Duets and Trio, Kalliwoda, Bach/David, Beethoven

Following along on the theme of catching up on my blog, I'm going to combine parts of two different sessions, so that I can talk about a couple of themes: smaller groups, and arrangements.

First, continuing my obsession with Kalliwoda, I got to play the first of his two violin-viola duets, the Op. 208, No. 1 in C major.   There's a blog post about these two duets here, and I have to say, I agree: wonderful pieces.  Kalliwoda has a gift for melody, I think, and his writing is technically gratifying for both instruments.  Maybe he does love double-stops a bit too much, but he writes them so cleverly that I forgive him.  And he does manage to get a full, rich sound out of only two instruments!

In that same session, we played about half of the Ferdinand David transcription for violin and viola of the Bach Two-Part Inventions.  You can hear three of them here.  I think they work remarkably well, particularly the famous F major No. 8.  I'm eager to play more of David's transcriptions.  And maybe even add his string quartet to my list of quartets by obscure composers to play (not that that list needs more entries!)

I suppose this is a good place to discuss my feelings about arrangements and transcriptions.  I'm in favor of them, as long as they're done with a real understanding of the instruments being transcribed for.   I don't like, for example, to play a string quartet with a flute taking over the first violin part.  But something like the Bach transcriptions by David, an expert violinist (he premiered the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto) can work really well.

On a separate occasion, waiting for a tardy cellist for a session of string quartets, I got to play another transcription, this time the first movement of Beethoven's Op. 87 Trio for Two Oboes and English Horn, in the Henle edition for two violins and viola, prepared by Egon Voss.  It's unclear whether the string version is Beethoven's or not, but he at least approved it.  And it's delightful: notwithstanding the high opus number, this is a very early work, and I have a particular fondness for Beethoven's earliest music.  Another example of a transcription working very well!  You can listen to the original version here, and the transcription here, and form your own opinion.

Viola quintets: Mendelssohn Op. 18 and Mozart K515

Last night was another session of viola quintets at my house.  I know I've been playing a lot of viola quintets, but if I want to play with violists without switching to violin myself, that's pretty much what I have to do. :-)  It's unfortunate that there are many fewer quintets than quartets, since some of the great quartet composers didn't write quintets (Haydn, Bartok, Shostakovich), and some of the quintets of great composers are unaccountably neglected (I can't imagine why people don't play Beethoven's Op. 29!)  But there are enough wonderful works to keep me occupied for quite a while.

We started with a seldom-played work, the first Mendelssohn quintet, the Op. 18 in A major.   I don't really understand why this piece is neglected, but then, one of my gifts (?) as a chamber musician is that I like practically everything.  Perhaps this pieces is a little heavily weighted towards the first violin, but our wonderful first violinist had worked up the part so that it was a pleasure to hear.   Actually, it was a great group, top to bottom!

We then did three movements of the Mozart K515 Quintet in C major, before running out of energy.  K515 is definitely an example of Mozart not being in a hurry!  The first movement is very long; you feel like you've been playing forever when you reach the exposition repeat, and realize you're not even half done.  The minuet and trio is rather sedate, and the slow movement is also lengthy: it needs to be, to fit in all the thirty-second notes in the beautiful duet between the first violin and first viola.  I'd chosen to play second viola on this pieces, and I was happy to have done so: the other violist played so beautifully that it was a pleasure to let her be in the driver's seat.

I had a special reason for wanting to play this work: it was the birthday of one of the violinists, and I had done a setting of Happy Birthday in the style of Mozart, modeled after the opening bars of the first movement of this quintet.  That went over well, but perhaps the birthday cake was appreciated even more. :-)

Haydn Op. 51: "The Seven Last Words of Christ"

I'm sorry about the long delay between blog posts.  As I wrote last time, I was on vacation.  And then I got sick.  And then work heated up.  I did manage to play chamber music in the intervening time, so I have some catching up to do.  So bear with me. :-)

As you know, I've been working on a project to play all of the Haydn string quartets.  One of the questions I had in this project was, "what to do about The Seven Last Words?" The string quartet version isn't considered as part of the canonical 68 string quartets Haydn wrote, but still, I had an interest in playing it.

Then I learned that this year the company I work for was going to give us two new holidays, one of which was euphemistically called "Spring Holiday", the algorithm for which was "the Friday before Easter".  I'm not religious, but I figured that Good Friday would be the perfect day to play the Seven Last Words.

Then I got email from Musical Deliveries, a volunteer organization in the Boston area who helps connect chamber groups with nursing homes to perform in.  This was the final piece in the puzzle: I got together a willing string quartet, and we played at a local Catholic-run nursing home on the afternoon of Good Friday.

It was my first chamber music performance since I started playing again, and it wasn't as scary as I had thought it would be.  It was interesting to see just what happened in performance that never happened in rehearsal.  And I think by and large the audience was appreciative, although the piece is rather long (nearly an hour!)

And the Seven Last Words is very different from Haydn's other string quartets.  Formally, of course: eight slow movements in a row!  But also because there's no attempt at equality of parts: it's really a solo for the first violin with string trio accompaniment.  But we had a wonderful first violinist, so that all worked out.

Here are the program notes I wrote for our performance.  Not my best writing, but it gives the basic outline of the story.

The Seven Last Words of Christ was originally an orchestral work by Joseph Haydn, commissioned in 1785 or 1786 for the Good Friday service at Cádiz Cathedral in Spain.  The composer adapted it in 1787 for string quartet, and it is that version that is most often heard today. 

Haydn, a devout Catholic, created a particularly beautiful work, capturing the different haloes of meaning around the seven utterances, and weaving a story told entirely in music.   The texture tends to be simple, usually a first violin melody with the other three instruments accompanying, and Haydn is able to show his gift for melody.  Interestingly, even though the piece was conceived without voices, the first violin line of each of the seven sonatas follows the rhythm of the “word” in question: this is indicated in the score and in the first violin part.

One example of Haydn’s compositional care evident in the Seven Last Words: at the nadir of the piece, Sonata IV (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?), Haydn chooses the key of F minor, described in a text from the period as expressing “deep depression, funereal lament, groans of misery and longing for the grave.” 

Haydn himself wrote about the origin of this work:

Some fifteen years ago I was requested by a canon of Cádiz to compose instrumental music on the Seven Last Words of Our Savior On the Cross. It was customary at the Cathedral of Cádiz to produce an oratorio every year during Lent, the effect of the performance being not a little enhanced by the following circumstances. The walls, windows, and pillars of the church were hung with black cloth, and only one large lamp hanging from the center of the roof broke the solemn darkness. At midday, the doors were closed and the ceremony began. After a short service the bishop ascended the pulpit, pronounced the first of the seven words (or sentences) and delivered a discourse thereon. This ended, he left the pulpit and fell to his knees before the altar. The interval was filled by music. The bishop then in like manner pronounced the second word, then the third, and so on, the orchestra following on the conclusion of each discourse. My composition was subject to these conditions, and it was no easy task to compose seven adagios lasting ten minutes each, and to succeed one another without fatiguing the listeners; indeed, I found it quite impossible to confine myself to the appointed limits.

Haydn wrote with his usual modesty here;  his only failure to “confine [himself] to the appointed limits” is in adding the final movement, a Presto representing the earthquake that opened Christ’s tomb.  If this movement doesn’t quite fit with the mood of the rest of the piece, perhaps Haydn can be forgiven.

This was a positive experience, overall.  I know I'm not a performer by nature, but I shouldn't avoid performing at all costs.  And at least I can say that I've played Haydn's Seven Last Words!