this year, Army of the Dead, which also stars German actor Matthias Schweighöfer as Dieter, and is directed by Zach Snyder.

Every good heist movie has *that* scene, where the characters tensely wait as the skilled member of their team attempts to open a vault full of goods. One false move, and it could mean the end of their entire mission, and possibly prison time or death for the whole team.

Well if you enjoy those kind of scenes, get ready for at least three in this film alone, and that’s not including the underground safe-cracking ring which Dieter finds himself in for a series of games in front of a betting audience.

Bank-teller Sebastian Schlencht-Wöhnert (aka. Dieter), is an expert in all things safe-cracking. At the beginning of the film, we see him sharing his knowledge to his 0 subscriber YouTube channel, where he makes videos about his favourite safe-maker, Hans Wagner.

In the film, Hans Wagner is introduced as a German master-locksmith, who is famed with having created four almost impenetrable safes based on Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle.

Dieter is therefore recruited by an international heist gang to assist in their plan to break into three of these four safes, after one of the members sees his YouTube video on the safes. By joining the team, he begins a character transition from Sebastian Schlencht-Wöhnert the bank-teller, into Ludwig Dieter, the international safe-cracker.

The parallels between this story and Wagner’s Ring Cycle become obvious as the film plays out. As Dieter cracks each of the three safes in Hans Wagner’s own Ring Cycle, he plays famed music from the opera, while explaining to his team member, Gwendolyn, a brief summary of the musical work and significance.

Here’s a brief introduction to the four operas which comprise Wagner’s Ring Cycle, and how they are linked to the safes in Army of Thieves.

Das Rheingold (The Rhinegold)

Wagner’s first opera of the Ring Cycle was completed in 1854. Despite being the first score to be completed, it was actually the last text to be written, as the operas were written from back-to-front, with the first text being the last opera, Twilight of the Gods.

The Rhinegold begins with three Rhine maidens who are approached by a Niebling dwarf, Alberich, who tries to woo them in order to reveal the Rhinegold (gold found in the river Rhein).

In a similar fashion, the first safe Dieter encounters, has three knobs designed to look like the Rhine maidens, and he has to crack the safe in order to find his own Rhinegold (the money inside the safe).

Die Walküre (The Valkyrie)

The second safe is based on the second opera in the Ring Cycle, completed in 1854.

The Valkyrie is an epic work in its own right. It’s over five hours long and is the birthplace of the infamous orchestral piece, The Ride of the Valkyries, which has appeared in numerous soundtracks, most notably in the 1979 American epic psychological war film, Apocalypse Now.

The engravings on The Valkyrie safe depict the story of Richard Wagner’s second opera, and Dieter correctly guesses that the knobs must be solved in the order of the story-telling.

 Dieter explains the storyline as he cracks the safe to the accompaniment of Ride of the Valkyries, saying: “Wagner’s work had many themes of great importance to him, but all of them touched upon love.

“I believe the locks are to be solved in the order of the story and then the cycle begins anew. The themes of these stories were the model, still relevant, such as deception and double cross in love.” 

Opera number three out of four of Wagner’s Ring Cycle, gives inspiration to the final safe we see cracked in this film.

Siegfried is named after the title tenor character, Siegfried, who is Siegmund and Sieglinde’s son. Siegfried grows up without parental care, and is instead raised in a foster care situation by the dwarf Alberich’s brother, Nibelung Mime.

Mime forges a sword for Siegfried in order to slay the dragon, Fafnir, and says that the dragon will teach Siegfried what fear is. This is echoed in Dieter’s fear when he attempts to crack the Siegfried safe; he is scared as he is not sure whether he will be able to break into this safe, due to his near failure with The Valkyrie, and the high-pressured situation he is in, trying to crack a safe in the back of a moving vehicle.

Dieter tries to crack ‘the Siegfried’ safe in Army of Thieves. Picture: Alamy

Dieter once again explains, in this opera, “Siegfried faces his darkest of trials in order to understand what it means to truly be afraid. He slays the dragon Fafnir and then he slays the dwarf who raised him, when confronted with his betrayal. Then he finds Brünnhilde and the two of them fall in love. After all the pain and fear, there’s a happy ending.”

This story follows a similar vein to Dieter’s own journey. His new persona of 'Ludwig Dieter' having started the film as Sebastian Schlencht-Wöhnert, was created and raised by the heist team – who would subsequently betray him in the final act. While he doesn’t slay his team, they are arrested, and he hopes the similarity between Siegfried finding love with Brünnhilde, and his own love interest in team member Gwendolyn, will be realised at the end of the film.

While not everything works out how he planned, the character of Dieter certainly follows a similar journey to the Ring Cycle’s main characters.

Götterdämmerung (Twilight of the Gods)

The fourth and final safe, is not actually seen in this film, but rather features in the first instalment of the movie franchise in Army of the Dead.

