William Crotch: Britain's answer to Mozart

William Crotch was a musical genius who might have become a British version of Mozart, had his talents for composition matched his undoubted ability as a performer. One thing the two certainly had in common was early promise.

William Crotch was born in Norwich, Norfolk, in 1775. His father was a carpenter who was keen on music and who built himself a pipe organ. Young William showed an interest in this instrument from as young as 18 months. At two years old he was able to play “God Save the King” and from the age of four he gave regular organ recitals in London. By the age of seven he was also a proficient violinist.

At eleven he was pupil-assistant to the organist of King’s and Trinity Colleges, Cambridge and at 14 he had an oratorio of his performed in the city. At 15 he was the organist of Christ Church, Oxford and at 22 he was the Professor of Music. He later became Principal of the Royal Academy of Music in London.

But his prodigious early talents did not extend to originality in terms of his compositions, which were no better nor worse than those of his contemporaries. Although he wrote a considerable amount that was popular at the time, particularly oratorios and other church music, none of it was of a standard that would secure immortality.

William Crotch had a much longer life than that of Mozart, who died at the age of 35. Crotch died in 1847 at the age of 72, fated to be forgotten by everyone except the music-lovers of his own generation.

© John Welford

Mozart`s Requiem and a wily Count

The final work by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, his Requiem in D Minor composed in 1791, is widely regarded as being among his finest, despite the fact that it was left incomplete at his death.

Mozart only completed the Introit and Kyrie, although he had done enough work on most of the other sections for them to be completed by his pupil Franz Xaver Sussmayr, who also wrote the Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei based on little more than general ideas gleaned from conversations with Mozart.

Stories have arisen over the years concerning the reasons behind Mozart writing this work. Some have wondered if Mozart knew that he was dying and that he was writing the work as his own Requiem.

However, it is generally accepted that Mozart was working to a commission brought to him by a messenger who refused to tell him who the message was from. All Mozart knew was that he would be paid well and that the Requiem was to commemorate the loss of a loved one.

It is now known that the commissioner was Count Franz von Walsegg and that the loved one was his wife Anna, who had died not long before.

But why the secrecy? This was because the Count was a bit of a con-artist. He like to pretend that he was a great composer who would have works played in his own home that he claimed to have written himself although this was never the case. It says something about his character that he would even play this game when the work was a Requiem for his own dead wife.

As it happened, Count Franz did not get away with it on this occasion. By the time that the completed work was delivered to him and he was able to get it performed at his home it had already been performed in public – the completed parts were heard only five days after Mozart’s death at a memorial service for the composer, and the whole Requiem was performed in Vienna at a benefit concert for Mozart’s widow Constanze.

At least Count Franz was honest enough to pay the agreed fee for the work. That was the reason why cash-strapped Constanze had been so keen to get Sussmayr to finish what her husband had started. Music lovers ever since have had cause to be grateful to all those concerned, including the rascally Count Franz.

© John Welford

Schubert's 8th Symphony: The Unfinished

The Austrian composer Franz Schubert (1797-1828) wrote nine symphonies during his 31 years, or should that be eight-and-a-half? The question mark is there because his 8th Symphony comprises only two movements, although they are among the best pieces he ever wrote.

This was no means his final composition. The 8^th Symphony, in B Minor, was started in 1822 and the two movements were fully scored for orchestra. He also wrote a third movement, a scherzo, but only in piano score, with just the first two pages completed for orchestra. There is no trace of a final movement.

Schubert was a prolific composer who continued to write until shortly before his death. The completed pieces include his magnificent 9^th Symphony in C Major, which has long been known as “The Great”.

So why was the 8^th Symphony never completed? Or was it?

There are several mysteries about the symphony that have never been solved. One of them is that it is known that Schubert gave the incomplete score to a friend in 1823, and the friend did not reveal its existence until 23 years after Schubert’s death. Why was this? And why were several pages torn from the scherzo at some time before it was eventually brought to light? What was on those missing pages?

Could it be that Schubert did in fact complete the symphony but the pages have been lost? Might it be that Schubert ran out of inspiration and could not think how to finish it? Did he just get bored by it when he was caught by the next musical idea which he simply had to turn his attention to while it was fresh in his mind?

