Among Bach and Handel’s direct contemporaries was Johann Friedrich Fasch (1688-1758). Born near Weimar, Fasch moved into the home of a relative when his father died in 1700, and it was there that he seems to have received his first musical training. He soon enrolled at St. Thomas’s School in pre-Bach Leipzig, though he was largely self-taught as an instrumentalist. He eventually produced his own suites, which were played by Telemann’s Collegium. In 1708, while studying law at Leipzig University, Fasch actually formed the “second ordinary Collegium musicum.” The fortunes of instrumental music in Leipzig were clearly on the rise, and music like Fasch’s Concerto in G Major would become increasingly coveted for a variety of settings.

The Concerto is scored, rather uniquely, for two violas, two oboi da caccia, and two bassoons plus continuo. The opening Largo unfolds at a leisurely pace with rather uneventful ritornellos for the whole ensemble. Overall, the contrast between tutti and solo episodes is understated by comparison to Fasch’s Italian models. The second movement, marked “Air,” has the feel of a conventional binary dance in triple meter – a Minuet, for instance. He will close the Concerto with a pair of cheery Minuets, but Fasch seems most comfortable in the Allegro third movement. It is longer than the others and shows greater contrast in dynamic effects, scoring, and motivic development.

Sir George Benjamin (b. 1960) is one of today’s most prominent English composers. Born in London, Benjamin started composing as early as the age of seven. By the time he turned 15, he began studying composition with Olivier Messiaen and would remain the Frenchman’s pupil for four years. After concluding lessons with Messiaen, Benjamin transitioned to work with Alexander Goehr at Cambridge for an additional four years. Benjamin’s compositional output reaching from the 1970s until today constitutes an eclectic mix of orchestral, chamber, and solo instrumental pieces, alongside a generous handful of pieces written for vocal soloist and instrumental ensemble, as well as four operas. He has been the Henry Purcell Professor of Composition at King’s College London for over 20 years now, beginning the post in 2001.

Viola, Viola was commissioned by renowned Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu for the opening of the Tokyo Opera City Concert Hall on September 16, 1997. Takemitsu himself specified to Benjamin that he wanted a piece for two violists, his friends Yuri Bashmet and Nobuko Imai. Despite the sparse instrumentation, Benjamin’s duet imagines a musical space that accommodates numerous voices, often creating impressive sonic illusions through polyphonic layering. In a program note for the piece he wrote, “My desire at times was to conjure an almost orchestral depth and variety of sound.” The composer creates depth too in the way that he approaches musical time – the formal ambiguity of the piece creates moments in which the seconds fly by, and others where the passage of time itself seems arrested.

Antonín Dvořák’s (1841-1904) works capture the essence of central European (Bohemian) folk traditions melded to a cosmopolitan or “high art” style of concert music. Ironically, some of his most famous pieces – the New World Symphony, the powerful Cello Concerto – were written in the United States, far away from his native land. Dvořák had already established himself as a leading voice in Europe when he arrived in the U.S. in 1892 to take the helm at the National Conservatory of Music in New York. Despite the demands of his administrative post, Dvořák found these American years to be particularly fruitful. Summers provided a break from administrative work, and on one such holiday Dvořák wrote the String Quintet No. 3 in E-flat Major. At the time he was living in Spillville, Iowa and had just completed his beloved “American” String Quartet and Symphony No. 9 (“From the New World”). The Quintet also has been given the “American” moniker, for it brings together Dvořák’s native Bohemian style with influences from American musical culture, including spirituals and folksongs.

The E-flat Quintet adds a second viola to the standard string quartet – Dvořák himself was an accomplished violist – and not surprisingly that “added” viola is given a short solo phrase at the very outset. The tone is reverential, only gradually coming to life with the arrival of a first main theme. Overall, the movement reveals Dvořák’s distinct ability to embed the charm of folk music and infectious rhythm within a sophisticated formal and tonal framework. Liberated from having to provide inner-voice harmonic support (a viola’s traditional role), the additional viola can inject interesting counterthemes and punctuated gestures that enliven the action.

Again for the second movement, an agitated Allegro vivo, Dvořák isolates the second viola at the start. But very quickly the familiar rustic style takes hold. An earnest middle section in the minor mode, marked by pizzicato strings surrounding the melody in first viola, helps swell the proportions of his mini-Scherzo. The theme passes to a soaring first violin just before the reprise begins to round out the structure.

The Larghetto is the Quintet’s slow movement. Notated in the rarely used key of A-flat minor, this Larghetto includes a thoughtful theme and variations with hints of “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.” At one point Dvořák considered setting the material for baritone and orchestra. Despite the superficial use of an American anthem, the composer’s European roots come through at every turn. Dvořák was surrounded by a large group of Czech immigrants living in Iowa. Here, I think, we find him closer to his native soil than Spillville.

Out of the Larghetto’s deep quiet, which was marked pppp (!), a skipping Allegro theme arises. Its character stems from the incessant herky-jerky, long-short rhythm. The second theme, strikingly different, combines a motoric melody in G minor with both pizzicato and strummed chordal accompaniment. At the return of the opening material, Dvořák reveals the classic rondo form that he has chosen to conclude this Quintet. The rondo form can be described as a series of thematic episodes, each indicated by a unique letter (in this case, ABACABACA). We’ve already met the A and B themes, and the new material (C) is the most lyrical of the three. Those familiar with Dvořák’s style, or Eastern European folk music in general, will anticipate in advance the acceleration that occurs as the final cadence draws near.

© Jason Stell, 2024