Not Bad, for a five-year
old
A look at Mozart's first five
written compositions.
The resume of the young Mozart is
well known--in fact, his exulted status as one of
history's greatest composers (THE greatest by some
standards), nearly rests on it. By the age of three he
was picking out harmonious sounds on the keyboard. By
the age of four he was writing pieces for piano and
orchestra, and by the age of five he was touring
Europe, playing for kings and queens. This last fact
is beyond dispute; for the first two, we have the
father's excited testimony. Leopold knew very well
that people pay attention when a young child
demonstrates skills that seem beyond the reach of many
adults. He capitalized on the fact, asking the young
Wolfgang to do things that were calculated to thrill
his listeners, and lure them into awe over items that
in many cases were not really so difficult to achieve
as they might seem to non-musicians. Leopold's gambit
was that his child could wow Europe by seeming to
display a talent that came from nowhere; a pure
manifestation of the Divine, needing no training and
no effort. A clear miracle. And he seems to have
believed it himself. When the child Mozart grew older,
he found, in fact, that he had outgrown this market
and people were much harder to impress. It was then
that he wrote his greatest music, for this same fickle
audience.
Leopold was right about the
persistent thrill that a child prodigy has on people.
The myth is so strong that Mozart is chiefly
remembered for it today, despite the fact that, even
in his own time, child prodigies were crisscrossing
Europe, some probably every bit as precocious as
little Mozart. Their names are mostly forgotten to
history, and certainly to the mass consciousness. It
was the development of the talent, not the ability to
play the piano upside-down, or through a cloth, or
even to play something without music, having heard it
only twice, that insures that Mozart will not soon be
forgotten.
One rather important item missing
from this little equation is the teacher. Mozart
happened to be born to a very musical father, a very
gifted composer in his own right, who cultivated a
very demanding relationship with his son from the
earliest sign that Mozart had musical gifts. He set
Wolfgang all kinds of musical assignments, even to
refashion the solo piano sonatas of other composers as
pieces for piano and orchestra that are his first four
attempts in the genre. Characteristically, he claimed
it was all Wolfgang's idea, and that the pieces were
original. In fact, the concertos were simply
arrangements of piano sonatas by other composers, not
original compositions (still astonishing for such a
young child). They were excellent compositional
exercises, and a great way to prepare to write such
pieces oneself--the kind of exercise a teacher might
pose his student. Leopold 'recalled' a scene wherein
his young son was discovered at home, setting ink to
paper (and making quite a mess with his four-year old
penmanship), determined to write a piano concerto, a
concerto which the astonished father determined would
be nearly impossible to play. "That is why it is a
concerto" his undaunted son supposedly said, "you have
to practice it a lot!" The legend lives on.
According to the research of
Koechel, Mozart's
first five pieces were short dances written for the
piano alone (or, just as likely, the harpsichord).
Four of them are titled "Minuet"; the third one is
called "Allegro" from the Italian musical instruction
for "fast". They are all generic titles, but they do
indicate something specific. The Harvard Dictionary of
Music says that a minuet is "an elegant dance movement
in triple meter (usually 3/4) of enormous popularity
ca. 1650-1800."
It is quite likely that Leopold
would have had his son try his hand at this kind of
composition--minuets are usually short, and their
structure rather rigidly defined. They consist of two
parts, this first of which comes to rest five notes
above its original central pitch, and the second,
which restores the original center of gravity. This is
the framework around which many much larger and more
complex works (like, sonatas, symphonies, concerti,
and so on) revolve; a journey away from the
established tonal base and, after some imaginative
wanderings (not-so-imaginative in some cases!) a
return trip.
The piece given
the designation
K. 1, which makes it, as far as our
(outdated) research is concerned, the first thing that
Mozart ever wrote (that survives, anyhow) is in these
very necessary two parts, moving in the first away
from its home bass in the key of G major, to a
temporary stop on D. The section is then repeated.
Leopold must have instilled this very important tonal
lesson in the young composer; we will invite you to
experience it here by clicking, at your pleasure, on
the file marked G, which simply plays the original
central note, and then on D, to hear where we are
going. The shift is more obvious here than it will be
in some of the other minuets, because not only the
bottom note, where the foundation of the harmony lies,
is a D, but the melody does not contradict it by
attempting to provide harmony.
G A
B
C
D
First Part
Second Part
The minuet proper here is followed by a
contrasting section called a trio, which is often in a
different (but related) key. In this case, C major. Five
notes above C is G, which is, not surprisingly, where we
are going to go at the end of the first part of the
trio; for, indeed, the trio mirrors the minuet in that
it also has two parts, the first of which travels up
five notes to rest on its dominant (the theorist's term
for the note on the 5th degree of the scale) and the
second of which returns to the original tonic, or first
note. If you want to check your center of aural gravity,
the C and G are provided for your tonal entertainment.
C
D
E
F
G
First Part
Second Part
After the trio, the minuet is repeated.
This gives the whole composition a sense of balance,
which was extremely important during the time that
Mozart was writing (the Classical period, which is
something specific and does not refer to all music
written in an artistic vein--as in "I like classical
music" but the period from, roughly, 1750 to about
1810).
