Archive for Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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Mozart and Bruckner at the National Concert Hall

Posted in Biographical, Music, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on December 6, 2025 by telescoper

I was worried I might have to miss last night’s concert by National Symphony Orchestra Ireland conducted by Anja Bihlmaier at the National Concert Hall. I bought the ticket some weeks ago and was looking forward to it, but I had been a bit unwell earlier in the week and didn’t want to go only to cough all the way through, possibly infecting others on the way. By Friday afternoon, however, I felt a lot better and took the decision to go for it. I’m very glad I did because I enjoyed the music enormously and didn’t cough or sneeze once!

There were only two items on the menu, another pairing of Mozart and Bruckner.

In the first half we heard the Piano Concerto No. 15 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart played by Boris Giltberg. This piece was written in 1784 when the composer had reached the ripe old age of 28. It’s an enjoyable and entertaining piece, not perhaps as profound as some of the later piano concertos (Mozart wrote 27 altogether), but well worth listening to. It’s also regarded as one of the most difficult to play, though Boris Giltberg made it look easy enough and was clearly enjoying himself while he played it as I’m sure did the composer when he performed it for the first time in Vienna. The three movements follow a standard fast-slow-fast pattern; the last being a sprightly Rondo, part of which features in the soundtrack of an episode of Inspector Morse: Who Killed Harry Field?

After generous applause, Giltberg returned to the stage to play a very solo encore piece. I didn’t recognize it, but someone I know who was there told me it was by Robert Schumann but didn’t know the name. When I got home I spent a good half-hour going through recordings until I finally identified it as the Arabeske in C Major. Anyway, it was a very nice way to send us into the wine break.

After the interval we had Anton Bruckner‘s monumental Symphony No. 9, which was unfinished at Bruckner’s death in 1896. Insufficient material was recovered after the composer’s death to enable a reconstruction of the missing 4th movement, so this work is generally performed in its incomplete state with only three movements. Even so, it’s an immense work in both length and ambition, lasting over an hour in performance and calling for a large orchestra.

The majestic first movement (marked Feierlich, Misterioso; solemn & mysterious) with its soaring themes and thunderous climaxes always puts me in mind of a mountaineering expedition, with wonderful vistas to experience but with danger lurking at every step. At times it’s rapturously beautiful, at times terrifying. It’s not actually about mountaineering, of course – Bruckner meant this symphony to be an expression of his religious faith, which, in the latter years of his life must have been pretty shaky if the music is anything to go by.

The second movement (Scherzo) is all juddering rhythms, jagged themes and harsh dissonances reminiscent (to me) of Shostakovich. It alternates between menacing, playful and cryptic; the frenzied animation of central Trio section is especially disconcerting.

The last movement  (Adagio)  begins restlessly, with an unaccompanied violin theme and then becomes more obviously religious in character in various passages of hymn-like quality, still punctuated by stark crescendi. In this movement Bruckner doffs his cap in the direction of Richard Wagner,  especially when the four Wagner tubas appear, and the movement reaches yet another climax with the brass bellowing out the initial violin theme. This dies away and the movement comes to an unresolved, poignant conclusion. With a long pause in silence as if to say “that’s all he wrote”, the concert came to an end.

Although I’ve loved this work for many years I’ve only ever heard it once before in concert.  The live performance definitely adds other dimensions you will miss on a recording and I enjoyed it enormously. For one thing you can see how hard the musicians – especially the cellos and basses – have to work. The sight of a large symphony orchestra working together to produce amazing sounds is quite something.

The National Symphony Orchestra Ireland may not be the Berlin Philharmonic but I was generally very impressed, there was split note in the brass section near the end, but this was a minor blemish. The performance was very warmly received by the audience. The NCH wasn’t full, but it was quite a good attendance.

That’s not quite the end of my concert-going for 2025. I’m off to Messiah next week. Well, you have to, don’t you? It’s Christmas..

