Beethoven Concertos Booklet - · PDF fileCD 2 [70’20] Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37(1803?) [36’21] 1 I. Allegro con brio 16’49 cadenza: Beethoven, 1809 2 II. Largo

980 046-5

PRINCIPAL SUPPORTERBEETHOVEN PIANO CONCERTOS PROJECT

Gerard WillemsSTUART & SONS PIANO

S I N F O N I A AU S T R A L I S

Antony Walker

COMPLETEP I A N OCONCERTOS

Beethoven Concertos Booklet 31/10/03 8:47 AM Page 1

3


S I N F O N I A AU S T R A L I S

Antony Walker

COMPLETEP I A N OCONCERTOS


CD 2 [70’20]

Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37 (1803?) [36’21]1 I. Allegro con brio 16’49

cadenza: Beethoven, 18092 II. Largo 10’053 III. Rondo. Allegro 9’21

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G, Op. 58 (1804-6) [33’53]4 I. Allegro moderato 18’45

cadenza: Beethoven, 1809 (No. 1)5 II. Andante con moto 5’086 III. Rondo. Vivace 9’57

cadenza: Beethoven, 1809

CD 3 [39’48]

Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat, Op. 73, ‘Emperor’ (1809) [39’48]1 I. Allegro 20’512 II. Adagio un poco moto 8’073 III. Rondo. Allegro 10’46

5

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN 1770-1827

COMPLETE PIANO CONCERTOS

CD 1 [68’30]

Piano Concerto No. 1 in C, Op. 15 (1795, rev. 1800) [39’20]1 I. Allegro con brio 18’29

cadenza: Beethoven, 1809 (No. 1)

2 II. Largo 11’363 III. Rondo. Allegro scherzando 9’10

Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat, Op. 19 (c. 1787-1801) [29’03]4 I. Allegro con brio 14’09

cadenza: Beethoven, 1809

5 II. Adagio 8’436 III. Rondo. Molto allegro 6’05

4


country’s cultural aspirations. Together withABC Classics and their gifted recordingproducer, Stephen Snelleman, we recordedthe concertos over five weekends betweenOctober 2002 and July 2003, juggling theschedules of 50 musicians in the process.

The Beethoven recording project thatcommenced in 1997 has seen some of thegreatest music ever written for the pianogiven a unique, Australian voice. The collab-oration between an Australian pianist playingan instrument designed and manufacturedin Australia, and Australian musiciansconducted by a talented Australian hasbreathed new life into these famous works.As he did with the sonatas, Gerard Willemshas shown his absolute authority andcommand of all the technical and musicalchallenges of Beethoven’s scores. HisNapoleonic interpretation of the first

movement of the ‘Emperor’ announces aclimax befitting these five concertos, just ashis powerful recording of the composer’slast sonata, Opus 111, crowned the sonatarecordings.

In the years between 1997 and 2003,Gerard Willems has completed an odysseyof extraordinary breadth, placing on thepublic record his deep affinity with the 32piano sonatas and the five piano concertosof arguably the greatest composer. In all, 12CDs, with a DVD of the ‘Emperor’ Concertoto be released in 2004. A phenomenalachievement by a great Australian artist.

Brendan WardExecutive Producer

November 2003

7

Once Gerard Willems had completedhis recordings of Beethoven’s 32 piano

sonatas in 1999, I asked him what he wantedto do next. He answered immediately: “Thefive concertos.” No persuasion required thistime, unlike three years earlier when it tookme nearly six months to convince him torecord the sonatas.

It is, of course, the logical step, to movefrom the beauty and grace of the soloinstrument, which is in many respects themost exposed journey a performing artistcan undertake, to the collaboration with anorchestra where soloist, conductor andensemble have to play as one – provided thepianist is prepared to continue the rigoursof recording, and the producer can find anorchestra and conductor willing to join them.The latter took 18 months. Throughout this sometimes frustrating period, RobertPatterson, Head of ABC Classics, continuedto introduce Sinfonia Australis and AntonyWalker into our conversations. Like thename Gerard Willems some six years earlier,these names meant nothing to me, butRobert finally persuaded me to talk to Antonyto see if a collaboration was possible.

The first thing that struck me aboutAntony was his obvious passion for themusic of Beethoven, and his hunger to jointhis landmark project. He described his

enthusiastic orchestra and their dedicationto their art and their work ethic, importantingredients if the unique demands wewould confront in the recording studio wereto be overcome. Fortunately, Antony andGerard shared similar conceptions of theconcertos, the conductor also displaying ahealthy respect for the pianist’s profoundunderstanding of Beethoven. Their relation-ship had to be, as Gerard said, “almost likea marriage”. And it was.

Sinfonia Australis, as I quickly learnt, isa remarkable orchestra, comprising many ofthe country’s finest players. Under theleadership of Classical era specialist, AnnaMcDonald, the thick, late-Romantic soundoften associated with these works has beenreplaced with a fresh, clean and crisp attackwhich reflects the period during which theseworks were written, and aligns perfectlywith the fortepiano-like clarity and soundof the Stuart piano. Yet, like the piano, theorchestra belongs to the 21st century.

The final piece in the jigsaw was thesponsorship. An ensemble of between 40and 50 professional musicians costs a greatdeal, and throughout this stage of the project,I was loyally supported by Graeme Johnand Stephen Walter of Australia Post – bothfirm believers in the need for big corporationsto back artistic endeavours that reflect the

6


Throughout my life I have drawninspiration from the knowledge that

my forebears and Beethoven share the samebirthplace, in what is today northern Belgium.Perhaps this connection is why Beethovenhas been a focal point for my artistry, why Ifeel so close to this great composer’s oeuvre.Therefore, following the recording of the32 sonatas, I believed it was inevitable thatI would record the five piano concertos.

While the sonatas are intimate expressionsof Beethoven’s development of musical form,key relationships and musical textures, theconcertos are works on a much larger scalewith a wider range of emotions. Above all, theyare meant for performance on the big stage.

They range from the Mozart andHaydn influenced No. 2, to the emotionallypowerful No. 5, better known as the ‘Emperor’.The slow movements of these concertos are, without exception, their most sublimemoments. Here I am reminded of the greatBeethoven pianist Artur Schnabel’s reply whenasked what made him such a genius whenplaying Beethoven: “I play the notes like manyother pianists but it is in the pauses betweenthe notes where the art resides.”

The collaboration with Antony Walkerhas been most rewarding as we both sharethe same enthusiasm and attitude towardsinterpretation and expression. In particular

we have reviewed the articulation and phrasingas set out in the latest Henle Urtext andBärenreiter editions. His extensive knowledgeof music from the Classical era has added tothe freshness and musical integrity of theinterpretations in these performances.

For these recordings, I again chose theStuart piano. This instrument combines theclarity, refinement and tonal range that theseconcertos demand, from the mellifluous tothe monumental, from Classical restraint toRomantic fervour. Above all, it possessesthe right sound to blend perfectly with theorchestra, Sinfonia Australis, led by AnnaMcDonald. The brass and timpani sectionsplay instruments similar to those fromBeethoven’s era, and all sections articulatein the Classically informed manner.

Working with these talented anddedicated musicians was a truly wonderfulexperience. I hope you enjoy the result.

