Showing posts with label 18th century. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 18th century. Show all posts

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Private Passion Now Public: Rachel Brown and the Tip of Quantz’s Previously Unpublished ‘Iceberg’


W hat a remarkable performance Rachel Brown (baroque flute) and Terence Charlston (harpsichord) gave last Friday, in the Parry Rooms at the Royal College of Music in London!
  • Sonata in G major, No. 272 - Presto mà fiero
  • Sonata in B major, No. 267 - Larghetto
  • Sonata in A major, No. 274 - Grazioso mà vivace
  • Sonata in D major, No. 277 - Allegro assai
  • Sonata in G minor, No. 366 - Affettuoso, mà mesto; Allegro di molto, mà fiero
  • Sonata in B-flat major, No. 272 - Allegro di molto; Affettuoso; Vivace
  • Sonata in C minor, No. 276 - Cantabile
  • Sonata in F major, No. 356 - Larghetto, mà arioso; Allegro di molto
  • Sonata in G minor, No. 265 - Con affetto, mà non troppo lento
T he occasion for the performance was the launch of the publication of the first two volumes of Quantz flute sonatas that Rachel has edited. Brown’s edition of Quantz Sonatas, bringing these works to the public for the first time, is available by subscription, either to one volume or both, by emailing her at info@uppernote.com.

T his is a marketing approach similar to that used in the 18th Century. For example, Brown notes that Telemann’s Paris Quartets listed among its subscribers not only several members of the French aristocracy, such renowned players as Blavet, Guignon, Edouard, and composers, notably de Caix d'Hervelois, Charpentier, Mondonville, Fasch, Pisendel but also a ‘J.S. Bach of Leipzig’.

V olume 1 contains 6 sonatas (F major No. 272; G major No. 273; A major No. 274; B-flat major No. 275; C minor No. 276; D major No. 277) as does Vol. 2 (B minor No. 231; B minor No. 267; G minor No. 336; E-flat major No. 348; A major No. 351; F major No. 356). These are selected by Brown from the more than 300 flute sonatas that Quantz composed, almost none of which have been previously published.

Q   uantz’s book ‘On Playing the Flute’ is still one of the most-consulted books on flute technic, which makes it especially odd that virtually none of Quantz’s many compositions were actually published. Almost everything that was written by Quantz for King Frederick of Prussia remained in the court’s private possession, and then in the Stadtsbibliothek in Berlin, for more than 200 years. So I went to the library in Berlin to have a look. I would arrive in the morning when they opened at 9 a.m. and take a quarter-hour lunch and leave when they closed at 7 p.m. The librarians were wonderful; they broke almost every rule to help me—they were so delighted that someone was taking an interest in these things. It turns out that there are more than 300 Quantz concerti and about 400 sonatas, hardly any of which have been published.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
T he design of these Volumes is unique in several ways. Firstly, for the sonatas that have a ‘bass’ (cello) part as well as flute and harpsichord, the flute and bass parts appear on linked staff-systems together—so that both players can continuously see what the other is doing, with the obvious advantages that this entails for fluid, mutually-responsive performance.

I   t is crucial, I think, to have the flute and the cello (bass) parts together on the page—to have the cello able to see where the dialogue with the flute is going and, from that, to be better able to choose appropriate phrasing and ornamentation.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
 Quantz book
T   onguing, for Quantz, was not just simple ‘tuh’ or ‘duh’. Instead, tonguing involved a whole range of syllables and shades—tiree, tä, diddle-diddle—all sorts of articulations that could alter the sound and reveal different qualities of expression. The expressive range he covered is really quite marvelous—something that takes years to fathom, really.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
R achel expressed deep thanks to Terence Charlston for his skill and devotion in preparing right-hand parts where Quantz only provided left-hand continuo. In all, Terry had to compose about 120 minutes of right-hand harpsichord score, for the multiple movements of the 12 sonatas in these two volumes.

R achel also expressed gratitude to Jackie Lee, whose Finale©/Sibelius© copyist/pre-press expertise produced the publication-ready digital files. Rachel’s specification and Jackie’s layout involve fold-out pages so as to prevent any awkward page-turns for the performers. This is a second unique/novel aspect of the design of the 2-Volume publication.

