Songs and Dances of Love: March 25, 2017
Johannes Brahms
(Born in Hamburg in 1833; died in Vienna in 1897)
Liebeslieder walzen, Op. 52
1. Rede, Mädchen (“Speak, Maiden”)
2. Am Gesteine rauscht die Flut (“Against the stones the stream rushes”)
3. O die Frauen (“Oh, women”)
4. Wie des Abends schöne Röte (“Like the evening’s lovely red”)
5. Die grüne Hopfenranke (“The green hop’s vine”)
6. Ein kleiner, hübscher Vogel (“A small, pretty bird”)
7. Wohl schön bewandt war es (“Quite fair and contented”)
8. Wenn so lind dein Auge mir (“When your eyes look at me”)
9. Am Donaustrande (“On the banks of the Danube”)
10. O wie sanft die Quelle (“Oh how gently the stream”)
11. Nein, es ist nicht auszukommen (“No, there’s just no getting along”)
12. Schlosser auf, und mache Schlösser (“Locksmith, get up and make your locks”)
13. Vögelein durchrauscht die Luft (“The little bird rushes through the air”)
14. Sieh, wie ist die Welle klar (“See how clear the waves are”)
15. Nachtigall, sie singt so schön (“The nightingale, it sings so beautifully”)
16. Ein dunkeler Schacht ist Liebe (“Love is a dark shaft”)
17. Nicht wandle, mein Licht (“Do not wander, my light”)
18. Es bebet das Gesträuche (“The bushes are trembling”)
In the first years after Brahms settled in Vienna, he quickly became appreciative of a new and very Viennese (and European bourgeois) musical fashion – Hausmusik. No longer was music just for the very rich, but indeed, the rise of a healthy middle class made music a household necessity. Young ladies, in order to be at all eligible for marriage, needed to know how to read music, sing and play the piano. But music in the house wasn’t just for young ladies. All manner of parlor works were written as well as re-arranged from larger works like symphonies, solely for the enjoyment of music lovers in their homes. For many a composer it was a cash cow. Brahms, not above the need for money, discreetly cashed in on this Hausmusik phenomenon with the young lady singer-pianist in mind, first and famously with his Hungarian Dances (1869), and then in the same year with his delightful Liebeslieder walzen (of which, over a few years, he composed several sets, Op. 52 being essentially his first).
Brahms’s Liebeslieder walzen (Love song waltzes) were inspired during a project of editing a batch of Schubert’s works, several groups of landlers, which are the waltzes especially loved by the Viennese. Also a model were the Spanische Liebeslieder (1849) by Schumann, Brahms’s fraternal mentor. No less an influence, too, were the delightful waltzes by Johann Strauss II (the Viennese “Waltz King”), which Brahms appreciated for their perfect form and delicious tunefulness. It’s often suggested that Brahms’s Love song waltzes were intended as a musical flirtation for Julie Schumann, the daughter of Robert and Clara Schumann. But as always, Brahms was much too discreet to have made this a public affair. What matters is that the waltzes are enchanting. As Brahms’s biographer Jan Swafford calls them, these are musical “Schlagsahne” (whipped cream).
The 18 waltzes are indeed confections, but they are certainly not trifles. They assume the ballroom dress of society waltzes, but Brahms doesn’t spare his genius on them. Even as early as the first waltz, the main theme is eventually turned upside down. Especially delightful are the rich harmonies and contrasts that appear in numbers 5, 6 and 7. A lovely homage to Strauss’s “The Beautiful Danube” is undeniable in number 9. Throughout, Brahms’s inventiveness for both tunefulness and sophisticated compositional craftsmanship make these love songs little wonders. Brahms had originally written them as “one-offs” – single sheet works for the parlor, for piano (four hands) and varying small groups of singers. The lyrics came from a large set of poetic translations from various cultures by the philosopher and poet Georg Friedrich Daumer (1800 – 1875). The songs range from giddy young love to broken heartache, but they are all quite lighthearted. Brahms, too, keeps the melodic themes light but infuses them with his typical soulfulness. The waltzes were immediately adored, and brought Brahms a sure amount of early fame and fortune; they have remained a cherished part of the chamber music repertoire. This arrangement for strings was first transcribed by Friedrich Hermann in 1889 and it has been loved ever since. In any arrangement, these love songs’ beauties are rich and genuine Brahms.