Gerard WillemsNovember 2003

98


Concerto for harpsichord or fortepianocomposed by Ludwig van Beethoven, agedtwelve years”). The understatement of his agehas been blamed on his father as a deliberateploy to exaggerate his precociousness. WhenBeethoven had first appeared in public inCologne in 1778, playing “various concertosand trios”, his father publicised the concert asby “his little son of six years.” However, it mayhave been a genuine mistake on Beethoven’spart – incredibly Beethoven spent most of hislife not knowing his true birth year. It is also clear that parts of what we now callBeethoven’s Second Piano Concerto, theConcerto in B-flat, Opus 19, existed in variousformats during Beethoven’s teen years inBonn. All of this concerto activity sitscomfortably with this ambivalent early stage ofBeethoven’s musical career in Bonn. If he wasto be a performer, he would, like all soloists ofthe time, need some concertos of his owncomposition: if a composer, he needed to beable to promote his compositional talent in thesame way that his older contemporary Mozartwas doing more or less at that very moment inVienna – by playing his own works atsubscription concerts.

In discussing the intersection of perform-ance and composition in the late years of

the 18th century it is important to realise thatnot only were these activities not incompatible,they were actually indistinguishable in theone activity in which both Mozart andBeethoven were held to be supreme, that is,in improvisation. Improvisation carried alegendary mystique in the late 18th centuryand, as Tia DeNora has recently shown,played a substantial role in establishingBeethoven’s reputation soon after he arrivedin Vienna.

Carl Czerny chronicled an anecdotetold him by his father about an earlyimprovisation ‘contest’ between Beethovenand the pianist Joseph Gelinek, famous as acomposer of light variations. He wasinvited to a party where he was to oppose aforeign virtuoso in a pianistic duel. Thenext day, when asked how it went: “‘Oh!’said Gelinek, completely dejected, ‘I won’tforget yesterday! That young man ispossessed of the devil. Never have I heardsuch playing! He improvised on a theme Iproposed like I never heard even Mozartimprovise. Then he played compositions of his own, which are wonderful andgrandiose to the highest degree, and heachieves difficulties and effects at the pianosuch as we have never even dreamed of.’”

1

11

Beethoven’s Piano Concertos

Beethoven was a pianist and he was alsoa composer. Even today, of course, there

is nothing incompatible about these roles.However, in Beethoven’s case, the two didnot always move comfortably in parallel.Financial constraints, the early demands offamily and career, and, most importantly,his later deafness created tension betweenperforming and composing which waseventually resolved decisively in favour ofthe latter. The five surviving complete pianoconcertos shadow this tension, followinghis career as a pianist from its brilliant startto its melancholy decline. Although Beethoventhe composer was eventually triumphant,Beethoven the public pianist more or lessexited around 1808, after premiering hisFourth Concerto, as deafness increasinglymade public performance impractical andhumiliating. Louis Spohr described anisolated return to the platform for a charityperformance of the Archduke Trio in 1814and noted that the composer’s legendaryvirtuosity was all but gone and that Beethovendidn’t notice how out of tune the pianowas. Having given the premieres of all hisearlier concertos, Beethoven was obliged tohand over the Vienna premiere of the Fifth(the so-called ‘Emperor’) to his 21-year-oldpupil, Carl Czerny. His one late-period attempt

to return to the concerto genre, an incompletePiano Concerto in D (Hess 15), provisionallyreconstructed by Beethoven scholar NicholasCook though not recorded here, is almostcruelly symbolic of this situation. After anorderly orchestral opening, it peters out abouthalfway through the soloist’s exposition, asthough Beethoven, his old confidence gone,suddenly realised he could no longer hearwhat he was playing. Equally symptomaticof the tension between his performing andcompositional activities are the concertosfrom his teenage years in Bonn, all of whichsurvive in fragmentary form, some leftunfinished by Beethoven, others either lostor recycled into later music. MaynardSolomon has pointed out that Beethoven’sapprentice years fall into three phases: aperiod of precocious confidence up to theage of around fourteen; a crisis phase in hismid-teens in which he seems to havetemporarily abandoned composition in favourof performance; and a return to seriouscompositional aspirations in his late teens andearly twenties under the encouragement ofbenevolent patrons like Count Waldstein.In the early phase, Beethoven had produceda Piano Concerto in E-flat, WoO 4, ofwhich only the piano part survives. The titlepage bears the inscription “un Concert pourle Clavecin ou Fortepiano composé parLouis van Beethoven agé douze ans” (“a

10

1 Carl Czerny, On the Proper Performance of All Beethoven’s Works for the Piano, ed. Paul Badura-Skoda (Vienna: Universal, 1970) p. 4.


The Concertos: A discussion in order of composition

Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat, Op. 19(c. 1787-1801)I. Allegro con brio II. Adagio III. Rondo. Molto allegro

Although the second published, this workis chronologically the earliest survivingcomplete concerto by Beethoven for anyinstrument. Prior to this, in addition to theabove mentioned Concerto in E-flat, WoO 4(orchestral parts lost), there is a Romancecantabile (Hess 13) for piano, bassoon, fluteand orchestra written at the age of 16,which may have been an almost completeslow movement of a larger work; a lost OboeConcerto in F (Hess 12); and an incompleteViolin Concerto in C, WoO 5. Indeed theOpus 19 Concerto underwent change overa longer period than almost any other workby Beethoven. Begun probably as early as1787, it appears to have been played manytimes in several different incarnations in the 13 years leading up to its publicationin 1801. A further Rondo in B-flat, WoO 6, dating from 1793 for piano andorchestra was almost certainly played by

Beethoven at one stage as the finale for thiswork. Beethoven probably played it inMarch 1795 at the Burgtheater and it seemsclear he also played it, together with the“First” Concerto (actually the secondwritten), Opus 15, in his tour of Prague in1798. There are several documented concertoperformances by Beethoven during the1790s but it is difficult to be certain whichworks were played. As already mentioned,it is likely that the solo part varied considerablyfrom performance to performance. Whenthe work was finally being prepared forpublication in 1801, Beethoven wroteapologetically to the publisher, Hoffmeister,“as is usual with me, the pianoforte part ofthe concerto was not written out in the score.I have only written it out now, so that as Iam in a hurry, you will receive that part inmy own not very legible handwriting.”3

Beethoven returned to the piece again in1809 to write a cadenza for the first movement,completing a gestation which probablylasted over 20 years. It would be an immenseboost to modern understanding of Beethoven’sstylistic development if there was a recordof all the versions of this concerto ever playedby Beethoven. As it is, we have a range offragments and sketchleaves now scatteredin Berlin, Paris and London, containing

13

Like the young Liszt several decadeslater, Beethoven was involved in severalsuch pianistic contests in his early years andthey seem to have been important inestablishing his reputation as a composeroutside the ordinary. Improvisation wasclearly also central to his concerto compositionand there is substantial evidence that thekeyboard parts of his early concertosdeveloped and changed with each performance.In several cases the soloist’s part was notproperly written out until Beethoven wantedto publish it. Leon Plantinga has pointedout that while Beethoven seems to have beenkeen to publish sonatas and trios, he kept theconcertos back for his own use as a performer.

