S2.E92. Music to dispel the January blues - Mozart Sinfonia Concertante 1st and 3rd movements, Rachmaninoff Preludes, C#mi and Gmi, Goldmark Queen of Sheba Suite.

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Welcome back to Perfect Pitch with Nick Healy Hutchinson and his fresh approach to the world of classical music. Whether you're an expert or a beginner, old or young, Perfect Pitch has something for everyone.

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Yes, indeed. Welcome back as we start another year together. January is one of those bittersweet months. We begin full of hope, resolutions, and optimism on the one hand, and yet it's also one of those months after the build-up to Christmas in the New Year when that optimism is balanced. And perhaps at times outweighed by a sense of anticlimax, anxiety, and even fear. I read an article recently by a highly respected journalist who listed the ten composers he could not live without. There were plenty of predictable names, but I was more surprised by what I thought were some glaring emissions. Precisely what we need in January, regardless of whether you're listening in winter or in the summer. I mentioned recently how the viola comes in for a lot of gentle mockery. For some reason, it's the butt of more jokes, none of them especially funny, than any other instrument. Slightly larger than the violin, it has a deeper sound, and if you don't necessarily notice it in an orchestra, you would definitely be aware of its absence. Don't take my word for it. Listen to these few moments of one of the great conductors of the last century, the Romanian Sergei Calebodacci, whose attention to detail is almost unrivalled. Rehearsing a passage in the first moment of Bruckner's Seventh Symphony. And a word of warning, if you're listening on headphones, it might be a good idea to turn the volume down a bit. Back to the viola. I can't tell you how close I was to shouting that. In 1779, he wrote a symphonia concertante, so called because it's something of a hybrid of the symphony and the concerto. In this case, there are two solos a violin and a viola. And although their parts are quite distinct from the orchestra, they are nevertheless much more integrated than a typical concerto. Such dialogue as exists can be heard more between the two of them rather than between them and the orchestra. And you will notice as we listen to this opening movement how the two of them do not make a grand entry but emerge out of the orchestra as if they've been part of it the whole time. This is such a gorgeous and uplifting piece of music, brimming with optimism and freshness, and quite the best way of dispelling any January blues. Daishing Kashimoto is on the violin, and Amihai Grosh is on the viola, with Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. The Prelude in C sharp minor. We've not listened to any of his solo works before, so let's listen to this now, followed by another, almost equally famous, M G minor, written nearly ten years later. Composers aren't necessarily the best at playing their own pieces. In fact, Rachmaninoff once said that Vladimir Horovitz played Ratmaninoff's infamously difficult third piano concerto better than he did himself. But I don't think you can quibble with these. Both of them are played by the composer. And you'll notice that everything is crisp and blissfully devoid of excess peddling. If I say Queen of Sheba, what do you say? A rival of, probably, and perfectly reasonably. But a Hungarian composer, Karl Goldmark, who spent most of his life between 1830 and 1915 in Vienna, wrote an opera called The Queen of Sheba. He actually wrote a good deal of music. But he's now only really known for his rustic wedding symphony, his violin concerto, and the Queen of Shuba. Even that doesn't get performed nowadays. Probably because large-scale romantic operas have not really been in vogue for a rather long time. But next Friday, the 16th of January, a group by the name of the American Romantics is releasing the Queen of Sheba Suite. I'll give you details of how you can get hold of it later. But this is where I'm more than glad to hand over to Kevin Schoen, the American Romantics artistic director, to tell you a little bit more about the opera and the music. Kevin mentions the term portamento, and for those of you not familiar with it, it means the seamless transition from one note to another.

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Carl Goldmark's music for The Queen of Sheba was a direct response to a uniquely dramatic world and a spectacular setting of opulent images and ancient characters. The work's grand scale and blend of diverse musical influences created a monumental experience that made it Goldmark's breakthrough work in the year 1875. The Queen of Sheba quickly became an audience favorite and was staged nearly every year for over 60 years at the Vienna Court Opera, which is now known as the Vienna State Opera. The music itself was renowned for its theatrical splendor, rich lyricism, and vibrant, nuanced portrayals of ancient characters in their narrative context. Our new recording is the result of a close collaboration with the Yale Collection of Historical Sound Recordings. We studied the collection's recordings of Goldmarks' contemporaries who starred in the opera The Queen of Sheba during the early 1900s. It was inspiring to listen to how these romantic-era artists approached the expressive details of phrasing, articulation, tempo rubato, and portamento. We aimed to understand how their approaches, which differ from contemporary assumptions, brought out the melodic and harmonic richness of the music, and sought to compel an audience into the opera's dramatic world and storytelling. You're about to hear the opening ballet of Act Three, where Goldmark combines a carnival-like atmosphere with the magnificence of the banquet hall setting. Within a feeling of elegance and royalty, the ballet foreshadows what's to come for the main character Asad, and ultimately his tragic fate.

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You can find all the necessary details on their website, American Romantics, or one word, dot org. Let's finish today by returning to Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante. Incidentally, I forgot to mention the superbly controlled crescendo in the first movement before the soloists emerge. If you didn't notice it the first time, it's definitely worth going back to. The piece has three movements, and it's almost a crime to leave out the middle one, and the finale is so completely life-affirming that none of us is immune to this kind of tonic at this time of year. Happy New Year wherever you are. And please keep in touch.