Looking Forward, Looking Back: A Two-Way Musical Excursion

1783:
Niccolò Piccinni (1728–1800) had the ill fortune to be caught up, against his will, in a tasteless rivalry with fellow opera composer Christoph Willibald Gluck, engineered by the Grand Opera, goodness knows why. This deplorable state of affairs saw the Parisian public divided into two rival factions, the Gluckists and the Piccinnists. I recall reading something of the kind in Berlioz's Memoirs. I've no idea where he stood on this issue; I had the impression Berlioz liked both composers. Even Piccinni's proposal to erect a public monument to Gluck when the latter died in 1787 was met by opposition from the "Gluckists". Talk about childish.

Of his hundred-plus (!) operas, Didon would be Piccinni's biggest triumph. From it, this is the "Overture":



1833:
Clara Schumann née Wieck (1819–1896) was one of the most distinguished pianists of the age and toured throughout Europe to great acclaim. A composer from an early age, her not inconsiderable output later suffered from the pressures of married life, something her composer husband Robert found as distressing as she did.

Her Romance variée, Op. 3 is dedicated to Robert. He would use its theme in his own Impromptus, Op. 5, as would the Schumanns' mutual friend Johannes Brahms in his Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 9. Clara herself would recycle it in her Variationen über ein Thema von Robert Schumann, Op. 20.

1781:
The ill-starred Bostonian William Billings (1746–1800) wrote almost exclusively for unaccompanied mixed chorus (SATB), as exemplified by "Emanuel" from his book-length collection The Psalm-Singer's Amusement:



1835:
The reputation of the wonderfully named Fromental Halévy (1799–1862) rests almost exclusively these days on one opera, La Juive. You can read the plot here. From Act Two, this is "Romance: 'Il va venir'":

1779:
Two big fish this time round. And Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791) is one of the biggest fish of them all. Okay, it's part of my strategy but it still feels odd to allot him one slot only -- same goes for the great Ludwig Van (and, much later, our Boys). Like Brahms's autumnal Double Concerto, Wolfie's Sinfonia Concertante, K.364/320d for violin, viola and orchestra exerts a singular fascination on me, not least because it's the first work of lasting popular appeal to feature a solo viola:



1837:
Poland's greatest composer, Frédéric Chopin (1810–1849) wrote almost exclusively for the piano, on which instrument his own prowess is regarded by many to have been head and shoulders above his contemporaries. His favoured venue was the Paris salon, whose intimacy he preferred to the big audiences of the concert hall. From 1837, this is his Impromptu No. 1 in A flat Major, Op. 29:

1777:
Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714–1787) pretty well reinvented French opera, earning the admiration of the later likes of Mozart, Schubert, Berlioz and Wagner. Hector Berlioz in particular revered Gluck and carried the Gluckian tradition to a climax with his four-hour epic Les Troyens. Tragically, half Gluck's oeuvre was lost in a fire; all the same, a full 35 operas have survived and much more besides.

This is "Le perfid Renaud me fuit", from Act 5, Scene 4 of Armide:



1839:
Franz Lizst was the first superstar pianist, whose virtuosic transcriptions of other composers' orchestral works were regarded by some as better than the originals! During the last 20 years of his life, he turned to an austere "less is more" style of writing that foreshadowed developments in 20th-century music.

This is his reimagining of the themes from one of Beethoven's later works, the overture to Die Ruinen von Athen, Op. 113 (1811). It includes the famous "Turkish March" from 6 Variations on an Original Theme in D Major, Op. 76 written two years earlier:

1775:
Giuseppe Giordani (1751–1798) was an Italian composer, mainly of opera but active in all genres.

This is the opening "Allegro" from his Trio No. 1 in D Major:



1841:
Adolphe Adam (1803–1856) was a French composer, teacher and music critic. I recall being bored sh!tless as a young child having to sit through a film of his best-known work, the ballet Giselle. I'm still no fan of "classical" dance but I've warmed to his music since then.

From Act Two of Giselle, this is "Grand pas de deux: Adage":

1773:
Giovanni Paisiello (1740–1816) was an Italian composer of the Classical era. The most popular opera composer of the late 1700s, his operatic style influenced Mozart and Rossini.

From Il tamburo, this "Andantino" is the second instrumental prelude (although it's not entirely clear where it occurs in the opera):



1843:
Michael William Balfe (1808–1870) was an Irish composer, best remembered for his operas, especially The Bohemian Girl. From it, this is "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls", most often heard these days in the ethereal version by Enya on her 1991 album Shepherd Moons:

1771:
Ernst Eichner (1740–1777) was a German bassoonist and composer. Like Cannabich (see above), he was a representative of the Mannheim School.