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McTee, Mozart & Strauss at the National Concert Hall

Posted in Music with tags , , , , , , , , on September 13, 2025 by telescoper

As it was foretold, last night I went to the National Concert Hall in Dublin for the opening performance of the new season by the National Symphony Orchestra Ireland, this time under the baton of veteran conductor Leonard Slatkin.

The appetiser for this concert was Timepiece by American composer Cindy Mctee. It’s a short piece, quite new to me before last night, with a slowish introduction leading into a very energetic main body of the work. This piece brought out some fine playing by the orchestra, especially the percussion section. You can read more about this intriguing and enjoyable composition in the composer’s own words here. She was in the audience last night, and came up on stage at the end of the performance to receive the plaudits.

Next we had a very familiar piece: the Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, with David Fray at the piano. Mozart apparently composed this in a rush to meet the deadline of its first performance, but it doesn’t seem that way. The three movements (marked Allegro, Romanza and Allegro Assai) are very different in mood: the first (which is quite long) is brooding and rather Sturmy and Drangy, while the second is much gentler; both these movements feature memorable tunes; the third is much more pyrotechnical, with a very propulsive start and some virtuosic cadenzas. I think the last was played the best. David Fray is a curious performer to watch: he sat in the same sort of chair as the members of the orchestra – one with a back – rather than the usual stool, and had a very unusual posture. He slouched, in fact; he often turned round to look at the musicians behind him too. Anyway, he played very well indeed and for an encore he gave us some Bach (a solo piano arrangement of Air on the G String), which was lovely.

After the wine break we came back for a performance of Ein Heldenleben (“A Hero’s Life”) by Richard Strauss. I had never heard this piece in full before last night, and I have to say I didn’t like it much. There are some very nice passages in it, and there was some excellent playing by the brass and solo violin by NSOI leader Elaine Clark, but overall I found it a rather aimless reworking of some of Strauss’s other tone poems (some of which are actually very good). It’s also far too long for what it has to say.

The “Hero” of the title is of course meant to be the composer himself, which says something of the high regard in which Strauss held himself. At times the piece is tediously bombastic. The composer was 34 when he wrote this piece; about the same age that Mozart was when he died. I don’t think had he lived the latter would have written a self-indulgent piece like this crowing about his own achievements, which were far greater than those of the former.

Still, at least I can now say I’ve heard Ein Heldenleben…

P.S. For those of you wondering: no, the President of Ireland did not attend this concert.

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Mozart & Bruckner at the National Concert Hall

Posted in Music with tags , , , , , , on December 7, 2024 by telescoper

It was a dark and stormy night but I braved the inclement weather to travel to the National Concert Hall in Dublin for what will be my last concert of 2024. It look like being a nearly full house when I booked my ticket, but in the end there were quite a few empty seats perhaps because various groups decided not to make a journey owing to Storm Darragh. My own travels went without a hitch and in fact I even managed to walk from Connolly to the NCH before the performance and back to Pearse after it without getting rained on.

Anyway, there were two items on the menu: Violin Concerto No. 5 in A Major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, with soloist Stefan Jackiw, and the Symphony No. 7 in E Major by Anton Bruckner. The National Symphony Orchestra was conducted by Hans Graf.

Mozart wrote at least five violin concertos, and he was at most 20 when he wrote the last of the five that are known. During last night’s performance I was thinking a lot about all I had failed to achieve by the age of twenty! Influenced by his father Leopold, the violin was Mozart’s first instrument, but he later moved on and preferred to play keyboard instruments. Perhaps he wanted to escape from his father’s domination, which might explain why he didn’t write any more pieces for solo violin in the rest of his (short) life.

The 5th Violin Concerto is sometimes called “The Turkish” though there isn’t much of a Turkish influence in the music. Whatever the name, it is a very enjoyable piece in three movements, played quite beautifully last night by Stefan Jackiw and by the pared-down NSO. The soloist got a very warm ovation and responded with a solo encore in the form of a largo movement from a Bach violin sonata.

