K. 27, Sonata in G

K. 27, Sonata in G

I’ve done some preliminary research on Princess Carolina. An interesting set of circumstances was going on during the Mozarts’ stay.  Princess Carolina had a number of family members die.  Someone, somehow, had determined at one point a woman could be a regent.  However her parents bore a son, Willem.  They were only a year apart.  Carolina’s Grandmother died in 1765, placing the young princess into the role of regent, for Willem was only 17. 

The spotlight blared on this young princess.  I could only imagine the pressure.  Was it her youth that attracted her to young Mozart?  She knew what it was to be young and in the spotlight.  Thus, had she be charitable to Mozart in such a way that he dedicated K. 26-31 to her?  Clearly.  These works were offered to her on a particularly peculiar day: Willem’s 18^th birthday, the day he became regent.  You’d think such works would have been dedicated to the new king.  Carolina must have played an important roll in Mozart’s life. And, he wanted to declare his appreciation for her leadership as she moved into 'retirement'. What exactly did she do?  I have yet to discover.  If anyone has more info, please share.   

So, on to K. 27.  This work is only two movements.  Not sure why.  Both are familiar to some of his other earlier works, but the first strums of the harpsichord in the andante poco adagio evoke the sounds of that opening violin solo in K. 219. This hint repeats.  The allegro movement rings similar to other allegros. 

K. 26, Sonata in E-flat

K. 26, Sonata in E-flat

Right now I am trying to sift through works of contention.  I am in period of Mozart’s life where various pieces ascribed to him during his Hague months.  He was sick for some time, and downtime lent itself to composing.  I was gone for the weekend, so it was hard to sort through which piece to listen to next.  Thus, I choose a work of little debate, and a work lumped in with others so I can comment further on their history in future blurbs.  I want to find out more about Princess Carolina, to whom K. 26-31 were dedicated. 

The first movement opens with an allegro molto. One hand of the harpsichord ticks like a high paced metronome.  Seems a theme through out the piece.  The first movement flutters with hopeful anticipation. The second movement is an adagio poco andante.  This combination of tempos is new to me.  I learned the poco mean ‘a little.’ What came to mind as I listened to this movement was a slow tango.  It has a dramatic attitude that is followed with a surrendering sigh.  Like when my oldest son becomes defiant in cries, when I removed the stimulus, he quickly caves in. 

The third movement is a rondo (allegro).  I’ve read that the entire work could be played with the keyboard alone, but this movement leads me to wonder how that could be.  The two instruments dialogue in such a manner that would seem dead with one instrument alone.  

K. 24, 8 Variations of Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren

K. 24, 8 Variations of Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren

I rambled on this one trying to figure out what I had to say.  Not sure if I even fully knew. 

I had mentioned in a previous blurb: on one of those singing talent shows, judges emphasized the need to hear a singer’s interpretation of a popular song.  What does that mean? Really?!  (I don’t watch these shows to often, but this concept must be a theme.)  Most of the time we have the first version stuck in our heads anyway. Why redo it?  Then to top it off, these shows put pressure on their contestants stating that they have to pick the right song that fits their personality. That impress the crowds.

What about songs that state what they have to say?

What am I trying to say? I don’t know.  Are even these words just the same recycled themes as those I’m shunning?

We’re all fighting to find the new different, but is there really anything new?

Don’t get me wrong.  Playing around with the established is a great exercise, but does anyone ever achieve lasting greatness that way? By greatness, I mean fame.  A lasting fame.  Mozart as a child was clearly famous.  The news reports about various child prodigies from time to time, but do we ever find out what happened to them as adults? Even if we do, do they go down in history?

How do these ponderings even remotely relate to Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren?

This was a popular song in The Netherlands and Mozart wrote eight variations of the tune. Clearly, playing with the established has practical benefits.  But, it has its artistic merits as well.  Working with the esteemed often forces us to zot neurons that may have never been stimulated otherwise. And thus, we might discover something new.  Often rebellion or a superior sense of self keeps us from such discoveries.

Laat ons Juichen, Batavieren may have been such an exercise for Mozart.  A discovery of what moods he could stir with a single melody.  With each variation, my moods shifted as follows:

1. A straightforward playing with little harmony.  The melody sounds like the old hymn Wonderful Savoir.  The mood is of an awed reflection. 