T he acoustics in the intimate, modest-size Parry Rooms on the 4th floor at RCM were ideal for the baroque flute-harpsichord duo. Filled to capacity with more than 120 people eager to hear these works, the rooms with their irregular wall and ceiling contours and the warm yellow-pine ceiling and paneling served to reflect the sound in such a way that most everyone had a good vantage point for hearing the performance. (We were grateful for Rachel's consideration in getting everybody who was in Parry 1 moved into Parry 2 just before the performance began!)

 Ceiling of Parry Room at RCM
B rown explained at length the merits of various alternate fingerings that the Quantz design affords. Her blazing 32nd notes in the bravura first movements of the pieces, though, are pretty incredible, regardless how well-engineered and forgiving a particular instrument may be. It is hard for most of us to imagine executing these fast passages on a modern Boehm design instrument with anything approaching the fluency and consistency of tone that Brown achieves on an early flute! What prodigious ability she has!

W e were similarly thrilled by Charlston’s finely-nuanced harpsichord performance. The gracefulness of his accomodation of accelerando and ritardando decisions initiated by Brown was magnificent; the ornaments Charlston applied embodied a fresh spontaneity that responded attentively to Brown’s gestures but never ‘competed’ with them. Really exciting ‘collaborative keyboard’ at its best!

O   ne of Quantz’s strengths was rhetorical ‘delivery’... all of the gestures with tonguing and breathing... He believed that every musician should play like an accomplished orator speaks: clarity and conviction should ring out from every declaration that you make as a musician. Above all else, you must be an orator.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
A n especially endearing and comment-worthy aspect of the evening were Rachel’s remarks between the pieces that she and Terry played. She covered an amazing gamut of topics, ranging from instrument design, to ornamentation and historically-informed performance practice, to flute-playing technic, to composition methods, to Prussian history, to anecdotes on parent-child relationships and the plight of kids whose natures are ‘different’ than their parents would prefer. Seldom have we had so much fun as we did on Friday night. Immediately bought all of Rachel’s Quantz CDs on-offer, to take them home and get better acquainted with this previously-private-now-public Quantz passion. Judging by the qualities she displayed during the Friday night performance at RCM, Rachel must be one hell of a teacher! Bravo!

E   very day, Quantz was defending and protecting his reputation... It is interesting to read other people’s accounts of him... In his own writings, filled with quotidian bits and pieces, he will often tell you, for example, how much he paid for a thing, as though it were important to him to demonstrate or prove his shrewdness. He was orphaned at a young age and was taken under the wing of a local musician... In his teens, Quantz concentrated on oboe and violin; only later did he come to concentrate on flute. It is underappreciated how much of a musical jack-of-all-trades he was—how resilient.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
H   e gave flute lessons, secretly, to Prince Frederick—before Frederick’s father, the King, died. The father’s disapproval of music, and especially of flute, was absolute; he considered it far too effeminate, inadequate as a representation of Prussian militarism, and incompatible with the important priorities that Frederick must have in his training to become King one day. There was one episode during one of Quantz’s lessons when one of Frederick’s servants reported that the father was approaching the part of the palace where the secret flute lessons room was located. Quantz and the flutes and the music and the music stands were shoved into an armoire. The father arrived and found Frederick alone, studying some book of military strategy, but, because Frederick’s hair was still done-up in the French style, he knew something was ‘up’. The father searched the area for more than an hour, but never found Quantz in the armoire. Quantz, though, subsequently referred to the incident as ‘being cooked’—because the armoire was so cramped and hot while he was confined in there.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
A   t one point, Frederick tried to escape, with the help of a servant. The two did not get far. The father arrested them and subsequently had them tried for high treason. Frederick was imprisoned for a year, and his father forced the young Frederick to witness the execution of the servant.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
Q   uantz did marry, you know. It was under, shall we say, ‘intriguing’ circumstances. He went to visit the widow of one of his friends who had recently died. The woman was ill; bedridden; in fact, the priest had been called to administer the last rites to her. And, with the priest there, the woman was asked if there was anything she most desired before she departed this life. And she replied that her dying wish was to be married to the great Quantz. So Quantz agreed and the priest conducted the ceremony on the spot. After which the woman sprang from her bed, said she felt very much better now, and thanked everyone for coming. This was when Quantz’s annual income was more than 2,000 talers, more than 10 times that of C.P.E. Bach...”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
T   his particular flute is a boxwood one that I was able to buy from Carl Hanson in Yorkshire before he retired. It is a 2-key design after Quantz—the two keys are E-flat, which is a few cents higher in pitch, and D-sharp, which is a few cents lower in pitch [than would be the case in equal-temperament]. The difference is very useful, depending on which key a piece is written in. Rudolf Tutz in Innsbruck also made me two flutes of Quantz-type design, one of ebony and one of boxwood—these woods have substantially different tone qualities, both very good. The bore of Quantz flutes is considerably larger, especially in the headjoint, compared to other baroque flutes. The sound is darker and richer in the lower register and yet they are brilliant in the upper register...”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
T   hese titles or designations for pieces became more and more florid, you know... this ‘Allegro di molto, mà fiero’, ‘this way, but not too much so’, and so on. In fact, as we enter the Classical period, you can tell that people were finding it to be over-the-top. Mozart, for example, entitled one of the movements in his Quartet in A major KV-298 ‘Allegro grazioso, mà non troppo presto, però non troppo adagio, così-così-con molto garbo ed espressione’, mocking the excessiveness of the practice of a generation or two earlier.”
  —  Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.
 Quantz 2-key flute, by Tutz
M   odern editorial markings can so easily obscure the composer's intentions. Unhelpful editions of baroque music are readily recognisable: if a copy of a baroque sonata designates ‘piano accompaniment’; if the left-hand keyboard part has no figured bass; if there is no separate bass part for a cellist or viol player; if there are metronome marks...”
  —  Rachel Brown, The Early Flute.



