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2003 Russian Trumpet Music an Analysis of Concerti by Oskar Böhme, Eino Tamberg, and Sergeï Wassilenko William J. Takacs

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SCHOOL OF MUSIC

RUSSIAN TRUMPET MUSIC – AN ANALYSIS OF CONCERTI BY OSKAR

BÖHME, EINO TAMBERG, AND SERGEÏ WASSILENKO

By

WILLIAM J. TAKACS

A Treatise submitted to the Department of Music In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Music

Degree Awarded: Summer Semester, 2003 The members of the Committee approve the treatise of William J. Takacs

defended on May 28, 2003.

______Bryan Goff Professor Directing Treatise

______James Croft Outside Committee Member

______John Drew Committee Member

______Michelle Stebleton Outside Committee Member

The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee members.

ii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author would like to acknowledge several individuals for their direct and/or indirect support lent to the completion of this project. Thanks go to my parents and my brother for always supporting and encouraging my endeavors in music. I would also like to thank Edward Carroll, Vince DiMartino, and Edward Tarr for their assistance and input on this project. Special thanks go to Dr. Amy Gilreath, Trumpet Professor at Illinois State University and Dr. Bruce Briney, Trumpet Professor at Western Illinois University, who took the time to provide me with copies of their own dissertations, which helped me to gather even more information on my topic. Special thanks also go to the members of my graduate committee, Prof. Michelle Stebleton, and Dr. James Croft and Dr. John Drew for their guidance and assistance. I would like to give special recognition to my major professor, Bryan Goff, who not only toiled tediously over several revisions of my treatise, but who also assisted with helping take care of much paperwork necessary to graduate for me as I was roughly 1,300 miles away in Texas. A very special thank you is extended to my good friend and colleague, Scott Beckett, who assisted with some of the computer-related issues pertaining to this treatise, helped to keep me sane during my doctoral work with some rousing racquetball matches (which he would usually win) and a never-ending supply of fine wine and cigars, and who I love, trust, and respect like my own brother. Lastly, I would like to acknowledge a very special and dear person to me, Emily Pledger, who has inspired me more than she will ever know through her passion for teaching, music, and life. You have truly opened my eyes to happiness, Emily, and I want to thank you for that. I love you.

iii TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Tables……………………………………………………………... vi List of Musical Examples………………………………………………… vii Abstract…………………………………………………………………… xi

Chapter Page

INTRODUCTION.……………………………………………………. 1

1. RUSSIAN MUSIC…………………………………………………….. 3

Historical Overview of Russian Music……………………………. 3 Aesthetic Qualities of Russian Music……………………………… 6 Russian Trumpet Training…………………………………………. 9 Conclusions………………………………………………………… 11

2. TIMOFEI DOKSHITZER……………………………………………... 13

Introduction……………………………………………………….. 13 Early Musical Life…………………………………………………. 13 Trumpet Study…………………………………………………….. 14 World War II……………………………………………………… 14 Family…………………………………………………………….. 15 Dokshitzer the Conductor…………………………………………. 15 Political Effects on Music in Russia……………………………… 16 Dokshitzer the Soloist…………………………………………….. 17 Collaboration with Composers…………………………………… 18 Touring Difficulties………………………………………………. 19 Relocating to Lithuania…………………………………………… 20 Later Life…………………………………………………………. 20

3. OSKAR BÖHME’S TRUMPET CONCERTO IN F MINOR……….. 22

The Life of Oskar Böhme (1870-1938?)………………………… 22 The Trumpet Concerto in F Minor, op. 18………………………. 23 Movement 1……………………………………………………… 25 Movement 2……………………………………………………… 30 Movement 3……………………………………………………… 34

iv Conclusions……………………………………………………… 38 Timofei Dokshitzer’s Recording of the Böhme Concerto………. 38

4. EINO TAMBERG’S TRUMPET CONCERTO………………………. 41

Eino Tamberg……………………………………………………… 41 A Brief History of Estonia and its Music………………………….. 41 Tamberg’s Trumpet Concerto, Op. 42……………………………. 43 Movement 1………………………………………………………. 46 Movement 2………………………………………………………. 52 Movement 3………………………………………………………. 56 Conclusions……………………………………………………….. 62 Timofei Dokshitzer’s Recording of the Tamberg Trumpet Concerto 62

5. SERGEÏ WASSILENKO’S CONCERT-POÈME IN C MINOR……… 64 Sergeï Wassilenko…………………………………………………. 64 Concert-Poème c-moll, Op. 113…………………………………… 64 Movement 1……………………………………………………….. 67 Movement 2………………………………………………………... 72 Movement 3………………………………………………………… 74 Conclusions…………………………………………………………. 80 Timofei Dokshitzer’s Recording of the Wassilenko Trumpet Concerto 80

6. CONCLUSIONS………………………………………………………… 83

APPENDIX A - KNOWN PUBLICATIONS OF THE BÖHME, TAMBERG, AND WASSILENKO CONCERTI ………………………………………… 85

APPENDIX B - KNOWN RECORDINGS OF THE BÖHME, TAMBERG, AND WASSILENKO CONCERTI…………………………………………. 86

BIBLIOGRAPHY…………………………………………………………… 87

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH………………………………………………… 91

v LIST OF TABLES

Chapter 3 – The Böhme Concerto Page

Table 1: Mvt. 1 thematic statements……………………………………….. 24

Chapter 4 – The Tamberg Concerto

Table 2: Mvt. 1 motivic statements…………………………………………. 45

Table 3: Mvt. 2 motivic statements…………………………………………. 45

Table 4: Mvt. 3 thematic statements………………………………………… 46

Chapter 5 – The Wassilenko Concerto

Table 5: Mvt. 1 thematic statements………………………………………… 66

Table 6: Mvt. 2 thematic statements………………………………………… 66

Table 7: Mvt. 3 thematic statements………………………………………… 67

vi LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES

Chapter 3 – The Böhme Concerto Page

Ex. 1: Böhme Concerto, Mvt. I, mm. 7-11…………………………………. 25

Ex. 2: Mvt. I, mm. 12-18…………………………………………………… 26

Ex. 3: Mvt. I, mm. 17-28…………………………………………………… 26

Ex. 4: Mvt. I, mm. 31-38…………………………………………………… 27

Ex. 5: Mvt. I, mm. 40-55…………………………………………………… 27

Ex. 6: Mvt. I, mm. 67-81…………………………………………………… 28

Ex. 7: Böhme Concerto Mvt. I, m. 80, P. Jurgenson á Leipsic et Moscou edition… 29

Ex. 8: Mvt. I, mm. 96-102…………………………………………………. 29

Ex. 9: Mvt. I, mm. 135-157………………………………………………... 30

Ex. 10: Mvt. 2, all………………………………………………………….. 32

Ex. 11: Bridge connecting Mvts. 2 & 3, piano score……………………… 33

Ex. 12: Bridge connecting Mvts. 2 & 3, B-flat trumpet part……………… 33

Ex. 13: Mvt. 3, mm. 1-16, piano score……………………………………. 34

Ex. 14: Mvt. 3, m. 11, trumpet part……………………………………….. 35

Ex. 15: Mvt. 3, mm. 27-35………………………………………………… 35

Ex. 16: Mvt. 3, mm. 45-57, modern version, piano score………………… 36

Ex. 17: Mvt. 3, pickup to mm. 66-82……………………………………… 37

Ex. 18: Mvt. 3, mm. 115-118, modern version, trumpet part……………… 37 vii Chapter 3 – The Böhme Concerto (cont.) Page

Ex. 19: Mvt. 3, mm. 119-137………………………………………………. 38

Chapter 4 – The Tamberg Concerto

Ex. 1: Tamberg, Trumpet Concerto, Mvt. 1, mm. 1-16, B-flat Trumpet part… 46

Ex. 2: Mvt. 1, mm. 17-30…………………………………………………… 47

Ex. 3: Mvt. 1, mm. 32-39…………………………………………………… 47

Ex. 4: Mvt. 1, mm. 44-55…………………………………………………… 48

Ex. 5: mm. 65-71, piano part……………………………………………….. 48

Ex. 6: Mvt. 1, mm. 80-88…………………………………………………… 49

Ex. 7: Mvt. 1. mm. 89-115………………………………………………….. 49

Ex. 8: Mvt. 1, mm. 119-127…………………………………………………. 50

Ex. 9: Mvt. 1, mm. 130-137…………………………………………………. 50

Ex. 10: Mvt. 1, mm. 143-149………………………………………………… 51

Ex. 11: Mvt. 1, mm. 150-179………………………………………………… 51

Ex. 12: Mvt. 2, mm. 1-3. piano part…………………………………………. 52

Ex. 13: Mvt. 2, mm. 5-8, B-flat trumpet part………………………………… 52

Ex. 14: Mvt. 2, m. 9, piano part……………………………………………… 53

Ex. 15: Mvt. 2, pickup to mm. 16-18………………………………………… 53

Ex. 16: Mvt. 2, mm. 28-43…………………………………………………… 54

Ex. 17: Mvt. 2, mm. 56-68…………………………………………………… 55

Ex. 18: Mvt. 2, mm. 69-95…………………………………………………… 56

Ex. 19: Mvt. 3, m. 1, piano part……………………………………………… 56

viii Chapter 4 – The Tamberg Concerto (cont.) Page

Ex. 20: Mvt. 3, mm. 22-32, B-flat trumpet part……………………………. 57

Ex. 21: Mvt. 3, pickup to mm. 33-59………………………………………. 57

Ex. 22: Mvt. 3, mm. 76-91…………………………………………………. 58

Ex. 23: Mvt. 3, pickup to mm. 98-125……………………………………… 59

Ex. 24: Mvt. 3, mm. 130-143………………………………………………. 60

Ex. 25: Mvt. 3, mm. 144-152………………………………………………. 60

Ex. 26: Mvt. 3, mm. 165-195………………………………………………. 61

Ex. 27, part 1: Mvt. 3, mm. 213-224, B-flat trumpet part………………….. 61

Ex. 27, part 2: Mvt. 3, mm. 218-end, piano part…………………………… 61

Chapter 5 – The Wassilenko Concerto

Ex. 1: Wassilenko, Mvt. 1, mm. 9-27, B-flat trumpet part…………………. 67

Ex. 2: Mvt. 1, mm. 43-78…………………………………………………… 68

Ex. 3: Mvt. 1, mm. 91-123………………………………………………….. 69

Ex. 4: Mvt. 1, mm. 154-183………………………………………………… 70

Ex. 5: Mvt. 1, mm. 194-212………………………………………………… 71

Ex. 6: Mvt. 1, mm. 234-242………………………………………………… 71

Ex. 7: Mvt. 1, mm. 248-254………………………………………………… 72

Ex. 8: Mvt. 2, mm. 11-21…………………………………………………… 72

Ex. 9: Mvt. 2, mm. 28-61…………………………………………………… 73

ix Chapter 5 – The Wassilenko Concerto (cont.) Page

Ex. 10: Mvt. 2, mm. 79-87………………………………………………….. 74

Ex. 11: Mvt. 3, mm. 1-5, piano part…………………………………………. 74

Ex. 12: Mvt. 3, mm. 1-13, B-flat trumpet part………………………………. 74

Ex. 13: Mvt. 3, mm. 21-29………………………………………………… 75

Ex. 14: Mvt. 3, mm. 33-40………………………………………………… 75

Ex. 15: Mvt. 3, mm. 49-56………………………………………………… 76

Ex. 16: Mvt. 3, mm. 69-77………………………………………………… 76

Mvt. 3, mm. 83-84…………………………………………………………. 76

Suite from “The Nutcracker”, Overture, mm. 1-2, piano score……………. 77

Ex. 17: Wassilenko Trumpet Concerto, Mvt. 3, mm. 83-98, B-flat trumpet part. 77

Ex. 18: Mvt. 3, mm. 111-123……………………………………………… 77

Ex. 19: Mvt. 3, mm. 124-131……………………………………………… 78

Ex. 20: Mvt. 3, mm. 135-155……………………………………………… 78

Ex. 21: Mvt. 3, mm. 163-174……………………………………………… 79

Ex. 22: Mvt. 3, mm. 175-197……………………………………………… 79

x ABSTRACT

This project evolved from the author’s interest in solo trumpet literature by Russian composers. There are a number of Russian trumpet solos in the literature that are exceptional pieces, yet are performed infrequently. The study of such works might well enrich the performing repertoire of any trumpeter. This treatise discusses the lives, composition techniques, and trumpet solos of three Russian composers: Oskar Böhme, Eino Tamberg, and Sergeï Wassilenko. Included in the discussion of the musical elements of the solos, special focus is made on the nationalistic qualities. Musical examples are included to illustrate the discussion. The treatise also examines the history of Russian music and the influence of Timofei Dokshitzer on Russian trumpet literature of the twentieth century.

xi INTRODUCTION

In most university trumpet studios across the United States, the applied trumpet curriculum includes the study of common solo literature for the trumpet. Included in this literature are the concerti by the European classical-era composers Joseph Haydn and Johann Nepomuk Hummel, German and Italian baroque-era composers such as Georg Phillip Telemann and Giuseppe Torelli, and French twentieth-century composers such as Henri Tomasi and André Jolivet. The sonatas by contemporary American composers Kent Kennan and Halsey Stevens are also among this core repertoire. With the exception of the concerto by Alexander Arutunian, no Russian trumpet piece is considered standard repertoire. It is the author’s belief that the primary reason for this situation is the lack of exposure most musicians have had to Russian music. Much of the Russian trumpet literature provides a unique flavor to any program and should be considered an important addition to the instrument’s repertoire. Three works which this author believes to be valuable inclusions to the standard trumpet repertoire are examined in this treatise. These works are the trumpet concertos of Oskar Böhme (1870-1938?), Eino Tamberg (b. 1930), and Sergei Wassilenko (1872- 1957). Chapter one briefly explores Russian music history and discusses various analytical and aesthetic qualities found in Russian music. Chapter two focuses on the pioneer responsible for the creation of much of the Russian trumpet literature and the premiere Russian trumpet performer, Timofei Dokshitzer. Chapters three through five present information on the three composers and their trumpet works. Musical examples are included that illustrate the points discussed. The final section of each chapter will present a comparison and analysis of the published music and recordings of Timofei Dokshitzer. Because Dokshitzer is the leading authority of Russian trumpet literature, his recordings can be considered definitive, and this examination will focus on the discrepancies between the published music and that which is performed on his recordings. There is a wealth of literature written for the trumpet by Russian composers. Over 80 works with the title of “Concerto” were written in Russia during the twentieth century.1 Timofei Dokshitzer was largely responsible for the composition, publication, or performance of many of these works. In collaboration with the Marc Reift Publishing Company, he has made many of these pieces available in a series titled the Timofei Dokshitzer Collection. Amy Gilreath, Professor of Trumpet at Illinois State University, obtained a list of 83 Russian pieces for trumpet with the help of Anatoly Selianin, trumpet professor at the

1 Amy Gilreath, “A Bibliography of Trumpet Concertos from the Former Soviet Union,” International Trumpet Guild Journal (December 1994): 49. 1 Saratov Conservatory, Russia,. Dr. Gilreath then examined many of the pieces and published a bibliography of these works that contains various information about the pieces such as their date of composition, publisher, duration, grade, and tessitura. This article, in the December, 1994 edition of the International Trumpet Guild Journal, is a valuable resource for those interested in exploring additional pieces not discussed in this treatise. All musical examples included in this treatise are either for the B-flat trumpet or the piano. However, references to pitches are made in concert pitch to maintain clarity of communication.

2

CHAPTER 1

RUSSIAN MUSIC

Historical Overview of Russian Music

In order to appreciate better the origin of Russian trumpet literature, the nationalist movement in Russia must be addressed. Nineteenth-century Europe experienced many changes in the development of the arts. The dominance of German art forms began to prompt those in other countries to create new styles of art that would promote pride through national achievement. The movement was widespread and eventually covered all of Europe, including France, England, and Finland, and even crossed the Atlantic to include the United States. Nationalism was quite strong in Russia, where the contributions of Russian composers rivaled those of any other country and even made an impact in trend-setting Germany.2 Because Russia is a huge country, one would expect a considerable cultural diversity among its population. There are, in fact, over one hundred distinctive cultures that have their own linguistic and ethnic developments, traditions, and heritage.3 The composers included in this treatise lived in the Western region of Russia, where the nationalist movement was most prominent. Literary artists were the first to develop the nationalist movement in Russia. Alexander Pushkin (1799-1837), Nicolai Gogol (1809-1852) and Feodor Dostoevesky (1821-1881) were important literary figures in Russia who not only started this movement, but also helped the musicians follow suit by providing subjects and inspiration.4 Typical Russian nationalistic style in music during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was a combination of German tradition with Russian folk influence.5 Russian melodies often comprised a relatively narrow range with frequent repetition of one or two rhythmic ideas.6 Another component of Russian folksong is the modal quality of melodies.7 The use of modality also affected harmonic progressions that would be typically nonfunctional, perhaps serving as an influence for the future French impressionist movement in music. The harmonies employed in much of the Russian

2 James Bakst, A History of Russian-Soviet Music (Binghamton: Vail-Ballou Press, 1962), 40-44. 3 Estonian Music Information Centre website, www.emic.kul.ee, accessed on February 23, 2001. 4 Bakst, 50-77. 5 Ibid. 6Donald J. Grout and Claude V. Palisca, A History of Western Music (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1988), 775. 7 Bakst, 50-77. 3 music produced during this time did not incorporate advanced chromaticism as did Wagner’s music, thus distinguishing their music from that of the Germans and making a fresh and original contribution to the Western music world. Mikhail Glinka (1804-1857) was the first Russian composer to experiment with nationalistic qualities in his music. Although the components of his music were anchored in traditional European influence, he contributed a unique aspect in his operas by incorporating Russian subjects and storylines.8 In his 1836 opera A Life for the Tsar, Glinka used elements from existing French and Italian opera form while adding Russian flavor by including native folk melodic ideas.9 Glinka’s second opera, Ruslan and Lyudmila, written in 1842, expanded on nationalistic tendencies with the inclusion of whole-tone scales, chromaticism, dissonance, and variation technique commonly found in Russian folk songs.10 Alexander Dargomïzhsky (1813-1869) also contributed to Russian nationalism by incorporating natural speech patterns found in Russian folk music in his operas such as Russalka (1856), and The Stone Guest (1872).11 In the last quarter of the nineteenth century, many Russian composers began to use varying methods of incorporating nationalism into their music. For instance, one of Russia’s premier composers of the era, Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893), treated nationalism in a very conservative manner. While he included Russian subject matter and folk song excerpts in his music, he did not stray much from the established Western style of harmony and form.12 His music is distinctly Russian; however, it contains folk- style melody and exemplifies man’s struggle for happiness, love, and enjoyment of life.13 Tchiakovsky’s 1890 opera The Queen of Spades draws upon material of Pushkin and includes musical ideas from the period depicted in the story--that of the eighteenth century, when Peter and Catherine the Great were in power.14 Some composers took a more adamant approach to the nationalistic movement, and promoted the Russian culture more aggressively. A group of composers known as moguchay kuchka or “The Mighty Handful” consisted of five Russian composers who formed a collective: Alexander Borodin (1833-1887), a chemist by trade; Cesar Cui (1835-1918), a civil engineer; Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881), a civil servant; Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908), a naval officer; and Mily Balakirev (1837-1910), the only formally trained musician among them. The focus of this group of composers was to produce vocal and programmatic music with national qualities. Their material addressed a variety of subjects such as Russian history, as is the case with Mussorgsky’s opera Boris Godunov written in 1872; paintings of Russian artists, such as Mussorgsky’s set of piano pieces Pictures at an Exhibition written in 1874; or religious themes, such as Rimsky-Korsakov’s Russian Easter Overture written in 1888. Only one of the five composers had formal music training, yet this fact did not seem to hamper their abilities and zeal for composing. They experimented with the

