Welcome

This is a collection of program notes, lectures and other writings by Dr. Laurence R. Taylor (1937-2004). Most of them were written for the Princeton Symphony and Opera Festival of New Jersey but some were for the Newtown Chamber Orchestra and Greater Princeton Youth Orchestra as well as some recitals. I am trying to get these online as fast as possible. There will be some strange formatting. Whenever you see a phrase in ALL CAPS he meant italics. Somehow pressing that little i button was too much trouble :) I will edit them to make that change when time allows. Suggestions are also welcome. Also you will find that LRT used British orthography even though he lived most of his life in New Jersey. Those spellings will remain since in his words "[I have had a] Close lifelong with British musical life – with annual return visits to refresh the soul by rejoining British friends, and drinking in a wide range of musical life there."


You may reprint any of the materials posted here for no charge as long as credit is given in the printed material to Laurence R. Taylor. I'd be delighted to receive a copy too.

Gene De Lisa


Thursday, October 1, 1998

Beethoven: Triumphal March for Kuffner’s Drama, Tarpeja

Triumphal March for Kuffner’s Drama, Tarpeja

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Although the New Grove Dictionary of Music lists some fifteen marches by Beethoven, written for a great range of instrumental combinations (everything from mechanical clock to wind ensembles and full orchestra), there are perhaps only three march compositions which stand out in the catalogue of Beethoven’s works: a majestic march in Act I of FIDELIO, the “Turkish” episode in the finale of the Ninth Symphony (in every way a march), and that dear old chestnut, the March from the RUINS OF ATHENS. The other dozen or so examples of Beethoven as composer of marches mostly fall into the cracks in the vast sweep of his output----some music lovers may remember Beethoven as march-composer when recalling Paul Hindemith’s delightful Sinfonia Serena, where a Beethoven march for wind ensemble is absorbed into the fabric of a 20th century symphony in an unexpected and inventive manner.

Even the most dedicated Beethovenian may register a complete blank on hearing the title “Incidental Music to Tarpeja,” the source of work opening today’s concert. A young Austrian playwright, Christopher Kuffner, was well-known in the early years of the 19th century for his adaptations of the works of the Roman comic poet Plautus. Kuffner, who had studied music, and later became acquainted with Beethoven: Carl Czerny credits him with helping to shape the text of Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy, that curious anticipation of the choral finale of the Ninth Symphony. Kuffner’s drama, Tarpeja, a work set in the antique Roman at the time of the Sabines, was first performed at Vienna’s Hofburgtheater (the court theatre) on March 26, 1813. Two brief incidental numbers were composed by Beethoven, although whether they were heard on that occasion, or were added later is uncertain. The short march in C Major is the sort of “pot-boiler” to which Beethoven could bring unusual touches of invention which lift it beyond the humdrum level of most such occasional music.

The March opens with a fanfare-like tune featuring the dotted rhythms characteristic of Austrian marches from the time of Mozart through Schubert and Johann Strauss. At first played by the brass (softly), the strings join in, at first providing a pizzicato accompaniment, then taking the lead with a majestic statement for full orchestra. A middle section appears in the dominant key of G, with light triplet figuration in the strings against a background of repeated triplet chords in the winds. In a typically Beethovenian touch, a single unexpected note (G-sharp) rises to the surface, lending a piquant twist to what otherwise would be a rather bland display of ceremonial flourishes. The march rounds out its two minutes of splendor with the return of the initial march melody, the triplet figuration pressing the music to a bright, high-stepping conclusion.

The Later Works of Beethoven

The Later Works of Beethoven

For many years it has been common practice to speak of Ludwig van Beethoven’s career in terms of a rather tidy (and all-too convenient) division, like Omnia Gallia, into TRES PARTES. Up to a point this rather arbitrary carving up of an artistic lifetime can be useful, even revealing. But a checklist of dates and major compositions reveals the curious fact that the “early” and “middle” periods TOGETHER (1792-1812) occupy only a few more years than the “late period” (1812-1827) ! Thus a total of 8 symphonies, 11 string quartets, 26 piano sonatas, the various concertos and the only opera are crammed into as amazingly prolific and hectic two decades, set against a single symphony, 5 quartets, 6 sonatas and a gigantic setting of the mass which account for the composer’s output in the final decade and a half. The immediate response, of course, will be “Yes! And just CONSIDER those final works----mere bean-counting here in meaningless!” True enough. And an examination of Beethoven’s turbulent private life, and his health---to say nothing of a period of remarkable spiritual development as he went into middle age, can provide some clues to the very different nature of this final, “late period.” (Of course, had Beethoven been more attentive to matters of his health, there is every sign that the music composed in the mid-1820’s might have been looked upon as the onset of a “fourth period.”)

By no means was everything composed during Beethoven’s later phase of a quality associated with the last quartets and final symphony---the March for TARPEJA may be heartening evidence of Beethoven as a man of the world, quite capable of turning out an engaging trifle, earning a few gulden. (Anyone trotting around Vienna from one Beethovenhaus to the next might wonder if an occasional toe-tapper might have been useful, if only to cover some of those recurrent moving expenses!) But then, there are also some startling discoveries along the way to the very highest reaches of the last works, as is wonderfully illustrated by the remarkably original "Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage" Cantata, a work which reveals some unexpected links to the choral finale of the Ninth Symphony some years off in the future.