San Diego Symphony Orchestra Mozart's Piano
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SAN DIEGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA MOZART’S PIANO CONCERTO NO. 9 A JACOBS MASTERWORKS CONCERT Jun Märkl, conductor January 31 and February 1, 2020 FELIX MENDELSSOHN Trumpet Overture, Op. 101 WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART Piano Concerto No. 9 in E-flat Major, K. 271: Jeunehomme Allegro Andantino Rondo: Presto Benjamin Grosvenor, piano INTERMISSION FELIX MENDELSSOHN Symphony No. 5 in D Major, Op. 107: Reformation Andante – Allegro con fuoco Allegro vivace Andante Chorale: Andante con moto – Allegro vivace Trumpet Overture, Op. 101 FELIX MENDELSSOHN Born February 3, 1809, Hamburg Died November 4, 1847, Leipzig Listeners should not be deceived by the high opus number of the Trumpet Overture, for this is not a late work – in fact, Mendelssohn wrote it when he was a 17-year-old boy. Mendelssohn was probably the most gifted of all musical prodigies, and his genius was made clear by two remarkable works composed during his teens: the Octet for Strings, written in October 1825 when he was 16, and the A Midsummer Night’s Dream Overture, composed the following summer. In between those two early masterpieces – in March 1826 – the young composer wrote his Trumpet Overture. That name is a slight misnomer. It comes from the blazing C Major calls that ring out at the beginning, but these are played not just by the trumpets but by the entire brass section: trumpets, horns and three trombones. A better title might have been “Fanfare Overture,” for those opening fanfares return at key moments in the course of this music. Several of Mendelssohn’s overtures, notably Fingal’s Cave, are in effect miniature tone poems: despite their classical form, they paint pictures or tell tales. The Trumpet Overture, however, remains abstract music – rather than telling a tale, it is notable for its festive sound and bright energy. Mendelssohn’s marking is Allegro vivace, and that sizzling pace never lets up across the nine-minute span of this overture. Mendelssohn alternates the brass fanfares with more nimble secondary material, and the Trumpet Overture builds to a grand conclusion that brings back those fanfares one final time. Mendelssohn may have completed this music in 1826, but it had to wait two years for its first performance, which took place in Berlin on April 18, 1828. The young composer was not entirely satisfied when he heard it, and when the Royal Philharmonic Society of London commissioned a series of works from Mendelssohn in the fall of 1832, he took that opportunity to revise the Trumpet Overture; this revised version, premiered in London in 1833, is the one always heard today. Mendelssohn, however, did not publish the overture, and it remained in manuscript at the time of his death at age 38. After his death, his family published a number of his manuscripts, with the result that the Trumpet Overture – a very early work – bears a very high an opus number. Piano Concerto No. 9 in E-flat Major, K. 271: Jeunehomme WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART Born January 27, 1756, Salzburg Died December 5, 1791, Vienna In January 1777, a pianist from Paris visited Salzburg. Her name was Mademoiselle Jeunehomme, and Mozart must have been impressed by her playing, because for her visit he composed a piano concerto far beyond anything imagined before. Earlier keyboard concertos, including Mozart’s own, had descended from the baroque concerto, in which the solo instrument was essentially absorbed into the orchestral texture and allowed only brief moments when it broke free from that ensemble. With this concerto Mozart transforms – transcends! – that entire tradition: now soloist and orchestra are equals, they share the presentation and development of ideas, and the concerto suddenly evolves from a simple display piece into a form suited to the most serious musical expression. But what is equally remarkable is the new depth evident here. From a young man who had spent the previous year writing church music, serenades and choral canons that – while technically accomplished – are unremarkable, suddenly comes music full of contrast, a sense of space and scope, and – in the slow movement – a new intensity of feeling. Musicologist Alfred Einstein has called this concerto “Mozart’s Eroica,” suggesting that just as Beethoven suddenly expanded the whole conception of the symphony in the Eroica, Mozart here did the same for the piano concerto. Mozart shatters precedent in the first moments of the Allegro. The orchestra opens with a one-measure figure, and the piano leaps in to complete the phrase itself. The orchestra repeats its opening gesture, and once again the piano takes over to complete the phrase. This opening establishes the most unusual feature of the first movement – the equality of piano and orchestra and their mutual development of ideas. When the piano later makes its main entrance, it further declares its independence