Like so many past mysteries, we shall almost certainly never know!

© John Welford

Movements in music

Movements are divisions of larger pieces of music into sections, usually (but not always) marked by a pause in the performance. Works are that most often described as having movements are symphonies, concerti, sonatas and chamber pieces such as trios and quartets. However, it is also possible to use the term for the separate elements of suites, masses, sets of variations, and various kinds of program music. The divisions of operas and ballets are normally described as acts and scenes, thus reflecting their relationship with the theatre rather than the concert hall.

Independence

Movements are frequently seen as having a degree of independence from the work to which they belong. Classical music radio stations, such as the UK’s commercial station Classic FM, play separate movements more often than full symphonies, etc, and many listeners are often unaware of how they relate to the complete work. There are indeed some movements that are so famous in their own right that they have virtually left home – examples include Widor’s Toccata, which is actually the final movement of his Symphony for Organ No. 5, and the brilliant scherzo by Henry Litolff that is the 2^nd movement of his Concerto Symphonique No. 4. In both cases, the vast majority of music listeners have not heard a single note, other than these movements, that was written by the composers in question.   

First movement sonata form

It is not easy to generalise, but the standard symphonic (etc) first movement follows what is known as sonata form. That is, it has three sections, namely exposition, development and recapitulation. In other words, the theme or themes are presented at the outset, they are developed in various ways, and repeated in some form or other at the end. However, that statement is a huge over-simplification! For example, many movements include material at the beginning or end that falls outside this pattern, generally referred to as introductions and codas, and transitional passages that link the various parts together. There is also no rule that states that all the themes must be introduced at the beginning, or indeed how many themes there should be.

Another aspect of sonata form is the use of key structures within the movement. It is typical for the first and second themes to be in different keys, with changes from major to minor, or vice versa, modulated via a transitional passage. It is also common for the development to start in the same key as the exposition ended, and for the recapitulation to return to the keys used at the start of the exposition. However, great composers are adept at bending the rules to achieve their effects, and it is their originality in these and other matters that makes them great.

Second movements

Whereas first movements are usually fairly brisk in pace (allegro), second movements are often much slower (adagio or andante), and sonata form is not expected. Second movements are commonly referred to as slow movements, although this is a relative term. A good slow movement can indeed be “moving” and emotional, sometimes comprising a single long tune that develops more from subtle key changes than from the introduction of secondary themes. There is no rule that states that a second or subsequent movement must relate directly to the opening movement, but often this is the case.

Third movements

Symphonic structure has changed over the centuries, such that from the 18^th century it became common practice for symphonies, sonatas and quartets (etc) to comprise four movements, whereas concerti only had three. The “extra” third movement was typically a minuet and trio or a scherzo. A minuet is basically a dance in triple time, and a trio has a simple three-part structure of two contrasting sections with the third part being a repetition of the first.  The word “scherzo” literally means “joke”, and is generally a relatively playful and light-hearted section, in the nature of a fast minuet.

Final movements

Final movements are the opportunity for the composer to pull everything together and build towards a climax that will inspire the audience to break into loud and prolonged applause. That at least has been the pattern since the Romantic era, and there is plenty of choice for the concert planner who wants to end the evening on a high. Sonata form is common for final movements, as are long and complex codas that allow the performers a final flourish. In concerti, the soloist can give it their all to earn their bouquet!

Cadenzas

One special feature of movements in concerti is the cadenza. This is a passage in which the soloist (or soloists in double concerti, etc) plays on their own with the orchestra silent and the conductor at rest. In earlier times, it was usual for the soloist to improvise at these points, and this often gave rise to problems when they would soar off on flights of fancy of their own, sometimes having great difficulty in returning to where they started from. This practice has faded since the Classical period ended, with most cadenzas being written by the composer, although the soloist still has the opportunity to show his/her individualism in how they interpret the tempo of the piece, etc. It is noticeable that some modern performers have re-invented the improvised cadenza in performances of works by, for example, Vivaldi. Nigel Kennedy’s highly acclaimed interpretation of The Four Seasons is a case in point.

As stated above, it is not easy to be hard-and-fast when describing what movements look and sound like. There are so many variations on the theme that generalisations are bound to accompanied by hosts of exceptions!

© John Welford