Opera Festival of New Jersey Lectures, 1999

Here are LRT's lectures for the 1999 season of the Opera Festival of New Jersey. They are MP3 files that for the time being are hosted at fileden.com.

1. Introduction
2. Mozart Don Giovanni
3. Puccini Madama Butterfly
4. Argento A Postcard from Morocco
   

Opera Festival of New Jersey Lectures, 2001

I'm attempting to share mp3 files of LRT's lectures delivered for the Opera Festival of New Jersey. They are hosted right now at fileden.com. Let me know if you have trouble.

These lectures were for the 2001 season.

1. Introduction
2. Gluck Orfed ed Eurydice
3. Mozart The Magic Flute
4. Puccini Turandot
5. Dallapiccola Il Prigioniero
6. Bartok Bluebeard's Castle
7. Conclusion

Mozart :Overture to The Magic Flute

Overture to The Magic Flute

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

In the last year of his life, contrary to popular myth, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was beginning to see a turnabout in his professional fortunes. True, he had been in ill health, burdened by debt and a falling-off of his popularity with fickle Viennese audiences. But by the spring of 1791 he was busy at work on two operatic projects at the same time: The Magic Flute, a German-language SINGSPIEL (an opera with spoken dialogue), and LA CLEMENZA DI TITO, a rather old-fashioned “serious” opera in Italian. While TITO was intended for a gala performance in Prague as part of the celebrations of the coronation of a new emperor, DIE ZAUBERFLOTE (“Magic Flute”) was written for more modest circumstances: performances in a small theatre in the suburbs of Viennese, before middle-class “family audiences.” While the Italian opera turned out to be a disappointment, the singspiel was an instant, long-running popular success---perhaps a sign of what might have been had Mozart lived.

Commissioned by a roustabout theatre-manager, one Emmanuel Schikaneder, who himself wrote the libretto (and even created the popular role of Papageno, the Bird-Catcher in the first performances), “The Magic Flute” was a confusing scramble of pseudo-Egyptian mythology (complete with references to Osiris and Isis), a boy-meets-girl story, plus a fascinating admixture of Masonic symbolism as well. (After years of prohibition by the Church, under the tolerant Emperor Joseph II the masons were permitted to exist, many of the most prominent artist and intellectuals of Vienna becoming members, including both Haydn and Mozart.)

The Magic Flute is Mozart’s most majestic overture: opening with a slow introduction featuring heavy, portentous chords (suggesting the Masonic element), leading to a full-scale ALLEGRO, filled with bustling fugal writing. Midway the music pauses, and three massive intonations in the brass and winds are heard, yet again a Masonic symbol. The whirling energy resumes, and the overture concludes in triumph.

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Mozart Symphony in C Major, K. 425, “Linz”

Symphony in C Major, K. 425, “Linz”

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

In the summer of 1783 Mozart, who had recently married his wife Constanze in the teeth of strong opposition from his father Leopold, set out on a trip from Vienna to return to his hometown, Salzburg, hoping to bring about reconciliation with his father. This proved unsuccessful, and a rather dejected Mozart returned to Vienna a few months later. En route he stopped in the Austrian city of Linz, arriving on October 30^th to a hearty welcome from a local dignitary, Count Thun. Cheered by this reception, and learning that there was to be a concert presented on November 4^th (less than a week away!), Mozart plunged into action and composed a new symphony by November 3^rd, which was warmly received in its first hearing the Following Day! Even for such a quick worker as Mozart, the creation of the “Linz” Symphony over a single weekend seems all but miraculous---most musicians would be hard-pressed to COPY the score in four days, much less Compose it!

The Linz” Symphony in many respects belongs in the company of the other great later Mozart symphonies (Nos. 38-41), although it has tended to lag far behind those works in popularity and frequency of performance.

Like the “Prague” Symphony (No. 38), and the E-flat (No. 39), this work begins with a slow introduction, in this case one echoing the “French” style, with its dotted rhythms and majestic manner. More intimately “Mozartian” are the touches of melting chromatic lyricism which steal into the the musical texture midway. The principal subject (as is the case with No. 39) is at first deceptively quiet, unobtrusive, only to burst out in a full-throated fanfare-like melody heard over a driving bassline, which moves into the dominant key. Thus the first subject merges seamlessly with the second, the latter taking on a clear identity only when it unexpectedly steps into E Minor (the relative minor of the dominant key), for an assertive passage which presses on, becoming a closing section of great brilliance and energy. A thread of unaccompanied melody in the violins heard at the end of the exposition quite unexpectedly becomes the focus for the rather brief development, which quickly moves into the recapitulation. This is quite regular, at first steering the “merge” with the second subject in the direction of F Major, only to quickly swing back to the proper home key of C Major. The E Minor section returns in A Minor, quite smoothly leading back to the tonic key. The melodic “thread” forms the basis of a brief coda, at first gentle and quiet, then concluding with assertive closing gestures.

