Zoltán Kodály (1882-1967)
Dances of Galánta
Galánta is a small town about twenty-five miles east of Bratislava, in what is now Slovakia. Kodály spent seven years of his childhood there (his father was the local station-master), and it was the scene of his first folk-song collecting expedition in 1905. The town’s gypsy band had a wide reputation, and a collection of its traditional tunes was published in Vienna about 1800.
In 1933 Kodály was commissioned to write an orchestral piece to mark the eightieth anniversary of the Budapest Philharmonic Society. In response he produced what has since become one of his most popular works, based on tunes from that 1800 collection.
A slow introduction ends with a short cadenza for solo clarinet, an instrument which plays an important role throughout the piece. The cadenza leads directly into the first dance, a stately tune which has the characteristically jerky rhythm of the verbunkos, a dance traditionally associated with village recruiting fairs. This returns between the remaining dances giving the work a rondo-like shape.
Flutes and piccolo take the lead in the quicker second dance, which culminates in a passionate, fully-scored re-appearance of the verbunkos melody. As this dies down, a graceful new dance starts up on solo oboe, with violin harmonics and glockenspiel contributing to Kodály’s engagingly delicate scoring. Only a few bars of the verbunkos link this to the next dance, characterised by its syncopated rhythm. Considerable excitement builds, but it all stops abruptly for a slower section with a perky clarinet tune over a heavy, low-pitched accompaniment.
Gradually the tempo picks up again, and we are whirled into the headlong excitement of the final section, to which the syncopated idea from the earlier dance makes its contribution. It is interrupted just before the end by a quiet reminiscence of the verbunkos, before the last exhilarating flourish.
© Mike Wheeler
György Ligeti (1923-2006)
Hamburg Concerto for horn and chamber orchestra (1999 rev. 2002)
György Ligeti (1923-2006) is one the leading and most distinctive composers of the last century. He was born in Hungary but did not have much impact on the musical world until he escaped to the West in 1956 where he met Stockhausen. Ligeti was never part of the Darmstadt avant garde school of the 1950s and 1960s, and was more interested in finding his own solution to the problems of composing within a Modernist aesthetic. His most well-known music is that which is primarily textural, and uses what he described as ‘micropolyphony’; a highly complex and dense canonic music. This music became widely known through its use in Stanley Kubrick’s film 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) for which Ligeti did not originally get paid.
The Hamburg Concerto is from Ligeti’s late period but still shows many features from his earlier music, such as an interest in texture, timbre and micro-tunings. Ligeti’s later music, from the opera Le Grand Macabre (1974-78) onwards, shows a much more eclectic approach to compositional technique, with influences from Sub-Saharan music, the music of the American composer Conlon Nancarrow, and embracing elements of the music of the past. The result was that Ligeti’s music became much more approachable and tonal at times, but also quite unpredictable.
The most distinctive aspect of the Hamburg Concerto is its use of natural harmonics in the solo and quartet of natural horns (ones without valves). The natural harmonics are those notes that you get on any brass instrument from one length of the tubing, and the higher harmonics do not fit into the usual equal tempered tuning system. These harmonics, when combined, and with equal tempered instruments, produce ‘dirty’ harmonies which Ligeti has often used in his music. Ligeti comments that “these harmonies, which have never been used before, sound ‘weird’ in relation to harmonic spectra.”
Ligeti had written for the solo horn before in the Horn Trio (1982), in which the reflective and romantic aspect of the instrument is emphasised with echoes of Brahms’s Horn Trio. But in the Concerto there is a greater allusion to the hunting horn, for example in the second movement 'Signale, Tanz, Choral' and in the sixth movement 'Capriccio'.