After the wine break we returned to find the stage much fuller with a large brass section and extra strings added to the smaller forces required for the Mozart. Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony is a huge and varied work lasting over an hour in performance. The radiant first movement, with its noble melody soaring over shimmering violin tremolos is very reminiscent of Wagner, as is much of the rest of the Symphony (especially in terms of the orchestration). Bruckner famously idolized Wagner and this composition is at least partly a tribute to his musical hero. It is said that Bruckner had a premonition of Wagner’s death in 1883 and the cymbal crash during the second (slow) movement symbolizes the moment that he found out that his premonition had come true. That whole movement (marked Sehr feierlich und sehr langsam; very solemn and very slow) is very moving: sombre though not excessively mournful. The third movement Scherzo is marked Sehr Schnell (very fast) but I found the tempo last night vigorous, but not epecially fast. I was expecting something a bit wilder. The last movement actually sounded to me more like Mahler than Wagner, with a resounding climax.

The Seventh is probably Bruckner’s best known and most performed Symphony. It was certainly a big hit for him when it was first performed in 1884. The composer was born in 1824 and last nigtht’s concert was billed as Bruckner 200. I think the 7th was a good choice to mark the occasion and the performance, with superb playing by the brass section (including the Wagner tuben), and the orchestra very well marshalled by Hans Graf, was a fitting tribute.

My next trip to the NCH won’t be until January, but I’m already looking forward to the Leningrad Symphony after the Christmas break!

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Tara Erraught at the National Concert Hall

Posted in Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 2, 2024 by telescoper

Last night’s concert at the National Concert Hall featured star mezzo-soprano Tara Erraught (who is from Mullingar, in County Westmeath, and is artist-in-residence at the National Concert Hall for this season. She was accompanied by the National Symphony Orchestra directed by Laurence Cummings. You can tell how much I like Tara Erraught by the fact I went to the concert despite there being a harpsichord involved in some of the pieces; fortunately it was pointed away from the audience so we couldn’t hear it.

Before the concert, I was trying to remember when I heard her sing before. A look at my back catalogue revealed that it was this concert at which she sang a Mahler song-cycle. Last night’s performance comprised very different material, all from the 18th Century. There were three vocal pieces: a cantata in four sections by a name quite new to me, Marianna Martines, also known as Marianne von Martinez; a concert aria by Joseph Haydn; and by far the most exciting piece, Mozart’s wonderful Exsultate Jubilate. Tara Erraught was in fine voice throughout but I was particularly impressed with the precision of her articulation of the ornamented phrases in the last work. The audience loved it too.

The concert was all about Tara Erraught, however. The first half included Symphony No. 25 by Joseph Haydn, a funny little work only 13 minutes long and lacking the usual slow movement that seemed to me like it wasn’t really finished. It’s certainly not among Haydn’s best symphonies, anyway. It was a bit unfair on Haydn to have Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 “Jupiter” on the same menu as that it is one of the great symphonies by any composer. It did however demonstrate very powerfully how much the symphonic form had evolved in the twenty-odd years separating the two compositions (which incidentally are both in the same key of C Major). The Jupiter symphony is not only brim full of ideas, but the themes are woven into a much richer fabric. I might add that it was very well played by the NSO in a performance that was forceful and energetic without being too bombastic.

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The Magic Flute at the Sydney Opera House

Posted in Opera with tags , , , , on February 29, 2024 by telescoper

I’m just back from my second night at the Sydney Opera House, at which I saw Opera Australia’s production  of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. What has been a very warm day turned into a very sultry evening, and it was nice to take my drink outside during the interval to admire the view:

I’ve lost track of how many different productions I have seen of this strange and wonderful masterpiece, and this was a distinctly Australian version. Technically it’s not an opera, but a singspiel: the recitative – the bit in between the arias – is spoken rather than sung. It’s really more like a musical comedy in that sense, and was originally intended to be performed in a kind of burlesque style.

The Magic Flute also has many points of contact with the pantomime tradition, including the character of the villainous Monostatos who, in this performance, was reminiscent of Rolf Harris. Papageno was a working class Australian, sporting a mullet, and carrying an Esky in place of the usual array of nets and birdcages. On her first entrance, the Queen of the Night put me in mind of Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard. Sarastro, with long hair and flowing robes, looked like the leader of some sort of New Age cult; his acolytes were dressed in everyday casual clothes. The three boys – referred to as “spirits” in this production – were actually two boys and a girl, but “spirit” is a gender-neutral term so that’s fine.