One of his early letters to Eleanore vonBreuning in 1794 confirms that plagiarismof his “difficulties and effects” at thekeyboard was a real issue for Beethoven.Enclosing a copy of a set of variations,Beethoven reassured her:

“The composition is so arranged thatyou need only play the trill and can leaveout the other notes, since these appear inthe violin part as well. I should never havewritten down this kind of piece, had I notalready noticed fairly often how somepeople in Vienna after hearing me extemporise

of an evening would note down on thefollowing day several peculiarities of mystyle and palm them off with pride as theirown ... But there was yet another reason,namely, my desire to embarrass thoseViennese pianists, some of whom are mysworn enemies ... I knew beforehand thatmy variations would here and there be putbefore the said gentlemen and that theywould cut a sorry figure with them.”2

From all of this it is clear that thenotion of the concerto as a genuine contestin which the soloist would triumphantlyprevail through superior keyboard prowesshad genuine meaning for Beethoven. Forthe young males of Vienna of the 1790s, itseems, playing concertos fulfiled the samefunction of contests through the centuries:it established one’s rank in the peckingorder for the purpose of attracting women.

12

2 Emily Anderson, The Letters of Beethoven, 3 vols. (London: MacMillan, 1961; reprint, 1985) p. 14-15. 3 Ibid. p. 43


the balance between these two roles, givingthe orchestra a varied but not too adventurousexposition and then allowing the soloist toburst in, often with a new idea, beforerepeating the material and taking it intonew keys. Beethoven seemed to have a naturaltendency to allow the first orchestral tuttito develop too much, almost as though itwere a symphony in its own right. He oftenseemed to want to let it change key andintroduce new ideas, with the attendantdanger of stealing the soloist’s thunder. Inall his piano concertos, one can see himwrestling against this tendency and hisvarious solutions provide an object lessonin architectural strategies in musical design.

In the B-flat Concerto, Opus 19,Beethoven clearly felt that his openingorchestral tutti required two broad paragraphsand that these needed to be of contrastingcharacter and key. His solution, thoughderided by scholars like the English writerDonald Francis Tovey who liked to judge itaccording to what it was not (i.e. Mozart)rather than on the basis of what it was, isnevertheless ingenious and elegant. Theopening is a typically 18th-century dialogue– a forthright march-like theme and a moreelegantly turned soft phrase to answer. Thefirst section develops the march-like themeover 40 bars, leading to an emphatic cadence

which then slips up a half-step for a quietsecond theme. This sounds like a new key anda new theme, but rapidly turns out simply tobe the elegant answering phrase in a remoteharmonic region. Thus Beethoven has achievedthe illusion of expansiveness in this sectionwithout depriving the soloist of the necessaryspace to make an impact later on. Whenthe soloist does appear, the material againinitially sounds new but is actually anothertwist on the tail part of the second theme.After some virtuosic passagework, which takes the music into a new key, the soloist’sexposition also prepares for a second themeand then gallantly hands the moment overto the orchestra, as though to acknowledgetheir politeness in waiting until the soloisthad entered before stating it. For a moment thesoloist becomes decorative and acquiescentbefore returning to form for a brilliant codettafull of intricate chromatic detail. Whatbecomes of the orchestra’s earlier ‘false’ secondtheme? It also has its moment in thedevelopment, reintroduced by the orchestraand eventually approvingly legitimised bythe soloist before the return. Beethoven’scadenza for this movement, which he addedin 1809, has several problems of stylisticconsistency with the earlier music. Thepiano was in a phase of development duringthe first decade of the 19th century and

15

material dating possibly from as early as 1787.When Beethoven did get around to

offering the work for publication he wasquite modest about its merits. In a letter ofDecember 1800 to Hoffmeister, he hadtucked the concerto into an extended list ofpossible works for publication which includedthe Septet, Opus 20, the First Symphony,Opus 21 and several other pieces, adding, “Ido not make [it] out to be one of my best …because I am still keeping back the betterones until I myself undertake a journey. Atthe same time it would not disgrace you toengrave this concerto”. The use of theplural, “better ones” appears disingenuous.At most there could have been only oneother, the Third Concerto in C minor, sincethe First Concerto in C major had alreadybeen offered for publication and wasmentioned elsewhere in the same letter.However, as we shall see, it is likely that atthis stage the work on the C minor Concertoamounted only to preliminary ideas.

Musical evidence for the work’s earlyprovenance can be found in the size of theorchestra. With the growing popularity ofpublic concerts in the 1790s, standardorchestras routinely included a modestbrass section of horns, and trumpets withtimpani, while the wind sections had addedthe now-mellowed tone of the clarinets to the

flutes, oboes and bassoons of the smallercourtly orchestras which had been sonotably developed by Haydn in the 1760sand 1770s. Yet despite the fanfare-likeopening theme of the first movement, theB-flat Concerto has none of these and is thusone of the smallest in scale of Beethoven’sorchestral works.

Even in the first movement of this, hisfirst major concerto, we can see Beethovenstruggling with an issue which it could beargued that, for all his towering achievementsin the concerto genre, he never quitehandled as well as Mozart. This issue wasthe problem of the balance between theorchestral exposition and the solo exposition.The background to this issue goes back tothe Baroque view of the concerto earlier inthe 18th century in which an agreed divisionof roles had emerged between orchestra (tutti)and soloist (solo) whereby the orchestraltuttis were stable and consolidating, usuallyremaining in a single key and using familiarthemes heard at the outset, while the soloistwas active and dynamic, changing key oftenand introducing new, and frequently difficultpassagework. As this form combined withthe Classical symphony, it became usual forthe orchestra to announce the main materialbefore the soloist entered, and Mozart haddeveloped brilliant strategies for maintaining

14


as his first published works which bear opusnumbers, the Trios Opus 1, and the PianoSonatas Opus 2. To these he was shortly toadd his first String Quartets (which, havinga slightly longer gestation period, werepublished as Opus 18) and finally his FirstSymphony, Opus 21. It thus belongs to theperiod when any ambivalence Beethovenmay have felt about being a performer or acomposer or both had resolved into his first period of assertive confidence in hiscompositional powers. This was just as wellsince it was during the same period thatBeethoven started to experience the firstsymptoms of deafness which would eventuallydrive him from the concert platformaltogether. Beethoven suffered serious illnessin 1797, and in 1801 revealed to his friendand confidante Franz Gerhard Wegeler that hishearing had been in decline for three years.

Wegeler, a physician, also left a revealingtestament both to Beethoven’s chaoticorganisational skills and brilliant improv-isational skills in connection with the firstperformance of this concerto (some haveargued that the anecdote may apply to theB-flat Concerto but whatever the work theinsight into Beethoven’s work methodsseems authentic).

“Only on the afternoon two days beforethe performance of the first concerto did hewrite the Rondo. He was suffering at the timefrom the rather severe colic which plaguedhim frequently. I helped him with minorremedies as best I could. Four copyists sat inthe hallway working from the manuscriptsheets he handed over to them one at a time.

