Yet again we take another bite at the Mozart Piano Concerto apple! This time we will go further in depth than before.
One of Mozart's most famous works is his Piano Concerto #21 in C major, K. 467. (Which this diary is not about.) But here is the famous Andante movement in its FULL form, and performed by a legendary Mozart pianist, Arthur Schnabel, recorded in (gulp!) 1937.
I spent hours surfing Youtube for that recording. Because of the popularity of this Andante movement, there is a surfeit of bullshit flower and landscape photo montages, usually with an abridged version of the music. Apostasy! I don't mind flower pictures, but don't fuck with the music. So I continued my grueling search. I ultimately chose this one, one of the oldest pre-stereo recordings of the #21, not terribly good audio, obviously, but... oh.... it is an exquisite performance, is it not?
The #21 is also often called the "Elvira Madigan" Concerto, naming it after the idyllic Swedish film of the same name which used the Andante extensively. You can watch the Elvira Madigan sequence HERE, but I'm not going to embed it. Out of context, it becomes wretched fluff.
I've also heard the #21 Andante in grossly butchered versions in elevators. It's popular, and it has suffered grievously for being so. But everybody should have the opportunity to hear it at least one time in their life in its true form. Better still would be to hear it in context, the whole concerto, all three movements, because it stands as an island of reason and serenity between two movements of manic ebullience. In that context, the calm stillness of its waters is more pronounced.
Perhaps most striking about it, to me, is the conversational nature of it. The Mozart symphonies #40 and #41, which we have also covered in past diaries, do not create that same sense of person-to-person contact, up close, as if you could feel another person's breath on your face.
Enough of the #21 though. This diary is about the Mozart #17, which is a far less well known Piano Concerto. It's also my favorite, and I feel entitled to use the perks of my position to choose it instead of the more famous ones.
The #21 the #17 were composed after he moved to Vienna, a time when he was poor. And wasteful of his money. Without a wealthy patron to support him, he tried raising money with a series of subscription concerts of piano concertos. You can scrub from your mind any vision you may have of Mozart leading an orchestra in a Carnegie-Hall type concert hall. These were casual affairs in private residences with small orchestras that raised enough money to help keep him afloat.
From a letter to his father about his first three Vienna concertos, we can hear Mozart chafing against the requirements of composing for an 18th century public who didn't get what he was doing.
These concertos [Nos. 11, 12, and 13] are a happy medium between what is too easy and too difficult; they are very brilliant, pleasing to the ear, and natural, without being vapid. There are passages here and there from which the connoisseurs alone can derive satisfaction; but these passages are written in such a way that the less learned cannot fail to be pleased, though without knowing why. . . . The golden mean of truth in all things is no longer either known or appreciated. In order to win applause one must write stuff which is so inane that a coachman could sing it, or so unintelligible that it pleases precisely because no sensible man can understand it. [3]
(December 1782)
Those first three, (#11, 12, and 13) were pretty good, as even Mozart's "just okay" stuff is, but soon, after reworking his conception of piano concerto form and how much he could strive for, the real masterpieces of the Vienna subscription period came forth, concertos #14 to #25. They share enough characteristics in common that teaching you about one is sufficient to get you started in your own exploration of the rest of the Mozart piano concertos.
Mozart's complicated love life
The intimate nature of Mozart's evolving concerto style might make us wonder what was going on in Mozart's life at that time. Mozart was a ladies' man. There is debate about just how far afield and how often he sowed his oats because many of the best stories are somewhat apocryphal in nature -- my favorite story being the not totally incredible one that Mozart was eventually murdered by a jealous fellow Mason whose wife he had impregnated.
One of the best articles on Mozart's love life that I found on-line is the one by William Stafford, All About Eve: Mozart and Women (a long PDF file). Stafford takes a skeptical eye to most of the gossip that has been passed on, but still gives us a fair enough share of it to be entertained by it. One of the rumors Stafford leaves open to questioning is the long reported and repeated claim that Mozart's wife, Constanza, was tolerant of his affairs. For instance, in Mozart by Eric Blom:
Some of the less slatternly ones may have been sent about their business by Constanze in little fiery fits of jealousy, more or less justified. For oddly enough – and yet understandably in a way – the young man who before his marriage had prided himself on his fastidiousness, now began to play with paltry temptations to extra-marital diversions, some of them none too dainty. How far his little infidelities went we do not know at all definitely, but we hear that before long Constanze had to listen, half dismayed and half amused, to lighthearted and loose-tongued confessions from a husband who was so entertainingly frank and at the same time so sincerely repentant that she could never refuse him an impulsively affectionate forgiveness.