Overall, the Hamburg Concerto is a bewildering array of highly characterised short, sketch-like movements exploring many of Ligeti’s styles. Although the work is apparently in seven movements, movements 2, 3, and 4 are divided into three or four clear sections – thus the work is really in 14 movements over 15 minutes. There is almost no development of the material, and the ideas are exposed very briefly before the movement ends. This approach is reminiscent of that in Ligeti’s three books of piano Études (1985-2001) in which each short étude is self-contained with one basic musical idea. The variety of styles include very static sustained music in the 'Praeludium' which hints at Ligeti’s earlier micropolyphonic works such as Lontano. 'Capriccio' starts in a very lively carefree fashion but later the movement abruptly changes mood, and Ligeti quotes his poignant ‘lament motive’ which consists of a descending chromatic line used in earlier works such as the Horn Trio. The final movement 'Hymnus' creates a shattering climax through a gradual evolution towards very loud and close microtonal harmony in the horns.
© Mike Searby
Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904)
Symphony No. 5 in F major (1875)
I: Allegro ma non troppo
II: Andante con moto
III: Andante con moto, quasi l'istesso tempo - Allegro scherzando
IV: Finale: Allegro molto
Dvořák’s ascent to fame was a swift one, helped in no small part by a stipend he received from the Austrian Government in 1874. The young Dvořák, at that time working as an orchestral violist and church organist, submitted a number of his works to a judging committee that included both Johannes Brahms and the critic Eduard Hanslick. He was successful – winning a significant stipend not just that year, but also in 1876 and 1877, and with the help of Brahms and Hanslick he also found a publisher for his music. Buoyed by his successes, 1875 proved to be one of the most creatively fertile years of his life, with the completion of his opera Vanda, his first Piano Trio and Piano Quartet, his second String Quintet, the Serenade for Strings, a handful of other chamber music, and his Fifth Symphony.
At this early stage in his career, Dvořák’s works conformed to a popular ‘nationalist’ style, with the use of ‘exotic’ Czech folksong proving an easy – perhaps even opportunistic – method of attracting the attention of the critics, which were dominated by the Austro-Germanic provinces. But beneath the veneer of this folk style, Dvořák’s works display a cyclical coherence not seen since Beethoven, and his rigorous approach to form signals his clear allusions to Brahms and the symphonic tradition. His Fifth Symphony in F major marks a milestone in his development as a composer, for the first time marrying the Czech folksong of his earlier years with a mature command of symphonic form. While many of his earlier works bear the traces of Wagnerian harmonic colouring and Mahlerian motivic design, in the Fifth Symphony Dvořák finally seems comfortable with his own voice.
Though not specifically a programmatic symphony, the pastoral key (F major) sets the tone for a pastoral work, which begins with a buoyant Allegro and pairs of woodwinds – first clarinets, then flutes – introduce the chirruping, bird-like opening theme. The vibrant woodland scene is set and the winds are quickly joined by the full orchestra in what amounts to a rich panorama of the surrounding landscape. By contrast, the melancholy Andante in A minor that follows opens with a sombre melody for the cellos – borrowed, it appears, from the opening movement of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto, which was completed earlier the same year. Whether Dvořák might have heard Tchaikovsky’s work before completing his own is unclear, but Dvořák’s treatment of theme is altogether more tender than that of his contemporary, spinning out the similar four-note motive into a much softer, languorous slow movement. The slow movement eventually comes to a firm close after a final glimpse of the four-note motive, but in a cyclical Beethovenian move, Dvořák briefly reprises the theme at the opening of the third movement. This reprise segues into the sprightly Allegro scherzando, which once more returns us to the pastoral landscape, so it is quite a shock when this graceful dance concludes and we are launched head-first into the tumultuous finale – which begins, unexpectedly, in A minor. It remains for the finale to find its way back to the tonic of F major – a battle that occupies the whole of the last movement and which endures as one of Dvořák’s most breathtaking and innovative symphonic moments.
© Jo Kirkbride
Millions ‘discovered’ Ligeti without realising it when Kubrick peppered the soundtrack of 2001: A Space Odyssey with his work. It gave him popular success, and few would dispute that he is one of the five most important composers of the past 40 years. Here is a chance, over two weeks, to hear two very different but equally fine scores by him. The ‘Hamburg’ Concerto pays tribute to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. Ticciati performs it with popular favourites from Central Europe.
Sir Charles Mackerras conducts the Scottish Chamber Orchestra in Kodály's Dances of Galánta. Buy from the SCO Online Shop

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