P I E R C E G. W A N G
A L L S A I N T S ' D A Y R E C I T A L 2 0 1 3
P i e r c e W a n g , v i o l i n ● M i l e s G r a b e r , p i a n o
26 October 2013
Sol Joseph Recital Hall
SF Conservatory of Music
San Francisco, California
PROGRAM
Violin Sonata in g minor, “Devil’s Trill” — Tartini-Kreisler
Larghetto affettuoso
Allegro moderato
Andante – Allegro assai-Andante-Allegro assai
Partita No. 3 in E major, BWV 1006 — Bach
Preludio
Sonata for Solo Violin, Op. 27, No. 2, "Jacques Thibaud" — Ysaÿe
Obsession - Prelude: Poco vivace
Malinconia - Poco lento
Danse des ombres - Sarabande (Lento)
Les Furies - Allegro furioso
Grand Caprice Op. 26, “Der Erlkönig” — Schubert-Ernst
Mélodie, “Dance of the Blessed Spirits” — Gluck-Kreisler
Le Streghe, Op. 8, “The Witches’ Dance” — Paganini-Kreisler
Danse Macabre, Op. 40, “Dance of Death” — Saint-Saëns
Round of the Goblins — Bazzini
The Devil Wears Prada
and Plays the Violin
(program note)
Harpists have it made: they get to hang out with the good guys. For millennia, the harp has been associated with all things pure and wholesome, played by angels who sit on clouds eating grapes.
Pity the poor violinists, mired at the other end of the spectrum. For centuries, the Devil and his partner in crime, the Grim Reaper, have been tied to the violin. The history of the violin is teemed with accounts of virtuosos who sold their souls to the Devil so they could play the violin with otherworldly skill. And for all we know, they might be doomed for all eternity to eat Underwood Deviled Ham.
The great Baroque Italian violinist and composer Guiseppe Tartini (1692-1770) was one of the first violinists allegedly to have ties with the Devil. In the words of Tartini himself:
"One night in 1765, I dreamed that I had made a pact with the Devil, and that he was in my service; I succeeded marvelously in everything; my every wish was foreseen and my every desire more than satisfied by my new servant. It occurred to me to give him my violin and see if he succeeded in playing me some lovely piece, but what was my astonishment when I heard him perform with the greatest bravura and intelligence, a Sonata so singular and lovely that nothing I knew could equal it! Such were my wonder, ecstasy, and delight that I was left breathless and the violent emotion awoke me. Immediately, I took my violin, in the hope of finding again at least a part of what I had just heard, but in vain. The Sonata which I then composed is by far the best I have ever written, and I still call it the Devil’s Sonata, but it turned out so inferior to the one I had heard, that I would have liked to break my violin in pieces and forever abandon music, if it had been possible for me to do without it.”
So it is clear why Tartini composed this work: the Devil made him do it. The “Devil’s Trill” Sonata is filled with, well, trills. They come in all shapes and sizes: quick bursts, trills over double stops, and the like. The cadenza, by Fritz Kreisler, is nonstop double trills. If the piece were composed today, it might be known as “Triller.”
A composer certainly never associated with the Devil is Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), one of the foremost composers of sacred music. He also composed great secular music, and his six Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin are important pillars of the violin repertoire. The Preludio from the Partita in E Major, BWV 1006, is one of the most recorded and recognizable pieces for the violin and has inspired violinists for generations. In fact, the French violinist Jacques Thibaud often used the Preludio to warm up, and practiced it incessantly.