For those who want a less academic account of Mozart's love life, there's a very cheesy website about it HERE.
In contrast to Beethoven, who fell hopelessly in love with the hot chicks of the nobility and cared little for common women, Mozart's taste in women seems to have been more eclectic. And impulsive. And marked by brief but sincere feelings of guilt. He really did love his wife.
From a letter to Constanza, written while away from home:
Arrange your dear sweet nest very daintily, for my little fellow deserves it indeed, he has really behaved himself very well and is only longing to possess your sweetest ... Just picture to yourself that rascal; as I write he crawls on to the table and looks at me questioningly. I, however, box his ears properly – but the rogue is simply ... and now the knave burns only more fiercely and can hardly be restrained.
Reposted here for purely gratuitous reasons, of course.
I previously compared him to Beethoven. At the risk of getting off topic... Beethoven and Mozart were clearly very different personalities. Do you remember this famous Zen parable? You are walking through the jungle etc., etc... Okay. So let's say Mozart and Beethoven are walking through the jungle and they see a tiger attacking them. But there's a path. They run down the path, but it leads to a cliff and the tiger is still coming at them. But there is a vine hanging from the cliff! They climb down the vine. But before they get very far, they look down, and they see crocodiles leering up at them, snapping their jaws. But then they see a bunch of grapes hanging from the cliff in front of them.
Mozart would eat the grapes. His music would tell us that, even if we had none of this biographical information. Mozart's music is the music of a man who loves grapes. Beethoven would have screamed threats at the tiger and thrown grapes at it.
(Note: Tchaikovsky probably would have tried to eat the grapes and vomited them back up because he secretly wanted raspberries.)
As for any more intimate details of Mozart's sexual proclivities, I'll spare you. Let's just say that long known and widely documented as they are, they are of nature a too revolting to not be funny. Discuss it on your own time.
Barbara Ployer
Barbara Ployer was a composing and piano student of Mozart's, and the woman that he composed the Concerto #17 for, that we will hear later.
From the Wikipedia entry on Barbara Ployer:
Maria Anna Barbara or Babette Ployer (1765–1811) was an Austrian piano and composition pupil of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, for whom he wrote two piano concertos in 1784, No. 14 KV. 449 and No. 17, KV. 453, which were both premiered at her residence by her in 1784. [...] Both the concertos that Mozart wrote for her are of the highest quality, and the piano parts are testing, suggesting she was highly accomplished both technically and musically.
I can't find a definitive answer online for this, but the speculation that I've always heard was that the twenty year old Barbara Ployer was not just the pianist for his concertos, but one of his loves. I tend to want to believe that even more just because of the nature of these concertos, that intimate breath-on-the-face, including in the stunning slow movement of the #17, which, with God's grace, will never be turned into elevator music.
Mozart and the Piano Concerto form
If this section bores you and you already know it all, skip it. Although I might say something witty and then you'll miss it. Who knows?
I said at the top that this was another bite at the Mozart Piano Concerto apple. The two previous diaries on this were the one on Horowitz rehearsing the Piano Concerto #23, and, oddly enough, my very early diary on the Beethoven Piano Concerto #3. The early Beethoven concertos adhered to the same form that Mozart worked out for himself in the years before his great Viennese piano concertos. I've described them before as being in Sonata-allegro form. Really... they are not, but that description is close enough for government work. This time we will dig a little deeper.
Since our very first diaries (and a gazillion since) have been about Sonata-allegro form, it's easier to listen to it that way. But Mozart identified a problem with using Sonata-allegro form in concertos.