Although compact and modest in scope, the slow movement is in fact a thoroughly worked-out sonataform, with a lilting opening theme in the violins, and with a hushed transition leading to a more richly textured secondary theme, which steps briefly into C Minor, with characteristic chromatic inflection in the winds to round out the exposition. The development section is, if anything, more far-reaching than that of the first movement, with darker tones added with chromatic touches in the winds and violins, and a mysterious passage “on tiptoe, ” with hushed, yet restless figures passed between lower and upper instruments. The recapitulation lays out the basic elements very much as before.

The Menuetto is one of those “formal” minuet movements typical of Mozart---in contrast to the breezier, more “outdoors” character of many of Haydn’s symphonic minuets. The opening slurred two-note figure permeates the main minuet section, punctuated with a majestic fanfare-figure. The Trio section, marked Sempre Piano is a murmuring, meditative contrast, with doublings in the winds above and below the main violin melodic line.

The Presto finale, yet another sonataform, sets off at a whisper, interspersed with loud unison outbursts, leading to a bold transition theme which hammers its way into the dominant key for a graceful secondary theme, one which soon becomes an extensively worked-out Fugato. The closing section comprises no fewer than three themes (Mozart always tends to be a spendthrift with melodic ideas): first a buzzing, Pianissimo passage in sixteenth notes, blossoming into a whirling, legato passage (also in rapid notes), then a Fortissimo echo of the principal theme to round out the exposition. The development is brief, and memorable for its forcefulness, in which the transition theme sails around the orchestra from one instrumental voice to another. Once again the recapitulation is quite regular (perhaps the only hint that the composer was working against the clock!), with the closing section extended somewhat to wheel forward to end in jubilation.

NCO Concert

Mozart Overture to Le Nozze di Figaro

Overture to Le Nozze di Figaro

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

Eighteenth century operas were usually set in motion by introductory orchestra pieces which signaled the start of proceedings and shushed the audience---in an age of candles it was impossible to dim the houselights! In France an ouverture provided a stately formality befitting its regal origins, while the Italians heard a bustling 3-movement sinfonia, which eventually blossomed into what we now call a “symphony.” Mozart borrowed from both traditions, often with confusing results. The term “ouverture” was used in the case of Mozart’s German operas, even though the Abduction from the Seraglio is introduced by a fine example of the sinfonia, while the “ouverture” to The Magic Flute begins with a majestic slow introduction worthy of the French tradition. Still, while Don Giovanni opens with an equally impressive slow introduction, Mozart chose to call it a “sinfonia.”

Today we usually simplify matters by calling all of these pieces “overtures.” In the case of The Marriage of Figaro, Mozart composed a one-movement sinfonia, a compact sonataform structure which omits the development section as it dashes toward the opening curtain. Here, as perhaps never before, the “overture” truly sets out the essence of the dramatic piece to follow. Three minutes of high spirits, mischief and warm sentiment prepare the listener for the world of Cherubino, the Countess and the opera’s rich spectrum of characterisation. As for mischief, one cannot not but applaud Hollywood’s shrewd choice of this work to provide an “overture” to the Eddie Murphy film, Trading Places!

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Mozart Overture to Idomeneo

Overture to Idomeneo

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is unique among even the greatest composers in his unsurpassed versatility; composing important compositions in every single category or genre of music known to the 18^th century. Because the 20^th century musical world gives prime attention to the concert hall, it is easy to forget that Mozart pursued success as a composer of opera above all else. For a man who died just short of his 36^th birthday, it is amazing to consider that Mozart was occupied with operatic projects for fully 25 years, ranging from Apollo Et Hyacinthus (composed at the age of eleven) to La Clemenza Di Tito (written twelve weeks before his death.)

The very first operas written as a child were charming apprentice pieces, followed by a succession of increasingly mature and elegantly crafted works, culminating in the remarkable La Finta Giardiniera (composed at age 18), which seems to look ahead to the Marriage Of Figaro, which would appear a dozen years later. It was with Idomeneo, Re Di Creta [“Idomeneo, King of Crete”] that Mozart made his boldest step into full maturity, creating an opera which, even viewed from the perspective of the great works of his last years, could be regarded as his grandest, most ambitious work for the stage.

Mozart had composed several works which could be described as Opera Seria----works of a serious, lofty tone, following operatic traditions which had been in place for a century, and which were soon to be displaced by the more relaxed dramatic elements and varied musical elements which Mozart himself helped to establish in operas such as Figaro, Don Giovanni and Magic Flute. For many years (from the time of Beethoven to the mid-20^th century) writers on opera puzzled over Mozart’s fervent desire to compose a type of opera which clearly was becoming obsolete in its own age. Complicating any clear understanding of Mozart’s ambitions was the basic fact that the music itself was hardly known, and it was assumed that the conventions of Opera Seria were a barrier which would automatically dismiss Idomeneo out of hand. When the work finally began to be given serious attention (in the 1950s), there was widespread surprise to discover how imaginative and flexible was Mozart’s manipulation of those Opera Seria elements, and, above all, the astounding energy and emotional impact of the music itself. Finally, at the end of the 20^th century, Idomeneo has come into its own, and is now becoming a part of the repertoire along-side the later, popular Mozart operas.

