Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Russian composer

Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov was born on 6^th March 1844 at Tikhvin which is some 120 miles east of St Petersburg in Russia. His father was a retired civil governor who owned a considerable amount of land. His family was musical and Nicolai was soon discovered to have musical ability and perfect pitch, but he had no early ambition to devote himself to music.

At the age of 12 he entered the St Petersburg Naval College, his sole wish being to follow his older brother into the Russian Navy. He was taken to the opera by friends and was enchanted by the Persian music in Glinka’s “Ruslan and Ludmilla”. He continued to study the piano and produced a few small compositions but still with no plans to make a career from music.

He was introduced to the composer Mily Balakirev who in turn brought him into contact with Alexander Borodin and Modest Mussorgsky. Together with the lesser-known Cesar Cui, these composers (known to posterity as “The Five” or “The Mighty Handful”) devoted themselves to developing a specifically Russian style of musical composition. At the time of the group’s formation, Balakirev was the only professional musician among them.

Under pressure from Balakirev, who was the driving force behind The Five, Rimsky-Korsakov began work on a symphony but interrupted this to do what he had always wanted to do, namely set off on board a Navy ship, the Almaz, to pursue his seafaring career. He was away for three years, during which time he was able to see orchestral and operatic performances in London and New York.

On his return to St Petersburg in 1865, now aged 21, Rimsky-Korsakov felt free to go his own way in career terms, although he was now back under the influence of Balakirev, who was both a help and a hindrance. Balakirev had founded the Free School of Music in 1862 and, in order to raise funds for it, mounted a series a concerts for which The Five were pressured to write music. One such piece was Rimsky-Korsakov’s completed First Symphony.

He became firm friends with Mussorgsky, who encouraged him to write his “Sadko” tone poem. He also spent time working alongside Borodin while completing his opera “The Maid of Pskov”, which was inspired by the peasant dances he heard on the country estate where the two composers were staying.

In 1871, at the age of 27, he was surprised to be offered the post of Professor of Composition and Instrumentation at the St Petersburg Conservatory, and he was happy to accept it despite still being officially employed by the Navy, who in 1873 appointed him as Inspector of Military Bands. These posts enabled his full-time devotion to composition and the study of technique and orchestration. As an orchestrator he was eventually to become one of the greatest in Europe.

The themes that dominated the rest of Rimsky-Korsakov’s career as a composer were nationalism, orientalism and an interest in magic and fairy tales. These themes are apparent in such works as his collection of “A Hundred Russian Folk Songs”, the “Russian Easter Festival Overture”, and perhaps his best-known work today, “Scheherazade”, which is a set of symphonic poems based on the stories of the “Arabian Nights”.

During his lifetime, and for some time afterwards, Rimsky-Korsakov was probably better known as a composer of operas, although only a few are well-known today. These include “Sadko” (1896), which he developed from his earlier tone poem, “The Tale of Tsar Saltan” (1900) and “The Golden Cockerel” (1907). He also produced two revised versions of his friend Mussorgsky’s “Boris Godunov” (in 1896 and 1908) but modern preferences are for the original.

In his later life Rimsky-Korsakov was regarded as the leading figure of the musical world of St Petersburg, taking over this position from Balakirev (who in fact outlived him). He was instrumental, for example, in encouraging the early career of Igor Stravinsky, and other pupils at the Conservatory included Alexander Glazunov and Ottorino Respighi.

Despite being an “establishment” figure Rimsky-Korsakov took the side of the students in 1905 when they rebelled against the conservatism of the academic authorities. This was the year of the first Russian Revolution when the Tsar’s troops had massacred hundreds of peaceful protestors on 22^nd January, so showing dissent was a brave thing to do. For taking this stand Rimsky-Korsakov was dismissed from his post, but it made him a popular hero and he was later re-instated when his former pupil Glazunov was appointed Director and insisted on Rimsky-Korsakov’s return.

This incident was doubtless behind Rimsky-Korsakov’s choice of subject for his last opera, “The Golden Cockerel”, which features the stupidities of a Tsar and his officials. Not surprisingly the opera was banned by the censor and the composer never saw it performed.

Rimsky-Korsakov died on 21^st June 1908 from heart disease, at the age of 63. A number of his works are regularly performed to this day and are universally popular. However, apart from “Scheherazde” they tend to be shorter pieces such as the lively “Capriccio Espagnol” and the ever-popular “Flight of the Bumble Bee” (which is a short orchestral interlude from his opera “The Tale of Tsar Saltan”). Rimsky-Korsakov is justly renowned for these works, for his masterly orchestration, and for his work in furthering the careers of many other composers.

© John Welford

The Gondoliers, by Gilbert and Sullivan: a summary of the plot

The Gondoliers (1889) was the last comic opera by Gilbert and Sullivan to achieve popular success, and strains were already appearing in the relationship between librettist and composer. However, it was most certainly a success, containing some excellent music and a typically Gilbertian plot. Despite Gilbert’s digs at aristocracy and monarchy, the Gondoliers was performer by royal command at Windsor Castle in 1891, the first light entertainment to be performed before Queen Victoria since the death of Prince Albert 20 years previously.

Act 1. The Piazetta, Venice.