In the film, a different heist team are assembled to travel into Las Vegas, which has been overrun by Zombie’s since an outbreak six years previously.

The team are tasked with breaking into the final Hans Wagner safe, Götterdämmerung, which lies underneath the Las Vegas strip and contains $200 million, before an imminent nuclear bomb is set to destroy the city.

Due to Dieter’s experience, he is brought on as the safe-cracker, and is overjoyed to be able to join the team to fulfil his life’s purpose of cracking into the final Wagner safe. In the final act of Götterdämmerung, Brünnhilde dies in the ultimate act of self-sacrifice.

Dieter also sacrifices himself, locking his teammate, Vanderohe, in the final safe away while he is left outside with the ravenous Zombies.

Here ends the Ring Cycle of Dieter.

Who wrote the score for Army of Thieves?

The Army of Thieves score is by Hans Zimmer and Steve Mazzaro, who worked together on the recent Bond film, No Time to Die.

Zimmer also wrote the music for the first instalment of the cinematic universe, Army of the Dead. A wink is even given to the legendary German composer when one of the character’s describes how their brother’s favourite film is Pirates of the Caribbean, a film Zimmer scored.

The Army of Thieves soundtrack features multiple tracks from the three Wagnerian operas, and Army of the Dead features Siegfried’s Funeral March from Götterdämmerung during the safe-cracking scenes.

Netflix has been inspired to bring new audiences to classical music for the past few years, with series such as Bridgerton and Squid Game heavily featuring the genre.

As Richard Wagner and the Ring Cycle have been trending since the film premiered on 29 October, we’re excited to see how the streaming platform could bring a whole new (zombie-loving?) audience to classical music

My passion of music (IV)

The music of my life started at the age of 6. During my first steps on the piano with Beethoven's  "Für Elise", I remember my very first LP (Long Play) on my birthday gifts table: Serge Prokofieff's ' "Peter and the wolf". 

In an autobiographical sketch, the Russian composer described the three chief qualities of his complex work as: a classical or rather classicist rendencityan emotional vein and  grotesque element, which the composer detected as "fun, laughter, satire". "A symphonic tale for children '' awoke my dream of classical music.  

In spite of this drastic sound-painting  portrayal, the general effect produced is not that of a musical jest, but - thanks to Prokofieff's artistry and skill - one of singular poetry.

There are few musicians with such eloquence and improvisational skills as Sergei Prokofieff, the Russian composer of many different talents, some of which included the piano and keyboards. Born to a financially well-off family in 1891, Prokofieff’s first exposure to music was through his mother, who would spend two months a year learning the piano while also playing a few sonnets every evening. Prokofiff began learning the piano instantly, and became so proficient that he was then composing his first piano composition, under the watchful supervision of his mother. Before the age of 10, he had also shown interest in opera music and started work on his first opera, called The Giant.

In his early years, Prokofieff’s parents were adamant on providing him with theory lessons, so as to clarify his conceptual frameworks as far as the piano and composition went. However, they soon began having second thoughts about their young son pursuing a music career at such a delicate age, and therefore, decided to enroll him in the Saint Petersburg Conservatory. Here, he worked and learned the piano and other instruments under the auspices of renowned composers such as Alexander Winkler, Nikolai Tcherepnin and Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. Before his father’s death in 1910, he had started performing in local clubs and other music venues like the St. Petersburg Evenings of Contemporary Music, performing some of his early Piano Sonatas such as Four Etudes for Piano, Op 2(1909). All through the early 1910s, Prokofieff had been experimenting with a wide variety of genres, one of which was ballet music. While he may have succeeded in a number of other music compositions, he always seems to have a hard time with ballet music, with the likes of Chout becoming subject to intense modifications in the 1920s.
 
Having received menial works in the 1930s due to the Great Depression, Prokofieff decided to move to Russia in 1936. The period post-1936 was a completely different time for Prokofieff, and set in motion some of his most impressive works. Bearing in mind the hostile reality of the time, most of the themes covered in his works such as his orchestral piece Russian Overture (1936) and War Sonatas embraced war-related topics and disregarded true musical passion. However, Prokofiev managed to retain his incredible ingenuity with compositions such as Peter and the Wolf, Alexander Nevsky and Romeo and Juliet, all of which were received well on an international scale. Some of these compositions were Sergei Prokofiev’s most valuable works, and are still widely performed today.

The war and post-war years saw the likes of some impressive compositions, such as War and Peace, The Ballet Cinderella and various violin sonatas, encompassing the true remarkability that Prokofieff deserves large-scale appraise for. It becomes important to realize the tremendous contributions this great artist made to the classical music world, despite the troubles he so often had to face.

Because of Prokofieff, my world of classical music first opened up to Russia. Yes, not to Germany or Austria. Not to (sorry Maestro!) Beethoven or Liszt, Mozart or whomever.  Suddenly, fell in love with Tschaikowsky. His first piano concerto in b-minor kept me speechless and full of tears at any stage play, I was blessed during my whole life. 

