Peter Donohoe plays Shostakovich:Themes and variations

13 March 2018: Stratford ArtsHouse
14 March 2018: Town Hall, Birmingham

• Sergei Prokofiev – Symphony no1 ‘Classical’ in D major, op25
• Dmitri Shostakovich – Piano Concerto no2 in F major, op102
• Franz Schubert – Symphony no3 in D major, D200

In the visual arts, according to the Tate, “Neoclassicism was a particularly pure form of classicism that emerged from about 1750”; whilst the original ‘classicism’ was that which “made reference to ancient Greek or Roman style”. Confusingly, though, ‘classical’ music (see The Oxford Dictionary of Music, for example) is generally labelled as materializing around the same time (1750) – following the Baroque, and preceding the Romantic; “covering the development of the symphony and concerto” – with ‘neoclassical’ music then being produced between 1920 and 1950.

Settling on such precise dates is, of course, prone to spark dispute; and I, for one, would claim that Grieg’s spectacular Holberg Suite – from 1884; and performed by OOTS in November’s concert – is definitely neoclassical: although not yet, as such an outlier, part of any definite trend. Today’s first work – formally christened by its composer as ‘Classical’ – was also produced outside those dates (during 1916-1917): and yet surely sets the standard for all that followed. (Unlike Stravinsky, though, who would return to earlier melodies and musical models frequently throughout his life, Prokofiev described this symphony’s composition as merely a “passing phase”!)

Whilst we all know, albeit vaguely, what classical music sounds like (and therefore, by extrapolation, its neoclassical offspring, as well); and recognize it when we hear it; it is harder to say exactly what it is. As with last month’s programme, I shall resort to quoting Michael Kennedy – as his pithy summary is surely as good as it gets!

Music of an orderly nature, with qualities of clarity and balance, and emphasizing formal beauty rather than emotional expression (which is not to say that emotion is lacking); music generally regarded as having permanent rather than ephemeral value.

Fortunately for us, ending as it does with Schubert’s Third Symphony, this concert provides us with the opportunity to compare structurally similar works from both the classical and neoclassical eras, and therefore draw our own conclusions. That these astonishing compositions are both in the same brilliant key of D major may also be to our advantage (although neither one remains in that key for very long). How we categorize Shostakovich’s exuberant concerto, which separates them, I do not know. It is so startlingly original – and so unlike most of his previous, Stalin-shadowed output – that it probably belongs in a class all of its own!

Jennifer Pike plays Tchaikovsky:Themes and variations

12 March 2018: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres

• Sergei Prokofiev – Symphony no1 ‘Classical’ in D major, op25
• Franz Schubert – Symphony no3 in D major, D200
• Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky – Violin Concerto in D major, op35

Tonight’s concert begins and ends with bright, golden fireworks… – or yellow ones, at least: Russian composers Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908) and Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915) both agreeing (for once) that this was the characteristic colour, for them, of the key of D major. In his influential work of 1785, Ideas Towards an Aesthetic of Music, Christian Schubart (1739-1791) – summarizing the thoughts of many earlier musicians – described it as “The key of triumph, of Hallelujahs, of war-cries, of victory”; adding that “Thus, the inviting symphonies, the marches, holiday songs and heaven-rejoicing choruses are set in this key”. We are therefore in for an enjoyable evening of what philosopher (and composer) Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) called “gaiety or brilliance”: as not only do our wonderful first and last works start and finish in this flaxen key, but so does our enthralling central one!

Not that this means we are in for an evening of invariability: if anything, the music programmed tonight demonstrates just how spectacularly disparate orchestral ‘classical’ music can be. For example: a comparison of the two “inviting symphonies”, both fashioned to long-standing formal rules – particularly as regards structure – reveals many more differences than similarities. They both just happen to open and close with the same chord. (Although it then takes Prokofiev a mere eleven bars to change key completely: to the “innocent, simple, naïve” C major!) After all, the key which each revolves around, is only a starting-point: all it does is unlock the musical doorway through which we, and the players, ‘visit’ each composition.

As for Tchaikovsky’s miraculous work: the key of D major is a favourite one for violin concertos – think of Mozart’s second and fourth; of Beethoven’s, and of Brahms (also written in 1878); and even of Prokofiev’s first… – as the instrument’s open strings are particularly resonant in this key. (As, of course, are the orchestra’s! Indeed, the last chord we will hear tonight uses this characteristic to full effect: as the strings triple- or quadruple-stop – that is, play three, or all four strings, simultaneously – and, in this case, fortissimo…!)

You might think from the descriptors above that an evening packed full of what scholar Albert Lavignac (1846-1916) dubbed “joyful, brilliant, alert” D major might be too much of a good thing. I don’t believe it is; and I hope, at the end of the evening, as you call Jennifer back to the stage once more, that you won’t either!

