Reeds in the Wind

Double-reed wind instruments (where the instrument's sound is produced by two carved reeds vibrating against each other) have been around since antiquity; pictures of such instruments date back to 3,000 BC. They were the most highly regarded musical instruments in ancient Greece and Rome, with players receiving high social standing and enjoying great popularity and many privileges.

A wide variety of instruments using this sound production method derived from these ancient origins: bombards, crumhorns, dolcians and even bagpipes (all members of the shawm family). During the 17th century the treble shawm evolved into the hoboy or hautboy (or in French, the hautbois; and finally in English, the oboe), and by the late 1600s the oboe became a standard member of orchestras. From that point on the oboe flourished, its heyday lasting until the end of the 18th century.

As an orchestra member, oboes were initially used mainly to double the violins, although by the Classical period they had asserted themselves and were performing functions of their own. In the opera orchestra they were given their first solo roles (obligatos) in arias. The instrument’s repertoire expanded in the beginning of the 18th century with countless solo sonatas, suites, trios and concertos. And the oboe has held its place through the 19th and 20th centuries as an integral and prominent voice in orchestral music.

All is bringing us to our music selections for today . . .

The year 1849 was one of the most productive years for composer Robert Schumann. In addition to works for solo piano, chorus, and solo voice, Schumann turned his attention to three wind instruments in chamber music settings: the Three Fantasy Pieces for clarinet and piano, the Adagio and Allegro for horn and piano, and the Three Romances for oboe and piano. The Three Romances for oboe were given to his wife, Clara Schumann-Wieck as a Christmas present that year. Though these beautiful pieces do not require a high degree of overt virtuosity, they do demand expert breath-control to bring across their long, lyrical melodies and convey Schumann’s feel for the emotional tone of the oboe.

Here's the first of Schumann's Three Romances performed by Céline Moinet (oboe) and Florian Uhlig (piano)

And if you have time to sit back for 20 minutes, the same lyricism and melancholy that imbues the Schumann Romances is also found in the Oboe Concerto by Bohuslav Martinů, a work written in 1955. The slow movement is an especial favorite of mine.

Bohuslav Martinů: Oboe Concerto (1955)
Diana Danielian (oboe), St. Petersburg State Symphony Orchestra, Alexander Titov (conductor)

 

Looking ahead to when we can play together again

According to Merriam-Webster: "Sturm und Drang comes from German, where it literally means "storm and stress." Although it’s now a generic synonym of "turmoil," the term was originally used in English to identify a late 18th-century German literary movement whose works were filled with rousing action and high emotionalism, and often dealt with an individual rebelling against the injustices of society. The movement took its name from the 1776 play Sturm und Drang, a work by one of its proponents, dramatist and novelist Friedrich von Klinger. Although the literary movement was well known in Germany in the late 1700s, the term Sturm und Drang didn’t appear in English prose until the mid-1800s."

Franz Joseph Haydn was influenced by this German literary movement, especially in the symphonies he composed during the late 1760s and early 1770s. His Symphony No. 49 in F minor dates from 1768, and it is one of the high points of his symphonic writing during this time period. The form he chooses for the work is somewhat archaic, following the layout of the baroque church sonata, with four movements in slow-fast-slow-fast ordering. This produces a wonderfully ominous effect, with the intense and dark first slow movement lasting some 8 minutes, before the outburst of the Allegro second movement. The work is scored for 2 oboes, bassoon, 2 horns, and strings.

The symphony's nickname - La passione (not originating from Haydn) - derived from a performance of the work given during Holy Week in the Northern German city of Schwerin in 1790. The nickname has stuck with the work for good reason.

Here's a performance of the second movement of the Symphony No. 49 by l'Orchestre philharmonique de Radio France, with Barbara Hannigan conducting.

Tentative steps towards normalcy

Well here we are. Three hundred and sixty four days since the nation-wide lock down. Fifty two weeks since our last PCO indoor rehearsal. Mid-winter 2021.

Yet the light at the end of the tunnel has grown a little brighter since yesterday. Hopefully some of you may have been able to get vaccinated. And it looks like many, if not all, of us will be vaccinated by the beginning of the summer.  If we hang on a little longer we can begin to see more of our family and friends in person, and, tentatively, to go back to those things that bring pleasure and joy into our lives. My fingers are crossed very tightly!

I also figured that the only way for me to consistently share some beautiful music and ease the PCO back into existence is to lay down a schedule and stick to it. Easier said than done, but I'll give it a try.

So here we go.

At least once a week - if not more than that, if I am lucky enough - I'll share with you all some short little musical gem that we can savor and help bring on the spring that is not too far away. An attempt to ever so gently exit our long hibernation.

Let's begin with what most people call the Largo from Xerxes by George Frederic Handel. I first played this piece as a flute student back in 8th grade in an arrangement for flute and piano which I found in a collection of famous melodies. I have never forgotten it.

Regarding the opera in which this aria is found, Serse (Xerxes is the English translation), as writer Raymond Tuttle puts it . . . "is the typical Baroque tale of misplaced affections. Serse (Xerxes), the King of Persia, is engaged to Amastre, but he really loves Romilda, the daughter of Ariodate, the commander of Serse's army. Romilda is in love with Arsamene, Serse's brother. Arsamene returns her love, but he in turn is loved Atalanta, Romilda's sister. Serse's and Atalanta's jealousy is the wheel on which the plot revolves. Elviro, Arsamene's tippling manservant, provides comic relief. Confused?" You are not alone!

This most famous aria from Serse, and perhaps Handel's most famous - or at least most beautiful - tune is the one that opens the opera, Ombra mai fu. Within the context of the story, King Serse sings about the admiration and love he has for the shade of his beloved plane tree.

Hanako Yamaguchi sums it up beautifully: "It is incredible how this simple plaintive melody that begins with a note materializing out of nothing, suspended in space, never fails to affect me profoundly. Whenever I hear Ombra mai fu, I am transformed. The work exemplifies the enormous power music has to lift and move one’s spirit. It is a moment of fathomless grace, and a nearly 300-year-old example of how being mindful can reveal the extraordinary within the ordinary."

The recitative that precedes the aria sets the mood:

Frondi tenere e belle / Tender and beautiful fronds
del mio platano amato / of my beloved plane tree,
per voi risplenda il fato. / let Fate smile upon you.
Tuoni, lampi, e procelle / May thunder, lightning, and storms
non v'oltraggino mai la cara pace, / never disturb your dear peace,
né giunga a profanarvi austro rapace. / nor may you by blowing winds be profaned.

And the simple text of the aria itself . . .

Ombra mai fu / Never was a shade
di vegetabile / of any plant
cara ed amabile / dearer and more lovely
soave più. / or more sweet.

First is an orchestral arrangement with George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra

 And now how it was originally heard, in an amazing performance by counter tenor Andreas Scholl