I won’t even attempt to explain the plot, if you can call it that, because it’s completely daft. It’s daft, though, in a way that much of life is daft, and I think that’s the secret of its enduring popularity. Mozart’s music carries you along and constantly seems to be telling you not to take it all too seriously. It seems to me that it must be hard to get the balance right between the comedy (which frequently border on the slapstick) and the serious. The worst thing to do is to make it too pompous. This production doesn’t fall into that trap, but in playing it virtually entirely for laughs I think it misses the depths that make a truly successful version. The ending – in which the rays of the Sun are supposed to dispel the darkness – involved a big reveal to a picnic with the chorus in beach wear and sunglasses. There’s a lot to be said for sunshine, and I found the idea mildly amusing, but there should be more to the end of this Opera than that. On the other hand, Pamina’s aria in Act II, when she is heartbroken because she thinks Tamino has abandoned her, was intensely moving, so it wasn’t all shallow.

The sets are simple but use clever devices to suggest the extraordinary scene changes required by the libretto, including pyramids, forests, waterfalls and flames. The ordeals by fire and water, for example, are depicted using reflective strip curtains, red for fire and blue for water. The dragon in Act I is conjured up by shadow puppets against a translucent curtain.

Papageno, played by an understudy whose name I didn’t catch, was the pick of the performers but overall the cast was not particularly strong vocally. David Parkin’s basso wasn’t nearly profundo enough for Sarastro and he struggled with the lowest notes. I’m not sure either why he also played The Speaker, who is a distinct role. Giuseppina Grech as the Queen of the Night looked fabulous and hit her high notes, but the elaborate coloratura passages were not well articulated.

This probably seems very negative than I intended. There is much to enjoy in this production. It’s very entertaining, and at times riotously funny. It was just a bit too superficial for my taste.

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Sisters, Lovers & Traitors: INO in Maynooth

Posted in Maynooth, Opera with tags , , , , , , , on May 4, 2023 by telescoper

I don’t often get the chance to attend a concert in Maynooth, but I did this evening when I went to the Aula Maxima on Maynooth University South Campus for a performance of arias and duets from Mozart operas by singers from Irish National Opera.

The artists involved were Anna Devin (Soprano), Sharon Carty (Mezzo), and Gianluca Margheri (Baritone) . All were excellent, but I particularly loved Italian Gianluca Margheri’s richly sonorous voice. Fine accompaniment was provided on the piano by Finghin Collins (who, incidentally, last featured on this blog in an item about a very different type of music).

INO are currently rehearsing their forthcoming production of Cosi fan tutte which provided the first four pieces; it features two sisters of course, Fiordiligi and Dorabella. These were followed by a selection from Le nozzle di Figaro, including the lovely duet Sull’aria. The final two pieces were from La clemenza di Tito, a much less familiar work, which was composed at roughly the same time as The Magic Flute and is arguably Mozart’s final opera.

The encore was a trio performance of Là ci darem la mano from Don Giovanni, usually a duet but in this case with the part of Zerlina shared between Anna Devin and Sharon Carty.

It was a very enjoyable programme, very well received by the audience, and an ideal break from a busy end-of-term schedule, especially on a rainy night like tonight. Now, I must remember to get tickets for Cosi fan tutte to give me a break from examination marking!

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Mozart, Ravel and Danielle de Niese

Posted in Biographical, Music with tags , , , , , , , , on February 4, 2023 by telescoper

After last week’s magnificent concert I couldn’t miss another chance to see and hear Danielle de Niese in at the National Concert Hall in Dublin, again with the National Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Jaime Martin. It was another fascinating (and very full) programme.

For last week’s concert, the National Concert Hall was only about two-thirds full but this time it was packed. I think the glowing reviews of La Voix Humaine contributed to that, as did the round of media interviews Danielle de Niese has done since then contributed to the full house.

