John Adams (b. 1947): A Short Ride in a Fast Machine (1986)

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827): Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 15 (1795, rev. 1800)

This season we continue our journey into the Classical era with three concertos by Beethoven, each from a successively later period of the great composer’s life. (The Triple Concerto dates from 1803-4 and the Violin Concerto from 1806.)

Not long after Beethoven, as a young man, left Bonn for good and settled in Vienna, now solidly the European musical capital, he composed the first two of his numbered piano concertos, starting with the “second.” Apparently, he decided to publish this concerto, the C major, first, as part of a planned marketing campaign. There was, in fact, an even earlier concerto, written before his arrival in Vienna, which was never published at all.

Mozart had died in Vienna at the end of 1791, and his incredible canon of 27 piano concertos must have been fresh in the minds of Viennese concerto-goers. Admittedly, if Beethoven had wanted to avoid competition with Mozart, there were precious few genres he could have found to exploit. Church organ music, perhaps? Still, Beethoven was made of much sterner stuff and must have plunged headlong into the fray with all systems engaged. There are plenty of points of comparison. Each movement begins very much in the Mozart tradition, perhaps deliberately so, for to be seen as the true successor to Mozart, Beethoven had to imitate, as well as to innovate.

What really stands out however, is the scale of the work. The Beethoven concerto, at 40 minutes total length, is gargantuan in comparison to most of the Mozart concertos, the longest of which are seven or eight minutes shorter. Beethoven’s orchestra is bigger too. In addition to strings, two horns, two trumpets and tympani, Beethoven uses two of each of the four woodwinds: flutes, oboes, clarinets and bassoons. In contrast, Mozart typically used only five players, altering the personnel requirements slightly for each concerto.

As an exercise, start listening to each movement imagining you are hearing Mozart. At what point do you realize that this is something different? In the first movement, it’s when the development section begins—about seven minutes in. At this point, introduced by a high clear note in the oboe (very Mozart), we hear flowing phrases in the left hand which are pure Beethoven. Indeed such richness of sound became possible only with the introduction of the new Broadwood pianos around this time. The extreme left-hand notes really come into their own in full volume during the cadenza.

In the sublime Largo, we are again fooled into thinking we are listening to Mozart. This glorious piece is harbinger of what was in store for us from the 3rd, 4th and 5th piano concertos. The one very Beethovian touch is the prominent solo role given to the clarinet. As noted before in these pages, Mozart can be considered to have put the clarinet on the orchestral map but, he often excused the clarinet from the slow movement of his piano concertos. The use of pizzicato strings in this movement is another nod to the departed master.

The jaunty Rondo is perhaps a tribute to Haydn (briefly teacher to each of Mozart and Beethoven) as much as to Mozart. The jovial interplay of orchestra and soloist is a delightful final touch to this exuberant and youthful work.

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953): Symphony No. 5, Op. 100 (1944)

Born in the Ukraine, Sergei Prokofiev was a musical child prodigy, taking lessons at home from Glière. By age 13, he was so accomplished (four operas, a symphony and many other pieces) that he successfully applied to St. Petersburg Conservatory. There, he took classes from Lyadov (whose music we showcased in 2005) and Rimsky-Korsakov.

Even at that young age Prokofiev was determined to be different, yet, his music is, in fact, very accessible: even when it becomes atonal, it retains a lyric quality. And when the rhythms become complex, they still maintain a dance-like quality. Throughout life, Prokofiev kept a child-like sense of fun and enjoyed shocking people with his music, thus earning himself a reputation of enfant terrible. He loved to write for children and his best known such work is, of course, Peter and the Wolf.

Perhaps more than any other twentieth-century composer, Prokofiev’s music is essentially melodic, frequently offering soaring melodies expressed in the higher strings or woodwinds. His orchestration is sometimes complex, but at times it is extremely simple. The result is a freshness and vitality that appeals to both the serious and not-so-serious ear.

Although graduated from the Conservatory, he remained there and managed to avoid being sent to the front during World War I. When the Revolution came in 1917 he left the country and visited the United States. During the next fifteen years he lived in various places, but mainly Paris, before returning to Moscow more or less permanently. The Stalin years were not happy ones for most Russian composers, but Prokofiev, at times, fared a little better than most. Sadly, he was robbed of the expected and obligatory glowing obituaries and retrospectives when, due to an unfortunate accident, he died just a few hours before Stalin!

The fifth symphony (he wrote seven in all), one of his most popular works, was written in 1944. By then, fighting on the Eastern front had quieted down, permitting him, along with Shostakovich and other Soviet artists, to return to Moscow and resume a normal existence. The movements are thematically integrated so that each does not seem completely new when it is first heard. Prokofiev uses pairs of instruments in octaves (or double octaves) frequently. Listen, for example, to the beginning when the flute and bassoon airily introduce the main theme of the first movement. That theme is answered, with suitable variations, in the subsequent movements. From then, the music develops powerfully with a solid underpinning by the tuba, basses and contra-bassoon.

The very exciting scherzo, though in 4/4 time instead of 3/4, is somewhat traditional with its mid-movement trio section. Perhaps reminiscent of Mahler, the Adagio features some of Prokofiev’s most lyrical and also dramatic music, with a ghostly and distinctly unsettling feeling. The fourth movement starts with that same airy feeling as the opening of the symphony, although this time a little faster. After an introspective interlude in the cellos, an optimistic and driving theme, closely related to the main theme of the first movement, appears in the clarinet. As it develops, the music becomes more rambunctious, giving way to an intense ending.

--Robin Hillyard