The opening musical number lasts for about 15 minutes and sets the scene both musically and dramatically. The chorus of Venetian maidens have only one thing on their minds, which two among them are going to lucky enough to grab the two hottest catches among the gondoliers, namely the brothers Marco and Giuseppe Palmieri?

When the gondoliers appear, it is agreed that the decision is to be made by lot, as the result of a game of catch. The two lucky ladies are Tessa and Gianetta, but nobody is left empty-handed because all the other ladies are able to find a gondolier to suit them.

When they all go off to the church to get married, a gondola slides into view, and the Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro, together with their daughter Casilda and servant Luiz arrive. It is soon made clear that the Duke, despite being a Spanish nobleman of high birth, is also very short of cash, and his mission to Venice has a pecuniary purpose.

They tell Casilda that, in infancy, she was married by proxy to the infant son and heir of the King of Barataria. However, the Grand Inquisitor became concerned that the King, who had converted to Wesleyan Methodism, was becoming bigoted in his views. The Grand Inquisitor therefore had the prince abducted and taken to Venice, so that he should not be infected by the King’s views. Now that the King has been killed in an insurrection, Casilda is the new Queen of Barataria and has been conveyed to Venice so that she can meet her husband for the first time and acquire the wealth that goes with the position.

The Duke then explains that, in order to make ends meet, he has registered himself as a limited company, and he then launches into his patter song that concerns his military exploits of “leading his regiment from behind”.

As the Duke and Duchess move offstage to meet the Grand Inquisitor, Casilda and Luiz rush into each others’ arms, as they have long been secret lovers. However, all that must end, now that Casilda knows that she is already married. Luiz lets slip that he always knew about the Barataria prince, because his mother had been the nurse into whose charge the prince had been entrusted.

The Duke and Duchess return, accompanied by Don Alhambra del Bolero, the Grand Inquisitor. He explains that there is a small problem in finding the prince, because, after he had brought the boy to Venice he left him with a gondolier, who raised him alongside his own son. Unfortunately, the gondolier was much given to drink and could never make out which was his own son and which was the prince. Even more unfortunately, the gondolier is now dead (“A taste for drink, combined with gout, had doubled him up for ever”), so telling the boys apart will now depend entirely on the testimony of the prince’s former nursemaid, Luiz’s mother. She has been sent for and, when she arrives, according to Don Alhambra, everything will be sorted out.

The gondoliers and contadine now take the stage, rejoicing in their newly-wedded state. Don Alhambra enters and, as the chorus members slink off, learns that both Palmieri brothers have just got married. Marco and Giuseppe, who declare that they are staunch republicans who despise kings and hold all men to be equal, are then told that one of them is indeed a king. They suddenly discover that their republicanism might not be absolute, and that some kings are all right, especially those who are nice to gondoliers.

Don Alhambra says that it is essential that the king take his throne immediately and therefore he must sail for Barataria at once. Given the problem of identity, the two must act as joint sovereign until things can be sorted out. Marco and Giuseppe are allowed to take their fellow gondoliers with them but must leave their wives behind, at least for the time being.

When the chorus of gondoliers return, they are told that they are all going to Barataria, and that everyone will enjoy equality when they get there, whether they be “the noble lord who rules the state” or “the noble lord who scrubs the grate”.

The gondoliers prepare to leave, and their wives tell them to behave themselves when they get to Barataria.

Act 2. The Court of Barataria

The gondoliers have become courtiers or artisans, all with equal status. Marco and Giuseppe complain that, although they are one person as far as being king is concerned, they would prefer to be regarded as two people when it comes to the food ration. This is agreed. They then give an account of how useful they are around the palace, doing lots of little jobs to help out, as well as making all the important decisions.

Only one thing is missing, and that is their wives. Marco sings of the recipe for perfect happiness, of which the main ingredient is female company. No sooner has he finished than that is exactly what he gets, as the wives and female chorus suddenly appear, explaining that they got bored in Venice and simply had to come to Barataria.

This leads to a wild group dance that is interrupted by the arrival of Don Alhambra, who is astonished at what he finds, particularly the breakdown of social distinctions. He points out that promoting everyone to high rank is bound to lead to problems because “when everybody’s somebody, then no-one’s anybody”.

Don Alhambra then tells them that the Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro are about to arrive, with Casilda, and that one of the gondoliers is an unintentional bigamist. The two couples then try to work out how two husbands have managed to acquire three wives. The two women get particularly heated at the prospect of having to share a husband.

The Duke and Duchess then take the stage. The Duchess explains to Casilda that the secret of a happy marriage is to give way at the right moments but assume command when necessary. The Duke gives an account of his money-making activities that are only possible because of his titled status.

When Marco and Giuseppe arrive, the Duke takes them to task for their lack of respect to their noble visitors, then gives them a lesson in courtly demeanour.

The Duke and Duchess leave Casilda alone with Marco and Giuseppe, but Tessa and Gianetta soon arrive. The five of them then try to work out how marriage can be described as a state of unity, “when excellent husbands are bisected, wives divisible into three”.

However, the whole company now comes on stage, bringing forward Inez, who was the nursemaid of the real king. She reveals that, when Don Alhambra’s men came to take the prince, she substituted her own son for the prince, whom she brought up as her own. The rightful king is therefore none other than Luiz.

Everyone therefore ends up with the right partner, although neither Tessa nor Gianetta will get to be a queen!