Saturday, October 27, 2007

Jupiter Quartet: Nå Skruva Fiolen! (So, Violin Rave!)

Jupiter String Quartet
It’s a Saturday party, and Jupiter String Quartet plays Mozart with a freshness that’s disarming. Mozart creates this deceptively simple piece in 1787, Serenade in G major (K. 525), otherwise known as ‘Eine kleine Nachtmusik’. What is this—a 31-year-old Mozart’s homage to nighttime festivities, full of 30-something elation and excitement? Upon hearing Jupiter Quartet’s reading of this piece—as part of the ‘What Makes It Great?’ series with Rob Kapilow in Kansas City today, one of the Friends of Chamber Music programs—I’m for the first time struck by the possibility that Nachtmusik may have been Mozart’s acting-out: Mozart toying with class-distinction; a show-piece of ‘This is me, and this, yes, THIS is you’ inter-class regard in 18th century minuet-trio form. Or maybe it’s a darker, droll commentary by an old-enough-to-see-the-writing-on-the-wall Mozart who was chafing in his position within society. There’s a compulsive energy here, a drive that I’ve not heard in any other ensemble’s rendering of these movements, a rocket-fueled quality that causes me to recognize a dimension that I’ve never considered before… These are… these can only be… compositions for… 18th–Century raves!

The only dance of older ‘suite’ forms that persisted when the sonata da camera evolved into the solo sonata and the symphony is the trio. The trio: What does it do? It provides contrast with the minuet movement. Classical minuets are, basically, idiomatic of aristocratic—and, by then, aspirational urban- and bourgeois—culture. But trios are inherently rustic or rural. After the 18th century, the minuet goes into decline and we get the scherzo, the waltz, and so on. But, even in mid-19th century, the trio is still idiomatically rustic. This isn’t to say that peasants were benefiting from some sort of nostalgic idealization by their superiors. No. Nor was rusticness in the trio form some kind of an ironic or ‘laughing-at-not-with’ gesture. The stately minuet in K.525 has sparse two-part openings of each section. But the trio in K.525 is this squarish, exuberant, almost-vulgar hurdy-gurdy-like tune—the harmonization has a bass line but it’s almost devoid of other accompaniment.

Some people think of musical texture as a ‘vertical’ thing, but it’s really two-dimensional—think of its progress through time as the piece proceeds. And the two main texture types (polyphonic and homophonic) are transgressed here. Polyphonic is where every strand is melodic, each melodic strand possibly a different tonal color. Versus ‘Melody and Bass Only’. This is often all that’s necessary to sound complete, if well written. The effect can be light if played softly, or bold, if played exuberantly, as in the Minuet movement of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.

So was Mozart writing things like K.525 strictly for his imperial patron or for the gentry? Hardly. Seems like he was also intending the minuets to be accessible to (and danced by) the common people as well! This is ‘first-person, singular’ music. It’s music for dancers who are full of themselves.

