CZECH IT OUT - May 19, 2018 - Friends of Music

Charles-François Gounod
(Born in Paris in 1818; died in Saint-Cloud, France in 1893)

Petite Symphony, Op. 216

1. Adagio – Allegretto
2. Andante cantabile
3. Scherzo – Allegro moderato
4. Finale – Allegretto

French composer Charles Gounod is mainly remembered today as an opera composer. Indeed, in his day (the second half of the 19th Century) he and Richard Wagner were Verdi’s chief opera rivals. For example, when Verdi was reluctant to accept the commission for Äida from the new Cairo Opera House in 1871, the producers goaded him into action by threatening to ask Gounod to write it instead. Gounod’s Faust, written in 1859, was so popular the world over that when New York’s Metropolitan Opera House opened its doors in 1883, Faust was its obvious inaugural choice.

But Gounod wrote more than operas, and he brought his superlative operatic gifts of lyricism to these other genres. These gifts are on full display in his ever-popular Petite Symphony for Winds.

The story behind this work is as follows. Wind octet music (known as Harmoniemusik) was all the rage in Europe, and especially in Paris, in the late 18th Century. Mozart’s wind serenades set the bar for this music and the taste for it remained strong for many years. So beloved was this tradition that in 1879 the famous Parisian teacher and flutist, Paul Taffanel (1844-1908), founded the Société de musique de chambre pour instruments à vent (Society of Chamber Music for Wind Instruments). For an important wind concert series coming up in 1885, Taffanel contacted his friend, Gounod, to write a wind piece for his group. Since Gounod had been bewitched into music as a career by hearing Mozart, he created a Harmoniemusik-Mozart-like work for Taffanel’s group. This was to be a wind serenade for double octet (two clarinets, two oboes, two horns, and two bassoons) with a slight twist: he gave his flutist friend Taffanel a solo flute part, fashioned the work as a kind of Flute Concertante, and called it his Petite Symphony for Winds. This work’s premiere in 1885 was extremely well received and the work has equally delighted audiences ever since.

Unlike the Mozart model, which would have been a series of generally unrelated movements meant to entertain as “background music” to outdoor social functions, Gounod crafted a miniature symphony, as his title suggests. Like Mozart, and Haydn, Gounod begins with a serious and slow symphonic introduction right away, capturing the lush sonorities of the octet’s beautiful combination of instruments. As the movement flows, the flute takes the lead role.

The very operatic-like second movement, cantabile (“singing”), is a gorgeous aria for flute, and it serves as the slow/song movement in Gounod’s little symphony. The scherzo third movement suggests it might become a Beethoven symphonic movement, but instead Gounod cleverly creates a Renaissance-like hunting romp (what was once called a chasse) led by the two horns. The finale, Allegretto, is a magical conclusion to the work. Gounod brings everyone together, giving solos to each of the instrumental pairs and especially not forgetting the flute, combining the sonorities of the ensemble into rich sounds, and driving the work to its fine, urbane finale with a gentle, rhythmic drive.

Leoš Janáček
(Born in Hukvaldy, Moravia (now Czech Republic) in 1854; died in Morava-Ostrava in 1928)

“Mládí” (Youth) Suite for Wind Instruments

1. Allegro
2. Andante sostenuto
3. Vivace
4. Allegro animato

Though his early works were deeply influenced by his colleague Dvořák’s Romantic style, Janáček’s later intensive studies of Moravian-Czech folk music resulted in a unique change to the way he composed near the middle of his life. Armed with an extraordinary ear for folksong and speech inflections, Janáček began basing his melodies not only on melodic contours, but on the Czech language’s distinct speech patterns, which Janáček called “speech tunes.” He first used these techniques in his operas, and indeed, it is in them that he first gained world fame in 1904 with his opera Jenůfa.

In the last and most prolific decade of his life Janáček wrote his most successful and iconic opera, The Cunning Little Vixen (1924). Here, he fully fleshed out his prosody-plus-folksong experiments, culminating in a uniquely tonal but modern sound that he made his own. That same year, 1924, he was turning 70. A biography was in the works and he began collecting memorabilia. In the process of this, he reflected often on his studies as a choirboy and organist at the Augustine Monastery, St. Thomas’ Abbey, in Brno (Moravia, now the Czech Republic), and he grew nostalgic for those spirited boyhood days. Influenced by Dvořák’s famous Serenade (Op. 44), he composed his Mládí (Youth) Suite for wind sextet: flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, bassoon and bass clarinet. This was a musical remembrance of a day in his young life at the Brno Monastery some five decades earlier, and again, his “speech tunes” played a prominent part in this splendid work.

