Fourth Concert of the 57th Season

Arutunian was born in Yerevan, Armenia. He studied at the Yerevan State Conservatory from 1936 until 1941. He studied privately in Moscow with Nikolai Peiko, Victor Zuckerman, and others, from 1946 to 1948. While there, he became acquainted with Miaskovski, Kabalevsky, Shostakovich, and Khatchaturian, and was influenced by them all, most obviously by the latter two.

Arutunian has written music in all the popular forms: concerto, symphony, overture, cantata, and dance suite, among others, but is not known for any particular genre (as Miaskovski and Shostakovich are known as symphonists). He seems to be quite a provincial, having returned to his home town of Yerevan, where he has remained ever since, as Director of the Armenian Philharmonic Society. His writings consist principally of articles for the local papers on the visits of Shostakovich and Benjamin Britten to Yerevan.

During the Soviet period his music was very nationalistic, and calculated to satisfy Marxist demands: Ours Is the Right Cause (1942), Triumphal March (1947), Symphonic Poem in Memory of Colonel Zakiyan (1948), Cantata about the Motherland (1949), Cantata about Lenin (1950), Tale about the Armenian People (1961).

From the beginning of the Concerto for Trumpet there is an unmistakable oriental flavor. Those familiar with the American composer Alan Hovhannes will notice the similarity, the linking factor being Armenian folk music. Themes are also very reminiscent of the Armenian composer Aram Khatchaturian, particularly of his Spartacus ballet, and the violin concerto. While this similarity might have resulted from a shared love of Armenian folk music rather than any direct influence of either of these composers on Arutunian, the striking flavor of Shostakovich smacks of imitation.

The traditional concerto usually has three distinct movements, and the orchestra often played for several minutes before the soloist entered. Nineteenth century composers of concerti continued to favor the three-movement form, with many exceptions, and often with no break between movements even when they were keeping to three. The soloist often entered immediately, with no orchestral introduction. Twentieth century composers expanded the form to allow more movements, or three movements with no breaks, with several instruments featured, including the human voice and xylophine (Bliss), or even for the whole orchestra -- in FIVE movements (Bartók).

Arutunian allows for an immediate trumpet entry. His work is all in one movement divided into three parts in terms of tempo. The quick, driving parts sound like Shostakovich of the Fifth Symphony. The slow, melodic parts sound like Khatchaturian, especially in the middle section of stretto overlapping of the theme. The work is hard to analyze in the conventional way. Sonata form seems to have been abandoned in favor of a looser rhapsodic form, perhaps a modified rondo. The piece is melodic, exotic, fun to listen to, and not particularly demanding of the listener.

Paul Creston (né giuseppe Guttoveggio) was a remarkable man. Unlike many contemporary composers, Creston had no degrees. He did not even finish high school. Born to a poor immigrant family in New York, he had to work at an early age, and is a self-taught composer. Creston's career was helped by two people in particular -- his wife, who was a dancer with the Martha Graham troupe, and who intensified his interest in rhythm, for which he is best known, and composer Henry Cowell, who knew another self-educated genius when he saw one. It was Cowell who introduced Creston to the public with a performance of one of his works at New York's New School for Social Research in 1934.

Creston received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1938, and the New York Music Critics' Circle Award for his Symphony No. 1 in 1941. For a proper appreciation of this achievement, one should know who the competitors were: Roy Harris, William Schuman, Morton Gould and Aaron Copland!

Creston's works are most notable for their rhythmic pulse, the occasional blue note (he once worked as a pianist for silent movies, and like popular music), and his modal writing, a reflection of his many years as a church organist and his love of Gregorian chant. Creston was unpretentious. His music is likeable, and easily accessible, as was Creston himself. In a letter to me, dated 1955, he wrote, "...I do not try to appeal only to musicians, thereby writing what I call laboratory pieces: interesting enough to dissect and analyze on paper, but of no true value in actual sound." (Although he would not attack other composers by name, he was speaking of Elliott Carter.)

Creston worked in traditional forms (his string quartet is a model of classical structure), and produced five symphonies, he promoted the use of instruments no usually thought of as belonging to the traditional symphoy orchestra. He wrote a Sonata for Saxophone and Piano, and this Concertino for Marimba, both featuring instruments more commonly associated with popular music.

Creston's typically dramatic (read "loud") orchestral writing presents dynamic problems with the relatively soft marimba. The work opens loud, fast, and dissonant, with the brass supported by a rhythm in the strings. There are hints of Gershwin early on, before the music settles into a march beat. The marimba enters with a jaunty tune in dotted rhythm, and the orchestra quiets down. The movement consists of alternating orchestral outbursts with quiet marimba interludes. As in the work by Arutunian, not much development can be heard here, and the movement is held together more by the rhythmic motif than by a thematic one.

Fantaisie was written as a test piece by Hüe when he was a student at the Paris Conservatoire. The great flutist Marcel Moyse liked it well enough to record it in 1928, after which it fell into obscurity. A copy was later discovered in the Paris "Flea Market" and it was again recorded, this time by William Bennett.

Its French origin should be immediately apparent. Debussy's Afternoon of a Faun springs to mind. Although Afternoon of a Faun was written in 1875, it was almost unknown to both public and musicians. It wasn't until ballet impresario Diaghilev staged it with Nijinksy dancing in a "shamefully bestial" manner that it became famous. This was in 1912. Hüe wrote his Fantaisie in 1913.

It's possible that Hüe was merely "paying homage" to Debussy with his work, since after a few obvious references to him, the music becomes a bit more original.