2. Joyful reflection.

3. A hopeful smile.

4. The added complexity suggests a celebration with friends and family invited.

5. Prancing with arms in the air.

6. Skipping and frolicking on an autumn trail.

7. A melancholy smile reflecting thanksgiving.

8. Waltzing with one’s beloved.

Sure, it is true, that working to impress others can be the source of discovery, but it can also be problematic.  First, the question of whom to impress arises.  Mozart did not have to decide at that age.  The primary target was his father, the secondary, those his father wanted to impress.   Everyone has a target crowd.  But, who is really worth catering to? Are individuals supposed to go around like politicians, changing tactics in order to gain artistic experience?

Second, typecasting.  When one devotes numerous hours into one region of talent, it becomes hard to grow beyond it.  Mozart had been branded as a child prodigy.  Leopold lied about his son’s age to extend that brand.  But, it could never be a sustainable brand.  Mozart would eventually have to grow up.

Last, if one wants to something great, he or she has to venture beyond what others request or expect.  Not too many people will remember that one guy who sung that one song that one time.  But, just ask people, “Who’s the King of Rock and Roll?”  We remember those who discover the new different. Even once someone has created something new, it may likely take time for someone to appreciate it.  Some artist’s don’t even get validation within their lifetime. 

Then, fact is, just because something is different doesn’t mean it is quality. (It’s quite subjective. I realize.)  Discovering breakthrough work without creating overreaching wannabe garbage is an anvil to the cranium headache. However, Mozart did it, in spite of his father’s nagging to stick with the popular. 

K. 22, Symphony no. 5 in B-flat

K. 22, Symphony no. 5 in B-flat

After Nannerl fell ill, Mozart joined.  It took months for both to recover.  During this time, Mozart wrote K. 22.  First thing I noticed was a new manner of horn use.  Was it something about The Hague that requested horns?  Was it his illness?  Or musical exploration?  There is something about horns that is declarative.  As opposed to the questioning strings and winds.  K. 22’s first movement starts of with a triumphant declaration—like that of a noble child raising his arms walking down the red carpet.  But suddenly, he swoons as he marches.  The allegro movement’s mood switches with such immediate intensity. 

The andante movement’s first horn blasts proclaim sorrow has arrived, the winds and strings mourn the announcement.  As the movement flows, it hints hope suggesting good might just come from the tragedy.  All the while, still weeping.  I can’t help but think of Leopold letter’s recounting his conversation with Nannerl as she neared death.  Trying to comfort her, suggesting God takes the innocent to spare them from the world’s corruptions.  Had such conversations affected this work?  Or even other pieces?

The third movement’s horn announces all is right once again.  Did this reflect Mozart yearning in the midst of his sickness?  The winds and strings chime in, ‘we have gone through hard times but they’re over now.’  Together they celebrate and reflect.     

K. 23, Conservati Fedele

K. 23, Conservati Fedele

Out of England, off to The Hague.  It is fitting that K. 23 is clearly a goodbye aria, solemn in its sound and lyrics.  Goodbye to what? London?  Or Nannerl?  His sister became deathly sick while in The Hague.  She received the rite of extreme unction.   Her unction and this song’s composition happened in October of 1765.  Leopold wrote in his letters that as he and his wife prayed with Nannerl struggling with life’s hard questions, little Mozart played his violin in the next room.  Leopold seems to suggest that Mozart was unaware of serious nature concerning Nannerl’s sickness.  But, sometimes that’s the power of art.  Mozart may have been either escaping or expressing the feeling he could quite convey via physical actions.  Most likely both. 

There is just something about historical artists of a certain greatest that made them unable to connect with average folks.  In addition, they also couldn’t simply bottle up their feelings in a John-Wayne-suck-it-up manner.  Examples of such artists Poe and Van Gogh come to mind.  And, thus mediums with staying power were born.  How many of these artists grew increasingly dejected because they felt as if no one heard them?  How many people with this mentality, think thusly? 

Conservati fedele may have possibly grown into an expression of goodbye for Mozart.  It was once revised for Princess Carolina.  I haven’t found out yet, but she must have played an important role in Mozart’s life.  (I will explore the Mozarts’ relationship with Princess Carolina as I delve into the next set of violin sonatas.)   I could imagine seeing woman cry as she listened to young Mozart’s revision.