Danielle de Niese seems to like singing 20th century French music and the concert opened with Shéhérazade by Maurice Ravel. This is a cycle of three songs which are settings of poems inspired by The Arabian Nights written by the pseudonymous poet Tristan Klingsor: Asie, La flûte enchantée, and L’Indifférent. Ravel was a real master of orchestration, and he creates a succession of exotic textures to complement the vocal lines. It’s not a long piece -altogether the three songs last about 15 minutes – but it covers a vast territory. There’s more than a nod to Debussy in this work too.

After that Danielle de Niese went off stage to change her frock, which was lime green for the Ravel, while the orchestra played the overture to the singspiel Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I’ve actually reviwed the whole Opera (was that really 12 years ago?) and wrote then (about the plot):

It’s admittedly a bit thin, even by the standards of comic opera but, right from the fabulous overture, the music is lovely and there’s a great deal of good-humoured fun, 

The overture is great fun to listen to, and obviously also to play. Jaime Martin was beaming and bouncing up and down on the podium during the performance.

And then Danielle de Niese returned (this time in a lurid red dress) to sing another piece by Mozart. Exsultate, Jubilate is a piece for solo voice and orchestra usually described as a motet but technically really a cantata. There are three movements, marked Allegro, Andante and Allegro. It’s obviously a work,with a religious theme, and the central Andante movement does sound like it is sacred music, but the outer Allegro movements are very operatic, with demanding coloratura passages, especially in the final Hallelujah. I don’t usually associate such vocal acrobatics with religious music, but it’s certainly a very exuberant and joyful piece. Astonishingly, Mozart was just 17 years old when he wrote it.

That piece by Mozart presented very different challenges to the soloist, Danielle de Niese but she showed herself to be a very accomplished performer in this too. With that her two-week residence in Dublin came to an end. She was presented with a huge bouquet of flowers and a standing ovation before we headed off to the bar for the interval.

After the wine break the National Symphony Orchestra was joined by the National Symphony Chorus for complete performance of the music to the ballet Daphnis et Chloé by Maurice Ravel. As is the case with Stravinsky’s Firebird, music from this ballet is often played in the form of a suite or, in the case of this ballet, two suites, but I have to say the whole is much greater than the sum of the suites and this work has become one of my favourite pieces to hear live. It’s a gloriously sensual and dramatic work, again brilliantly orchestrated, full of vibrant colours and lush textures, and even more wonderful when accompanied by the wordless singing of the massed ranks of the National Symphony Chorus. The score lasts a good hour, but that time seemed to flash by in this performance which was extremely well received by a very appreciative audience.

This was a very full programme and I had to leave during the applause to make sure I got back to Pearse station in time to catch the train back to Maynooth. I’m not as quick on my pins as I used to be. I arrived at Pearse with about five minutes to spare only to find that the train was five minutes late so I didn’t have rushed.

I have to congratulate whoever is doing the programming for these NSO concerts at the NCH. The last few have been excellent, and next week’s recipe of Ives, Beethoven and Sibelius looks great too!

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Il Mio Tesoro – John McCormack

Posted in History, Opera with tags , , , on December 19, 2021 by telescoper

The aria Il Mio Tesoro Intanto from Act II of Mozart’s great Opera Don Giovanni is widely regarded as a test piece for Operatic tenors because of its demanding mix of long flowing lines, big leaps and florid coloratura ornamentation. The other day I heard a performance by the great Irish tenor John McCormack which, despite being recorded over a hundred years ago (in 1916) completely blew me away. I thought I’d share it here.

John McCormack made over 800 records in his lifetime, the vast majority of them Irish songs and ballads that found a huge audience not only in Ireland but also in the Irish diaspora in the United States of America; this part of his career was extremely lucrative making him a millionaire. His first love was the Opera: a lyric tenor of the highest quality, his career overlapped with that of the great Enrico Caruso and the two became great friends after McCormack moved to the United States and became a regular at the Metropolitan Opera. It was Caruso who made the first ever million-selling record (Vesti La Giubba from I Pagliacci in 1902) and perhaps that’s what persuaded McCormack to embark on a recording career.

