Welcoming George White as our Viola No.5
George grew up in the South West and was immersed in music from an early age, singing in his local church choir and later as a chorister at Salisbury Cathedral. He went on to hold a scholarship at Wells Cathedral School, later gaining a place at the Royal Academy of Music where he studied with Garfield Jackson. An alumnus of Southbank Sinfonia, George now freelances with ensembles across the UK and Europe, including us, the Philharmonia, Paraorchestra and Friends, the European Union Chamber Orchestra, La Folia and the Edington Ensemble. George was also a Monteverdi Apprentice – he worked closely with mentors from the Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique and Sir John Eliot Gardiner on historical performance practice. He now performs with period groups such as the ORR, the Dunedin Consort, Oxford Bach Soloists, Eboracum, Sounds Baroque and Hampstead Garden Opera.
Bloch’s Building Blocks
BLOCK 1
Ernest Bloch was a Swiss-born composer who gained popularity in the 20th century. As with most composers, he went through something of an identity crisis as he tried to find his unique musical voice. We’d like to think of his life as a series of Building Blocks that led him to writing the music that you can hear in Building Blochs and Birkenstocks on Saturday 4 February at Fairfield Halls.
BLOCK 2
On 24 July 1880, Ernest Bloch was born in Geneva to Maurice and Sophie Bloch, both of whom were of Jewish heritage. The young Ernest was a keen musician, first picking up the violin aged 9 and starting to compose soon after. Ernest had a strong religious upbringing; Maurice had even intended to become a rabbi at one stage and this influence can be heard in his later music.
Ernest had a desire to travel and moved to Germany in 1903. During his Germanic years, he began his lifelong confrontation with issues of spirituality and religion. His compositional style up to this point spoke to post-romantic influences including Debussy, Mahler and Strauss but he began to break away from this from 1911-26. Commonly referred to as his ‘Jewish Cycle’ (although not titled this by the composer himself), the compositions in these years marked a turning point for the young composer and included Schelomo and ‘Prayer’.
BLOCK 3
The ‘Jewish Cycle’ put Ernest on the musical map, but the composer had his own feelings about how his music should be interpreted:
‘It is not my purpose, not my desire, to attempt a ‘reconstitution’ of Jewish music or to base my works on melodies more or less authentic. It is the Jewish soul that interests me…In my work termed Jewish…I have listened to an inner voice, deep, secret, insistent, ardent…a voice which seemed to come from far beyond myself, far beyond my parents…a voice which surged up in me upon reading certain passages in the Bible…This entire Jewish heritage moved me deeply; it was reborn in my music. To what extent it is Jewish or to what extent is it just Ernest Bloch, of that I know nothing. The future alone will decide.
BLOCK 4
Bloch is gaining more and more recognition as time goes on. He received acclaim, prizes and honour during his lifetime and his music was performed regularly. His best-known works are becoming popular with a whole host of orchestras, including us! You may not have known much about him before, but we hope you’ve enjoyed learning a bit more about the man and his music.
Mendelssohn and his Birkenstocks
(Other shoe brands are available)
In his early twenties, Felix Mendelssohn did what most of us dream of doing and packed his bags, donned his Birkenstocks, waved goodbye to his home country Germany and set off on a grand tour of Italy. He spent nine months as a proper tourist: seeing the sights, speaking the language very badly and getting scammed by his taxi driver.
For anyone else, such an experience would be complete. But the former child prodigy Mendelssohn strove valiantly to make his holiday into a research trip. Five months into his stay, he wrote to his sister:
I now try to reflect whether I have made the best use of my time, and on every side I perceive a deficiency. If I could only compose one of my two symphonies! I must and will reserve the Italian one till I have seen Naples, which must play a part in it.
Mendelssohn’s Fourth Symphony, known as the ‘Italian’, was completed two years later. Each of its four movements corresponds to a different city he saw on his trip. For those of us unable to embark on our own continental tours, listening to Mendelssohn’s ‘Italian’ Symphony is the next best thing.
Venice to meet you
(First movement, Allegro vivace)
Mendelssohn’s first stop was Venice. His first impressions were ‘the whole country had a gay festive air, as if a Prince were expected to make his grand entry’. Prince or no prince, the people welcomed Mendelssohn anyway and his letters brim with delight at finally being in Italy.
Venice was always busy. When Mendelssohn went to the Piazza of St Mark, he observed that ‘in the twilight there is always an immense crowd and crush of people’. There was plenty to see and do as well: ‘I hurry from one enjoyment to another hour by hour,’ he wrote.
The lively opening movement recalls the busy streets that greeted Mendelssohn on his arrival, as well as the energy he expounded in his indefatigable visiting of local galleries, palaces, gardens and churches.
There’s no place like Rome
(Second movement, Andante con moto)
Mendelssohn’s stay in Rome coincided with the death of Pius VIII, who has the dubious honour of being the shortest-ruling pope of the nineteenth century. The people of Rome took the news rather lightly, telling themselves: “We shall soon get a new one”.
Mendelssohn went to St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican where the Pope lay in state. He wrote:
Those who place themselves among the singers (as I do) and watch them, are forcibly impressed by the scene: for they all stand round a colossal book from which they sing, and this book is in turn lit up by a colossal torch that burns before it; while the choir are eagerly pressing forward in their vestments, in order to see and to sing properly.
The ‘simple and monotonous’ music he heard here no doubt influenced the slow and restrained second movement.