Mozart also tries to keep the outlines
of his piece clear by constructing each of his musical
sentences (phrases) so that he gives out a simple
rhythmic gesture, repeats it, and then accelerates to
the end, when the phrase comes to a graceful stop.
Listen to the parts separately, and notice their
similarity to one another in this regard. The major
difference between the two parts is really their
harmony, not their rhythm.
Once the major theme of the piece
has been established (and repeated, for the sake of
clarity), it is often necessary to break new ground, or
the ear will tire (notice the back half of each part of
the trio; if one of Mozart's less gifted contemporaries
had written it, it might have sounded
like this).
Was Leopold able to instill this all-important lesson in
the young Mozart, or did Wolfgang somehow figure this
out on his own? It was, at least, a lesson he learned
well, and distinguishes him from many other composers of
the time, who, once they'd come up with a good opening
idea, seemed to run out of things to say. Mozart, as is
often the case with truly gifted composers, makes his
musical phrases get longer and his rhythmic drive
increase later in a section, rather than present his one
good idea up front and then let it stall completely or
repeat it to death, as is frequently the case in pop
music or the so-called classical stuff that history has
forgotten about. It may be easier to memorize such an
oft-repeated idea, but it makes the piece itself a whole
lot less interesting. In any case, here is the entire
composition again:
Minuet, K. 1
Mozart's K.2 is not a musical mountain. It is much
shorter than K.1, actually; it does not even have a
trio section, but only the two parts of the minuet.
It is less ambitious than the first
one, and seems to grapple with the idea of a thorough
working-out of a small gesture, which is only
one measure long.
You'll notice that Mozart does not
follow up this elegant gesture by doing something
random,
like
this but rather repeats the same da-da
dum dum rhythm two more times before settling on a very
stylish cadence--a sort of musical
punctuation mark. Then he starts afresh with a gesture
that has the same rhythm as the first, but now
climbs upward.
He
repeats it,
climbing one note higher, and a
third
time. Thank heaven he
accelerates the rhythm just a little bit, giving us all
a nice
surprise just when all
seemed lost. (here is what the passage would
sound like otherwise)
Now begins part two. You'll recall that
part one ended on the "Dominant"; that place five notes
above where things started (actually, here is that
cyber-pitch-pipe again so you can check it)
F
C
Part one
The journey this time has been a bit
different than in the first minuet. In K. 1, Mozart
actually forecast what was going to happen later in the
piece by making the opening a sort of harmonic
palindrome. He answers the
first gesture
(which hints at the "dominant" harmony) with a
second
that neatly wraps up the loose end, sort of like
answering your own question, and explains why I feel
that Mozart's music often seems to "rhyme". It is hardly
the last time he will begin a composition that way. Some
examples:
the opening of the
c minor sonata
outline of the harmonic palindrome
c
G G c
the opening of the
G major sonata
outline of the harmonic palindrome
G D
D G
the opening of the third movement of the
D major sonata,
k311 outline of the harmonic
palindrome:
D A A D
If Mozart had chosen to do the same
thing with this minuet, it might have gone
like this;
instead, Mozart begins the second half of the first
part by rapping on the C three times in the bass to
get our ears there, but it is a less convincing, and
less conclusive cadence, and Mozart knows it. He
continues on into part two by traveling through a
minor key and then repeating the process one step
lower. If you compare
this spot to the same
spot in the first minuet you'll hear that he is doing the same
thing harmonically, only it is taking him twice as
long to get there because he makes an
entire phrase out
of the first "level" before moving a step down
and
doing the same thing with the second.
Now Mozart, apparently stalled for
something new, and determined to finish the way he
began, repeats the opening idea twice. The first
time he realizes that if he ends there, that section
of the piece will be a stand-alone and will sound
incomplete because it does not have a second phrase
to balance it, and so he chooses to play it again,
but he does not want to simply repeat it because it
will sound gratuitous! (an odd problem--more musical
material needed for the sake of balance, it is a bad
time to go off and do something new, but the piece
can't end before it is over. How many grade-school
children have ended their book reports by saying
"well, I guess that is all I have to say" because
they can't think of a good ending, but they still
feel they need
an ending, at least?). His
rather clumsy solution to this is to but a
D in the bass
instead of an
F, which prevents
the piece from sounding like it can be finished
since we are on the wrong harmony (called a
"deceptive cadence" in the biz since we weren't
expecting it);
then he repeats the phrase and, merely by changing one note
(the final bass note now becomes an F) we are back
where we started, and everybody's happy. Except the
almighty reviewer! (Ok, I give this one two stars
out of four; it is still pleasant enough, and too
short to sound really really repetitive, though it
is remarkable what can be accomplished in a short
time.)
here it is again:
Minuet, K.2
It is hard to
know with these pieces where Leopold leaves off and
Mozart begins. Leopold was clearly concerned that
Mozart learn the proper procedures for various kinds
of composition. As with Newton's laws governing the
behavior of celestial bodies, it was widely believed
that music must subscribe to commonly agreed upon
methods of construction in order for a piece to be of
excellent quality; if it was cleverly done, that was
what mattered. The expression of an individual
personality was not prized. And Mozart, like all
children, was an imitator. He happened to be a very
good one! And yet, it is interesting to ponder whether
a bit of Mozart's persona made it into the writing of
K. 3, the
only non-minuet in the bunch. It is a fun, spirited,
almost silly piece which I loved to play as a child.