by introducing completely new material. But first the orchestra lays out a wealth of ideas, and when the piano eventually makes its main entrance, it arrives imaginatively on a long trill. Mozart’s development, largely motivic, is focused and brief, and the recapitulation is enlivened by the new sonorities he generates as familiar themes return in new instrumental colors. The Andantino, in C minor, is the first movement in any Mozart concerto in a minor key. Often compared to an aria from a tragic opera because of its intense and expressive lyric lines, this movement opens with a pulsing, dark theme from muted violins in their lowest register, a theme that sets the mood for the entire movement (and it is a mark of the new sophistication of this concerto that the two violin sections are in canon here). Though the Andantino later moves into radiant E-flat Major, it remains deeply affecting throughout, prefiguring the great slow movements of Mozart’s late piano concertos. The concluding movement is a propulsive rondo, though even here Mozart introduces an original touch. Midway through, he brings the music to a halt and inserts a lengthy minuet (marked Cantabile), which he then treats to four elaborate variations. If the dark expressiveness of the slow movement suggested opera seria, the decorative elegance of these variations takes us into the world of opera buffa. This extended interlude stands in pleasing contrast to the energy of the rondo theme, and Mozart makes the transition back to the rondo with great skill – when that Allegro finally arrives, we feel that we have suddenly stepped back onto a speeding train. The Concerto in E-flat Major is in all ways an original piece of music, one of those rare works that in one stroke expand the possibilities of a form. Mozart must have felt a continuing affection for this music, because he performed it in Vienna after his move from Salzburg in 1781. Coming from the month of the composer’s 21st birthday, the Concerto in E-flat Major marks Mozart’s coming of age in more ways than one. Mademoiselle Jeunehomme, meanwhile, has passed into the shadows of history. Even her first name has not survived, and she is remembered today only as the inspiration for this impressive music. Symphony No. 5 in D Major, Op. 107: Reformation FELIX MENDELSSOHN In 1829 officials in Berlin began plans to observe the 300th anniversary of the Augsburg Confession the following year. The Augsburg Confession of 1530 had – after a period of violent religious warfare – produced the first formal statement of Lutheran principles, and as part of its celebration the Berlin government commissioned a symphony from the 20-year-old Felix Mendelssohn. It may at first seem odd that such a commission would go to a young man who had been born Jewish (the family converted to Christianity when Felix was 7); perhaps the young man’s revival of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion in April 1829 made him seem a likely choice to compose music for a Lutheran celebration. Mendelssohn began work on the symphony that fall and completed it in the spring of 1830, but then plans went awry: the revolutions that broke out across Europe in 1830 worried those in power, and the Berlin government canceled its observation of the Augsburg Confession. The symphony remained in manuscript for over two years, and Mendelssohn finally led the premiere in Berlin on November 15, 1832. Though it was commissioned to observe a historical event, this symphony is abstract music: it has no text, tells no story, has no program. But Mendelssohn does draw some of his themes from Lutheran church music, and the symphony’s progress from a turbulent first movement to resounding triumph in the final pages may suggest an implicit program. The first movement opens with a slow and suitably solemn introduction; as part of this Mendelssohn has the strings present very quietly the “Dresden Amen,” which Wagner would use in Parsifal, composed 50 years later. Gradually the pace accelerates into the dramatic Allegro con fuoco, where the main subject – in D minor – is stamped out by the full orchestra. This is an extremely dramatic movement, and some observers have been drawn to detect here a reflection of the religious wars that preceded the Augsburg Confession, though this must remain conjectural. At the close of the development, Mendelssohn brings back the “Dresden Amen,” but the movement presses on to a fierce conclusion: the full orchestra thunders out one more time the main theme of this impressive movement. The two central movements have no obvious relation to religious matters. The Allegro vivace – a scherzo in everything but name – is built on piquant outer sections and a flowing trio; Mendelssohn rounds the movement off with an extended – and very effective – coda. The Andante is so short that some have felt that it functions merely as a prelude to the last movement: it is built on only one theme, the violins’ long-lined opening melody, and proceeds without pause directly into the finale.