MAURICE RAVEL (1875-1937)
PIANO CONCERTO IN D FOR THE LEFT HAND
Ravel's Piano Concerto for the Left Hand was written in 1930 at the request of the Austrian pianist Paul Wittgenstein (1887-1961). At the beginning of the last century, he had begun a promising career, but in 1915 he lost his right arm during the World War. As the repertoire for the left hand was extremely limited, he set about commissioning new music from a long line of prominent composers: Ravel, Strauss, Prokofiev, Franz Schmidt, Hindemith, Korngold and Britten.
Ravel wanted the concerto to sound as if it had been written for two hands: "I have composed in a style similar to the often powerful tonal language of the traditional piano concertos. After the introduction and an improvisational episode follows a jazz section. Only later does one notice that this is based on the same themes such as the introduction."
The left-hand concerto is distinctly dramatic and held in dark, saturated colors. When it was given in Paris the year after the premiere in Vienna, the music historian Henry Prunières wrote that one could hardly believe anything other than that the solo part was performed with two hands, and sometimes even with four. It says something about the degree of difficulty but also about Ravel's ability to take the limitation as a challenge.
LENNART DEHN
Introduzione: Andante non troppo. Allegro vivace
Giuco della coppie: Allegretto scherzando
Elegia: Andante, non troppo
Intermezzo interrotto: Allegretto
Finale: Pesante. Presto
When this music was written in 1943, Bela Bartók had two years left to live. He had come to the United States fleeing a Europe at war and clawed his way through a few lean years in New York. The honorary doctorate at Harvard provided no income. In addition, he became increasingly ill, what previously appeared to be tuberculosis turned out to be leukemia. But he continued to compose as always. Work was his life - and pleasure too, if you will. Like a child, he rested by doing other things.
He was first and foremost a music ethnologist, that is, a recorder and collector of folk music. And it was among other things this immeasurable library, more than 13,000 melodies, he was so keen to save the Second World War. Countless trips in Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Slovakia and Turkey were made with a phonograph as a memory aid. In between, he composed, on top of that a whole lot of teaching as income and change, and of course an extensive activity as a concert pianist in many countries. In addition, he was interested in collecting plants, beetles, learning new languages. Palestrina's music was always on the piano and he never traveled without his thumbed score of Stravinsky's Spring Sacrifice under his arm. Is there a diagnosis for this? we would ask today.
The music Bela Bartók wrote was highly influenced by all the music he saw and heard on his collecting trips, but in the later works you can also hear how fascinated he was by the Baroque masters. The concerto for orchestra was commissioned by the Sergei Koussevitsky Music Foundation. Bartók himself has described the music as a journey from austerity via an ominous song to a life-affirming ending. Like Mozart, he composed incredibly quickly, he couldn't get an idea out of his head until the next one appeared. With such a cacophony within, it is no wonder that throughout his life he sought out quiet places.
Bartok himself saw the collection of folk music as his greatest and most important deed for more than one reason: "…the brotherhood of peoples, brotherhood despite all wars and conflicts. I try - as best I can - to serve that idea in my music: therefore I reject no influences, whether Slovak, Romanian, Arabic, or from other sources." (Bartók, 1931)
KATARINA A KARLSSON