ABOUT THE MUSIC

a prosperous and lively musical public. Hamburg was (and is) a crossroads of ideas and cultures, where the latest musical innovations arrived early and were swiftly embraced. (It’s no coincidence that the Beatles found their voice there).

Telemann was a leader of musical taste in Hamburg, and this striking Sonata in four parts – for two violins, viola and basso continuo – shows him as master both of learned German counterpoint and the brilliant Italian style of string writing. In the melting pot of Hamburg, anything was possible, and the fact that it survives in a copy by the Dresden violin virtuoso (and collaborator with both Bach and Vivaldi) Johann Pisendel suggests that it was a well-travelled work. But the dedication with which Telemann headed his anthology of chamber music Der getreue Musikmeister (1728-29) makes his intention absolutely clear.

I have nothing further to present other than to solicit from amateurs of music an opinion well-disposed toward me…your most humble and obedient Telemann. He aimed, in other words, to please.

GEORG PHILIPP TELEMANN (1681-1767)

Excerpts from the cantata Der am Ölberg zagende Jesus (Die Still Nacht) TWV 1:364

Die Stille Nacht

Er rung die

Mein Vater

In the summer of 1722, by a unanimous vote, Georg Philipp Telemann was offered the post of Kantor (music director) at St Thomas’s Church in Leipzig. He turned it down. Disappointed, the chairman of the appointments committee declared that “since the best man could not be hired, an average one will have to be tolerated instead” - and gave the post to Johann Sebastian Bach. It’s a story that makes modern jaws drop, but it does demonstrate Telemann’s reputation as a composer of sacred music. Telemann’s autobiography listed:

…12 cycles [of cantatas]; many long works with trumpets and timpani for high feast days, approximately 700 arias; 19 passions…6 for the mayors’ funerals; 12 for pastors’ initiations, 3 for jubilees….

Telemann had completed one entire cycle of 72 church cantatas (one for each Sunday and feast day in the liturgical year) even before he moved to Hamburg in 1721. This one, believed to date from 1741, belongs specifically to Passiontide, and centres – with heart-rending expressive power – on Christ’s nocturnal vigil on the Mount of Olives. A supremely practical musician, Telemann uses only modest forces and a single vocalist: his emphasis is on conveying the experience (and message) of Christ’s anguished meditations and prayers as directly, and as meaningfully, as possible.

Richard Bratby

JOHANN

ADOLPH HASSE

(c.1699–1783)

Concerto for Flute in B minor

Allegro ma non troppo

Adagio

Allegro

Hasse’s Concerto for Flute in B minor demonstrates his mastery in composing instrumental music. It was probably inspired by the great French composer and flautist Quantz and was written in the period when Hasse was Kappellmeister to the Dresden Court. Based on Vivaldi’s model, the concerto alternates between tutti and solo sections.

In the outer movements, the solos contain dazzling virtuoso passages that could only be properly executed by a master flautist. Like Vivaldi’s later concertos, these solo passages are lightly accompanied with just two violins. The sparser texture further distinguishes the flute as a soloist from the rest of the ensemble. More intimate than the faster movements, the adagio is replete with sustained tones and pulsating repeated notes. Here, Hasse treats the flute as he would the voice in a solo aria, and while it is often accompanied by the whole ensemble, the adagio maintains a sense of buoyancy and grace thanks to the composer’s superb melodic writing.

Anthony Abouhamad

HEINRICH IGNAZ FRANZ VON BIBER (1644–1704)

Serenada à 5 Der Nachwätcherleid

Aria

Ciacona: ‘Lost Ihr Hern’

Heinrich von Biber was born in Bohemia, but lived and worked from 1670 in the Catholic church-state of Salzburg –where he began to compose his “Mystery” sonatas from around 1676 onwards. These extraordinary sacred works for unaccompanied violin have cemented Biber’s reputation as one of the most powerful musical imaginations in the generation that preceded Bach, but like any baroque professional he adapted his talents to the needs and tastes of the community in which he worked. And that particular community like to party, as well as to pray. “The Salzburgers’ spirit is exceedingly inclined to low humour. The Punch-and-Judy spirit shines through everywhere” reported the eighteenthcentury poet Christian Friedrich Schubart.

So, for the Salzburg carnival of 1673, Biber came up with this playful instrumental Serenade, which might or might not have accompanied a dancepantomime, but which was designed, regardless, to tickle the Salzburg taste for the quirky. There’s an Aria, played by instruments alone. And then in the Ciaconna (Chaconne) Biber tells the string players to put down their bows and play their instruments Testudini - “like lutes”. (“It actually comes out very nicely with the instruments tucked under the arm” he advises the possibly reluctant instrumentalists). The music tiptoes drolly forward – and then, out of nowhere, a human voice is heard: the cry (writes Biber) of “the Nightwatchman, who currently calls out the hour around here”. Listen, you people, to what’s said: the clock has struck nine.

All’s safe and all’s well, and praise the Lord God and Our Lady.

Twice, he sings his report – and then stalks off into the distance, and the night.

Richard Bratby