© John Welford

The Enigma Variations, by Sir Edward Elgar

The Enigma Variations is one of the most popular orchestral works written by the English composer Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934). It comprises a theme and 14 variations, the last one also doubling as the work’s finale. It was composed in 1898-9 and was first performed in London on 19^th June 1899 when it was an immediate success.

Elgar was something of a late developer, and, at the age of 42, had produced plenty of chamber and choral music, but nothing that had really grabbed the public’s attention, and certainly no major works for full orchestra. By contrast, Mozart had clocked up 41 symphonies by the age of 32. After “Enigma”, Elgar was to go on to compose his Pomp and Circumstance Marches, two completed symphonies, his famous concertos for violin and for cello, and much more besides, all within a 20-year period that took him into his 60s.

The genesis of the work

The story of how the Enigma Variations came about is an interesting one. Elgar had had a tiring day giving violin lessons and he sat down after dinner in the evening at his piano, lit a cigar, and began doodling on the keys. His wife Alice remarked that she liked the tune he had played and Edward began to play around with it. He turned to Alice and asked her who it reminded her of. She replied that it sounded just like how their friend Billy Baker left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Elgar then had the idea of writing a whole series of musical portraits of people they knew, and the end result, entitled “Variations on an Original Theme”, was dedicated “To my friends pictured within”. The variations vary in length from under a minute (Variation IV is usually played in less than 30 seconds) to over four minutes (the majestic “Nimrod”). The finale, which is also Elgar’s self-portrait, runs to about five and a half minutes. Performances of the whole work normally stretch to about 33 minutes.

Portraits in music

Each variation was inscribed with the name, nickname or initials of the friend in question, and it has been possible to identify who each person was, with the exception of Variation XIII which was inscribed “Romanza: *** ”. It was long thought that this was Lady Mary Lygon, who was sailing to Australia at the time of composition, but another theory is that the subject was Helen Jessie Weaver, who was Elgar’s first love as a young man, but who had broken their engagement and emigrated to New Zealand. As it is, this wistful piece, coming just before the finale, quotes Mendelssohn’s Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage on a solo clarinet above a repeated drum beat that represents the throb of a ship’s engines. Elgar would have kept the name hidden out of respect for his wife.

The variations provide a wide range of moods and orchestral colours, from the light and airy “Dorabella” to the swelling and solemn “big tune” of “Nimrod”. The subject of the latter was Elgar’s publisher and loyal supporter August Jaeger, to whom Elgar felt he owed a huge debt of gratitude for helping him through the hard times. The name is a pun on Jaeger’s name, which means “hunter” in German, with Nimrod being a character from Genesis who is described as “a mighty hunter”.

Elgar explained to Jaeger that he liked to imagine what each subject of the variation would have written “if they were asses enough to compose”. He therefore tried to get inside the person in question, so that the variation is not so much his view of them as their view of themselves. He also incorporated musical references to certain personal characteristics such as a laugh (in Variation VIII) or a stutter (in Variation X). In Variation XI the subject’s dog falls into the river and scrambles out with a bark. In Variation VI, representing a viola player, Elgar makes the viola players in the orchestra cross straight from the fourth to the second string, which is difficult to do without catching the third, which is presumably what the unfortunate “Ysobel” tended to do!

In the case of the Nimrod variation, one wonders how true it might be that these are largely imagined self-portraits, because if this is how August Jaeger regarded August Jaeger, he must have been a very conceited man! Variation IX stands out as the “star” of the Enigma Variations, often being played out of context, such as at the annual Remembrance Day ceremony at the Cenotaph in London’s Whitehall and many places besides. It is an adagio that brings to mind a Beethoven slow movement, which is a deliberate reference to Jaeger’s supposed encouragement of Elgar to the effect that the latter could do what Beethoven did and triumph above adversity.

What is the theme?

One feature of the Enigma Variations that has intrigued people ever since is what the theme actually is, hence the name “Enigma” which the piece soon acquired. Elgar called it “an original theme” and never divulged if there was more to it than that. In the program notes for the first performance he wrote:

“The Enigma I will not explain, its ‘dark saying’ must be left unguessed. Furthermore, through and over the whole set another larger theme goes, but is not played”.

As far as the heard theme was concerned, Elgar implied that it was obvious, uttering statements such that it was “so well-known that it is extraordinary that no-one has spotted it”. This has led people into all sorts of directions, including everything from “Rule Britannia” to “Pop goes the weasel” as suggestions for the origin of the theme, not quoted directly but written upside-down, or as a counterpoint to the actual theme.

In more recent times the musicologist Joseph Cooper suggested that the theme came from Mozart’s Prague Symphony, which was a particular favourite of Elgar’s and was included on the bill at the concert when the Enigma Variations were premiered.

Another theory is that the first four notes of the theme can be represented by the numbers 3, 1, 4, 2, which are the first four numbers of “Pi”. Could it be that the “dark saying” was “four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pi(e)”?

However, an even more intriguing suggestion was made in 1985 by Marshall Portnoy, who referred back to Elgar’s contention that the “larger theme” is never actually played, and that what should be sought is not an actual musical theme but a motif.