The very first bars of this piano concerto are so distinctive that they will remain in the listener's memory forever. Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 is recognizable and catchy. Charismatic piano virtuoso Martha Argerich lends an elegant lightness to this impressive piece. Conducted by Charles Dutoit, Argerich performed with the Verbier Festival Orchestra at the Verbier Festival in 2014.

(To be continued!)

Johann Sebastian Bach and His Circle of Friends I

 by Georg Predota, Interlude

Johann Sebastian Bach

Carl Philipp Emanuel (1714-1788) described his father’s household in Leipzig as a “pigeon coop.” People were constantly swarming in and out all the time, and he told the Bach biographer Forkel, “with his many activities Bach hardly had time for the most necessary correspondence, and accordingly would not indulge in lengthy written exchanges. But he had the opportunity to talk personally to good people, since his house was full of life.”

Forkel: J.S. Bach Biography

Johann Sebastian and his wife Anna Magdalena Bach kept an open house, welcoming friends and colleagues from near and far. “No master of music was apt to pass through Leipzig without making Bach’s acquaintance and letting himself be heard by him.” And that included a good number of the leading figures in contemporary German musical life, including Carl Heinrich and Johann Gottlieb Graun, Franz Benda, Johann Joachim Quantz and the famous husband and wife team of Johann Adolph Hasse and Faustina Bordoni, who came to Leipzig several times. The Bach family frequently entertained at home, and that always included house concerts. And we do know that Carl Philipp Emanuel performed in his father’s Concerto for two Violins, BWV 1043.

Johann Nikolaus Forkel

From 1736 until his death, Johann Sebastian Bach held the title of Royal Polish and electoral Saxon Court Composer. The composer actually never traveled to the Kingdom of Poland or the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, governed by Augustus II (Augustus the Strong,) and his son Augustus III. However, when Augustus III succeeded his father in 1733, he announced a surprise visit to Leipzig one year later. Bach immediately went to work and in a mere three days composed his secular cantata “Preise dein Glücke, gesegnetes Sachsen,” (Praise your good fortune, blessed Saxony) BWV 215.

August Weger: J.S. Bach

This cantata was first performed on 5 October 1734, in front of the Apels Haus, the Elector’s palace on the market square in Leipzig. Apparently, Augustus III was overjoyed, and he wrote in his official account that he had been “warmly pleased.” Bach had already been in contact with Augustus III in 1733, when he presented the manuscript of a “Missa of Kyrie and Gloria” to the monarch. These movements later became part of the B-minor mass, and Bach eventually did get his “Royal Polish” 1736 appointment.

St. Michaelis monastery in Lüneburg

Johann Sebastian Bach lost both parents before the age of ten. He spent the next five years with his older brother Johann Christoph in the town of Ohrdruf. And at school, he became best friends with Georg Erdmann. When Johann Christoph’s ordered his younger brother out of the house, the two friends decided to walk to Lüneburg, a distance of almost 350 miles. There they joined the choir of the wealthy Michaelis monastery, which provided free places for poor boys with musical talent. The boys were inseparable until their paths diverged in 1702. Bach moved back to Thuringia, and we have no idea what happened to Erdmann over the next 27 years.

Bach’s letter to Erdmann

Bach and Erdmann had lost touch, but their friendship endured, as we learn from two surviving letters dating from around 1730. “Dear Friend,” Bach writes, “you might excuse an old friend, who allows himself to bother you with this letter. Almost four years are gone, since you answered my last letter. I remember you asked me to report about my difficulties, which I would like to do now. Since our youth you know my career, until my change as a bandmaster in Koethen…” Bach also reports to Erdmann about personal matters, “I am married for the second time… From my first marriage three sons and one daughter are still living, whom you saw in Weimar years ago. From my second marriage one son and two daughters are living. My oldest son is studying law; the two others still go to school, one in the prima; the other one in the secunda. The children from the second marriage are still little; the oldest is six years of age. They are all future musicians.” The “Partite diverse” BWV 766 dates from around 1700, at a time when both Ermann and Bach were studying at the Michaelis School.

Johann Matthias Gesner

During his time in Weimar, Bach became good friends with the eminent philologist and scholar Johann Matthias Gesner (1691-1761). An expert in Semitic languages, classical literature, metaphysics and theology, Gesner became librarian and vice-principal at Weimar. Eventually, Gesner was appointed rector at the School of St. Thomas, and he therefore became Bach’s boss. As it turns out, Gesner was the only superior in Bach’s 27 years of service in Leipzig who recognized, admired and fostered his greatness. Gesner freed Bach from many unnecessary responsibilities, and since he was an admirer of Bach’s music, “he allowed Bach to assume his social position as a truly great musician and to assert his influence at the school as well.” Gesner raised Bach’s salary, allowed him to travel, freed him from teaching Latin, and asked for advice on updating the curriculum, admissions, and administrative approaches. In fact, Gesner published an extensive description of Bach in 1738, placing the composer far above the musical gods of Greece. In turn, to celebrate Gesner’s 40th birthday on 9 April 1732, Bach adapted his Cantata “Soar upwards in your joy” to celebrate the occasion.

Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen

In 1719, Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen sent Johann Sebastian Bach on an errand to Berlin. Bach was placed in charge of negotiating for a new harpsichord for the court, and he tried out a number of instruments in the presence of Christian Ludwig, the Margrave of Brandenburg-Schwedt. We don’t know what Bach played on that occasion, but he was invited to send in some compositions.

Christian Ludwig, Margrave of
Brandenburg-Schwedt

Initially, Bach did not respond to the commission as he himself said, he “took a couple of years.” Bach changed his mind in 1721, however, as Prince Leopold summarily dismissed him from his services. As such, Bach was forced to look for employment opportunities elsewhere, and he sent the Margrave six instrumental compositions. These compositions became known as the Brandenburg Concertos, and they represent a compendium of highly original and individual compositions for a varied combination of instruments. According to the composer “they were written to exploit the resources of Cöthen.” However, these resources did not seem to have been available to the Margrave of Brandenburg. As such, Bach received no thanks, no fees and no employment offer. 

He was born Christian Friedrich Henrici in Dresden in 1700, but everybody knew him under the pseudonym “Picander”. Picander started his poetic career in Leipzig in 1721, and in time, he would become one of Bach’s most important poets. He probably wrote his first text for Bach in 1723 but there are still some uncertainties as to the authorship of texts during Bach’s first years in the city. However, by 1725 Bach and Picander were definitely working together.

Picander: Book of Poems, 1732

Their collaborations produced some of the most important works in the Lutheran tradition, including the St. Matthew Passion (BWV 244), the funeral music for Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen, and the St. Mark Passion (BWV 247). Picander claimed that Bach “set a whole cycle of his cantata texts in 1729.” Since only nine of these Bach settings are known to have survived, Picander’s claim must be approached with some caution. Their collaboration, however, wasn’t limited to religious texts, but also produced a number of secular works as well. For one, there is the well-known “Coffee Cantata,” and the delightful “Peasant Cantata,” written at a time when Picander served as a Liquor Tax Collector and Wine Inspector.

Georg Böhm

During his early years at Lüneburg, Bach was probably taking organ lessons from Georg Böhm (1661-1733). Böhm was principal organist at the Johanniskirche in Lüneburg, and the young Bach studied at the Michaelis School between 1700 and 1703.

First page of Reincken’s An Wasserflüssen Babylon, with an endnote in J. S. Bach’s hand

Although no formal connection existed between these two institutions, Bach’s son Carl Philipp Emanuel reported to the Bach biographer Forkel in 1775, “My father loved and studied the works of the Lüneburg organist Georg Böhm.” Strong and clear evidence of this teacher/student relationship emerged on 31 August 2006 when the earliest known Bach autograph was discovered. It is a copy of Reincken’s famous chorale fantasy “An Wasserflüssen Babylon,” and Bach signed it “Il Fine â Dom. Georg: Böhme descriptum ao. 1700 Lunaburgi.” It is clear that Bach knew Böhm personally, and they apparently became close friends. This friendship seems to have lasted for many years, as Bach named Böhm as his northern agent for the sale of his keyboard partitas No. 2 and 3 in 1727. 

Maria Barbara Bach (1684-1720) was the second cousin of Johann Sebastian Bach. She had been orphaned at an early age and was sent to live with relatives in Arnstadt. Johann Sebastian met her after his appointment as church organist in 1703, and for a time they apparently lived in the same house, as relatives do. In 1706, Bach was severely reprimanded for inviting a “strange maiden” into the church organ loft to “make music.” Scholars today believe that the maiden in question must have been Maria Barbara.

Johann Sebastian and Maria Barbara Bach

When Bach’s maternal uncle died in Erfurt, he left Bach a substantial amount of money. As such, Bach was able to marry Maria Barbara on 17 October 1707 in the village of Dornheim, near Arnstadt. Their marriage, by all accounts, was a contented one and four of their seven children lived into adulthood, including Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach.

C.P.E. Bach

In 1720, Bach accompanied his employer Prince Leopold to the spa in Karlsbad. When he returned two months later, he discovered that Maria Barbara had died from a sudden illness, and that she was already buried at Köthen’s Old Cemetery. She was only 35, and the heart-broken composer gave voice to his grief in the monumental “Chaconne,” the fifth and final movement of the Partita in D minor for solo violin. Play

Johann Adolph Scheibe

The composer, organist, theorist and music critic Johann Adolph Scheibe (1708-1776) considered J.S. Bach and George Frideric Handel to be the finest composers of keyboard music. Yet, on 14 May 1737, Scheibe published a weighty criticism of Bach’s music, claiming “by his bombastic and intricate procedures he deprived music of naturalness and obscured their beauty by an excess of art.”

