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RECITAL 1998--PROGRAM NOTES
Cécile Chaminade: Concertino
Johann Sebastian Bach: Sonata in C major; version for flute alone
Charles Fussell: Sonata-Duo
- Intermission -
Robert Di Domenica: Sonata for Flute and Piano
Georg Philipp Telemann: Fantasy in B-flat major
Charles-Marie Widor: Suite
Until this day I have never performed the Chaminade Concertino. It is a very popular teaching piece, and so is cannon fodder for hordes of aspiring junior-high-school flute players. This had thoroughly spoiled the piece for me, until a few years ago I heard a magical performance of it, here in Jordan Hall, by Paula Robison--who convinced me there is good reason for its great popularity. Cécile Chaminade enjoyed an influential international career as a pianist, and might have left a more lasting mark as a composer if her aspirations in this field had not been vigorously squelched by her father, who thought composition an unseemly pursuit for a lady of means. Although the New Grove Dictionary complains that Chaminade's pieces "do not rise above drawing-room music," the Concertino is, of its genre, an excellent example.
In all but one of Bach's instrumental sonatas, whether for flute, violin, or viola da gamba, the solo instrument is silent from time to time, while the musical argument is continued by the keyboard alone. The one exception to this pattern is the C-major sonata, BWV 1033. The exact origin of this sonata is unclear. The noted American Bach scholar Robert L. Marshall believes that Bach wrote it as a work for solo flute, and further suggests that the accompaniment was added later by Bach's youthful son Carl Philip Emanuel as a composition assignment. Marshall's opinion is supported by the fact that the solo line, in contrast to Bach's usual practice, is continuous throughout the sonata, and stands perfectly well on its own.
The following program note was kindly provided by Charles Fussell: "Sonata-Duo was written for Doriot Anthony Dwyer, who gave its premiere in December 1994, at the Gardner Museum, Boston. Doriot requested a larger-scale piece than usually written for solo winds, and one which featured the piano as equal partner. I therefore have given both players lengthy cadenzas: flute in the middle of movement IV and piano at the beginning of III. The fourth movement is an elegy in memory of my friend Friedelind Wagner, granddaughter of Richard Wagner. It uses as its thematic base the shepherd's solo at the beginning of Tristan and Isolde, act III. The first movement includes two episodes of independent tempi. Near the beginning, the piano takes off with a brisk toccata at quarter note = ca. 100, while the flute continues the opening melody, quarter note = ca. 56. They join in a presto coda. The finale, after a slow, deep-breath introduction, plunges headlong through fast snippets of tonality, side glances to Strauss, all obliterated by rising chromatic scales and a concluding stretto."
Robert Di Domenica, although he does not use opus numbers, considers this Sonata his Opus 1. It is his first 12-tone piece, and its lyrical expressivity is a useful reminder that, whatever the technical means may be, the voice of the composer will make itself heard. The piece is in the traditional three movements, performed without pause; it shares with Fussell's Sonata-Duo the unusual feature of cadenzas for both instruments. Di Domenica, an accomplished flutist, dedicated the Sonata to his flute teacher, Harold Bennett. The piece was given its premiere by none other than Julius Baker--who during the performance was somewhat distracted by the dedicatee, who sat in the front row, peering at the score. My first encounter with the piece was with pianist Leona Di Domenica, the composer's late wife, who brought to the performance the unique warmth of her sonority, and a lifetime of experience and understanding. This performance is dedicated to her memory.
In the baroque era the distinction between performers and composers was not nearly as clear as it has since become. Telemann was typical of most composers in that he was also a professional performer--at a very high level, in fact--and most performers were far better versed in composition and improvisation than their twentieth-century counterparts. Accepting the invitation implicit in the title, I like to think of Telemann's Fantasias as written-down improvisations by a very quick-witted composer/flutist, able to imply two-part counterpoint (not so far-fetched, when we recall that Bach could improvise at the keyboard in strict four-part counterpoint), and with a variety of surprises in store for the attentive listener.
Widor's career as performer, composer and teacher was centered on the organ. His father and grandfather were organ builders, his first appointment as organist came at the age of 11, and in 1890 he succeeded Franck as professor of organ at the Paris Conservatoire. The French organ tradition keeps alive to this day, at a high level, the art of improvisation. How one wishes that the technology of sound recording had been available when Widor and Gabriel Fauré had their renowned improvisation competitions during the 1870s! Besides a large body of works for the organ, Widor wrote orchestral, vocal, stage, piano, and chamber works. His Suite Op. 34 is a rarity in the flute repertoire: a full-length romantic work of high quality.
--Fenwick Smith
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