Portnoy’s theory is based on Elgar’s love of puzzles and numbers and his veneration of J. S. Bach. It is well known that Bach himself used the letters of his name as a musical theme, given that, in German notation, BACH can be represented as the notes B flat, A, C and B natural. Portnoy claimed that the Enigma theme used these same notes in that order.

However, Portnoy went further by suggesting that, if numbers are assigned to letters (A=1, B=2, etc), the values of ELGAR and JSBACH both come to 43, and there are exactly 43 notes in the initial violin statement of the Enigma theme. Added to that, the Nimrod variation dedicated to Elgar’s greatest friend contains exactly 43 bars. The letters BACH “add up” to 14, and there are 14 variations. Read as numerals, BCH is 238, and there are 238 bars in the final variation, in which Elgar portrayed himself.

Elgar wrote a quotation from the 16^th-century Italian poet Tasso at the end of the score of the Enigma Variations. This was “Bramo Assai, Poco Spero, Nulla Chiego”. This translates as “I long for much, I hope for little, I ask for nothing”, which are sentiments that were very appropriate for Elgar at this point in his life. The initial letters of the first two words, plus the first two letters of the final word, spell Bach! A coincidence? Maybe!

Whatever the solution to the enigma may be, the Enigma Variations still comprise a highly enjoyable and evocative musical work by England’s greatest composer, just coming to the height of his powers. It is a standard work played by many orchestras across the world, and will doubtless continue to be so. Attempting to solve the riddle only adds another dimension of interest!

© John Welford

Gotterdamerung, by Richard Wagner: a summary of the plot

Gotterdamerung is the fourth and final part of the Ring Cycle, in which the twists and turns of the other three operas come to a stupendous, if slightly contrived, conclusion. The usual English translation of the title is "The Twilight of the Gods", although other variations on the theme are used on occasion.

Prelude (which makes a change from leaving us in the dark, which has been Wagner's practice up until now)

The Norns, who control the fate of both men and gods, weave the thread of life, but it breaks. They therefore know that the destruction of all things is at hand. Siegfried leaves Brunnhilde behind so that he can set forth upon new adventures, but he leaves the ring in her safe keeping. However, he has the invisible cap, his sword Helpneed, and Brunnhilde's winged steed with him, so he probably reckons that he should be OK. Big mistake.

Act 1, Scene 1.  The court of King Gunther

Siegfried is welcomed warmly by powerful King Gunther, but among the company is Hagen, the son of Alberich, who knows all about Siegfried. He brews a potion for Siegfried that causes him to forget his past. He therefore loses all memory of Brunnhilde and proceeds to fall for Gunther's sister, Gutrune, and to ask for her hand in marriage. If you remember, his parents were pretty quick operators in the love department, too. The King agrees, but asks for Brunnhilde as his own wife. You might have thought that Siegfried's answer would be "Who's Brunnhilde?", but he agrees to go along with Gunther and seals the deal.

Act 1, Scene 2. The mountain pass

Valtraute, one of the Valkyrie, pleads with Brunnhilde to restore the ring to the Rhine-maidens, as this is the only thing that can save the gods from destruction. However, Brunnhilde doesn't see why she should do the gods any favours, given how they have treated her, and the ring is not hers to give up anyway. Siegfried enters, but he is using the invisible cap (he hasn't forgotten what that's all about, obviously) to change his appearance to that of Gunther. She has no intention of coming quietly but is forced to follow "Gunther" back to the King's court. The ring is also taken from her finger, which is something else that Siegfried has not forgotten about.

Act 2. Gunther's court

The King publicly proclaims Brunnhilde as his Queen, and gives Gutrune's hand to Siegfried. Brunnhilde is puzzled by all this, understandably enough, especially when she sees the ring on Siegfried's finger. She has a go at Siegfried, but he is still under the influence of Hagen's potion.

Brunnhilde is now furious with Siegfried and is happy to listen to Hagen's plot to kill him. Hagen's motivation, of course, is to get hold of the ring. The plot consists of persuading Gunther that Siegfried has been making passes at Brunnhilde, and this is enough for Gunther to become Siegfried's enemy as well. And the day had started so well.

Act 3. The bank of the Rhine

Siegfried is out hunting, and is separated from the rest of the court party, when he comes across the Rhine-maidens who ask him for the ring, pointing out that he can only escape his own destruction by so doing. Well, it would persuade me, but Siegfried is made of sterner stuff and he refuses to oblige. Gunther, Hagen and the other hunters enter and, as they rest from their exertions, they ask Siegfried to relate his adventures. The potion is starting to wear off and, as Siegfried gets to the bit about Brunnhilde, he stops, puzzled. Hagen seizes his opportunity and thrusts his spear between Siegfried's shoulders. As he lies dying, his memory clears completely and he calls for Brunnhilde. Hagen and Gunther both try to seize the ring, and in the struggle Gunther is killed.

Gutrune mourns the loss of her husband and her brother. Brunnhilde, who now knows the truth, enters and calms everyone down, ordering a funeral pyre to be built for Siegfried. As it burns, she mounts it and is consumed as well. The waters of the Rhine rise and engulf everyone, whether dead or alive, including Hagen who now has the ring.

The ring is therefore now back with the Rhine-maidens, and in the sky can be seen a huge blaze as Valhalla and all the gods are destroyed.

