"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross."
-- Sinclair Lewis
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday Classics: "Brandenburg"s for the holidays, Part 1
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The Freiburg Baroque Orchestra gives a now-fashionably lickety-split but still quite nice performance of the final movement (Menuetto and Polacca) of Bach's First Brandenburg Concerto. Listen particularly for the second Trio -- not the first Trio, of the Menuetto, written for, literally, a trio of two oboes and bassoon, at 1:12, but the second Trio, of the Polacca (which begins at 3:14), written for a "trio" of two horns plus a trio of oboes, at 5:17.
by Ken
I expect you're thinking, haven't we had enough music this week with our Christmas specials, Handel's Messiah for Christmas Eve and Berlioz's L'Enfance du Christ for Christmas Day? Obviously, you already have my answer.
One pleasant tradition that's developed around the holidays is performing the entire set of Bach's six Brandenburg Concertos. In a sense it's easier now that we think of the concertos as chamber rather than orchestral music, but it really tests the mettle of the presenting chamber music group. The six concertos are so different, and scored for such different instrumental combinations, that just figuring out who's to play what and then managing the logistics of having the correct players available, first for rehearsal (today's musicians racing from job to job to keep their heads above water can hardly be asked to sit through rehearsals in which they have nothing to do, but at the same time you can't rehearse a concerto if you don't have all the necessary performers on hand) and then for onstage at the right time for the right pieces -- the logistics are exhaustive and exhausting, and for obvious reasons it's not easy to get all six pieces prepared to the degree of thoroughness that most of those musicians might wish.
Nevertheless, performing the complete set of Brandenburgs can be an exhilarating experience for both performers and audiences, and the holidays just seem like a natural time to undertake it. I thought that we might join in this particular celebration, only we're not going to do it in all-in-one fashion. We'll get through the first three concertos today, and then the remaining three (probably) next week.
If I were setting out to "sell" Bach, or even to try to sketch the Bach who most matters to me, I would start with the secular music -- with, say, the Brandenburg Concertos and the solo-cello suites. But the cantatas may be the place where one comes closest to encountering the soul of Bach.
WE COME AT LAST TO THE BRANDENBURGS
Not quite for the first time, though. Shortly after, I wrote a post built about extraordinary surprises composers may bury in larger works, offering as examples the totally unexpected and totally wonderful methodically galloping rhythmic figure that breaks out suddenly in the cello then works its way up the string-quartet membership in the theme-and-variations slow movement of Mozart's String Quartet No. 18, and the tiny bit -- a mere minute in our performance -- known innocently enough as "Trio II" in the final movement of Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 1.
Here's the bit we're talking about, in the best performance I've heard of it, or at any rate the one that really made me sit up and take notice. It still sounds awfully good to me. (Note: You can click to enlarge the score page, but you won't be able to hear the music at the same time. Sorry!)
CBC Vancouver Orchestra, Mario Bernardi, cond. CBC Records, recorded 1983 [I'm sorry not to be able to identify the soloists of this performance, but my copy of the CD booklet has gone missing!]
Sunday Classics: The fraught world of kiddie classics -- Prokofiev's "Peter," Saint-Saëns' "Carnival," Britten's "Young Person's Guide"
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It's audio only, but a treat: Boris Karloff narrates the first half of Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf, with Mario Rossi conducting the Vienna State Opera Orchestra. (The poster is confused about the recording's provenance. Since it's audibly stereophonic, it's unlikely that it was recorded in the '40s, or "appeared originally as a 78 rpm single from Mercury's 'Childcraft' label." Vanguard made this recording in May 1957.) The second half of the performance is here.
by Ken
"Patronizing" is as as close as I can get to the word I'm groping for here. I'm wishing adults didn't have such a kitschy, retarded idea of music they think will appeal to kids -- and really, I'm thinking of bygone times when large numbers of adults actually knew something about the music and cared enough to attempt to inflict it on their offspring.
I think I mentioned here once that, Leonard Bernstein explained to his audience in his Young People's Concert devoted to Mahler that friends of his were horrified to learn than he planned to include a chunk of the extremely serious, even dour, seemingly ultra-kid-unfriendly Ninth Symphony. Lenny had insisted the kids would be fine with it, and as the video record shows, they loved it.
