And so here is your obligatory summer piece, titled (what else) “Summer”, by Antonio Vivaldi.

Vivaldi wrote 500 concertos, though musicians will say that he actually wrote the same concerto 500 times. Most of these concertos are given really interesting titles – for example, “Violin Concerto in D” or “Violin Concerto in E” or maybe even “Violin Concerto in F.” In a sea of compositions with very similar names, four of his concertos stand out above the rest (not surprisingly) because they bear a title that suggests something extra-musical. The Four Seasons (having nothing to do with Franki Valli) are four Baroque concertos that musically capture the spirit of the respective times of year – Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. This sort of use of extra-musical influences is known as Program Music, and is commonplace nowadays. If a composer today wrote a piece called “A Cold Winter’s Day” or “The Ice Storm”, we wouldn’t think twice about it; in fact, we would probably begin making assumptions as to how the piece would sound, built on the musical ideas handed down through generations of wintery composers. But in 1720, for Vivaldi to write a Concerto that captures the spirit of summer AND to title it “Summer” was out of the ordinary.

In a time when composers wrote prolifically as a matter of course, Georg Philipp Telemann exceeded all other composers in the sheer amount of music he produced (over 3,000 pieces – and by “piece” I don’t mean a 3-minute ditty for keyboard, I mean a 20-minute cantata or suite for orchestra.) He was a self-taught musician who had a real talent for writing great music – but more importantly, a real mind for business. He did not die a poor penniless pauper (the way many of us imagine musicians die), but instead a successful business person whose work was the rage of 18th-century Europe. More than that, he was a forerunner in the idea that a composer’s work is his/her intellectual property, which helped shape the future of Art Music and publishing.

This short piece from an orchestral suite captures the sound of a Scottish Reel – or, at least what a 18th-century German thought a Scottish Reel would sound like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLxTZVAnPzc

Many Christians celebrate Trinity Sunday on the first Sunday after Pentecost. What is interesting about this is that it is the only Christian feast that celebrates a doctrine as opposed to an event or person. This doctrine – the Holy Trinity: One God in three Persons – has been discussed and argued throughout history and is regarded as a holy mystery. And like many mysteries, people have tried to wrap their brains around it and explain it using our limited, logical speech.

This is where, perhaps, a mind like Johann Sebastian Bach could help out the philosophers and theologians. His Clavierubung III is a marvelous piece of music, but it’s practically a work of theology as well. It will be impossible to unpack this volume in one blog post. In this book of music, one of the few that Bach managed to publish in his lifetime, Bach shows his heartfelt devotion to God and gives an homage to Martin Luther, who was seen as the liberator of Protestant Christians and in many ways, the founder of modern Germany.

The Prelude & Fugue in Eb are the first and last pieces in the Clavierubung III. Besides the less subtle use of Eb – a key with three flats – the prelude can be divided into three distinct themes. Each theme, however, can not stand alone; they require the other two themes to complete the work. The fugue is actually three different fugues. Despite the uniqueness of each fugue, the subject of the first fugue finds its way (unsurprisingly) into the second and third; so, what seems like three fugues is actually one.