Going with the Flo(rence)
(Third movement, Con moto moderato)
Florence syndrome is a slightly dubious condition where people faint upon seeing sights of great beauty. In Florence, Mendelssohn frequented the Uffizi Gallery, a prime spot for aesthetically charged swooning. His own health remained intact, but he did report ‘feelings of reverence’ when sitting at his favourite spot.
Mendelssohn encountered many who had low opinions of Titian and Mozart. He found these impertinent, writing: ‘I am at all events determined to say the most harsh and cutting things to those who show no reverence towards their masters’. His own work was openly indebted to the Classical tradition that came before him.
The third movement of the ‘Italian’ Symphony is set as a stately minuet and trio in the style of Mozart. It pays homage to his musical predecessors, Renaissance painters and their shared elegant style.
See Naples and die
(Fourth movement, Saltarello. Presto)
The final stretch of Mendelssohn’s Italian journey saw him leaving Rome for the south. He applied his usual shrewdness to the new sights there, writing:
Yesterday we went to Pompeii. It looks as if it had been burnt down.
But it was in the local traditions of the more rural south that Mendelssohn found his inspiration for the finale of his ‘Italian’ Symphony. He wrote ‘lively Naples is indeed a pleasant contrast’ to ashy Pompeii and he spent many evenings there dancing the night away with village girls, with the sweet sounds of the accordion for accompaniment.
The final movement of Mendelssohn’s ‘Italian’ Symphony is based on the saltarello, an Italian folk dance popular in the south. Its relentlessly high tempo barrels towards an exuberant finish, concluding Mendelssohn’s colourful nine months in Italy.
LMP play Mendelssohn’s Symphony No. 4, ‘Italian’ at Fairfield Halls, Croydon, on Saturday 4 February 2023. Tickets can be purchased here.
by Jessica Peng
The Secret History of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto
1. A tale of two procrastinators
You may know the story about Mozart’s Don Giovanni (1787). He procrastinated the overture and ended up staying up late the night before, kept awake by his wife pouring him drinks. The ink was still wet when the musicians received the scores the next day. However, such was his genius that the audience had nothing but praise: ‘Everybody, on the stage and in the orchestra, strained every nerve to thank Mozart by rewarding him with a good performance’.
Sadly, when Beethoven procrastinated on his Violin Concerto (1806), the result was not so well received. The soloist, Franz Clement, had to sight-read passages and possibly gave up with the piece altogether, choosing instead to improvise. People left the concert feeling confused at best, ‘exhausted’ at worst.
2. All press is good press?
One reviewer of the Violin Concerto asks that Beethoven stop writing music consisting of ‘unconnected and piled-up ideas’. Instead, he should ‘give us works like his first Symphonies in C and D […] which will assure him of a permanent place among the foremost composers’.
It’s easy now to laugh at this unenlightened journalist. The earliest symphonies are wonderful, but they don’t occupy our public imagination the way Beethoven’s Third, Fifth and Ninth Symphonies do. But at the time, the view that Beethoven’s music was too long, strange and complicated was not uncommon. The Violin Concerto, which was very long and very difficult, alienated the same people who had objected to the Third Symphony ‘Eroica’ – and there were plenty.
3. The Wilderness Years
The Violin Concerto didn’t sink into utter obscurity, but it was rarely performed in the four decades following its lukewarm debut. When it was performed, reviewers usually talked about how talented the soloist was to pull off such an attempt, rather than praising the concerto itself.
Positive, even glowing reviews did come along, but they were rare. For example, in 1828, the year after Beethoven’s death, the Violin Concerto was performed in Paris. One deeply moved reviewer called the concerto ‘one of the most beautiful musical conceptions one can imagine’. Another wrote slightly grudgingly: ‘the piece, we must say, was full of charm and grace’.
4. Vindication!
Beethoven avoided visiting London all his life. However, it was there that the Violin Concerto finally got its due. In 1844, a twelve-year-old Joseph Joachim played the violin as Mendelssohn conducted this concerto in Hanover Square. It was a genuinely monumental performance. It made both Joachim and the Violin Concerto famous, and Joachim would regularly play the piece for the rest of his career.
Other violinists such as Henri Vieuxtemps, Carl Flesch and Eugène Ysaÿe had their own distinctive interpretations of the Violin Concerto. By the end of the nineteenth century, the Concerto’s musical standing was indisputable. It’s worth noting that it was ultimately made famous not by critics, or even its composer, but by musicians.
Of course, there were still detractors: in 1855, a critic watched Joachim perform the concerto, then told him afterwards: “This is all very nice, but now I’d like to hear you play a real violin piece.”
5. A nineteenth-century classic
Nowadays, both Beethoven and his Violin Concerto are canonical, and safe from such criticisms. General opinion is that it redefined the relationship between soloist and orchestra, and stood at the intersection between the Classical and Romantic eras. Beethoven’s is usually considered the first of the five great nineteenth-century violin concertos, although trying to pin these down is like the world’s nichest musical chairs: other contenders include Brahms, Bruch, Lalo (for the cognoscenti), Mendelssohn, Saint-Saëns, Sibelius and Tchaikovsky.
Well, there’s nothing like a live performance to help you decide! We’re playing Beethoven’s Violin Concerto on 12 January 2023 at 7.30pm at Queen Elizabeth Hall, Southbank Centre. Our Artist-in-Residence, Leia Zhu, is our soloist for this piece.
© Jessica Peng 2022