Mozart Rarities -- A Salzburg Celebration
Fourth Annual Benefit for The Hospice of Cambridge
Saturday, May 31, 1997 at 8:00 pm.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
Venite Populi, K. 260
Regina Coeli, K. 276
Litaniae Lauretanae, K. 109
Dixit et Magnificat, K. 193
Vesperae Solennes de Dominica, K. 321
Texts and translations Review from The Boston Globe
Program Notes
Mozart's years in Salzburg produced some of this miraculous composer's most memorable compositions. Music for the church looms large in this period, and tonight's concert embraces works which span the years 1771-1779. Even at age 15, this remarkable individual was creating works of genius far beyond that of any of his peers -- works which today still astonish for their precociousness, ingenuity, and almost impertinent mastery.
This is music of a manic intensity -- so highly-charged that Colin Davis once referred to it as having "appalling adolescent energy." Why may this be so?
This was among the very last music for the church that Mozart wrote while in residence at Salzburg. Archbishop Colloredo had required that Mozart not repeat text, keep his church music free from unnecessary effects, and always be subservient to the liturgy. For a composer of Mozart's gifts of expression, this must have been extremely difficult. There was precious little room for his creative imagination to take flight. Perhaps as a result of these constraints, he focused all of his energies straight forward, and attempted to project all his pent-up energy toward rapid declamation of the text. It must have rankled him sorely, and I firmly believe that some of that frustration is audible in the impassioned excitement of much of this work. This is not to say that these works ever veer into coarseness or mere nervous energy. That rarely if ever occurs in this composer's music. There is palpable pressure, but always concentrated in a firmly muscular and life-affirming direction.
Offertorium de Venerabili Sacramento "Venite Populi" a due chori, K. 260/248a, is a rare example of Mozart's writing for two choruses. His "Great" Missa in C-minor and the subsequent Davide Penitente, K. 469, are the most familiar examples, though of much later vintage. The Baroque polychoral music of Venice was in vogue in Salzburg in the 1600s, and Venite Populi indulges in several Venetian hallmarks -- antiphonal/echo effects in the work's slower middle section, and highly contrasted rapid-fire counterpoint tossed back and forth between the two choruses. The unusual text is anonymous. While no one would argue that Venite Populi is a neglected masterwork, it is, in fact, neglected, but as of tonight, no longer.
The sunny C-major Regina Coeli, K. 276, is the last of three settings Mozart made of this antiphon in praise of the Virgin. Its autograph score is lost so its date of composition is conjectural. Scholars believe that its stylistic similarities to the precisely dated Dominican Vespers place it as a work from 1779. Among its many felicities is the thrice-repeated "Alleluia" whose rhythm immediately recalls in the listener a somewhat familiar chorus by Handel, though it is thought unlikely that Mozart knew Messiah in 1779. That he indeed later knew and admired Messiah is evidenced by his elegant re-orchestration of it in 1789.
The remarkable Litaniae de B.M.V. (Lauretanae), K. 109, dating from Mozart's 15th year, draws its text from a verse prayed by a Marian cult in Loreto, Italy and blessed by Pope Sixtus V in 1587. Perhaps the most unusual element of this composition is the apparent deepening and growth of the composer's creative powers as the work progresses. It begins forthrightly enough with appropriately upbeat tempi and melodies. In the soprano/alto dialogue of the second movement a foretaste of the Recordare of Mozart's final work, his beloved Requiem, is evident. But shortly after the beginning of the Agnus Dei, the mood palpably darkens and we enter a noticeably more somber sphere at the text "miserere nobis." This profundity of expression is all the more poignant for our having been so unprepared for this change of emotion. We've truly traveled a long way from the carefree beginning of this most unusual and unusually moving work. And the most amazing wonder is that this emotional and artistic profundity was present in the mind and soul of a 15-year old boy.