A major factor in Mozart’s approach to composing Idomeneo was that the opera was to be introduced in Munich by a company of singers and instrumentalists whom Mozart had known from their earlier home, the court in Mannheim. The famous Mannheim orchestra was widely hailed as the finest in Europe, especially notable for its splendid wind players. The Mannheim orchestra included clarinets, which particularly attracted Mozart’s attention. This accounts for the remarkably rich orchestral element in the opera, with wonderfully inventive and vivid writing for the winds. In the end, Idomeneo never quite won a secure place for itself, and was revived only once in Mozart’s lifetime, although the composer loved the work perhaps more than any of his other operas.

The Overture is brief and remarkably concise, setting out with a bold ceremonial flourish in a brilliant, fanfare-like D Major, followed by a lyrical secondary theme. There is no real development, instead a prompt return to the introductory material, recapitulated very much as before. As though eager for the drama to begin, the overture unexpectedly winds down into a quiet conclusion, smoothly linking up with the opening scene of the opera.

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Mozart: Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543: Minuet

Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543: Minuet

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

Written while still in his teens, Mozart’s first couple dozen symphonies are brief, charming, pieces, full of interesting details which set them apart from the run-of-the-mill Italian Sinfonias on which they were modeled. Sometimes a darker, probing character appears out of nowhere, as in the stirring, turbulent Symphony in G Minor (No. 25), which looks ahead to the famous 40^th Symphony written in the same key. No. 25 and the serene 29^th Symphony in A Major are the most popular of the earlier symphonies. An unbroken string of wonderful symphonies, serious in tone, intricate and expansive in structure, vivid in orchestral coloration, begins with No. 33. The truly great Mozart symphonies lead off with No. 38 in D Major, the “Prague” Symphony, composed around the same time as Don Giovanni, and a year later (1788), come the amazing final three symphonies, composed within the space of barely six weeks. These works are remarkably contrasted in key, instrumentation and mood. No. 41, majestic and festive, No. 40 stormy, restless and inward-turning, and the 39^th Symphony warm and expansive in keeping with all of Mozart’s music composed in E-flat Major, a key he especially prized. With this work we move from the “quasi-symphony” of Boyce to the real McCoy: four movements, the outer ones fast and brilliant, enclosing a lyrical slow movement and hearty minuet movement. The Minuet shows Mozart in his most endearing popular vein, with a hearty initial minuet section followed by an oompah trio straight out of a tavern, suggestive of the season of the “Heuriger” [Spring wine] so typical of Viennese life.

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Mozart: Piano Concerto in A Major, No. 23, K. 488

Piano Concerto in A Major, No. 23, K. 488

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
(1756-1791)

The son of one of the great violin teachers of his time, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart received early training as a string player, and appeared as a solo violinist right up to the end of his teens----his father declared that a great career lay ahead were he willing to put his mind
to it. But Mozart was more attracted to the piano, which began to absorb his attention as early as 1764, when he travelled to London with his sister and father. There he met Johann Sebastian Bach’s youngest son, Johann Christian, who would become a powerful influence upon his musical development.

J. C. Bach had settled in London, where he appeared in the earliest known concert of music for the new instrument, and began to compose piano concerti, works were to provide models for the nine year-old composer. Not surprisingly, Mozart’s earliest piano concerti included three (K. 107) which were based on solo keyboard works by J. C. Bach, together with four others (K 37, 39-41) which were artful arrangements of music by other prominent composers of the day. Later these apprentice works were followed by an astonishing string of 23 concerti written between December 1773 and September, 1791. (There was even another concerto for violin AND piano written in 1778 [K. 315f], bringing together both of Mozart’s performing instruments---alas, left unfinished.)

With his remarkable E-flat Concerto, K. 271 ( traditionally referred to as No. 9), Mozart established his mature approach to the piano concerto. In somewhat the same manner in which Haydn “invented” the symphony, Mozart could almost be said to have “invented” the piano concerto, setting in motion an expansive tradition which was taken up by Beethoven, and carried right down to the present day.) After composing a concerto for two pianos, there came an astonishing string of seventeen concerti composed in the space of ten years, a dozen of which were written in the space of THREE YEARS (1784-86.) By then Mozart had settled in Vienna, where (like Beethoven and Brahms after him) he built a reputation as a composer-pianist. Featuring himself as soloist in new concerti, Mozart organised a series of subscription concerts which became the talk of Vienna. But the public proved fickle, attention began to wane, and in the last five years of his life Mozart was to compose only two more piano concerti.

