60. Autumn.

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And all at once, in the words of Oscar Wilde, summer collapsed into fall. That's exactly how it feels this year. The transition seems to have been almost instantaneous. Autumn is well and truly upon us, and the daily sound and spectacular sight of migrating geese sends its own singular sign. In the summer, I played the relevant part of Evaldi's four seasons. So let's start today with the autumn section. It's worth recalling that each of these four concertos had its specific sonnets attached. So there's a very clear story embedded in each part. References are even made in the score of the music. The concerto follows the traditional pattern of fast, slow, fast. And each movement itself has a particular tale to tell. The first opens with a dance, followed by a solo violin, whose technical wizardry is supposed to reflect drunk and disorderly country folk before they fall asleep. The second is all about that little kip, and the third movement depicts a hunt, with a brief interlude on the cello reflecting the hapless victim in the chase before the hunt resumes and the inevitable occurs. When you know all this, it does give the music some kind of meaning, however familiar with a piece you might be, as I'm sure you will be. Autumn from the Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi is played here by Anne Sophie Mutter and Friends. I'm not sure what violin she is using, but does she ever get a huge strident sound from it when she needs to? One of the strange offshoots of the pandemic is that the habitual and largely unnecessary throat clearing between movements is now all but a distant memory. I'm not one of those stuffy people who think that clapping should be reserved for the end, but it is now clear that coughing was almost an instinctive habit, and long may that awareness last. After all, when did you last see a musician do anything more than mop a brow? I have not played you any chat coffee in a while. So we're now going to listen to the Pizzicato from his fourth symphony, written in about 1877, soon after his brief and disastrous marriage. I've often wondered whether this is actually rather painful on the fingers, and no doubt somebody will let me know. I remember how in one live performance I attended, Colin Davis was conducting, and mid-movement just dropped his hands completely to allow the orchestra to continue without him. You couldn't put a cigarette paper between any of them, and that reflects an extraordinary mutual trust. The Pizzicato, the third movement and Tchaikovsky's fourth symphony, is played here by the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Mrs. Love Rostovovich. It actually started his life as a serenade, but the result was his 35th symphony, inevitably coming to be known as the Hafner. The final moment is Mark Presto, and we're told that Mozart gave clear instructions that it should be played as quickly as possible as long as the clarity was preserved. This happens to be one of the shortest and most breaky finishes of any symphony. A whisper bring start with a very brief pauses before launching into a relentless charge. The freshness and clarity in this recording is the unmistakable sound of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra conducted by Charles Macarris. National mourning for our late Queen came to an end after the state funeral last week. But the royal family have observed one further week, which comes to an end this Monday, 26th of September. So it's a perfect time to play one of Hubert Parry's songs of farewell. Many of us, I'm sure, will recall the address Earl Adeset gave to the nation during COVID, which he closed with the words, We will meet again. And this is very much the hope expressed in John Gibson Lockhart's poem, There Is an Old Belief, to which Parry set the music. Parry is now best known for writing music for two popular hymns, Jurisdom and Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, as well as the anthem, I Was Glad. In his own lifetime, his music divided the pin, as I know it still does. But anyone who becomes head of the Royal College of Music and can count Vaughan Williams, Gustav Holtz, Frank Bridge, and John Allen amongst his pupils can't have been all that bad. And its supporters officer outnumbered his distractors at his bed at the Port Cathedral. As a consequence of early tuition on the organ at St. George's Chapel Winter and at Schoolboy Eaton College, Parry developed a natural tendency towards core music. The songs of farewell were written just before he died, falling victim to the last major pandemic at Spanish Flu in 1918. The anthem is in three verses, and although the diction from Voch's 8 is exceptional, I'll give you the words to allow you to absorb the music. There is an old belief that on some solemn shore, beyond the sphere of grief, dear friends shall meet once more. Beyond the sphere of time and sin and fate control, serene in changeless prime of body and of soul. That creed I fain would keep, that hope I'll ne'er forgo. Eternal be the sleep, if not to waken so.