“Here I may be permitted anotherdigression. During the first rehearsal whichtook place in Beethoven’s room the nextday, the piano was a semitone flatter than thewind instruments. Beethoven immediatelyordered the winds as well as the otherinstruments to tune to B-flat rather than Aand he played his part in C-sharp.”4

The opening theme of the Concertohas a march-like character which is similarin manner, if not in precise outline, to thatwhich begins the B-flat Concerto: suchmarch-like themes had become a recognisableconvention for concerto openings sinceMozart’s concertos of the 1780s. On thisoccasion, however, Beethoven had expandedhis orchestra to match the heroic aspirationand after a quiet opening statement onstrings, it is revealed in all its martial glorywith trumpets, drums and full wind(including clarinets) in the 16th bar. In the

17

Beethoven’s cadenza of 1809 makes noconcessions to the smaller range of theinstrument for which he had originallyconceived the piece. It begins with a grufffugue and in the course of its extendedexcursions into remote keys goes well outsidethe original five-octave keyboard range.

One feature of Beethoven’s style duringthe 1790s was his obvious interest in writingslow movements which were substantial,weighty and ruminative and this one doesnot disappoint. Again the soloist is giventhe role of taking the music to a new keyafter the theme is initially stated by theorchestra. After the second theme has beenstated, and then darkened a little with minor-mode harmonies by the orchestra, the pianoleads into a returning section which employsa feature he seems to have discoveredduring this early period and exploited forthe rest of his life: that is, the simultaneoususe of rapid notes (heard in the flowingmaterial on the piano) and slow over-archingthemes (in the orchestra) to create animpression of what novelist Milan Kunderacalled the universe of the infinitely small.

As already mentioned, the Rondo finaleof the published version, with its rudeoffbeat accents, may not have been themovement Beethoven originally planned forthis place in the work. The theme with

which the piano leads off bears a familyresemblance to the elegant answering phraseof the first movement, which may indeedhave been the reason Beethoven inserted itin place of the Rondo, WoO 6 which seemsto have been the original finale. Offbeataccents become a recurring feature in laterepisodes; and in the Coda, Beethovenintroduces what was to become one of hisfavourite concerto feints – an apparentlyinnocuous winding down of tension, as thoughnodding off in genial repose before a bracingfarewell shout at the close.

Piano Concerto No. 1 in C, Op. 15 (1795, rev. 1800)I. Allegro con brio II. LargoIII. Rondo. Allegro scherzando

While the B-flat Piano Concerto, Opus 19bears some of the marks of an apprenticework revised in Beethoven’s first maturity(around 1795), and then again (around 1801),the Piano Concerto in C major, Opus 15appears at a period when Beethoven seemsto have started consciously testing himselfagainst the major musical forms of his day.Despite the later opus number (which isdue to his self-confessed desire mentionedabove to hold his concertos back for hisown use), it was written in the same phase

16

4 Franz Gerhard Wegeler and Ferdinand Ries, Beethoven Remembered, trans. Frederick Noonan (London: Deutsch, 1988) p. 38.


(1803) had opened his eyes to possibilitiesof the remoter harmonic regions of this keyand he now wanted to apply these to theearlier work.

The notion of the soloist taming theorchestra also emerges in the Largo, in whichthe piano is given the opening theme over a soft accompanying bed of strings in theopening phrase. Given the harmonicexplorations of the first movement, Beethovenclearly recognised a need to write this musicin a remoter key, and his use of A-flat linksthis work to works like the ‘Pathétique’Sonata, Opus 13, in which he was startingto explore key relationships based on theinterval of a third rather than the moreconventional fifth. Beethoven’s form here isboth simpler and subtler than the B-flatConcerto. After a three-part statement of theopening melody, there is a secondary ideain the dominant. On the decorated returnhowever, he cuts the second theme entirely,reducing the weight of this movement so asto throw weight onto the outer movementswithout reducing its poetic import.

The finale starts with a stomping dance-like character which caused one early reviewerto refer to it (disparagingly) as “all’Inglese”(“in an English style”). Its combination ofebullience and far-reaching harmonic shiftsmake it one of Beethoven’s most successful

early Rondos, laying the foundation for themovement of similar character which was toconclude his first symphony in the same key.

Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37 (1803?)I. Allegro con brioII. LargoIII. Rondo. Allegro

The first performance of Beethoven’s ThirdPiano Concerto took place at one of thosemammoth concerts which he mountedfrom time to time, introducing in one eveninga string of towering orchestral masterpiecesin performances which, so sources of theday tell us, were often far from adequate.This one took place at 6 pm on 5 April 1803at the Theater an der Wien and the programincluded the First Symphony, which hadreceived its premiere in 1800, and the firstperformances of his Third Concerto, SecondSymphony and the oratorio, Christus amOelberge. According to Ries, the programwas originally even longer but was cut to make the length acceptable. Anothercontemporary, Ignaz von Seyfried, theKapellmeister at the Theater, left an amusingaccount of the opening which reinforcesthe chaotic impression given by Wegeler forthe B-flat Concerto:

“In the playing of the concerto movements

19

discussion of the B-flat Concerto, Opus 19,above, mention was made of Beethoven’sstruggles to contain the symphonic breadthof the orchestral expositions of hisconcertos and the dangers this posed in pre-empting the impact of the soloist’s firststatement. Some, notably the English writerTovey, have argued that Beethoven’s solutionin this concerto was flawed. While it maybe conceded that it is not as felicitous asthat in Opus 19 nor as that sometimesachieved by Mozart, it should be borne inmind that Beethoven’s expressive purposewas very different here. This is one ofBeethoven’s first essays in the fully-epauletted Napoleonic military style. Whilethat may seem naïve in view of his laterattitudes to militarism, there are incipientintimations of the heroic style which was tobe his major artistic project for at least thenext 12 years. Several writers hear anticipationsof passages from the ‘Emperor’ Concerto inthe staccato ideas which appear towards theclose of the exposition. At this stage of hisdevelopment, when his artistic aspirationsstarted to become so expansive in scope, itseems sensible to concentrate on whereBeethoven was going rather than on whereMozart had been. Certainly Beethoven’sorchestral exposition gives out all the significantthematic material of the music and he does

initially appear to allow the orchestra togive the soloist’s game away by movingtowards G major – the soloist’s key – beforesidestepping into the more remote area ofE-flat major. After some contrapuntaldevelopment, there is a new codetta themewhich seems calculated to reinforce thework’s military associations. The soloist’sdignity and status is returned, however, bya new idea on entry. The brilliant passageworkgiven to the soloist against the full orchestra’sre-statement of the work’s opening testifiesto the sense of defiant contest which Beethovenwas starting to see in the concerto. As willbe seen in the later concertos, Beethoven’sconception seems to have been that thesoloist’s role was not just to play with theorchestra, and shine against it, but to tameand subdue it in a world which glorifiedfree expression. As in the B-flat Concerto,the soloist’s exposition becomes increasinglychromatic and the soloist takes the musicinto remote harmonic areas before animposing Coda. In the development, revengeis complete when the soloist picks up the keyof the orchestra’s first indiscretion – E-flat –and introduces a new theme. As in the B-flat Concerto, Beethoven added cadenzas in1809: three in fact. It is as though theexperience of writing his other great C majorpiano piece, the ‘Waldstein’ Sonata, Opus 53

18


Krupholz, “I am not satisfied with the worksI have written so far. From now on I amtaking a new path.”7 The Third Concertomay well have been part of that new path.

