Haydn: Concerto in D Major for Cello and Orchestra, Hob. VII;2b

Concerto in D Major for Cello and Orchestra, Hob. VII;2b

Franz Josef Haydn
(1732-1809)

Before the mid-1780s Josef Haydn produced a sizeable number of operas and concerti for a variety of solo instruments. But with Mozart’s move to Vienna in 1781, and the appearance of his remarkable stage works and concerti, Haydn increasingly confined his creative activity to a chamber music, symphonies, and keyboard works, as if to avoid competing with his younger colleague. (A letter written by Haydn in response to a request for a new opera in the 1780s would seem to point to that possibility.) In the case of Haydn’s four best-known concerti, only the brilliant Trumpet Concerto is a late work---significantly, composed five years after Mozart’s death. Of a pair of cello concerti, the earlier C Major Cello Concerto (written around 1762) only came to light in the 1960’s, while the D major Concerto (written in 1783) has long been favoured by cellists. In 1784 there appeared the D Major Piano Concerto, which remains on the margin of the concert repertoire, although often more favoured by student performers than seasoned professionals.

Oddly, while many works attributed to Haydn have been found to be spurious, the D Major Concerto, now conclusively declared to be the work of Haydn, was for a long time thought to be the work of a cellist friend of Haydn, Anton Kraft. While there are a handful of cello concertos written before those of Haydn (notably by Carl Philipp Emannuel Bach and Boccherini), this ingratiating work stands as perhaps the earliest work of outstanding quality to earn a secure place in the rather limited repertoire of works for cello and orchestra.

Written about the time when Haydn was emerging from a period of heavy involvement in operatic composition, the D Major Concerto (unlike the fiery and dramatic earlier C Major work) is a relaxed, often reflective composition, one emphasizing the lyrical character of the solo cello---an instrument which, until Haydn, had been largely ignored as solo instrument..

This expansive lyrical mood is especially noteworthy in the opening allegro moderato, at fourteen minutes’ duration one of Haydn’s most extended first movements. This leisurely unfolding of thematic elements is shaped within the traditional sonataform pattern, but with little of the ceremonial flourishes common to concertos of the period. Indeed, the two principle themes are both marked by a gentle cantabile character, presenting the composer with the challenge of creating an extended musical structure with little of the drama and element of surprise so notable in his symphonies. But any risk of melodic blandness is avoided through Haydn’s usual harmonic originality, seen in the central development section, where the music becomes solidly anchored in B Minor, as if establishing a tonality to counter the genial warms of the home key of D Major. The development, as well as some of the transitional passages linking the main thematic elements, provides the soloist with unexpected opportunities for brilliant passage-work in the upper register of the instrument, although never at the expense of the over-all tone of gentle lyricism which colours the entire work.

The remaining movements of the concerto are as compressed as the first is spacious. The A Major adagio movement is a tender aria for cello, bringing out the special coloration of the instrument’s “mezzo-soprano” register. With the orchestra briefly shifting into A Minor, a darkening of tone leads the cello to a meditative moment in the unexpected stillness of C Major, soon returning to the warmth of A Major to conclude the movement.

The allegro finale is a vivacious rondo with a carefree tune rather reminiscent of the English folksong, “Here we go gathering nuts in May.” Virtuoso display of brilliant exuberance comes to the fore for the first time in the concerto, the central D Minor episode encouraging a hearty outburst of temperament on the part of the soloist . But the work’s mood of good humour and lyrical expressivity remains uppermost, as the work comes to a spirited conclusion.

Haydn Symphony No. 104 in D Major, “London”

Symphony No. 104 in D Major, “London”

Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809)