8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 10 Grout, 772. 11Bakst, 50-77. 12 Bakst, 185-189. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 4 material that they knew best, namely Russian folk music. Rimsky-Korsakov’s unusual talent for orchestration contributed to their music, as he frequently assisted the other composers with this task. “The Mighty Handful” created a unique voice by composing music that imitated the style of folk melodies. Their melodies were frequently constructed with a simple diatonic structure, with stress given to leaps of fourths and fifths, or chromatically anchored simulating an oriental style, with a wandering sense of irregular rhythm.15 Examples of Balakirev’s use of folksong melodies are quite evident in his symphonic poem Russia, written in 1887, and Islamey, a work for piano written in 1869.16 Borodin, conversely, did not quote folksong material, but instead chose to imitate some of their melodic and harmonic tendencies to convey his sense of nationalism.17 Borodin’s major works, such as Symphony No. 2 in B minor, written in 1876, and his famous opera Prince Igor, which was unfinished at Borodin’s death and completed by Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov, are prime examples of his use of extended harmonic writing. Mussorgsky has been referred to as the leader and most prolific member of “the Mighty Handful.” Some of his representative works are Night on Bald Mountain, an orchestral piece written in 1867, Pictures at An Exhibition, a piece originally written for piano but which achieved greater success in its version orchestrated by Maurice Ravel, the song cycles Sunless and Songs and Dances of Death, written in 1874 and 1875, respectively, and the opera Khovanshchina, completed in 1886 by Rimsky-Korsakov after Mussorgsky’s death. His operas are noted for following the lead of Dargomïzhsky by treating the texts and music to mimic natural dialogue as closely as possible.18 Mussorgsky, like Borodin, did not often quote from folk melodies, but again mimicked the compositional techniques of Glinka by using folk-like melodic structure without directly quoting any folk material. Rimsky-Korsakov served as the bridge between the previously mentioned composers and those of the twentieth century. His position as Professor of Composition at the St. Petersburg Conservatory gave him the outlet to promote his nationalist ideas and compositional techniques. Rimsky-Korsakov’s melodic and harmonic writing was rooted in national themes, and he even arranged and edited collections of Russian folksongs. Rimsky-Korsakov had a distinct talent for orchestration; he authored an influential treatise on the subject that was published in 1913. His use of exoticism in Cappriccio Espangnol, which imitates sounds and music of Spanish culture, shows that some Russian composers were aware of the trends and styles permeating the musical world outside of Russia. Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915) ushered in the next age of Russian music. His method of composition combined facets of German chromaticism, French Impressionism, and Russian folk idioms.19 His harmonic writing became increasingly complex almost to

15 Douglass Seaton, Ideas and Styles in the Western Musical Tradition (Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing Company, 1991), 339-340. 16 Ibid. 17 Bakst, 107-110. 18 Grout, 772.

19 Bakst, 261-265. 5 the point of achieving complete atonality. Scriabin then ventured from common chord structures and began employing chords of unusual construction, usually stemming from variants of quartal chords. This unusual method produced vibrant, non-functioning harmonic progressions. His well-known orchestral piece Poem of Ecstasy, written in 1908, is a beautiful work that features the trumpet and is a good representation of his unorthodox technique. Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943) was very much like Tchaikovsky in that he would frequently mix folk material with a German compositional style.20 His piano concertos are heavily laden with late-Romantic qualities, with fleeting occurrences of Russian influence. His symphonies and symphonic poems also meet these criteria, but never achieved the same level of popularity as that of his piano concertos. Russian composers’ style in the twentieth century evolved into more experimental types of music. While some composers continued to incorporate the idea of nationalism into their music, the major Russian composers were not as enthusiastic about maintaining the movement as were “The Mighty Handful.” Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971), Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953), and Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) all fall into that category. A major reason for their reduced focus on Russian nationalism is that Stravinsky and Prokofiev spent a significant portion of their education and careers outside of their homeland. Shostakovich found inspiration and was influenced both Paul Hindemith and Gustav Mahler.21

Aesthetic Qualities of Russian Music

It is quite difficult to categorize Russian music with exact compositional characteristics. While Grout mentions some general items such as the descending fourth motive and simple diatonic melodies, not all Russian music meets such a limited criteria. In fact, many of the sources consulted do not even attempt to describe the music of Russia by literal analysis. They instead discuss the subjective aesthetic qualities of Russian music that draws parallels between its derivation from German tradition and its staunch adherence to the promotion of Russian nationalism. Author Gerald Abraham notes that Russian music contains a certain unique “color” that has a “general picturesqueness” with “vehement emotional spontaneity, orgiastic frenzy, dazzling effects of color, barbaric rhythm, and unrestrained abandonment to physical excitement.”22 It has a “compressed force, directness of expression, pointed, forceful brevity…nakedly direct, primitive, sketchy (with) conciseness.”23 It also contains “excitement…which Russian music manifests…(a) joy of living and of brute strength.”24 The “Russian musical mind is naïve…in ingenuity…freedom from preconceptions opens the way to all sorts of curious triumphs.”25

20 Bakst, 251-254. 21 Bakst, 310-312. 22 Gerald Abraham, Studies in Russian Music (Freeport: Books for Libraries Press, 1936), 2. 23 Ibid., 3-5. 24 Ibid., 8. 25 Ibid., 9. 6 Abraham’s observations are very descriptive and accurate. Especially pertinent are his statements concerning the musical naivety of Russian composers, which explains the general recklessness exhibited in their music. It must be remembered that many Russian composers had no actual formal training, so their knowledge of the rules of form and harmony was limited. Abraham provides more insight into this correlation. Russian music has evident “problems of form… it is a rough 'lay-out' [sic] and general arrangement of ideas, that is, to mere ‘design’ rather than to ‘form’ in the true sense of the word… a kaleidoscopic arrangement of tiny particles.”26 “The basis of modern musical construction in Western Europe, the system of logical development of germinal ideas, of which Beethoven was the first really important master, is entirely foreign to the spirit of Russian music.”27 Abraham continues: With the Russians we are never able to watch a few tiny germs unfold, showing themselves ever in new lights, till their possibilities seem almost inexhaustible and they have grown into a great and finely-wrought fabric of sound. Such thinking in sound—progressive thinking—is not the Russian’s way of going about things; his mental process is more akin to brooding, a continual turning over of ideas in his mind, viewing them from different angles throwing them against strange and fantastic backgrounds, but never evolving anything from them.28 Abraham discusses the general development of ideas in Russian music in comparison to the way material is developed in other Western music of the time, namely Beethoven’s. In the previous quote, Abraham is describing the method of development of Russian composers as lacking a sense of direction, or more importantly, a point of arrival. He discusses the sound as being “strange and fantastic”, which further demonstrates the Russian concept of importance of color rather than of form and harmonic structure. This concept is similar to the ideals of the French impressionist movement, which raises questions regarding the actual origin of this movement. Did the Russians actually pioneer the impressionist movement, stumbling upon it by accident because of their lack of musical training? Or did Debussy, with his formal training, deliberately decide to rebel against the constrictive axioms of traditional Western harmony and achieve this unique sound first? Of course there are other distinct differences between impressionist music and that of Russia, but it must be noted that Russian composers were somehow simultaneously composing unique-sounding music while trying to discover and apply the rules of Western music they were never taught. Abraham relays more observations: In more purely musical matters—harmony, counterpoint, and modulation—the working of the Russian mind differs quite as essentially from that of the Western. Harmonic thought is a personal affair, at any rate in the case of a

26 Ibid., 11. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid., 12. 7 mature master… certain harmonic progression stamps a work as (his own) quite as definitely as some of his favorite melodic shapes… The bulk of Russian music is… clearly ‘harmonised’ [sic] The music is conceived in terms of melody and colour; the harmony is a support, a filling-out, a spice—anything but a living organism.29 When Abraham mentions that “harmonic thought is a personal affair”, he is implying that certain traits can identify certain composers’ music as their own. An educated listener can distinguish between the music of prolific Russian composers such as Rimsky- Korsakov and Tchaikovsky or between Stravinsky and Shostakovich based on the composers’ own methods and idiosyncrasies of composing. Abraham also addresses the issue of contrapuntal writing in Russian music: “Genuine contrapuntal feeling, the production of the musical texture by the natural flowing together of parallel, simultaneous streams of thought, is practically unknown in Russian music.”30 Harmonically, it is quite common to find a pivoting on one or two notes that are common to two chords for purposes of modulation.31 This idiosyncrasy also occurs in other non-Russian composers’ music, but the Russians treat this approach in a different manner. Cleverly utilized enharmonic notes can facilitate modulation to distant keys.32 The importance of nationalism is a primary focus of Russian music. The Russians’ lack of training in musical composition led to their attempt to emulate German style. While nationalism was a movement occurring all over Europe and even in the United States, the strongest proponents of nationalism were the Russians. A major method of promoting nationalism is with the use of folksong material. When the movement was in its infancy, Russian composers’ techniques consisted of literal quotes of folksong melodies.33 This treatment eventually evolved into the mimicking of the overall shape and contour of the folk melodies.34 This led to the feeling that the natural folk tune was actually inferior to the newly-contrived one, and in turn seemed less like a genuine folk melody.35 Eventually, the experienced and ingenious composer began to blend folk elements with his own ideas in such a way that distinguishing between the two is difficult.36 After the revolution of 1917 the Russian government actually urged their composers to study and assimilate native music to promote a feeling of national pride and unity.37 Melodic construction is another issue to be addressed. As the church modes became used less frequently, they were replaced with major and minor modes. This transition (from the medieval to baroque eras) occurred roughly 150 years before Russian music emerged. However, Russian folksongs had existed for many centuries prior to the

29 Ibid., 16. 30 Ibid. 31 Ibid., 18-19. 32 Ibid. Abraham provides an example that demonstrates this idea with a modulation from the key of E minor (one sharp) to E-flat minor (six flats). 33 Ibid., 64. 34 Ibid. 35 Ibid., 65. 36 Ibid. 37 Ibid., 14. 8 baroque era, thus these melodies would be largely based on modal schemes. However, the modal scales that were utilized in Russian folk music differ in many respects from those of the Greek or medieval modes. These differences are so pronounced that certain experts prefer to describe them not as modal, but as tonal, with certain degrees flattened or raised.38 These scales provide a vast array of harmonic possibilities and interpretations, making harmonic analysis virtually impossible by the standard system adopted by musicologists and theorists. One particularly complex difference between Western modes and Russian modes is the comparison between the placement of the dominant tone. The dominant tone is on the fifth degree in the Western modes, but the Russian modes can place the dominant tone on varying degrees: the second, third, fourth, or sixth.39 Further complicating matters is that the tonic tone may actually not occur on the first degree of the mode.40 This method dramatically affects harmonic and melodic structure. The Russian modes allow a certain amount of melodic and harmonic liberties, and Russian forms are quite different from traditional Western forms as well. Russian forms convey a sense of freedom in rhythm and melodic structure, lacking in symmetry and any milieu of binary or ternary form.41 This procedure was first regarded as promoting ugliness, disorder, and anarchy, but the apparent lawlessness and chaos in fact falls into order according to a new discipline.42

Russian Trumpet Training

In the latter half of the nineteenth century, the state of training in musical performance in Russia was poor. There were very few accomplished musicians to perform and teach music at a professional level. The most pragmatic solution was to employ foreign musicians of exceptional caliber, namely German musicians. This solution was mutually beneficial to both German musicians and Russian performing ensembles: German musicians needed work as performing opportunities became scarce in Germany due to the growing number of musicians. Russian ensembles needed and gained competent players. Anton Rubenstein, as founder of the Russian Music Society in 1859, initiated the beginnings of the first music training schools in Russia, the St. Petersburg (1862) and Moscow (1866) Conservatories.43 The faculties of these conservatories were predominately German and the conservatories themselves were modeled after the German conservatory tradition.44 The three individuals who were largely responsible for the molding of the Russian trumpet students at the time were all of German descent: Wilhelm Wurm, Oskar Böhme, and Willy Brandt. All three relocated to Russia for better performing and teaching opportunities.

38 Ibid., 29. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid. 41Ibid., 31. 42Ibid., 32. 43 Bruce Cullen Briney, “The Development of Russian Trumpet Methodology and its Influence on the American School” (DM diss., Northwestern University, 1997), 1. 44 Ibid., 13. 9 Wurm was the first German trumpeter to have an influence on Russian trumpet training. He was a member of the Imperial Opera Theater Orchestra for over thirty years from 1847-1878, and was one of the first trumpet instructors at the St. Petersburg Conservatory.45 Wurm performed and taught throughout Russia, influencing musicians as far away as Saratov.46 Equally important was the fact that Russian composers, such as Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-Korsakov, composed orchestral music with Wurm’s sound in mind, after hearing him perform on many occasions.47 There were other foreign influences on the Russian trumpeters of the time as well. J.B. Arban, the famous French cornetist, toured Russia from 1873-1877, performing and promoting French music to the Russian people.48 The English cornetist Jules Levy toured Russia from 1871-1872 and no doubt also had an influence on audiences of the time.49 In 1890, the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra in Moscow hired the German trumpeter Willy (Vassily) Brandt. He remained with the Bolshoi for almost twenty years until 1909.50 He also taught at the Moscow Conservatory from 1900 to 1912 and at the Saratov Conservatory from 1912 until his death in 1923.51 Brandt’s teachings emphasized strength of tone as an important aspect of performance and he further stressed its importance in his popular methods, Orchestra Etudes and Last Etudes, and through his pieces for trumpet.52 Brandt’s influence can be seen in the succeeding generations of trumpet performers. One of his students, Piotr Ljamin, was the trumpet soloist for the premiere performances of Stravinsky’s ballets Petrouchka and The Rite of Spring and succeeded Brandt as Professor of Trumpet at the Saratov Conservatory in 1923.53 Another student, Mikhail Tabakov, was also a member of the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra and professor at the Moscow Conservatory, where he instructed the well- known trumpeter of Russia’s modern era, Timofei Dokshitzer.54 Oskar Böhme is the last of the three German trumpeters to have a significant influence on Russian trumpet training. Böhme was a member of the Mariinsky Theater Orchestra, the St. Petersburg and Leningrad Opera orchestras, and taught at the Leningrad Military College from 1921 to 1936. He is known not only for his performing and teaching influences, but also as a composer of methods, trumpet pieces, and chamber music. His most important work is his “Trumpet Concerto in E minor,” which is quite possibly the most significant solo piece for trumpet from the romantic period.55 After the influence of these respected performers and teachers was established, the Russian conservatory system became a respected source for musical training. Russian musicians began to assume the significant roles in both the performing and

45 Ibid., 19. 46 Ibid., 23. 47 Ibid., 27. 48 Ibid., 15. 49 Ibid., 26. 50 Ibid., 34. 51 Ibid., 35. 52 Ibid., 37. 53Edward H. Tarr, “Willy (Vassily Georgyevich) Brandt – The Early Years,” International Trumpet Guild Journal Vol. 20, No. 4 (May 1996): 56. 54Briney, 37. 55 Ibid., 44. 10 teaching realms. However, the German foundation upon which this education was built had already provided an enormous long-lasting influence. Therefore, it can be stated that the Russian trumpet tradition has its roots in German instruction, methods, and music with a lesser influence from emerging native Russian performers and teachers. In 1912 Mikhail Tabakov was the first native Russian to teach at a Russian school of music.56 Like Brandt, Tabakov was known for his sound and tone color, and he also instilled the importance of sound quality in his students. “Tabakov possessed a beautiful sound of unaccustomed power: everything rounded, dolce, powerful and clear could still be heard in the middle of orchestral fortissimi.”57 Tabakov also stressed the “understanding, organization, and transmission of the emotional content of the music” and the use of “technique as a vehicle for expression and not as a mechanical end in itself.”58 The first trumpet concerto written by a Russian-born composer was by Schelokov in 1929, and was actually dedicated to Tabakov.59 Max Schlossberg, another prominent Russian trumpeter, had a profound influence on the development of trumpet technique and style; however, his influence was seen more in the United States than in Russia. Schlossberg, an important pedagogue and performer, studied at the Moscow Conservatory under German teachers and also spent time studying in Berlin.60 By 1910, Schlossberg was in America playing in the New York Philharmonic, and teaching students who became the next generation of important American players.61 He made an outstanding contribution as a teacher and writer of a renowned method, Daily Drills and Studies for Trumpet. During the second half of the nineteenth century, the tradition of writing for the cornet in the orchestral realm began to fade and it was replaced with the trumpet.62 Russian nationalists began to compose more demanding music for the trumpet, and etude books such as Brandt’s were written to prepare students for this new challenge.63 Russian orchestral music contributed to a period of great importance for the trumpet in modern literature.

Conclusions

Russian music has had a rich and varied history since the music of Glinka in the 1830s. Although Russian music has gone through many developments and changes, one ideal remains constant: nationalism has played an important role in the minds of Russian composers. Folksong influence was very commonplace, demonstrated by the use of unusual modes, free melodic structure and rhythm, and non-traditional forms. Because of these special traits, Russian music has been very difficult to categorize and analyze. Many musicologists describe Russian music with abstract and vague

56 Ibid., 45. 57 Georgy Orvid, S. Riaouzov, trans. Romain Brot, “Mikhail Innokentievich Tabakov, 1877-1956. Founder of the Soviet Trumpet School”, Brass Bulletin 22 (1978): 66-67. 58 Ibid. 59 Briney, 51. 60 Ibid., 125. 61Ibid. 62 Ibid., 142. 63 Ibid. 11 portrayals accentuating its chaotic, unorganized--yet expressive--emotional sound. These traits contribute to the uniqueness of Russian music and, although difficult to explain, they set Russian music apart from that of the rest of Europe and the world and make it readily recognizable. The Russian approach to the trumpet was largely affected by German tradition. The first performers with exceptional skill on the instrument in Russia were Germans searching for more performing opportunities. Their influence shaped the education of future trumpeters in Russia. Wurm, Brandt, and Böhme were important teachers who contributed to this influence through their performing, teaching, and composing. The key element that distinguishes the Russian trumpet sound from others is this German foundation coupled with the distinct sense of emotion, passion, and drive: the anomaly that is Russian nationalism.