Relentless energy abounds in the Dixit et Magnificat, K. 193. In fact, there's hardly a moment allowed for mere mortal choral singers to catch a breath, so forward-charging is this highly-charged music. Here, at age 17, Mozart had coalesced his abundant talents in an almost streamlined setting of an already "busy" text, and enhanced it with an equally concentrated music. The first and last parts of a traditional six-part vesper set are employed. It is unclear why the composer set only these "bookend" texts, though some conjecture that other composers had supplied the "missing" middle psalms. A look at the score, almost black with notes for orchestra and chorus, gives an idea of the heroic demands this "little" work places on its performers. But the effort truly rewards listener and performer alike with abundant optimism and life-affirming energy. Of special interest are Mozart's settings of "Fecit potentiam in brachio suo" and the triumphant pair of "Gloria" which unfurl like colorful pennants held aloft in a brisk, enlivening breeze.
The Dominican Solemn Vespers is such a forbidding sounding title that many lovers of exuberant choral music by Mozart may be put off from sampling this most delicious of Mozartean feasts. But behind this title awaits one of the sunniest and most highly-concentrated of Mozart's Salzburg choral works and one of this composer's most spectacular soprano "concert" arias. The title may actually be a misnomer according to Thomas Dunn, who has written that the correct title should be Vesperae Solennes de Confessore non Pontifice. He also suggests that the presently accepted title is actually from Leopold Mozart, the composer's father, presumably to help distinguish between the two sets of Solemn Vespers. Names notwithstanding, this extraordinary work, which unfairly languishes in the shadow of its better-known later twin -- The Solemn Vespers of the Confessor -- provides the model for its older brother, yet yields nothing in spectacular choral energy and dramatic effect. One might argue that the later setting of Laudate Dominum offers greater sublimity than the joyous and festive setting it is accorded here. But once heard, the Dominican Vespers rightly demands "equal time" from its performers and audiences.
In any event, the work begins without introduction, and plunges headlong in medias res. The first Psalm (109/110) begins in a radiant C major and is distinguished by vigorus declamations from both orchestra and chorus. Two fermate provide dramatic though brief respite at key points in the text, and with abundant word painting and an admirable economy of means we're energetically carried to the end of the first chorus.
Again without introduction, the second Psalm (110/111) set in E-minor begins at a more deliberate tempo with soprano solo answered by a very interesting triadic choral crescendo, complemented shortly by sequential falling 16ths from the strings. Solo voices provide a calm moment near the middle only to be interrupted by a forte/fortissimo choral interjection reminding us on a frightening unison of the "...terribile nomen ejus." The movement closes quietly, but retains its pervasive agitato feeling to the last note. The third Psalm (111/112) takes off with unflagging energy in B-flat major and throughout is filled with the most extraordinary variety of dramatic and dynamic contrasts. Soloists regularly engage in animated dialogue with the chorus, but it's left to the chorus and orchestra to bring the movement to its affirmative "Amen."
Laudate Pueri, the next Psalm, is set in a sunny, bright F-major stile antico imitative counterpoint, unlike its subsequent setting in Mozart's Solemn Vespers of the Confessor which is set in D-minor, quasi-modal harmony, and distinguished by intervals of a falling seventh. Here the mood is palpably more upbeat, yet no less effective. Key phrases of the text are illuminated and underscored by powerful choral homophony.
Psalm 116/117, Laudate Dominum, is set in A-major as a brilliant Neapolitan-style concert aria for soprano solo, its high-spiritedness enhanced with a frisky organ obbligato.
The bold and festive Magnificat in C-major begins in slow tempo with themes and orchestration reminiscent of the much later Die Zauberflöte. Extrovert subito pianissimi for both chorus and orchestra twice interrupt the first word of the text, an effect which surely must have raised not a few Salzburgian ecclesiastical eyebrows! A vigorous interjection by trumpets and timpani brings us briskly back to earth, and we embark upon an extraordinary finale which, with its bustling strings and heightened dramatic writing for chorus and solo voices could just as well be the close of an Opera Buffa. The action is soon interrupted by powerful unisons which lead to the Gloria, which is highlighted by further buffa effects such as sudden string fortepiani and playful downward violin arpeggi. And as in the best of opera finales, everything begins to converge, and with brilliant unisons for orchestra and chorus combined at the text "Amen," this marvelous work comes to an emphatic and life-affirming close.
Copyright (c) 1997 by John W. Ehrlich
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