Let me whip out my handy graphic to remind you of what Mozart's Piano Concerto first movements are almost-sorta like but aren't REALLY like. This is sonata-allegro form:
Sonata-allegro musical form, explained Dumbo-style
The problem for Mozart as a composer was, where does the piano enter? If it shares the stage, so to speak, with the orchestra from the beginning, it becomes more like a symphony with an added piano rather than a showcase for a conversation between the solo instrument and the orchestra. The Mozart solution was to have the first exposition played by the orchestra alone, and then the piano enters for the second exposition. But now a new problem arises, because the second theme of the first exposition (2b, above) changed key and spoiled the tension. Mozart changed this so the whole first exposition is in the home key.
After the first exposition, Mozart creates a clear seam in the music, a resting place that allows the piano to enter like the star of the show leaping on stage for the first time, usually with creative trills and runs.
What would be the second exposition (if this WERE Sonata-allegro) is a more complicated form. The piano and orchestra take turns with each other, the piano being allowed to elaborate and ornament the same material that the orchestra presented first. Mozart also usually introduces new material, a new theme, often somewhat personal, just for the piano. Before the second theme returns, this time in the new dominant key, the piano plays an elaborate bridge passage to the new key, often one of the dramatic moments of the concerto.
This new form created very long first movements (for that time in history) for his concertos. Typically they are as long or longer than the remaining two movements put together. It's safe to say they are the red meat of the concerto.
The second movement is usually slower, softer, and more personal, less complicated in form, in contrast to the elaborate behemoth first movements. The third movements are usually very light rondos, the lightest and shortest movements of the concerto, meant to lighten the mood as the rude 18th century concertgoers start yapping, rustling in preparation to leave, and making last ditch pickup maneuvers.
And on! To the music!
Mozart Piano Concerto #17 in G Major, K. 453, first movement Allegro, performed by Marc Andre Hamelinl, Susan G. Komen Concert for the Cure, conducted by Simon Rattle
You probably need to turn up the volume for this. The levels are a little low, but it's the best overall recording I could find. Crank it up!
If the following analysis seems more detailed than usual, that's my intent. For this diary. If you've been reading my diaries for a long time, you know how pointless these dialogues can be when you don't have anything to organize. There is a lot to organize here, and a lot to miss. Reading and coming back now, I can see that this is a bit messy, but I think it's still useful.
Exposition First theme (0:39 to 1:38)
A jaunty little melody starts us out, sprightly in the strings, gentle at first, with little chromatic tweaks to make it cute. And then it explodes outwards with full orchestra at 1:06.
Exposition Second theme (1:38 to 2:06)
A gentle second theme, less jaunty more intimate, carried by the warmer voices of the woodwinds. Still in G major, as I explained above.
Exposition Codetta (2:06 to 2:49)
The codetta begins with a little extra punch.
The piano makes its entrance! (2:49 to 6:06)
We are now in the second-exposition-like thingy. Still in G major.
First Theme again (2:49 to 3:34)
The piano enters, the orchestra drops out, and the piano gives us its own version of the first theme, with only the woodwinds propping it up occasionally. As it goes along, it becomes more ornamented (3:10). The strings almost sneak back in to offer a little more support as it becomes more ornamented.
And notice how characteristically beautiful and Mozarty this section is, 3:17 to 3:20, with the violins and piano briefly doubled up. It's the little tiny things like that that make Mozart a feast of beautiful little details.
At 3:25, the "explosive" part of the first theme returns. But now its rather subdued in the strings. The piano adds his own variant material atop this at 3:30.
Bridge passage to the D major. (3:34 to 3:50)
A series of fast eight-note passages help us shift key up to the dominant, D major. That group of simple little eight-note passages isn't all that impressive by itself, but let's just note that it comes from that "exploded outward" part in the first theme. (Go back and compare to 1:17 to 1:20).
(How does Dumbo notice shit like that? I've had this concerto in my car CD changer for God knows how long. The fun of Mozart is that the more you listen to it, the more you catch these little details. It's like picking little marshmallows out of your Lucky Charms.)
New Theme! (now in D major) (3:50 to 4:22)
As on schedule with my description on piano concerto form, Mozart now introduces a brand new melody that belongs solely to the piano.
Simple at first, at 4:22 to 4:34, it descends into a flight through a series of keys, just the piano and the woodwinds.