Before the 1920s gramophone recordings were entirely acoustic, made by a process exactly the reverse of a gramophone player. Musicians and singers would play into a horn at the sharp end of which was a needle that could leave an impression on the recording medium. In the early days the recording would be made on a wax cylinder, but this was soon replaced by plastic or acetate discs. It wasn’t possible to make recordings longer than a few minutes using this method.

Here’s an example of an early recording session showing what it was like. The chap with the moustache is Sir Edward Elgar:

Given this sort of arrangement it is no surprise that the sound of the Orchestra of the Met is muffled and distorted on the following recording. Almost certainly McCormack would have been standing right in front of the horn so his sizeable form would have acted as a kind of baffle. When I think of these old records it always seems a wonder that you can hear anything at all.

Despite the limitations of the recording technology the crystal clarity of McCormack’s voice and his superb control shine through. I listen to quite a lot of old jazz records made in a similar way so my ears are perhaps unusually forgiving but I think this is one of the greatest versions of this aria that I’ve ever heard – and I’ve heard quite a few. I hope you enjoy it too.

P.S. John McCormack was born in Athlone, which is about 100km due west of Maynooth.

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How Mozart Became a Bad Composer, by Glenn Gould

Posted in Music with tags , , on October 26, 2020 by telescoper

I’m not sure how many readers will agree with Glenn Gould’s analysis of Mozart’s piano compositions, especially his later ones, but I think it’s well worth watching and listening to, not least because the presenter is obviously relishing the opportunity to say what he really thinks in the full knowledge that in the process he is winding up a great many of his audience! It’s also interesting how he delivers his pieces to camera: it doesn’t look like he’s using an autocue but he’s a very precise and coherent speaker.

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“Like a rusty squeezebox… ” – Mozart’s Serenade No 10 for Winds III. Adagio

Posted in Music with tags , , , , on June 27, 2020 by telescoper

Although it has introduced many people to the music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, which is a very good thing, I have to admit that I didn’t really enjoy the film Amadeus. This is partly because not much of it is actually true and partly because, even treated as a piece of fiction, the two main protagonists are depicted far too crudely.

It is probably true that Mozart was quite a strange man as an adult but I attribute that largely to the fact that he was an infant prodigy which, together with having a very pushy and ambitious father, denied him a proper childhood. You see the same phenomenon in the modern era with child stars in Hollywood and the music industry.

The film is also very hard on Antonio Salieri who is made out to be a musical incompetent, which he certainly wasn’t. Salieri actually wrote a lot of very lovely music, though he obviously wasn’t Mozart.

One thing that the play/film does get right however is in Salieri’s description of the Adagio movement from Mozart’s Serenade No. 10 (K361) for wind instruments (and string bass):

On the page it looked nothing. The beginning simple, almost comic. Just a pulse, bassoons and basset horns, like a rusty squeezebox. Then suddenly; high above it, an oboe, a single note, hanging there unwavering, till a clarinet took over and sweetened it into a phrase of such delight! This was no composition by a performing monkey! This was a music I’d never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing. It seemed to me that I was hearing the very voice of God.

I stick to my opinion that Mozart wrote a lot of music that wasn’t really all that good, but I also think you should judge artists by their best work rather than their worst and Mozart wrote enough masterpieces any one of which would confirm him as a creative genius of the highest order. This piece is one of those masterpieces. The whole Serenade – seven movements, lasting almost an hour – is beautiful but this movement stands out.

The hallmark of a genius is often simplicity, isn’t it? That goes for science as well as the arts. I don’t really know what beauty really is but the essence of it often lies in simplicity too.

Now I have to make a confession and ask for help from readers. The confession is twofold: (a) I have never heard this piece in a live performance; and (b) I don’t possess a recording of it. I’d therefore like to ask my readers for recommendations as to the best version to buy on CD or download.

In the meantime here is a taster in the form of a performance by the wind musicians of the London Symphony Orchestra. Enjoy!

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