12

CHAPTER 2

TIMOFEI DOKSHITZER

Introduction

Since the early 1940s, Timofei Dokshitzer has been the most prominent trumpet soloist in Russia and, subsequently, one of the most respected trumpet performers in the world. His influence on the development of Russian trumpet literature during the twentieth century has been immense. Most of the trumpet literature written in Russia since World War II was written with Dokshitzer in mind, and he has recorded a majority of those pieces. Dokshitzer spent many years performing with the famous Bolshoi Theater Orchestra, one of the finest ensembles in Russia. His solo, orchestral, conducting, and teaching career has had a profound impact not only in Russia, but around the world.

Early Musical Life64

Timofei Dokshitzer was born December 13, 1921 in Nezhin, the Ukraine. Dokshitzer came from a family with an extensive musical background. Dokshitzer’s father was not formally trained in music, but he often played the violin, horn, and percussion instruments. He also had a talent for composition and arranging, and was the director of many local orchestras. Dokshitzer’s three paternal uncles were also musicians and were responsible for the organization of the orchestra in their hometown. Many of Dokshitzer’s relatives of his generation were also musicians. His brother Vladimir was a professional trumpet player and college music professor. A cousin, Lev, was a graduate of the Moscow Conservatory and a conductor. Another cousin, Alexander, was a trumpeter in many orchestras in Moscow. Even Dokshitzer’s only child, Sergey, became a trumpet player, but changed to the bassoon as a result of lip irritation. Dokshitzer’s ancestors originated in the Belorussian village of Dokshitzi, whose name was derived from the name of his great-grandfather.65 Today, this area is the district center in the Vitebsk region. The family of Dokshitzer’s great-grandfather settled

64 All information contained in this chapter is derived from Dokshitzer’s biography Timofei Dokshitzer, Memoirs of Timofei Dokshitzer (Westfield: International Trumpet Guild, 1997). 65 Timofei Dokshitzer, Memoirs of Timofei Dokshitzer (Westfield: International Trumpet Guild, 1997), 17. 13 there at the end of the eighteenth or at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and subsequent generations remained there for many years.66 Dokshizter’s father earned money by composing music for silent films. The income from this job was not enough to support the family, so he supplemented it by working as a gardener. Social unrest was common during this time, and young Timofei tried to cope with the swiftly changing events that would mix emotions of happiness and fear. Lenin initiated the New Economic Policy in 1921 and, at first, the citizens flourished both economically and socially. These prosperous times quickly faded however when the NEP was abolished and poverty reigned. Trying to escape the hardships, the Dokshitzer family relocated to Moscow in 1932. During the summer of 1932, Timofei Dokshitzer was assigned to play in the orchestra of the 62nd Cavalry Regiment. It was commonplace during these times for military divisions to train young boys in various disciplines. It was in this regiment that Dokshitzer began to practice the trumpet more methodically. After three years of service in the army, Dokshitzer decided to leave to devote more time to study.

Trumpet Study

At age 14 Dokshitzer entered the preparatory Central Music School of the Moscow Conservatory as the first student to study a brass instrument at the school. His acceptance was due mainly to the insistence of Dokshitzer’s teacher, Mikhail Tabakov, that brass instruments were worthy of inclusion in the Conservatory’s curriculum. While at the CMS, Dokshitzer became acquainted with Vladimir Peskin, a composer at the school. Peskin was the first composer to write a piece for Timofei Dokshitzer-- a virtuosic piece titled Scherzo, the first of many works to be written for Dokshitzer during his career. The work was very difficult, and Dokshitzer was reluctant to learn it, because he was not certain if it was possible to play. After practicing the piece, Dokshitzer began to enjoy the music and came to the realization that his technique was underdeveloped. Dokshitzer was soon performing Peskin’s Scherzo at numerous concerts. Upon completing his studies at the CMS in 1939, Dokshitzer was preparing to enter the Moscow Conservatory, but instead toured Mongolia with the Balalaika Orchestra, a group with whom he had been playing since his early army days.

World War II

In the summer of 1942, Dokshitzer was drafted into the Russian army. His post was in the Exemplary Orchestra of Moscow Military District. Playing music became secondary to patrolling and guarding Moscow, which was the front line of defense against the German army. Moscow was bombed every night. The orchestra musicians toted their instruments and rifles, standing guard on various rooftops and other strategic locations. In early 1943 the Russian troops drove the Germans far away from Moscow and there was a sense of relief and celebration in the city, providing more of a demand for

66 Ibid. 14 music. These were triumphant and bittersweet times for many of the Russian people, and Dokshitzer’s orchestra did much for morale. He describes his feelings on this: Many people, sometimes even the musicians themselves, did not recognize the value and role of music during the war, either at bloody battles or at the rear. But one should have seen the faces of those who had left everything behind, to go somewhere unknown: the old men, women, children who left their homes and lost their hearts—for whom it seemed that life was over. When they heard the sounds of the band, they cried and hugged each other, shouting, ‘Music! It means life. It means not everything is over. It means there will be victory!’ It was an expression of despair mingled with hope and recovery. Watching this, it was impossible to play; we were choking with tears, breathing unsteadily. Those moments are unforgettable.67 Dokshitzer’s military service was completed with the war’s end after a victory parade in the summer of 1945. Just prior to the war’s end, Dokshitzer won a position with the famed Bolshoi Theater Orchestra, a position he retained for 40 years.

Family

World War II claimed the lives of Dokshitzer’s two younger brothers, Lev and Abrasha. Despite this tragedy, there was some joy in the life of Dokshitzer following the war. Dokshitzer married Faina Havkina, a girl whom he met before the war began. Faina was also a musician but was a teacher by profession. Timofei and Faina had a son, Sergey, on September 4, 1948. Many members of Faina’s family died early in their lives and, unfortunately, this same fate befell Faina, who died at age 49. Dokshitzer hired Monna Rachgus, a talented sculptor, to create the elaborate tombstone that marks Faina’s grave. Through the many hours of collaboration on the tombstone, a relationship developed and the two were married two years later. Dokshitzer’s son, Sergey, went on to marry and have a daughter of his own.

Dokshitzer the Conductor

In 1951 Dokshitzer enrolled in the Symphony Orchestra Conductors Department of the Moscow Conservatory. Dokshitzer credits his study of conducting for contributing much to his career as a trumpet performer; however, despite the positive aspects conducting brought to his career, Dokshitzer constantly struggled with the feeling that he was not meant to be on the podium. Upon graduation from the Conservatory, Dokshitzer auditioned for and won a position as assistant conductor at the Bolshoi Theater. His colleagues and supervisors praised his work on the podium, and told him he was destined to become a great conductor. However, Dokshitzer still had doubts about his future as a conductor. He diligently studied scores and took his position as seriously as he did his trumpet playing, but he felt he needed to make a choice and devote himself fully to either

67 Ibid. 46. 15 conducting or playing the trumpet. In 1971, twenty years after commencing conducting studies, his decision was made for him as many positions were dissolved at the Bolshoi Theater, including his conducting post. The experiences Dokshitzer had as a conductor gave him additional skills that enhanced his career as a trumpet performer.

Political Effects on Music in Russia

Josef Stalin, leader of Russia from 1924 to 1953, occasionally attended performances at the Bolshoi Theater, where Dokshitzer was performing in the orchestra. The distance between the government box and Dokshitzer’s place on the stage was approximately 45 feet, and when the brass section would look at the conductor, they also had a view of the government seating area.68 The audience could not see Stalin, as there was a bulletproof wall separating him from the rest of the auditorium. Long before Stalin would arrive at the theater, his security squad would take their positions on stage within the orchestra. They watched the brass players’ movements very closely, especially when they were reaching for their mutes, which resembled bombs. Dokshitzer believes that Stalin was most interested in the Russian operas with historical stories that contained political or heroic figures, such as Ivan the Terrible, Boris Godunov, and Peter the Great.69 Dokshitzer never saw Stalin at performances of Russian operas that depicted the Tsar in a negative light, such as Rimsky-Korsakov’s Tale of Tzar Saltan. Stalin did support the theater, but he was very restrictive as to what works were performed. The repertoire was meticulously judged by the Central Committee of the Communist Party. If this group had any doubts as to the appropriateness of the work, Stalin himself would view the performance and decide if it would be performed. Months of work and composers’ futures could be crushed if Stalin did not approve. The most tense and difficult performances at the Bolshoi Theater were given to an audience of just one. One such opera that did not get approval with which Dokshitzer was involved was a new work by Muradeli, entitled The Great Friendship. Stalin was furious that this modern-day opera did not include him as the main character, and he put an end to all future performances. This incident led to the declaration of the Central Committee that works by all modern Russian composers, including favorites Prokofiev and Shostakovich, be subject to examination. Khruschev abolished this act after Stalin’s death. During the 1930s, acts of violence and revolution were occurring in protest of Stalin. One such incident was to take place at the Bolshoi Theater, the plot of which was devised by several of the theater’s musicians. This plan failed, but the perpetrators faced certain death if discovered. Dokshitzer knew the identity of the guilty parties, but because the government was unable to discern who was behind it, no one was punished, and the musicians who plotted against Stalin remained in the orchestra until retirement. Communist policy prohibited Russian citizens from working two jobs. This included musicians who wished to teach students, which was not considered their main employment. This philosophy was developed to prevent the common person from becoming wealthy and, as a result, the progress of young musicians in Russia was

68 Ibid. 83. 69 Ibid. 16 stunted. Professional musicians in Russia would usually choose their performing jobs over teaching, but some would work their performing engagements for long periods of time without pay in order not to abandon students they had been teaching for years. Most of Russia’s population publicly praised Stalin and the good he was accomplishing for the country. This was deemed necessary because any negative words could result in severe disciplinary action. Behind closed doors, however, many wept at the destruction and unfair policies that were being forced upon the Russian people. Dokshitzer shared these views and he “understood what evil Stalin carried to the people. It was possible to think about it, but impossible to share such thoughts with anyone.”70

Dokshitzer the Soloist

Dokshitzer’s experience as a soloist began during his enlistment with the army when he was very young. The army presented many amateur concerts and Dokshitzer was a frequent performer at such events.71 His schooling at the Moscow Conservatory also included many solo performances. His reliable performances within various touring orchestras prompted conductors to suggest and offer opportunities for him to perform soloistically.72 Dokshitzer was fortunate enough to play the solo parts on the premier performances of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7 and Symphony No. 11. His fine playing led to his being asked to play solos and concertos with the orchestra both in Russia and on tour to foreign countries. In the late 1950s, Dokshitzer performed in China, Bulgaria, Germany, United States, Sweden, Finland, Japan, Poland, Yugoslavia, Switzerland, and numerous other countries. As his popularity grew, so did the number of solo appearances. He began to add concert- lectures to his billing, presenting these at universities in the United States and throughout the world. The tours throughout Russia were very rigorous, and Dokshitzer would frequently have many performances in the same city. A major portion of these programs included Dokshitzer’s own arrangements of classical works. His touring career spanned three decades, from the 1960s through the 1980s. Dokshitzer would not use printed music at his solo performances. He explains his reasoning for this: I also did not use music at concerts, even when performing a solo piece for the first time. I’ve become accustomed to performing only when the music is inside of me. I am often asked how I can achieve this and how I prepare for it. Usually the music finds its way into my memory by itself during the process of preparation. If it does not happen, it means that the process of getting the feel of the piece is not over yet, and I continue to study it as a whole piece, as well as study individual phrases. This is my practice.73

70 Ibid. 86. 71 Ibid. 121. 72 Ibid. 127. 73 Ibid. 129. 17 Dokshitzer’s success never affected his humility. His modesty is clearly revealed by the following statement : I never suffered from the syndrome of self-praise when it came to self-evaluation. My highest appraisal was always satisfactory, that is what I allowed myself to say aloud… However, I felt that others thought much better about my performances than I did. This was important for me. It inspired and motivated me. My modest self-evaluation was not just a pretense—it was a defense against head-spinning. When I hear my students telling one another, ‘I played splendidly. Everyone praised me,’ I think that is also some sort of a defense. But from what? Is it a desire to show oneself better than he is or is it a defense from criticism?74

Collaboration with Composers

Because of Dokshitzer’s rising popularity, composers often approached him either to show him a piece they had already written for the trumpet, or to discuss the prospect of composing a new work. Dokshitzer is responsible for the composition of many new pieces for the trumpet between 1939 and 1990 either through commission, dedication, or by providing suggestions for idiomatic trumpet writing. His input to composers regarding their pre-existing pieces has resulted in the vast improvement of many works. Even though some of the more famous concertos by Russian composers were not written specifically for him, (i.e. those by Arutunian and Pakhmutova), Dokshitzer resurrected many pieces, leading to their becoming some of the most-performed works for trumpet. Dokshitzer even composed the cadenza to the Arutunian Concerto that is now considered virtually integral to the work. It is included in the International Music Company’s publication of the piece. Some of the most significant works written for Dokshitzer were by the leading Russian twentieth-century composers, including Vainberg, Tamberg, Rauhverger, Rakov, Vier, Krjukov, Nesterov, Krasotov, and Shakhov. Dokshitzer blames himself for the lack of any solo trumpet pieces by Shostakovich in the repertoire. Shostakovich attended a number of performances by Dokshitzer, including Vainberg’s Concerto and Jolivet’s Concertino. During their brief backstage meetings after the performances, they discussed the possibility of a new solo piece. Shostakovich was very impressed by Dokshitzer’s playing and seemed enthusiastic about composing a piece for him. Dokshitzer was hesitant about persuing the matter too vigorously due to his great respect for the composer. The two never formally met to discuss the collaboration. It may be speculation, but perhaps if they would have had just one meeting, it would have been the catalyst to bring the project to fruition.75

74 Ibid. 130. 75 Ibid., 147-8. 18 Dokshitzer was selected to take part in the revival of Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto, which remained unperformed for many years after its premiere in 1933.76 Dokshitzer later arranged this piece as a trumpet concerto.

Touring Difficulties

During Dokshitzer’s extensive touring career, the Soviet government occasionally prohibited him from leaving the country. Often these restrictions were relayed to Dokshitzer the day before he was to depart, nonchalantly destroying weeks of arranged tour plans. One such incident occurred when Dokshitzer was planning to attend the 1984 conference of the International Trumpet Guild at Indiana University. Many in attendance at the conference were so infuriated by this action that they wrote a joint letter to Ronald Reagan, President of the United States, and to Soviet leader Chernenko. Reagan sent a reply to the protestors, but none was received from Chernenko.77 A particularly frustrating situation came in 1980 when he was preparing to depart on a 15-concert tour of Japan. During this time, war had erupted in Afghanistan and the Olympic Games were to take place in Moscow. Many countries believed that the war caused by the Soviets was unjust and as a result, boycotted the Olympics. All preparations were finalized, and Dokshitzer was set to leave. Dokshitzer then received a phone call from an authority of the KGB informing him that his first concert would be cancelled due to the fact that the town newspaper of the town in which he was to perform published a very negative article about the Soviet government. This was the KGB’s way of punishing the newspaper. Dokshitzer, not wanting to anger the government, agreed with their decision and told them that the other 14 concerts would be just fine, but a higher order came down which cancelled the entire tour without reimbursing the losses. Later Dokshitzer discovered that he and his son were placed on an alert list of those who were not permitted to leave the country. Apparently Dokshitzer had done something or was thought to have done something that was considered rebellious and he was not allowed to tour for some time. Eventually the vice-minister of the Ministry of Culture--whom Dokshitzer knew quite well--and the Director of the Bolshoi Theater convinced the committee responsible for issuing travel visas that Dokshitzer was trustworthy enough to tour abroad. On his next trip, which was to Finland, he was accompanied by a chaperone from the Ministry of Culture. One extremely disturbing event occurred when Dokshitzer received an invitation to perform at the 1996 International Trumpet Guild Conference in London. Again, after initial approval was granted, Dokshitzer was refused final permission to go. Dokshitzer reacted to the hypocrisy this time and wrote a letter to the Culture Department of the government. He also sent a telegram to London to inform the host of the conference that he would not be able to attend due to the “intransigent bureaucracy of the Ministry of Culture’s workers.”78

76 Ibid. 148-9. 77 Ibid., 135. 78 Ibid. 140. 19 Soon afterward, Dokshitzer received a phone call from the vice director of the Committee of External Relations, who summoned him to a meeting. It was obvious to Dokshitzer that word of the telegram had gotten back to the government, and he was very uneasy about what was to take place at this meeting. Russian citizens had been executed in the past for acts considered to be treason even less severe than Dokshitzer’s letter. Fortunately, the meeting passed without incident and Dokshitzer was released. Future years brought many changes to government policies concerning traveling abroad. Now it is much easier to secure permission to travel in and out of Russia. Dokshitzer also experienced some hostility in the United States in response to the Cold War. In 1979 he was scheduled to give a lecture in Cleveland, but the building was blocked by protesters shouting at Dokshitzer in protest of the war in Afghanistan. Someone from inside the building escorted him inside, and the lecture began. In the middle of the lecture, an unruly person entered the room and chaos began to spread. The lecture had to be moved to a different location because someone reported a bomb threat. Dokshitzer managed to escape unscathed, but people were protesting and directing anti- Soviet propaganda at him as he left.

Relocating to Lithuania

Dokshitzer and his wife moved to Lithuania in 1990 to escape the escalation of political unrest that still remained in Russia. The restrictions on Dokshitzer’s work, coupled with a revitalized surge of anti-Semitism, were the main reasons for their leaving. Dokshitzer was also struggling with a governmental system with which he did not agree or understand.79 His wish to stay close to his Russian roots kept him from moving to the United States or Europe. The couple settled in Vilnius, where he had previously taught many of the local musicians. Dokshitzer believed he could blend in to his surroundings and participate in the musical community, but there were more government blockages. Lithuania was the first territory of Russia to declare its independence, and Moscow initiated economic sanctions against them. Lithuania seemingly regressed to the nineteenth century as horse-and-carriage transportation replaced cars. The cost of heating skyrocketed, and civil unrest spread. In early 1991, armed forces from Moscow arrived in Vilnius to keep order. Tanks were brought in and Dokshitzer watched from his third-floor apartment as innocent civilians were injured and killed.

