Witold Lutosławski
Born: January 25, 1913, Warsaw, Poland
Died: February 7, 1994, Warsaw, Poland
Concerto for Cello and Orchestra
- Composed: 1970
- Premiere: October 14, 1970 by the Bournemouth Symphony, Edward Downes conducting, Mstislav Rostropovich, cello
- Instrumentation: solo cello, 3 flutes (incl. 2 piccolos), 3 oboes, 3 clarinets (incl. bass clarinet), 3 bassoons (incl. contrabassoon), 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, bell plate, snare drum, suspended cymbals, tam-tam, tenor drum, tom-toms, vibraphone, whip, wood blocks, xylophone, harp, celeste, piano, strings
- CSO notable performances: First: October 1983, Michael Gielen conducting; Yo-Yo Ma, cello. Most Recent: March 1992, Jesús López Cobos conducting; Lynn Harrell, cello. Other: March 1992, Carnegie Hall, Jesús López Cobos conducting; Lynn Harrell, cello.
- Duration: approx. 23 minutes
Witold Lutosławski was one of the few composers in the second half of the 20th century who were able to develop a language of their own, one that was artistically valid, innovative and accessible at the same time. He explored uncharted territory, yet he built on the past, effecting a synthesis between old and new stylistic elements on one hand, and intellectual and emotional approaches on the other.
These remarkable results were not achieved overnight. The Polish master’s style evolved gradually, over many years, from neo-Classical and folklore-inspired beginnings to the landmark orchestral score Jeux vénitiens (“Venetian Games”) in 1961, the work that introduced the concept of “controlled chance” and established Lutosławski’s international reputation.
The Cello Concerto was Lutosławski’s first work for solo instrument and orchestra, written for the great Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, who played the world premiere with the Bournemouth Symphony under the direction of Edward Downes on October 14, 1970. The composer wrote a detailed program note on his piece (see below). It is worth noting that Lutosławski saw plenty of new possibilities in the concerto form that earlier composers had not explored. His approach was essentially dramatic, where soloist and orchestra are separate characters interacting in various ways, sometimes in conflict and sometimes in agreement. Lutosławski’s idiom is non-traditional because it contains few references to the past, yet it is based on simple and direct musical gestures that make it largely self-explanatory.
The Cello Concerto consists of four movements played without pause: Introduction, four Episodes, Cantilena and Finale.
Introduction: I understand the note D repeated at one-second intervals in an expressionless manner (indifferente) as a moment of complete relaxation, or even absentmindedness. The performer abandons this state immediately when something else begins to happen in his part and will return to it several times in the course of the Introduction. The passing on from the state of absentmindedness to that of concentration and the other way around is always abrupt. Several threads begin in the Introduction, but they never develop. You can see their character in the restrained dynamics and in such indications as grazioso, un poco buffo ma con eleganza, marziale, etc. Naturally, marziale is to be understood figuratively. It is indeed a very unreal march. The last moment of absentmindedness is slightly different from the previous ones. Dynamic differences, grace notes, etc. occur. It is as if the cello, forced to perform monotonous, boring repetitions, tried to diversify them and did it in a naïve, silly way. In this moment trumpets intervene to stop the cello and to shout out their angry phrase.
After a five-second rest the cello begins the first Episode, inviting a few instruments to a dialogue, which subsequently develops into a more animated music. The brass instruments put an end to it, as they had done at the end of the Introduction.
Other Episodes unfold in a similar manner. Their character is always grazioso, scherzando or the like. Only the interventions of the brass are serious. Until now the cello has still been unconcerned, jocular if not childish. But the moment comes when it, too, becomes serious, and such it will remain nearly until the end of the piece.
The Cantilena begins and develops in a broad melodic line. To put an end to it a few brass instruments are not enough. This time it needs the angry intervention presented in the form of a huge orchestral tutti and it is in this way that the finale begins. A sort of duel ensues between the cello and the orchestra, after which the cello, playing three very rapid sections, is attacked by three different small groups of instruments. Finally the orchestra prevails, attaining its climax after which the cello utters a moaning phrase.
The work might have ended there. But instead of the gloomy, disappearing conclusion one might have expected, there follows a short and fast Coda, whose triumphant ending is, as it were, beyond the event that has just occurred. The very end of the work recalls its beginning, or more precisely its brilliant atmosphere.
The score is divided into conducted sections and ones to be played ad libitum. The latter are not to be conducted except one beat to start playing or to pass on to the next section.
The quarter-tone passages in the solo part are so conceived and written that the separate notes could be heard and would not merge into glissandi.
—Peter Laki