Like the poignant, valedictory Clarinet Concerto, (Mozart’s last instrumental composition), and the earlier Piano Concerto K. 414, the 23^rd Concerto is in A Major, a key which always Mozart always invests with great warmth and subtle coloration. Scored for an orchestra without horns, trumpets and timpani, replacing the oboes with clarinets, the concerto creates an atmosphere of remarkable intimacy in which the wind instruments become partners with the solo piano, weaving a chamber music texture of delicate transparency.

No fewer than seven of Mozart’s mature piano concerti open with a lively rhythmic pattern typical of Austrian military music---a notable exception being the brooding D Minor Concerto, K. 466. However this A Major Concerto could not be farther removed from march rhythms or tragic moods, opening without rhetorical gestures in an atmosphere of ease and lyrical tenderness. (This gentle opening seems reminiscent of another A Major work, the Clarinet Quintet.) As is common with Mozart, the opening orchestral RITORNELLO lays out a series of elements which are gathered into a conventional sonataform pattern upon the entry of the piano. Unlike some of Mozart’s more “symphonic” concertos, no thematic elements are withheld, to turn up unexpectedly later on. Rather there is a genial spreading out of basic ingredients which will take on deeper meanings as the musical structure unfolds. These include the easy-going principal subject, followed by a vigorous transitional theme in the orchestra, and a second subject in three short segments. The first carries forward the relaxed mood, the second is more rhythmic and pointed, the third a murmuring, more chromatically-inclined theme which gives way to brilliant passage-work in the solo instrument. The “transition” theme returns to form a link with a closing theme, again quiet and relaxed. The challenge for Mozart is to avoid a mood of blandness, having laid out so many understated, quiet thematic elements. This he manages through contrasts in texture, instrumentation, and shifts in harmony which give fascinating gradations of tonal colour, and moments when the music raises its voice, however briefly. There is no orchestral RITORNELLO rounding out the exposition, going directly into the development, which is largely given over to extended “chamber music” for the piano and winds, the harmony always gliding forward through a variety of colours and textures. The recapitulation is quite regular, an interesting change being that the piano takes the lead in the closing theme, which is expanded to accommodate a final virtuosic flourish before the final orchestral RITORNELLO. Following the CADENZA the orchestra has a parting glance at the “transition” theme to conclude the movement.

It is surprising to consider that the slow movement is the only music Mozart ever wrote in F-sharp minor, a key notable for its rich, dark intensity. The result is one of the most touching, inward-looking movements he ever composed. It is laid out as a simple three-part structure, with a pensive, SICILIANO-like principal theme played by the piano, utterly exposed and alone, then joined by the orchestra. The contrasting central episode is an innocent tune in A Major played by the winds in partnership with the piano, creating the mood of one of the composer’s woodwind serenades. Then the main theme returns as before, followed by a coda in which tiptoeing PIZZICATO strings form the background, the piano steadily moving into the distance with poignant, hesitating melodic gestures.

The finale, marked PRESTO, is a bubbling RONDO, rich in detail and contrasting textures. The piano initiates the principal (“A”) section which comprises a chain of five distinct, interlocking musical ideas, all but the first given over to the orchestra. A quieter melody in the piano (still in the home key of A Major), acts as a transition to the key of E, where a “B” section lays out four thematic elements, this time quite distinct from one another. (The first is mostly rippling arpeggios in the piano, the second slips into E Minor, the third takes on a declamatory tone, the piano becoming progressive more absorbed in pianistic display, the fourth being a skipping up-the-scale-and-down tune of saucy folk-like character heard against a quiet PIZZICATO accompaniment.) Before we know it the A theme (first part) swings back, only to stomp off into F-sharp minor for an “Episode” (or “C,” if one is keeping track), in which bursts of keyboard temperament are juxtaposed with lilting commentary from the winds. In a carefree twist there comes ANOTHER “episode” (“D”?), this time in D Major, with the piano alternately accompanying the winds, and taking the lead, supported by the strings. Throughout there is no let-up in the breathless chase, going on at some length before gliding back to the tonic key----but not to the primary (“A”) theme, rather the TRANSITION melody (in A Major). This leads to “B,” but without the first of the four segments, reprising the other three much as before. The up-and-down-the-scale figure brings back the missing “A” theme (the one which started the movement going in the first place), now returning in triumph. The first three elements (out of five) are heard again, but suddenly Mozart (always one to mix-and-match) chooses to slip over for an affectionate farewell to the up-and-down-the-scale tune. In the nick of time all is put right: while the piano rollicks about for the last time, the little-noticed final bits of the “A” section (Nos. 4 & 5) join in the fun, and the work sails home in high spirits.