Later Life

To add grief to an already miserable situation, Dokshitzer suffered three heart attacks in the span of two years. He had already undergone major heart surgery in 1989 in Rotterdam, Holland, the financing of which was supported by trumpet colleagues all over the world. He again had to face surgery on January 24, 1991. His son Sergey was also hospitalized for heart troubles during the same time, but in Moscow. They conversed on the phone, vowing to meet as soon as they were both feeling better. Two

79 Ibid. 197. 20 weeks passed and Dokshitzer was released from the hospital. After arriving home, his brother informed him that Sergey had died on January 27. This sad news caused Dokshitzer’s health to deteriorate to the point that readmission to the hospital was necessary. After a long recovery, he was able to walk again with the use of a cane. In 1991 Dokshitzer received an invitation to teach at the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki, Finland. This was a saving grace for Dokshitzer’s spirits, but his health was slower to recover. His general health was greatly affected by the changes in weather. Barometric fluctuations bothered him. In March of 1992, a severe thunderstorm passed through and the effects were very harsh on Dokshitzer. He was bedridden and felt as if he were having a chronic heart attack. The feeling persisted even after a visit to the doctor produced a normal cardiogram. He had a brief respite from the illness for two days where he felt well enough to play. This enabled him to attend the scheduled recording session for his arrangement of Shostakovich’s Concerto. His performing career appeared to be finished. He decided that he could not control those factors that would lead to a satisfying performance any longer. He had to cancel future performances and lectures, and he began to feel the void left by his beloved instrument. He describes his decision: What made me quit playing the trumpet at this time, not earlier or later? The increased tension during the preparatory preconcert period is a very normal condition for every artist. It mobilizes energy, will, and attention. But when the artist’s condition on stage depends not on efficiently done preparatory work, nor or will and concentration, but on external factors and conditions, such as weather, there is nothing one can do but give in. One cannot fight against nature.80

Dokshitzer’s decision did not last long, however, and he was actually performing in public again by 1992. He went back to lecturing in the United States and Europe. He even produced more records and continued to write arrangements for his collection of Marc Reift publications. In December 1996, Dokshitzer celebrated his seventy-fifth birthday at the Bolshoi Theater with friends, family, and colleagues. A special ballet was performed in his honor, and he was permitted to sit in the Tsar’s box with his family. Everyone applauded him in respect and admiration. Dokshitzer was deeply touched by the special occasion. Timofei Dokshitzer has left a lasting legacy for the trumpet world. He has written and arranged many pieces for the trumpet, and he has recorded every major work for the trumpet written by Soviet composers. The combination of arrangements and pieces written for him is an enormous addition to the literature. The many lives he has touched through his performances and teaching will be passed on through many generations.

80Ibid. 206. 21

CHAPTER 3

OSKAR BÖHME’S TRUMPET CONCERTO IN F MINOR

The Life of Oskar Böhme (1870-1938?)

Oskar Böhme was born February 24, 1870 in Potschappel, near Dresden, Germany. His first trumpet lessons were from his father, Wilhelm, who was a local trumpeter. Oskar attended the Leipzig Conservatory of Music as a trumpet and composition student and graduated in 1888. There are no records of his activities between the years of 1888 and 1894, but it is thought that he may have toured as a soloist and perhaps performed in spa orchestras during the summers. In 1894, Böhme relocated to Budapest, where until 1896 he performed in the orchestra of the Royal Hungarian Opera House. His activities during the year of 1896 are also unknown, as one source places him back in Leipzig with additional composition study and another places him in St. Petersburg, Russia. Böhme was certainly in St. Petersberg by 1897, as a member of the orchestra at the Mariinsky Theater until 1921. From 1921 to 1930, Böhme taught at a music school on Vasilievsky Island, and from 1930 to 1934, he played in the Leningrad Drama Theater Orchestra. From 1934 to 1936, he taught at a music school in Chaklov, now known as Orenburg. It is known that he was teaching at this school until at least 1938, at which time it is presumed he died. However, there is a claim that he was still alive and was seen in Turkmenistan in 1941. The correct information may never be known. There was a strong trumpet background in the Böhme family. Oskar had an older brother, William (1861-1928), who was also a trumpeter. In 1897 William became the first trumpet professor at the National Hungarian Royal Music Academy--now known as the Franz Liszt Music Academy. He then won the position his brother had occupied in the Royal Hungarian Opera House Orchestra, playing there from 1889 to 1908. It was William’s appointment as Professor of the Academy that prompted Oskar to move to Russia, for he saw little chance for career advancement in Budapest. William also performed with the Bayreuth Festival Orchestra from 1891 to 1901. He eventually retired from performing and teaching in late 1908, the result of a severe illness. Upon retirement, he returned to his hometown of Potschappel to open his own music school. William Böhme died in 1928. There is a lack of corroborative information regarding the activities of Oskar Böhme at various periods of his life. It would seem to stem from the fact that while he was performing in various orchestras much of the time, it is likely he was also touring as a soloist during the years for which there is no record. While the general public enjoyed cornet solos, critics and scholars of the day did not consider this genre legitimate, 22 therefore choosing not to review many performances that took place. Dr. Edward Tarr, an eminent trumpet scholar and researcher, discovered programs which featured Oskar as cornet soloist, and even discovered one where he was performing in duo with his brother William.77 After World War I there was a very strong anti-German attitude in the Russian government. This sentiment, coupled with an important event, led to harsh actions against foreigners in Russia. On December 1, 1934, Sergey Mironovich Kirov, Central Committee Secretary under Stalin, was assassinated in Leningrad. Stalin used this incident as an excuse to rid the city of all persons of questionable loyalty. Many artists were wrongly linked to this group and were placed under arrest. Between 30,000 and 40,000 people were detained for character assessment. A special committee was formed to determine the fate of these unfortunate people. The authorities placed in charge of the musician prisoners were ignorant about music and therefore placed little value on the lives of the musicians. Foreign musicians were typically ostracized from the city to remote, barren regions. Oskar Böhme encountered such a fate, which led to him teaching at a music school east of Leningrad near the Ural Mountains in 1936. It is possible that he was imprisoned during his 1934-1936 hiatus from public record. Regardless of his unfortunate banishment from the musical cultural center of Russia, Oskar Böhme made a significant contribution to Russian music. He was well known during his tenure in various orchestras, and his compositions gained popularity during his lifetime. His best known compositions for the trumpet are the Trompetensextett in E-flat minor, op. 30, published in 1907, his book of twenty-four etudes, op. 30, and his Trumpet Concerto, op. 18.

The Trumpet Concerto in F Minor, op. 18

Oskar Böhme’s trumpet concerto was actually first written in E minor for trumpet in A. The dedication is to Böhme’s trumpet teacher at the Leipzig Conservatory, Ferdinand Weinschenk. The concerto was first published in 1899 as a score for trumpet and piano. It is estimated that the orchestral version followed soon thereafter, circa 1902 or 1903. It was published in several editions in its original key of E minor until Franz Herbst revised the work in 1941 and raised the key to F minor for the B-flat trumpet. Herbst included several editorial breath marks and deleted fourteen measures from the original version. This is the edition currently available from the D. Rahter Publishing Company in Hamburg. Relatively little to no information was known about Oskar Böhme until 1969 when Russian musicologist Sergey Bolotin first published biographical information about him in his Biographical Dictionary of Musicians and Wind-Instrument Players [in Russia].78 Trumpeter Max Sommerhalder completed further research as his interest in Böhme was heightened while holding the principal trumpet position of the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra from 1976 to 1979. Sommerhalder discovered many of Böhme’s compositions in libraries in and around Berlin. In 1980 and 1981, Sommerhalder made

77 Edward H. Tarr, “The Böhme Brothers, Oskar and Willi,” International Trumpet Guild Journal (September, 1997): 20. 78Ibid. 16. 23 the first commercial recording of many of Böhme’s pieces, including his Trumpet Concerto in F Minor. Interest in Böhme grew throughout Europe as a result of that recording, and in 1983, Lars Næss of Oslo, Norway conducted research of his own for a master’s thesis on the concerto. A significant accomplishment as part of this project was the first and only recording (by Næss) of this work in its original key of E minor (see Appendix B for recording information). Since that time, many recordings of this work have been made, including two by Russian trumpeter Timofei Dokshitzer (see Appendix I for a complete list of known recordings of the Böhme concerto). Although Böhme was German in origin, his long tenure in Russia marks him as one of those German performers who exhibited a profound influence over Russian music, hence the piece’s inclusion in this discussion of Russian trumpet literature. The concerto’s style can be compared to that of more conservative nationalistic pieces of Russia, by the use of folk-style melodies when combined with less sophisticated harmonies. The concerto follows typical concerto form, which is a three-movement form based on a fast-slow-fast tempo pattern. The form of the first movement is A B A' C A A' B' Introduction Reprise A' Coda, with a 6-bar introduction preceding the thematic material. The key scheme for the respective sections, including the introduction, is as follows: F minor, F minor, A-flat major, F minor, C major, F minor, F-sharp minor/G major, E-flat major, F minor, F minor, D-flat major/F minor. This may be more easily seen by using the following table:

Table 1: Mvt. 1 thematic statements. Section Intro A B A' C A A' B' Intro. Rep. A' Coda Key f f A-flat f C f G E-flat f V7 f D-flat/f

In the table above, minor keys are indicated by a lower case letter. There is nothing unusual about the key progression of the first movement, but certain sections merit further discussion. For instance, the section marked as “C” in the form only briefly stays in the key of C major, after which it moves through a series of harmonic progressions that lead it back to the home key of F minor. This passage is uniquely written, as the trumpet’s solo line is a succession of arpeggios outlining the chords that modulate to F minor. See example 6 for the musical reference of this section. Another interesting harmonic section is the second variation of the A theme. In the statement of the unaltered A material which precedes the variation, Böhme only uses the second half of the melody to shorten the section and then lead it to a sudden modulation of the melody to a whole step above in the major mode. The passage that contains the second variation of the A theme can be seen in example 8. Another unusual harmonic pattern occurs between the last variation of A and the coda. Note the modulation here; the progression moves from F minor to D-flat major. This is a deceptive cadence that adds an element of surprise as the movement draws to a close. The section only briefly stays in D-flat however, and the home key of F minor is 24 quickly established for the final cadence of the movement. This passage can be seen in example 9. The second movement is simpler in both harmony and form. It is a beautiful lyrical movement in ternary form. The six-measure introduction in D-flat major leads to the A material, which is in the same key. The only peculiarity in the harmony of this movement occurs between the first A section and the B section, which is in B-flat major. Böheme chooses a very chromatic progression that modulates from G minor to B minor, to D major, and then finally to the new key of B-flat major. This modulation, like the one in example 8, has no preparation and thus takes the listener by surprise. The B section moves back to the A theme with a more conventional modulation. The end of the movement cadences in D-flat major, which leads into an Allegretto Interlude that connects the second and third movements. This short passage prepares the modulation into the final movement’s key of F major by accentuating the dominant seventh of that key at the end of the phrase. The third movement is in rondo form and has a very simple key structure. As is typical in rondo form, the themes alternate around the A section in this movement: A B A C Interlude A Coda. As with the other two movements, there is a short introduction which precedes the A material. All of the A sections and the Coda are in F major, while the B section is in G major and the C material is in B-flat major. The interlude that is heard before the last A section reprises a fragment of the A theme of the first movement in F minor. In the following section, musical examples are included to aid in the discussion. In all musical examples in this chapter, it is to be assumed the key signature is two flats for the B-flat trumpet unless otherwise noted.

Movement 1

After a short introduction that firmly establishes the key in F minor, the trumpet enters with this melody:

Ex. 1: Böhme Concerto, Mvt. I, mm. 7-11.

This melody already meets an important criterion of Russian nationalist writing. The relative range is narrow at the beginning, accentuating the tonic by repeating a dominant-tonic relationship. The phrase is comprised of a simple diatonic melodic line, a characteristic of Russian folksong.

25 The large leaps of the twelfth (octave plus a fourth) and the octave respectively in measure ten can be difficult for the trumpeter to execute smoothly. This four-measure phrase fragment leads to the dominant where a slight pause should be taken before continuing with the rest of the phrase. The phrase develops predictably until measure 15 where a normal eight-measure phrase would end. However, Böhme includes a deceptive cadence to extend the phrase another two measures (see Ex. 2).

Ex. 2: Mvt. I, mm. 12-18.

Another adherence to Russian nationalism is in the phrase shown in example 3. Repetitive rhythmic motives are commonly found in Russian nationalist music. The sextuplet idea begun in measure seventeen is repeated once and then repeated another two times as a sequential pattern. The trumpet line then ascends through an A-flat major scale to a pinnacle of c3. Another sequence begins a third lower which leads into a two- octave B-flat major arpeggio (the major subdominant), thus setting up the modulatory transition into the relative major key of A-flat.

Ex. 3: Mvt. I, mm. 17-28. 26 At this point the character of the piece changes to a more cantabile mood and new material is presented in this B section, shown in example 4. Again the melody is strictly diatonic with the exception of the concert B-natural, which is simply the fifth of the E-flat augmented chord in measures 32 and 36.

Ex. 4: Mvt. I, mm. 31-38.

The phrase continues at measure 40 with some rapid scale passages, the first being a descending A-flat major scale coming to rest on the sixth degree and the second an ascending octave chromatic passage in a somewhat awkward rhythm (see Ex. 5).

Ex. 5: Mvt. I, mm. 40-55.

The trumpeter must use caution when executing this passage, as the tendency is to accelerate through the scale and arrive at the next measure too early. Following this is a new phrase derived from the B theme. Measure 44 presents the use of a non-diatonic

27 note when the D is sounded, as in measures 32 and 36 with the use of the B-natural. The difference here is that the D is again the fifth of the chord, but of a G-sharp diminished triad. The lyrical phrase that follows gradually brings the pitch center back to the home key of F minor at measure 55. After the following piano interlude of twelve measures, reminiscent of the movement’s opening, the trumpet begins the C material as shown in Example 6.

Ex. 6: Mvt. I, mm. 67-84.

The trumpet plays what seems like secondary material through this entire section. Most of it cannot be considered melodic, as it is an arpeggiated ostinato motive. The intention here is a display of the trumpeter’s technical prowess, as it is extremely difficult to execute this passage cleanly at the tempo indicated, which is quarter note equals 108. Many players slightly relax the tempo in this section. Special attention should be focused on the trill in measure 70. This is actually an error, as the natural sign has been omitted from above the trill. It has been accepted that the intent of the composer was a trill from A to B-natural, not A to B-flat, as indicated in the published version. Trumpeters are advised to play this as a lip trill as this method usually results in a more clear execution

28 than a valve trill. There is another error in measure 74; the last note of the measure should be an eighth note, not a sixteenth as printed. There has also been some disagreement about the articulation of the sextuplets in measure 80. Some trumpeters believe that the printed articulation is in error and should agree with that of the sextuplets of the previous measure, which is a repeated slur two tongue one pattern versus a repeated tongue one slur two pattern respectively (see meas. 79 and 80 of Ex. 6). Examination of the original edition of the score published by P. Jurgenson á Leipsic et Moscou confirms the latter articulation pattern is correct, as shown in example 7. Both publications are in agreement which should clear up any controversy over this passage.

Ex. 7: Böhme Concerto Mvt. I, m. 80, P. Jurgenson á Leipsic et Moscou edition.

At measure 81 the A theme returns with a brief statement by the piano followed by the trumpet, which repeats the second half of the A theme as found in example 2. A clever modulatory passage suddenly takes the melody from F minor to G major, and an arpeggiated passage leads to the end of the phrase and section (see Ex. 8). At this point, a

Ex. 8: Mvt. I, mm. 96-102.

slight discrepancy exists between the original version and the modern edition. On beat three of measure 96, the original version has a mordent over the concert F-sharp, while the modern version contains no indication of any ornamentation whatsoever. Another modulatory transistion by the piano is begun in measure 103 that leads to yet another key, but this time E-flat major. At measure 107 the trumpet enters with the B 29 theme as shown in example 4, but this time in E-flat major. This melody is a variation of the one found in the trumpet part at measure 47 and leads to a cadence in E-flat major. At this point the piano continues with another transition that is again reminiscent of the statement at the opening of the movement. The piano punctuates a dominant- seventh chord in measure 134 and the trumpeter has two choices: either continue on to measure 135 or perform a cadenza. There is a cadenza indication in parenthesis at measure 134 in the trumpet part. There is no suggested cadenza included with the published part and there is no indication of a cadenza in the piano score. On his recording of the Böhme Concerto, Armando Ghitalla performs a brilliant, virtuosic cadenza. Timofei Dokshitzer, on his recording of the Böhme, does not play a cadenza. Ultimately, a cadenza is up to the performer’s discretion. Measure 135 marks the return to the home key and A material (see Ex. 9).

Ex. 9: Mvt. I, mm. 135-157.

The trumpet, for the third time in this movement, presents the second half of the A theme shown in example 2, but in a rhythmic variation. The trumpeter’s virtuosity is again tested as the part calls for double-tonguing of the theme. This progresses to a coda 30 passage at measure 141 that passes through a brief focus on the submediant, in which the trumpet ascends a D-flat major scale, followed by another scale passage in F melodic minor. An ascending repetition of a B diminished-seventh chord leads to an extended virtuosic passage stressing the tonic to dominant progression until a final flourish brings the movement to an exciting close. The modern edition deviates considerably from the original in this section. At measure 149 in the original version, the music makes a repeat back to measure 135 where the double-tonguing display occurs again. This repeat is omitted from the modern version.

Movement 2

Movement II is a short movement in ternary form, with a hymn-like mood. The movement is titled Adagio religioso and the melody is possibly derived from a hymn. This could be homage to both the German and Russian religious traditions. German religious services used hymns extensively. Russian culture is also known for placing a high priority on orthodox religious beliefs. Böhme’s German roots are evident with the hymn style presented, so he may have felt this type of music could be especially appealing to a culture with a strong religious base. The entire second movement is given in example 10. The movement begins at a very slow tempo (quarter note equals 48) with a brief piano introduction. The trumpet’s theme enters in measure seven in the key of D-flat major. The idea of repeated rhythmic patterns is evident in this first phrase. Böhme constructed his melody using a two recurring rhythmic motives. The first motive is a dotted quarter note followed by three eighth note pattern, found in measures 7, 10, 11, and 14 of the phrase. The second motive, which is merely a reordering of the first, uses two eighth notes, followed by a dotted quarter note, followed by another eighth note. This pattern is found in measures 8 and 9 of the first phrase. This theme does not deviate from a diatonic line except for a brief modulatory passage to B-flat major between measures 31 and 42. This passage constitutes the second part of the three-part form. This passage also links the outer two by serving as the climax by increasing the intensity with quicker pace and louder dynamics. The actual climatic peak occurs in measure 42 with the trumpet’s highest note of the movement, a c³. The third section, a reprise of the first, begins at measure 47. This section is not an exact repetition of the first, however, as it concludes with a prolonged cadence finally settling on the tonic. While the premise of the movement is simple, its execution is not. Like the first movement, an enormous amount of stamina is required of the performer. Breath control is another concern. It is very difficult to play the phrases in this movement in only one breath, so the choice of where to breathe must be carefully considered. One additional breath after beginning each phrase should be sufficient. Using the first phrase as the example, a good place to breathe would be after the dotted quarter note in measure 11.

