Two concerti

Various Concerti and Orchestral Works; Danish Radio Symphony Orchestra; Kjell-Inge Stevennson, clarinet; Frantz Lemmser, flute; Herbert Blomstedt, conducting

During my sophomore year in college, J. came to me and said, “Mrs. R. told me to tell you that you would become a god to flute players everywhere for the rest of your life if you learned how to play the Carl Nielsen Flute Concerto, which, by the way, I will play on my junior recital in January. I have a position open for a god. Would you like to take a stab at it?” Well, where do I start? J. has a beautiful smile. I’m a sucker for a beautiful smile. Carl Nielsen lived almost his entire life in Denmark. I’m a sucker for anything Danish. And who doesn’t want to be a god?

We rehearsed five times for this recital. The Nielsen concerto took up virtually all of our rehearsal time. We read through the other piece that she had programmed during our first rehearsal and never bothered to run through it again. On recital night, we took the stage to play the easier piece first. After playing the first sixteen measures of introduction, J. walked over to the piano … without the beautiful smile … actually with a look of beautiful scorn. “The piece is in G MINOR! NOT G major.” Oh. Well. Lookee there. Flats, not sharps. Whichever celestial being doles out certificates of accompaniment god-doms must have noticed my little snafu, because in twenty-three years I have never again received a request to play that piece.

In my second year at CCM, H. came to me and said, “Mr. deK. told me to tell you that you would become a god to clarinet players everywhere for the rest of your life if you learned how to play the Carl Nielsen Clarinet Concerto, which, by the way, I will play on my chamber recital in March.” Smile. Sucker. Danish composer. Sucker. Second chance to become a god. Yup. Sucker.

A concerto traditionally is a symphonic work that has the orchestra serve in an accompanying capacity behind a featured soloist. Over the years, various composers have placed their own brand on the popular musical form. Beethoven wrote the Triple Concerto, Opus 56, in C Major for Violin, Cello, Piano and orchestra. Brahms wrote a Double Concerto in A Minor for Violin, Cello and orchestra. Ernest Chausson wrote a Concerto for Violin, Piano and String Quartet, Opus 21, with the string quartet serving as the accompanimental ensemble.

When money is short, or an orchestra is unavailable, composers have typically written a reduction, or transcription, of the orchestra for piano, so that the piano covers the accompanimental duties. So, performance of a piano concerto requires the presence of two pianos – one for the soloist, one for the orchestral part.

In Mr. Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto, the snare drum has a particularly prominent part; so much so that the composer left that part in when he wrote the transcription of the orchestra for the piano. H.’s programming of this work on her chamber recital required a piano and a snare drum. H. had asked her friend E. to play the snare drum on the clarinet concerto. The performance went very well for all of us, but H. outshone the two of us E.’s.

Apparently, the celestial being that doles out certificates of accompaniment god-doms must have noticed our grand performances, because, three years ago, a clarinet player from the Marine Band asked me to accompany him on this piece. The snare drummist (?) also plays with the Marine Band.

I enjoy both of these concerti (plural for concerto) immensely, but, for the more mainstream classical music fan, they probably smack of “too-much-20^th-Centuryism”. The history of these pieces is interesting, though. At the time that Mr. Nielsen composed his Fifth Symphony, with its periodical disruptions by the snare drum, he also wrote the Wind Quintet, Opus 43, for a group of wind players that he knew personally. He resolved, at that time, to write a concerto for each member. He completed the concerti for the flute and the clarinet. Then he had to stop because he died.

Two years ago this February, I played the second and third keyboard parts to a school production of “Les Miserables”. After the last performance, the bass trombone player, C., called me up from the orchestra pit so that I could meet his wife. “Erik, this is E. E., this is Erik.” I know you from somewhere. “Yeah, I think we’ve played somewhere together.” What instrument do you play? “I play percussion.” Where did you study? “CCM.” Snare drum, Nielsen Clarinet Concerto, with H.? “Oh, my God ……..!”

Credits: To J., H. and B., for asking me to play the accompaniment to these glorious pieces. You are the gods, not me. Although I have a certificate that says that I am one. Thank you, celestial being.