Two of his 20 concertos were for harp (or keyboard instrument); here is the second of these, his Op. 9 in D Major:


1845:
The English composer Samuel Wesley (1810–1876) was also one of his country's leading organists and choirmasters. Oddly, he had an aversion to the by then generally accepted equal temperament in tuning.

From his Morning and Evening Service in E Major, this is the opening "Magnificat":

1769:
João de Sousa Carvalho (1745–c. 1798) was the foremost Portuguese composer of his generation, whose many church works have been likened stylistically to those of Jommelli and occasionally Haydn.

Of his secular music, this is the "Overture" to the opera L'amore industrioso:



1847:
Jacques Offenbach (1819–1880) was a German-born French composer, cellist and impresario, remembered for his nearly 100 operettas and his unfinished opera The Tales of Hoffmann.

L'alcôve is his first known opéra comique and the first of his stage works to be performed. Compare its "Ouverture" with that of Carvalho -- the gap between pairs of composers and their music is widening!

1767:
The Neapolitan composer Gabriele Leone (c. 1735–1790) was a virtuoso on both mandolin and violin. In 1770 he published a volume entitled Analytical method for mastering the violin or the mandolin (the two are identically tuned).

From his first book of six sonatas for mandolin and basso continuo, this is the second movement ("Larghetto") from Sonata No. 5 in A Major, Op. 1:



1849:
The Frenchman Hector Berlioz (1803–1869) is unique in the classical musical firmament. For one thing, he never learned to play the piano. I've posted this before but I feel it can't be repeated often enough. It's from Berlioz's Mémoires (in translation -- not by me, I should add, but by the incomparable David Cairns):

I had mastered three majestic, incomparable instruments, the flageolet, the flute and the guitar. Who could fail to recognise in this judicious choice the impulse of nature which was driving me towards the most immense orchestral effects and music on the scale of Michelangelo! The flute, the guitar and the flageolet!… I have never had any other skills as an instrumentalist, though these seem to me respectable enough as it is. But I am not being fair to myself: I could also play the drum.

My father was against letting me start studying the piano, otherwise I would probably have become a formidable pianist, like countless others. He had absolutely no intention of making an artist of me, and was probably worried that the piano might establish too strong a hold on me and lead me deeper into music than he wished.

I have often regretted not being able to play the piano; this skill could be of great use to me in many circumstances. But when I think of the frightening number of trivia that are produced with such ease day-in day-out -- disgraceful compositions that would be beyond the reach of their authors if they had to rely on pen and paper and were deprived of their musical kaleidoscope -- I have to thank my lucky stars for having been obliged to learn to compose in silence and with complete freedom. This has preserved me from the tyranny of fingering patterns, which are so damaging for creative composition, and from the seduction of commonplaces to which composers are exposed most of the time.

This is part one, "Hymne", from his monumental Te Deum (I doubt whether he has ever got the twelve harps stipulated in the score). Note the thrilling alternation of opening chords in the orchestra and on the organ -- 16-year-old me was blown away:

1765:
Tommaso Traetta (1727–1779) was an Italian composer of the Neapolitan School. He and others introduced such operatic reforms as reducing both ornateness of style and the primacy of star singers.

From his three-act opera Semiramide, this is the aria "Il pastor se torna aprile":



1851:
Woldemar Bargiel (1828–1897) was related to Clara Schumann, who along with husband Robert helped the young Woldemar in his first steps towards what would become a career in teaching.

The bulk of his compositions are for piano and chamber ensembles. This is the complete Trio for piano, violin and cello No. 1 in F major, Op. 6 (he would write three in this genre):

1763:
The words "Tartini" and "Devil’s Trill" are pretty well synonymous these days, although Guiseppe Tartini (1692–1770) was much more than the composer of the sonata of that name. A virtuoso violinist, he wrote almost exclusively for his instrument, including at least 135 concertos! He was also a music theorist, but with his feet firmly in the practice of his art.

His five-movement Violin Sonata No. 9 in A Major (B.A1) was first published in 1763:



1853:
Like Tartini, the reputation today of Joseph Joachim Raff (1822–1882) rests on just one work, a cavatina for violin and piano. In fact, Raff wrote prolifically in most genres and was highly regarded during his lifetime. In 1845, he did a "Bach" and walked the 48 miles from Zürich to Basel to hear Franz Liszt play the piano.

His Te Deum (WoO.16) had to wait 160 years to see publication. It is in three sections: "Te Deum laudamus", "Te ergo quaesumus" and "In te Domine speravi":