31

Ex. 10: Mvt. 2, all.

A peculiar passage follows the second movement that acts as a bridge between movements two and three (see Ex. 11). Its character is completely different from that of movement two and can be considered strictly transitional material. In his recording of the concerto, Dokshitzer has omitted this passage. If the performer chooses to execute this passage, it should be performed attacca. There are two reasons for this determination: 1) this section shares a key with the previous movement, thus linking the two, and 2) the anacrusis for this section is the last eighth note of the second movement.

32

Ex. 11: Bridge connecting Mvts. 2 & 3, piano score.

The passage begins in D-flat major with a piano introduction. After the trumpet enters, the key quickly moves down one half step to C major where it prepares the dominant of the key of the final movement, F major. There are two separate errors to be noted in measure 12 of this passage. The natural sign above the turn should be placed below the turn sign signaling a D-natural instead of a D-flat (see Ex. 12). The turn sign itself is also incorrect. The curl (looking at the left side of the turn sign) should be facing upward rather than downward. Comparison between this edition and the original indicates this error. The key signature of example 12 is concert D-flat major.

Ex. 12: Bridge connecting Mvts. 2 & 3, mm. 1-19, B-flat trumpet part. 33 Movement 3

The third movement is an energetic rondo, reminiscent of a nineteenth-century cornet solo. The cornet solo, as a genre, was quite popular throughout Europe during this time, despite the harsh comments of critics. These pieces were being performed and composed by popular cornetists such as Jean Baptiste Arban, Herbert L. Clarke, and Jules Levy, the premiere performers of the instrument during this era, and many successors vied to imitate them and their music. The movement begins with a six-measure introduction by the piano (see Ex. 13).

Ex. 13: Mvt. 3, mm. 1-16, piano score.

34 The trumpet then enters with the rondo theme, a light ten-measure phrase in F major. Böhme includes a surprising chord progression in measure twelve: a major submediant leading into a minor subdominant. It is an unusual but effective sound and stresses another point of Russian nationalist music, the use of nonfunctional harmonies. At this point, there is another error in the trumpet part. In measure eleven the trumpet’s third note should be a concert A, not a concert B-flat (see Ex. 14). The score is correct, but the trumpet part contains the error.

Ex. 14: Mvt. 3, m. 11, trumpet part (corrected).

The rondo theme is repeated, this time with the piano beginning the phrase with the trumpet taking over at the midway point. This time the trumpet has a variation of the second half of the theme, which elaborates on the playful manner of the movement. A ritardando ends an eight-measure extension that has shifted into G major (see Ex. 15). This material is followed by the return of the rondo theme. Example 15 is in the key of F major.

Ex. 15: Mvt. 3, mm. 27-35.

At this point there is a major discrepancy between the modern and original versions. The modern version has a twelve-measure interlude in B-flat major that

35 contains fragments of the upcoming trumpet line. The trumpet enters at measure 57 with an ornamental passage accenting the dominant (see Ex. 16).

Ex. 16: Mvt. 3, mm. 45-57, modern version, piano score.

The original version simply has the first five measures of the modern version and then skips directly to the next section where the trumpet enters with the trill. The editor of the modern version may have decided that there was a need to provide more of a rest for the trumpeter, which is always appreciated by the performer. Another possible reason for this change is the preference for a full twelve-measure phrase leading into the next section over a fragmented five-measure transition. Following the trill there is another virtuosic section beginning at measure 58 featuring arpeggiated sextuplets encompassing the tonic, subdominant, and dominant seventh chords. After this section of arpeggiated chords a lyrical melody follows that develops into a phrase that centers on A-flat major (see Ex. 17). After another series of the recurring sextuplet rhythm, a trill takes the movement into the next piano interlude.

36

Ex. 17: Mvt. 3, pickup to mm. 66-82.

At measure 82 the piano is the main focus, revisiting material from the first theme of movement one. When the trumpet enters with the pickup to measure 92 it states the rondo theme for the last time (as shown in example 13) as it leads into material taken from the first eight measures of example 17, this time played a fourth lower. Following are two four-measure arpeggiated statements of B-flat major and B-flat minor. The final coda section of the piece is prefaced by a four-measure transition. The modern version includes the trumpet line as an ossia part, while the original version does not bear this indication. It is suitable to omit the trumpet obligato part as it is simply a transition (see Ex. 18).

Ex. 18: Mvt. 3, mm. 115-118, modern version, trumpet part.

The coda is a frenzied finish; the tempo quickens and the trumpet plays a flashy chromatic passage that is slurred first, then tongued, adding a touch of virtuosity. An extended phrase beginning in measure 129 ends the piece in the key of F major (see Ex. 19).

37

Ex. 19: Mvt. 3, mm. 119-137.

Conclusions

Oskar Böhme’s Concerto for Trumpet in F Minor, op. 18 has several influences and contains significant elements of Russian nationalism. Most of the melodies are constructed of a simple diatonic structure. There are also many instances of a repeating rhythmic motive. The main theme of the first movement comprises a relatively narrow range, commonly found in Russian folk material. There are also a few examples of non- functional harmony, although not so advanced as to imitate that of late nineteenth-century German music. Although not a Russian influence, this concerto was somewhat prompted by the growing popularity of the cornet solo. Finally, there is a distinct religious presence in the second movement, a characteristic highly valued in Russian culture. In addition to all of these factors, the piece exhibits much emotion, a trait commonly found in Russian music. There is a longing, dramatic quality in the melodies of works of Russian origin. Much of this feeling defies explanation, but can be immediately sensed by the listener. Böhme ingeniously weaved the aspects of Russian music into what was at that time a fresh contribution to the trumpet literature that is gaining popularity in today’s repertoire.

Timofei Dokshitzer’s Recording of the Böhme Concerto

The Dokshitzer recording reviewed is the Macrophon label CD 7008. No date is listed on the recording; the piano accompanist is Sergej Solodovnik. Dokshitzer’s unique sound is always in evidence on this recording. It is very full with a wide, fast vibrato that is appropriate for this piece. Dokshitzer’s intonation is also superb, but surprisingly, the piano is slightly out of tune, most noticeably the pitch of g². Dokshitzer’s articulations are sometimes inconsistent not only with those on the printed page, but also when comparing the performance of repeated phrases. This most noticeably occurs when he clips the ends

38 of phrases to accommodate a breath. While understandable, one would expect Dokshitzer to not overlook these small details. The cleanliness of his playing is also questionable in general. While his trumpet playing on the whole is very clean, there are several instances where some notes do not speak, as if a problem in tone production occurs. This may have been caused by fatigue, for it can be heard in other places as well. The sound editing of the piece is rather poor. Splice points are extremely evident and distract from the music. This factor, more than any other, is the point that is most distasteful, in the author’s opinion. Dokshitzer frequently edits the pieces he performs, and he rewrote some passages of the Böhme Concerto. He does not alter the trumpet part, but he does make some changes to the piano accompaniment. The modern version’s piano introduction in the first movement is a simple six-measure phrase that adequately introduces the piece. Dokshitzer lengthened the introduction to fourteen measures and composed music that is very much in the style of a generic cornet solo accompaniment. Dokshitzer begins the piece much slower than the tempo indicated. He employs the use of rubato throughout the first section, which adds an elegant touch. Upon approaching the section shown in example 6, Dokshitzer slows the tempo drastically, something that is not indicated in the printed music. Upon reaching measure 96, it is evident from which edition Dokshitzer is playing. The original version contains a mordent on the concert F-sharp that falls on the third beat. Example 8 illustrates the modern version’s trumpet part at this particular section. Dokshitzer does indeed play a mordent at this particular point on the recording, so one can logically deduce that he had decided to play from the original version. Another indication of his choice of edition occurs at measure 148 when Dokshitzer repeats the section shown in example 9, which only occurs in the original. A small detail that should also be addressed is the apparent omission of the concert c¹ on the fourth beat of measure 144 (see Ex. 9). Dokshitzer simply does not play this note both times through this passage, the logical reason being the need for a breath. His fatigue can be clearly heard through this section as there are some weak attacks and inconsistent articulations. The second movement, despite a distracting splice between measures 32 and 33, is quite lovely. Again Dokshitzer recomposed the piano introduction, the one on the recording being totally different from that of either published version. Here he simply takes a fragment of the trumpet’s opening melody and has the piano play it before entering with the same material. Dokshitzer’s glorious sound and wide Russian vibrato give this movement a genuine, sparkling quality. An interesting note about the second movement is its title. On the album’s list of repertoire, the second movement is indicated as being Andante festivo instead of Andante religioso. This may only be a minor point, but can clearly change the mental picture one might have when performing the movement. In Edward Tarr’s article on the Böhme brothers, he states that he believes: “Somebody… changed the tempo designation of the second movement from ‘Adagio religioso’ to ‘Adagio festivo’… such a change would be in the true spirit of Communism!”79 Apparently the original indication included religioso but was changed to festivo before the concerto was reprinted in 1942. The modern version refers back to the original direction of religioso.

79Tarr, 23. 39 Dokshitzer omits the bridge connecting the second and third movements (as shown in examples 11 and 12) on this recording. The piano’s introduction to the third movement is extended by one measure in the recording. This movement’s performance seems to have come from the modern version, as Dokshitzer takes the full eleven measures rest and plays the ornament as found in example 16. The ossia part shown in example 18 is not performed on this recording. Dokshitzer’s rendering of the concert c² in parenthesis in measures 112 and 116 is in question (see Ex. 19). In measure 112 he plays this note, but he does not play it in measure 116, apparently to take a breath. While there are some inconsistencies in Timofei Dokshitzer’s recording of Oskar Böhme’s Trumpet Concerto, any listener can learn much from the performance. There are rare musical interpretations displayed throughout the piece that can give students a fresh perspective when studying the work. It is also an extremely enjoyable listening experience and a valuable addition to any library of recordings.

40

CHAPTER 4

EINO TAMBERG’S TRUMPET CONCERTO

Eino Tamberg

Eino Tamberg was born May 27, 1930 in Tallinn, Estonia. He was educated at the Tallinn Conservatory where he studied composition with an influential Estonian composer, Eugen Kapp (1908-1996). Upon graduating in 1953, he worked as a sound director for Estonian Radio from 1953 to 1959 and as a consultant to the Estonian Composer’s Union from 1960 to 1969. In 1957 Tamberg won a gold medal for his Concerto Grosso at an international composition competition in Moscow. Subsequently Tamberg won a number of other composition awards throughout Russia. Tamberg taught at the Estonian Academy of Music from 1968 to 1978. Since 1978, Tamberg has been head of the Composition Department of his alma mater, the Tallinn Conservatory. His most recent honor was the 1999 Estonian State Cultural Award. Since receiving recognition for his work in 1957, Tamberg has been a great influence in Estonian contemporary music. His most important works are the four symphonies, written in 1972, 1982, 1987, and 1998, three operas, Raudne kodu (The Iron Horse), Cyrano de Bergerac, and Lend [The Flight], written in 1965, 1974, and 1983 respectively, three ballets, Ballett-sümfoonia (Ballet-Symphony), Joanna tentata, and Poiss ja liblikas (The Boy and the Butterfly) written in 1959, 1971, and 1963. He has also written over eighty other works during his distinguished career, including instrumental concerti, vocal music, and chamber pieces. Various sources have attempted to classify Tamberg’s compositional style. His works have been described as anti-romantic, neo-classic, and reminiscent of baroque style, while incorporating elements of Estonian folksong.80 From this description it seems evident that it is not practical to give a narrow classification of Tamberg’s compositional style. This discussion of Tamberg’s compositional style will focus only on that of his Trumpet Concerto.

A Brief History of Estonia and its Music

Estonia has a long and rich history that has been filled with oppression and hardships. A territory of Russia for over 250 years, Estonia was of course subjected to the same tyranny that endured in Russia through the ages. Before being a part of the Russian empire, Estonia was actually under power of the Swedish kingdom from 1629 to

80 Estonian Music Council website, www.kul.ee/emc, accessed on February 23, 2001. 41 1721. Estonia is located in the far northwest corner of Russia, separated from the Netherlands by the narrow Gulf of Finland. As power began to shift toward the Russian Czar, Estonia was seized from Sweden by Russia in 1721, where it remained under Russian rule for almost two centuries. In 1918, the Republic of Estonia was born as revolution erupted and the citizens of Estonia gained their independence. After just twenty-two years of freedom, before the young country had even established any stability, Stalin revoked Estonia’s independence and they were under the Soviet Union’s rule once again. Estonia remained under the USSR’s power until widespread revolution broke out once again against communism in 1991. At this time the reigning Russian government crumbled, and many Soviet territories, including Estonia, were free to develop their own governing systems and cultures. Estonian music has a relatively young history. Estonian historians consider the birth of their music to be the completion of the first Estonian symphonic work, the overture Julius Caesar, written by Rudolf Tobias in 1896. It was during this time that Estonians were finally permitted to attend the music conservatories of Russia. Estonian music began to flourish in a world dominated by the traditions of Western music, with those of Germany among the most influential. Many different musical styles coexisted in Estonia during this period of growth and this trend continues today.81 Communist Russia adversely affected the Estonia’s early musical development. The first Estonian graduates of Russian conservatories finished their studies around 1900. Estonia obtained its independence in 1918, after which many of its musicians traveled to western Europe to study. Estonian performing groups then began to embark on foreign performance tours, and Estonian music was further exposed to the world through radio broadcast programs. The decade of the 1930s was the most productive and developmental in Estonia’s brief musical history. The Russian government again tightened its stronghold on Estonia in 1940, which meant the end of its musical output as well. The Russian government was so restrictive that many of Estonia’s foremost musicians fled to obtain positions elsewhere. During the 1940s and 1950s all creative activity in Estonia was stifled. Very little new music was composed. Public performances were scarce, and Estonia became isolated from the rest of the world again. Eventually the Russian government allowed certain groups to begin performing again. Estonia’s music centered on vocal music because of its folksong tradition. As a result, there were many talented choirs and vocal soloists from Estonia. The Estonian National Male Choir was the first group to break out of isolation. They began touring Estonia and were even permitted to tour Finland and Eastern European Communist countries. As their reputation grew, the choir was allowed to tour other European countries, including West Germany, Sweden, Italy, and Switzerland in the 1970s and 1980s. The government’s leniency toward the Estonian National Male Choir also stemmed from the fact that the group was a unique ensemble; no other such choir of their caliber existed in the Soviet Union. Unfortunately, other Estonian ensembles such as the Estonia Theatre Ballet, the Estonia Theatre Opera Troupe, and the Estonian National Symphony Orchestra, were not afforded the same performance opportunities simply because there were already established groups of this type in Moscow and Leningrad.

81 Estonian Music Information Centre website, www.emic.kul.ee 42 These ensembles were forced to perform with little publicity in unimportant halls. As a result, attendance at their performances was poor and very little was known about the ensembles by the general public. These factors significantly stunted the development of Estonian music. The year 2001 marked the ten-year anniversary of Estonia’s second gaining of independence. The country’s financial difficulties during this transition from tyranny to freedom have further limited the development of its musical culture. One can only speculate as to what progress could have been made in Estonia’s music during the period of forced silence. Estonia can now follow its own course in its unfettered development of government, life, and the arts. In summation, Estonia’s short musical history has incorporated a large conglomeration of pre-existing musical styles, but by far the most important aspect of Estonian music that has remained is the concept of nationalism. This emphasis on nationalism is understood when one is reminded of Estonia’s small size and political struggle. However, this adamant and prolonged focus on nationalism has somewhat slowed Estonia’s musical development. For a time Estonia’s production of music could be described in one of two ways, national and non-national. Estonian citizens drew a prideful parallel to Estonia’s musical output; all national music was considered favorable and all non-national music was considered unfavorable. Music that fell into the latter category fell under heavy criticism, with the real value of the piece remaining unnoticed. This forced Estonian composers to follow a basic rule for success: use folk melody.82 Estonian music cannot be lumped into a narrow category, but rather a very broad gamut of Western styles. Estonian composers were forced to evolve in a period of one hundred years while the rest of Europe had four hundred years to make the same progress. Because of this, music written by one contemporary Estonian composer may be very much in the style of the Baroque period, while another composer may choose to write in a more modern style. For instance, during the 1950s, twentieth-century trends in music finally begin to appear in Estonian music. In the 1970s, Estonia’s early music ensemble Hortus Musicus was established and as a result, a revitalization of Middle Age, Renaissance, and Baroque music occurred. Also in the 1970s, a movement in Estonia also took place that incorporated the use of the twentieth-century techniques of atonalism and minimalism. The use of these techniques is quite evident in Eino Tamberg’s Trumpet Concerto.

Tamberg’s Trumpet Concerto, Op. 42

Eino Tamberg wrote his Trumpet Concerto in 1972 for Timofei Dokshitzer, who describes the circumstances of the concerto’s creation: I sent the music of the Concerto by M. Vainberg to the outstanding Estonian composer, Eino Tamberg. As a result, a truly Estonian concerto was written that incorporated authentic Estonian folk music, as well as original technical demands. I played it many times in Tallinn, Moscow, Leningrad, Finland, and elsewhere. I

82 Ibid. 43 also made a recording of it which has achieved some renown. It is interesting how Tamberg wrote the theme of his Concerto after he had become acquainted with the Concerto of Vainberg. As a matter of fact, the themes of both concertos turned out to be quite similar.83

Tamberg’s concerto is in three movements, but cannot be classified as belonging to a specific tonal center (note that it is the only piece discussed in this treatise that does not bear a key designation). In fact, it rarely even hints at a key, and contains elements of atonality. This makes it extremely difficult to create a semblance of pitch correlations, but it is possible to find a pattern of motivic-thematic statements. There are minimalistic techniques employed throughout the entire piece, a practice which adheres to the Estonian minimalist movement of the 1970s.

Figure 1: Timofei Dokshitzer and Eino Tamberg84

Tamberg frequently shifts between short motivic statements throughout his trumpet concerto. The tables that follow show the pattern of the various motives presented in each movement. In order to understand better the content of the tables, it is suggested that the reader refer to the piano score of the work. The first movement contains three main motives. Each motive is described in greater detail later in this chapter. Sometimes a motive statement is developed enough that it could be considered a theme, but in many cases the motives are so fragmented that

83 Dokshitzer, 146. 84 Dokshitzer, 145. 44 they are simply stated and then left behind. The tables are intended to give a general visual idea of the theme and/or motivic statements and the order in which they are presented.

