Case in point: I gave a collaborative-piano recital this afternoon with a soprano, a mezzo, a flutist (ahem, that is what they like to be called) and a second pianist. Knowing me, I got the coffee theme in there somehow.
I additionally attempted to integrate coffee puns into every paragraph of the notes, but I'm sure that would have gotten me grounded (aha! ha!). With or without, enjoy.
Program Notes
Frédéric Chopin may have not been able to
decide between composing a nocturne, an etude, and a waltz, so he blended all
of them together into one of the first programmatic instrumental pieces: the ballade.
This genre sets forth a story in several parts, each flowing seamlessly
into the next. Musicologists wonder if
the Ballade No. 3 describes a disastrous Majorca vacation with his lover
–uncomfortable carriage rides and loud thunderstorms kept interrupting the
romantic moments. Considering the style
reminiscent of Viennese waltz, it also seems to depict a scene from a 19th-century
ballroom. The listener will have to
guess what the performer’s personal narrative is.
Christoph
Willibald Gluck’s opera Paride ed Elena (Paris and Helen) chronicles the
mythological opening to the Iliad: Paris, winner of the Olympian contests, has
chosen love, and falls in love with Helen of Troy. Baroque operas such as these are rarely
performed in entirety (the form dramatically and musically matured later), but vocalists
often single out arias for concert performance.
Tenors often choose O del mio
dolce ardor, a first-act declaration of love, but it may also be performed
by a female soprano, as is done here.
Ernest
Chausson’s music lands stylistically between the Romanticism of his teachers
Cesar Franck and Jules Massenet and the beginnings of Impressionism. A writer and painter himself, Chausson gave
his art songs a florid and elegant simplicity foreshadowing that of Debussy’s
later piano works. In this selection
from 7 Melodies, the composer lushly
sets a poem by Leconte de Lisle about a lover comparing a hummingbird at the
flowers to his lover’s kiss.
Imagine
stopping by the city’s favorite coffeeshop after church to find Johann
Sebastian Bach directing a cantata! After
Sunday morning services wrapped up, Bach found time for his other
pursuits: a side stint at Café
Zimmermann, Leipzig’s largest and best niche of its kind. Instituted by Georg Philip Telemann, its
resident collegium musicum drew its
support solely from the café’s sales, and often premiered Bach’s new secular
works, including the comical “Coffee Cantata.”
Essentially a miniature opera, it presents an argument between a father
who wants his daughter Lieschen to give up java for a husband, and the daughter
who ignores his pleas. In the end, she
pretends to agree with him, but secretly spreads the word that any potential
suitor must allow her to make coffee any time she pleases. Ei! Wie schmeckt der Kaffee süße is her “love ballad.”
Clearly
undistracted by its cultural scene, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart experienced one of
his most productive bursts of inspiration in Vienna from 1784-86, finishing the
last 12 of his 27 piano concerti. Of
this set, No. 25 (K. 503) is one of the lesser-performed, but nonetheless has a
authoritative and distinguished personality – the first movement’s themes may
have inspired Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 and Symphony No. 5, and the second
motif hints at France’s national anthem.
The composer supplied no cadenza for this piece, so the soloist simply
takes the second-inversion chord and runs with it until cuing the orchestra -
or second pianist.
Once again,
we explore the fine line between French music and Impressionism in Poulenc’s
Flute Sonata. As one of “Les Six,” a sextet of composers seeking
a national musical voice for France, Francis Poulenc demonstrated 20th-century
techniques of polytonality alongside traditional textures in piano and chamber
works. In many cases, he and the others
ended up more or less sounding “not German” instead of uniquely French, but his
compositions are distinct for being lyrical.
Rapidly changing keys and meters, the piano and flute alternate the melody
in the Allegro, and the wistful Cantilena sprinkles an element of jazz
into the sonata art form. Contrasted
with earlier pieces of the same name, here the soloist and accompanist are
artistic equals, and thus it is well-loved in collaborative repertoire.
“Wouldn’t you like to be on Broadway?” asks
(or rather sings) Harry to his young protégée Rose in Kurt Weill’s
slice-of-life 1947 musical Street Scene. The cavatina “What Good Would The Moon Be?”
is her rhetorical retort. Aside from
show-business aspirations, these words apply to any other joy in life – without
the right person, or even with the wrong person, the sparkle and shimmer cannot
change the way one looks at life. Whatever
life sends, the right love in whatever form it appears brings a glisten to the
everyday and ordinary.
My Fair Lady ‘s Eliza
Doolittle, like Rose, is also dropping hints to her romantic interest. During “I Could Have Danced All Night,” she
has just danced with her mentor Henry Higgins, and though it took place for
only a few seconds during a lesson in English diction, she is abuzz with
late-night exhilaration. Sometimes the
hero simply needs a little assistance in figuring out what the heroine really
desires.
In George
Gershwin’s song transcriptions, the pianist gets the chance to emulate a jazz
singer. For example, “The Man I Love” features an additional staff on which
the pianist is to play, with the accompaniment in the lower register leaping up
to “sing.” Playfully, “Somebody Loves Me”
trades off the tune between the left and right hand with unexpected changes of
style. Finally, Gershwin presents the
melody of “Nobody But You” with ostentatious chords utilizing the whole
keyboard like an embellished piano roll.
Though these three fall in another order in his collection of 18
arrangements, the lyrics as configured here tell a charming tale.
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