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Three pieces by arguably one of the most famous composers to live, Mozart, follow the span of his adult life: his Symphony No. 29 written at age 18, Maurerische Trauermusik, written at age 26, and the famed Requiem, which some say he wrote anticipating his own death in 1791 at age 35. The Syracuse University Oratorio Society joins The Syracuse Orchestra for this epic, all-Mozart concert.


PROGRAM

MOZART: Maurerische Trauermusik, K.477 (479a)
MOZART: Symphony No. 29
MOZART: Requiem K. 626  

 


Thanks to our generous sponsors!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harold L. Husovsky, MD & Susan E. Stred, MD

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


LARRY’S LISTENING RECOMMENDATIONS

PROGRAM NOTES

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) lived a short life—but the range of his style was nearly as great as the depth of his imagination, and tonight we juxtapose one of his brightest, most buoyant symphonies with two works that stand among his darkest and most profound.

The Symphony No. 29 (K. 201/186a, 1774), in the sunlit key of A major, may be the work of a teenager, but it’s a remarkably sophisticated one—and its sheer confidence may explain why it has become the most popular of Mozart’s early symphonies. Written in the ...

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) lived a short life—but the range of his style was nearly as great as the depth of his imagination, and tonight we juxtapose one of his brightest, most buoyant symphonies with two works that stand among his darkest and most profound.

The Symphony No. 29 (K. 201/186a, 1774), in the sunlit key of A major, may be the work of a teenager, but it’s a remarkably sophisticated one—and its sheer confidence may explain why it has become the most popular of Mozart’s early symphonies. Written in the wake of a trip to Vienna, where Mozart was energized by a strong jolt of new music, it shows the young composer fusing that exhilarating experience with his earlier influences to produce something original. Original—and arresting: the opening themes of both the first and last movements include striking octave leaps, and one can imagine the young composer flexing his muscles and challenging his imagination. He challenged his players, too. “It’s tremendously difficult for the orchestra,” says conductor Larry Loh, “with really high parts for the horns. There’s something about the sound of the high horn that gives it an exciting, on-the-edge feeling.”

If the Symphony No. 29 shows the young composer at his brightest, the Requiem shows Mozart at his darkest. Even the instrumentation is dark, with the elimination of flutes and horns, and the inclusion of basset horns (darker cousins of the clarinet), which, in Larry’s words, “add great color and depth to the winds.” It also reveals Mozart at his most serious and most dramatic, with elaborate Bach-inspired counterpoint and overwhelming choruses.

Mozart died before he could complete it. In fact, at tonight’s performance, Larry will take a brief pause after the last measure that Mozart composed, the eighth measure of the Lacrimosa—what Larry calls “one of the most poignant and expressive things he ever wrote.” Just as Tchaikovsky’s gloomy Sixth Symphony took on a rich mythology because he composed it right before his unexpected death, so the concurrence of Mozart’s unfinished Requiem and his own early death has encouraged all sorts of rumors about ghostly portents —and even persistent conspiracy theories that he was poisoned. (This mythology has been most memorably dramatized in Pushkin’s 1830 Mozart and Salieri and in Peter Shaffer’s play and film Amadeus.)

Granted, there is a strange story behind the work, but it centers more on plagiarism than on poison. In July 1791, Mozart was approached by a go-between for an anonymous donor who wanted to commission a Requiem. That donor was Count Franz von Walsegg, a wealthy amateur who had the habit of commissioning works from professional composers and passing them off as his own. In any case, Mozart was initially motivated to accept the job by the perennial need for cash rather than by any premonition of his death. In fact, while the Requiem project sat unfulfilled, Mozart, an inveterate multitasker, was also working on a number of other pieces, including the radiant Clarinet Concerto. If Mozart ever really felt that this was his own Requiem (as some sources have claimed), it was only toward the very end of his life, months after the piece had been commissioned.

Still, whatever the misleading mythology, Mozart’s death did bring up real editorial problems, first for his wife Constanze, then for modern performers. With the financial standing of his family increasingly desperate, Constanze had to find someone to finish the work. Eventually she settled on Mozart’s student and copyist, Franz Xaver Süssmayr (1766-1803). Had Mozart shared ideas about the unfinished portions of the Requiem with Süssmayr? We may never know, but in any case, Süssmayr rose to the occasion (surely, the only music by him in the repertoire is his contribution to this work). The sections he composed fit in well, and he had the judgment to end the piece by bringing back music from the beginning of the work, thus rounding out the Requiem with authentic Mozart. Over the years, dozens of others have tried their hand at more “scholarly” reconstructions, but none have really caught on. For most listeners, the Süssmayr edition is “the” Mozart Requiem, and that’s the one we’ll be hearing tonight.

What kind of performance can we expect? Larry thinks of himself primarily as an instrumentalist rather than a singer. Still, he first performed this piece as a high schooler, singing in a chorus during the summer (at a time when he was too young to appreciate its depth); and his first degree was in choral conducting. This background in choral music has affected the way he conducts. “I have always approached every instrument in the way I would approach the human voice, so it seems like something that is literally speaking. You need breath, you need accent, you need emphasis and context in the line to bring out some syllable or a word.” That’s true in orchestral music; it’s even truer in works for chorus and orchestra; and it’s especially true here, where Mozart has been so careful with his setting of the text. “I think of the orchestra as conveying the words the same way the chorus does. If we’re all thinking the same way, I hope that the words come alive with the orchestra in the same way that they do with the chorus.”

To open the concert, we have another somber work, the brief Masonic Funeral Music, K. 477, written in 1785. The Freemasons were, at various points during Mozart’s lifetime, either banned or closely regulated by the powers that be—but Mozart was a serious member, and numbered many other Masons among his close friends. His opera The Magic Flute is firmly grounded in Masonic beliefs and rituals, but he wrote a fair amount of other music influenced by their moral and spiritual principles, too, including this one.

The Funeral Music started out as a work for chorus and orchestra (now lost, although various musicians have tried to reconstruct it), re-emerging as an orchestral work for two oboes, clarinet, basset horn, two horns, and strings, and further revised into its current version, which adds two more basset horns and contrabassoon. For practical reasons, it’s often performed with the Requiem: once you’ve gathered up some basset horns, you might as well take advantage of them. But there are aesthetic reasons for pairing these pieces as well: although the Funeral Music doesn’t have the kind of Bach-inspired counterpoint we hear in the Requiem, the two works share a tonal darkness and a seriousness of purpose. Lasting around five minutes, the Funeral Music is a somber processional—based on a liturgical melody tied to a text from Lamentations of Jeremiah—with an introduction and a coda, thematically linked. Although anchored in C Minor, it ends with a comforting glow of C Major light, perhaps reflecting Mozart’s belief (as he put it in a letter to his father) in “the peace and consolation” of death. It makes a powerful introduction to the evening.

Peter J. Rabinowitz
Have any comments or questions? Please write to me at prabinowitz@SyracuseOrchestra.org


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