Table 2: Mvt. 1 motivic statements. Motive A B A′ B C B C Measure 1 17 32 37 44 56 90

Motive B C′ B B A B Measure 106 119 134 150 156 161

The second movement contains four motives. The melodic phrases of this movement shift frequently from one motive to another. As shown by the table below, each motive lasts for only a few measures with the exception of motive D, which Tamberg develops extensively later in the movement. Motive B occurs only twice in the movement and with very brief durations. It is not considered a primary motive of the movement. More details are discussed later in this chapter that describe how these motives are treated and the logical pattern they form.

Table 3: Mvt. 2 motivic statements. Motive A B C A D A C′ D Measure 1 6 9 11 16 21 28 32

Motive C D C D C D B′ A Measure 42 45 49 51 55 56 87 89

The third movement is very lively and has less disjunct melodic motion. The organization of themes in this movement is much more symmetrical than that of the other two movements and many of these themes are based more closely on diatonic scale patterns. The melodies of this movement are also more developed that those of the previous two. There are, however, some inclusions of thematic transformation in this movement where Tamberg inserts ideas from the first movement of this concerto. The table below shows where each theme occurs in the third movement and any relation to themes from the first movement. Each instance of reference to a motive of the first movement is shown by first stating its place in the third movement, followed by its place in the first movement. For instance, the first occurrence of Tamberg’s use of thematic transformation is theme E of the third movement. This melody relates to motive C of the

45 first movement, so the table reads E/C. Tamberg only refers to motives of the first movement during this third movement.

Table 4: Mvt. 3 thematic statements. Theme A B C A B' D E/C Measure 1 22 33 54 76 84 103

Theme F/A A G/B B C A B A Measure 115 126 146 154 165 195 203 213

Movement 1

The piece opens with a very angular statement by unaccompanied trumpet (see Ex. 1). The tempo is fairly slow, and the fact that the shortest note value is a quarter note adds to the perceived slowness. The trumpet repeats the motive of a minor ninth interval several times within the first sixteen measures while changing the dynamic level and incorporating a wandering sense of pulse.

Ex. 1: Tamberg, Trumpet Concerto, Mvt. 1, mm. 1-16.

After settling on concert G, the trumpet sustains this note until a sudden tempo change at measure 17 where short sixteenth-note fragments are stated (see Ex. 2).

46

Ex. 2: Mvt. 1, mm. 17-30.

The intensity builds to measure 23 where the trumpet ascends the first seven degrees of the A natural minor scale and then begins a difficult technical passage that includes all twelve tones of the octave. It is not a twelve-tone row however, as some pitches are repeated before all twelve are stated in succession. There are many factors that make this passage among the most difficult in the piece. The quick tempo forces the player to double-tongue this passage which is extremely difficult to achieve cleanly due to the high range and awkward intervals. There is also a high level of finger-tongue coordination required to execute this line correctly. Repeated sixteenth-note patterns become more prominent throughout the movement, as well as chromatic lines that evoke a sense of chaos. At measure 30 the trumpet line ends and the piano extends the phrase for two more measures. When the trumpet enters again in measure 32, an idea from the movement’s opening is presented in a more melodic fashion (see Ex. 3). The first two measures of this phrase correlate with the trumpet’s line in measures 2 and 3.

Ex. 3: Mvt. 1, mm. 32-39.

47 At measure 44 the trumpet plays a more subdued melodic line that incorporates a general characteristic of Russian folksong, that of a very confined sense of melody (see Ex. 4). This melodic line gives the illusion of a major key (concert G major), but the accompaniment does not match this and instead has various cluster chords.

Ex. 4: Mvt. 1, mm. 44-55.

At measure 56 the trumpet plays an extension of the material presented at measure 37 that leads into a long piano interlude. The piano material recalls the fragmented sixteenth-note statement made by the trumpet beginning in measure 17 and the more percussive sixteenth-note passage found in measure 37 (see Ex. 5).

Ex. 5: mm. 65-71, piano part.

48 At measure 80 the trumpet enters again with a strictly percussive section culminating with two statements of the recurring ninth interval, one a minor ninth and the second a major ninth (see Ex. 6).

Ex. 6: Mvt. 1, mm. 80-88.

The next long trumpet phrase begins with the pickup to measure 90 (see Ex. 7). This passage combines the three ideas presented thus far in the piece: the interval of a major or minor ninth, the lyrical phrase reminiscent of Estonian folk melody, and the minimalistic sixteenth-note motive.

Ex. 7: Mvt. 1. mm. 89-115.

49 Tamberg develops these ideas and weaves them together, building tension by gradually elevating the range to a climax at measure 115. Much of the music in this movement is of an extremely percussive nature and does not have a melodic focus. Occasionally the composer intersperses sections of melody into these percussive sections, and when they do occur they only last for a few measures. This technique compels the listener to be alert to the many changes from tension to relief, a strategy that invites an exciting experience for the audience. The trumpet’s next entrance at measure 119 is again distinctly percussive. In the middle of measure 122, a melodic fragment is inserted, once again illustrating Tamberg’s technique of sudden stylistic changes (see Ex. 8). This writing also demands versatility from the performer, who must be extremely sensitive to these changes to achieve the desired effect.

Ex. 8: Mvt. 1, mm. 119-127.

Another percussive section begins at measure 130, this time leading into the statement found at measure 17 an octave higher (see Ex. 9). The silence spaced between

Ex. 9: Mvt. 1, mm. 130-137.

the loud attacks evokes an effective anticipation. The trumpet states only a portion of the material as the piano assumes command and builds intensity toward the trumpet climax at measure 143 (see Ex. 10). After the concert d-flat² the trumpet plays alone for six measures while displaying virtuosic range, various tonguing techniques, and trills. This 50 passage is the most difficult in the entire piece as the intervals are extremely awkward, testing range and agility.

Ex. 10: Mvt. 1, mm. 143-149.

The trumpet plays continuously from here to the end of the movement and again Tamberg shifts emphasis from a percussive to a lyrical style (see Ex. 11). This time, however, Tamberg extends the lyrical phrase for many measures. The interval of the ninth, both minor and major, appears again in measure 156 and between measures 170

Ex. 11: Mvt. 1, mm. 150-179.

51 and 171 respectively. The trumpet then sustains a concert B at pianissimo for fourteen beats before one last percussive statement is inserted at measure 174. The trumpet then returns to sustaining the concert B very softly as the movement comes to a conclusion. A lack of resolution remains to the end as the piano sustains A-flat and C while the trumpet sustains a concert B.

Movement 2

The second movement shares a similarity with the first in that it has three main motives that are repeated throughout the movement. One of these motives is repeated exhaustively, incorporating one characteristic of Russian nationalist music, that being the repetition of one or two rhythmic patterns. In addition to the three recurring motives that are prominent throughout this movement, there is another motive that occurs briefly, but it is not treated with the same importance as the other three. The movement opens slowly with an unusual rhythmic pulse. In measures 2 and 3 the piano’s introduction states one of the three recurring ideas that will be presented later by the trumpet (see Ex. 12).

Ex. 12: Mvt. 2, mm. 1-3. piano part.

When the trumpet enters in measure 5 it has a beautiful, flowing melody (see Ex. 13). Oddly, this is the only time this statement occurs in the entire movement.

Ex. 13: Mvt. 2, mm. 5-8, B-flat trumpet part.

At measure 9 the piano states the second of the movement’s recurring motives, which is the rhythm shown in example 14. This rhythm appears many times throughout the movement. Notice the similarity between the ideas presented in examples 12 and 14. Each motive contains eight notes. In example 12, the line connecting measures 2 and 3

52 contains seven different pitches with the last pitch repeating the first. Example 14 has the same pitch repeated in the highest voice (as the trumpet will echo later).

Ex. 14: Mvt. 2, m. 9, piano part.

The trumpet states the final motive of the movement beginning with the pickup to measure 16. This motive is a rising and falling melodic line with a repetitive rhythmic pattern (see Ex. 15).

Ex. 15: Mvt. 2, pickup to mm. 16-18.

From this point to the end of the movement, all material can be linked to one of the three main motives shown in examples 12, 14, and 15. Reference to these motives will be described as motives 1, 2, and 3, respectively. Tamberg’s technique of combining motives is also evident in this movement as it was in the first. The trumpet and piano exchange idea 1 from measures 22 and 23 to measures 25 and 26. The trumpet’s line between measures 28 to 43 combine ideas 2 and 3 in such a way to form a phrase which uses them in the pattern 2-3-2 (see Ex. 16). This section also marks the first tempo change from dotted quarter note equaling 52 to dotted quarter note equaling 66. After this section ends the tempo quickens again to dotted quarter equals 76, marking the beginning of an extended tension-building passage. This passage is derived from the material in motives 2 and 3, and the piano line leads to the trumpet’s entrance at measure 56.

53

Ex. 16: Mvt. 2, mm. 28-43.

When the trumpet enters at measure 56, the mood is distinctly more agitated and the material is taken strictly from motive 3 (see Ex. 17). The trumpet’s tessitura is slightly higher, as is the dynamic level, which rises from mezzo piano to forte. The tempo accelerates throughout this section while the trumpet gradually ascends chromatically and increases the level of dynamics. The tempo eventually reaches the dotted quarter note equaling 100, and the trumpet reaches its pinnacle of range and dynamics within the movement. The climax is reached as a dramatic allargando takes place, with a fragment of motive 2 (the last five eighth notes of the motive) inserted at the conclusion of the phrase. After a slight pause the piano bridges the previous section to the final section of the movement with a highly chromatic transition. This bridge is significantly relaxed in tempo, with the pulse at 72 beats per minute. The tempo slows even further to 63 beats per minute at the trumpet’s final entrance with the pickup to measure 77. The trumpet is muted here to portray a more reserved character.

54

Ex. 17: Mvt. 2, mm. 56-68.

The phrase shown in example 18 is quite similar to that found in example 16. The major difference is that this later phrase contains more sustained notes, accomplishing a more relaxed conclusion. Example 18 is another development of motive 3. After the trumpet finishes, the piano ends the movement by softly stating a small fragment of motive 2 and a complete statement of motive 1. Again, the movement ends with a blurred tonal center and a wandering sense of pulse. While movement two does not present the listener with an abundance of new material, its form holds the listener’s attention by following a logical path. A distinct correlation can be made between the tempo and the movement’s motives. Opening with a slow pulse of 52 beats per minute, motives 1 and 2 are presented. As the tempo quickens, motives 2 and 3 are combined and developed into a climax that peaks at 100 beats per minute. Upon completion of the movement, the tempo has returned to a slow pace where the musical ideas are stated again in descending order. The following table illustrates the arch form followed by both the tempo and motives in this movement.

Mvt. 2 Table of tempo and motivic relationships. 52 bpm 66 bpm 76 bpm 100 bpm 72 bpm 63 bpm Motives 1, 2 Motives 2,3 Motive 3 Motive 3 Bridge Motives 3,2,1

55

Ex. 18: Mvt. 2, mm. 69-95.

Movement 3

The third movement brings Tamberg’s Trumpet Concerto to an exciting finish. The movement starts at a very quick pace with a long piano introduction. The constantly driving sixteenth notes move the piece forward in anticipation of the trumpet’s first entrance. The piano’s first entrance immediately states one of the main motives of the movement (see Ex. 19). This motive is the interval of a diminished fourth.

Ex. 19: Mvt. 3, m. 1, piano part.

The trumpet enters at measure 22 with a lively line that seems to center around the key of concert E major, but suddenly moves to a brief scale passage of E-flat major in measure 28 and then to another brief scale passage of C major in measure 30 (see Ex. 20). This opening phrase is very much in a bravura style requiring exceptional double- tonguing technique to execute. Range is also a concern, as the performer must be able to cover quickly a large range with an even, consistent sound.

56

Ex. 20: Mvt. 3, mm. 22-32, B-flat trumpet part.

At measure 32 the trumpet shifts into a more melodic role, and the second idea of the movement is presented (see Ex. 21).

Ex. 21: Mvt. 3, pickup to mm. 33-59.

57 Note the relatively narrow range of the melody at its beginning, a characteristic of Estonian folksong. Here the music suggests a shift to a contrasting cantilena style. This movement constantly changes styles from one to the other, and the performer must be both versatile and possess the ability to recognize these changes in order to achieve the desired effect. In measure 50 another example of this abrupt change occurs as a motive from the first movement is restated, the use of the major and minor ninth interval. This use of thematic transformation links Tamberg’s work to influences of western Romantic style traits. At the end of the previous section, the piano embarks on another development of the initial motive. After this is completed at measure 76, the music returns to the material from the trumpet’s first entrance, with a short reference to the repeated half-step motive found in example 7 of the first movement (see Ex. 22). The last three notes of this phrase, found in measure 82, call for an abrupt dynamic and style change to lead into the next statement. Although not indicated in the printed music itself, a much lighter and softer style is called for here as it is the anacrusis that begins the next softer passage. This interpretation is confirmed in Timofei Dokshitzer’s recording of the work. The trumpet’s next entrance is also much lighter and softer. This lighter style is short-lived,

Ex. 22: Mvt. 3, mm. 76-91.

however, as the sixteenth-note material returns in measure 91, led by a sforzando breath attack from the trumpet. The trumpet line, beginning with the pickup to measure 98, constitutes another example of Tamberg’s compositional technique of combining ideas (see Ex. 23). The reader will note that the pickup is the first motive of the movement presented by the piano (Ex 19). The line then moves into those scale passages found in the trumpet’s first entrance of the movement (Ex. 20). After three measures of scales, the phrase then moves into the lyrical style similar to that found in example 21. Tamberg ingeniously

58 took all three ideas and combined them to form a complete phrase, which is a common aspect of his compositional method. An extension to the phrase occurs at measure 109 where the trumpet plays the lyrical material down a fourth. A final statement recalls the minor ninth motive. This section can be extremely taxing on the trumpeter. The multiple extended phrases and use of the high register are a challenge to endurance.

Ex. 23: Mvt. 3, pickup to mm. 98-125.

The original motive first seen in the piano appears again at measure 130, this time in the trumpet part (see Ex. 24). The line develops into a particularly challenging section that is very percussive in nature. A facile technique is required for the execution of this passage.

59

Ex. 24: Mvt. 3, mm. 130-143.

Percussive fragments derived from the opening interval of a diminished fourth played by the trumpet lead into another extended recurrence of the minimalist motive found in the first movement (see Ex. 25). The trumpet’s original phrase found in example 22 returns yet again, in its full form beginning at measure 154. The theme found in example 21 returns for the last time at measure 165, played an augmented fourth higher than its original statement. This melody sounds much more vibrant in this range, and Tamberg gradually slows the tempo to evoke a more expressive feeling.

Ex. 25: Mvt. 3, mm. 144-152.

The phrase is extended into the final climax that gradually releases tension through slower tempo and softer dynamics (see Ex. 26).

60

Ex. 26: Mvt. 3, mm. 165-195.

At measure 195 the tempo suddenly quickens to a tempo of quarter note equals 160, and the piano begins the last section of the piece with a development of the initial motive stated in measure 1 and the trumpet’s theme from example 22. This time the piano plays in a much more delicate manner. At measure 213 the trumpet boldly announces the diminished-fourth motive as if another heroic section is to take place, but the mood abruptly changes as the dynamics and tempo decrease. After all of the intentional masking of a discernable key, the piece resolves to a distinct but gentle cadence in E major (see Ex. 27).

Ex. 27, part 1: Mvt. 3, mm. 213-224, B-flat trumpet part.

Ex. 27, part 2: Mvt 3, mm. 218-end, piano part. 61

Conclusions

Tamberg constructed large phrases and sections from very simple ideas in this concerto. He also exhibited a clever method of weaving these ideas together to form music that flows surprisingly naturally. The main ideas for the material in the piece are basically the use of a small number of intervals. The first movement has many instances of the minor and major ninth interval, as well as the minimalistic development of the half step. The third movement centers around the use of a diminished fourth. There are several instances of Russian and Estonian folk material in Tamberg’s concerto. Numerous melodies within the piece comprise a relatively narrow and confined range, a typical characteristic of both Russian and Estonian folksong. This piece definitely fits into the character of Estonia’s stylistic tendencies during the 1970’s. The piece does not focus entirely on minimalism, but there are many examples of it in this piece. To stress further his inclination toward twentieth-century techniques, Tamberg also chose to keep most of the piece atonal. This concerto tests the limits of the trumpeter’s technique. Tamberg wrote this piece for Timofei Dokshitzer, whose technique is extraordinary, but an advanced trumpeter can achieve success with this piece as well. Pieces that stretch the trumpeter’s abilities are extremely valuable to the literature, as they force the evolution of skills over generations of trumpeters.

Timofei Dokshitzer’s Recording of the Tamberg Trumpet Concerto

The recording examined for this treatise is Timofei Dokshitzer’s album entitled “Rhapsody”, Macrophon CD 903. The concerto was recorded with the assistance of the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra in 1990. This recording is of exceptional quality. Dokshitzer’s performance is outstanding, and the orchestra does a fine job as well. The orchestral accompaniment adds much to the piece, as Tamberg’s orchestrations are excellent and provide brilliant tone colors. Comparison of the orchestral sound versus the piano accompaniment reveals that the piano part is, in fact, quite thin and is immensely difficult for the pianist who must attempt to cover so many different lines. At times, some of these lines are omitted from the piano score to accommodate facility of playing, and the overall effect is diminished. Dokshitzer performs the music as printed much of the time. He does not take liberal compositional license as he did in his recording of the Böhme, but there are a few discrepancies between his performance and the published music, which is from his own “Timofei Dokshitzer Collection” from the Marc Reift Publishing Company. Most of these discrepancies are simply articulation interpretations, which were most likely made to make the work more idiomatic for the trumpet. For instance, this kind of articulation change is made in the passage shown in example 10. Dokshitzer slurs the initial ascending scale fragment when no indication to do so is found in the music. The following measure, measure 144, is also performed slurred. Slurring these passages makes the music flow better, which is a logical reason for the change. Dokshitzer also makes some other negligible articulation changes throughout the course of the concerto. 62 He made one minor compositional change in measure 178 of the first movement. The printed music indicates a tied concert B through this measure, yet Dokshitzer replays the figure found in measure 175 (see Ex. 11). The purpose of this change is unknown. At certain times within the movement, such as the lyrical phrase found in example 7, Dokshitzer’s vibrato seems to be slightly wider than the usual width of his vibrato. The second movement is brilliantly executed on the recording. There are just two items in this movement that merit discussion. In measure 68, the direction of allargando is distinctly found in the music (see Ex. 17). Dokshitzer ignores this indication and does not slow at all before coming to the end of the section. The other item is Dokshitzer’s choice of mute for the final section of the movement. Dokshitzer uses a cup mute here, which fits the relaxed mood very nicely. No specific mute is indicated, so this interpretation is acceptable. Dokshitzer made some note alterations in the third movement on his recording. Measure 104, with the exception of the first tied note, is played an octave lower, most likely to make the technical demands easier (see Ex. 23). This change seemingly fits the line better, as the awkward downward leap disappears, giving the line a natural ascension. Other changes are made in measure 139 and measure 141 (see Ex. 24). The first note of measure 139 is played as a concert B natural instead of a concert B-flat. Also, the second note of measure 141 is played as a concert D instead of a concert C as written. It is unclear as to why these changes were made. Two other small changes were made in measures 152 and 194. In measure 152, as found in example 25, Dokshitzer ignores the flutter tongue direction and does not re- attack the second concert C. In measure 194, Dokshitzer ignores the indication to tie into the measure and instead re-attacks the concert E. These small details may not seem important, but they do pose the question of why the printed articulations are not observed. As mentioned before, the orchestra plays very nicely. There are, however, a few instances where the execution of certain sections is unclean. Prime examples of this occur when the trombones and flutes have a quick, tongued passage. The intonation is generally good, except for a few passages in the high woodwinds. The most troublesome incident of this occurs at the end of the piece, where the flutes’ pitch drifts sharp. This recording of Eino Tamberg’s Trumpet Concerto is a superb example of Timofei Dokshitzer’s excellent playing. It is quite valuable to listen to the interpretations of the artist for whom the work was written. Dokshitzer’s mastery of the trumpet is extremely evident on this recording, which stimulates interest to listen to more of his work.