The first movement Allegro features a jumpy and bustling accompaniment under a theme first played by the oboe. That theme is said to be the “speech tune” of the Czech sighing lament, “Mládí, zlaté mládí!” (“Youth, golden youth!”). The electricity that runs through this movement charmingly evokes hyper-wiggly young students. Especially entertaining is the musical grumbling of the bassoon and the bass clarinet.

The Andante alternates between a touching lament and a fracturing of short musical themes. Janáček called these bits of hurling motives “sčasovka.” This word doesn’t easily translate but Janáček scholar John Tyrrell characterizes these passages as “little musical … capsule[s], which Janáček often used in slow music as tiny swift motifs with remarkably characteristic rhythms that are supposed to pepper the musical flow.” It’s a marvelous technique singular to Janáček’s music.

The third movement, Vivace, recalls the Blue Boys of the Old Brno Monastery, a group of lads who marched through the grounds doing their various chores while merrily whistling. Janáček recreates the beloved scene with piccolo and a very sprightly accompaniment, which also suggests a bit of the Blue Boys’ mischief. A very sweet interlude graces the movement’s central portion.

The finale wraps up this delightful Suite by recalling the Mládí motif from the beginning movement, but here sung over a cleverly motoric accompaniment from the horn and bass clarinet. Janáček introduces a few new themes, with one regal theme in particular led by the horn eliciting feelings of grandness – no doubt the composer’s recollections of great musical moments as a chorister. The virtuosic elements in this movement are plenty, and the ending bars satisfyingly exciting.

Antonin Dvořák
(Born in Nelahozeves, Bohemia (now Czech Republic) in 1841; died in Prague in 1904)

Serenade for Winds in D minor, Op. 44

1. Moderato, quasi marcia
2. Menuetto
3. Andante con moto
4. Allegro molto

We have Johannes Brahms to thank for helping launch Dvořák’s career. In 1878, Brahms was a judge in a composition contest that awarded Dvořák honors as a contestant. Brahms then continued to champion the young Czech composer, and he helped him land his first publishing contract. That first contract required of Dvořák a Symphony, which we know now as No. 5, and several other works, including a Serenade for wind instruments.

It was Dvořák’s idea to add the horns and strings to the Serenade he’d been contracted to write. He completed the Serenade in 1879 and it was instantly popular, “introducing” Dvořák to the world at his best with beautiful melodies, luscious harmonies and youthful inventiveness. That he chose to write this Serenade for a specific set of winds (2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, and three horns) plus a cello and a bass, while omitting the flute, reveals Dvořák’s intentions: this was to be a uniquely Czech-sounding work hued in darkly rich sonorities. Its charms have lasted more than a century, but its influence was nearly immediate, especially on his compatriot, Leoš Janáček.

The first movement “marcia” (march) begins with delightfully rustic and satirically pompous dotted rhythmic patterns that harken back to the famous European/Czech village wind bands (called Harmoniemusik), but ends with pastoral warmth. The second movement’s lovely Menuetto uses two well-loved Czech folk dances: the easy-going sousedská (or, neighbor’s dance, with a rustic melody), which is then contrasted with a high-energy and virtuosic trio section shaped after the furiant (a dance form Dvořák would return to many times throughout his career).

The third movement, Andante, is a marvel of imagination and freshness. A set of variations are fashioned upon a deeply sensuous theme, which is itself juxtaposed over a jaunty and syncopated little horn and wind rhythm. Though Dvořák uses his rich instrumental sonorities to create some tensely dark moments, the surprisingly unsullied effect is a feeling of sheer contentment. The final movement, Allegro molto, is a stout rondo with a kind of urgent glee that arrives to giftwrap this masterpiece. Dvořák delivers some of his finest romping tunes here and reintroduces themes from the first movement to give the piece an overall balance. The concluding coda is a thrilling and immensely fun dash to the finish, with whirling winds and fanfaring horns.