Like most musicians of his day, Josef Haydn found employment as a “court composer” in a number of aristocratic households until he reached his sixties. For nearly thirty years his patron was the celebrated Prince Nicolaus Esterhazy, whose elegant palace in the middle of the Hungarian farm country was to be the composer’s home, and scene of his artistic development. In a sense it was also his place of aristic isolation, from which he could escape only for brief visits to Vienna where the prince’s entourage spent an annual period of residence in the imperial capital. Unlike Mozart, who from early childhood was to visit most of the centers of Europe, Haydn never had the freedom to travel, being constantly under pressure to preside over a court orchestra and opera company, as well as to compose everything from dance music to chamber music, orchestral works, stage works and religious music. After nearly thirty years’ service at the palace of Esterhaza, the death of Prince Nicolaus finally made it possible for Haydn to accept offers to travel. An ambitious musician, Johann Peter Salomon (German by birth, now resident in London), learned of the death of Haydn’s patron, and determined to swoop down upon the composer and bring him to London for a series of public concerts. Salomon met Haydn in Vienna, greeting him with the famous words, “I am Salomon of London, and have come to fetch you. Tomorrow we will arrange an accord.” The two men hit it off immediately, and in December, 1790 Haydn set out for London, saying goodbye to Mozart, who feared for the older man’s stamina, warning him against such a dangerous undertaking. (Ironically, Mozart himself would die within a year, the two friends never again seeing each other.) Haydn spent two long periods in England, where he met the cream of society, from royalty to the artistic celebrities of the day. He was awarded an honorary degree at Oxford (responding with his “Oxford” Symphony, No. 92), and the unhappily married composer even had a late-life romance with a German widow living in London, as well. Above all, a dozen symphonies were composed expressly for London, which were to be the summing up of a lifetime of creative endeavour. The last of these was No. 104, nicknamed “London” ever since its premiere on a glittering concert on May 4^th, 1795. Bearing an inscription on the manuscript in English, “the 12^th which I have composed in England, ” this was to be Haydn’s last symphony. The composer himself stated that he could do no better.

The symphony, like many others by Haydn, opens with a slow introduction, a grand, serene gateway to the lively music which follows. The main body of the first movement leads off with a gentle, murmuring melody heard softly in the strings, followed by brilliant ruffles and flourishes with trumpets and drums, the strings in characteristic bustling display. The secondary theme, at first identical with the first, becomes more agitated, adding a closing theme with a graceful, lilting character. The development focuses upon a detail all but overlooked at its initial appearance: a pattern featuring four repeated notes taken from the very first bars of the first subject. Entirely absorbed with this tiny detail, the music seems to “germinate” into a richly textured, tightly argued musical discussion, reaching a climactic point before a pause which ushers in the recapitulation. Among the unexpected twists in rounding out the movement is a sudden passage for winds alone, followed by a grand and emphatic coda to form a solid conclusion.

The slow movement is a spacious three-part structure in G Major, with a meditative opening section wholly given over to the strings, save for a memorable moment when a lone bassoon adds its plaintive tones an octave below the violins. A tiny transitional passage (in the minor) for winds alone leads to a startling chance of mood, shifting to D Minor, with the full orchestra playing fortissimo, as turbulent as the opening had been tranquil. There is a tiny recollection of the opening melody, swept aside by a renewed stormy section. Quieting down, the opening section returns, this time with added colour from the woodwinds, and a further dramatic, rhythmic outburst by full orchestra. An extended passage with triplet figuration reaches an eerie standstill in the remote region of D-flat major. Once again a short woodwind phrase leads the music back to the home key, with an extended energetic coda, relaxing into an atmosphere of quiet benediction.

The minuet movement is perhaps the composer’s finest, with a peasant heartiness (a reminder of his long years living in the Hungarian heartland), with pounding accents and swinging rhythmic twists. The trio steps directly into a quietly refreshing (and unexpected) B-flat major, with a smoothly unwinding melodic line in the violins (assisted by solo oboe and bassoon from time to time) over a soft pizzicato background. As is so often Haydn’s practice in this symphony, the winds take the lead in bringing us back to a robust reprise of the minuet.

The concluding Spiritoso is Haydn’s most thoroughly “worked-out” finale, yet at the same time as engaging and entertaining as any other he had written. Over a a bagpipe-like “drone, ” an opening tune of disarming, low-key character is heard, which has sometimes been likened to an English folktune,

“Hot-crossed buns.” It quickly swells in energy and volume, moving into a second subject which, as in the first movement, is the same as the first, here heard in the winds. But an important “counter melody” is heard in the violins, and the music becomes shot through with detail and touches of instrumental colour, with swirling figures in the strings which to some ears are reminiscent of moments in the finale of another D Major Symphony---the Second Symphony of Brahms. A quiet, unexpected touch is the entry of a subsidiary part of this “second subject, ” in the form of a hushed passage for winds (plus a bassoonXXX), which moves into a short, brusque closing theme to round out the exposition of the movement. The development is one of Haydn’s biggest, and most intricately constructed, with a meshing together of the main melodic and rhythmic motives in a brilliant display of orchestra ingenuity. The hushed “subsidiary” theme reappears, this time extended, and in a delightfully unpredictable manner glides into the recapitulation. The main elements return as before, but lead directly into a full-scale coda, virtually a second “development” (as would later be the practice with Beethoven), bringing the symphony to an exultant conclusion.