Title page of Scheibe’s music criticism, 1745

Bach was not amused, and he urged his friend, the Leipzig lecturer in rhetoric Johann Abraham Birnbaum (1702-1748) to write a response. That response was printed in January 1738, and Bach distributed the article among his friends and acquaintances. It discusses the issues of naturalness and artificiality in Bach’s style, and his “definition of harmony as an accumulation of counterpoint,” made an important statement about the unique character of Bach’s compositional art. Scheibe’s attack, as it turned out, stimulated a good bit of sympathy for Bach, and in the end he published a conciliatory review of the Italian Concerto, which included the apology “I did this great man an injustice.” Play

Electress Christiane Eberhardine

In order to commemorate the death of the Electress Christiane Eberhardine in 1727, the University of Leipzig planned an extended memorial ceremony. The Electress was somewhat of a religious celebrity, as she had remained a Protestant when her husband, August the Strong of Saxony, had converted to Roman Catholicism.

Johann Christoph Gottsched

Bach was commissioned to set a text by the Leipzig professor poetry, Johann Christoph Gottsched (1700-1766). That commission proofed to be controversial, as the university director of music Johann Gottlieb Görner, considering himself to be Bach’s superior, tried to bar Bach from taking any role in the service. The council thought otherwise and Bach retained the commission. As such, Bach performed the two parts of his Funeral Ode (BWV 198) on 17 October 1727. This cantata unfolds in ten sections, and includes chorales, recitatives and solo arias for soprano, alto, and tenor. Even the bass gets a lengthy accompanied recitative that borders on being an aria itself.

(To be continued!)

Alessandro Scarlatti - His Music and His Life

The Scarlatti family was one of the most prominent musical dynasties in Italy, with various branches of the family living in Sicily, Rome, and in northern Italy. Alessandro Scarlatti (1660-1725) became the most important opera composer of his generation in Italy, and in April 1678 he married Antonia Anzalone. That union produced ten children, including Domenico, born on 26 October 1685 in Naples. Following in the footsteps of his famous father, Domenico composed three operas for Naples but was sent to Venice where he met Handel.

Detail of a painting by Gaspare Traversi, showing Scarlatti
tutoring Princess Barbara of Portugal

He subsequently appeared in Rome in 1708 to became maestro di capella to the exiled queen of Poland, Maria Casimira, and took on an appointment to the royal chapel of João V of Portugal in 1719. Before arriving in Lisbon, Domenico had already composed a number of keyboard pieces, and he kept adding to his catalogue by producing sonatas for his students. When his first publication, 30 sonatas called “Essercizi” were issued in 1738, it sold like hotcakes throughout Europe. During the last six years of his life, he organized his keyboard sonatas into various manuscripts, and he left us roughly 555 works in that particular genre.

Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757) was an Italian harpsichordist and composer. His harpsichord sonatas are highly distinctive and original.

Domenico Scarlatti was born in Naples on Oct. 26, 1685, the son of Alessandro Scarlatti, the most famous composer in Italy in the early 18th century. Other members of the Scarlatti family were active as professional musicians. This background may have helped Domenico, for it encouraged his musical gifts and provided contacts in the musical profession. On the other hand, it gave him the problem of developing in his own way while under the influence of his father. Alessandro was not only a composer of genius, but a man of strong personality who did not get along well with some of his pupils and colleagues.

It is natural to assume, though there is no actual proof, that Domenico studied first with his father. As early as 1701, Domenico was appointed organist in the royal chapel at Naples. The following year he went to Florence with his father and stayed there for 4 months. Domenico then returned to Naples, where several operas of his were produced in 1703 and 1704.

A more important trip for Domenico occurred in 1708, when he went to Venice. There he became acquainted with Francesco Gasparini, a leading composer and the author of an excellent treatise on thorough-bass. It has been assumed, though again not proved, that Domenico studied with Gasparini in Venice. Also while he was in Venice, Domenico met and struck up a friendship with a young man, his exact contemporary, who was to become even more celebrated a composer: George Frederick Handel. It is from this period in Venice that we have our first report of Domenico's harpsichord playing. It describes how he played at a private musical gathering and astonished his audience by his brilliant virtuoso performance.

For the next 10 years Scarlatti worked in Rome. From 1709 to 1714 he was in the service of Maria Casimira, Queen of Poland, and for her private theater he wrote a number of operas. When Maria Casimira left Rome in 1714, Scarlatti became chapelmaster of the Portuguese ambassador. Then, from 1715 to 1719, he served as chapelmaster of the Cappella Giulia in the Vatican.

