On This Day 4 April: Bedřich Smetana’s Vltava (The Moldau) Was Premiered

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Vltava in Prague

The conductor Adolf Čech (1841-1903) premiered a number of significant works by Antonín Dvořák, Zdeněk Fibich, and Bedřich Smetana. Such was the case on 4 April 1875, when he took the podium with the Orchestra of the Prague Provisional Theatre in a musical depiction of Bohemia’s longest river. Smetana tone poem Vltava (The Moldau), perhaps the most famous river journey ever sounded in music, was rapturously received by audiences and critics alike.

Adolf Čech

Smetana had actually composed the work after losing his hearing completely. He had noticed substantial hearing loss in 1874, and he informed the Provisional Theatre’s management of his situation. “It was in July… that I noticed that in one of my ears the notes in the higher octaves were pitched differently than in the other and that at times I had a tingling feeling in my ears and heard a noise as though I was standing by a mighty waterfall. My condition changed continuously up to the end of July when it became a permanent state of affairs and it was accompanied by spells of giddiness so that I staggered to and fro and could walk straight only with the greatest concentration.” And while he could no longer perform music, he certainly could still write. Almost immediately “he plunged into composing the first two movements of his Má Vlast (My Country) cycle.” 

Bedřich Smetana

Like many educated Bohemians, Smetana spoke German rather than Czech, and his musical education and orientation were entirely Germanic. Yet, he was profoundly sympathetic to the patriotic yearnings of his fellow people. Political stirrings of national identity and pride ignited a great awakening across Europe in 1848. Urging an end to Habsburg absolutist rule, Smetana openly participated in this revolution, and he was barely able to escape arrest. Unable to establish a career in Prague, Smetana left for exile in Sweden. Once he was able to return, he devoted himself to a musical career in Prague that would honour his homeland. Stirred by the rhythms and melodies of Czech folk music, he created a new and unique poetic language. Smetana enthusiastically envisioned operas and symphonic works based on themes from Czech history and mythology, and he proudly proclaimed, “I am Czech in body and soul.” The establishment of the Provisional Theatre in 1863 celebrated the autonomy of a unique Czech nation, and it exclusively promoted Czech music, specifically Czech nationalist opera.

František Dvořák: Bedřich Smetana and Friends in 1865

Smetana’s comic opera The Bartered Bride is the intimate realisation of the composer’s artistic vision. Set in a country village with realistic characters, the spirited heroine has to use all her determination, charm and cunning to marry the man she loves. It is a joyous celebration of Czech culture and identity, and the distinct rhythmic inflections of the Czech language and of Czech folk dances combine irresistibly. Smetana said he was trying to give the music “a popular character, because the plot was taken from village life and demanded a national treatment.”

Provisional Theatre, Prague

In so doing, he rhythmically referenced the characteristic folk dances of Bohemia—the polka, the skočná and the furiant. Smetana provides only occasional glimpses of authentic Czech folk melodies, and the habitual emphasis on the authenticity of the setting and costumes in productions is primarily a matter of staging. Nevertheless, Smetana “clearly felt the pulse of peasantry” and the simplicity of the music not only connected to a broad folk base, but also proved highly inspirational to the emerging independence movement.

Vltava from Bohnice

The subject of turning the Vltava River into a tone poem first occurred to Smetana in August 1867. Traveling with his musical friend Mořic Anger to the western edge of Bohemia, near its border with Germany, Anger recalled. “Great and unforgettable was the impression made on Smetana by our outing to Čenek’s sawmill in Hirschenstein, where the Křemelná joins the River Vydra. It was there that the first ideas for his majestic symphonic poem Vltava were born and took shape. Here he heard the gentle, poetic song of the two streams. He stood there, deep in thought. He sat down and stayed there, motionless as though in a trance. Smetana looked around at the enchantingly lovely countryside, at the confluence of the streams, he followed the Otava, accompanying it in spirit to the spot where it joins the Vltava, and within him sounded the first chords of the two motives which intertwine and increase and later grow and swell into a mighty melodic stream.” Smetana’s river journey was well received across the political spectrum. For the feared critic Eduard Hanslick, “Smetana was at bottom a German composer; for the radical German nationalist critics, the composer’s Czech nationalism was seen as a salutary model for properly German national composers to emulate.

