The Four Seasons: Four Concerti for Violin, Strings and Continuo, Op. 8, Nos. 1-4
Antonio Vivaldi
(1678-1741)
Any music lover shopping for recordings of Baroque music, seeing the display bins AWASH with the works of Antonio Vivaldi, would probably be amazed to learn that before the 1950s hardly any of the Venetian master’s works were printed or performed---much less recorded! A reference to the 1950s is significant, because if any factor helps to explain the startling revival of interest in Vivaldi’s music, it may well be the invention of the long-playing record. (That has also been the case with a surprising number of major composers who only recently have become central to the repertoire---Berlioz , Bruckner and Mahler are remarkable instances. Some other figures remained fairly marginal to the concert world until the late 20th century, including Handel, Haydn, Schubert and Wolf. Others were virtually unknown, for example Claudio Monteverdi . who was hardly ever heard before Nadia Boulanger’s pioneering recording of 1937.)
The eclipse of Antonio Vivaldi’s vast body of works is quite inexplicable. Although it is often claimed that J. S. Bach’s music had disappeared following his death, in fact a number of important musicians championed his compositions even before the so-called “Bach Revival” in the 19th century. But Vivaldi, who, unlike Bach, attained international fame in his lifetime, fell into an obscurity which only began to disperse in the early 20th century. One element in a reawakening of interest in Vivaldi was actually a by-product of Bach scholarship: the discovery of the strong influence of Vivaldi upon J. S. Bach, which prompted some specialists in Baroque music to trace that influence back to its source.
Antonio Vivaldi, whose father was a professional musician, was born in Venice, received early training as a violinist, and in his teens began studies for the priesthood. He was ordained at the age of 25, but while nominally a clergyman all his life, never said mass, rather devoting himself to a career as a violinist and composer. In 1703 he was appointed MAESTRO DI VIOLINO at the Pio Ospedale della Pieta in Venice, a convent school for orphaned and abandoned girls. He was in charge of instruction in string instruments, and directed the school orchestra, for which he composed a great deal of his earlier music. This orchestra soon became a great tourist attraction in Venice. Guidebooks of the day urged visitors to attend concerts presented by the school orchestra, to marvel at the sight of an orchestra composed of teen-aged girls dressed in miniature nun’s habits, playing at a remarkable level of professionalism. (Those who know the Bay Area Women’s Orchestra, or are old enough to remember Phil Spitalny’s “All-Girl Orchestra,” may be surprised to learn that indeed nothing is new under the sun!) Not surprisingly for a native of Venice, Vivaldi moved on to a successful career composing operas: at least 46 are known by title, although many have been lost. In everything he did there was great abundance, vivacity of tone, brilliant effects, and a pronounced gift for making money----and wasting it. (Vivaldi was to die penniless while visiting Vienna in 1741, engaged in yet another self-promotion scheme.) In an output of some 1000 compositions there are about 500 concerti, as well as a great quantity of church music, oratorios, cantatas, and sonatas of every description. Best known are the concerti, including about 250 for solo violin, dozens
for cello, bassoon, flute, oboe, and others composed for virtually every instrument this side of comb-and-waxed-paper!
To this day the world thinks of Vivaldi mostly in terms of his concertos----symbolized by the unfair, if delicious comment that “Vivaldi composed four concertos six hundred times.” The best reply to such a jibe is to point to the several dozen Vivaldi concerti which J. S. Bach saw fit to arrange for keyboard instruments, as well as his glittering transcription for four harpsichords and orchestra of Vivaldi’s Concerto for 4 violins, Op. 3, No. 11.
Nothing comes close to the popularity which has been won by “The Four Seasons”: Vivaldi’s
Op. 8, Nos. 1-4. The writer of these notes can remember when virtually the only available recording of the work was a galumphing performance by John Corigliano and the New York Philharmonic. At last count Vivaldi fanciers now have a choice of ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN DIFFERENT RECORDINGS!!!! This is cause for sour grapes on the part of some high-minded music lovers. In London, for example, where for generations the cash-cow perennial in the concert business has been the 1812 Overture (“with cannon and mortar effects”), the “Seasons” has joined its company as a lure for audiences of tourists and families with children. But to anyone with an open mind a good performance of the Seasons cannot but explain this popularity.
Indeed, the composition was popular from the start. While the “Seasons” was a recurring theme in 17th century Italian and French ballets and stage spectacles, Vivaldi was probably the first composer to deal with the subject in a purely instrumental terms. Part of the appeal of his work lies in its suggestive “program” elements (which are spelled out in sonnets which accompany each concerto in turn), but even more in the brilliance and energy so characteristic of all of the composer’s best work. A success when first performed in 1725, the celebrated CONCERTS SPIRITUELS introduced the set of concertos to Paris audiences in 1728, becoming a favourite in France throughout the 18th century. There is even a slender thread connecting Vivaldi’s work with the world of Josef Haydn, for the entire Op. 8 collection of 12 concerti (which include the Four Seasons) was dedicated to Count Morzin, of the family who would employ Haydn in the early stage of his career.