In 1720, or shortly before, Scarlatti left Italy; although he later returned to his native country, it seems that he never again took up a permanent post there. Probably in 1720 he was appointed chapelmaster of the royal chapel in Lisbon. This proved to be a most consequential appointment for Scarlatti. One of his duties was to teach members of the royal Portuguese family, and one of these members, the Infanta Maria Barbara, was a gifted and enthusiastic pupil. Her devotion to music was no passing fancy: she practiced and played the harpsichord apparently all her life. She also remained devoted to her teacher.

After Maria Barbara married Fernando, Prince of Asturias, in 1729, she moved to the Spanish court at Madrid, and Scarlatti went with her. He remained in her service for the rest of his life. He was knighted in Madrid in 1738; he married a Spanish woman, after the death of his first (Italian) wife; and he died in Madrid on July 23, 1757.

Scarlatti wrote 12 operas (2 of which were written in collaboration with other composers), chamber cantatas, sacred music, and over 550 sonatas for harpsichord. He composed much of his vocal music, both sacred and secular, before he settled in Spain. Most of it is characteristic music of the period: well composed but not particularly individual. A few of his vocal works are outstanding. But by and large Scarlatti was not at his best in writing for the voice. His true genius is revealed rather in his sonatas for harpsichord.

These sonatas are so individual, so varied in their forms and styles, that it is difficult to give a general description of them. One can say that the majority of the sonatas are built of two sections: they move from the tonic to the dominant key or to the relative major or minor and then back again to the tonic key. But within this basic form there are numerous substructures. And some of the sonatas are composed in forms altogether different.

The chronology of Scarlatti's sonatas has been much discussed and is still problematic. Most of his sonatas are preserved in copies made late in his life; but this does not necessarily mean that they were composed so late. Probably Scarlatti improvised his pieces, and perhaps wrote them down partially, during the course of his life. Then, at a later date, he had them written down in fair copies.

It seems that the earliest harpsichord pieces by Scarlatti are those in dance forms, or in forms similar to the toccatas of his father. Somewhat later Scarlatti began to compose those sonatas on which his fame rests: the brilliant virtuoso pieces with striking harmonies, bold dissonances, and sudden contrasts of texture. His sonatas are remarkable for the way they exploit the resources of the harpsichord—to musical advantage. They call for a large, two-manual harpsichord and for a highly proficient harpsichordist.

But brilliance and virtuosity do not account for the greatness of Scarlatti's sonatas. The best ones are perfectly realized works of art. Each one carries through its own, distinctive musical ideas, and each one is different from the others. This individuality is a central feature of Scarlatti's sonatas.

The characteristic, unique style of the sonatas seems to be original with Scarlatti himself. Although elements of his style can be traced to earlier keyboard music in Italy, Portugal, or Spain, there is nothing quite like the total effect. On the basis of his harpsichord sonatas, Scarlatti must rank as one of the most original creative minds in the history of music.

27 October: Niccolò Paganini Is Born

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Niccolò Paganini

Niccolò Paganini was born in Genoa, then capital of the Republic of Genoa, on 27 October 1782. His father, Antonio Paganini was a dockworker and unsuccessful trader who supplemented his meager income by playing the mandolin for social occasions. Unsurprisingly, under the tutelage of his father, young Niccolò started studying the mandolin at the age of 5. Two years later, he started lessons on the violin, and Paganini recalls, “When I attained my seventh year, my father, whose ear was unmusical but who was nevertheless passionately fond of music, gave me my elementary lessons on the violin; in a very few months, I was able to play all manner of compositions at sight.”

Antoine Watteau: Guitar Technique

In due course Paganini became the most famous violin virtuoso and one of the greatest musicians of all time. Not as well known is the fact, however, that Paganini composed a large number chamber works, mostly with or for guitar. As he pointedly stated, “The violin is my mistress, but the guitar is my master.”

Paganini: Grans Sonata for Guitar

By the turn of the 19th century, the modern six single string guitar had become increasingly common. The instrument had lost much of its communality with the lute, and it gradually morphed into the modern guitar. The sound of the guitar became more powerful, more expressive and its playing techniques, notation and tuition improved. Hector Berlioz, who was a competent guitarist mentioned the instrument in his Grand traité d’instrumentation et d’orchestration modernes of 1843, and commented that “it is almost impossible to write well for the guitar without being a player on the instrument.” The instrument was highly prized in aristocratic circles, and it was also used for performances in private homes. We have no conclusive evidence that Paganini took guitar lessons, but he certainly possessed the physical and intellectual skills to master the instrument. As he later told his biographer Julius Schottky, “he very much enjoyed playing the guitar” and he composed well over 100 works for the instrument.