As I mentioned in last night's preview, I hated Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretel, and had to claw my way to what now seems to me an extravagantly beautiful opera. Luckily, I didn't often have "kiddie" music thrust at me, and instead was left mostly to find my own way to the music I came to love.
Today, as I suggested, we're focusing on the three great works that set out to introduce listeners to the instruments of the orchestra: Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf, Saint-Saëns' Carnival of the Animals, and Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra. When they're inflicted on young people, it's not the music itself that bothers me, of course, because this is all utterly extraordinary music, but -- how do I say this? -- the unthinkingly closed-minded, talk-down-ish way it's presented. "Patronizing" is as close as I can get in a single word.
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PROKOFIEV: Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67
We're going to take our time with Peter, and actually listen to it both section-by-section with narration and then in one fell swoop, or rather three fell swoops, twice with narration (in English and Spanish; the narration, of course, has been translated into the language of every place where the piece has been performed) and then without narration. I think this illustrates a built-in problem with this music: The narration can quickly become deeply annoying, but the music, while quite lovely, really doesn't have any particular sense without it.
1. Introduction
2. Early One Morning (The Meadow)
3. Look Out!
4. Peter's Theme; Grandfather's Theme
5. The Wolf Appears
6. The Balance of Nature
7. Peter's Plan
8. The Hunters Come Out of the Woods
9. The Triumphant Procession
As promised, here's the whole thing put together, in two versions, musically identical but with the late Jose Ferrer narrating first in English and then in Spanish. Ferrer, of course, had one of the most remarkable speaking voices in the annals of the English language -- and I'm going to go out on a limb and guess in Spanish as well. (I think you'll notice an intriguing personality shift as he moves between languages.)
PROKOFIEV: Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67 (in English) Jose Ferrer, narrator; Vienna State Opera Orchestra, Sir Eugene Goossens, cond. Kapp/MCA, recorded 1959
PROKOFIEV: Pedro y el Lobo, Op. 67 (en español) Jose Ferrer, narrator; Vienna State Opera Orchestra, Sir Eugene Goossens, cond. Kapp/MCA, recorded 1959
Now, again as promised, here's the music without the narration, from Sony's "Royal Edition." The original recording was made to be filled out with Maestro Bernstein's own narration, and in its original form the old LP coupling with Lenny's Carnival of the Animalscan still be had on CD.
PROKOFIEV: Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67: Suite New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded Feb. 16, 1960
It seems as if most everyone who can talk has narrated a recording of Peter and the Wolf. Among the versions you can download are one from Everest narrated by Captain Kangaroo, with Leopold Stokowski conducting the New York Stadium Symphony, and, yes, the Vanguard one narrated by Boris Karloff we sampled above, with Mario Rossi conducting the Vienna State Opera Orchestra.
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SAINT-SAËNS: Carnival of the Animals
In the LP era Peter and the Wolf and Carnival of the Animals were frequent (I'm tempted to say "almost invariable") disc-mates, but in fact they're really not aimed at the same audience. Amazon comments are unusually interesting here -- judging from the adult accounts, their kids go for Peter but are kind of stumped by Carnival.
The latter is, in its childlike way, a pretty sophisticated piece with its often surprising and sardonic musical characterizations and its network of musical quotations. (I expect you recognized the "Dance of the Sylphs" from Berlioz' Damnation of Faust last night when we heard "The Elephant.") In addition, in the English-speaking world, the Ogden Nash verses often used for narration (written for the André Kostelanetz recording narrated by Noël Coward), for all their deft drollerie, don't seem to me especially kid-friendly at all. Here, for example, are Nash's "Introduction" and the poems for the two movements we heard last night, "The Elephant" and "The Swan."
Introduction
Camille Saint-Saëns Was wracked with pains, When people addressed him As Saint-"Sains."
He held the human race to blame, Because it could not pronounce his name. So he turned with metronome and fife, To glorify other kinds of life.
Be quiet, please -- for here begins His salute to feathers, fur, and fins.
No. 5, The Elephant
Elephants are useful friends, Equipped with handles at both ends. They have a wrinkled moth-proof hide. Their teeth are upside down, outside.
If you think the elephant preposterous, You’ve probably never seen a rhinosterous.
Gary Karr, double bass; Marielle Labèque, piano. BMG, recorded December 1996
No. 13, The Swan
The swan can swim while sitting down. For pure conceit he takes the crown. He looks in the mirror over and ove-a, And claims to have never heard of Pavlova.
