Symphony No. 1, "Night in the Tropics"

by Louis Moreau Gottschalk (1829-1869)

 

"Night in the Tropics" is, without a doubt, the first important symphony ever written by an American. The composer, New Orleans-born Louis Moreau Gottschalk, studied in Paris as a child piano prodigy and received Chopin’s blessing, but after a few years of concertizing in Europe, he returned to the Americas, and spent most of his career touring the Caribbean and South America as the greatest pianist in the New World. Thus, while he had benefited from a solid European training, his main inspirations as a composer came from the Western Hemisphere.  

 

The first of Gottschalk’s two symphonies was written on the islands of Cuba, Guadeloupe, and Martinique. The first of its two movements was performed separately in Guadeloupe; the complete symphony received its premiere in Havana at what the composer himself called a “monster concert,” with 650 players participating. It was a great success, but the work was soon forgotten and not revived until the second half of the 20th century, when several new editions with more practical reduced orchestrations were prepared.

 

The first movement, a lyrical Andante, is based on a single melody repeated in different orchestrations; after a brief agitated episode, the initial calm returns. The musical language here is mostly European: commentators call attention to the influence of Berlioz, whom Gottschalk met in Paris. The second movement, by contrast, is pure Caribbean, complete with the bamboula (a drum of African origin) and many other percussion instruments. It is a real fiesta, vigorous and fiery, the first-ever arrangement of a samba for symphony orchestra, with a lively melody dominated by the syncopated cinquillo rhythm common in Cuban music. Gottschalk did not neglect to insert a short fugato section to give the movement some academic respectability, but, as commentator James Reel noted, “the splashy music never skips a Latin beat.”

Violin Concerto, Op. 14

by Samuel Barber (1910-1981)

 

Samuel Barber was 29 years old when he completed his violin concerto. It was his first major commission, coming from Samuel Fels, soap manufacturer and a trustee at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia, Barber's alma mater. Fels intended the concerto for his adopted son, Iso Briselli, a former child prodigy and a student of the celebrated Carl Flesch. But things didn't quite work out between composer and violinist as planned. Briselli raised objections to the last movement of the concerto and asked Barber to make some major changes, which the composer refused to do. As a result, Briselli never played the work that was written for him.

 

In order to defend against charges that the concerto was impossible to play, a young student at Curtis, Herbert Baumel, was enlisted to help. According to eyewitnesses, Baumel demonstrated that the concerto was in fact playable—at least through part of the third movement, because his private playthrough abruptly broke off in the middle of the finale. Yet part of the challenge lies precisely in keeping the momentum going for the entire length of the movement. It was left to a later violinist to offer definitive proof that the work was not unplayable!

 

The solo violin begins the first movement with a tender melody, played over a gentle orchestral accompaniment. The atmosphere is idyllic, like a sunny summer afternoon in a beautiful garden. Then the clarinet introduces a second melody (somewhat faster-moving than the first but equally lyrical). A playful and animated, but brief violin passage completes the collection of themes: the three form a happy family whose bliss nothing and no one can perturb. The characteristic clarinet theme is taken over by the soloist only at the very end; this effect was saved for the movement's ethereal coda.

 

The idyll continues in the second-movement Andante. The solo oboe presents a long, and longing, melody, repeated by the cellos. The solo violin enters with more agitated material, leading to a cadenza, after which the violin takes over the opening melody. A brief fortissimo section flares up, before the movement ends on a calm and peaceful chord.

 

The first two movements were written in the summer of 1939, in Sils Maria in the beautiful Engadin Valley of Switzerland. Barber expected to finish the third movement in Europe as well, but when World War II broke out, he had to sail home immediately. He finished the concerto in the Poconos.

 

Maybe the differences in tone between the first two movements on one hand and the finale on the other had something to do with these circumstances. The idyll is over. Not only  do the virtuosic demands on the soloist increase dramatically, the musical language also becomes much more complex. There is a powerful climax near the end, after which Barber cranks up the tempo, making the final measures of the concerto even more frantic.

Africa

by William Grant Still (1895-1978)

 

William Grant Still, who made it his life’s work to give symphonic music a distinctively Black voice, felt a strong spiritual affinity for the African continent. He was an avid student of African folklore, and wrote many works on African themes. One of the most successful of these was his 1931 ballet Sahdji, which was set in Central Africa among the Azande tribe.

 

The early 1930s were also the years when Still composed his best-known work, the Afro-American Symphony, and its companion piece, the three-movement tone poem Africa. This work occupied Still for at least five years, from the earliest sketches to a pair of early performances (conducted by Georges Barrère in New York and Howard Hanson in Rochester, respectively), followed by further revisions. The work was also performed at a festival of American music in Germany (1931), as well as in Paris by the renowned Pasdeloup Orchestra. Yet Still withheld it from publication during his lifetime, possibly because of a dispute with the publisher. It was only relatively recently that the piece was rescued from oblivion.

The three movements of Africa are entitled “Land of Peace,” “Land of Romance,” and “Land of Superstition.” We have the following brief commentary by the composer:

An American Negro has formed a concept of the land of his ancestors based largely on its folklore, and influenced by his contact with American civilization. He beholds in his mind's eye not the Africa of reality, but an Africa mirrored in fancy, and radiantly ideal.

 

I — He views it first as a land of peace; peace that is partly pastoral in nature and partly spiritual.

 

II — It is to him also a land of fanciful and mysterious romance; romance tinged with ineffable sorrow.

 

III — Contact with American civilization has not enabled him to completely overcome his inherent superstitious nature. It is that heritage of his forebears binding him irrevocably to the past, and making it possible for him to form the most  concept of Africa.