Albert Schweitzer – Bach, Peace and Cats

by Georg Predota , Interlude

“There are only two means of refuge from the miseries of life:
Music and Cats!”

Albert Schweitzer

For many of us mere mortals, it seems utterly unfair that some fortuitous individuals should inherit multiple talents and abilities. Take for example the polymath genius Albert Schweitzer, who made major scholarly contributions to theology and music in the early years of the twentieth century. Not satisfied, he abandoned his academic career and established a medical mission in Africa, a legacy of humanitarian service that is still active today.

Schweitzer was born 14 January 1875 in Kayserberg in Upper Alsace, the son of a Lutheran pastor. He took organ lessons at an early age, and started private lessons with the famed Parisian organist Charles-Marie Widor in 1893. His passion for organ music was paralleled by a fascination with theology and he concordantly entered Strasbourg University to study theology and philosophy. He submitted a dissertation on the philosophy of Immanuel Kant to earn the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in July 1899, followed by a Doctorate in Theology with a dissertation on the “Last Supper” in 1900. A second work, “A Sketch of the life of Jesus” was published in 1901 and challenged the secular view of Jesus. His multiple writings reviewed, summarized and critiqued a vast corpus of research into the Life of Jesus that stressed the distance between the historical Jesus and contemporary views that saw Jesus detached from the cultural context of Judaism. For many thinkers, his greatest contribution to humanity was his quest for a universal ethical philosophy. Following the military use of nuclear weapons on Japan’s civilian population, Schweitzer felt that Western civilization was inexorably decaying because it had abandoned affirmation of life as its ethical foundation. His most influential discourse, “Reverence for Life” not only laid the theoretical foundation for his personal missionary works in Africa, it also gained him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1952.

Schweitzer’s theological acumen also uniquely paved the way for his scholarly and practical interpretation of J.S. Bach’s music. He began to explore the use of pictorial and symbolical representations in Bach’s Chorale Preludes, in which harmonic language, musical motifs and rhythmic figures illustrate the actual words of the hymns on which they were based. At the instigation of Widor, Jean-Sebastian Bach: Le Musicien-Poète was published in 1905 and presented a critical study of Bach’s music based on devotional contemplation in which the musical design corresponded to literary ideas and was visually represented in the score. Originally published in French, great demand in Germany prompted Schweitzer to rewrite his study and he eventually published two greatly expanded German volumes in 1908.

Albert Schweitzer’s published writings on J.S. Bach

As a performer, Schweitzer was constantly in search of “clarity of expression.” Growing up in Alsace, he had experienced the sleek, colorful and highly characteristic sounds of the organs produced by Gottfried and Andreas Silbermann, the most famous and influential instrument builders active during J.S. Bach’s lifetime. For performances of Bach’s music therefore, Schweitzer advocated a move away from the large Romantic instruments of the 19th Century and called for more refined instruments suited to Baroque music. The Art of German and French Organ Building and Organ Playing was published in 1906, and not only laid the foundation for the modern-day instruments, but also aided in his personal restoration of the Organ at St. Aurelie in Strasbourg, which produced his famous 1936 recording of Bach’s “Chorale Preludes.” Prior to his departure for Africa in 1912, Schweitzer founded the Paris Bach Society, and published a new edition of Bach’s organ works with detailed analysis of each work in three languages. After eight grueling years of study, Schweitzer also qualified as a medical doctor with a specialization in tropical medicine and surgery, and he began to raise private funds for the establishment of a hospital based at Lambaréné in the French Congo. Schweitzer was a harsh critic of colonialism, and his medical mission was his response to the “injustices and cruelties people have suffered at the hands of Europeans.” Until his death in 1965, Schweitzer continued to publish, lecture, perform and care for the sick. He apparently did so in the company of his two cats, “Sizi” and “Piccolo.” According to legend, his cats liked to sleep in the middle of his desk and if someone needed some papers, “they were required to wait until the cats woke up.” However you’d like to describe Albert Schweitzer — intelligent, articulate, compassionate, musical, spiritual or ethical — we could certainly do worse then to aspire to his level of humanity.