The Jupiters’ playing makes us think about Mozart’s motives for composing in this way. Mozart wasn’t just following his inner muse. He was a music mass-marketer who was ahead of his time! He wasn’t writing these as serious concert pieces; that much is sure. No, this piece might’ve been a serenade for a wedding—as was the case with the Haffner (K.250)—meant to be played intermittently at intervals between refreshments at the reception. Dances like these were written for audiences comprised of ‘people-of-fashion’, never mind the social standing or station of those people. These were dances for people who today would lease handbags, say, from BagBorrowOrSteal or BorrowDesignerBags. But, weddings aside, this feels like a classical rave tune. Feel the rhythms!

Minuet-trio compositions like K.525 are different from other dance forms and their “class” implications, such as the Ländler, Deutsche Tanze, Ecossaise, etc. Those dances are far more representational; unambiguous; honorific, even. But this Nachtmusik! The wryness, the tongue-in-cheek of it! The party-ness of it!

As I listen to the Jupiters performing the several movements of this piece, I wonder about the 18th-Century custom of different classes of people mingling at society balls. Maybe the motive for these movements’ different character is to provide a vehicle for the different classes of people partying to dance different dances as a means of droll rivalry with each other, a kind of hair-raising one-ups-manship. Not a Rousseau-ian ‘leveling’ of social class distinctions in the ballroom, but instead a rubbing each others’ noses in the remnants of class, in jest—in a parodistic, comic, party-animal way. Yes, this music was, and was intended to be, a pretext for acting-out. And not necessarily only for acting-out tableaux of inter-class social difference. For example, it may have been a pretext for acting-out a rustic ‘devil-may-care’ defiance of mortality. We fancy stylish partiers, let’s now scoff at Death!

Daß williger mein Herz, vom süßen
Spiele gesättiget, dann mir sterbe...
Zugriedn bin ich, wenn auch mein Saitenspiel
Mich nicht hinab geleitet; Einmal
Lebt’ ich, wie Götter, und mehr bedarfs nicht.”

[ More willingly my heart, so sated
 with the sweet play, might then die...
 I am content even if my string music
 does not accompany me on the way down; Once
 I lived like the gods, and more than that is not required.]
  — Hölderlin, An die Parzen.

As Tim Blanning has said, ‘Both the musician and the society were involved in the creative process’ (p. 178). Far cry from predominantly passive audiences today! And now, as this Jupiter Quartet performance makes clear to me for the first time, it would be a ‘stretch’ to say that, because his audience was mostly comprised of gentry, Mozart’s dance compositions must therefore have been ‘aristocratic’, for passive farts looking to shore up their noblesse. No. More likely Mozart’s minuet-trio output was for ‘bourgeois-poseurs’ — it’s activist-oriented, for Movers & Shakers. Subversive, even. Not deeply subversive in the pan-political way that Shostakovich was subversive, but subversive on an intimate and personal level, like acid-house music.

This ain’t no party. This ain’t no disco. This ain’t no foolin’ around! Der Begriff des Subversiven meint ein (individuelles oder kollektives) absichtsvolles Unterlaufen von Normen und Standards mit dem Ziel einer (oft kaumwahrnehmbaren) Transformation. Bestehende Gefüge, Denkstrukturen und Bezugssysteme sollen unter Anwendung ihrer eigenen Gesetze bewegt, verdrehtund umgestürzt werden. Auf welche Weise kann Kunst (bildende Kunst, Literatur, Musik) das leisten?”

[ The concept of the subversive means eliding (individual or collective) intention and breaching norms and standards with the goal (often hardly perceptible) of transformation. Desultory cooptation of existing structures, ideologies and reference systems bends, breaks, and finally overthrows the status quo. How does Art (art, literature, music) do that? ]

  —  Das Subversive (in) der Kunst, Symposium 15-17 Juli 2005, Vienna.

Watchmen, Acid House, 1987
Maybe ‘Mozart’ = ‘Professional Dilettante’. In itself ‘dilettante’ is an unusual word that comes into use in the English language in the 18th century, signifying an individual who delights, enjoys, and/or creates something for its own sake, in terms of its own value, and not primarily with a desire or need for financial reward. ‘Dilettante’ is spelled almost the same in various languages (e.g., English, French, German, and Italian), derived from the Latin ‘delectare’, meaning ‘to delight’. Maybe this K.525 is a hold-over 20-something’s Hausmusik ‘remix’ for The Empire of Delight, in four movements.