Paganini’s guitar by Gennaro Fabricatore, 1826

Paganini wrote, “I love the guitar for its harmony; it is my constant companion on all my travels.” Seemingly, he would play the guitar alongside the violin, often as a soloist or in duet with the Italian guitarist Luigi Legnani. They met in Genoa in 1835 and did perform a number of concerts together. Legnani was called the “Paganini of the guitar,” and Paganini’s compositions dedicated to him feature brilliant guitar parts discreetly accompanied by simple violin passages. It has been suggested “this feature allowed Paganini and Legnani to swap their instruments in concert in order to perform these works: as a basic violinist, Legnani could easily accompany his friend playing the guitar.” On one occasion, Paganini wrote, “I do not like the guitar, but regard it simply as a way of helping me to think.” This appears to be somewhat of an understatement, as Paganini owned a number of guitars throughout his life. In fact, he refused to sell an instrument by Gennaro Fabricatore even during his period of greatest financial stress, “and it was still among his possessions at the time of his death.”

Guitar owned by Paganini and Berlioz

The Italian publisher Ricordi first advertised two sets of sonatas for violin and guitar and six guitar quartets by Paganini in 1820. Over time, Paganini would compose a further nine quartets combining the violin with the viola, cello and guitar. However, a substantial number of his chamber works featuring the guitar remain unpublished. At one time, the Italian government was offered the entire collection of Paganini’s guitar composition, but they turned down the offer. Only recently have scholars and performers started to explore this hidden repertoire. A scholar writes, “Both violin and guitar are integral parts of Paganini’s unique personality. It is no longer possible to think of one without thinking of the other. The links may not at first be obvious, given that the violin music was for public consumption, with all the superficial display that the public demanded, while the guitar was for music at home among friends. It remains, however, music created by the same man.” There was no such hesitation in London between 1832 and 1834. Paganini had become rather interested in the viola as a solo instrument, and he performed his Terzetto for viola, cello and guitar at a private concert. On that occasion, Felix Mendelssohn played the guitar part on the piano.

“Always With You, Only Because of You, and Forever for You!"

By Georg Predotaby, Interlude

Josef Strauss © Naxos Digital Services

The musical Strauss family dynasty took full advantage of the pleasure-seeking and carefree spirit of Imperial Vienna. As members of the public piled into the great dance halls of the city, the Strauss family gleefully provided the musical background that gaily sent the Viennese population into throbbing gyrations. As leaders of the string section in the Strauss Orchestra, they fiddled their way into the hearts and beds of numerous young maidens. Johann Strauss I and Johann Strauss II—widely known as the Waltz King—became the darlings of the Viennese dance craze and the objects of female desire. Messy divorces, squabbles over illegitimate children and an occasional suicide attempt were all part of the Strauss musical empire. Josef Strauss (1827-1870), son of Johann I and brother of Johann II, however, wanted nothing to do with all that debauchery. He was a quiet and shy individual, who initially became an industrious engineer for the city of Vienna. He did take over shared responsibility for the Strauss Orchestra when Johann II became seriously ill. However, all he ever wanted in his private life was to marry his childhood sweetheart, the seamstress Karoline Pruckmayer (1831-1900). And that’s exactly what happened on 8 June 1857 in the St. Johann Parish Church in Leopoldstadt.

Josef Strauss’ Brennende Liebe, Op. 129

As a wedding present to his wife, Josef Strauss composed his concert waltz “Pearls of Love.” That remarkable piece of music is not merely a sparkling ballroom trinket, but Josef expanded on the traditional form of Viennese dance music. As he subsequently wrote to his wife, “As I do not want to practice the trade of beer-fiddler forever, I am turning to other kinds of composition.” Of great importance is an unmistakable symphonic development, which relies on stylistic influences from Richard Wager and Franz Liszt. Josef Strauss called it a “concert waltz,” nudging the genre away from the ballroom and into the concert hall. The first review already noted the special character of the composition, suggesting, “the newly-composed waltz is offered in a wholly original structure in new form.” In fact, “the work is remarkable for its conception and power, surpassing anything that his famous brother Johann II had yet created.” Josef’s talents as a composer were immediately recognized, but even more importantly, his marriage to Karoline was happy, successful and fulfilled. Their daughter Karolina Anna was born on 27 March 1858.

Pavlovsk Music Pavilion and Train station

In the summer of 1862, Josef’s mother Anna—keeping track of all business aspects of the Strauss Empire—ordered her son Josef to travel to Russia. Originally, Johann II was supposed to direct the concerts of the Strauss Orchestra in Pavlovsk near St. Petersburg. However, the Waltz King was under the weather, and as soon as Josef arrived, he returned to Vienna and got married. Josef wasn’t particularly happy to be drafted to Russia, but he willingly substituted for his brother. Once he had returned to Vienna, Josef immediately presented a new set of waltzes that included the polka mazurka “Burning Love.” Originally it was assumed Josef had named this work after a popular flower. In the event, this polka has nothing to do with flowers, but musically encodes Josef’s burning love for his wife, as it was composed in Russia during this unexpected period of separation.