Why Rachmaninoff Wrote So Much Music in Minor Keys

by Janet Horvath, Interlude

Sergei Rachmaninoff

You have to hand it to composer Sergei Rachmaninoff—his three symphonies, the Symphonic Dances, four piano concertos, and the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini are all written in minor keys. Other favorites, perhaps less frequently performed, are also in minor keys. Is there a reason?

Born in 1873, a leading piano virtuoso, composer, and conductor, Rachmaninoff became one of the last major figures of Russian romanticism. As a youngster, he began piano by the age of four, and displayed uncanny talent but he also experienced emotional ups and downs over his relationships and the successes or failures of his music. He lost two of his sisters, one to diphtheria and the other to pernicious anemia, and his father left the family.

The first performance of his Symphony No. 1 in D minor in 1897, a fiasco, led to scathing and caustic reviews. Rachmaninoff, overcome with despair, descended into a depression that lasted four years. The piece was never performed again during his lifetime. It is now said that the conductor of the premiere, Glazunov, was not only incompetent but also drunk at the time of the premiere.

By 1900 Rachmaninoff was paralyzed with self-doubt and unable to compose. After professional help, his creative juices were rekindled. The Piano Concerto No. 2, completed in 1901 and performed by Rachmaninoff himself, was a success and led to a Glinka Award. During the early 1900s Rachmaninoff, successfully toured the US, and lived in Germany for a time.

The Russian Revolution in 1917 caused great turmoil for the family. His estate was confiscated. Trying to keep his family safe from the bombardments, plagued with financial difficulties, he and his family left Russia and moved to New York. The self-imposed exile resulted in a wrenching time for the composer. The family after all relied on his income as a piano soloist and as a conductor. He performed 70 concerts during his tour of America during the 1922-23 season alone. Hence his compositional output was minimal—just six pieces from 1918-1943.

Arguably one of Rachmaninoff’s most famous pieces The Prelude Op. 3 No.2 is in C# minor and launched Rachmaninoff’s career after he performed this piece in 1892. Composers believe that particular keys evoke discernable and unique feelings. On the piano, this key uses many of the black keys with its slow chords, and one senses anxiety and tension from the beginning. There is a story that the inspiration for this work was a dream Rachmaninoff experienced: Set at a funeral where the coffin is prominently placed, he approaches the coffin, and to his horror he sees himself inside! That calls for a minor key!

Let me draw your attention to a few other works in minor keys.

In 1893, deeply affected by the death of Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff composed his Trio Élégiaque No. 2 in D minor Op. 9 in Tchaikovsky’s memory, a piece filled with grief and anguish. The repeated descending notes in the first movement in the piano are decidedly morose with heart-rending cello and violin lines. The movement builds to a feverish climax and then as if spent, the music slows. A poignant melodic section accompanied by palpitating strings interrupts. A brief return to the agitated music precedes fading away in gloom. 

The Cello Sonata in G minor Op.19 from 1901, was one of the first works Rachmaninoff wrote once he emerged from his stupor. How fortunate for cellists. It’s a gorgeous piece extremely tender and lyrical but fiendishly difficult for the pianist. Dedicated to the brilliant cellist Anatoliy Brandukov the first movement opens hesitantly, without a clear rhythm, but a passionate, breathless melody ensues, followed by a turbulent and foreboding scherzo. The four-movement piece includes a ravishing slow movement and a triumphant and massive finale. Perhaps imitating Rachmaninoff’s monumental personal journey? 

Variations on a Theme of Corelli Op.42 is a set of 20 variations, for the piano. All but two variations are in D minor (the 14th and 15th are in D-flat major.) The theme is actually La Folia used by Corelli when he composed his Sonata for Violin and Continuo in 1700, which incorporates 23 Variations also in D minor. Rachmaninoff dedicated his variations to his friend esteemed violinist Fritz Kreisler. It begins in a stately fashion but the piece soon manifests Rachmaninoff’s style—melodies that remind us of his Paganini Variations, dark full passages like in his symphonies, virtuoso sections with big chords and octaves, and suspenseful moments with unpredictable rhythms and harmonies. Rachmaninoff’s originality is impressive and it takes a superb pianist to bring these elements to the fore.