As several writers have noted, theorchestral exposition of the first movementis the longest of all Beethoven’s concertos. Ithas even been criticised for almost oversteppingthe bounds of a concerto exposition andventuring into the symphonic. Certainly theforward drive of the terse motives whichgovern the opening on strings and windestablish a sense of inevitability in theirmomentum leading to a section which isconsiderably distant from the opening inboth key and expressive purpose. Theexposition is then required to quickly retracethis distance to allow the solo piano toenter with the simple yet effective gesture ofa series of defiant rising scales. Yet even itscritics have admitted that if the orchestralexposition was pushed to the very boundsof what a concerto can bear, the solo expositionsalvages this through its dynamic freedomand terse development. The cadenza is againone which Beethoven appears to have written,or at least to have written down in 1809,but its stormy weight is broadly in keepingwith the concerto of 1803. After the

concluding trill, Beethoven inserts a harmonicsurprise, allotting the dotted rhythm of themovement’s opening to what seems itsrightful place on the timpani and brieflytaking the music in an unexpected directionbefore a forceful close.

An even more unexpected harmonicdirection is found at the start of the slowmovement which is in the remote key of E major. Beethoven, ever an experimenterwith the new resources of the piano, asksthat the pedal be held down throughout thefirst theme, an effect he had also famouslytried in the first movement of the ‘Moonlight’Sonata, dating from a couple of years earlier.Carl Czerny claims he attended the firstperformance (he would have been twelve atthe time) and reports that Beethoven didjust that, although Czerny recommendsjudicious clearing on more modern pianosto prevent undue haze. The movement, whichbroadly plays out the same form of modulatingexposition, transition and contracted repriseas was used in the C major Concerto, Opus 15,is remarkable for the expressive role offigurative variation and rapid textural changeand tremolo in the piano part. The latteruses very fast notes in a very slow tempo, and caused the arithmetically-challengedBeethoven considerable notational problems.

21

he asked me to turn the pages for him; but– heaven help me! That was easier said thandone. I saw almost nothing but empty leaves;at the most on one page or the other a fewEgyptian hieroglyphs wholly unintelligibleto me scribbled down to serve as clues forhim; for he played nearly all of the solo partfrom memory, since, as was so often thecase, he had not had time to put it all downon paper. He gave me a secret glance wheneverhe was at the end of one of the invisiblepassages and my scarcely concealable anxietynot to miss the decisive moment amusedhim greatly and he laughed heartily at thejovial supper which we ate afterwards.”5

Though the date of the first performanceis well documented, the date of compositionhas been a matter of contention. This ispartly due to a misreading of a date inBeethoven’s own hand on the autographscore – the final ‘3’ in ‘1803’ had been drawnalmost as a complete circle – and partly dueto an absence of sketches for this work.Although the matter is still open to debate,Leon Plantinga’s recent review of all theevidence, including autograph analysis,

paper type, and the extended range of thepiano used in this concerto, cautiouslysupports the notion that, after jotting downsome preliminary ideas in 1797-8, thesubstantial composition of the work wasdone in 18036. We have already noted thatBeethoven said to his publisher Hoffmeisterin 1801 that he wanted to keep back “thebetter ones” of his concertos in order to havesomething to play on his travels. It is likelythat another reason he wanted to keepthem back is that they weren’t written yet.

However, establishing the date of thisconcerto is itself an important issue sincethis was a period of profound stylistic changefor Beethoven and the Third Concertointroduces for the first time in his concertosa quality which later generations haveidentified as unmistakably Beethovenian.Its implacable tone, economy of utteranceand expressive directness and use of thefateful (for Beethoven) key of C minor all makethe actual date of composition a significantissue for anyone interested in Beethoven’sdevelopment. Carl Czerny has recorded that,around 1803, Beethoven had said to Wenzel

20

5 Alexander Whellock Thayer, Thayer’s Life of Beethoven, ed. Elliot Forbes (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964) p. 329-30.

6 Leon Plantinga, Beethoven’s Concertos: History, Style, Performance (New York and London: Norton, 1999). 7 Czerny, On the Proper Performance of All Beethoven’s Works for the Piano, p. 13.


The finale combines an earnest tonewith a sense of inner forceful energy, theearnestness only relaxing in the presto Coda.There is a technical point in the connectionof keys that Beethoven takes great pains toemphasise, as though rather pleased withhis invention (it does nothing to diminishthe enjoyment of the less technicallyminded, however, if this point is ignored).The remote key of the slow movement, E major, is joined to the C minor of thefinale via the slow movement’s pivotal closingnote, G-sharp. This note is heard in the lastchord on the violins and is quickly bornagain in the Rondo, this time as an A-flat inthe piano’s opening theme. In case one didn’tget the point, Beethoven underlines it in red,so to speak, later in the movement. After afugal episode in the development, he bringsthe theme back in E major in a false repriseof the type loved by Haydn, again joiningthe two keys together by an emphasised G-sharp (this time in octaves between thehands). He returns to the idea once more inthe coda, with a third appearance of the G-sharp, but this time making it fit in thehome key of C major. It is a typicallyBeethovenian pun – heavy-handed, over-emphasised, and brilliant.

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G, Op. 58 (1804-6)I. Allegro moderatoII. Andante con motoIII. Rondo. Vivace

The exact date of the first performance ofBeethoven’s Fourth Concerto cannot be statedwith certainty. Certainly it was played on22 December 1808 with Beethoven at thepiano in what was the composer’s lastdocumented public appearance in a concertoand his second-last documented publicperformance of any kind of piano work.The program of that concert was even moremonstrous and epoch-making than that atwhich the Third Concerto had received itspremiere, containing not only the concertobut also the premieres of both the Fifth andthe Sixth Symphonies, the Choral Fantasiaand parts of Beethoven’s C major Mass. Itlasted four hours, the hall (in the middle ofwinter) was under-heated and the musicunder-rehearsed with at least one documentedbreakdown in the Choral Fantasia. Despiteall that, the concerto seems to have gone wellalthough one report describes Beethoven’sperformance as rapid and impetuous, whileanother, attributed to Carl Czerny, reportsthat Beethoven had played it most “roguishly”adding many unwritten notes8. It is possible

2322

8 Plantinga, Beethoven’s Concertos: History, Style, Performance, p. 215.

A page from Beethoven’s autograph score of the second movement of the Third PianoConcerto, showing the three main stages of composition. This manuscript is held in theStaatsbibliothek in Berlin.


keyboard (its melody arching right to thetop C of the range of the piano as it thenstood). When Beethoven stabilises into hisnew key of D major, there is again a newtheme, first heard on strings. This meansthat when the lyrical but unstable secondtheme heard in the orchestra’s originalexposition finally returns, it can be allowedto destabilise things before returning to aradiant close. Although the overwhelmingimpression is of mellifluous serenity,Beethoven has another strategy to preventthis becoming cloying or static, this time byincreasing the heat during the developmentso as to bring the piano’s quiet openingtheme back at the recapitulation in a full-voiced rapture. The evocative stillness andsimplicity of the slow movement has attractedpersistent speculation since the 19th centurythat it embodies some kind of extra-musicalstory or expressive purpose. Most persistenthas been the idea, first elaborated by one ofBeethoven’s favourite critics Adolph BernhardMarx, that the movement narrates the storyof Orpheus confronting the shades of theunderworld, who eventually yield to hispleading and grant him access to his beloved

Euridice. If listeners are inclined to acceptsuch a reading, the roles of the stern orchestralunison strings and the beautifully poisedpiano phrases which eventually dissolve thissternness need no specific elaboration tounpack their meaning beyond the listeners’own imagination. The issue has been revivedin recent times by Owen Jander9 although itis worth recalling that, according to Czerny,Beethoven generally declined to state thespecific inspirations for his music, where theseexisted, because he wanted to leave listenersfree to hear the music in their own way10.Whatever the programmatic content, themovement is a masterpiece of simpleeloquence.

