1900s

Gustav Mahler | Symphony #5, movement 4: “Adagietto”

“The Adagietto is undoubtedly the single best-known piece of Mahler’s music,” (MahlerFoundation.org). “Its popularity skyrocketed primarily as a result of its use as background music for Visconti’s film Death in Venice. There was some controversy, however, about what Mahler intended the adagietto to communicate. Villa Mengelberg, an intimate friend and colleague of Mahler and an early champion of his music, claimed that Alma Mahler had confided to him that Gustav sent a manuscript of the finished work to her as a love letter when they were courting. Certainly, the romantic nature of the music can support this contention … like an orchestral song without words … Mahler’s work orchestration is spare, employing only strings and harp to enhance the music’s lyricism and give it a serenade-like quality … “

The Mahler Foundation continues: “Inner harmonies are subtle and harmonic progressions are frequent for such a short movement … Mahler uses overlapping sustained tones in transition passages … The stream-like atmosphere begins with vague harmonies that lend a sense of weightlessness, and end with a long suspension of sustained chords that very slowly progressed to closure, creating a feeling of endless time.” It’s difficult to overstate the prominence of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony (1902) within the composer’s overall body of work. It’s “sometimes compared with Beethoven’s own of that number,” (The Guardian).

In addition to several transient key-of-the-moment passages, the overall key of F major shifts to C major at 7:47 before reverting at 8:13 to F for the movement’s dramatic ending.

for Marje

Gustav Mahler | Symphony #6 in A Minor, Movement 1

From the memoirs of Austro-Bohemian composer Gustav Mahler’s wife Alma (UtahSymphony.org), on the topic of the Sixth Symphony:

“No other work came so directly from [Mahler’s] heart as this one. We both cried . . . So deeply did we feel this music and what it foretold us. The Sixth is his most personal work and is also a prophetic one. In Kindertotenlieder and in the Sixth, he musically anticipated his life. He, too, received three blows from fate, and the last felled him. But at the time, he was cheerful and conscious of the greatness of his work; he was a tree in full leaf and flower.

In this passage from her 1940 memoirs, Alma Mahler suggests that autobiographical meaning informs the content of her husband’s Sixth Symphony, and on many levels, her words ring true. Gustav Mahler did, in fact, suffer “three blows from fate” in 1907: he felt it necessary to resign from his conducting post in Vienna, his eldest child Anna Maria succumbed to scarlet fever, and a doctor discovered the heart defect that would ultimately end the composer’s life. However, none of these incidents had transpired when Mahler penned Symphony no. 6 (in 1906). Alma’s memoirs, therefore, correctly interpret this symphony as something foreshadowing events yet to come.”

After the movement starts in a brooding A minor, 1:53 brings a gentle woodwind chorale, then another wide-ranging section with full orchestra. At 2:54, a surprisingly lighthearted but brief section in F major sounds almost like a passage from a composition for children. The simplicity of the textures doesn’t last, but the tonality does manage to endure for a quite some time before more transitions appear.

Cécile Chaminade | Concertino in D Major for Flute and Piano, Op. 107

“The pianist and composer Cécile Chaminade (1857-1944) was admired by the British Queen Victoria, for whom she often performed at The House of Windsor.” (I Care If You Listen). In 1913, France awarded her the Légion d’Honneur. But after her death, Chaminade was virtually forgotten. “George Bizet, a household friend at the Chaminade residence in Vésinet, a stylish suburb of Paris, lovingly called her ‘My little Mozart’. He advised her parents to send young Cécile to the Paris Conservatoire to study piano and composition. Papa, director of an insurance company and amateur violinist, refused permission, however: ‘Bourgeois girls are predestined to become wives and mothers.’”

Nonetheless, Chaminade gradually built a career in France as a composer and a performer. Eventually, she wrote 400 works and “not only succeeded in getting all her four hundred works performed, but also got them published – not a matter of course for a female composer at the time.” Despite her father’s reductionist attitude towards her career, after his death in 1887, Chaminade “had to support herself and her mother with her compositions and recitals, and this may be the reason why she concentrated on chamber music hereafter. The often-heard assessment that her music ‘doesn’t transcend the level of salon music’ is an affront. Yes, her writing is easily accessible and shies away from the drastic dissonances Wagner or Schönberg offer, but it is very well made and shows a remarkable control of classical counterpoint.”

Chaminade’s Concertino in D Major for Flute and Piano, Op. 107 (1902) is so prominent in the flute literature that among flutists it’s generally referred to simply as “The Chaminade.” Originally written for flute and piano, it was later also arranged for flute and orchestra. The piece was dedicated to the prominent French flutist and educator Paul Taffanel.

Beginning and ending in D Major as advertised, it cycles through quite a few other tonalities along the way, as this score-based video illustrates.