The Isle of the Dead Symphonic Poem Op. 29 is composed in A minor. The piece was inspired by the Swiss symbolist artist Arnold Böcklin’s Isle of the Dead in a black and white rendition. Dark water, a barren island, craggy rocks, haunting hallucinations of a coffin, cemeteries, mourning, and the ancient chant of the dead Dies Irae recurs and alludes to death. The piece had to be in a minor key! It begins ominous, in the low strings, in the unusual and unsettling meter of a slow 5/8. The tension rises to an epic climax punctuated by multiple cymbal crashes. Chilling. Slowly unraveling, the piece returns to the dirge in darkness.

Ultimately Rachmaninoff had reason in his life to resort to minor keys to express his many disappointments and tragedies. And yet there is an infinite inventiveness in his music, which never fails to move us.

The Ukrainian Factor in Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1

by Georg Predota, Interlude

The Tchaikovsky family in 1848. Left to right: Pyotr (nicknamed Petya), Alexandra Andreyevna (mother), Alexandra (sister), Zinaida, Nikolay, Ippolit, Ilya Petrovich (father) © englishwordplay.com

Even at the best of times, the relationship between Russia and the Ukraine has been somewhat troubled. Although they share much of their early history, the Mongol invasion in the 13th century initiated a distinct division between the Russian and Ukrainian people. Tensions escalated over subsequent centuries, and from the mid 17th century, the Ukraine was gradually absorbed into the Russian Empire. In 1918, Ukraine declared its full independence from the Russian Republic, and it took two treaties to calm the military conflict. In 1922, both Ukraine and Russia were founding members of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and both were signatories to the termination of the union in December 1991. Ever since, acute and ongoing territorial and political disputes have shaped the tenuous relationship between the two countries. You only have to listen to the daily news to know what I mean!

The reason for this brief historical overview is simple. Textbooks on music history consider Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840–1893) “an outstanding Russian composer,” and rather conveniently overlook the fact that the composer had Ukrainian roots. His paternal grandfather Pyotr Fyodorovich Chaikovsky was born in the Ukrainian village of Mykolayivka, and he trained as a doctor at the Kyiv Academy. His military service took him throughout Russia, but his son Ilya Chaikovsky (1795–1880) remained close to the Ukrainian roots of his father. And the same is certainly true for his son Pyotr Ilyich. Although born in the Russian town of Votkinsk, Tchaikovsky annually spent several months in the Ukraine, where he composed over 30 works. Tchaikovsky wrote: “I found the peace of mind here that I had unsuccessfully sought in Moscow and Petersburg.”

Tchaikovsky knew and loved Ukrainian folklore for its melodiousness and profound lyricism, and these important cultural and musical influences found their way into some of his best-known compositions, including the Piano Concerto No.1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23.

The house where Tchaikovsky used to stay in Ukraine

Nikolai Rubinstein was generally regarded as the foremost Russian pianist of his time, and he greatly encouraged Tchaikovsky’s creative effort. However, their friendship became severely strained when Tchaikovsky dedicated, and presented his first Piano Concerto to Rubinstein. Tchaikovsky recalled that “I played the entire work for Rubinstein, but he did not say a single word. When he finally spoke, a torrent of insults poured from his mouth. My concerto was worthless and unplayable. Passages were so fragmented, so clumsy, so badly written that they were beyond rescue. The work was bad, vulgar and I had shamelessly stolen from other composers.” To consider the work unplayable is one thing, but to call it vulgar hints at a fundamental dislike of its Ukrainian influences. Needless to say, Tchaikovsky hastily changed the dedication to Hans von Bülow, who gave the first performance of the work on October 25, 1875 in Boston.

The first movement inscribed “Allegro non troppo” opens with a majestic introduction, broadly voiced in the orchestra and forcefully punctuated by widely spaced chords in the piano. This memorable tune—scored in the unusual key of D-flat major—is first heard in the orchestra and later taken over by the soloist. Surprisingly, the soloist proceeds straightaway into an extensive piano cadenza. Once the strings articulate the theme once more, the introduction comes to a close, and astoundingly, this theme is never heard again. Soft horn calls and a brass chorale announce the movement properly, with its first theme derived from an Ukrainian folk tune. Maintaining a perfectly balanced discourse between the orchestra and soloist, Tchaikovsky energetically emphasizes the rhythmic qualities of this tune. The lyrical contrast, which unfolds in two sentimental melodies, is first introduced by the orchestra and then repeated by the solo piano. A highly virtuosic interlude provides the segue-way for an extended development section, which continues to alternate passages of dramatic expression with virtuoso displays by the soloist.

