Emily Anderson

Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 97 (“Rhenish”)

While Beethoven is usually considered an instigator of the Romantic Movement that eclipsed Classicism, Robert Schumann was a first generation full-blooded German Romantic.  Aside from being a performer and composer, Schumann was highly gifted in creative writing and eventually became a music journalist, founding the New Leipzig Newspaper for Music and fighting for new music to be performed.  Despite his many gifts in the arts, Robert Schumann did have one personal burden that he was always battling: his own mental health.  In fact, scholars frequently divide his compositional output into periods demarcated by major crises in his life.

Like Beethoven, Schumann made composition a priority after a career as a professional pianist turned out to not be a viable option.  For Beethoven, it was deafness that curtailed his performing, but for Schumann it was an irreversible injury in 1832 that ended his virtuosity.  This was a devastating blow for Schumann, but his compositional output remained focused primarily on piano music up until 1840.  In 1840 he married Clara Wieck and composed 127 songs.  In 1841 he turned to orchestral works, composing his first symphony, the Overture, Scherzo and Finale, the first movement of his piano concerto, and the symphony that would later become the fourth in his catalogue.  The following year was dominated by chamber music, including his string quartets, the piano quartet, and the piano quintet.

In 1850, upon being appointed music director of the Düsseldorf orchestra, the Schumanns moved to the Rheinland.  Eager to be accepted into the hearts of the proud folk of the region, Schumann began to compose a symphony “of the Rhine”: the “Rhenish.”  His selected key, E-flat Major, is one oft associated with majesty; recall Mozart’s Overture to The Magic Flute or Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony and Emperor Concerto.  The first movement, marked “Lively,” begins with a bang: an exhilarating statement that initially bucks the meter but soon coalesces and rides the tide, an immediate reference to the unpredictability of a force as massive as the river in question.  The musical journey of this movement is a wonderful representation of a trip on the river; there are forceful moments, there are uncertain moments, and there is occasional tranquility.  This is undoubtedly one of Schumann’s most successful symphonic creations.

The second movement is marked Scherzo (a fast-paced movement in 3/4 time), but it is in fact a leisurely Ländler, a simple folk-waltz.  Schumann originally titled this movement “Morning on the Rhine.”  The main theme arpeggiates at such a wide range that the motion of the river waves is easy felt.  Schumann’s formal inventiveness is at play here with the main theme weaving in and out of a structure that combines variations with a rondo.  The third movement is a clear example of why Schumann was such a successful song composer.  Although there are no words, the lyricism of this intermezzo conjures up all sorts of possible imagery.  The symphony is now in a state of repose, far from the excitement of the outer movements.  “In the style of a musical accompaniment for a solemn ceremony” was how Schumann originally subtitled the fourth movement.  Dark colors abound in this minor key as the sonorous trombones, instruments that were usually associated with church and theater music in Schumann’s day, are finally introduced.  This movement is characterized by complex polyphony, reminiscent of some of the highly complicated choral works of Renaissance composers.   In fact, Schumann’s inspiration for this movement, which serves as an extended introduction to the finale, was a trip to the majestic Cologne Cathedral.  (The construction of the cathedral was begun in 1248, but it was not yet fully completed when Schumann saw it in the mid-nineteenth century.)  The tension of the fourth movement is at once released at the commencement of the fifth, which is a musical display of relaxed contentment.  It is not showy, it is not aggressive; it is just happy music.

Despite the joviality of this symphony, life was not easy for Schumann.  His psychotic episodes worsened while in the Rheinland, and he eventually threw himself into the river to escape the various noises in his head.  He was rescued by local fisherman but then sent to an asylum, where he lived for two years and died.

For the majority of composers of music in the standard repertoire, their personas and music transcend time and place to a certain extent.  But not so with Jean Sibelius.  Sibelius’ name and music are practically synonymous with Finland.  He acts as a symbol of his nation, complete with noble myths and bitter cold.  His music represents their hopes and struggles, and it characterizes the beauty of the land and the power of their collective inner spirit.

