by Thomas Nickell
Piobaireachd-Nocturne
Piobaireachd, or pibroch, literally “piping” in Scottish Gaelic, is the term for a traditional musical form for the bagpipes in Celtic nations, notably Scotland. The form is characterized by deep expressivity without an extra-musical program, placing the abstract nature or purity of sound at the front of the composition, something unique among folk music traditions which are often tied to dancing or storytelling.
My use of the form derives from 20th century Scottishcomposers such as Eric Chisholm and Ronald Stevenson, who explored the relevance of this expressive form to contemporary music, composing new works in a modern style that utilized the classic drones of bagpipes and occasional traditional melodies as foundations for experimentation.
My Piobaireachd-Nocturne for Orchestra is directly inspired by the character of these 20th century works, which to me laid fertile ground for exploring my personal style. The first half of this work explores the melodic side of the bagpipes, while the second half explores the drones of the bagpipes, in a sense allowing the “bag” to overtake the “pipes”. A violin soloist emerges from the orchestra supported by large melodious chords in the winds, and battles against swirling asynchronous drones in the strings, letting the orchestra become a massive, albeit soft, bagpipe.
Beethoven — Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 61
As is is often the case with Beethoven, the Violin Concerto in D Major takes a well-known genre and reimagines its possibilities and scale. Composed in 1806 in a remarkably fast period of inspiration, it was premiered by violinist and composer Franz Clement in Vienna a few days before Christmas 1806. The premiere was not well received, possibly due to Clement receiving the solo part so late that he had to read from Beethoven’s messy manuscript during the performance. Following this performance, the concerto sat unplayed until 40 years later after Beethoven’s death, when it was revived in 1844 by a 12-year old prodigy named Joseph Joachim. Joachim would make his mark on this work for future generations by providing a brilliant cadenza still favored to this day.
The music of the concerto is powerful, elegant, spiritual and highly individual. It’s a wonder Beethoven wrote only one violin concerto, until one realizes perhaps he felt he said all he wanted to say. One of the most striking parts of this work is the very first bar, where the timpani alone plays one note repeated 4 times, creating an ambiguous and almost militaristic atmosphere quickly reoriented by the simple ascending and descending main theme. This four note motif comes back all over the first movement however, often as a point of interruption. In fact, the strings’ very first entrance is on a non-diatonic D-Sharp, re-establishing the sense of mystery for the rest of the movement.
The second movement is gentle and spacious, allowing the solo violin to soar above the ensemble with florid lines and virtuosic ornamentations. The movement ends with a direct transition to the frolicking third movement which feels very open and direct after the space of the second movement. The concerto ends with an ascending arpeggio based on the main theme in the solo violin, followed by two final fortissimo chords.
Brahms — Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73
Brahms’ Symphony No. 2 feels immediately like a departure from his Symphony No. 1, not least for the fact he wrote it in over one summer where it took him 21 years to complete the first one. The Symphony No. 2 was composed in 1877 during a visit to the Austrian town of Pörtnschach am Wörthersee, where Brahms stayed and composed for the summer.
The symphony appears serene and almost happy at its start, though Brahms felt quite differently about his life at this time, and the content of this work reflected that in his opinion, saying, “I have to confess that I am a severely melancholic person, that black wings are constantly flapping above us, and that in my output–perhaps not entirely by chance—that symphony is followed by a little essay about the great ‘Why.’ If you don’t know this, I will send it to you. It casts the necessary shadow on the serene symphony and perhaps accounts for those timpani and trombones.”
This mood becomes more apparent in the slow second movement, where the tremendous beauty of the main theme is interrupted by darker brooding music. The third movement begins with a sweet melody in the oboe accompanied by the strings. This melody actually turns out to be a transformed version of the first three notes of the first movement.
The final movement, cast in sonata form, returns to the brightness of the beginning, yet more broad and forward moving. This movement concludes with big chords in the trombones that lead to a beautiful, bright ending that provides some hope for the future Brahms.