Edward Elgar
(Born in Lower Broadheath, England in 1857; died in Worcester, England in 1934)
Serenade in E-minor for String Orchestra, Op. 20
1. Allegro placevole
2. Larghetto
3. Allegretto
Elgar was the quintessential underdog, and as such, his masterpieces make us all the more glad that he finally achieved his rightful praise. He was a self-taught composer, learning his craft by borrowing books on counterpoint and harmony from the library in his small hometown of Broadheath. He was an accomplished violinist but also played the organ and bassoon and viola (and other instruments), and it was upon these instruments that he relied to make a living for many years as a private music teacher. He also picked up conducting and freelanced as a conductor in some of the most obscure places (such as the County and City Pauper Lunatic Asylum) for many, many years. His beloved wife, Alice, was his greatest champion and brought Elgar through some severe bouts of low self-esteem and depression. Had it not been for her constant support, Elgar may have never persevered to write some of Western music’s most beloved pieces.
His lovely Serenade was written in 1892 and is Elgar’s earliest piece to eventually become well known, although it took another six-and-a-half years for this now middle-aged British musician to find any fame as a composer with his Enigma Variations (1899). The Serenade was written “in the musical trenches,” as Elgar crafted out a patchwork living by teaching, performing and conducting. He also credited some of the piece’s material to his wife, Alice, by marking in the score in several places “Braut” (his German nickname for her, meaning “bride”). The success of his Enigma Variations, his Violin Concerto and other masterpieces eventually, and finally, landed him fame and security, But it was this Serenade that he always referred to as his favorite piece, and any listener will quickly understand his devotion. Here is Elgar at his lyrical best and at the very beginning of a long line of beautifully elegiac masterpieces for which he would become famous.
The first movement is marked a curious “placevole” which means “pleasing.” Indeed, its quietly propelling main rhythm and the rising and falling melody is pleasantly nostalgic and cheery – so wonderfully British. The middle movement is romantically and harmonically rich, capturing a kind of enlightened melancholy that only Elgar seemed to be able to conjure. The third movement rounds out the Serenade with delicate charm, perfectly moving from the deep beauty of the middle movement into a musing on the work’s placevole beginning, and lastly, closing in gentle contentment. Elgar was one of the first composers to seriously use the beginning technologies of sound recording, and fittingly, in 1933 a year before his death, he made a recording which included his beloved Serenade.
Ney Rosauro
(Born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in 1952)
Marimba Concerto No. 1, Op. 12
1. Saudação (Greetings)
2. Lamento (Lament)
3. Dança (Dance)
4. Despedida (Farewell)
According to his own website, Ney Rosauro “… is recognized as one of the most original and dynamic symphonic percussionists and composers today.” He studied in Brazil, Germany and Florida, and in his professional career has performed the world over as both a marimba virtuoso and as a timpanist/percussionist, along with composing over 100 works. He became especially recognized, however, with his wonderful Marimba Concerto No. 1 (1987) when another famous percussionist, Evelyn Glennie, recorded it with the London Symphony Orchestra in 1990. Since then, this Concerto has become probably the most widely performed marimba concerto in the world.
The marimba is a tuned percussion instrument with tubes underneath the pitched bars to enhance resonance. It became a prominent solo instrument in the late 1970’s when composers began recognizing its exceptional versatility – from its ability to sound like an organ with sustained, humming chords, the fact that it could be played like a piano with both melody and harmony, concurrently, as well as its potential for complex rhythms and extended range of notes (typically 4-1/3 octaves). All of this became especially possible with the introduction of playing with four (and occasionally more) mallets simultaneously. Rosauro, though, was the one of the first composers to really exploit the marimba’s four-mallet capabilities in a symphonic concerto form. His Concerto No. 1 does this marvelously and uses all the instrument’s possibilities superbly, taking care to not only showcase the soloist with virtuosic leaps from one end of the large instrument to the other and dazzling mallet work, but to showcase the instrument’s beauty. The Concerto was begun as a Master’s thesis while Rosauro was studying in Germany. In that year, his son Marcelo was born, and it’s fitting, with the Concerto’s energy and life-affirmingness, that Rosauro dedicated it to his newborn son.
As a Brazilian, Rosauro understandably uses Brazilian motives for the subtitles of his Concerto‘s four movements and as their inspirations. The first movement maintains a near-perpetual-motion kind of incessancy, with lots of wonderful moments for the soloist to make some jazzy melodic runs – it’s infectious and fun. The second movement explores the marimba’s soulful, organ-like timbres and includes some lovely duets between soloist and orchestra (especially the first violin). The third movement is called a dance, but it begins with a lovely cantabile section that features some fun mallet work, before becoming truly quick-footed and virtuosic, then closing in song. The finale is again a driving movement, jazzy and somewhat Brazilian in flavor, with a delightfully catchy tune, changing meters and virtuosity aplenty. The fervor leads up to a cadenza that is as much about fancy mallet work as it is wrapping up the musical narrative of the Concerto, musing with the various themes of the earlier movements. The work then ends in a fiery-quick blaze of virtuosity.
© Max Derrickson