As with many composers, Sibelius originally attend University to study something other than music (in his case, law), but was forced by his soul to abandon that path and instead study music.  His early musical studies where in Finland, then in Berlin and Vienna.  He taught music theory and composition at the Conservatory in Helsinki from 1892-1900. He was so prominent that the Finnish Senate awarded him an annual stipend.  After the mid-1920s, he wrote almost no music and lived out his long life in seclusion.

Sibelius didn’t learn to play the violin until 1881, when he was about sixteen years old – these days considered too late a start to become a virtuoso.  But the attraction of the instrument was unavoidable for him.  He realized immediately that he wanted to be a master of the instrument and make his way through life primarily as a violinist.  Around 1890 he even auditioned for the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra.  The judges stated that his playing was “not at all bad,” but decided against hiring him because of his weak nerves.  This dream shattered, Sibelius focused more on a career as a composer.

The original version of the violin concerto was written in 1903, but despite mostly favorable critical acclaim, Sibelius withdrew it immediately after the premiere to revise it.  The updated version appeared in 1905, premiered in Berlin with Richard Strauss conducting and concertmaster Karel Hali? as the soloist.  Surprisingly, this work is the only concerto in all of Sibelius’ output.  The rhapsodic first movement, performed on this concert, is pervaded by Sibelius’ trademark dark colors (featuring low clarinets, bassoons, and low strings), delicate and lonely melodies, and penchant for creating images of barren openness. 

Suite from The Firebird (1919 version)

Born near St. Petersburg, Russia in 1882, Igor Stravinsky is rightly considered one of the most influential composers in the history of music.  Even though his father was a bass with the Imperial Opera and he grew up studying piano, Stravinsky (like Sibelius) intended to study law at the University of St. Petersburg.  He was distracted from his studies both by sheer ambivalence for the subject and by several unavoidable events, including the death of his father and the closing of the University.  Having barely eked out only a half-course diploma in law in 1906, Stravinsky gave in to his passion and began seriously studying composition.  His teacher was Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov, the leading Russian composer at the time and one of the greatest orchestrators ever.

Acclaimed ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev of the Ballet Russes in Paris heard two early compositions of Stravinsky’s (Fireworks from 1908 and Scherzo fantastique of 1909) and hired him to do some orchestrations for him.  But as much as Diaghilev may have enjoyed Stravinsky’s work, Stravinsky was not his first choice to compose music for a new ballet – far from it, in fact.  Diaghilev was looking for a composer to write a ballet based on the Russian folk tale of a magical bird with wings of flame, the firebird.  His first choice, Nikolai Tcherepnin, began to compose the ballet, but soon withdrew; Diaghilev then turned to Anatol Liadov, but his work progressed much too slowly for Diaghilev, and so he also withdrew; the next composer approached was Alexander Glazunov, but he didn’t work out either.  After asking yet another composer, eventually Diaghilev, by now in a rather pressing time crunch, turned to Stravinsky.  Stravinsky was all too happy to accept the commission, and had secretly already started writing music based upon the Firebird tale weeks before Diaghilev even commissioned him.

Premiered in 1910, The Firebird was an astounding success.  The story tells of two types of magical beings: the Firebird, who is good, and King Kastchei, an evil ogre with green claws.  Any maiden who enters Kastchei’s domain is held captive, and any man who enters it is turned to stone.  The hero, Prince Ivan, is introduced pursuing the firebird, but after capturing her, he agrees to release her as long as he can keep a magical feather from her tail.  Prince Ivan enters Kastchei’s garden, sees the captive maidens but is captured himself.  Just before being turned to stone, Prince Ivan waves the magical feather, and the firebird appears.  She reveals the location of an egg that holds King Kastchei’s immortal soul.  Ivan smashes the egg, the ogre dies, and all the evil spells are undone.