Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra: Online Concert Programme | Thu 21 March 2024

Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901): The Force of Destiny Overture

There is usually no more a definitive text of a Verdi opera than there is of a Bruckner symphony. In La Forza del destino (St Petersburg, 1862; revised Milan, 1869), there are two substantially different versions, that of the original Russian production and that of the Milan revision. The latter brought many changes, including a magnificent new overture, and an ending to the whole work in which the central character, Alvaro, lives on in Christian resignation rather than committing suicide having been cursed. Either way, the opera is the composer’s most nihilistic drama, a work which, in keeping with its title, places haunted individuals at the centre of a society caught in a dance of death. Verdi wrote, “After all, death is all there is in life. What else is there?”

The overture reflects this powerful and obsessive imagery, with exciting tunes and rhythms which are given added vitality and drama by the vivid orchestration. The work was conceived using themes from the opera, which of course had already been performed when this new music was composed. Thus it is dominated by the heroine Leonora’s expressive Act II aria, ‘Madre pietosa Vergine’ (‘Holy Mother, hear my prayer’), and by the rhythmically intense music representing the forces of fate.

© Terry Barfoot

Composer profile

Giuseppe Verdi was born in Roncole, some 80 miles south east of Milan, on 9/10 October, 1813. By the age of twelve he was studying with the organist of the main church in nearby Busseto.  In 1832 he failed his entrance exam for the Milan Conservatory; instead, he spent two years studying composition privately with Vincenzo Lavigna. Oberto (1837-8), the first of Verdi’s subsequent twenty-six operas, was successfully staged at La scala in 1839. Its successor, however, Un giorno regno (1840) was a flop. This setback, combined with his grief at the deaths of his first wife and both their children, brought him close to abandoning composing. However, Nabucco (1841) with its political overtones chiming with the Risorgimento movement for Italian independence fired his imagination. Such was the opera’s success that it brought Verdi fame at home and abroad. What Verdi described as his ‘years in the galleys’ followed, as he composed at breakneck speed twelve operas including Macbeth (1846-7, rev 1865) and Luisa Miller (1849). This period culminated with three superb popular masterpieces which remain cornerstones of the operatic repertoire: Rigoletto (1850-1), Il trovatore (1851-2, rev 1857) and La traviata (1853).

Alongside works for Italian opera houses, for instance Simone Boccanegra (1856-7, rev 1880-1) and Un ballo in maschera (1859), Verdi’s reputation now brought commissions from abroad resulting in premieres in St Petersburg, La forza del destino (1862), Paris, Don Carlos (1866, rev 1883-4) and Cairo, Aida (1870). In 1849 Verdi bought an estate at Sant’ Agata, near Busseto and in 1857 he married the soprano Giuseppina Strepponi. He was also politically active being elected as a Deputy to Italy’s first parliament in 1860 and later becoming a senator. After Aida Verdi had no further operatic plans, instead in 1873 he composed a String Quartet and in 1873-4, and although agnostic, the Messa da Requiem in honour of Alessandro Manzoni, the Italian writer, poet and political thinker whom he revered. In 1879, Verdi’s publisher Riccordi and the composer-poet Boito, cajoled him into writing Otello (1884-6). Verdi worked on it with great care; it was acclaimed at its premiere in 1887.  Two year later Boito proposed a further Shakespearean opera, Falstaff (1889 – 1893); the result was a comic masterwork. Verdi’s wife died in 1897, and his final work was Four Sacred Pieces (1888-9), for chorus and orchestra.

Verdi died in Milan on 27 January 1901: 28,000 of his countrymen and women lined the streets for his funeral.

© Andrew Burn

Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849): Piano Concerto No. 2

1. Maestoso
2. Larghetto
3. Allegro vivace

All six of Chopin’s orchestral compositions date from around 1830, forming a veritable creative outpouring, but only the two concertos are performed regularly today. They are held in high esteem by the world’s great pianists for the simple reason that they represent the ‘real’ Chopin. They should not be regarded as apprentice works, despite the composer’s youthfulness when he wrote them.