There is also a simple harmonic patternwhich connects the three movements, eachone starting on a chord a third lower thanthe end of the previous one, to give animpression that each gently undercuts theearlier music. Particularly effective in thisregard is the pianissimo start of the finale,which, after the apparent tragedy of the slowmovement, enters with an ethereal lightnesswhich is maintained for the entire movement.It is a movement which almost never ceases

25

that the work had been performed privatelyat a concert organised by Prince Lobkowitzin March 1807 in which Beethoven’s firstfour symphonies and a concerto (unidentified)were played. However, although it is thoughtthat the Fourth Concerto was completedaround this time, it would be slightly surprisingthat a new concerto had been played at thisevent without drawing any comment.

Regarded by many as the finest of theset, the Fourth Concerto is undoubtedly oneof the great works of the fecund period of creativity which followed the firstperformance of Beethoven’s opera Leonore(the original title of Fidelio) in 1805. Inaddition to the Fourth Concerto, Beethoven’soutput at this time included the Fourth, Fifthand Sixth symphonies, the three Razumovskyquartets, the Violin Concerto, the TripleConcerto, and the ‘Appassionata’ Sonata. Itwas a period of creativity which, in qualityand quantity, was not matched by Beethovenuntil the 1820s.

If Beethoven had struggled earlier withthe balance of orchestral and solo expositions,his solution here reached a stage of classicperfection. First, there is the famous opening.The establishment of the soloist’s musicalpersona is achieved through the simple butstriking gesture of having the soloist open theconcerto in a theme which is improvisatory,

but also tersely loaded with motivic materialfor later unpacking. More subtle is Beethoven’ssolution to the problem of endowing theorchestral exposition which follows withsufficient opportunities for expansion withoutallowing it to depart on a long symphonicjourney. After developing the soloist’spregnantly simple opening phrase to anemphatic cadence, Beethoven appears tolaunch into a lyrical, highly attractive newtheme in A minor. The theme itself, however,has its own inherent instability whichprevents this section settling down in foreigntonal territory for too long. Through a seriesof poignant statements on woodwind itsequentially winds its way back to a newidea in the home key, expressive of aradiant, openhearted joy. So natural is thesuccession of expressive and tonal statesthat the orchestral exposition reaches itsclose with the sense that the listener hasheard a persuasive foretaste of the argumentto follow, without diminishing its momentum.The solo exposition starts so gently as tosuggest nothing more than innocuousdecoration. But as we move towards thesecond theme, the soloist asserts artisticcontrol with a new theme marked pianissimoin the surprise key of B-flat and spaced withthe pianist’s right and left hands pushed tothe extreme highs and lows of Beethoven’s

24

9 Owen Jander, “Beethoven’s ‘Orpheus in Hades’: The Andante con moto of the Fourth Piano Concerto,” 19th Century Music 8 (1985).

10 Czerny, On the Proper Performance of All Beethoven’s Works for the Piano.


can be found throughout the manuscript ofthe Fifth Concerto (and also on his choralmusic but not on his symphonies). Thisdoes not indicate that the practice shouldbe omitted from the earlier concertos. It isjust an indication that since Beethovenknew he wouldn’t be playing the FifthConcerto himself, he had better be moreprecise. For the modern performer this impliesa responsibility to be both more free thanthe score implies but also more faithful toBeethoven’s carefully specified intentions.There is a paradox here which may reflect achanging view on Beethoven’s part towardshis works. He didn’t want others taking theliberties that he himself had taken in his earlierworks, as mentioned by Czerny for example in connection with the Fourth Concerto.

The circumstances for the compositionof this work during 1809 were, of course,far from ideal. For the second time inBeethoven’s life, Vienna was besieged andoccupied by Napoleon’s armies. During theearlier invasion (1805), the French hadentered unopposed, but this time the citywas defended and the daily bombardments,according to Ferdinand Ries, drove Beethovento seek shelter in his brother’s cellar, coveringhis fragile ears with pillows. In July, about

two months after the city surrendered, he wroteto his publisher (along with his increasingsevere complaints about misprints):

“What a destructive, disorderly life I seeand hear around me, nothing but drums,cannons, and human misery in every form.”11

In such a context, it is difficult to knowwhat to make of the concerto’s overtlymilitary associations. Certainly the nickname‘Emperor’ was not Beethoven’s and the severalstories of its derivation are unreliable. It islikely that the military style would havebeen recognised and approbated by Vienneseaudiences – they responded with wildenthusiasm in 1814 to Beethoven’s lesssophisticated military piece (Wellington’sVictory) after Napoleon’s first defeat.Nevertheless from a composer who had tornup the title page of the Eroica Symphony inanger at Napoleon’s despotism, it is surprisingthat he returned to this style in the year ofan invasion.

Beethoven’s strategies in this work havesome similarities with those used in theFourth Concerto, even though the effect isoften the polar opposite of that achievedthere. Thus again the soloist appears in theopening bars, though to majestic rather thanintimate effect. Although these flourishes,

27

to sparkle and, as in the B-flat Concertothough with greater finesse, Beethovenallows the music to subside into a momentof nodding stillness before the Presto close.

Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat, Op. 73, ‘Emperor’ (1809)I. AllegroII. Adagio un poco motoIII. Rondo. Allegro

As has already been noted, there is noevidence that Beethoven ever played thiswork and it is the only one of the pianoconcertos which seems to have been publishedin both London and Leipzig before it wasperformed. After appearing in London in1810 and in Leipzig around May 1811, thework was first performed in November ofthat year in Leipzig with pianist FriedrichSchneider. It was the following year thatCzerny introduced the work in Vienna.This situation marks a total reversal ofBeethoven’s attitude towards his earlierconcertos which he resisted publishing untilhe had extracted maximum mileage fromthem on the concert platform, and there areseveral manifestations of this change. First,since he was entrusting the work to others,Beethoven did not leave the business of acadenza up to chance. It seems that in 1809,after realising he would not play his concertos

again, he set about reining in the latitudetraditionally given to soloists to improvisetheir own cadenza, first by writing downcadenzas for the first four concertos, andsecondly by producing this work withoutany opportunity for improvised insertionsat all: at the point towards the end of thefirst movement where a cadenza wouldnormally occur, Beethoven peremptorilyinstructs the player “No si fa una Cadenza,ma s’attacca subito il seguente” (“Do not playa cadenza but go straight on to the following”).But there are other aspects to the score whichalso reveal that Beethoven was preparing itfor others rather than himself and these giveus considerable insight into how Beethovenmight have played his own work.

