Barber: Capricorn Concerto / A Hand of Bridge / Canzonetta / Intermezzo
$9.99
(COMPACT DISC)
In Stock - Usually ships within 24 hours.
Just copy this code and paste it where you want the link on your website:
Samuel Barber (1910-1981) Capricorn Concerto A Hand of Bridge Intermezzo from Vanessa Born and raised in Westchester, an upscale suburb of New York City, in...
Samuel Barber (1910-1981)
Capricorn Concerto A Hand of Bridge Intermezzo from Vanessa
Born and raised in Westchester, an upscale suburb of
New York City, in 1910, Samuel Barber was something
of a phenomenon, a true musical prodigy. He studied
somewhat cursorily with his uncle, the composer Sidney
Homer, but, even at a precociously early age, Barber
was a natural born musician: he could sing beautifully,
play the piano, and began composing when he was eight
years old, a year after he began to play the pipe organ
with enough proficiency to accompany services. The
year was 1918, and his opus one was, appropriately
enough, War Song, for solo piano, a piece favoured by a
Bach-style cross relation dissonance of a C sharp on a C
natural, the sort of harmonic "crunch" which would
eventually become a benchmark of Barber's style.
When eventually Barber enrolled in the Curtis
Institute, where he was a member of the founding class,
he was the single best and brightest student; his skills at
the piano were remarkable, his singing voice angelic and
rich (a sombre baritone which has been captured on
record singing his own Dover Beach) and his
compositions downright sophisticated. His classmates
jokingly referred to the "three B's" of classical music:
Bach, Beethoven and Barber. His refined technique and
very personal style would go on to make him one of the
most important composers of his day, even as high
modernism took hold not only of the academies (all
seemed either to follow Boulez or rue the consequences
in those chaotic times) but of the concert platform as
well. Barber, though his music was much beloved (and
not just the Adagio for Strings), would bear the mantle
of recherche, slightly backwards. The end of his life was
rather sad, when, after the failure on a grand scale of his
opera Antony and Cleopatra (composed to open the new
Metropolitan Opera house, and riddled with enough
disasters to make for interesting reading), Barber all but
disappeared, composing little save a few songs and
dying more sad and overlooked than a genius of his
stature deserved.
During World War II, Barber served in the military,
though his musical talent was well known; he was even
called, by Newsweek, "...the most outstanding
American serious composer in uniform", and he had
several fellow officers lobbying on his behalf that he be
granted a post which allowed him more space to work
He wanted nothing more than to return to his routine of
composition, and was ultimately granted a more
permissive line of service which enabled him to return to
his longtime companion Gian-Carlo Menotti, whom he
met in his Curtis days, and to Capricorn, his wonderful
hearth and home, so named for the fantastic light it got
during the winter. It was there and then he wrote his
Capricorn Concerto, scored for the same instruments as
Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No 2, solo trumpet, oboe,
flute, with an accompanying string complement.
The music itself is something of a departure for
Barber, bandying between playful, insistent baroque
textures and a more lyrical, more melodically driven
composition, though Barber is still Barber, a melodist
and a modernist alike. Allegedly each member of the
Capricorn household, Barber, Menotti, and Chip,
Menotti's adopted son, is represented with their own
individual theme, thematically depicting each of their
personalities. The first movement flits between two
tempi, Allegro (fast) and Andante con moto (walking
speed, but with motion), and is cast in a rondo form,
with development being the driving force, Barber's
spotless compositional technique on full display. The
second movement is playful, save for one tranquil
passage, favoured by a boisterous line for plucked viola,
while the final movement, Barber's most direct homage
to Bach, features a trumpet fanfare in its spirited midst.
In 1958 Menotti founded the still-extant Spoleto
festival, an annual event taking place in his home
country of Italy, and liked to present, Cabaret style, a
programme called Album Leaves, wherein artists of
varying stripes presented short pieces (or poems or
plays) composed for the occasion, the most notable of
which is Barber's A Hand of Bridge, a nine minute
bitchy witty "opera" with a libretto by Menotti. In this
short piece, scored for four soloists and chamber
orchestra, are biographical references to members of the
Barber-Menotti intimate circle, a trick Menotti employs
in many of his libretti. The story is a quick psychodrama,
with the four characters both playing bridge with one
another and playing out, in their minds, what they think
of the others at the table. Barber cleverly uses dry
recitative style to set the literal moments of card-play,
pitting them against lusher, quasi-arias to outline their
inner thoughts. Their friends Chuck Turner, Thomas
Schippers, and Christopher, Barber's nephew, do not
escape the knife of the satire, and Barber, in his most
vulgar mode, does not shy away from "jazzy" swung
rhythms or overly psychological music, all demanded by
the short but cutting drama.