63 CHAPTER 5

SERGEÏ WASSILENKO’S CONCERT-POÈME IN C MINOR

Sergeï Wassilenko

Sergeï Wassilenko was born in Moscow on March 30, 1872. The spelling of his last name has appeared as any of three ways: Wassilenko, Vasilenko, or Vassilenko. He began private study of theory and composition in 1888, then became a law student at Moscow University from 1891 to 1896. He also attended the Moscow Conservatory where Mikhail Ippolitov-Ivanov was among his composition teachers. He spent the years 1895 through 1901 at the Conservatory, and he received a gold medal upon graduation. Wassilenko remained in Moscow for most of his life. He conducted the Mamontov Private Opera in Moscow from 1903 to 1905, and in 1906 he was appointed to the composition faculty of the Moscow Conservatory where he remained until 1941. He returned to the Conservatory in 1943 and stayed there until his death in 1956. Wassilenko was also involved with music outside of the Conservatory. From 1907 through 1917 he organized and conducted a series of performances known as the Historic Concerts in the city. Wassilenko continued to organize concerts and lectures in Moscow from 1918 and in 1925 he was instrumental in the establishment of music broadcasting in the city. In 1938 Wassilenko worked in the city of Tashkent, located in the province of Uzbekistan. His project was the completion of the first Uzbek opera, Buran (The Snowstorm). His efforts in this endeavor were rewarded in 1939 when he received the prestigious title of Peoples Artist of the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic, a great honor for someone not a native to the region. Wassilenko’s compositional style encompassed a great many influences during the course of his career. His early works demonstrated his interest in Russian folk song. After 1906 he wrote several pieces that reflect a connection with Russian symbolist poetry. From 1910 to 1920, he shifted his emphasis to eastern exoticism and oriental folk music. After 1920, his compositions did not focus on any one area, but the bulk of his work returned to that of Russian influence. Wassilenko composed music in all genres: orchestral pieces, vocal music, ballet, opera, symphonies, and instrumental concerti. His greatest contribution was his orchestral music and the art of orchestration.

Concert-Poème c-moll, Op. 113

Wassilenko wrote the Concert-Poème, or concerto, in 1945 for Russian trumpeter Sergey Eremin. Timofei Dokshitzer later collaborated with the composer to produce the current edition. Dokshitzer describes the circumstances of the development of the concerto: The story of the premiere of the Concerto by Vassilenko is somewhat dramatic. Sergey Nikolaevich Eremin, the first trumpeter to publicly perform this work, became ill in the 64 middle of its performance in the Great Hall of the Moscow Conservatory. He stopped playing somewhere near the cadenza of the first movement. The conductor, Nikolai Pavlovich Anosov, tried to sustain the sound of the orchestra until it was time for the cadenza. Sergey Nikolaevich stood on stage a moment and then left it amid the growing silence. The next day, one music critic published a review of the first performance of Vassilenko’s Concerto. He praised the new piece for the trumpet. (The critic was not even there; he had sent the review from Leningrad!)

After that performance, the Concerto was not performed for several years, and then it was forgotten. No one even tried to play it. I contacted Sergey Nikiforovich Vassilenko and offered to perform his Concerto. It sounded good with the radio orchestra, but I was not allowed to record it. With the composer’s permission, a recording was made by Sergey Petrovich Popov, a fantastic trumpet player who was the soloist of the radio orchestra. As soloist of the radio orchestra, he recorded it very well, but not like a solo performer. It cut me to the quick because I had done a lot of work together with the composer, correcting many musical details to resurrect the Concerto from oblivion. The main corrections were done with enthusiasm. It was impossible to play the Concerto because of the numerous illogical meno mosso, ritenuto, allargando, and many other tempo deviations. After we had crossed out many such indications, we managed to put the pieces of the Concerto back together. Still, there are many deviations in the new publication of my edition of the Concerto.

I was so offended by what happened that I dared to call the respected man to tell him of my indignation. Feeling guilty, Sergey Nikiforovich, without me asking him, required the radio to let another performer make a recording. But he was the conductor, both with me, and with Popov!

Many years later I did make a recording of the Concerto by Vassilenko at Melodiya. Algis Zhuratis conducted the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra. After the Concerto, in its new edition, was published, musicians began and continue to perform it.85

85 Dokshitzer, 143-4. 65 The piece incorporates much Russian flair in its many cadenzas and even has a fragment which is a direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s famous ballet The Nutcracker. While this concerto differs from the other two studied in this treatise, it is still greatly influenced by the idea of Russian nationalism. Wassilenko’s Trumpet Concerto contains elements found in both of the other works. Although it has a strong foundation in tonality and long themes like the Böhme, it also incorporates much chromatic writing, quite like the Tamberg. Wassilenko also uses the idea of thematic transformation in his concerto, and like Tamberg, he includes themes from the first movement to include in the third movement. The first movement is essentially based in C minor with some modulations. Each theme belongs to a specific key center, but highly chromatic transitions link these themes together. Some of these transitions contain fragments of previous themes and sometimes even foreshadow themes yet to be heard in their entirety. The table below shows the basic form analysis of the first movement. If a transition includes a fragment of any theme, it is notated after the “Trans.” indication in the table. Minor keys are indicated with lowercase letters.

Table 5: Mvt. 1 thematic statements. Measure 1 9 28 43 79 91 112 Theme Intro. A Trans. B Trans./C C D Key c/e-flat c Chromatic c Chromatic c B-flat

Measure 124 154 183 194 212 216 234 248 Theme Trans./A Cadenza/B,C,D Trans./A C Trans. B D D Key Chrom./f# c Chromatic d/c c c C c/C

The second movement contains three main themes in an arch form. The movement is entirely in the key of B-flat minor with a few short modulatory passages that lead back to the home key. Again Wassilenko makes use of transitions to link some of the themes, but transitions are used less frequently than in the first movement. The table below shows the presentation of themes of the second movement.

Table 6: Mvt. 2 thematic statements. Measure 1 11 22 28 49 62 68 79 Theme Intro. A Trans. B C Trans. B A

The third movement modulates quite often. Wassilenko also varies the use of the themes, sometimes using one or two variations of each theme. The third movement cadenza incorporates themes A and B of the first movement. There is also an occurrence

66 of the first movement's opening theme near the end of the piece. There is only one instance of a transition used in this final movement. The following table illustrates the basic formal structure of the third movement. First movement themes are indicated inside parenthesis.

Table 7: Mvt. 3 thematic statements. Measure 1 33 49 57 69 77 83

Theme A A' B A/B' B' Trans. C

Key E-flat F/E-flat E-flat G/ B-flat B-flat D/E-flat E-flat

Measure 111 124 135 155 163 177 186

Theme A" B" Cadenza/ (A,B) C C' D/(A) B"/Coda

Key E-flat B-flat D-flat D-flat D-flat b-flat E-flat

Movement 1

The piano begins with a short, dramatic introduction in C minor. The trumpet further adds to the drama with its first entrance, entering unaccompanied with a brief rubato phrase that outlines the key of C minor. A short transitional phrase by the piano leads to E-flat minor, where the trumpet plays virtually the opening passage again, but in the new key of E-flat minor (see Ex. 1).

Ex. 1: Wassilenko, Mvt. 1, mm. 9-27, B-flat trumpet part.

67 The piano interlude after the cadenza creates tension leading to a modulation back to the original key for the main theme of the movement, presented by the trumpet at measure 43 (see Ex. 2). Here Wassilenko shows some influence of Russian national

Ex. 2: Mvt. 1, mm. 43-78.

writing by using a repeated rhythmic idea. The rhythmic motive of a dotted eighth, sixteenth, eighth pattern followed by three eighth notes or the rhythmic inversion of this motive occurs fifteen times in this passage. Wassilenko also utilizes many sequences to develop the line. After a pair of piano hemiola interjections, the trumpet builds to a peak with a rallantando ending on an octave leap to the cadence in C minor, thus ending the first section of the movement. A more relaxed piano transition which contains a fragment of the third theme of the movement leads to a full statement when the trumpet enters at measure 91. Again

68 Wassilenko makes extensive use of sequences and a repeated rhythmic idea (see Ex. 3). The rhythm found in measure 91 of the trumpet part, a hemiola figure, is stated eight

Ex. 3: Mvt. 1, mm. 91-123.

times between measures 91 and 109. This theme is cantabile in nature and adds contrast to the previous material. After a slight ritard, the tempo quickens and the trumpet states the third theme beginning in measure 112. Once again Wassilenko develops his ideas by the use of sequences and repeated rhythmic motives. The motive comprising measures 112 and 113 is immediately repeated and the motive found in measures 116 and 117 is also repeated immediately following its original statement. This section comprising themes two and three provides two more challenges to the trumpeter. The first difficulty is the combination of musicality and air support required to achieve the desired lyrical yet powerful effect of the second theme. The second difficulty is the use of double-tongue in the third theme. The performer must be able to double-tongue cleanly and lightly through scale passages and large intervals. The section between measures 124 through 153 is another piano transition where Wassilenko combines material from the piano opening and the trumpet’s first cadenza. At measure 154 the trumpet embarks upon an extended cadenza that cleverly incorporates 69 material from the three themes (see Ex. 4). This cadenza calls upon the trumpeter’s abilities in many areas: double-tonguing, range, finger dexterity, flexibility, lyricism, and musical maturity. The performer must envision the cadenza as a complete entity and treat it as such when building tension toward the climax. Effective use of silence before entering after the fermatas can add a tremendous amount of drama to the music.

Ex. 4: Mvt. 1, mm. 154-183.

After the cadenza, the piano has another transition, again consisting of material from the introduction and from the trumpet’s first cadenza. When the trumpet enters

70 again at measure 194, it states the third theme in its in entirety with a slight rhythmic variation. (see Ex. 5).

Ex. 5: Mvt. 1, mm. 194-212.

When comparing this statement of the theme to the first time it is stated in measure 91, it is found that the first nine measures of this passage (194-203) are transposed a full step higher, while the last nine measures (203-212) are transposed down a minor third (see Ex. 5). A short stringendo in the piano, again incorporating hemiolas, leads into the next trumpet statement at measure 234, a variation of the third theme (see Ex. 6).

Ex. 6: Mvt. 1, mm. 234-242.

The last piano transition in measures 243 to 247 incorporates fragments from the piano introduction, the trumpet’s first theme, and the hemiola rhythm that appears several times throughout the movement. The trumpet has a short passage at the end of the movement that is simply an arpeggiated statement that outlines the chord of C minor (see

71 Ex. 7). The harmony shifts to the parallel major mode three measures from the end, finishing the movement in a flourish of C major.

Ex. 7: Mvt. 1, mm. 248-254.

Movement 2

The second movement begins in a very similar format as the first--a piano introduction leading into a trumpet cadenza. The movement begins in B-flat minor with the piano playing a softly flowing phrase ending on a sustained F minor chord, announcing the trumpet’s entrance. After a two-measure introduction outlining F minor, the trumpet cadenza beginning in measure 13 consists of three sequences that ascend by one full step each time (see Ex. 8). The last statement of the sequence is not a full repetition, but is actually altered at the midway point as a sequence of itself, shifted down an augmented fourth. This leads to the end of the cadenza as the trumpet cadences in F minor.

Ex. 8: Mvt. 2, mm. 11-21.

The middle section of this movement has a flowing melody that progresses in a sequential fashion (see Ex. 9). The first three-measure phrase beginning in measure 28 is repeated starting at measure 32, but transposed up a minor third. The next four-measure phrase beginning in measure 36 can be divided into two two-measure passages, the second of which is transposed down a perfect fourth. Measure 40 marks the beginning of

72

Ex. 9: Mvt. 2, mm. 28-61.

new material as the pace quickens. Measure 40 through 48 is a continuing phrase that can be divided into four two-measure sections. The first two sections, from measure 40 to 41 and 42 to 43, comprise yet another sequential pattern moving up a major second. The third and fourth sections, from measure 44 to 45 and 46 to 47, also move sequentially up a major second with a slight change to the melody in measure 47. The phrase beginning at measure 49 leads to the climax of the movement, and begins again with another sequential statement. Measures 49 and 50 are repeated moving up a minor second, creating a four-measure phrase for the trumpet. This section from measure 49 to 61 is an effective tension-and-release passage that is very romantic in nature. The trumpet player must be very expressive throughout and sensitive to the changing tension levels. After another short transition by the piano, the trumpet enters with the main theme again, which is the melody found from measure 28 to 34 in example 9. Then, as shown in example 10, the trumpet has its final entrance of the movement, which is a restatement of the opening cadenza figure, transposed down one step.

73

Ex. 10: Mvt. 2, mm. 79-87.

The ending cadenza is somewhat different from the one used at the beginning of the movement, but the core of the melody remains the same. This phrase is muted and very soft, so a plastic or fibre mute works best. The piano enters in measure 85 and simply cadences in B-flat minor, ending the movement.

Movement 3

The third movement is syncopated and dancelike and is extremely exciting. The piano begins with an ostinato rhythm that is used in much of the movement (see Ex. 11).

Ex. 11: Mvt. 3, mm. 1-5, piano part.

The movement is set in E-flat major and the trumpet enters in measure three with the main theme. This phrase has many awkward leaps and flexibility problems that are further complicated by the soft dynamic indication (see Ex. 12). The piano again assumes the main role and plays the first six measures of this theme before the trumpet re-enters.

Ex. 12: Mvt. 3, mm. 1-13, B-flat trumpet part. 74 The trumpet’s next entrance is simply a development of measures 9 through 13 (see Ex. 13). This passage is more difficult than the previous one because of the increased use of wide slurred intervals and a slightly higher range.

Ex. 13: Mvt. 3, mm. 21-29.

The piano’s three-measure interlude in measures 30 to 32 is a transition statement that modulates up a step to F major. Example 14 illustrates the trumpet’s entrance in the new key. It is primarily a restatement of the main theme, but after four measures the line is repeated up a minor third, where the first fragment of the theme is played, leading to another piano bridge that modulates back to E-flat major.

Ex. 14: Mvt. 3, mm. 33-40.

The trumpet enters again at measure 49. This passage is an eight-measure phrase that begins with a lively rhythm consisting of a dotted sixteenth note, thirty-second note, eighth note pattern (see Ex 15). This rhythmic statement is significant for two reasons: this is the first statement of what becomes a very important rhythmic motive for the rest of the movement and this rhythm is a tangible link to a rhythm that was also an important motive in the first movement, the dotted eighth note, sixteenth note, eighth note pattern first presented in measures 47 and 48 in example 2.

75

Ex. 15: Mvt. 3, mm. 49-56.

At measure 57 the piano immediately shifts into G major for three measures where it states a fragment of the main theme before changing to B-flat major. The piano introduces a new theme at measure 61, which the trumpet then states starting at measure 69 (see Ex. 16).

Ex. 16: Mvt. 3, mm. 69-77.

At measure 77 the piano starts a four-measure transition in D major that leads to the tonic, E-flat major. This transition consists of sixteenth notes, either in scale passages or in thirds. This constant sixteenth note pulse is the dominant rhythmic motive of the movement. After two measures in E-flat, the trumpet enters with this motive:

Mvt. 3, mm. 83-84.

This fragment, which is the beginning of a new phrase in the movement, is reminiscent of the Overture of Tchaikovsky’s ballet, The Nutcracker, as shown in this example taken from a piano score of the ballet:

76

Suite from The Nutcracker, Overture, mm. 1-2, piano score.

The inclusion of this excerpt from one of the greatest Russian composers is a display of nationalism. While a subtle gesture, Wassilenko reiterates it four measures later in a slight variation for those listeners who may have missed it the first time. The rest of the phrase is a lively passage of scales and arpeggios, along with the now expected use of rhythmic repetition (see Ex. 17).

Ex. 17: Wassilenko Trumpet Concerto, Mvt. 3, mm. 83-98, B-flat trumpet part.

The piano repeats the theme found in example 17 and includes some scale material that acts as a transition into the trumpet’s next entrance, a variation of the first theme. The theme is then developed using the constant sixteenth note rhythm that is the rhythmic motive of the movement (see Ex. 18).

Ex. 18: Mvt. 3, mm. 111-123.

77 The trumpet then immediately embarks upon a virtuosic variation of the material found in example 15. This statement develops the sextuplet rhythmic idea that was briefly presented in measure 55 (see Ex. 19). The passage is quite difficult, as the trumpet player must maintain the quick tempo through varying rhythms. This passage is difficult because of the wide angular intervals and the awkward transition from sextuplets to the double-tongued thirty second notes.

Ex. 19: Mvt. 3, mm. 124-131.

The piano continues the rhythm found in measures 130 and 131 for two measures before abruptly stopping. The trumpet then has yet another cadenza based on the main theme and its second variation found in example 19 (see Ex. 20).