In contrast to the blank pages andEgyptian hieroglyphs which Seyfried noticedwhen turning pages for the Third Concerto,Beethoven seems to have set out the scorerather carefully. It is known for examplethat, as well as playing the solo part, it wascommon practice for the soloist to alsoaccompany the orchestra during theorchestral tuttis, by playing the bass partwith improvised chords above according tothe old practice of basso continuo. In 1809Beethoven wrote out his own treatise onbasso continuo carefully specifying the signshe thought should be used, and these signs

26

11 Anderson, The Letters of Beethoven, p. 234


punctuated by broad orchestral chordsoutlining the most straightforward ofprogressions, are free and improvisatory,Beethoven leaves nothing to chance. Onecan imagine in these carefully notatedpassages that one is hearing the kind ofthing he played when he improvised. Theorchestral exposition is less tonally adventurousthan those in his earlier works, outliningtwo themes broadly within the confines ofthe home key of E-flat (with some inflectionstowards the minor). Little appears in thiswork which does not have significantconsequences, however: the simple chromaticscale, for example, which brings back thesoloist after the orchestral exposition,becomes the basis for increasing chromaticelaboration in the codetta and elsewhere.Similarly the broad improvisatory chords ofthe start reveal themselves as more thanjust impressive warm-up exercises: they areknitted back into the return section, carefullywritten out in the prevailing tempo asthough this time the piano is chafingunder restraint. As in the Fourth Concerto,the solo exposition makes a surprise breakinto what textbooks call the flat mediant key,though the character here is developmentalrather than radiant. A significant structuralmoment is the further move into B minor,

a key area which is eventually unpacked toits fullest extent in the slow movement.While the characters of the Fourth and FifthConcertos could not be further removedfrom each other, both make use of a strikinglysimple Beethovenian discovery, the hurlingback of emphatic chords between pianoand orchestra. In the Fourth Concerto itoccurred at the moment of return, but inthe Fifth it is used as the climactic momentof the development. Never before had asingle keyboard attempted to take on a fullorchestra with such fearless defiance (thecourage required from the smaller instrumentsof Beethoven’s day was perhaps greater).

As already mentioned the key of B,fleetingly implanted in the first movement,is taken up in the hymn-like Adagio, thoughthis time in its major form. Czerny, whogave the work’s first Vienna performance,claimed that “when Beethoven wrote thisAdagio, the religious songs of devout pilgrimswere present to his mind”12. In structure itis a simple ABA form with decorated return.The true significance of the key of B isrevealed in the join to the finale where itsimply moves down a step to B-flat, thedominant note and the first note of the finaletheme. In the transitional passage Beethovenprefigures this theme in hesitant veiled shapes

2928

A page from Beethoven’s autograph score of the first movement of the ‘Emperor’Concerto. This manuscript is held in the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin.

12 Czerny, On the Proper Performance of All Beethoven’s Works for the Piano, p. 103.


Gerard Willems

Gerard Willems is one of Australia’s finestpianists and recording artists, and its

pre-eminent Beethoven interpreter. He madehis international debut in London in 1974.Since then he has toured extensively through-out Europe, Asia, New Zealand and Australia.

He started his musical life in Hollandwhen he was awarded a professorial scholarshipfor piano at the age of eight. Gerard Willemsmigrated to Australia with his family in 1958.He entered the Sydney Conservatorium,studied with the late Gordon Watson,graduated with honours, and was appointedjunior lecturer in piano. After winning firstprize in the prestigious Queen Victoria PianoCompetition in 1972, Gerard Willems wascalled up for National Service. After fulfilinghis military duties, he pursued advancedkeyboard studies in Munich, before touringand performing internationally as concertosoloist for Dame Margot Fonteyn, RudolphNureyev, Mikhail Baryshnikov and NataliaMakarova.

He returned to Sydney in 1981 to join thekeyboard staff at the Sydney Conservatoriumwhere he is currently senior lecturer in piano,repertoire and chamber music. GerardWillems’ repertoire includes concertos byMozart, Liszt, Beethoven, Schumann, Ravel,

Falla, Grieg, Rachmaninov, Gershwin andBernstein. He has played with all the majorAustralian orchestras, toured nationally forthe Australian Broadcasting Corporationand Musica Viva, and has performed in the Adelaide and Sydney Festivals. Tocommemorate the 200th anniversary ofMozart’s death, he formed the ensembleMOZARTROIS and recorded the completecycle of Mozart’s Piano Trios in the ConcertHall of the Sydney Opera House.

Between 1997 and 2000, Gerard Willemsrecorded the 32 piano sonatas of Beethovenfor release on CD by ABC Classics, becomingthe first Australian to do so. The recordings,which feature the Stuart piano, designedand manufactured in Australia, have beenacclaimed internationally, and won twoARIA awards for Best Classical Album in1999 and 2000 (the first time a pianist haswon this prestigious award).

Gerard Willems won the inaugural QueenElizabeth II Australian Musical Scholarshipin 2000, which enabled him to spend sixmonths studying the training in early musicin academies throughout Europe and theUnited States. In the same year he held theHephzibah Menuhin Chair in Piano asVisiting Professor at the Rubin Academy inJerusalem. In 2003 he was awarded a CentenaryMedal for services to music.

31

as though hinted at through mist before thesoloist bursts through with cross-accenteddefiance. It is a movement which never tiresof spurring itself on to fiery gallantry. Thecharacteristic unwinding of energy towardsthe close noted earlier in the Second andFourth Concertos is here developed withparticular effect. After a movement ofpersistent forward galloping, Beethovenbrings the sun out in the coda, and lets thepiano momentum subside with all theearlier energy reduced to a distant memoryon the timpani before one final assault onthe ramparts. So ends the concerto which,as far as we can tell, Beethoven never played.

Peter McCallum

ReferencesAnderson, Emily. The Letters of Beethoven. 3 vols.

London: MacMillan, 1961. Reprint, 1985.Czerny, Carl. On the Proper Performance of All

Beethoven’s Works for the Piano. Edited by Paul Badura-Skoda. Vienna: Universal, 1970.

Wegeler, Franz Gerhard and Ries, Ferdinand. Beethoven Remembered. Translated by Frederick Noonan. London: Deutsch, 1988.

Jander, Owen. “Beethoven’s ‘Orpheus in Hades’: The Andante con moto of the Fourth Piano Concerto.” 19th Century Music 8 (1985): 195-212.

Plantinga, Leon. Beethoven’s Concertos: History, Style, Performance. New York and London: Norton, 1999.

Thayer, Alexander Whellock. Thayer’s Life of Beethoven. Edited by Elliot Forbes. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964.

30


Sinfonia Australis

The orchestra Sinfonia Australis, comprisingSydney’s best instrumentalists, was

formed under the auspices of ABC Classicsto work with the chorus Cantillation andvarious major soloists. Its first recording wasa disc of Fauré’s choral and orchestral works.Sinfonia Australis has recorded two discs ofarias and Asian folksongs with soprano Shu-Cheen Yu, Handel arias with David Hobson,Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending withDimity Hall and the soundtrack to themotion picture The Bank composed by AlanJohn. Forthcoming releases include a discwith baritone Teddy Tahu Rhodes, a recordingof slow movements with oboist DianaDoherty, and a disc of songs from motionpictures with tenor David Hobson.