The Second Theme returns (4:40 to 5:42)
The same as before, but now we hear the piano's take on it. At 5:10, the piano gives us a highly ornamented variation on it.
Codetta (5:42 to 6:01)
The piano drops out, the pianist rests his fingers, as the orchestra plays us out to the end of the exposition. Mozart breaks out of his own mold again here, by having the orchestra (alone) interject that "exploding outward" (as I called it) part of the first theme. (From 1:07) Not part of his normal form, it's an artistic choice. And now it's the first codetta all the way to the end of the exposition / beginning of development.
DEVELOPMENT SECTION (6:01 to 7:22)
Mozart creates a moment of suspense, here, at the beginning of the development, as the codetta seems to end in suspense. The flute enters with a new and eerie motif in the distant key of A-flat. In one of the most exciting parts of the concerto, the piano and woodwinds play out and ornament this motif as they fly through a number of keys.
At 6:52, a moment of hushed tension, the piano continues the chase through more key changes with a motif based on what used to be the "perky" first five notes of the concerto, now more serious in tone.
As we reach the end of the development, at 7:21 the piano loses steam, becomes softer, and the woodwinds join to try to "perk it up" after all that seriousness. And thus we seque into...
RECAPITULATION -- First Theme again (7:22 to 8:17)
With the return to G major, we are over the hump. The piano and the orchestra share the theme a little more democratically in the recapitulation, although the orchestra does most of the work here.
Recapitulation -- That "New" theme again (8:17 to 9:15)
The "New" material theme, the new material that the piano introduced for itself at 3:50. Here, the piano hogs it as before.
Recapitulation -- Second theme again (9:15 to 10:05)
Same as before.
Coda! (10:05 to end)
With the trill on the piano, we know we've reached one of the important seams in the concerto. Where, before, the codetta began, here we have the coda, (latin for tail), and in concertos, a coda is structurally a far bigger deals than the codetta. The important cadenza section is coming where the fancy-schmancy soloist who charges so much has to earn his pay by showing us he's worth it.
The orchestra continues to play the codetta, until 10:23, when it ends on a rather prominent long-held chord, a way of saying, "It's all yours, Marc! Knock 'em dead!"
Quick Dumbo! What is a cadenza?
The cadenza begins at 10:23, a long piano solo based on variations of all the previous material. In Mozart's days, it was often the case that the cadenza was just left BLANK so that the soloist could make it up as he pleased, going Inna Gadda Davida Honey on the audience all he wanted. Over time, that changed as concertos were taken more seriously as composed works of art. Some of Mozart's concertos have written cadenzas by Mozart. Other concertos have cadenzas written for them by later composers, like Beethoven, for instance. George Casadesus used to improvise his own on stage with Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra, sometimes going atonal in his improvisations!
I can't find this online (I'm googling it now) but I'm going to assume, since this concerto was composed for a well-connected twenty year old maybe-girlfriend pianist, that this cadenza is one that Mozart wrote specifically. Sounds reasonable, doesn't it? I won't analyze it any further than that.
At 11:41, the cadenza done, the orchestra cleans up and finishes the first movement by itself.
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I wanted to do all three movements, but this got more hinky than I thought it would be. I'm running late so I'm going to post this with just the first movement. I'll cover the remaining two movements of this concerto in my next diary (two weeks from now).
I know I promised in last diary (two weeks ago, because I skipped last Thursday) that this diary would be easier than the G Minor Quintet. I'm finding that's not an easy promise to make with Mozart because the cool stuff is ALL IN THE DETAILS. When covering Beethoven, I hope this will be easier because Beethoven paints broad landscapes -- with lots of cool details, but navigating the landscape is the bulk of the work. Beethoven is coming up in four weeks.
But... the second half WILL be simpler than this. First movements of concertos are beautiful but difficult to explain. The best part is yet to come, because the second movement is the one that touches hearts.
IMPORTANT NOTE to all CMOPUS fanatics!
Zenbassoon will be guest-hosting next Thursday, August 4. I'll be back on August 11 with the rest of the Mozart #17. If you're looking for your CMOPUS fix, search the CMOPUS tag next week.
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