Graveyard of Josef Strauss

The first heated debates about the position of women in society and the idea of women’s liberation was a hotly debated issue in Vienna during the middle of the 19th century.

The debut of violinist Marie Grüner as conductor of Vienna’s well-known Ludwig Morelli Orchestra in 1860 was treated in numerous newspaper articles as an example of women’s emancipation, and the debates were revived as women attained high positions in business and the arts. The first female university students and the first women doctors certainly made headlines. Josef Strauss was extremely happily married to Karoline, and he wished for nothing else than to free his wife from the bonds of family and to be able to provide her with independent employment. In fact, he championed women’s causes in a whole sting of compositions, including “A Woman’s Heart,” “A Woman’s Dignity,” and the polka mazurka “The Emancipated Woman.” When the work premiered in 1870 at the ball of the Garden Society, Karoline was in the audience, and she knew that this work was especially addressed to her. In 1869, Johann II and Josef spent the summer season once more in Russia. Josef was feeling unwell, and he wrote to his wife, “I do not look good, my cheeks are hollower, I have lost my hair, I am becoming dull on the whole, I have no motivation to work.” Despite his physical ailments, Josef composed “From Afar” for Karoline. Shortly before the first performance, Josef wrote to his wife:

Always with you
only because of you and
forever for you!

Chopin’s Illness and His Posthumous Music

 by Georg Predota , Interlude 

Frédéric Chopin

Frédéric Chopin suffered from serious and chronic health problems throughout his short life. Already in his teens, Chopin suffered from frequent respiratory problems that included coughing, headaches, and the swelling of the cervical lymph glands. Biographers and doctors have detailed numerous episodes of bronchitis and laryngitis, and he appears to have caught a bout of influenza in Paris in 1837. Adding to this were several periods of severe depression, as he complained of “hopelessness, apathy, and sleeplessness.” It has been reported that he frequently had to “be carried to bed after playing the piano for a long time.” His doctor, Paul-Léon-Marie Gaubert assured him that he was not suffering from tuberculosis, but that might simply have been some friendly misdirection. As Chopin’s health deteriorated after 1840, he was described “as pale, thin, looking ill, and weighing only 45 kilograms.”

Delacroix: Chopin, 1838

When Chopin traveled to England during the winter of 1847 his health had only deceptively improved. He was habitually short of breath and lacked energy, and instead of performing a series of concerts, as he had hoped, he spent most of his time in bed. A side trip to Scotland in April 1848 only made matters worse, and he returned to Paris in a seriously weakened state in November of that year. An army of doctors tended to his physical ailments, including cough, fever, painful wrists and ankles, hemoptysis, hematemesis and ankle edema. Chopin’s condition deteriorated further at the beginning of October 1849, and he died on the morning of 17 October 1849 “after having been unconscious for 24 hours.” The death certificate listed tuberculosis in the lungs and larynx as the official cause. Dr. Jean Cruveilhier, considered one of the foremost medical experts, performed the autopsy, but his report has never been found.

Frédéric Chopin, 1849

Despite his constant health struggles, “Chopin reached a new plateau of creative achievement, marked by an eloquent simplicity which severely excludes the extraneous and the gratuitously ornamental.” These last works, however, did cause Chopin and assorted editors and publishers some difficulties. Chopin generally bypassed the sketching process and proceeded directly from the piano to the engraver’s manuscript. As such, dealing with Chopin’s posthumous works—some I am featuring in this article—turned out to be a rather complex undertaking. Chopin’s posthumous publications of 1855 and 1869 featured opp. 66-74. The edition was prepared by Julian Fontana for Meissonier and A.M. Schlesinger. Theses posthumous works resurface in the two earliest collected editions of Chopin’s work. Fétis edited one for Schonenberger in 1860, and the other was edited by Chopin’s Norwegian student Tellefsen and published by Richault, also in 1860. These two editions are markedly different because “the first assumed an editorial license, an implicit belief that the editor knows best, while the second attempted to recover a living Chopin performance tradition, even if this involved departing from the sources.”

Chopin on his deathbed

The majority of Chopin editions published in the late 19th and early 20th century followed these two opposing philosophies. Furthermore, the late 19th century cultivated several different images of Chopin. In France, Chopin was considered the poet of the piano, who “disclosed his suffering through music.” His music was placed entirely within an intimate performance context, and his art for nuance, sophistication and refinement was considered a model to be followed. In Germany, meanwhile, Chopin was freed from the Parisian salon and elevated to a composer of classical music. For Russian composers, Chopin was first and foremost a Slavonic composer, and England “largely domesticated his compositions… reducing his music to ‘drawing-room trifles,” and ‘pearls’.” Chopin’s music was, for the late 19th century, “an intimate communication, an agent for cultural and even political propaganda, and a commodity.”