SINFONIA AUSTRALISAnna McDonald, leader

Flute Melissa Farrow, Lamorna Nightingale

Oboe Antony Chesterman (Concerto No. 5), Diana Doherty (No. 4), Ngaire de Korte (Nos. 1 & 4),Alexandre Oguey (Nos. 1 & 5), Shefali Pryor (Nos. 2 & 3), Rixon Thomas (Nos. 2 & 3)

Clarinet Francesco Celata, Christopher Tingay

Bassoon Andrew Barnes, Vicki Grant

Horn Robert Johnson, Marnie Sebire

Trumpet Leanne Sullivan, Helen Gill

Timpani Brian Nixon

Violin Anna McDonald, Alexandra d’Elia, CaronChan, Myee Clohessy, Petra Davis, Sarah Dunn,Alice Evans, Shuti Huang, Gabrielle Johnson,Michelle Kelly, Benjamin Li, Laura McCrow,Narine Melconian, Leigh Middenway, MicheleO’Young, Jane Piper, Elizabeth Pogson, MirkaRozmus, Martin Silverton, Teri Singer, Lisa Stewart,Matthew Bruce, Alexandra Mitchell, Emily WardViola Amanda Murphy, Valmai Coggins, RosemaryCurtin, Stefan Duwe, Greg Ford, MarianneYeomans, Nicole Forsyth, Clytie MurphyCello Daniel Yeadon, Jamie Hey, James Beck, SallyMaer, Rosemary Quinn, Svetlana Bogosavljevic, Anthea CotteeDouble Bass Kees Boersma, Kirsty McCahon,Richard Lynn

Stuart & Sons Pianos

Stuart & Sons pianos are designed andindividually hand-crafted in Australia.

They have been praised by music expertsthroughout the world for their sustainingqualities, tonal clarity and dynamic range.

Their creator, Wayne Stuart, is recognisedas a visionary in contemporary acoustic pianobuilding. He studied the piano maker’s craftwith leading manufacturers in Europe andJapan, and has been the principal trainer ofpiano technicians in the South Pacific regionfor over 15 years.

At the core of a Stuart & Sons piano isa sophisticated string coupling device which

33

Antony Walker

Born in Sydney, Antony Walker is at the forefront of a new generation of

Australian musicians, having established areputation for artistic excellence in directionand performance over the last decade. Recentlyappointed Music Director to WashingtonConcert Opera, he covers the range of opera,choral and symphonic repertoire.

Antony Walker’s skill in raising technicaland artistic standards of performance iswidely acknowledged, and he was appointedChorusmaster and house conductor to theprestigious Welsh National Opera in 1998.Conducting engagements with WNOincluded Madama Butterfly, Carmen, Rigoletto,The Barber of Seville and Queen of Spadeswhich he also conducted in performancesthroughout Italy. Since 1997 he has beenan annual visitor to the USA, this yearconducting at Wolf Trap Opera and theNorth American premiere of Poul Ruders’The Handmaid’s Tale for Minnesota Opera,as well as Béatrice et Bénédict and Stiffelio forWashington Concert Opera.

Antony Walker’s growing list of recordingsincludes Fauré’s Requiem and La Naissancede Vénus, Carmina Burana, Prayer for Peace,a CD of contemporary sacred music, andOde to Joy. Most recently released is Bach

Arias & Duets with Sara Macliver andSally-Anne Russell, Allegri Miserere withCantillation and a CD and DVD recordingof Handel’s Messiah with Cantillationand Orchestra of the Antipodes on periodinstruments.

He has conducted many of the leadingsymphony and chamber orchestras andinstrumental ensembles around the country,most of Australia’s finest contemporaryensembles, and also for Opera Australia. Hewas Musical Director of Sydney PhilharmoniaChoirs from 1993 to 1997.

Antony Walker’s commitment tocontemporary composition and performanceis evidenced by more than 100 premiereperformances of works by Australiancomposers and many Australian premieresof significant international compositionsincluding Arvo Pärt’s St John Passion,Poulenc’s Figure Humaine and Iannis Xenakis’Idmen A and B.

In addition to being the founder andmusic director of Cantillation and SinfoniaAustralis, Antony Walker is a co-artisticdirector of Pinchgut Opera. He conductedtheir inaugural critically acclaimed perform-ances of Handel’s Semele in 2002 and also conducts their next production, TheFairy Queen.

32


maintains the initial vertical mode vibrationproduced when the hammer strikes thestring. This device reduces the variable tuningand damping characteristics associated withdecaying piano tones. The result is a sustained,clear and dynamic sound, rich in harmonicsand sympathetic to the entire piano repertoire.

Stuart & Sons pianos take advantage ofmodern materials such as zirconia, ceramicsand stainless steel, as well as local timbersincluding King William and Queensland hooppines. These instruments have eight octaves(F 21.8268 to f 5587.6517 hertz) and fourpedals: sostenuto, sostenuto a scelta, dolcemuto and dolce (which reduces strikingdistance and key depth).

Wayne Stuart believes that the piano’scontinued survival depends on innovationand change to remain vital and relevant, a conviction reflected in the fundamentalchanges to the art of piano-making initiatedby this pioneering Tasmanian.

Project Concept and Executive ProducerBrendan Ward (Hammerklavier Productions)Executive Producers Robert Patterson, Lyle Chan (ABC Classics) Editorial and Production Manager Hilary ShrubbRecording Producer and Editor Stephen SnellemanRecording Engineer Allan MacleanMastering Virginia ReadProject Coordinator Alison JohnstonCover and Booklet Design Imagecorp Pty LtdPhotography Greg BarrettPiano Stuart & Sons

Recorded 26, 27 October, 2, 3 November 2002;27-29 March, 3-5 April, 26-28 July 2003 in theEugene Goossens Hall of the AustralianBroadcasting Corporation’s Ultimo Centre.

ABC Classics acknowledges the assistance ofGraeme John, Stephen Walter, Maya Lerner,Alexis Lindsay (Australia Post); Robert Albert,Paul Marx, Wayne Stuart, Kate Stuart(Piano Australia); Professor Robert Constable(Dean of Music, Newcastle Conservatorium);Phillip Shovk, Steven Godbee, Jane Somerville,Andrew Johnston, Owen Geary, Natalie Shea,Katherine Kemp, Allan Scott-Rogers.

� 2003 Australian Broadcasting Corporation.© 2003 Australian Broadcasting Corporation.Distributed in Australasia by Universal Classics & Jazz,a division of Universal Music Group, under exclusive licence.Made in Australia. All rights of the owner of copyright reserved.Any copying, renting, lending, diffusion, public performance orbroadcast of this record without the authority of the copyright owner is prohibited.

34

ALSO AVAILABLE

AVAILABLE MID-2004Beethoven

‘Emperor’ Concerto on DVD

Beethoven Complete Piano Sonatas


465 758-2


Documents

Beethoven Concertos Booklet - · PDF fileCD 2 [70’20] Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37(1803?) [36’21] 1 I. Allegro con brio 16’49 cadenza: Beethoven, 1809 2 II. Largo