In the last years of his life, Barber went reclusive,
hiding out in his Upper East Side apartment, writing
small pieces for nobody in particular, his relationship
with Menotti long a thing of the past, his opera a
colossal disaster, and his orchestral pieces getting less
and less play. Though commissions were offered, he
was reluctant to accept, not wanting to bind himself to
anything, and more than likely sick of the rat race of the
day. But he did manage to write some wonderful pieces
simply for the joy of composing, including the subdued
Mutations from Bach (sometimes called Meditations on
a theme from Bach), a sombre work for four horns, three
trumpets, three trombones, tuba and timpani. Here he
pays homage to a composer to whom he always felt very
close: the plainsong Christ, thou lamb of God is played
four times, in four different versions from history,
presented chronologically. The earliest is a
harmonization, which Barber, of course, scored for this
brass ensemble, from 1604 by Joachim Decker, the
second is Bach's, taken from Cantata 23, followed by a
version Bach reworked into a complex fugue in an organ
prelude, the third is Barber's own, making use of a
muted trumpet, and the final returns to Decker's own.
The piece was not intended to be for any group,
occasion, or specific performance. Rather was it
something that no doubt brewed in Barber's head for
some time, a tribute, at the end of his life, to his
favourite composer.
The Metropolitan Opera in New York City had been
after Barber for some time to make a big opera for their
company, but for various reasons (mostly unsuitable
libretti) he declined. When he accepted, he wanted to
make (with Menotti) a truly "American" work, but
settled on something a little more European--a wholly
original work called Vanessa. The story itself, of a
woman whose lover returns to her snowy abode after
years of absence and then promptly falls in love with her
daughter, is tonally rooted in Isak Dennisen's Seven
Gothic Tales, but it was Menotti and Barber who
collectively dreamed it up. At the height of the pathosridden
action in the third (and final) act of Vanessa lies
the intermezzo - a plangent-yet-energetic orchestral
interlude, perhaps depicting the passage of the two
weeks that happens between the preceding and
following scenes. In context, it depicts Vanessa, the
elder, spurned woman; as an orchestral extract, it is
haunting and gorgeous, tense and easygoing, as
beautiful an orchestral fantasia as Barber ever wrote.
In the years following Barber's catastrophic opera
Antony and Cleopatra, his second commission from the
Metropolitan Opera, Barber was more of a reluctant
composer. He sank into a depression, into an alcoholic
despair, only rising sporadically to write a piece. One of
these, Fadograph of a Yestern Scene, is a singlepanelled
orchestral work. The title comes from James
Joyce's Finnegan's Wake, one of Barber's favourite
books, but the music comes more out of Debussy than
any of his other works, slow, impressionistic washes of
sound, large forces yet a spare texture. The Pittsburgh
Symphony commissioned it, and it was the last
orchestral work of any scope Barber wrote.
As Barber was dying, he was trying to complete a
concerto for oboe and orchestra, requested from him by
Harold Gomberg, who played in the New York
Philharmonic. Originally Barber envisioned a multimovement
work, but as he knew he would not live to
finish it, he settled on a single movement, a
Canzonetta--and he did not quite live even to finish
this; Charles Turner, Barber's only student, took up the
task of completing it. "In its limited way", writes
Barbara Heyman, Barber's biographer, "the Canzonetta
offers an appropriate elegy to the conclusion of Barber's
career". The tonality of the work embraces every device
Barber loved, from late Romanticism to the more
astringent modernist sounds, and his "vocal" writing for
the oboe betrays his deep, lifelong affinity for the voice.
This final work is almost a winnowing down of Barber's
total musical self, a beautiful, intimate, quiet final
offering.
Daniel Felsenfeld
Capricorn Concerto, Op. 21 (more info)
-
I. Allegro ma non troppo - 6:28
-
II. Allegretto - 3:01
-
III. Allegro con brio - 4:40
A Hand of Bridge, Op. 35 (more info)
-
A Hand of Bridge - 9:44
Mutations from Bach (more info)
-
Mutations from Bach - 5:43
Vanessa, Op. 32 (more info)
-
Vanessa, Op. 32: Intermezzo - 4:26
Canzonetta, Op. 48 (more info)
-
Canzonetta for Oboe and Strings - 8:46
Fadograph of a Yestern Scene, Op. 44 (more info)
-
Fadograph of a Yestern Scene, Op. 44 - 9:40