© John Welford

Franz Liszt, composer and virtuoso pianist

Franz Liszt (1811-86) was one of the major composers of the 19th century and certainly its greatest pianist. As no recordings exist of Liszt at the keyboard it is not possible to say whether his skills have ever been exceeded, but contemporary accounts of his performances suggest that he should rank highly on any list (pardon the pun) of all-time greats.

Franz (or Ferencz to use his Hungarian name) Liszt was born at Raiding near Sopron in Hungary on 22nd October 1811. His father Adam was in the service of Prince Nicholas Esterhazy, who until 1790 had been the patron of Joseph Haydn. One of Adam’s functions was to play the cello in the court orchestra at the Prince’s Hungarian palace at Esterhaza.

Adam recognised Franz’s musical ability very early and gave him piano lessons from the age of seven. Only two years later Franz was giving public concerts, after which (in 1821) a group of wealthy Hungarians sponsored him to go to Vienna, with his whole family, and receive a proper musical education in both performance and composition. While in Vienna Franz gave more concerts and met Beethoven and Schubert.

In 1823, the Liszt family moved to Paris, but Franz was refused admission to the Conservatoire because he was not French. Instead, he was given private tuition and in turn gave many concerts, including on visits to England where he was hailed as “the next Mozart”. His early compositions included a one-act opera that was performed at the Paris Opera in 1825.

Franz found the constant touring and adulation as an “infant prodigy” to be a considerable strain and he decided to cut back, giving serious thought to training as a priest. However, his father died suddenly in 1827 and Franz, without Adam’s continual support, had to earn a living by giving piano lessons in Paris.

After an unfortunate love affair with one of his pupils, which ended when the girl’s father insisted on the attachment being ended, Franz went through a period of self-doubt and did virtually nothing for two years until the revolution of 1830 gave him fresh impetus to compose and he started work on his “Revolutionary Symphony”. He came under the influence of Berlioz, Chopin and Paganini, all of whom he admired greatly.

In 1834, he met the already married Comtesse Marie d’Agoult, with whom he began a long-running affair which produced three children. They lived together for four years, mainly in Switzerland and Italy, although their relationship later broke down. His “Transcendental Studies” belong to this period.

In 1839, Liszt resumed his life as a travelling virtuoso pianist, inspired by the need to raise funds to build a monument to Beethoven in Bonn, Germany. It was while he giving a series of concerts in Vienna that he visited his native Hungary for the first time since his childhood and was inspired by the gypsy music that he heard. This was later to lead to his “Hungarian Rhapsodies”, which are among his most popular works today.

Liszt toured widely until 1847, being lionised wherever he went. He still found time to compose, producing many songs and choral works as well as pieces for the piano. However, his peripatetic life put too much strain on his relationship with the Comtesse and they finally separated in 1844.

In 1847, when performing in Kiev, Liszt met Princess Carolyne Sayn-Wittgenstein, with whom he would be associated for the rest of his life. She persuaded him to give up his career as a virtuoso and concentrate on composing. After settling at Weimar in eastern Germany in 1848, where he stayed until 1861 as “Director of Music Extraordinary” to the Grand Duchess, Liszt began his most productive period as a composer, his works including twelve symphonic poems, his “Faust” and “Dante” symphonies, two piano concertos, his “Totentanz” for piano and orchestra, and other major works for solo piano.

He also conducted the works of other composers, including Wagner, Schumann and Berlioz. His promotion of their works, and those of composers from the past such as Bach and Beethoven, did much to popularise them and create a fresh audience for music that might otherwise have been lost.

His relationship with Wagner suffered a setback when Liszt’s married daughter Cosima began an affair with the German composer, and it was not until 1872 that Liszt and Wagner were reconciled.

Liszt moved to Rome in 1861, where he was unsuccessful in gaining permission to marry the Princess due to the Pope’s refusal to sanction her divorce. While at Rome Liszt wrote mainly religious music and he also took the four minor orders of the Catholic Church. Although he was often referred to as the “Abbé Liszt”, and wore clerical dress, he never became a priest.

In 1869, he was invited to return to Weimar, where he gave master classes in piano playing, and from 1871 he did the same at Budapest. For the rest of his life he made regular journeys between his three bases of Weimar, Budapest and Rome. He gave advice to many younger composers, including Borodin, Saint-Saens and Debussy.

In 1886, he made a final tour that included London and Paris, and in July visited the festival at Bayreuth, where he fell ill and died on 31st July at the age of 74.

As well as being a piano virtuoso, and the first pianist to give complete recitals that lasted for a whole evening, Liszt made a permanent contribution to the world of music by revolutionising keyboard technique. As a composer he invented the musical form of the one-movement symphonic poem and he expanded the musical language of his time, both in terms of harmony and in his concept of the “transformation of themes” by which all the motifs in a work derive from a single basic idea.

Many of his works have proved to be enduringly popular and his solo works for the piano have been essential elements of the repertoire of most concert pianists down to the present day.

© John Welford

Famous composers of the Classical era in music

The term “classical” is often used to mean what might otherwise be called “serious” music, to distinguish it from pop, rock, folk, jazz or any other classification. These terms are never satisfactory, however, and often give rise to confusion.

