Queensland Symphony Orchestra: Classical Favourites

William Tell was Rossini’s last opera: at the age of 38, the composer virtually stopped composing altogether for over 20 years. There has been much speculation as to the reason, though no definitive answer: the death of his parents? New trends in opera with which he was out of sympathy? Or more likely, his ill-health, which research has shown to have been a disease of the urinary tract, making him chronically tired and depressive.

The story of William Tell, based on a play by Schiller, comes from the fight of the Swiss cantons for liberation from oppression in the 13th century. William Tell was the famous crossbow marksman who, after being forced by the despotic bailiff Gessler to shoot an apple placed on his son’s head, killed the tyrant. The opera was not entirely favourably received, when first produced in Paris in 1829. The overture, however, contains in its final section one of the most instantly recognised motifs in music. The overture closes with a brilliant march, announced by a trumpet fanfare like a call to revolt.

Could you tell from this delectable music that Mozart didn’t exactly put his heart and soul into it? His only concerto for flute and harp came about thanks to a commission from the Duc de Guines, a French nobleman who, like many music-loving aristocrats, had taken up the flute. Not only that, but his daughter was, according to Mozart, a magnifique harpist. However, after he’d given her composition lessons for four months and was still awaiting payment — and as she wasn’t the most gifted student imaginable — Mozart’s feelings about his double concerto cooled somewhat. Yet, if there’s one section in this three-movement work which demonstrates Mozart’s ability to exceed his brief, it’s the sublime Andantino. The orchestral introduction alone suggests a world of serenity in which deeper feelings peep through, an impression confirmed by the tender dialogue that then unfolds between the two solo instruments.

"I began the ballet with an effort, sensing a decline in my inventive powers." It’s astonishing to read this sentence, part of a letter Tchaikovsky wrote in 1891, knowing that the ballet he’s referring to is The Nutcracker! This magical fantasy has gone on to become one of the most beloved of all ballets, with the suite Tchaikovsky created from it being a firm favourite in concert and on the screen, thanks in part to its appearance in Disney’s Fantasia. 

The story, about Christmas gifts which come to life, sees the toy nutcracker defeat the evil Mouse King before turning into Prince Charming. He then carries the heroine, Clara, off to the Kingdom of Sweets. It’s there that he and the Sugar Plum Fairy dance this impassioned pas de deux, which contains some of the ballet’s most opulent music. The fervent cello theme you hear at the outset, with shimmering harp accompaniment, eventually returns on trumpet in blazing fashion, before a final climax of incredible orchestral splendour.

Romeo and Juliet – the ultimate drama of young love – has probably attracted more composers than any other Shakespeare play. There are at least 14 operatic versions, but until Prokofiev created this work in the mid-1930s, nobody had composed a full-length classical ballet score based on Shakespeare.

There’s a lot of macho swagger in the Dance of the Knights. Romeo and his friends have just crashed the Capulets’ ball and watch as the knights dance. Then the music becomes gentler and more poignant as Juliet dances with Paris, the man her parents hope she’ll marry. When the big tune returns near the end of the piece, you might be surprised to hear it played on an instrument more closely associated with jazz than with Russian orchestral music – the tenor saxophone.

First, you’ll hear a syncopated snare drum intro, before flutes and piccolo chirpily announce a jaunty melody that sounds like it might be an old folk tune or even the melodic foundation of any one of hundreds of pop songs. Then, when the horns and strings enter, the adventure begins – a kaleidoscopic exploration of a simple musical phrase, one which references everything from the ‘big sky’ sounds of Aaron Copland to the space operas scored by John Williams.

And the title? It refers to the event for which this Festive Fanfare was commissioned – a concert in 2013 to mark the 40th anniversary of Adelaide’s Festival Centre.

The Spartacus the world knows best has a dimple in his chin, thanks to Kirk Douglas’ depiction of this legendary Roman gladiator-turned-rebel in the classic 1960 movie. Running a close second is the ballet, first staged in St. Petersburg in 1956. Whether he was writing for solo piano, the concert hall, or the ballet stage, Khachaturian created some of the most immediately appealing music of his time, and his music for this full-length spectacle is full of vivid rhythms and bold orchestral colours. Khachaturian saw Spartacus as a tale of struggle, but also a love story. So, when Spartacus defeats the Roman general Crassus in the ballet, he also frees his enslaved wife, Phrygia. Their reunion begins delicately with solo woodwinds over a velvety background of strings and harp, before the strings take over for an impassioned statement of the big tune – one which later took on a life of its own as the theme for the TV series The Onedin Line.

Thanks to his Land of Hope and Glory, heard around the world every year at the Last Night of the Proms, we tend to think of Elgar as a souvenir of Britain’s imperial age. Yet, as an artist, he was essentially a Romantic outsider— insecure and inward-looking, who relied on the comfort of others— specifically his wife Alice and a small circle of friends—to reassure him of his worth. And it was as a tribute to his friends that his most famous work found life. One night at the piano, he played a tune and tried to imagine how some of his nearest and dearest might play it, or how he could vary the tune to express their character. Thus, the Enigma Variations were born, each one a picture of a different member of Elgar’s friendship circle.

Why is the most beloved of them—the ninth of the 14 variations—called Nimrod (the "mighty hunter before the Lord" in the book of Genesis)? It’s a tribute to his publisher A. J. Jaeger

(German for ‘hunter’). Jaeger was the kind of friend we all need from time to time— one who gave Elgar strength and courage when the composer felt demoralised. Elgar subsequently told Jaeger that the Nimrod variation was "just like you – you solemn, wholesome, hearty old dear."

Is there any musical of the 1950s with a score that has become as universally beloved as West Side Story (1957)? This streetwise adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet was a dazzling theatrical achievement, capped by Leonard Bernstein’s score – rhythmically exciting and soaringly lyrical by turns. The show’s success was sealed by the 1961 film version, which went on to win ten Academy Awards. That year also saw the debut of these Symphonic Dances, in which Bernstein takes a tightly controlled tour of the score, from the hushed delicacy of Somewhere to the visceral excitement of the Mambo.

West Side Story was Bernstein’s fourth Broadway musical. His first, On the Town (1944), concerns the adventures of three sailors on 24-hour shore leave in New York. The score is packed with great tunes, four of which you’ll hear in the show’s sassy overture: "New York, New York" (NOT the Frank Sinatra number of the same name); the beautiful ballads "Lucky to Be Me" and "Lonely Town"; and, finally, "I Can Cook Too."