WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791)
Symphony No. 31, K. 300a (K. 297), Paris (1778)
In 1777 Mozart, accompanied by his mother as chaperone, set off on a job hunting trip through several important European cities, including Mannheim and Paris. But nothing turned up for the young man who was sick of his provincial hometown of Salzburg and his despised employer, the Prince-Archbishop Hieronymous Colloredo. In the French capital he was invited by Joseph Legros, Director of the Concert Spirituel, to create a symphony for the feast of Corpus Christi—the present Symphony No. 31. Like many 17th and 18th century composers, Mozart wrote with a specific ensemble in mind, the Paris Orchestra, which had excellent string and clarinet sections, and which Mozart showed off here. (In fact, the Paris is his first symphony to use clarinets.) It wowed the Parisian public at its premiere. In a letter of July 3, 1778, Mozart writes to his father of his success: “…Just in the middle of the first Allegro there was a place I was sure they would like. The audience was quite carried away – and there was tremendous applause. …The Andante also found favor, but particularly the last Allegro, because, having observed that all last, as well as first, Allegros begin here with all the instruments playing together and generally unisono, I began mine with two violins only, piano for the first eight bars—followed instantly by a forte; the audience, as I expected, said ‘hush’ at the soft beginning and when they heard the forte, began at once to clap their hands. I was so happy that as soon as the symphony was over, I went off to the Palais Royal, where I ate a nice ice, said the rosary as I had promised—and went home—for I always am and always will be happiest there.”

JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Symphony No. 4 (1885)
“God forbid, it is nothing so aristocratic—I’ve merely put together another collection of polkas and waltzes,” Brahms wrote to his friend Max Kalbeck about his Fourth Symphony, in the typically deprecating way he had when he was about to give birth to a masterpiece. It is Brahms’s farewell to the symphony—his final great work in the genre, whose supreme master he was (despite his initial dread of standing in Beethoven’s shadow). It is nothing less than a summing up of what he had learned about composing for orchestra. This symphony did not easily find a place in the orchestral repertoire—it is austere and tragic, although defiant. Even Brahms’s more ardent and loyal admirers were reluctant to praise it. When Brahms heard a performance of the Fourth in Vienna many years later, he was accorded a tumultuous ovation. As he stood to receive it, tears streamed down his face. At last his work had received the recognition it deserved. The composer died less than a month later. Though a Romantic at heart, Brahms chose the classical modes of expression he had inherited, reaching back to Bach and beyond for techniques like counterpoint and the Baroque passacaglia form (he masterfully varies an 8-note motif 30 times in the finale). Speaking with deepest emotion and resignation in this autumnal work Brahms had reached the pinnacle of his magnificent symphonic output.

ANTONIO PAPPANO
Conductor, born in 1959 in Epping, England
Today, Antonio Pappano is music director of the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and the Orchestra of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia in Rome. But his beginnings were a far cry from this world. He was born in Epping, England to impoverished Italian immigrant parents, who had arrived with “just one suitcase and ₤5 in their pockets.” His “career” started at age 10, when he played piano for the singing lessons his Neapolitan father gave to earn a living. The family moved to Connecticut when he was 13. “Tony” (a name the jeans-and-T-shirt-clad conductor is called at the Royal Opera House) continued his musical studies while playing piano in places as diverse as local churches and cocktail lounges. He progressed quickly from there, working as a coach at New York City Opera, winding up as Daniel Barenboim’s assistant at the Bayreuth Festival. At age 42 he was appointed music director of the prestigious Royal Opera House Covent Garden in London. Critics regularly apply terms like “passionate,” “high-octane,” “electrifying,” and “radiating vital heat” to him. Perhaps it’s the result of how he gets singers and players to perform at their peak: “I think I’m good at enthusing and encouraging people to give of their best.” When he talked to The Independent about whether conducting is an art or a craft, he said: “It’s everything from digging ditches to praying, and everything in between. When you’re studying as a conductor it’s an amazing thing. Because more than any other musician you’re working in silence. Or you should be. You drink in the material, and after you know the harmony you sit around at the piano for a bit, finding the concept of the thing, finding the truth. That’s a beautiful thing, almost a spiritual thing.”

“He is a kind of god. This man, descended, yes, from Neapolitan peasants, can turn a wet November night into a journey to hell and back, a journey that gives you a glimpse of a heaven that may not be there, and of a hell, while war remains, that always will be.” (The Independent)

“The unstoppable maestro: Pappano knows how to coax the stars, and never leaves anyone simply to follow the orchestra’s lead.” (The Telegraph)