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.

If you live anywhere near where  I do, the rain is really coming down today!

Art imitates life; you can find all kinds of musical attempts to capture the spirit of a good cleansing storm. You got your gentle snow storm, your generic winter storm, and then you got your classic thunderstorm, compliments of Gioachino Rossini and his opera, The Barber of Seville. Like most Italian opera, it’s light and elegant.

Since the end of World War II, there has been a renewed interest in the music of the renaissance era. Gradually, this music that was once considered ancient or irrelevant has risen back into the mainstream Art Music world. The problem was, musicians in the 1950’s played the renaissance music the same way they played modern music. Some musicians questioned the wisdom of this, and began researching the instruments and practices of the earlier musical eras. The result was like finding an old tarnished work of art, and polishing and restoring it to its magnificent luster. The modern, bright brass sound was traded for the older, mellow, rich sound of older instruments. Over-vibrating strings and voices were replaced by a softer, straight-tone style. Slow, ponderous tempos were replaced with agile dances. It wasn’t enough to simply play the notes from the old scores – much more research and effort was needed to make the music come back to life. This approach to playing old music became known as performance practice, and was firmly rooted in the Art Music world by the 1980’s. Nowadays, it is expected that any performance of older music follow at least some, if not all, of the principles of performance practice.

The 1950’s approach to old music is similar to walking through a historical city – you admire the buildings, read a few historical placards, maybe buy a souvenir. The performance practice approach would be a historical city where there are people, in costume, doing the things that were done centuries ago – like stepping back in time. It’s more than an amusement, it is an experience!

On of my first exposures to performance practice early music was through the work of Paul McCreesh, performing the music of Giovanni Gabrieli, also featured in this previous post.