The Belgian violinist Eugène Ysaÿe (1858-1931) composed his Six Sonatas for Solo Violin, Op. 27, in 1923, as homage to Bach, and each was dedicated to a different violinist. The second sonata of the set was dedicated to Thibaud, a young colleague and frequent house guest of Ysaÿe’s. Ysaÿe poked fun at Thibaud’s “obsession” with the Bach Preludio by quoting it several times in the first movement, each time answering the quote with an almost violent flurry of notes. In addition, the Gregorian Chant Dies Irae (Day of Wrath), permeates the whole work, both overtly and covertly (Ysaÿe even imbeds it in the chordal theme of the third movement, in G Major!). So the devil is in the details, at least in this piece. The solemn Dies Irae, which is also heard in such acclaimed works as Hector Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique, Sergei Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, and Camille Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre, reflects the dark tone of the sonata and its obsession with death.
In 1818, Franz Schubert (1797-1828) composed his Lied, "Der Erlkönig", based on a poem by the same name by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. In the poem, the Grim Reaper takes the guise of
Erlkönig, or Erlking, a malevolent creature who haunts the forest and lures travelers to their deaths. His target here is a young boy who is riding with his father on horseback. Schubert weaves the text of the poem through his song, with the singer alternately taking the roles of a narrator, the boy, the father, and the Erlkönig himself. Rapidly repeating triplets played by the piano mimic the hoof beats of a galloping horse futilely attempting to outrun death.
Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst (1812-1865) was a highly esteemed violinist who, in his day, was seen as the logical successor to the great Niccolò Paganini. His Grand Caprice on Schubert’s "Der Erlkönig", Op. 26, is a violinistic tour de force. Ernst transcribes the Schubert song into what is considered one of the most technically challenging pieces written for the violin, featuring such daredevil stunts as double harmonics, left hand pizzicato and double stops played simultaneously, and chords that seemingly extend beyond the range of the hand, all layered over triplets played at a frenetic pace. Simply put, the piece is a “killer.”
Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787) was a noted opera composer of his day. Among his most famous works is Orfeo ed Euridice, an opera based on the mythical figure Orfeo and his attempt to rescue his beloved Euridice, who perished and was taken to Hades. An enduring part of the music is The Dance of the Blessed Spirits, a poignant melody played by flute. Fritz Kreisler arranged the piece for violin, and renamed it Mélodie.
Probably the poster child for the Devil and the violin is Paganini (1782-1840). He was the transcendent violinist of his day, possessing technical skill that had rarely been seen before, and composing works that pushed the boundaries of what was possible on the violin. Because of his prowess and flamboyance, rumors circulated that he had sold his soul to the Devil. Even his death was shrouded with these innuendos, as he was denied a Christian burial. Only after several years and a sizable donation from his son to the Church was Paganini interred on consecrated ground. In retrospect, his unique abilities on the violin could be more logically attributed not to his alleged Devil worship but to his extraordinary talent, his musical genius, and the possibility that he was afflicted with Marfan Syndrome, a disease often marked by long limbs and fingers and unusually flexible joints.
Paganini composed Le Streghe (The Witches’ Dance) in 1813. It is a theme with variations, and features in the Kreisler arrangement advanced techniques, such as double harmonics and left hand pizzicato. And to do justice to this piece that Paganini brewed, it must be played with a “Devil may care” flair.
Saint-Saëns (1835–1921) composed his Danse Macabre, or Dance of the Dead, in 1874, based on an old French legend about Death appearing each Halloween. The piece begins with twelve pizzicato notes, signifying the twelve strokes of midnight. Then Death plays tritones (known as the Devil’s interval) on the violin to rouse the dead from their graves. To Death’s accompaniment, the dead dance, and mayhem and debauchery ensue until the crack of dawn, when they must return to their graves and fall silent again for another year.
So does the Devil play the violin? Unlikely, just as he probably doesn’t eat devil’s food cake or deviled eggs, play hockey for New Jersey or basketball at Duke, or wear Prada (except maybe red). Then why does this myth persist? Probably for the same reason urban legends occur today: Marketing! Give the Devil his due: the guy sells tickets, even in the days of Tartini and Paganini. But this is a family concert, and the Devil and his ilk are not welcome here.
Davis Law
San Francisco, CA
October 26, 2013