A Seasonal Treat

This post looks back at another work which I covered, very briefly, in an early post to this blog.  I've now decided that it deserves much more detailed examination.

Tchaikovsky composed the three greatest landmarks in the history of ballet with his music for Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, and Nutcracker.  These sweeping, symphonic scores with their mixture of romantic fervour, delicate beauty, and dramatic intensity have enchanted generations of music and dance lovers.  For decades afterwards, the art of composing music for the ballet was influenced by his work as decisively as the opera was influenced by Wagner.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the ballet scores of a leading Russian composer of the next generation, Alexander Glazunov.  I always feel that Glazunov even managed to outdo Tchaikovsky for sheer melodic fecundity and beauty in his 1899 ballet, The Seasons.  His orchestration of the music is masterly too, with particularly intriguing and memorable writing for various combinations of woodwind instruments.

I have to admit that my love for this delightful score was heavily influenced by my father.  The Seasons was a perennial favourite of his, and the music was frequently heard in our house as we were growing up.

The ballet which was based on this music was a one-act allegorical work in four tableaux.  The scenario was filled with symbolic figures of all kinds; the set builders and costume department at the Imperial Ballet must have had a field day preparing for the 1900 premiere production.  That production was the first time Anna Pavlova, then 19 years old, had a role created for her.

The first tableau is Winter.  The short prelude opens on a strange descending chromatic progression spread out over several octaves and multiple instruments.  The tone of this introductory movement is wistful to begin with, then becomes more dramatic before a trilling solo flute leads on into the Winter scene proper.  There follow a series of short Variations (solo dances) for Frost (Pavlova's role), Ice, Hail, and Snow.  Frost is a spirited dance highlighted again by the flute.  Ice has a slower, elegant little dance marked by the harp and celesta.  Hail dances to a fast-moving melodic figure falling and rising against a background of chattering woodwinds.  Snow is depicted in a gentle waltz, a lyrical duet of oboe and horn with muted strings.  The music  of the prelude returns as gnomes enter and light a fire, banishing Winter and his attendants.

The Spring tableau is announced by horns and swirling harp arpeggios.  Roses dance to a waltz-like theme in the winds.  Spring herself enters to a gentle, slow theme in the winds with a beguiling string counterpoint.  A bouncy little triple-time melody ushers in the dances of Zephyr and the Birds.

Without pause, the music glides into the first movement of the Summer tableau, a bolder waltz theme employing most of the orchestra at once.  This builds to a grand climax which then gives place to the Waltz of the Cornflowers and Poppies, a charming movement with the melody carried alternately by winds and strings over an accompaniment of horn chords.  A gentler, nostalgic-sounding Barcarolle follows.  The Spirit of the Corn dances her Variation to a virtuoso clarinet solo.  The most dramatic movement yet is labelled simply as Coda, a name which belies the bewildering cross-rhythms infusing almost every bar.  This music, with its ominous drum-like beats, depicts a dramatic attempt by Satyrs and Fauns to abduct the Spirit of the Corn, an attempt clearly heard in the powerful crescendo of rising sequences balanced by a descending scale in the bass.  The Satyrs and Fauns are repulsed in the triumphant climax by Zephyr.

The fourth tableau, Autumn, contains the most well-known music in the ballet, the enormously energetic Bacchanale.  In the 1907 revival, Pavlova danced a major role as the lead Bacchante in this scene, and she then danced The Seasons all over the world in this signature role.  The Seasons was more popular in the early 20th century than now, and I suspect that was mostly due to Pavlova's advocacy -- even though her touring company presented the ballet in a truncated form.

The Bacchanale takes the form of a rondo.  Inserted episodes with music drawn from the earlier tableaux allow for a classic ballet finale, in which characters from all parts of the work return to participate in a celebratory full-company dance, here surrounded by the Bacchantes under a whirl of falling leaves.

This vigorous celebration is interrupted by the Petit Adagio.  This number pays tribute to the adagio movements of Tchaikovsky, always among the greatest and most emotional highlights in that master's ballet scores.  This one is "petit" in name only.  Its sweeping theme, filled with nostalgia and a sense of reminiscence, of looking back over a year or a lifetime, is fully the equal of anything that even Tchaikovsky composed.  A rapid Variation for the Satyr now follows.

The Bacchanale theme returns, translated into a fast, jiggy 6/8 tempo as the crowning final dance of the ballet.  This culminating raucous celebration dies away into the final coda, a brief Apotheosis giving a vision of stars and constellations shining down upon the earth to a gentler version of the Bacchanale theme.

Such riches of melody, such skillful orchestration, such unfailing musical interest, and all compressed into a short span of just 35 minutes -- Glazunov's The Seasons is truly an undervalued masterpiece.

Cello Beauties From Spain

Gaspar Cassadó was a noted Catalan cellist and composer during the first half of the twentieth century. His compositions include a number of musical hoaxes, but also some works of real distinction -- and it's a pity that his music has not achieved wider currency.

One work of real significance is his Suite per Violoncello, composed in 1926. The music contains brief quotations from two significant influences, Kodaly's Sonata for Solo Cello and the famous flute solo from Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe. Loudest of all, though, is the sound of the traditional Spanish and Catalan dance forms which lie at the foundation of the work. Like Bach's famous suites for the same instrument, Cassadó has taken the dances as a point of departure to create music of real stature and subtlety which goes far beyond its dance roots.

This 17-minute work in three movements opens with a Preludio-Fantasia which -- as its name suggests -- opens with improvisatory material suggestive of a Bach prelude gone to the Mediterranean. This movement eventually merges into a zarabanda, a Spanish sarabande, and includes much lyrical writing on the lower strings. This is where the solo cello character of the music is most idiomatic; low writing such as this would be in danger of being swamped in a work for cello and piano.

The second movement is a Sardana, a duple-time Catalan dance with a merry, jovial character. The folk-like character of the dance is emphasized by the frequent use of double-stops, giving the music an earthy, rustic feeling. A contrasting middle section, a trio if you like, moves to a more lyrical melody for a few moments, before the dance resumes. The movement ends with a rapid flourish.

The third movement of the suite is entitled Intermezzo -- Danza finale and is effectively a double movement linked together. The Intermezzo proper is another exploratory section with (to my ears) a slightly sad, almost mournful feeling. The music then launches briskly into the Danza finale, a proud and lively jota in triple time, with inset slower cadenza sections. The build-up to the abrupt final chords is again earthed by double stops low in the instrument's range, and the last notes plunge unexpectedly downwards.

On a splendid new recording from the Canadian ensemble, the Cheng²Duo, this Suite is accompanied by a later work, Requiebros for cello and piano, written in the 1930s. The title can be translated into English as either "flirtations" or "compliments," probably with both meanings implied. It's wise not to read too much into the title -- the music is an entertaining, lively dance, of popular folk-like character, and does no more than hint at the atmosphere conjured by the title. It's the sort of piece made to order to serve as a lively encore at the end of a recital -- and may well have been written with that purpose in mind.

The recordings of these works, by the way, come as part of a spectacular, energetic anthology of Spanish music from the early years of the twentieth century. It's issued on the Audite label and can be downloaded from that source.