Vadym KholodenkoFebruary 3, 2015

Handel Chaconne in G Major, HWV 435

Mozart Rondo in D Major, K. 485

Mozart Rondo in A Minor, K. 511

Beethoven Sonata No. 10 in G Major, op. 14, No. 2

Allegro

Andante

Scherzo: Allegro assai

Intermission

Debussy Children’s Corner

Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum

Jimbo’s Lullaby

Serenade for the Doll

The Snow is Dancing

The Little Shepherd

Golliwogg’s Cakewalk

Debussy Images, Book 2

Cloches à travers les feuilles

Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut

Poissons d'or

Balakirev Islamey, “Oriental Fantasy”

ABOUT THE PROGRAM

Chaconne in G Major, HWV 435

GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL (1685–1759)

Handel is best known for Messiah, several other oratorios, a healthy handful of operas, and the ubiquitous

Water Music and Royal Fireworks Music. To this worthy selection can be added a number of his concerti grossi

and organ concertos. Of his wonderful and imaginative solo keyboard music, not much is regularly heard, and

that is distinctly our loss. A few isolated movements do crop up, including the so-called “Harmonious

Blacksmith” and the movement from his Harpsichord Suite No. 1 in B-flat major that Brahms appropriated

for his compendious Variations on a Theme by Handel in 1861.

Another Handelian entry that has survived the passage of nearly three centuries is the Chaconne in G Major,

HWV 435, composed before 1720 (as was much of his solo keyboard music). The chaconne was a venerable

variation form for at least a century when Handel wrote the piece. Partly in order to prevent unauthorized

editions of his music (very common practice at the time) Handel published this imaginative work in 1733.

The theme is an eight-measure melody that is repeated in 21 variations that flow seamlessly by, one of which

detours into the minor mode. The highly ornamented theme runs up and down the keyboard and encourages

the keyboardist to lavish improvisatory flourishes on the essentially unchanging motive. As is typical of the

form, the harmonic framework remains constant while rhythmic changes ensure a sense of constant renewal.

Rondo in D major, K.485

Rondo in A minor, K.511

WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756–1791)

Though from youth Mozart was a more than proficient violinist and violist, his primary instrument was the

piano, for which he composed more than two-dozen concertos, and scads of sonatas, variations and other

miscellaneous solo pieces. Many of these works are easy to play technically, but difficult to truly master

because of their economy and transparency; even the slightest performing glitch stands out like the proverbial

sore thumb. Contemporaneous accounts of Mozart’s playing indicated that his written scores often

functioned as bare outlines of his extensively elaborated improvised public performance. Oh, to have had a

tape recorder in the 1780s!

The lyrical Rondo, K.485 (1786), is an untroubled evocation of Mozart’s early absorption of Italian vocal

writing acquired during his trips to Italy. The single theme upon which it is based came courtesy of Johann

Christian Bach, the so-called “London” Bach Mozart greatly esteemed.

K.511 (1787), on the other hand, is a far greater work, its A-minor home key giving free rein to a wider

expression of emotion. Mozart invests this Rondo with deft touches of humor and relaxation in a major-key

episode, but the prevailing sensibility is touchingly poignant and subtly agitated in its rhythms. In contrast to

the general late 18th century practice of ending minor-key pieces in the major, Mozart reinforces the music’s

quintessential resignation by ending in the minor mode.

Sonata No. 10 in G Major, Op. 14, No. 2

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)

During the final decade of the 18th century Beethoven established a strong reputation as a pianist with

extraordinary gifts of improvisation and a forceful style that threatened to burst the seams of Classical

decorum. Naturally, the emerging pianoforte served as a battleground as well for his aspirations as a

composer. Composed in 1798–99, the Sonata in G Major, Op. 14, No. 2, has not enjoyed the reputation

shared by many of his nicknamed sonatas, e.g., the “Moonlight,” “Pathétique,” “Waldstein” and several other

famously well-known works. Yet no less than the insightful English musicologist Donald Tovey aptly

described it as an “exquisite little work.”

The opening Allegro begins unceremoniously with a brief phrase accompanied by arpeggios in the left hand, a

composite phrase that pops up throughout the movement. Even in so early a work Beethoven adds color and

interest by varying the harmonization of the theme, including some tonality-stretching chromatic passages. As

deft and light-hearted as it is, the movement is deepened by an intensification of expression before ending

quietly.

A set of variations marked Andante follows. The theme is stated chordally and moves through three distinct

variations that seem to move toward another quiet movement-ending close. Yet Beethoven has a bit of shock

to offer, slamming the senses with an aggressive C-major chord.