[Note: Now just how many kids do you suppose are going to get a reference to Pavlova? -- Ed.]
Gary Karr, double bass; Ruth and Naomi Segal, pianos; (New York Philharmonic,) Leonard Bernstein, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded Apr. 9, 1962 Misha Maisky, cello; Katia and Marielle Labèque, pianos. Teldec, recorded December 1996 Pablo Casals, cello; Charles A. Baker, piano. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded Jan. 24, 1915
On CD, Peter and Carnival are often joined by the next-best-known "young person's guide to the orchestra," Brittten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra, more formally known as the Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Purcell. As far as I can tell, I don't have a single narrated version of either the Saint-Saëns or the Britten on CD. So here they are in purely orchestral form. Actually, in the case of Saint-Saëns'Carnival, we hear it once in orchestral form and then in chamber form, with the string parts played one player to a part. (There is, by the way, a lovely score downloadable free in PDF form.)
SAINT-SAËNS: Carnival of the Animals
1. Introduction and Royal March of the Lion (two pianos, strings [two violins, viola, cello, bass]) Andante maestoso; Allegro non troppo; Piu allegro, 4/4 2. Hens and Roosters (clarinet, two pianos, two violins, viola) Allegro moderato, 4/4 3. Wild asses (Swift animals) (two pianos) Presto furioso, 4/4 4. Tortoises (1st piano, strings) Andante maestoso, 4/4 5. The Elephant (2nd piano, double bass) Allegretto pomposo, 3/8 6. Kangaroos (two pianos) Moderato, 4/4-3/4 7. Aquarium (flute, harmonica, two pianos, strings except bass [muted]) Andantino, 4/4 8. Personages with long ears (two violins) Tempo ad lib., 3/4 9. The Cuckoo in the depth of the woods (clarinet, two pianos [with una corda pedal]) Andante, 3/4 10. Aviary (flute, two pianos, strings) Moderato grazioso, 3/4 11. Pianists (two pianos with strings) Allegro moderato [editors' note: "The players should imitate the playing of a beginner and his awkwardness"], 4/4 12. Fossils (clarinet, xylophone, two pianos, strings) Allegro ridicolo, 2/2 13. The Swan (cello, two pianos) Andantino grazioso, 6/4 14. Finale (flute, clarinet, harmonica, xylophone, two pianos, strings) Molto allegro, 4/4
Ruth and Naomi Segal, pianos; New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded Apr. 9, 1962 Benoît Fromanger, flute; Richard Stoltzman, clarinet; Lily Maisky and Misha Mullov, pianos (in "Pianists"); Evelyn Glennie, percussion; Katia and Marielle Labèque, pianos; Viktoria Mullova and Alexej Nagovitsyn, violins; Yuri Bashmet, viola; Misha Maisky, cello; Gary Karr, double bass. BMG, recorded December 1996
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BRITTEN: Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra (Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Purcell), Op. 34
Not-quqite-yet-sir Malcolm Sargent narrated and conducted the London Symphony in Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra in the film Instruments of the Orchestra. Sargent conducted the Liverpool Philharmonic in the work's concert (and broadcast) premiere on Oct. 14, 1946. We hear the recording they made below.
The Young Person's Guide was written in 1945-46 (right after the opera Peter Grimes) on commission of the British Ministry of Education for a film called Instruments of the Orchestra, with narration written by writer-director Eric Crozier, who had staged the Sadler's Wells premiere of Peter Grimes and would write the libretto for Britten's Albert Herring and cowrite (with with E. M. Forster) that for Billy Budd. As noted above, the premiere was given in Liverpool on Oct. 15, 1946, by Malcolm Sargent (1946 was the year before he was knighted) and the Liverpool Philharmonic, who then made the work's premiere recording, which we hear below.
You can find a breakdown of the music here. The general plan of the variations could hardly be simpler or more straightforward, though the actual music is hardly either. After sequentially spotlighting the choirs of the orchestra in the opening statement of the theme, Britten works his way through them, in each case working from the top down:
* woodwinds (Variations A through D -- piccolo and flute [Presto], oboes [Lento], clarinets [Moderato], and bassoons [Allegro alla marcia]);
* strings (E through H -- violins [Brillante: alla polacca], violas [Meno mosso], cellos [no tempo marking], and basses [Cominciando lento ma poco a poco accel. al Allegro, "Beginning Lento but little by little accelerating to Allegro"]);
* harp (I [Maestoso]);
* brasses (J through L -- horns [L'istesso tempo], trumpets [Vivace], and trombones and tuba [Allegro pomposo]); and finally --
* percussion (M [Moderato] -- timpani, bass drum and cymbals, tambourine and triangle, snare drum and wood block, xylophone, castanets and gong, whip, all percussion) --
at which point he's ready to unleash the fugue.
Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, Malcolm Sargent, cond. EMI/Membran, recorded 1946 BBC Symphony Orchestra, Andrew Davis, cond. Teldec, recorded October 1990
Sunday Classics preview: "It is a curious story" -- another quick peek at Britten's sound world
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Tenor Edmundas Seilius sings the Prologue to Britten's ghost opera The Turn of the Screw (with pianist Joyce Fieldsend) in what we're told is the dress rehearsal at the Opéra National du Rhin. I don't suppose any director's going to let the Narrator just stand in front of the curtain and tell what he has to tell about this "curious story," but this performance at least starts surprisingly well. (Eventually it kind of falls apart and then goes completely nuts, but never mind.)
by Ken
Oh man, nothing comes easy. The idea, en route from last night's revisiting of the Peter Grimes Sea Interludes to tomorrow's new post, was to sample another dimension of Britten's "sound world" via a quick listen to the startling little Prologue crafted by the composer and librettist Myfanwy Piper (later collaborators on Owen Wingrave and Death in Venice) for their "chamber opera" adaptation -- it's scored for an "orchestra" of 14 players -- of Henry James's ghost tale The Turn of the Screw.
It's an altogether unexpected and yet consciousness-grabbing three-minute bit of narration for tenor (often, but not necessarily, the singer who will portray the malevolent ghost of Peter Quint in the opera) with mostly just piano accompaniment. In this short span, it sets not just the plot but the tone and atmosphere of the piece, and at the Governess's "I will" introduces us to the musical theme that will be varied to form the instrumental interludes that run through the opera.
At any rate, the Prologue ought to do these things. All of our performances have aspects that drive me crazy, but each also captures some of the scene's basic qualities. (For something completely different, worth at least a good laugh -- the alternative being a good cry -- you might take a look at the opening segment of the 1982 film that uses the mediocre Colin David/Philips recording as soundtrack. It prefaces the Prologue with a six-minute music-free filmlet "inspired" by later events, which is mostly very soft-core but heavily pedophiliac porn.
The thing to remember -- and I wish performers were encouraged to -- is that there is something about this old story, which has fallen into the Narrator's possession, that he finds "curious" enough so to feel compelled to share it. It's a shame directors (and conductors) don't give their poor tenor a little help with this.
The Narrator appears in front of a drop curtain.
It is a curious story. I have it written in faded ink -- a woman's hand, governess to two children -- long ago.
Untried, innocent, she had gone first to see their guardian in London; a young man, bold, offhand, and gay, the chlldren's only relative.
The children were in the country with an old housekeeper. There had been a governess, but she had gone. The boy, of course, we at school, but there was the girl, and the holidays, now begun.
This then would be her task.
But there was one condition: he was so much engaged: affairs, travel, friends, visits, always something, no time at all for the poor little things. She was to do everything, be responsible for everything, not to worry him at all -- no, not to write, but to be silent, and do her best.
She was full of doubts.
But she was carried away: that he, so gallant and handsome, so deep in the busy world, should need her help.
At last --
[In all three performances below we have a track change here which seems bizarre if you're going just by the text. In fact, it's quite understandable. The CD editors have inserted a cue here because as the Narrator reports the Governess's declaration "I will," the piano sounds the beginning of the theme, gradually filled out by the rest of the chamber ensemble, from which, as noted above, the composer will create the variations that make up the instrumental interludes that stretch all through the opera.] --
"I will," she said.
The lights fade and the drop curtain rises in darkness.
In this first recording, the second track gives us that first statement of "the theme" but then takes us just into the opening of Act I.
Ian Bostridge, tenor (Narrator [and Peter Quint]) Mahler Chamber Orchestra (Tim Horton, piano) Daniel Harding, cond. Virgin Classics (EMI), recorded Jan. 17-19, 2002
In our remaining performances, that second track continues on into Act I, as we meet the Governess near the end of her coach journey to Bly to take up her new position.