The F minor Concerto, opus 21, known today as the Second, was in fact Chopin’s first essay in the genre. The reason for the confusion resulted from problems with the publication of the orchestral parts, which delayed the work’s formal completion until 1836. In reality, however, the music was composed during the first weeks of 1830, and two private performances preceded the public premiere at the National Theatre in Warsaw, on 17 March 1830, with the composer as soloist. The audience responded most positively, the young Chopin having by now achieved cult status in Poland. By all accounts the central Larghetto received tumultuous acclaim.

Chopin’s orchestration is often compared unfavourably to that of Mozart and Beethoven; and it is true that the latter do offer a more sophisticated relationship between solo and ensemble. However, we should remember that these composers were not the young Chopin’s models. Rather he looked to the works of the new breed of piano virtuosi: for example, Field, Spohr, Moscheles and Hummel. Therefore Chopin’s achievement lay in the direction of moving pianistic decoration away from being an end in itself, and towards a more structural integration into the fabric of the music.

The concerto adopts the customary three-movement format. The opening Maestoso adopts a standard concerto first-movement form, except that the secondary theme is never really developed, and there is no separate cadenza for the soloist. The Larghetto contains the most characteristic music in the work, truly anticipating the poetic genius and sensibility of later masterpieces. In the final movement Chopin concentrates upon a new priority, parading a nationalist imagery by employing a lively mazurka. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the virtuoso flourishes of the final phase achieve a sense of triumph.

© Terry Barfoot

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827): Symphony No. 5

1. Allegro con brio
2. Andante con moto
3. Allegro
4. Allegro – presto

It was in the years immediately following the dawn of the new century that Beethoven came to realise that he was suffering from incurable deafness. In the moving document known as the Heiligenstadt Testament, he explained that it was only his commitment to his art which drew him back from suicide. It is no surprise, therefore, that in many of the works of these years, there is an undeniable sense of struggle. And of course, the most celebrated example of all is the Fifth Symphony, in the key of C minor, opus 67.

It was Beethoven’s habit to use sketchbooks to develop initial ideas until they could be transferred to firm projects. The earliest sketches for the Fifth Symphony date from around 1801, but it was some four or five years later that composition began in earnest. The first performance took place on 22 December 1808, at the same concert as the Sixth Symphony (Pastoral).

At its premiere, the Fifth Symphony made a strong impression, nor has its power diminished with the passing years. The opening four note rhythmic gesture is among the most memorable of all musical ideas, and is typical of Beethoven’s obsession with terse rhythmic mottos at this stage of his career. The rhythm dominates the entire first movement, though there is no lack of contrast because of the carefully organised structure. The lyrical second subject, for instance, is underpinned and soon overwhelmed by the rhythm, which gains in insistence and momentum as the movement proceeds. In the later stages Beethoven intensifies the effect. The scoring becomes fuller, the gestures more powerful, and there is the contrast of a poignant little cadenza for the oboe, before the vigorous drive to the close.

The second movement Andante is a set of variations, but there are two themes rather than one, allowing for greater freedom of expression. Each theme has an appealing simplicity. The elaborations are chiefly melodic, and when momentum is required it is usually achieved by the device of shortening the note values. The coda contains one of the most effective of all the transformations, and at the same time is the most beautiful music in the symphony.

Beethoven leaves the traditional dance form far behind in this third movement, which is frankly revolutionary in its role and nature. With unison cellos and basses the opening looms out of the darkness, and a mood of uncertainty seems to prevail as other instruments join. Suddenly Beethoven launches an alternative, a powerful horn theme which is soon endorsed by the full orchestra. But this too fades away, and the ghostly opening phrase is heard once again. Eventually cellos and basses set forth with the bustling fugato, which performs the function of central trio.

Instead of a conventional reprise of his unconventional material, Beethoven prefers to use a transition to link directly to the finale, starting from the quiet insistence of the timpani beat, and moving from darkness to light in an extraordinary crescendo. Thus the triumphant finale is launched, its impact the greater because of the addition of extra instruments which are heard for the first time: piccolo, contra-bassoon and three trombones. The movement generates a tremendous momentum, the themes vigorous and positive; and the negative forces of fate are surely swept aside. Yet there is room also for contrast, including the dramatic return of material from the third movement. This occurs shortly before the majestic principal theme resumes the music’s drive and purpose, and the exciting Presto coda affirms the C major triumph.

© Terry Barfoot