That said, the term “Classical era in music”, properly defined, only applies to the relatively brief period between the end of the Baroque period (conveniently marked by the death of J S Bach in 1850) and the rise of Romanticism around 1820. Its beginning corresponded with the general rejection of Baroque and Rococo taste throughout Europe and a conscious looking back to the classical models of Ancient Greece and Rome, or at least to how they were imagined to be. This trend could be seen in visual art, furniture design, architecture, literature and much else. In music there were no classical parallels to look back to, so classical music was something quite new and original, although built on what had gone before.

It would also be a mistake to assume that every composer who had been writing in the Baroque style suddenly decided to become “classical”. These things happen gradually, and there were many cases of “overlap”, as there were at the other end of the period when Romanticism started to take hold.

That said, there are three well-known composers who fall squarely within this period and whose works largely typify the classical era in terms of style. These three also qualify for the “famous” label, their names being easily recognisable by most people. They are Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Ludwig van Beethoven.

Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

An Austrian, Haydn was for many years court composer to the Esterhazy family, one of the richest and most powerful families of central Europe. He was required to run the musical establishment of the court, which included producing a constant stream of new compositions for the orchestra to play. As such, Haydn developed the symphony into the form that it has had ever since, writing a total of 106 during his lifetime. He also wrote more than 70 string quartets, more than 60 piano sonatas, and more than 40 piano trios, plus concertos, masses, operas and oratorios.

Not all the above works were composed during his employment with the Esterhazys, because he eventually “escaped” when Prince Nikolaus died in 1790 and his successor, the far less musical Prince Anton, had no need for Haydn’s services. Haydn was then free to travel widely and accept commissions from orchestras all over Europe.

However, the 30 years of isolation that Haydn spent as a court composer on a remote estate meant that, in his own words, he was “forced to be original”. Haydn was able to experiment with forms and ensembles without undue influence from outside, and his later “freedom” enabled him to pass on his knowledge and be a huge influence on his friend Mozart and his pupil Beethoven.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

Mozart (pictured above) was the greatest composer of the Classical era, and many would say of any musical era. Although he died at the age of 35 he produced more than 600 compositions, including 41 numbered symphonies, 27 piano concertos, 22 operas, and a host of string quartets, piano sonatas, sacred music, and much else besides.

He started composing at a very young age, with the earliest works credited to him having been written at the age of five or six, and his first symphony when he was only eight. However, these early works are clearly derivative and not of any great quality. That said, it did not take him long to get into his stride, with the exquisite motet “Exsultate, Jubilate” being written in 1773 at the age of 17 (with 164 other compositions already under his belt, according to the Köchel catalogue!). From this point on, Mozart was clearly a fully mature composer with his own distinct and original style.

One of the most important things to note about Mozart is that his originality, and his dominance of the Classical era, makes it very difficult to state what it is that constitutes “Classicism” without reference to Mozart. If we look at other art forms of this era we can distinguish elements that set a particular work in the classical mould, such as a certain formalism or even stiffness of mood. We can see this in the “Augustan” poetry of Alexander Pope or the neo-classical paintings of Jacques-Louis David.

However, there is little sense of looking back, or of reliance on formality, in the works of Mozart, or even of Haydn. Instead there is enormous energy, coupled with great beauty and even humour, in musical classicism.

One of Mozart’s works that makes this point very clearly is his “A Musical Joke” (K.522) written for two horns and string quartet. This piece is most famous for the final three chords that are often played ad lib but are written as deliberate discords, as though the performers are incompetent. However, the whole piece is a satire on the repetitive formalism apparent in the works of contemporary composers who were clearly way below Mozart and Haydn in terms of writing skill. Many of those works are now lost to us, and their composers forgotten, which is why we do not have a complete view today of what the classical era in music was actually like.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Beethoven counts as the third classical “great” because he provided the bridge between the Classical and Romantic eras. However, he was another truly original composer who cannot be said to typify either Classicism or Romanticism.

Beethoven was a German (of Dutch descent) who spent much of his life in Vienna. He arrived there in 1792 to study under Haydn, shortly after Mozart had died. The influences of these two composers was therefore considerable, although Beethoven did not start to compose as his main occupation until a year or two later.

His early works, such as the first two symphonies (1800 and 1802) and first six string quartets (1798-1800) clearly show the influence of Haydn and Mozart, but he was soon able to develop a style of his own, as is evident from the major change in direction that is usually described as his “middle period”, from 1803 to 1814.

This largely coincided with the beginning of Beethoven’s deafness, which became progressively worse during the rest of his life, and his coming to terms with this condition. He expressed dissatisfaction with his life and work to date and determined to strike out in new ways. For one thing, he now composed more large-scale works that required much larger orchestral forces than had been gathered to date. This was not only because he needed them to make a louder noise that he could hear, but also because he wanted to say new things through his music that spoke of struggle and the overcoming of forces that kept the human spirit in chains.

It is famously recorded that Beethoven originally intended to dedicate his Third Symphony to Napoleon Bonaparte, whom he regarded at first as a liberating force in Europe, but he changed his mind when Napoleon declared himself to be an Emperor and was therefore only interested in personal power. The symphony itself is regarded as both the ultimate mature expression of Classicism and the first example of Romanticism. As his music developed, it became increasingly used as a vehicle for the expression of emotion and feeling. This purpose was not entirely absent from the Classical tradition, particularly in the works of Mozart, but it is the feature that most clearly demonstrates the difference between the two eras.