Philip Langridge, tenor (Narrator [and Quint]) Felicity Lott, soprano (the Governess) Aldeburgh Festival Ensemble (David Owen Norris, piano) Steuart Bedford, cond. Collins, recorded October 1993
Finally, we come to the recording conducted by the composer himself early in 1955 with the English Opera Group, for which the piece was written, just months after its September 1954 Venice premiere. (Unless I've missed something, this was the first commercial recording of a full-length Britten opera.) It seems significant that Britten never remade this mono Turn of the Screw.
Peter Pears, tenor (Narrator [and Peter Quint]) Jennifer Vyvyan, soprano (the Governess)
English Opera Group
(Martin Isepp, piano) Benjamin Britten, cond. Decca, recorded January 1955
Sunday Classics preview: Our second peek at Britten begins with the Peter Grimes Sea Interludes and Passacaglia
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Dawn on the North Sea coast of Suffolk at Aldeburgh, where
Britten lived nearly the last three decades of his life
by Ken
Back when we took our original Sneak peek into the sound world of Benjamin Britten, when I was dependent on YouTube scavengings for musical examples, I was relieved to have Leonard Bernstein's rather tired DG recording of the mesmerizing "Dawn" interlude from Peter Grimes, like all the Sea Interludes and the Passacaglia, lifted straight out of the opera. That performance, of undeniable historical and sentimental value, is from LB's final concert, with his beloved Boston Symphony (at Tanglewood, Aug. 19, 1990), and I complained that it "seems to me to seriously underplay the whole piece -- and underplaying is something Lenny was rarely accused of."
"Still," I allowed, "the performance is good enough to allow the listener access to the interplay of unexpected tone colors, harmonies, and rhythms with which Britten conjures this musical image of dawn in a fishing village on his beloved Suffolk coast. Like all the Sea Interludes, this is music that's meant to play straight into the imagination, and I've found that even after long acquaintance it becomes more haunting with each hearing."
I noted back then that Lenny "had made a better recording of the Grimes interludes with the New York Philharmonic," and as we prepare to revisit Britten on Sunday, with a bit more control over the music, I thought the first thing we might do would be to hear that 1973 recording of all four Sea Interludes and the Passacaglia from Peter Grimes.
BRITTEN: Peter Grimes: Four Sea Interludes, Op. 33a, and Passacaglia, Op. 33b
New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded March 8, 1973
Op. 33a, No. 1: Dawn Lento e tranquillo
Op. 33a, No. 2: Sunday Morning Allegro spiritoso
Op. 33a, No. 3: Moonlight Andante commodo e rubato
Op. 33a, No. 4: Storm Presto con fuoco -- Molto animato -- Largamente -- Tempo I
[12/26/2010] "Brandenburg"s for the holidays, Part 1 (continued)
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The Freiburgers give a highly adrenalized performance of the dazzling opening movement of the Second Brandenburg Concerto.
Before we proceed to the whole of the First Brandenburg, I thought we'd pause to listen one more time to the Menuet and Polacca. It's this last movement, by the way, that sets the First Concerto apart from the rest of this set of six Concerts avec plusieurs instruments (Concertos with several instruments) that Bach dedicated and sent to the Margrave of Brandenburg, clearly with the thought of showing off what he could do. (You never knew what a prosperous man of evident good musical taste might wish to make of to make of "what Bach could do." As it is, just by dedicating these concertos to the Margrave, Bach immortalized him.) As the opening work in the set, No. 1 was "supersized" for "wow" effect with this (extra) fourth movement.
One thing to remember in listening to this movement is the Baroque era habit of repeating individual sections and for building structures in A-B-A fashion, which is to say establishing a musical statement, providing a contrasting section, and repeating the original section. This is how a "normal" minuet-and-trio was structured: minuet, trio, repeat of minuet (with all the individual sections repeated). Here Bach expands the idea by working in the polacca with its trio, meanwhile continuing to repeat the minuet section.
In this performance, conducted by the fine violinist Josef Suk (who plays the violin solos in the earlier movements, the ones we're not hearing [ah, breaking development: check the "bonus" section below!]), Trio II -- taken at a deliciously, tantalizingly held-back pace -- comes at 6:05.
Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 in F, BWV 1046: iv. Menuetto (with Trio I); Polacca (with Trio II)
Ivan Séquardt, Liběna Séquardtová, and Jiří Vodňanský, oboes; Rudolf Beránek and Zdeněk Pok, horns; Suk Chamber Orchestra, Josef Suk, cond. Vanguard, recorded November 1989
NOW WITH A MINIMUM OF FURTHER ADO LET'S PROCEED TO OUR HALF-BRANDENBURG SET
Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 in F, BWV 1046
For modern ears, trained to take their Baroque music quaintified into wisps of trivial nothingness, the Casals Brandenburgs probably sound stodgy and heavy-handed. But then, those modern tastes have no use for musical breadth and depth, wisdom and joy and reflection.
i. Allegro ii. Adagio; iii. Allegro iv. Menuetto (with Trio I); Polacca (with Trio II)
John Mack, Ronald Richards, and Peter Christ, oboes; Myron Bloom and Robert Johnson, horns; Donald MacCourt, bassoon; Alexander Schneider, violin; Rudolf Serkin, piano; Marlboro Festival Orchestra, Pablo Casals, cond. Columbia/CBS/Sony, recorded 1964
Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 in F, BWV 1047
If we had popularity ratings for the Brandenburgs, I expect that the Fifth would be a clear winner, and the Second would be runner-up. It's especially known for the heady high-trumpet part. There's so much sensational music packed in that I'm always startled to be reminded how short the piece actually is.
The Britten-conducted set of Brandenburgs, very different from the Casals, also seems to me one of the glories of recording history.
i. Allegro ii. Andante iii. Allegro assai
Richard Adeney, flute; Peter Graeme, oboe; David Mason, trumpet; Emanuel Hurwitz, violin; English Chamber Orchestra, Benjamin Britten, cond. Decca, recorded in The Maltings, Snape, December 1968
Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G, BWV 1048
One of life's great mysteries is why the Third Brandenburg has no middle movement, not even in the autograph manuscript, which has just two chords, marked "Adagio." All manner of theories have been advanced, and performance solutions attempted (often involving interpolation of a seemingly compatible Bach movement). It's possible that the composer intended some sort of keyboard improvisation here, or that he simply didn't intend there to be a "middle" movement.
I mentioned in connection with our hearing of Vivaldi that was crazy for Italian music generally (and Vivaldi in particular). I thought we might hear an Italian performance of this strings-only concerto -- written with three violin, viola, and cello parts in the first movement, but only violins and violas in the last, where the cellos are assigned to churn along with the continuo part.
i. Allegro ii. Adagio (two embellished chords); iii.Allegro
I Musici. Philips, recorded c1964
BONUS: A MORE "AUTHENTIC" FIRST BRANDENBURG
I don't think there's a "right" answer to the question of "authenticity" in Baroque performance. I do feel pretty strongly, though, that the notion that "more authentic," in terms of instruments and performance practices, automatically means "musically superior" is far more ridiculously untrue than any of its proponents imagine -- but then, these are people who tend not to be start with a great deal of imagination. That said, I think it's certainly valuable, especially in music of this inexhaustible richness, to hear a variety of approaches.
Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 in F, BWV 1046
i. Allegro ii. Adagio iii. Allegro iv. Menuetto (with Trio I); Polacca (with Trio II)
Boston Baroque, Martin Pearlman, dir. Telarc, recorded Jan. 3-5, 1994
WELL, MAYBE ONE LAST FIRST BRANDENBURG
Okay, well, maybe one more performance of the First Brandenburg. I tantalized you above by pointing out that conductor Josef Suk plays the violin solos in the earlier movements, the ones we didn't hear, so I thought it would be only fair to let you hear the whole concerto.
Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 in F, BWV 1046
i. Allegro; ii. Adagio; iii. Allegro; iv. Menuetto (with Trio I); Polacca (with Trio II)
Ivan Séquardt, Liběna Séquardtová, and Jiří Vodňanský, oboes; Rudolf Beránek and Zdeněk Pok, horns; Suk Chamber Orchestra, Josef Suk, violin and cond. Vanguard, recorded November 1989
NEXT WEEK (PROBABLY) IN SUNDAY CLASSICS
We'll get there eventually, if not next week. Obviously we need to cover the remaining three Brandenburg Concertos, and I'm thinking that at that time perhaps it would be interesting to dip into the world of still-older-style Bach performance.