NCO Concert

Haydn Symphony No. 87 in A Major

Symphony No. 87 in A Major

Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809)

The three great figures of the Classical Age, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, although often referred to as “Viennese” composers, were all born elsewhere, later making their careers in the capital of the Habsburg Empire. Although Josef Haydn came to Vienna as a child, remaining there until his late twenties, the great bulk of his creative work actually took place far from Vienna, as court composer to the powerful Esterhazy princes in their splendid palace in the Hungarian hinterland. Unlike Mozart, Haydn would never travel until late in life, living a hectic existence as composer, conductor and over-all impresario for the Esterhazy family, with annual visits to Vienna when the princes of the realm were expected to be in attendance at the imperial court. As we know from a remarkably perceptive observation made by Haydn himself, by living in fairly isolated circumstances, the composer was forced to become original. As for gaining a wider audience, despite a stipulation in his contract that his works were to remain the property of the prince, Haydn’s music began to appear abroad, often in pirated, inaccurate copies. Soon the composer was given permission to accept commissions, and began to write works for audiences as far away as Spain and France. Paris was perhaps the most glittering musical center after Vienna, and not surprisingly it was there that Haydn’s reputation began to flourish. In 1784 came an invitation from Paris to compose a set of symphonies for an organisation in Paris, the so-called “Concert de la Loge Olympique.” This was a rather curious group of high-born music lovers (and Freemasons), who sponsored public concerts performed by a large orchestra, all members being masons, appearing before the public dressed in elegant sky-blue dress coats with lace ruffles, sporting swords! The Masonic connection may have appealed to Haydn, who himself (like Mozart) had recently become a member of the Freemasons during a period of toleration which was encouraged by the Austria Emperor Josef II, who also was a member. After a period in which his activities had been concentrated upon operatic composition, Haydn was beginning to give more attention to chamber music and orchestral music, so the time was ripe for a rich harvest of strikingly imaginative symphonies. He was in his early fifties, and ready to move into the final phase of his career, which would culminate in the great works written for London. The six “Paris Symphonies” (Nos. 82-87), although less familiar to modern audiences, are in no way inferior to the twelve “London” symphonies which followed a few years later. Three of them bear nicknames, the “Bear” (No. 82), the “Hen” (No. 83) and “The Queen” (No. 85, said to be a favourite of Austrian-born Marie Antoinette.) (One wonders whether it would be a good idea to set up a commission to give nicknames to many of the other Haydn symphonies, and thus bring about more frequent performances! )

Scored for an orchestra of one flute, pairs of oboes, horns, bassoons and strings, Symphony No. 87 dispenses with the sort of stately slow introduction often featured in Haydn’s work, jumping into action with a springy principal subject heard against a bounding rhythmic accompaniment. There is little in the way of a fully-defined secondary subject, instead a subdued transition leads to music which rounds out the exposition, quite as energetic and high-spirited as the opening. The development makes much use of the repeated-note figure (or “drum bass”) which was often a device for musical padding in hands of lesser composers, but here used to lead the music into wonderful contrasts of texture and harmony, before prancing home in a recapitulation which brings back the opening material very much as before.

The Adagio is one of those hymn-like slow movements which Haydn made very much his own. Moving through a lyrical passage with solo oboe against a pattering background of sextuplets in the strings, a second subject appears, which is actually a variant of the first, with the sextuplets remaining in accompaniment. The main theme continues to be unfolded in a brief development given over mostly to the strings, taking on increasing harmonic poignancy and contrasts of texture before recapitulating, the main theme in the oboe this time, decorated by the flute. The sextuplets remain a constant presence, Haydn giving ever more attention to the winds, who wind up the movement in a nearly cadenza-like dialogue between flute and oboe, the bassoon coming in for a final comment before the movement glides to a close.

Unlike many of the “outdoorsy” minuets to be found in Haydn (reflecting his rural origins), this minuet is strictly an in-door affair, with an engaging formal character, given a piquant touch with the snapping “acciaccatura” figure which begins the main melody. The trio is a gracious, contrasting section, featuring a rather demure oboe solo heard again a spare string background

The finale, Vivace, is both lively and rather relaxed, with a cheerful main theme used for both the first and second subjects. The development takes an unexpectedly serious turn, becoming quite intense in mood, with an elaborate contrapuntal texture. The recapitulation begins to suggest that the basic character of this music, and its unflagging rhythmic vitality might seem to form a link with the spirit of the first movement, thus bringing everything around full circle.

NCO concert