Beethoven’s later development was very much away from Classicism, and his legacy, to composers such as Brahms and Schubert, was therefore a Romantic one.

Other Composers of the Classical Era

Franz Schubert (1797-1828) shares with Beethoven the accolade of being one of the fathers of Romanticism, although his early works are classical in nature. He was taught composition by Antonio Salieri, a near contemporary of Mozart’s, and was thus imbued with classical forms to which his natural gift for melody was added.

The sons of Johann Sebastian Bach, particularly Carl Philipp Emanuel (1714-88) and Johann Christian (1735-82) were important links between the Baroque and Classical eras.

Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-87) was a notable composer of operas and ballets during the early Classical period.

Muzio Clementi (1752-1832) wrote many piano sonatas in the Classical style but his work looked forward to the Romantic period, as did that of his Irish pupil John Field (1782-1837).

William Boyce (1711-79) is the only English composer of note during this period, although his music harks back to the Baroque style.

© John Welford

Siegfried, by Richard Wagner: a summary of the plot

This is a less than completely reverent summary of the plot of Siegfried, the third of the four operas that comprise Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle

Siegfried

The third part of the Ring Cycle takes place twenty years after the events of Die Valkyrie, or however long they give you between operas at Bayreuth if you're enjoying (or enduring) the whole cycle in one fell swoop.

At the close of Die Valkyrie, Brunnhilde was at the top of a mountain, fenced in by magic flames, and Sieglinde was in possession of Siegmund's broken sword. She has, as Brunnhilde foretold, given birth to a son, named Siegfried, who appears not to have been born with extra fingers or toes, despite his parents being brother and sister. However, Sieglinde died in childbirth, so that's one character fewer for the casting director to worry about.

Act 1. Mime's forge in the forest

Remember Mime? He's the smith who, at the command of Alberich the dwarf, made the ring that all the fuss is about, as well as an invisible cap that enables the wearer to change shape. He has been trying to make a sword for young Siegfried, who is living with Mime and being taught the smith's trade, but none of his efforts have been up to scratch.

Wotan enters and tells Mime that Siegfried will himself make a sword from the fragments of Siegmund's sword, and that it will be invincible. When Siegfried comes home he proceeds to do exactly that. He then tests it on his master's anvil which he cuts in half, which does not sound like a wise career move. All good swords in opera and legend have names, and this one is to be called "Helpneed".

Act 2. The forest in front of the dragon's cave

Another character who has skipped an opera is Fafner, the giant who possesses the Rhine-maidens' gold, the ring and the shape-shifting cap. He now guards the treasure in a cave, having assumed the form of a dragon. Outside the cave we find our old friend Alberich, who still fancies his chances of stealing the gold back again; it was he who stole it in the first place, if you recall. As with a lot of these scenes, Wotan turns up and warns him that a hero is on his way who will defeat everyone he meets.

Siegfried has been told about the dragon by Mime, but he reckons that Fafner will be a good test for his new sword. On the way, the Wood Bird has been singing warnings to him, but he does not understand what she is trying to say. He summons Fafner to a fight and duly kills him. However, a drop of the dragon's blood touches his tongue, and he finds that he can now understand the Wood Bird's warning, which was that Mime is trying to poison him. He therefore kills Mime, takes the ring, and follows the Wood Bird, who leads him towards the mountain where Brunnhilde is awaiting release by a superhero. Siegfried is now wearing the ring that gives him ultimate power and he wields an invincible sword. The lad's got it made, hasn't he?

Act 3 - A mountain pass

Erda, the earth-spirit, has warned Wotan that the gods are doomed, but he determines to do what he can to stop Siegfried. It's no contest, really. Helpneed the sword shatters Wotan's spear, the magic flames die away, and Siegfried gets his girl, although she has to exchange her immortality for the sake of his love.

However, this cannot be the end of the story – there’s still another whole opera in the pipeline!

© John Welford

Die Walkure, by Richard Wagner: a summary of the plot

Die Walkure is the second of the four operas that make up the Ring Cycle, the first being Das Rheingold. A summary of the plot is given here.

Wagner does not tell the whole story on stage, so for a full understanding of what is going on it is necessary to know a little background detail.

Wotan is concerned that the gods are under threat, because they have lost control of the ring made from the Rhine maidens' gold (see Das Rheingold). He has therefore created an elite defence force of Valkyrie, who are warrior maidens whose duty is to convey to Valhalla, on their winged steeds, the bodies of the noblest warriors who have been slain in battle. There they will live again to fight on behalf of the gods.

Oh, and another thing you should know; in the interval since Das Rheingold (probably about half an hour if you're doing the full cycle at Bayreuth) Wotan has begotten two kids of his own, brother and sister Siegmund and Sieglinde, who have grown into adulthood in ignorance of each other's existence.

Act 1. A forest hut, built around the trunk of a giant ash tree

Hunding, a warrior, lives here with his wife Sieglinde, whom he carried away from her home in childhood, against her will. However, a mysterious stranger has promised her that a protector will turn up one day. The stranger has driven a sword, up to its hilt, into the ash tree, and the protector will be the only person who can withdraw it (a touch of the King Arthurs here, methinks).

