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HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

Nocturne in B Major for String Orchestra, Op. 40 Antonin Dvořák (1841–1904)

Duration: 9 minutes

Artists who do not consign their secrets to the fire are doomed to have them resurrected by heirs or well-intentioned executors. The attic is no place for abandoned projects, it turns out, not if you are famous enough. Dvořák, ever practical, saved many of his orphans himself, but not for posterity. He wanted to be responsible for their new lives if he could and sought ways to repurpose some of them into fresh works. One such piece was an E-minor string quartet from 1870 that, for all its flaws, had a lovely slow movement that Dvořák just couldn’t give up on. The quartet was never published during his lifetime, but it came to light later in 1960 (see what I mean?!).

In 1875, the Andante religioso movement found a new, if temporary, home as part of the G Major String Quintet. That idea didn’t stick either, however, and it wasn’t until 1883 that Dvořák set aside the idea of placing this music into a muti-movement context and presented it instead as a stand-alone piece for string orchestra. The Nocturne is a hypnotic, nearly static hymn that lazily uncoils itself over the course of its brief minutes and, though clearly the effort of an idealistic young man, it is every inch a thing worth saving. Dvořák conducted the premiere in London on March 22, 1885, and subsequently arranged it for solo violin and piano, and again for piano four hands. Both are quite nice, but they can’t compete with the original, full-ensemble version.

Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791)

Duration: 25 minutes in four movements

The final three symphonies of Mozart (Nos. 39, 40, and 41) are almost always spoken of as a set. Many elements make this possible, even necessary. First is the remarkably quick succession of their completions on June 26, July 25, and August 10, 1788. Next is the desperate hoped he pinned on them to reverse his recent bad fortune. Not least, then, is the staggering innovation and profound maturity they contained, as if even Mozart knew he would not write another. But, of course, he didn’t know that. He had no idea he was living his last three years on Earth. Mozart, in fact, was planning to premiere his latest symphonies at a series of concerts in a new venue called the “Casino,” but the performances didn’t happen for lack of sales. No wonder. War with the Ottoman Empire was sapping the strength and draining the wallets of Austria, true, but Mozart’s star had fallen steadily on its own in Vienna over the previous few years. Tastes were changing and it’s hard to imagine the audience enjoying the new pieces much if they had heard them that year. This was the case of a composer having simply outgrown his listeners, which is what makes it so tempting to imagine him writing Nos. 39, 40, and 41 for us, not them. The E-flat major Symphony distinguishes itself in interesting ways. It employs no oboes, a rarity in late Mozart. It begins with a slow introduction. And it has a finale built around a single theme with no coda. We don’t know if Mozart heard this dramatic, dissonant symphony live before he died (it is possible, though unprovable), but we have been listening closely ever since.