Sinfonia concertante in E-flat Major for Oboe, Clarinet, Bassoon, and Horn,

K. Anh. C14.01

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born January 27, 1756 in Salzburg. He died on December 5, 1791 in Vienna. The Sinfonia concertante, K. Anh. C14.01 was presumably composed in 1778 in Paris. The sources for this work are lost. The “K” number used for Mozart’s works refers to the name Ludwig Ritter von Köchel, who first issued the Chronological-Thematic Catalogue of the Complete Works of Wolfgang Amadé Mozart in 1862. The Köchel catalogue has been updated and revised many times to keep pace with musicological revelations. A different version of the work, for flute, oboe, bassoon, and horn, exists in the catalogue as K. 297b.

The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians defines the sinfonia concertante (or symphonie concertante) as a “concert genre of the late 18th and early 19th centuries for solo instruments – usually two, three or four, but on occasion as many as seven or even nine – with orchestra. The term implies ‘symphony with important and extended solo parts’, but the form is closer to concerto than symphony.” These works are generally lighter and shorter than most symphonies or concertos, and they were especially popular in Paris until ca. 1830.

The story behind Mozart’s Sinfonia concertante for oboe, clarinet, bassoon, and horn reads like a good mystery. All sources for the original version of this piece are lost. The Sinfonia concertante for four winds (oboe, clarinet, bassoon, and horn), K. Anh. C14.01 has been attributed to Mozart and is performed with some regularity on concert programs. As we shall see, however, this version is probably an adaptation of the original version of the piece for flute, oboe, bassoon, and horn, listed in Köchel’s catalogue as K. 297b. The version with clarinet instead of flute, therefore, may not be authentic.

Mozart found himself in Paris in 1778, eager to please the French public with the kind of work with which they would be familiar—a sinfonia concertante. In a letter to his father, Leopold, he wrote: “I am now going to write a sinfonia concertante for flute, [Johann Baptist] Wendling; oboe, [Friedrich] Ramm; horn, [Giovanni] Punto [Jan Václav Stich]; and bassoon, [Georg Wenzel] Ritter. Punto plays magnifique.” These four soloists represented some of Europe’s finest virtuosi of the day. After writing the work in haste, the musicians tested it out and, according to a further communication from Mozart, fell “quite in love with it.” As was the custom, Mozart submitted the work to Joseph Legros, the director of the Concert Spirituel, who planned to have the work performed on April 12 and 19. But, much to Mozart’s and the soloists’ consternation, the performances never took place. It seems that a rival composer, Giuseppe Maria Cambini, who had on a previous occasion been humiliated by Mozart, convinced Legros that he should “forget” to have the orchestral parts copied in time, and talked him into performing one of Cambini’s own works instead. Mozart, sad to say, never produced another copy of the score, and the original has been missing ever since.

It is at this point in the tale where the alternate version of a Sinfonia concertante (with clarinet instead of flute) attributed to Mozart makes its appearance among the papers of Otto Jahn, an early biographer of Mozart. It seems that this score was prepared by an anonymous copyist and its discovery immediately caused experts to challenge its authenticity. The doubts stemmed from some highly uncharacteristic musical choices, as well as its bland orchestral scoring. Upon encouragement from flutist Samuel Baron and musicologist and sinfonia concertante expert, Barry S. Brook, Robert Levin initiated a thorough investigation of the piece. The result was a detailed book, Who Wrote the Mozart Four-Wind Concertante? (Pendragon Press, 1988), and a reconstructed edition restoring the four original solo instruments, published by Bärenreiter. Levin’s reconstructed version of the work is not without its own problems, however.

When all is said and done, the work—authentic or not—is thoroughly delightful to the listener and challenging to the soloists (especially the horn and bassoon). As a close friend who has performed the work many times once confided, who but Mozart could have penned such exquisite solo parts? Perhaps we shall never know for certain.

Symphony no. 4 in F Minor, op. 36

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky was born on May 7, 1840 in Votinsk, Russia and died on November 6, 1893 in Saint Petersburg. He remains one of the most popular composers of all time, beloved especially for his symphonies, ballets, and concertos. His Symphony no. 4 was composed in 1876-7 and received its first performance in Moscow on February 22,, 1878 under the baton of Nikolai Rubinstein. It is scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, and strings.

Composed in 1876-7, Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony remains one of his most popular works. The composer dedicated it “to my best friend,” but this was but a thinly disguised reference to the widow, Mme. Nadezhda von Meck, a woman who had long been his staunchest supporter. In one of the more mysterious composer-patron relationships ever recorded, Tchaikovsky and von Meck never met each other.

At von Meck’s request, Tchaikovsky sent her a “program” for the Fourth Symphony, a work he called in letters to his patron “our symphony,” but this document sheds precious little light on the music. His explanation of the opening fanfare, however, is telling:

The Introduction is the kernel, the quintessence, the chief thought of the whole symphony . . . This is Fate, the fatal power which hinders one in the pursuit of happiness from gaining the goal . . .

This reference to “fate” may bring to mind Beethoven’s alleged statement that the famous four-note motif of his Symphony no. 5 represented “fate knocking at the door.” Tchaikovsky acknowledged this kinship in a letter to Sergei Taneyev. Tchaikovsky was quick to add that he had only borrowed the “central idea” of Beethoven’s symphony, not its content. Tchaikovsky’s “fate” motive is heard at the beginning of the first movement, and returns toward the end of the finale, serving as a device to unify the four-movement symphonic cycle. This is not the only thematic recall within the piece, however, as there also is a reprise of an idea from the third movement in the finale, but it is the one that most fully grabs our attention. Tchaikovsky used similar thematic connections in his Fifth Symphony as well.

His abiding strength as a composer, however, lay not in the organic development of motivic ideas, but rather in the wealth of his melodic invention and the fire and brilliance of his orchestration. Both qualities may be found in abundance in the score to the Fourth Symphony. One also might add to the list of its assets Tchaikovsky’s ability to compose grand themes and broad rhythmic gestures derived from the world of ballet—a world to which he made, and was to continue to make, so many marvelous contributions. Who else, but the composer of Swan Lake and The Sleeping Beauty, could have written a 9/8-meter first movement “in the style of a waltz” with such seeming effortlessness? The world of Russian folk music, too, finds a voice in this symphony, as Tchaikovsky uses “The Little Birch Tree” as one of the two principal themes in the finale.

As for Tchaikovsky’s skill as an orchestrator, the Scherzo (Pizzicato ostinato) serves as a splendid example. Note the brilliance with which he handles each section of the orchestra: the plucked (pizzicato) strings, the virtuosic passagework for the winds, and the martial brass and timpani, each in turn delighting the ear.