As the scene opens, Hunding is away and Sieglinde opens the door to an exhausted stranger. This is Siegmund, a mortal enemy of Hunding. When Hunding returns he challenges Siegmund to combat, but grants him hospitality for the night before the fight.

Siegmund and Sieglinde find themselves attracted to each other, and Sieglinde prepares a sleeping draught for Hunding when he retires for the night. As they converse, the pair find out that they are brother and sister, and Siegmund discovers that he can withdraw the sword from the tree trunk. You only get one guess as to who it was who put the sword there in the first place. The couple leave the hut and flee into the forest.

Act 2. A mountain pass

Wotan's master plan had been that his two earth children should meet and mate, but his plan does not meet the approval of Fricka, who is Mrs Wotan. She points out that this is ever so slightly immoral. She gets her way in the argument and Wotan feels constrained to send Brunnhilde, his favourite Valkyrie maiden, to deliver Siegmund to his enemy, Hunding. Brunnhilde does not like the idea but has no choice but to obey, although she also knows that it is not what Wotan really wants.

As the scene opens, Brunnhilde finds the lovers and warns Siegmund of his fate. She finds that she cannot obey Wotan and resolves to shield them at any cost, so when Hunding arrives and engages Siegmund in battle, she protects the latter. However, Wotan himself then turns up and shatters Siegmund's sword. Hunding kills Siegmund, but is himself killed by Wotan. Brunnhilde appreciates that she is in trouble and escapes, taking Sieglinde with her.

Act 3. The haunt of the Valkyries

Brunnhilde begs her sister Valkyrie to protect her from the wrath of Wotan, but they are understandably reluctant to stand up against the mightiest of the gods. They do, however, promise to watch over Sieglinde. Brunnhilde comforts Sieglinde and tells her that she will have a son who will be the greatest of heroes. It would appear that Siegmund and Sieglinde had found something to do to pass the time while waiting for Act 2 to begin. Sieglinde is instructed to look after the pieces of Siegmund's broken sword, which Brunnhilde had presumably collected after the fight with Hunding, but before escaping from Wotan.

When Wotan arrives, he pronounces sentence on Brunnhilde (for doing what he would have done himself had it not been for the missus, remember). After a bit of pleading on Brunnhilde's part, her fate is to be imprisoned on an almost inaccessible mountain peak hedged about by magic flames. She can only be freed by a hero, who will claim her for his bride.

© John Welford

Das Rheingold, by Richard Wagner: a summary of the plot

This is a summary of the plot of Richard Wagner’s scene-setting first opera of The Ring Cycle. Das Rheingold was first performed in Munich in 1869.

Das Rheingold

Das Rheingold is the first of the four operas that comprise Der Ring des Nibelungen, usually referred to as the Ring Cycle. Wagner based the story on a number of Scandinavian and Norse myths, and disentangling his sources has provided many a scholar with material for a PhD. The operas, which took 26 years to complete, are often performed separately, but the full story is only appreciated by seeing all four, although some of the necessary narrative is not presented on stage. The basic idea, of a magic ring that gives awesome power to the wearer, but which must eventually be destroyed, will be familiar to any reader of Tolkien's "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings", and the coincidence is not entirely accidental.

Act 1.  The River Rhine (not on it, but in it!)

Suspension of disbelief is required right from the start, as we are on the bed of the river and the characters are still able to sing! The three Rhine-maidens guard a quantity of gold that has the power to give the owner boundless power, the only snag being that he or she must forswear love for ever. Alberich the dwarf has his eye on the gold, and he manages to trick the maidens into telling him its secret. He likes the idea of being master of the world and is not too bothered about the loss of a love life, so he steals the gold and makes off with it.

Act 2. The gardens of Valhalla, the home of the gods (a bit of a challenge for the scene shifters)

The giants Fasolt and Fafner have built Valhalla for the gods, and it is time to be paid. The deal, worked out by Loki, god of fire, with Wotan, the chief god, is that the price is Freya, the goddess of love. When the giants carry her off the flowers wither and die, the trees refuse to bear fruit, and the gods start to grow old. There is only one thing to be done, which is that the giants must be bought off with, you guessed it, the magic gold, which is now guarded by the dwarves deep underground. Wotan and Loki set off to find it.

Act 3. The cavern of the dwarves

Alberich is guarding the gold with great care. He has used some of the gold to make a ring which gives him power over both gods and men. He has also commanded Mime the smith to make him an invisible cap that enables him to assume any shape he pleases. When Wotan and Loki turn up, he boastingly shows off his powers by turning himself into, firstly, a dragon and then, at Loki's suggestion, a toad (another challenge of staging!). Loki captures the toad and refuses to release him until he has given up all his treasures, including the cap and the ring. Alberich, however, puts a curse on anyone who subsequently wears the ring.

Act 4. Valhalla

Wotan and Loki return in triumph with the treasure and summon Fasolt and Fafner to meet them. The giants bring Freya along and the gold is presented to them, although Wotan secretly hopes to keep hold of the cap and the ring. However, the giants demand these as well, and threaten to carry Freya off with them again. Wotan has no choice but to yield, but he foresees dire consequences. The curse of the ring does not take long to show itself, as the giants immediately quarrel between themselves and Fafner kills Fasolt. The opera ends with the gods crossing a rainbow bridge into their palace and the Rhine-maidens are heard lamenting their loss.

© John Welford