A gentle and introspective dance, introduced by the flutes, opens the “Andantino” movement. For the most part, the piano performs an accompanimental function, as this lilting theme is sounded by the cello and oboe. However, in the central “Prestisssimo”, based on the French tune “Il faut s’amuser et rire” (It’s all fun and laughter), a very demanding piano part is reinstated, before a brief cadenza returns us to the opening dance.

The concluding “Allegro” opens with another Ukrainian folk-song, broadly contrasted by an expansive romantic theme, first sounded in the strings. Russian and French influences notwithstanding, it becomes immediately apparent that Tchaikovsky’s Ukrainian musical roots creatively shaped this venerable warhorse of the concerto repertory.

Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767): From Hero to Zero

by Georg Predota, Interlude

It really is too bad that Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767) did not have a large social network following! Throughout his long and industrious career, he wrote well over 3000 works. It’s no surprise that 18th-century critics unanimously considered him among the best composers of his time. Leading theorists held up his works as compositional models, and his fame extended to Holland, Switzerland, Belgium, France, Italy, England, Spain, Norway, Denmark and the Baltic lands. Yet by the early years of the 19th century, appreciation of Telemann’s music was in rapid decline. The main criticism turned out to be rather tongue in cheek. “In general,” a music historian wrote, “Telemann would have been greater had it not been so easy for him to write so unspeakably much. Polygraphs seldom produce masterpieces.” And once his music was compared according to the very different aesthetic standards of J. S. Bach, Telemann was judged to be merely “fashionable.” Telemann’s music has gradually made a comeback beginning in the 1980s, so let’s continue to give two thumbs up for one of the most famous and versatile composers of his time!

During his career as a composer of church music Telemann wrote at least 1700 cantatas! Always imaginative in his handling of vocal and instrumental color, Telemann’s transparent counterpoint was highly valued by his contemporaries. As you might well imagine, his cantata settings embrace a wide range of styles, forms and employment of instrumental forces. Significantly, a substantial number of Telemann’s sacred cantatas were not exclusively tied to performances in sacred venues, but could also be used for domestic devotions. In the foreword to the second collection of the Harmonischer Gottes-Dienst (Harmonic Service to the Lord) of 1731 he writes, “Two instruments of dissimilar kinds are so arranged that one person of his own can make us of the clavier without the addition of another instrument.”

Telemann is known to have composed approximately 125 orchestral suites, 125 concertos, several dozen other orchestral works and sonatas in five to seven parts, nearly 40 quartets, 130 trios, 87 solos, 80 works for one to four instruments without bass and roughly 250 pieces for keyboard. Now that’s what I call a life’s work! For the most part Telemann wrote his instrumental works for small performing forces, making them appropriate for domestic use. Historically significant, Telemann popularized the French-style orchestral suite in Germany paving the way for the works of J. S. Bach and others. Telemann was a kind and gentle man capable of witty humor, so entire works or individual movements have amusing programmatic titles. The Suite Burlesque de Quixotte includes the famous attack on the windmills, and the Suite La Bourse offers a musical account of the Parisian stock market crash of 1720! 

In his autobiography of 1718, Telemann proudly declared, “I am no great lover of the concerto.” Yet his 125 efforts in this genre do represent the history of the concerto in Germany during the first half of the 18th century. Early works resemble contemporary works by Torelli and Albinoni, but gradually Telemann introduced the highly popular ritornello structure used by Vivaldi. Blending the Italian concerto with French stylistic elements produced works that focused on innovations in scoring, style and structure. And did I mention rather unusual instrumental combinations? The point is, Telemann absolutely hated empty displays of virtuosity, instead insisting that every note or unusual instrument serve the musical purpose of the work.

