First Concert of the 53rd Season

I. The Birth of Kijé
II. Romance
III. Kijé's Wedding
IV. Troika
V. The Burial of Kijé

Prelude (Heavily)
Poem (Quietly)
Interlude (Simply)
Capriccio (Brightly)
Dialogue (Delicately)
Burla (With drive)

Prelude - Song of the Fisherman
Ceremonial Dance
Dance of the Marionette
Interlude
Dance Under the Cherry Tree
Finale - Dance of the Wolves

Prokofiev was one of a long line of revered composers who produced film music, starting perhaps with Saint Saëns, and including Shostakovich, Vaughan Williams, Sir William Walton, Jacques Ibert, Virgil Thomson, Aaron Copland, and Leonard Bernstein.  Recently, the popularity of music written by composers heretofore known primarily as film-score producers has focused attention on their more "serious" music. I refer to people like Erich Korngold, Max Steiner, Bernard Herrmann, John Williams, and Miklós Rózsa.

Film music is a sort of black sheep of the musical family. Many critics consider it unworthy of comment. It is often said that film music, to serve its purpose, must of necessity, be bad music. That is, it must be unnoticed, so as not to detract from the screen activity. They say that when there is memorable film music, it is at the expense of the film. I would ask then, How can there be good operatic music?

Those of us who have a special fondness for film music commonly cite Prokofiev as proof that fine film music is possible, in conjunction with fine films, for example: Alexander Nevsky and Ivan the Terrible. That said, it must be admitted that Prokofiev, himself, believed that his music as written for the films was neither correctly structured nor adequately orchestrated for the concert hall. We hear Lieutenant Kijé in the revised concert version.

The name Kijé is the French spelling of what should be pronounced "kee-ZHEH." This is significant because the plot of the movie is based on a misinterpretation. Tsar Nicholas I receives a military report in which there is the phrase, "... Parootchiki, zheh ..." which means (approximately), "... the lieutenants, however..." (The "zheh" corresponds to the German "doch," and has no exact equivalent in English.) The Tsar misreads the phrase as "Parootchik Kizheh," (Lieutenant Kijé), and asks about the "brave lieutenant." To avoid embarrassing the monarch, his commanders continue to supply him with news of the exploits of the fictitious lieutenant. In efforts to conceal the deception, they get ever deeper. They conclude that the only way out of their dilemma is to kill off the hero.

I. Birth of Kijé (Allegro)
    A slow trumpet fanfare opens this section. It is followed by a drum-roll, and then a fife-and-drum theme that reminds us of toy soldiers. It is a simple theme, repeated with slight variations, and a difficult trumpet part.

II. Romance (Andante)
    This is a melancholy section, describing a love-affair, unhappy, of course. (Kijé is supposed to be Russian remember!). Originally, this part called for a baritone, but in the concert version, the voice is usually replaced by a bassoon. At first, we seem to hear Kijé moaning over his lost love. Then, the tone becomes more confident, as if to say, "There are plenty more fish in the sea!" After that, the music returns to a morose mood, as if to say, "But none like her!"

III. Kijé's Wedding (Allegro fastoso)
    The Tsar is saddened by Kijé's bad luck, so the Aides concoct a new romance which is more successful, culminated in marriage. The piece begins with a crash of the orchestra, and alternates between pompous pronouncements by full orchestra, and perky rhythms suggesting a wedding dance. There are variations featuring many instruments, including a very fluid part for trumpet.

IV. Troïka (Allegro con brio)
    After the wedding, the couple ride off in a "Troïka," a three-horse sleigh. The jogging gait of the horses has provided the rhythm for many Russian songs. A Russian hero must have a fondness for taverns, and here we have a drinking song, in the rhythm of the Troïka, sung to the couple by the driver, to the accompaniment of the sleigh bells and the cracking whip.

V. The Burial of Kijé
    The Aides solve their problem by having the imaginary lieutenant die a hero's death, by now, as a general. There is virtually no new music in this movement. It begins with the same fanfare we heard at the beginning of the suite, recalls several of the episodes of Kijé's life, and concludes with the final trumpet call.

Vincent Persichetti was born in Philadelphia. He has written at least eight symphonies, a series of six serenades, a concerto for piano (four hands), and many other works. His work sounds clearly "twentieth century," rather austere, but not as uncompromising as, say, William Schuman. One European source describes him as enjoying "...the esteem of a limited but cultured public."

A "serenade" was originally a song sung in the evening (sera means "evening" in Italian) to a young lady by a young many, or group, standing beneath her window. For some composers it still has amorous connotations. It came to mean, also, a suite of short pieces of contrasting nature, frequently featuring a sonata form, as in Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.

Breaking from tradition, Persichetti drops Italian and uses English to indicate the way the movements should be played:

Prelude (Heavily), Poem (Quietly), Interlude (Simpply), Capriccio (Brightly), Dialogue (Delicately), Burla (With Drive).

Persichetti's music flirts with atonality, but holds audience interest through driving rhythms and choppy bursts of sound. As promised, the movements vary considerably. The Prelude is choppy, the Poem is dreamy and atonal, the Interlude is waltz-like and folkloric. The Capriccio, featuring the woodwinds, has the choppiness of the Prelude. The Dialogue has a delicate, disjunctive melody characteristic of twentieth century writing, and the Burla is like a jaunty jig.

Gustav Holst was a British composer with an unusual reputation. Unusual in the sense that he is accepted in some quarters as an important contributor to British musical development, while in others, he is thought of as an uneven composer at best, second-rate at worst. In contrast, although musicians like Benjamin Britten, or Igor Stravinsky may be more admired by some than by others, there is a general agreement as to their stature in twentieth century music.

Holst fell under a succession of influences, some, typical for the age, others more idiosyncratic. Among the composers who most impressed him were Wagner, whose influence may be seen in Holst's rich orchestral color, and later, Stravinsky in his eventual rejection of sentiment in his music.

Other influences were Eastern philosophies, astrology, and British folk music. This latter has an affinity with oriental music. He was fascinated by the Dorian and Aeolian modes common to English folk songs, and their melodic simplicity meshed perfectly with his oriental tendencies as revealed in his many works related to Hindu writings.

Holst's best-known works are The Planets, a richly orchestrated rendering of the attributes of the Gods (not an astronomical work, but an astrological one), and the Suites for Band, based on folk songs.

The Japanese Suite is one of his many "Eastern" works. It was written at the request of the Japanese dancer Michio Ito, and is in six sections: Prelude -- song of the Fisherman, Ceremonial Dance, Dance of the Marionette, Interlude, Dance Under the Cherry Tree, and Finale -- Dance of the Wolves.

The work opens with the bassoon playing a mournful tune (Song of the Fisherman), immediately establishing the pentatonic character of the piece. The melody is repeated in the strings over an ostinato reminding us of koto music.

Except for one section, the thematic material used by Holst was supplied by Michio Ito, and it is interesting to see what a Westerner does orchestrally with Eastern thematic material.

Holst's critics might describe the second section as too theatrical. One can readily imagine it as background music to a war film, accompanying a shot of Japanese battleships steaming up the Sulu Straits!

It may be disappointing to realize the Dance of the Marionette is the only section that is pure Holst, since it is the most derivative of all, imitating rather blatantly the Dolls' Dance from Stravinsky's Petrushka, published two years earlier. However, one could also generously consider it a tip-of-the-hat to an admired contemporary.

The final section, Dance of the Wolves, is a frenetic, almost demonic piece, reminding us of the ballet music of Khatchaturian.