Certainly,
the opening
gambit this time makes it so, but also the treatment
of the a
very lively second gesture,
which is repeated, causing the
phrase to be out of balance. I will play you the
opening section
without the repetitions in
it
-- it is not
as funny this way. Mozart has also chopped up the
opening measures so that there are now two ideas
following one after the other. The second is not
easily anticipated by the first--it sounds a bit
like a cadence, as though the piece were over
already, after only two measures, which must
contribute to the comic effect.
The same tonal
journey that occupied the first two minuets--indeed
all five pieces--is on display in the first part; we
are not so concerned with it here, but you can check
the pitches for yourself
original key:
Bb
dominant key:
F
The second part begins in a
manner...well, it is exactly like the first two
pieces! You can compare them yourself (K. 1,
K. 2,
K. 3)
Evidently, at
this most dangerous juncture, when a composer, faced
with the need to turn the tonal stagecoach around and
prepare for a smooth return to the original key while
also playing with the opening idea in a way to invite
a bit of variety without threatening the piece's
consistency--this was too much for Leopold's nerves,
and he insisted that Mozart adhere to the same
harmonic formula each time. Each place is a
"sequence"; the files you are hearing each come
unscrewed in the middle; they are the same thing
repeated a step lower, which leads us safely back to
the place where we can regain the opening idea.
It is at the ends
of both the first and second parts that we find Mozart
at his most impish; true to the construction and
spirit of the opening measures, he repeats the second
idea, but this time it is with a few ornamental notes,
which give it a ticklish quality. And we may nod our
heads knowingly and say, "that is pure Mozart for
sure!"
an encore
performance:
Allegro, K. 3
If we want Mozart at his most
straight-laced the next selection is sure to hit home--K. 4 is again a
minuet, and it is not burdened by any attempts at
light-heartedness. To my ears, it seems to suffer from
redundant phrases--every idea is repeated, sometimes up
an octave, but straight repetition nonetheless.
The
opening measures
are different however in that each of the four measures
(you'll hear them as two ideas of two measures each) is
unique; there is no repetition here. It is as if Mozart
is learning to write in longer sentences. He repents of
it by repeating the next
idea before going on to
the
cadence. There is always a
danger in giving the listener too much information at
once; repeating a short idea is usually catchier, but it
is less of a challenge for the composer.
The second part
begins differently than it does in the first three
pieces we've discussed--Leopold must have been
listening to our critique of the other pieces. This
time, the
sequence--an
idea repeated a note or two higher or lower--goes up.
It takes us right back to the opening idea, but this
time Wolfgang repeats
the first half
of that long opening sentence which increases the
tension while we wait for that pent up energy to
release in a flurry of notes. We will have to wait
while Mozart dishes out the second idea, exactly as it
was near the beginning of the piece--we want symmetry
here, after all, and he
repeats it just as he did before. For my money,
this repetition could be gotten rid of, as I think it
stalls the piece's momentum. Curiously, I think it
works well in the first part of the piece.
Leopold, having some experience with
various styles prevalent in different courts in Europe,
may have introduced Mozart to different styles of
composition and different problems with putting them
together. I am not an expert in minuet styles. But I
have noticed a likeness between both K. 4 and
K. 5. The graceful triplets are still
there, of course, but harmonically they are identical.
In fact....
Here, I will show you. I'll play
them
both simultaneously.
They fit together pretty well. (For the sake of
clarity, I have to play one in the low register and
one up higher, like a piano duet; I can do this
because I have a multi-track recorder. Both pianists
are actually me.) This is because except for a minor
change at the end, the "chord changes" are
identical--the same progression of harmonies in the
same order.
Leopold may have
used a harmonic template, as teachers often do,
suggesting that Mozart try various experiments with
rhythm and melody while keeping to a preformed pattern
in the harmony. (Here is a bare-bones version of what
the
chords alone sound like for this piece--and the
other one).
I find the
virtuoso flights of notes particularly refreshing after the
straight-jacket of
ultra-elegant triplets in the beginning. How about you?
For me, the
miracle is not that Mozart was only five when he wrote
these pieces. For one thing, it is not certain how
much of these pieces were truly his idea, and how much
his father's. That is really not the point. The point
is that young Mozart was able to absorb and imitate,
to begin making compositional decisions, and
ultimately, to find not only his voice, but to write
effectively in a number of styles and fashions and so
make music the world is still talking about, and more
importantly, listening to. These five are not the
great masterpieces of his later years; they might, in
spots, already show us some superior musical
apprehension, but they are not great. They are,
however, very nicely done, especially if you are only
five. Even if you are twenty-five.
Frankly, I'm
impressed that a five-year old could even sit still
long enough to write these!
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