Classic Ross Amico

Tag: Baroque Music

Baroque Remixed: Handel, Brahms & More

Prior to the authenticity movement, musicians basically did whatever they wanted, employing works of the masters as so much grist for the mill. Bach and Handel were played by a hundred instruments, swooning portamenti applied, and trombones and bass drums added if it was felt the music required a good punch.

Hamilton Harty’s arrangement of Handel’s “Water Music” was one of the saner applications, though it has come to sound somewhat strange to our ears today. At the other end of the scale was freewheeling Thomas Beecham, who was not at all bashful about lending cymbal crashes to “Messiah.”

But you’ve got to remember, Sir Thomas was also crafting orchestral canapés and bonbons from Handel operas at a time when they were basically unknown outside of musicological circles.

A sample of Beecham’s arrangements for the 1932 “Handel” ballet “The Origin of Design” will cap this morning’s “Sweetness and Light.” The climactic battle music is an amalgam of selections from Handel’s “Giulio Cesare,” “Rinaldo,” and “Ariodante” – and we’ll hear Beecham conduct it hell-for-leather!

“The Origin of Design” was choreographed by Ninette de Valois, who also devised the scenario and choreography for Constant Lambert’s ballet “The Prospect Before Us (or, Pity the Poor Dancers).” Here, Lambert dips heavily into works of 18th century English composer William Boyce, whose eight delectable symphonies we still hear from time to time. Unsurprisingly, selections from some of these find their way into Lambert’s 1940 score, which he introduced with the Sadler’s Wells Ballet. Valois was inspired by a collection of drawings and prints by Thomas Rowlandson. (A reproduction of one is included with this post.)

In between, we’ll admire the handiwork of a quite reputable, 19th century intermediary. It was no less than Johannes Brahms who lifted a portion of a harpsichord suite as the basis for his “Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel,” a piece conceived for solo piano in 1861. In 1938, English composer Edmund Rubbra orchestrated the work. We’ll hear it, given the luxury treatment, in a 1960 recording with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra.

Yes, that’s right. Back in the day, the prevailing philosophy was “If It’s Baroque, Fix It.” 18th century inspirations will be polished up by 20th century hands on “Sweetness and Light,” this Saturday morning at 11:00 EDT/8:00 PDT, exclusively on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon!

Stream it wherever you are at the link:

https://kwax.uoregon.edu/

August 23, 2025
Telemann Pi Day Pie Baroque Celebration

How to conflate Telemann’s birthday and Pi Day? Why, get yourself some pie and enjoy Telemann’s “Tafelmusik,” of course. This courtly table music can run to at least four hours, complete. That’s plenty of time to bake from scratch. Brew the coffee strong and go for Baroque.

Happy birthday, Telemann!

March 14, 2025
Scarlatti’s Musical Duels and Lasting Legacy

It seems as if it was only a matter of time before any Baroque musician of merit would become embroiled in a musical duel.

In the case of Domenico Scarlatti, he was challenged in Rome by none other than George Frideric Handel. The resulting contest led to Handel being judged superior to his rival on the organ; however, on the harpsichord Scarlatti was deemed to be supreme. In fact, Scarlatti’s unusual facility at the keyboard has had artists “keyed up” for centuries.

Born in Naples in 1685 – the same year as Handel and Bach – Scarlatti spent much of his career in the service of the Portuguese and Spanish royal families. He wrote 555 keyboard sonatas, which have been admired by composer-performers from Frederic Chopin to Marc-André Hamelin.

This Sunday night on “The Lost Chord,” we’ll enjoy several works written in tribute to this Baroque master.

Charles Avison, whose life overlapped Scarlatti’s own (he was born in 1709, when Scarlatti was 23 years-old), arranged a number of his elder colleague’s keyboard works into a set of 12 concerti grossi. We’ll sample one of those, Avison’s Concerto No. 10 in D.

Then we’ll turn to American composer Norman Dello Joio. Dello Joio was the recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 1957 for his “Meditations on Ecclesiastes.” From 1979, we’ll hear his four-movement piano work, “Salute to Scarlatti.”

Dmitri Shostakovich arranged two of Scarlatti’s keyboard sonatas for small wind ensemble and percussion. We’ll enjoy performances of these by members of the former USSR Ministry of Culture Symphony Orchestra conducted by Gennady Rozhdestvensky.

Finally, Alfredo Casella’s 1926 suite for piano and orchestra, “Scarlattiana,” draws its inspiration from dozens of Scarlatti sonatas. Though unquestionably high-spirited, it was not originally intended for the dance – but since it unabashedly recalls Stravinsky’s “Pulcinella,” it is hardly surprising that some clown decided to choreograph it.

I hope you’ll join me for a mixed salad of Scarlatti tributes, on “Italian Dressing,” on “The Lost Chord,” now in syndication on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon!

Keep in mind, KWAX is on the West Coast, so there’s a three-hour difference for the Trenton-Princeton area. Here are the respective air-times of my recorded shows (with East Coast conversions in parentheses):

PICTURE PERFECT, the movie music show – Friday on KWAX at 5:00 PACIFIC TIME (8:00 PM EDT)

THE LOST CHORD, unusual and neglected rep – Saturday on KWAX at 4:00 PACIFIC TIME (7:00 PM EDT)

Stream them here!

https://kwax.uoregon.edu/

August 12, 2023
Bach’s Leipzig Cantor: 300 Years of Music

On this date in 1723 – 300 years ago today – Johann Sebastian Bach was formally inducted as Thomaskantor in Leipzig. In this capacity, he was to direct the St. Thomas School and provide music for four churches: primarily the St. Thomas Church and the St. Nicholas Church, but to a lesser extent also the New Church and St. Peter’s Church. It’s easy to understand why this would have been regarded as the leading cantorate in Protestant Germany. Bach held the position for 27 years until his death in 1750.