Although only 29 operas are extant today, Telemann claimed to have written more than 50 works over a period of three decades. While we may certainly mourn the permanent loss of so many works, historians have rightfully suggested, “Telemann was the most important composer of German-language opera in the first half of the 18th century.” And as you might already have guessed, he had a special gift for writing comic operas. The comic intermezzo Die Ungleiche Heirat zwischen Vespetta und Pimpinone oder Das herrschsüchtige Kammer Mägdchen “The Unequal Marriage Between Vespetta and Pimpinone or The Domineering Chambermaid” was first performed between acts of Handel’s Tamerlano in 1725. It recounts the timeless story of a young chambermaid who marries her old but rich employer, and in due course completely dominates the relationship. And if you have read my previous article “The Maid as Mistress”, you already know that the subject matter was a mirror of Telemann’s own marital situation. You can’t but admire a man who laughs at his own misfortune!

10 of the greatest opera overtures of all time

10 of the best opera overtures. Picture: Getty / Alamy

By Siena Linton & Kyle Macdonald, ClassicFM

 

From the Marriage of Figaro to Carmen, here are ten of the most memorable musical beginnings to operas.

The lights in the theatre dim and a hush falls over the buzzing excitement of the audience, as the orchestra strikes up the first note.

A good opera overture sets the scene for the drama that’s about to unfurl, bringing the audience into the narrative world and suspending their reality for the next few hours.

A great opera overture does not only that, but stands tall as a piece of music in its own right, performed in concert repertoire by orchestras around the world.

Whether you’re just starting to dip your toe into the wonderful world of opera or have a lifetime membership at Glyndebourne, here are 10 of the absolute best opera overtures of all time.

1. Verdi – The Force of Destiny

   With a main theme made famous by the “Reassuringly expensive” Stella Artois TV campaign of the 1990s, this operatic opener is indeed “Reassuringly Verdi” with the Italian composer’s customary mix of exquisite melody and thundering full-orchestra outbursts.

   The opera’s iconic theme is a sinister melody known as the fate motif. It’s a powerful, almost cinematic tune. It’s heard first in this overture and then throughout the coming opera, which explores a journey of tragedy, love and loss – with some accidental murders and curses thrown in, because it’s, you know, a Verdi opera.

   
   

2. Mozart – The Magic Flute

   At the age of 28, Mozart joined the Masonic order, a secretive organisation with a rich set of rituals and symbols that many scholars believe are evident in Mozart’s later works, The Magic Flute being one of them. The number three holds significance within Freemasonry, and the overture to this opera alone has several allusions.

   Right from the start, three chords ring out, dominated by a chorus of three trombones. The overture is even in E flat major, which has three flats in its key signature. After its stately opening, a merry flurry of strings and countermelodies follow, becoming increasingly forceful with the addition of the rest of the orchestra. All in all, the perfect set up for an opera full of evil sorcerers, sprightly bird catchers, and enchanted instruments.

3. Rossini – William Tell

   The overture that broke the mould, Rossini’s William Tell Overture escaped the clutches of the classical world and flew into the mainstream. It appeared as the theme tune for The Lone Ranger and in the soundtracks for A Clockwork Orange and The Princess Diaries, as well as influencing Rossini’s fellow classical composers, Strauss I and Shostakovich.

   Comprising four parts, the flurrying finale is the section that is best known today, often used to depict galloping horses (despite the fact that not a single horse is featured in the opera itself).

   
   

4. Dame Ethel Smyth – The Wreckers

   After five years touring Europe trying to persuade theatre impresarios to stage it, Smyth’s best-known opera The Wreckers finally received its premiere in Leipzig in 1906. Despite all her efforts, it wasn’t until the 21st century that The Wreckers was recognised for its brilliance and began to be performed more often, even taking the prime spot as the opening night for Glyndebourne in 2022, the UK’s oldest annual opera festival.

   Set in a Cornish fishing village, the overture does exactly what the libretto says on the tin. Smyth’s masterful orchestration makes full use of all the sounds of the orchestra (complete with organ!) to take the audience on a cliffside walk along the Cornish coast, breathing in the fresh sea air and gazing at the picturesque greenery before an undercurrent drags you under into a tempestuous swirl of notes and stormy timbres.

   
   

5. Beethoven – Fidelio

   Like so much Beethoven, the overture to his only opera didn’t have a straightforward compositional process. Beethoven agonised over the overture to it, composing three versions (titled Leonore Overtures, after the opera’s heroine). Then, with a name change, the breakthrough happened and we got the ‘Fidelio’ Overture.

