Sir Alexander Campbell MacKenzie (1847-1935), Benedictus, Op. 37/3
Scottish composer Sir Alexander MacKenzie, son of an eminent Edinburgh violinist and conductor, studied in Sondershausen, Germany, and later at the Royal Academy of Music in London. After a period of teaching, composing and conducting in Edinburgh, MacKenzie took the advice of Hans von Bülow and settled in Florence for 11 years where he concentrated on composition. In 1888 he was appointed Director of his Alma Mater, the Royal Academy of Music, where he remained until 1924.
MacKenzie wrote for the stage, including five operas and incidental music to plays; oratorios; concertos and other works for violin and orchestra; a considerable amount of orchestral music; and many songs and violin pieces. Taking into account that through most of his life, excepting the 11 years he spent in Florence, he was burdened with teaching and administrative duties the amount and quality of his creative work is considerable.
That the Benedictus we are hearing tonight was an extremely popular work when first composed is not surprising. With ravishing melodies and lush harmonies it exemplifies Mackenzie’s romantic outlook and creative ethos and caught the popular imagination and outlook of the times. As a beautiful melody never goes out of style, sit back, relax, and let the gorgeous sounds of this charming work wash over you.
John McCabe (1939- ), Concerto for Chamber Orchestra
This work was written in 1962 for the Chamber Orchestra of the Royal Manchester College of Music, where I was a student at the time, and its first performance was conducted by David Jordan in that year. In 1968, James Stobart and the New Cantata Orchestra gave the première of a revised version in London. It is a fairly short, uncomplicated piece in which all the thematic material is derived either from the opening phrase, stated boldly by most of the orchestra, or the quieter phrase answering it. The different sections develop these ideas in contrasted moods and at diverse tempi, and have the character almost of separate movements, though the work is played without a break.
The title Concerto was used despite the fairly light feeling of the music, to place the emphasis on the use of solo instruments, which, though not a rigorously applied principle throughout the work, was one of the main impulses in writing it. © Copyright 1999 by John McCabe
Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893), Variations on a Rococo Theme, Op. 33
Tchaikovsky composed the Variations on a Rococo Theme between December 1876 and March 1877, immediately following a composition that is its diametric opposite in almost every imaginable way- Francesca da Rimini, based on the Fifth Canto from Dante’s Inferno. Where the Rococo Variations are light-filled and airy, Francesca breathes the sulfuric, dark, tragic air of Hades. Musically, Francesca follows a visit to Bayreuth and has Lisztian and Wagnerian tendencies, while the Rococo Variations are an homage to Mozart and the classical age. Interestingly enough, this was a very difficult period in Tchaikovsky’s life and an outside observer would have expected another composition akin to Francesca to emerge as opposed to the airy lightness of the Rococo Variations. At the time, Tchaikovsky faced numerous artistic setbacks- his opera Vakula the Smith had not been successful; only discouraging reports had emerged from European performances of the overture-fantasy Romeo and Juliet; and lack of funds had forced him to abandon plans for a concert of his music in Paris. Perhaps it was the perceived lack of artistic success that caused such an artistic “about face?“ Whatever the case, the Rococo Variations represented an entirely new artistic path for the composer.
Written for Tchaikovsky’s colleague at the Moscow Conservatory, German cellist Wilhelm Fitzenhagen, the composition is exactly what the title indicates- a set of variations on a theme. The theme, however, is not “Rococo” in origin. It is an original theme by Tchaikovsky in imitation of the classical, 18th Century ideal. Classical also is the size of the orchestra, with only several 19th Century additions in the woodwind section. Tchaikovsky respected Mozart highly, and his influence is strongly felt. There is no doubt, however, that this is a work by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky- his imprint and musical personality are indelibly felt on every page, in every phrase.
20th Century scholarship has found that Fitzenhagen took considerable liberties in “his” piece, eliminating one variation, changing the order of the remaining variations and elaborating the solo part to make it more of a virtuoso showpiece and ultimately more of a “crowd pleaser.” None the less, the genius of Tchaikovsky is undeniable in every phrase and in the work as a whole. The lyric, refined grace and beauty of the melodies and the inventive use of the theme and variation form unmistakably show the composer’s genius and have given the Variations on a Rococo Theme a secure spot in the solo repertoire for cello and in the hearts of audiences worldwide.
Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921), Symphony #2 in A, Op. 55
Camille Saint-Saëns, after emerging as a child prodigy, led a long life which besides musical pursuits showed that he was a true polymath: he studied geology, botany and archeology among many other areas of knowledge; was an expert at mathematics; wrote scholarly articles on a wide variety of topics; published a philosophical work and a volume of poetry; and produced a successful farcical play, La Carmpe des écrivians. Saint-Saëns was one of the leading organists of his day like his contemporary, Anton Bruckner, and as a pianist was famed for his performances. There exists a fascinating review by Marcel Proust in the contemporary periodical Le Figaro of the performance of a Mozart Concerto by Saint-Saëns in which Proust praises his peerless interpretive abilities on the piano. And it must be said, speaking of Proust, that a movement of Saint-Saëns Sonata #1 for Violin and Piano was the inspiration behind the famous “little phrase” of Charles Swann in the first volume of In Search of Lost Time. Little wonder that composer Hector Berlioz said of Saint-Saëns, “He know everything, but lacks inexperience.”
The Second Symphony is a work of relative youth- Saint-Saëns was 24 when the symphony was composed, but as a child prodigy his first compositional efforts date from his fifth year- and aroused admiration from musical icons as diverse as Berlioz, Gounod, Liszt and even Richard Wagner. Written six years after his first, the Second Symphony is a sophisticated and complex work, with a profligacy of musical themes abounding throughout the work. The second movement is particularly notable for its beauty, and the finale is a whirling tarantella that may bring to mind the saltarello finale of Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony. Saint-Saëns was often called among contemporaries a classicist in the 19th Century and a romantic in the 20th Century, both labels being used in the pejorative sense. Neither is necessarily true and both are unfair and miss the point of Saint-Saëns artistic achievements. He sought to write music of refinement and beauty, and was undoubtedly successful at achieving his artistic aims for the benefit of audiences through the years down to this day.