Jennifer Pike plays Mozart:Themes and variations

16 May 2017: Forum Theatre, Malvern Theatres

• Michael Haydn – Symphony no25 ‘Mozart’s 37th’ in G major, MH334
• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Violin Concerto no3 ‘Strassburg’ in G major, K216
• Franz Schubert – Symphony no5 in B-flat major, D485

Three months before he composed the symphony which closes this concert, nineteen-year-old Franz Peter Schubert wrote in his diary: “O Mozart! immortal Mozart! what countless impressions of a brighter, better life hast thou stamped up our souls!” – and it comes as no surprise, therefore, that the ensuing work owes a major debt to his idol (particularly his 40th Symphony).

In some ways, all three of today’s works are Mozartian – either by attachment (or attribution), authorship, or afflation (or such divine inspiration as Schubert would perhaps claim). In fact, until 1907, Michael Haydn’s vibrant 25th, which opens proceedings, was believed to be Mozart’s 37th (K444) – although it is difficult to accept, upon hearing it, that anyone could have really considered it the sequel to the miraculous Linz Symphony (K425): written – in four days – in late 1783. Despite it being composed in the same year, it is more representative of a previous era: when young Wolfgang was still striving to find his own voice. Having said that, today’s violin concerto was composed eight years earlier – when Mozart, like Schubert, was only nineteen – and yet his distinct, rapidly-burgeoning genius really shines through.

There is little doubt that Mozart thought a great deal of the older composer; and they were indeed good friends – influence therefore flowing in both directions. So, when Mozart was commissioned to write his great Requiem, it is likely that he used Michael Haydn’s C minor mass (MH155) as a model. (Coincidentally, Haydn wrote forty-one symphonies – his last being composed one year after Mozart’s stupendous Jupiter Symphony.)

Sadly, we hear very little of the younger Haydn’s music nowadays. It is his big brother, Franz Joseph, we look to as Mozart’s mentor; and Mozart’s influence we hear propelling later composers. It is well-known that Tchaikovsky idolized him – his Rococo Variations the most direct tribute – and Ravel stated that he was similarly inspired when composing the Adagio assai of his G major piano concerto.

No-one else, though, has ever quite recaptured that melodic ease, or fleetness of composition (although Schubert comes exceeding close). As Ravel said of his Mozartian theme: “That flowing phrase! How I worked over it bar by bar! It nearly killed me!” However, Brahms expresses it best, in a letter to Clara Schumann: “But how happy is the man who, like Mozart…, arrives at a pub in the evening and writes new music. Creating is simply his life, but he does what he wants. What a man.”

Mozart, meet Joanna Lee!Themes and variations

14 February 2017: Stratford ArtsHouse
22 February 2017: Town Hall, Birmingham

• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Overture, ‘Bastien und Bastienne’, K50/46b
• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Sinfonia Concertante for Four Winds in E-flat major, K297b
• Joanna Lee – Blue Blaze – Dance Suite [world premiere]
• Joseph Haydn – Symphony no59 ‘Feuer’ in A major, Hob.I:59

I wonder how many potential tunes there are in the world – already written; or, as Elgar supposed, “in the air… all around us”? Given a set number of notes, there are obviously only, statistically, a finite number of sequences that can be developed. So, isn’t it truly amazing that, when performed – even if ‘recycled’ by other composers: either coincidentally, or in tribute – such melodies are not only recognizable (they strike a chord, if you will), but they also have the power to immediately lead you back to a single source?

For example: catching the opening theme of this concert, played out of context, many people in the audience would, I am sure, instantly call to mind Beethoven’s Eroica – although then wonder who had run off with those two monumental introductory thunderbolts (and why it was played in the wrong key and by the wrong instruments). Or maybe Wagner’s Das Rheingold…? (Although, there, as you might expect, its appearance is more lushly orchestrated.) This ‘fanfare’ – based on a major triad: thus readily playable on a natural (valveless) horn – also appears at the beginning of Brahms’ Second Symphony; and, according to George Grove (he of the musical dictionary), in his violin concerto, too – not to mention the Scherzo of Schubert’s ‘Great’ C major symphony; as well as Beethoven’s very own Hammerklavier sonata.

But hear it: and I’m pretty sure that it will be the latter’s Third Symphony that comes to mind; even though he was born two years after the overture – to singspiel, or comic opera, Bastien und Bastienne – was composed… by twelve-year-old Mozart: which is why all thoughts of Beethoven will quickly fade away. Even at this age, ‘Amadeus’ was displaying signature greatness.

By the way, the opera probably wasn’t performed publicly for another twenty-two years. But it is unlikely that Beethoven was present; or, if he was, that he would intentionally borrow something so pleasantly pastoral to signify ‘the heroic’.

Conceivably, the most amazing upshot, I think, is that this short tune serves both – indeed all – of its purposes extremely well. Because in none of the instances listed does it sound anything other than each composer’s own: perfectly pitched, perfectly scored. Maybe because, to paraphrase two other truly great musicians: “T’ain’t What You Write (It’s the Way That You Write It)”.