The Sonata concludes with Scherzo that sets for with a rising three-note germ that promises to keep listeners

attempting to figure out the quirky rhythm. Adding to possible confusion the Scherzo designation is also a bit

of a trick; in essence, the movement is actually in rondo format (A—B—A—C, etc.). With what almost

always defines Beethoven signature, unexpected harmonic dislocations, changing and intentionally befuddling

rhythms, and equally discombobulating silences point towards the composer’s innovative and challenging

notion of evolving sonata form.

Children’s Corner Suite

Images, Set II

CLAUDE DEBUSSY (1862–1918)

Despite the soft contours and appealing textures of his music, Claude Debussy was a true musical

revolutionary genius whose harmonic daring and feel for sonority resulted in a body of solo piano works as

innovative in their time as Chopin’s was in the early years of the Romantic era. Both men understood the

magic of the piano better than most composers, including those who wrote great music for that mechanized

beast of an instrument.

Published in 1908, Debussy’s Children Corner Suite began life as a six-movement solo piano piece in which

format it has enjoyed considerable popularity. Three years later the composer’s friend André Caplet

orchestrated the set, adding to its familiarity.

The title of the opening piece, “Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum” is a tongue-in-cheek refernce to Baroque

composer Joseph Fux’s didactic text on counterpoint. As one might imagine, this clever send-up turns a

potentially arid exercise into a delightful “commentary” on a previous age. The ensuing “Jimbo’s Lullably”

derives its character from an actual elephant (named “Jumbo”) who was known to the citizens of Paris during

Debussy’s youth. Perhaps unexpectedly, the touching lullaby darkened in one extended phrase and featuring

an episode using a whole-tone scale, is free of irony and undoubtedly reflects the composer’s lifelong

preference to animals over humans. (He especially loved cats.)

Having been exposed to Javanese music at the 1889 Paris Exhibition, Debussy casts the “Serenade for the

Doll” in a pentatonic scale and asks performers to play it with the soft pedal engaged. “The Snow is Dancing”

is deceptively difficult in its deployment of the melodic material shared by both hands.

“The Little Shepherd” limns the image of a young shepherd playing three different solos on his flute, each

elaborated upon before moving on to the next mini-serenade. To further the illusion, the first “solo” is

marked in the score by an indication to breathe!

The concluding and best-known number, “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” quotes and makes great fun of the “Tristan”

motif from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, reminding us of Debussy early embrace and ultimate rejection of the

“Master of Bayreuth.” No one has topped Debussy’s aphoristic comment on Wagner, i.e., that “…a beautiful

sunset was mistaken for a new dawn.”

In 1894, Debussy composed three works he called Images, which he never had published despite their high

quality. (They emerged in print only 84 years later.) In 1905, awaiting completion of his divorce, composed

what has become known as Images, Set I. Two years later, Debussy composed Set II. To help pianists un-ravel

(no pun intended) the complex musical strands, he distributed the writing on three staves. In Cloches à travers

les feuilles (“Bells through the leaves”) the piano is called upon to suggest the ringing yet often haunting tolling

of bells. Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut (“And the moon descends on the temple that was”) draws us

into a quiet, mysterious and suggestively Oriental world of incense and incantation. Prevailingly quiet and

seamless in its unfolding, Debussy seems to be imitating/suggesting the glowing resonance of Javanese or

Balinese gamelan, which had mesmerized him at the 1889 Paris Exhibition. Poisson d’or (“Goldfish”), with its

fantastic dancing of glittering light-like piano textures, refers not to a literal fish but rather to a Japanese

lacquer plaque owned by the composer. This finale is quick, virtuosic, and filled with caprice and unchecked

enthusiasm.

Islamey, “Oriental Fantasy”

MILY BALAKIREV (1837–1910)

Mily Balakirev was a major player in creating a national style of Russian music in the second half of the 19th

century. He helped found the Free School of Music in 1862, which gave direction and purpose to a new

generation of composers to focus on an authentic Russian school freed from the domination of Western

conservatory training. Among notables influenced and supported by his advocacy were Borodin, Rimsky-

Korsakov and Tchaikovsky.

Balakirev’s best-known work remains Islamey (1869, revised 1902), described as an “oriental fantasy.” It was,

in fact, the only piece he wrote that profited his publishers. The music derives from three themes; the first

known as “Islamey” was heard by the composer during a visit to the Caucasus. The rhythmically animated

second theme follows and darts in and out of the initial tune. A slow middle section of lyric impulse

introduces the third theme, which Balakirev had heard sung by an Armenian singer while visiting

Tchaikovsky in 1869. As the music unfolds, the composer alters this theme and invests it with considerably

greater energy. In creating so challenging a keyboard piece, Balakirev was strongly influenced by the example

of Liszt, who played Islamey frequently

© 2015 Steven Lowe