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While conforming to most of the conventional structural patterns of the day, these compositions are surprisingly “programmatic” in character, illustrative of the imagery and general tone expressed in the “Sonetti Dimostrativi” (“Demonstrative Sonnets”), which were printed at the head of each concerto in turn, poems possibly penned by Vivaldi himself. These not only lay out a variety of pictorial elements which are depicted in the music, but are even set out line by line in the printed score at appropriate points.
Concerto No. 1 in E Major, “Spring.” Following the confident, rhythmically sturdy opening RITORNELLO, the solo violin evokes the sound of singing birds, joined in the effort by two solo violins from the orchestra. Soloist and orchestra together portray the murmuring streams and gentle breezes in pulsing repeated pairs of notes, followed by a sudden brief shower (sweeping scale patterns, rapid, excited triplets.) Following the poem, things quiet down, the birds sing as before, and a concluding phrase from the RITORNELLO rounds out the movement. The second movement (marked LARGO, E PIANISSIMO SEMPRE) paints a charming scene in which the rustling of the leaves is heard (in the murmuring rhythmic figure in the violins), the goatherd sleeps (solo violin heard in a lyrical of tender simplicity), with his faithful dog nearby (barking sounds in the violas, marked “always loud and rasping”!) The lively finale is marked “Danza pastorale” – a shepherd’s dance. The solo episodes are more relaxed than dramatic, the overall tone festive and good-natured.
Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, “Summer.” This most original and theatrical of the concerti finds Vivaldi making the most of opportunities for virtuoso writing for soloist and orchestra alike, in a vivid pictorial display inspired by the dramatic elements set out in the poem. The main elements of the first movement follow a quite eccentric structural plan: A – B – A – C – D – A – E – B. While “A” might be considered a conventional RITORNELLO, it is quite unlike almost any other one to be found: a quiet, hesitant introductory passage intended to portray the sluggish atmosphere of the summer heat. In “B” the voice of the cuckoo is heard (after a fashion), the typical “cuckoo” call imbedded in bustling solo violin passagework. After a bit of “A” is heard again, “C” brings in the song of the turtledove and the goldfinch, the orchestra (in soft rapid triplets) describing the gentle southern breezes. This is suddenly swept aside by the violent blasts of the north wind (“D”) in a startling, frenzied outburst in the orchestra. A fragment of “A” cools things down, and in the “E” episode the shepherd (a sensitive soul) sheds tears of fear and anxiety. The movement’s conclusion (a return of the “B” section), While not actually dictated by the poem, Vivaldi follows his dramatic instincts to swing the movement to a conclusion in a bold and decisive manner. The slow movement portrays the frightened shepherd (heard in sweet but fearful lyrical phrases in the solo violin) wracked with fear in the presence of blasts of thunder and flashing lightning (heard in the orchestra.) The finale gives Vivaldi a glorious excuse go even one better in portraying Mother Nature in full tempestuous majesty. While the soloist has moments to be heard above the fray, the movement is notable as a splendid early example of orchestral virtuosity, creating a sense of excitement which can stand comparison with later storm in Beethoven, Berlioz and Richard Strauss.
Concerto No. 3 in F Major, “Autumn.” The opening movement is the musical equivalent of a scene by Breughel, capturing the mood of sturdy peasant merry-making at harvest time, with dancing, drinking to excess and ultimate falling into slumber. The episodes for solo violin illustrate a gradual transition from boisterous enjoyment to inevitable fatigue and exhaustion. The slow movement is an unexpectedly poetic piece of tone-painting, illustrating the “agreeableness of sweet sleep” described in the poem: sleep following upon the enjoyable excesses of drink. The rowdy pleasures of the chase set the tone for the finale, evocative of the countryside, the huntsmen, dogs, guns and cruel high spirits. The soloist expresses the energy and exhilaration of the riders, as well as the inevitable exhaustion and death of the quarry.
Concerto No. 4 in F Minor, “Winter” The first movement, marked ALLEGRO NON MOLTO (i. e., quick, but not much), opens with a memorable tonal evocation of the winter cold…. The “wild winds” are heard in the solo violin, while in the orchestra can be heard “stamping frozen feet.” The solo episodes express the physical discomforts of cold and wind, even including the portrayal of chattering of teeth at one point. The LARGO slow movement is a moment of warmth and shelter at a welcoming fireside, captured in an unbroken lyrical outpouring in the solo violin against the background of ticking PIZZICATO violins and murmuring lower strings. (Some ears may detect a delightful “pre-echo” of “April Showers,” quite appropriate in these frosty circumstances!) The final movement opens with descriptions of walking on icy ground. From a hushed, tentative beginning, Vivaldi is inspired by the sonnet’s reference to winds “loosed in battle” to press on to a forceful, emphatic conclusion. As the poem say, “such is winter, these are joys it brings.”
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