   Beethoven’s opera is a story of righteousness, pain, imprisonment and redemption. The overture, in full Beethoven drama, gives us the darkness and light that runs throughout the opera.

6. Bizet – Carmen

   Under the scorching Spanish sun, a charming seductress uses her beguiling looks and voice to lure a naïve soldier from his post and his girlfriend. The fiery protagonist and namesake of the opera, Carmen’s motif is the last of three themes heard in Bizet’s overture.

   The first is an almost circus-like march that announces the entry of the bullfighters to the arena, followed by the main refrain from the ‘Toreador Song’ which is one of the two most popular and easily recognisable themes from the opera, alongside the ‘Habañera’. The overture ends with the Carmen motif, a sultry cello melody over tremolo strings that perfectly encapsulate her electrifying and unnerving presence.

   
   

7. Mozart – Don Giovanni

   Legend has it, Mozart left it right down to the wire to compose the overture to his opera Don Giovanni. On the eve of the premiere, Wolfgang returned to his room after drinking with friends and got straight to work, slaving over his manuscript until the early hours. Thankfully for us, and for Mozart too, the piece that emerged from his alcohol-imbued pen nib that evening is nothing short of a masterpiece, the perfect fit for an opera that includes love, heartbreak, comic relief, a statue that comes to life, and a damnation to hell.

   The overture is the perfect set-up to the ensuing drama, full of sinister strings, tolling timpani beats, and unnervingly rapid changes in dynamic, before a typically triumphant Mozartian fanfare.

8. Wagner – Tannhäuser

   A tale of lust, love and loss, Wagner’s Tannhäuser is a mighty work, chock-full of lush Romantic harmonies, ingenious orchestration, and leitmotifs galore. Not that you’d expect any less from the composer who gave us the Ring cycle.

   The overture opens with the ‘Pilgrim’s Chorus’, a slow and repentant theme played by wind and brass before being picked up by the strings, too. The strings take up a lilting countermelody to the trombones’ fanfare, lapsing into a yearning melody that represents the goddess Venus and her mystical domain.

9. Rossini – The Barber of Seville

   Gioachino Rossini was known for his nifty nib, and managed to write all the music to the entire opera The Barber of Seville in just three weeks. Well, almost. Having left the overture to the last minute, Rossini decided instead to recycle one he’d used for two previous operas. Laziness or resourceful genius? We’ll let you decide.

   Despite not bearing any relation whatsoever to the music in the rest of the opera, the Overture to The Barber of Seville is a brilliant piece of music in its own right. With a catchy main them over a softly chugging bass line, it’s a concert favourite to this day, made famous also by the 1950 Rabbit of Seville sketch by Looney Tunes, featuring Bugs Bunny.

   
   

10. Mozart – The Marriage of Figaro

    Somewhat unsurprisingly, one of the greatest operas ever written also gave us one of the greatest overtures ever written. Mozart’s comic masterpiece tells the story of a rich Count with a wandering eye, who attempts to seduce the Countess’s maid, Susanna, ahead of her wedding day, only to be taught a hard-learned lesson in fidelity by Susanna, in league with the Countess.

    While it doesn’t contain any of the themes of the opera that follows, the Overture to The Marriage of Figaro sets the scene perfectly for the playfully chaotic drama that unfurls throughout. A flurry of string and bassoon quavers are followed by a sighing woodwind motif that quickly leads into a full force fanfare, complete with timpani and brass.

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

By  Georg Predota, Interlude 

Mykola Lysenko

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

Mykola Lysenko, 1869

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

Protect our beloved Ukraine,
Bless her with freedom and light
Of your holy rays.

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

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

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

Mykola Lysenko among the Ukrainian civic leaders in Kharkiv

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

Mykola Lysenko: Dumka-Shooma, Op. 18 (Natalya Pasichnyk, piano)

Lysenko’s music score

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

Mykola Lysenko: Elegy in Memory of Shevchenko (Solomia Soroka, violin; Arthur Greene, piano)

Mykola Lysenko with teachers of Lysenko Music and Drama School

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

Mykola Lysenko, 1900s

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

Grave of Mykola Lysenko

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

Mykola Lysenko monument

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