During that time he gained further prestige through honorary appointments at the courts of Köthen and Weissenfels, as well as that of the Elector Frederick Augustus in Dresden (who was also King of Poland).

As can be imagined, with all these professional obligations to fulfill, Bach churned out an extraordinary amount of music. In the first three years alone, he composed most of his over 300 cantatas (more than 100 of which have been lost).

The crushing workload must have seemed all the more burdensome because of frequent clashes with his employer, Leipzig’s city council, which was begrudging when it came to ever spending any money.

It may seem incredible in hindsight, but Bach was not the first choice for the position. That would have been Georg Philipp Telemann. But Telemann declined, because the money was too good in Hamburg.

The second choice was Christoph Graupner, not exactly a household name today, perhaps, but he composed a lot of music worth rediscovering. Graupner had an “in” as a former student of Bach’s predecessor as Thomaskantor, Johann Kuhnau. Unfortunately, his patron at the time wouldn’t let him go. But to his credit, Graupner graciously wrote Bach a glowing recommendation.

Both Telemann and Graupner were able to leverage the prestigious job offer to improve their worth to their current employers. In particular, Graupner was able to collect his back salary in financially rocky Darmstadt, and he was given a substantial raise.

Here is the first of the cantatas Bach wrote for his new post. “Die Elenden sollen essen” (“All the starving shall be nourished”), BWV 75, was first performed on May 30, 1723, the first Sunday after Trinity, in St. Nicholas Church, two days before the composer took up his official duties.

Leipzig certainly got its money’s worth with its new hire. You might say, it got a lot of bang for its Bach!

PHOTO: Bach statue outside St. Thomas Church

June 1, 2023
Handel: The Great Bear of Music and Temper

With enormous appetites to rival his formidable musicianship, a larger-than-life reputation, and an eccentric, much remarked-upon manner of walking, George Frideric Handel was affectionately nicknamed “The Great Bear.”

Handel is fondly remembered for his “Water Music” and “Music for the Royal Fireworks,” his epic oratorios, his florid operas, and his copious concertos and chamber music.

Though by many accounts a kind-hearted man with a good sense of humor, he was also prone to an explosive, bear-like temper. I imagine this would have gone unnoted during the several years he spent in Italy, but in England people tended to take heed.

Music historian Charles Burney recalled Handel berating a chorister during rehearsals for “Messiah.” “… Handel let loose his great bear upon him; and after swearing in four or five languages, cried out in broken English….”

During rehearsals for the opera “Ottone,” he once grabbed the soprano Francesca Cuzzoni and threatened to toss her out a window. Cuzzoni, looking to make the best impression with her London debut, had roused “the Bear” by pressing him for a replacement aria, the better to showcase her unique talents.

But Cuzzoni could give as good as she got. During a Handel production of Giovanni Bononcini’s opera “Astianatte,” she and her costar, Faustina Bordoni, flew at one another in a fury and began tearing at their costumes. They had to be dragged off stage.

Some years earlier, as a young man of 19, Handel was filling in as conductor at the premiere of Johann Mattheson’s opera “Cleopatra.” Mattheson also sang the tenor role of Antony, so while he was on stage, Handel was to sit at the harpsichord and keep order among the musicians.

Trouble arose when Mattheson returned to the orchestra and Handel refused to cede his place. A power struggle ensued, as Mattheson sought to regain control, but Handel insisted on continuing to conduct. The performance was interrupted when Mattheson suggested the two take the quarrel outside. Swords were drawn, and one of Mattheson’s thrusts glanced off a button near Handel’s heart. This had the effect of dousing the combatants with cold water, and the two reconciled to become lifelong friends.

It wasn’t all claws and teeth, to be sure. Ursine Handel could also be a bit of a teddy bear, and a generous one. One of his more enduring works, “Messiah” – penned in a mere 24 days – was given its first performance in Dublin, on April 13, 1742, as a charitable event. It benefited two hospitals and liberated 142 men from debtor’s prison.

Eight years later, Handel revived the work at London’s Foundling Hospital, a recently-instituted home for abandoned infants and children. He had already donated an organ to the hospital’s chapel, and the year before, recycled the “Hallelujah Chorus” as part of his “Foundling Hospital Anthem.” Again, Handel’s oratorio raised a ton of money. The charitable presentation became an annual event, with the composer returning every year for the rest of his life. Handel’s relationship to the institution was cemented with an honorary title. After his death, he left the rights to the oratorio to the hospital.

When Handel finally did die, blind but rich, in 1759, at the age of 74, his funeral was attended by 3,000 people. He never married, but filled his hours with composing – leaving 30 oratorios and 50 operas – and of course living the good life, with plenty of beer and food. He was interred at Westminster Abbey, a very great honor indeed.

Above his grave, there is a monument, a sculpture of Handel in the act of composing his cash cow, the oratorio “Messiah.” The bear may now be in hibernation, but every Christmas – and sometimes Lent – his music lives on.

Happy birthday, Handel!

IMAGE: “When They Were Young: Handel the Musician. Handel threatens to throw the temperamental Italian opera singer out of his window.” (Peter Jackson, 1966)

February 23, 2022

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