Ex. 20: Mvt. 3, mm. 135-155. 78 Stamina is a particular challenge when playing this cadenza. The sustained use of the upper register coupled with the many technical intricacies involved pose exceptional difficulties to the performer. The cadenza cadences in D-flat major, which is the key of the following section. Here the piano plays the full theme found in example 17. The trumpet enters in measure 163 with a combination of the beginning statement reminiscent of the Nutcracker overture and the recurring rhythmic motive found in measure 128 of example 19 (see Ex. 21). After the second time this phrase is presented, the trumpet reiterates the ostinato rhythm with which the piano began the movement, as shown in example 11. This leads into a rallantando and a caesura at the end of measure 174.

Ex. 21: Mvt. 3, mm. 163-174.

Measure 175 to the end of the piece is a brilliant coda that recaps many of the themes and motives previously used in both the first and third movements (see Ex. 22).

Ex. 22: Mvt. 3, mm. 175-197.

Measures 175 and 176 are a return to the ostinato rhythm from the beginning of the movement. When the trumpet enters in measure 177, it has a direct quote from the second statement of the first theme found in the first movement, as shown in example 1. This time the passage is accompanied by the piano with the driving ostinato pattern, whereas in the first movement it was an unaccompanied cadenza. The trumpet repeats 79 this phrase and cadences in measure 185 on the dominant, preparing the final flourish to the end. From measure 186 to the end of the piece, Wassilenko incorporates the sextuplet motive from example 18 and the rhythmic motive in measures 130 and 131 from example 18. The trumpet executes a series of arpeggios outlining E-flat major leading to a strong finish.

Conclusions

Wassilenko recycled many of the rhythmic and melodic ideas in his Trumpet Concerto. The exhaustive repetition of rhythmic motives is especially characteristic of the Russian nationalist tradition. Wassilenko’s compositional skills allowed him to produce a lengthy concerto with a minimal amount of musical ideas. His use of a melodic fragment of Tchaikovsky’s suite from The Nutcracker is also a tribute to Russian music. Wassilenko employed a large number of cadenzas and cadenza-like phrases to add to the drama of the piece. This piece has unfortunately remained unplayed for many years. The efforts of Timofei Dokshitzer, who collaborated with the composer on improving the concerto, have afforded more trumpet players access to this piece. The International Trumpet Guild also attempted to revive interest in the concerto by including it as part of the selected repertoire for the 2000 Ellsworth Smith International Trumpet Competition. Sergeï Wassilenko’s Trumpet Concerto certainly warrants more study and performance as it is an exceptional piece of music.

Timofei Dokshitzer’s Recording of the Wassilenko Trumpet Concerto

The recording examined for purposes of this treatise is the Macrophon CD 916-2, entitled “Poème,” released in 1991. The concerto is accompanied by the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra, conducted by Algis Juraitis. Dokshitzer’s interpretations on this recording are very interesting. As with many performers, he alters some articulations, a practice that is considered artistic license. His cadenza presentations are unique and have his usual exciting flair. The quality of his playing is excellent and listening to the recording can prove to be valuable tool when learning the concerto. The first cadenza entrance of the piece, as shown in example 1, is phrased rather unexpectedly by Dokshitzer. He plays the first two measures flowingly, but then makes a distinct break between measures 10 and 11 and then again when this phrase is repeated in sequence between measures 23 and 24. This seems to break the momentum of the phrase and prevents it, in this writer's judgment, from being a cohesive unit. Dokshitzer’s interpretation of the cadenza found in example 4 is excellent. In measure 164 Dokshitzer tongues the ascending scale passage that is indicated as being slurred. He may well have changed this articulation for consistency's sake, for a similar passage found in measure 162 has no slur in the part. This is a logical decision and adds a fitting touch of virtuosity.

80 When Dokshitzer approaches the end of the cadenza in measures 181 to 183, he plays the stringendo and rallantando indications as marked, but he plays these eighth notes very broadly and resolves the cadence quite gently. This interpretation differs from that in the printed music, which indicates a strong end to the cadenza. The second movement is beautifully played. The middle romantic section, shown in example 9, is exceptional. Dokshitzer creates a passionate quality that fits this section extremely well. Again, as in the Tamberg Concerto’s second movement, Dokshitzer chooses to use a cup mute in the muted section. This adds a mysterious quality that enhances the end of the movement. The third movement is another brilliant display. There are a few slight imperfections, but these do not distract from the excellence of his performance. Again the artist alters some articulations to promote consistency, but sometimes he does not execute these the same way in each occurrence. For instance, in measure 7 of the movement (as seen in Ex. 11), Dokshitzer slurs the first two notes of the measure to match the articulation in measure four. This is a valid change. However, when the theme returns in measure 111 (Ex. 17), Dokshitzer tongues all of the notes in measure 116, this time choosing not to match the articulation found in measure 113. This example of inconsistency somewhat negates the reason for changing the articulation in the first place. Dokshitzer’s use of dynamics sometimes differs from what is printed. He usually makes a point of emphasizing accents, and sometimes this approach achieves a slightly harsh sound quality. In the trumpet entrance in measure 49 (Ex. 14), however, Dokshitzer’s attack on the first note, notated as an accented forte, is weak and practically inaudible. In measure 51 in the same phrase, Dokshitzer does not observe the dynamic change to piano and boldly continues through the passage. Dokshitzer executes the last cadenza of the piece very well, but a minor interpretative issue exists. His choice of phrasing between measures 142 and 145 (Ex. 19) is interesting. He does not observe the breath or break indication between measures 142 and 143. He instead makes a slight break between measures 144 and 145. Another option is to make the last three measures lead into the fermata rather than insert a break and have the last measure stand alone. There is a definite question regarding a possible publishing error at the highest note of the cadenza, a printed concert d³. Dokshitzer changes this note to a concert d- flat³. An argument can be made to support the use of either pitch. The D-flat fits into the descending D-flat major scale that follows the fermata and the ultimate resolution is to a D-flat in measure 155. However, D-natural is also a prominent pitch, occurring in measures 148-150 and in measure 153 of the cadenza, while the only other D-flat heard is in measure 152. The inherent problem is that both notes could logically work since there are instances of both D-natural and D-flat. At the 2000 Ellsworth Smith International Trumpet Competition, it was announced that all competitors were encouraged to play a concert D-flat instead of the printed concert D. The reason given for that direction was Dokshitzer’s choice of pitch on his recording. The question remains, but his influence on the recording will most likely sway performers who listen to it to change the pitch to a D- flat. Dokshitzer skillfully performs the cadenza and the rest of the movement. The ending exhibits a very heroic quality, supported by his brilliant tone and vibrato. The 81 orchestra’s performance on the recording is also very good. The sonorities Wassilenko chose demonstrate his gift for orchestration. The recording quality is good, except for one warbled sound during the interlude after the second cadenza statement of the first movement. Like the Tamberg, if any editing or splices were made, they are inaudible. This recording is at a very high quality, just like those that have made Timofei Dokshitzer such a respected performer. His efforts in commissioning, recording, arranging, and performing Russian works have made Russian trumpet music more accessible to performers around the world. Although he no longer records or performs concert tours, his influence is long lasting and far-reaching to all levels of trumpet players and will be for many generations to come.

82

CHAPTER 6

CONCLUSIONS

Russia has a rich and varied social and music history. It is interesting to examine how music evolved in different countries in Europe. Russia is particularly interesting because it contains so many varied cultures due to its vast size and location. The areas closer to the western region of Russia, such as Moscow and Leningrad, share similarities with concepts of Western music that have developed over the last 400 years. Because Russia was isolated politically from Europe, their musical development was stunted somewhat until the middle of the nineteenth century when Russian composers began to contribute to Western music. The trumpet’s history also contributes to how it was incorporated in Western music through the centuries. With the trumpet first gaining the capability to play notes outside of the harmonic series in 1796 with the invention of the keyed trumpet, and the development of the valve around 1815, its repertoire in both the orchestral and solo genres is quite limited. Through the mid to late nineteenth century, at the same time that Russian music began to emerge, so did the popularity of the trumpet and cornet. Cornet soloists became a popular attraction, and military-style marches and cornet solos were commonly heard throughout Europe by the lower classes as the higher classes attended symphony and opera performances. Cornet solos were not considered serious music by critics, yet they had a large appeal to the middle-class audience. The history of Russian music and that of the trumpet are linked in the simple fact that both were emerging at roughly the same point in time. The evolution of the trumpet in Russia was largely due to the influence of German musicians. Wilhem Wurm, Willy Brandt, and Oskar Böhme were three German trumpeters who traveled to Russia in search of performing opportunities and through their playing, teaching, and composing, they influenced future generations of Russian trumpeters. During their careers they established the foundations of what evolved into a Russian trumpet sound: a strong, unique tone mixed with the expression of Russian nationalism. The greatest trumpeter to emerge from Russia is Timofei Dokshitzer. He has been an icon in the trumpet world over 50 years. His performances and recordings have brought the Russian style of trumpet playing international recognition and exhibited a fresh new perspective to the trumpet. Dokshitzer is largely responsible for the writing of and accessibility to Russian trumpet literature. His efforts are the reason that two of the three pieces discussed in this treatise exist today. Not only has he collaborated with composers in the writing of new music for the trumpet, he has written trumpet pieces himself as well as arranging music from other genres for the trumpet, such as Maurice Ravel’s Rhapsody in Blue and Dmitri Shostakovich’s Concerto for Piano, Trumpet, and Strings in C minor. 83 Oskar Böhme, Eino Tamberg, and Sergeï Wassilenko wrote exceptional concerti for the trumpet. Their ties to Russia are evident in the way they compose their music. Russian nationalist music can contain at least some of the following characteristics: • Simple diatonic melodic structure • Stress given to leaps of fourths and fifths • Relatively narrow range of melody • Frequent repetition of one or two rhythmic motives • Use of modality which led to nonfunctional harmony • Avoidance of advanced chromaticism • Influence of pre-existing Russian music or folksong While some common traits exist in Russian music, it has been observed that it is nearly impossible to place all Russian music into a restrictive category. Russian composers’ lack of musical training contributed to the unorthodox methods they employed to create music. This fact, coupled with the frequent inclusion of folk melodies which were based on unique Russian modal structures, result in a distinctive sound. As Russian composers gained more musical training, their efforts became more influenced by the music composed throughout Europe. However, nationalism was still very strong, which is also a characteristic of Russian music. The combination of these influences provided a unique indigenous sound and practice. The concerti presented in this treatise may not contain all of the qualities listed above, but they do contain at least two or three of these traits. Estonian music followed its own timeline and had a few unique qualities that were discussed earlier, but for the most part, music of Estonia followed a similar path as did that of the rest of western Russia. The combination of German tradition with Russian idioms and tradition is the foremost aspect that separates Russian music from that of any other culture. Over eighty trumpet pieces with the title of concerto have been written over the past century in Russia. Recent research by Dr. Amy Gilreath revealed the existence of these works to musicians and scholars. For many years, as long as Communism reigned, the Russian dictatorship had stringent restrictions on any music produced by Russian composers, preventing it from ever leaving the country. Now this music is finally becoming available to trumpeters worldwide. There may exist many other smaller pieces that do not bear the title of “Concerto” that have not yet been discovered. It is hoped that this treatise will stimulate interest in discovering some of that music and perhaps investigation to uncover music of other countries and cultural backgrounds. Only through the discovery, learning, and performing of new music for the trumpet will its history and future performers continue to be enriched and grow.

84 APPENDIX A

KNOWN PUBLICATIONS OF THE BÖHME, TAMBERG, AND WASSILENKO CONCERTI

Böhme, Oskar. Concerto in F minor for Trumpet and Piano, op. 18. Hamburg and London: D. Rahter, 1941.

Böhme, Oskar. Concert, op. 18. Leipzig and Moscow: P. Jurgenson, 1899.

Tamberg, Eino. Konzert, op. 42. Crans-Montana, Switzerland: Editions Marc Reift, 1995.

Wassilenko, Sergeï. Concert-Poème in c-moll, op 113. Crans-Montana, Switzerland: Editions Marc Reift, 1994.

85 APPENDIX B

KNOWN RECORDINGS OF THE BÖHME, TAMBERG, AND WASSILENKO CONCERTI

Böhme Concerto

Aubier, Eric. Romantic Trumpet, CD 795061. Pierre Verany, no date given.

Dokshitser, Timofei. Romantic Music for Trumpet, CD C10 23083. Melodiya, no date given.

Dokshitser, Timofei. Russian Concert, CD 7008. Macrophon, no date given.

Ghitalla, Armando. Trumpet Concertos from Three Centuries, CD 9350 1845. Opus, no date given.

Næss, Lars. Böhme Concerto in E minor, CD Ar 1909. Aurora, 1986.

Sommerhalder, Max. Böhme Concerto in F minor, CD ACC 140 027. Accord, no date given.

Tamberg Concerto

Harjanne, Jouko. Trumpet Concertos, CD 0630-13707-2. Finlandia, 1996

Dokshitser, Timofei. Rhapsody, CD 903. Macrophon, 1990.

Wassilenko Concerto

Harjanne, Jouko. Trumpet Concertos, CD 0630-13707-2. Finlandia, 1996

Dokshitser, Timofei. Poème, CD 916-2. Macrophon, 1991. 86 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abraham, Gerald. On Russian Music. Freeport: Books For Libraries Press, 1970.

Abraham, Gerald. Studies In Russian Music. Freeport: Books For Libraries Press, 1968.

Bakst, James. A History of Russian-Soviet Music. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1962.

Böhme, Oskar. Concerto in F minor for Trumpet and Piano, op. 18. Hamburg and London: D. Rahter, 1941.

Böhme, Oskar. Concert, op. 18. Leipzig and Moscow: P. Jurgenson, 1899.

Briney, Bruce Cullen. “The Development of Russian Trumpet Methodology and its Influence on the American School.” DM diss., Northwestern University,1997.

Calvocoressi, M.D. A Survey of Russian Music. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1974.

Dokshizer, Timofei. The Memoirs of Timofei Dokshizer. Westfield, MA: International Trumpet Guild, 1997.

Dokshitser, Timofei. Poème, CD 916-2. Macrophon, 1991.

Dokshitser, Timofei. Rhapsody, CD 903. Macrophon, 1990.

Dokshitser, Timofei. Russian Concert, CD 7008. Macrophon, no date given.

Estonian Music Council website, www.kul.ee/emc

Estonian Music Information Centre website, www.emic.kul.ee

Gilreath, Amy. “A Bibliography of Trumpet Concertos from the Former Soviet Union.” International Trumpet Guild Journal 19, no. 2 (December 1994): 49-52.

Gilreath, Amy Suzanne. “A Descriptive Study of Selected Trumpet Concertos from the Soviet.” DMA diss., University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1992.

87 Green, Douglass M. Form in Tonal Music. 2nd ed. Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich College Publishers, 1979.

Grout, Donald J. and Claude V. Palisca. A History of Western Music. 4th ed. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Co., 1988.

Krebs, Stanley D. Soviet Composers and the Development of Soviet Music. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1970.

Leonard, Richard A. A History of Russian Music. New York: The MacMillan Company, 1957.

Lowrey, Alvin L. Lowrey’s International Trumpet Discography. Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1990.

Melcher, Kristina, ed. Schwann Opus: The Reference Guide to Classical Music. Santa Fe, NM: Schwann Publications, 1996.

Music of Finland website, http://www.musicfinland.com

Musics of the Soviet Union, CD SF 40002. Smithsonian/Folkways, no date given.

Newman, Ernest, ed. Modern Russian Songs Volume I. Boston: Oliver Ditson Co., 1921.

Newman, Ernest, ed. Modern Russian Songs Volume II. Boston: Oliver Ditson Co., 1921.

Olkhovsky, Andrey. Music Under the Soviets. New York: Frederick A. Praeger Pub., 1955.

Onno van Rijen’s Shostakovich & Other Soviet Composers Page, http://ovar.myweb.nl

Ottman, Robert W. Advanced Harmony. 4th ed. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1992.

Ottman, Robert W. Elementary Harmony. 4th ed. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1989.

Ridenour, Robert C. Nationalism, Modernism, and Personal Rivalry in Nineteenth- Century Russian Music. Ann Arbor: University Microfilms International, 1981.

Rubin, Rose N. and Michael Stillman, ed. A Russian Song Book. New York: Random House, 1962.

88

Sadie, Stanley, ed. New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1995. S.v. “Böhme, Oskar,” by Edward H. Tarr.

Sadie, Stanley, ed. New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1995. S.v. “Estonia,” by Urve Lippus and Ingrid Rüütel.

Sadie, Stanley, ed. New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1980. S.v. “Tamberg, Eino,” by Marina Nestyeva.

Sadie, Stanley, ed. New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1995. S.v. “Wasilenko, Sergei,” by Merike Vaitmaa.

Sadie, Stanley, ed. New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1980. S.v. “Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,” by Svetlana Sarkisian.

Sadie, Stanley, ed. New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1980. S.v. “Vasilenko, Sergey Nikiforovich,” by Inna Barsova.

Schwarz, Boris. Music and Musical Life in Soviet Russia. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1972.

Seaman, Gerald. R. History of Russian Music. New York: Frederick A. Praeger Pub., 1967.

Seaton, Douglass. Ideas and Styles in the Western Musical Tradition. Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing Company, 1991.

Selianin, Anatoly. “The Trumpet Concerto by Alexandra Pakhmutova, Second Version.” International Trumpet Guild Journal 9, no. 1 (September 1984): 36-45.

Selianin, Anatoly. “The Peculiarities of Trumpet Method Development for Trumpet Playing in Russia.” International Trumpet Guild Journal 8, no.1 (September 1983): 40-45.

Spencer, Peter. The Practice of Harmony. 3rd ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1996.

Swan, Alfred J. Russian Music. London: John Baker Publishers, 1973.

Tamberg, Eino. Konzert, op. 42. Crans-Montana, Switzerland: Editions Marc Reift, 1995.

Tarr, Edward H. “The Böhme Brothers, Oskar and Willi.” International Trumpet Guild Journal 21, no. 1 (September 1997): 16-26. 89

Tchaikovsky, Pyotr Il’yich. Suite for Full Orchestra Selected from the music of the Ballet “The Nutcracker,” op. 71a. New York: G. Schirmer, 1918.

Wassilenko, Sergeï. Concert-Poème in c-moll, op 113. Crans-Montana, Switzerland: Editions Marc Reift, 1994.

90 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

William J. Takacs was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on December 23, 1973. He earned the Bachelor of Music Degree from West Chester University of Pennsylvania and the Master of Music Degree from Bowling Green State University. He was the 1999 winner of the National Trumpet Competition and was a semifinalist in the 2000 Ellsworth Smith International Trumpet Solo Competition in Bad Säckingen, Germany. He previously served on the faculty of the State University of West Georgia. Currently he is Assistant Professor of Trumpet at West Texas A&M University in Canyon, Texas and performs as principal trumpet of the Amarillo Symphony Orchestra.

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