Program Notes - Sarah Chang Plays Vivaldi’s Four Seasons

First performed by the RPO on February 14, 1957; Fernando Previtali, conductor

In December 1860, a commission from the directors of the Imperial Russian Theatre in St. Petersburg reawakened Verdi’s dormant interest in composing opera. He chose a play by Spanish author Angel Saavedra, Duke of Rivas as the subject. La forza del destino (The Force of Destiny) premiered with triumphant success on November 17, 1862. Verdi, however, was far from pleased with the opera and made substantial revisions. The piece as it is now known dates from a production at La Scala, Milan in 1869. One of the changes was the discarding of the brief, original orchestral introduction and its replacement with the sort of full-blown, plot-encapsulating overture that Verdi had regularly produced in earlier times. Its succession of themes – bold, dramatic and lyrical, all of them drawn from the full score – skillfully prepares listeners for this improbably melodramatic story of jealousy and betrayal among Italian and Spanish noblemen.

The Four Seasons
Antonio Vivaldi
b. Venice, Italy / March 4, 1678
d. Vienna, Austria / July 28, 1741

First performed in its entirety by the RPO on March 3, 1988; Pinchas Zukerman, conductor and soloist

Vivaldi’s busy and productive career as composer, violinist and teacher drew its due share of acclaim. One measure of his success is the fact that Johann Sebastian Bach did him the honor of transcribing several of his concertos. Vivaldi played a major role in several significant musical developments, the rise of the concerto above all. His 500-plus concertos – he holds the record for the highest number, by a large margin – feature a wide variety of soloists. As you would expect, the lion’s share, more than 200, focus on the violin.

His reputation suffered a severe lapse in the years following his death. His music’s return to widespread currency dates only from the years following the Second World War. It returned to favor after two centuries of neglect thanks to the recording industry and the rise in popularity of the chamber orchestra.

During that down time, virtually the only piece to remain in the standard repertoire was the set of four violin concertos that he himself entitled The Four Seasons. It was published by the Dutch company Le Cène in 1725, although portions of it, at least, were undoubtedly written much earlier. It appeared as the opening third of a set of 12 concertos bearing the overall title The Contest Between Harmony and Invention. In the title Vivaldi put face-to-face two opposing musical tendencies: the time-honored tradition of following the current rules of composition, and the wish to give unrestrained play to the imagination. It is clearly the latter which prevails in The Four Seasons.

Its enduring popularity has been based to a great degree on its nature as descriptive or programmatic music, an area in whose orchestral division Vivaldi was a major pioneer. He didn’t stop at just attaching an overall title. The original edition features quite elaborate explanations of the music’s content, including four sonnets, one for each concerto. Although the author of these verses isn’t identified, it could well have been Vivaldi himself. Some of his original manuscripts are even more explicit. The barking of the goatherd’s dog in the second movement of the “Spring” Concerto, for example, is only identified in the viola part. Storms and other blustery weather recur throughout the score, blowing through gustily in Spring, Summer and Winter. The Spring and Autumn concertos wrap up with festive rustic dances.

Gli uccelli (The Birds)
Ottorino Respighi
b. Bologna, Italy / July 9, 1879
d. Rome, Italy / April 18, 1936

First performed by the RPO on February 8, 1951; Erich Leinsdorf, conductor

Respighi’s orchestral works fall into two categories: original compositions, such as the three popular tone poems celebrating the glories of Rome; and pieces transcribed from, or inspired by, music of previous eras. This second sector of his output includes the charming orchestral suites Ancient Dances and Airs (three sets), The Birds and Three Botticelli Pictures. The building blocks of all but the last of these were Italian and French lute and harpsichord music of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. He took their many charms, recreated and updated them through lucid yet colorful chamber orchestra scoring.

He composed Gli uccelli (The Birds) in 1927. He conducted the premiere himself, in Sao Paolo, Brazil, in June 1928. In it, he highlights that most bird-like of orchestral families, the woodwinds. He based the opening theme of the cheerful Prelude on an operatic aria by Italian composer Bernardo Pasquini (1637-1710). He continues with a medley of themes to be heard later in the suite, then brings back the opening melody.

The Dove uses a theme by French composer and lute player Jacques de Gallot. Respighi presents it as a gentle oboe solo, with harp and muted strings providing an accompaniment suggestive of a dove’s soft cooing. Later he adds a further bird-like effect, trills on the strings, and passes the tune first to clarinet, then solo violin.

Next is a cheeky portrait of The Hen. It derives from a celebrated harpsichord work by another Frenchman, Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764). The strings launch the sprightly clucking, with bubbling accompaniment in the winds, but eventually Respighi turns the entire orchestra into a gaggle of fussing fowl. Is that the voice of a bossy rooster heard interrupting at the end?

An anonymous English melody is the source of a gentle portrayal of The Nightingale. Three years earlier, Respighi had called for a recording of an actual nightingale’s sweet song to add a touch of realism to his tone poem Pines of Rome. The purely instrumental homage found here opens with a quietly rustling nod to Wagner (the Forest Murmurs sequence from Siegfried), then sets the theme as a lovely flute solo with bassoon underpinning. Solo horn takes over the featured role in this lovely, poetic nocturne, the celesta frosting all with its silvery tinkling.

Pasquini again provides the source material (this time a harpsichord work) for the merry finale, The Cuckoo. All the winds echo the bird’s trademark falling call. The mood shifts briefly to more solemn thoughts, only to have the reverie interrupted by the cuckoo’s return. At the close, Respighi brings back the Pasquini tune heard in the Prelude, to bring this delightful musical aviary full circle.

Pines of Rome
Ottorino Respighi

First performed by the RPO on December 1, 1927; Eugene Goosens, conductor

Respighi relocated to Rome in 1913 and lived there for the rest of his life. He celebrated the past and present beauties of his beloved adopted city in three sumptuous tone poems or suites: Fountains of Rome (1916), Pines of Rome (1924) and Roman Festivals (1929). He stated that he didn’t intend them to be directly descriptive, but rather examples of “transfigured truth converted into sound.” Nevertheless, after he had finished composing them, he attached a literary preface to each score. The score has four sections, played as a continuous whole.

Respighi wrote, “Children are at play in the pine groves of the Villa Borghese; they dance round in circles, they play at soldiers, marching and fighting, they are wrought up by their own cries like swallows at evening, they come and go in swarms.

“Suddenly the scene changes, and we see the shades of the pine trees fringing the entrance to a catacomb. From the depths rises the sound of mournful psalm-singing, flowing through the air like a solemn hymn, and gradually and mysteriously dispersing.

“A quiver runs through the air; the pine trees of the Janiculum [one of the seven hills upon which Rome is built – D. A.] stand distinctly outlined in the clear light of a full moon. A nightingale is singing.” Respighi’s potentially ludicrous decision to include an actual recording of a nightingale in the concluding section proved a masterful inspiration instead. The bird’s incomparably sweet song blends perfectly with the light, transparent orchestral textures.

“Misty dawn on the Appian way: solitary pine trees guarding the magic landscape; the muffled, ceaseless rhythm of unending footsteps. The poet has a fantastic vision of bygone glories: trumpets sound and, in the brilliance of the newly-risen sun, a consular army bursts forth towards the Sacred Way, mounting in triumph to the Capitol.”

© 2006 Don Anderson. All rights reserved.