The dilettante’s glowsticking audience is controlled, and the dilettante’s personality is usually a ‘controlling’ one. Mozart tried carefully to control as much as he could, tried to influence the circumstances where social and musical exchange took place—a dilettante on his own terms whenever possible. In that vein, a dilettante composer’s interest would almost always focus more on culturally-favored, popular, intimate genres rather than on grand gestures associated with a more public music. So from dilettantes we have songs, dances, harpsichord and pianoforte compositions, chamber music miniatures, etc.—instead of large-scale symphonic compositions, operas, and masses.

Glowsticking at a Rave
We can find out quite a lot about contemporary reception of trios of the 1780s from comments and letters of the time. Likewise, we can find out quite a lot about composers’ motivations from their letters.

P.S. — When are we to have another little musical party at your house again? I have composed a new trio I want you to hear!”
  —  Mozart, letter to Michael Puchberg, 17-JUN-1788, in Anderson, p. 916.

So, maybe Mozart DID compose as he wished, despite the fact that his nominal patron was himself very controlling. Maybe Mozart was the first one to strike the blow for freedom that marked the end of the whole patronage system based on the class domination of the old aristocracy. Yes, he was a child prodigy, fêted by all the royalty of Europe, to whom he dedicated exquisite minuets, sonatas and symphonies. But here he was, a now a grown man, and he finds himself in the compulsory service of Archbishop Hieronymus of Salzburg. Hieronymus, despotic and resentful, asserts himself as secular and spiritual lord of his fief. Hieronymus resents Mozart’s fame and feels threatened by Mozart’s confident, cosmopolitan independence. Hieronymus wants to put Mozart, his feudal servant and vassal, back in his place. So he commands Mozart to refuse all commissions from outside sources and restrict himself to writing masses for the Salzburg cathedral. Didn’t sit well with Mozart. Look at him! Look at this pensive portrait of him painted by his brother-in-law, when Mozart was 26. This is not a picture of a compliant servant! Isn’t that a youthful defiance in those eyes? Mozart’s reaction to Heironymus’s idiocy is to defiantly compose up-tempo rave music! But no historian/biographer of the time would write about that! Which is why today no one knows for certain why these salon pieces were written. As if.

Mozart portrait, age 26 years, by Joseph Lange.
He could compose as he wished – dilettantes have no necessity to ‘prove’ anything to anyone – and then select the audience to hear his compositions, knowing that neither his invitations nor his music would be taken lightly.”
  —  Aubrey Garlington, Society, Culture & Opera in Florence 1814-1830: Dilettantes in an Earthly Paradise, 2006.

A performance of this piece by the Jupiter String Quartet is, in any case, exciting. They impart new ideas about Mozart, his psychology, his skill as a marketer and provocateur, his society and the turbulent times in which he lived. Regardless whether the impressions above are real or an illusion, the experience is undeniably vivid and valuable. We leave with new empathy to replace our habitual preconceptions and prejudices. Thank you, Jupiters, for breathing such life into ‘Eine kleine Nachtmusik’. You throw a great party!

(The Quartet was recently awarded the Cleveland Quartet Award by Chamber Music America, a prize which “honors and promotes a rising young string quartet whose artistry demonstrates that it is in the process of establishing a major career.” They have also been selected to join Lincoln Center’s Chamber Music Society Two for a three-year residency that began this year, and have been awarded the Netherland America Prize, which will sponsor a tour of the Netherlands in the Spring of 2008. In 2004 the Jupiters won the Grand Prize in the Fischoff National Chamber Music Competition and First Prize in the 8th Banff International String Quartet Competition, where they were also awarded the Szekely Prize for the best performance of a Beethoven quartet. The Quartet has performed at New York’s Lincoln Center, Boston’s Jordan Hall and London’s Wigmore Hall, as well as at major music festivals including the Aspen Music Festival. The Jupiter String Quartet members devote considerable energy to developing future classical music audiences through outreach work in the school system and educational performances (like today’s Friends of Chamber Music ‘What Makes it Great’ party with Rob Kapilow in Kansas City). They also enjoy working with aspiring chamber musicians, and have served on the faculties of the chamber music programs at the Snowmass Suzuki Institute and the Austin Chamber Music Festival. The Jupiters are alumni of the Professional String Quartet Training Program at The New England Conservatory in Boston.)

    Jupiter String Quartet
  • Nelson Lee, first violin
  • Meg Freivogel McDonough, second violin
  • Liz Freivogel, viola
  • Daniel McDonough, cello

Goring

Jupiter String Quartet