Notes from the concerts given by the National Symphony Orchestra January 16 17 and 18 1979 featuring Lewis Lipnick as contrabassoon soloist in world premiere performances of the first concerto ever written for the instrument:
A native of Washington, D. C., Lewis Lipnick joined the National Symphony in 1970. He attended the Peabody Conservatory on a full scholarship where he was a student of Gerald Corey and the (National Symphony) Orchestra's bassoonist Kenneth Pasmanick. While in school, Mr. Lipnick was a member of the Baltimore Chamber Orchestra and served as an extra in the Baltimore Symphony. Upon receiving his Bachelor of Music in 1968, he was awarded the Harold Randolph Award for Musical Excellence. He also studied at the Mozarteum in Salzburg, Austria and was a member of that orchestra. From 1968 to 1970, Mr. Lipnick was bassoon instructor at the Interlochen Arts Academy at Interlochen, Michigan. As a member of the Interlochen Arts Quintet, Mr. Lipnick was involved in various recordings and toured extensively through the Midwest. Mr. Lipnick is presently a bassoon instructor at George Washington University and the Selma Levine Music School. In addition to his playing the contrabassoon with the National Symphony, he also performs with the Twentieth Century Consort, a contemporary music ensemble. It was at Mr. Lipnick's suggestion that the National Symphony commissioned Gunther Schuller to compose the first concerto ever written for contrabassoon and orchestra.
There has always been a real need for solo literature for the contrabassoon. Much of what has been written falls into the category of comical effects. This concerto was to be the first of its type (for contra and orchestra) ever written. In addition I hoped that through the means of a fine musical vehicle by an eminent composer, certain misconceptions and prejudices about the contrabassoon might be put away for good. I hoped for a new "image" for the contra as a useful and expressive solo instrument in its own right, just as are the tuba and the double bass on occasion.
After studying the contrabassoon seriously for several years and after playing on many fine instruments by different manufacturers, I had become more aware than ever before of some basic limitations which could be rectified by the makers if sufficient demand and interest were to come about. By planning an important new solo composition featuring the contrabassoon, perhaps pressing the instrument to feats of technique or expression never before required, I hoped that many players would sense with me the need to encourage the makers to further improve and refine the instrument.
Finally, the first two movements began to fall into place. Four weeks had passed, and I could feel musical phrases beginning to take shape. At my next meeting with the composer, Mr. Schuller told me he was very happy with my progress.
When the last two movements and the cadenza arrived (4 weeks prior to the first performance), my technical command of the instrument had much improved. I also found this music more idiomatic for the instrument (except the cadenza). The cadenza is beautiful and allows a great deal of technical display but is also musically very rewarding. The playing order of the concerto is: I . . . I I . . . I I I . . . Cadenza . . . IV. Although less preparation time was available for the rest of the concerto, I fortunately found it not too hard to add to what I had already "built". Nevertheless, it was a very difficult task, all in all.
Gunther Schuller was deprived of the opportunity to attend the orchestra rehearsals because of very bad weather. However, I had the privilege of 3 "piano" rehearsals with the conductor. Rostropovich was very helpful, especially in such areas as phrasing and tonal coloration. He really understands the contrabassoon ! !
The rehearsals with orchestra went quite smoothly; the orchestral parts are not too difficult. The score demands a huge orchestra: contra-bass clarinet, bass clarinet, an orchestral contrabassoon (!), two piccolos, two English horns, four trumpets, four trombones, a large percussion section, and full strings. The resultant orchestral sound is beautiful and very interesting, extremely colorful. Everyone in the orchestra liked the concerto.
Final preparations included choosing between three good reeds: one rather bright (made by Frank Schwartz) and two of my own, a flexible-smooth solo reed and one slightly heavy in nature. I decided on the flexible-smooth reed. Even though it was not as loud as the other reeds, it gave me the most possibilities for tonal flexibility.
The three performances were a huge success. The audiences were astounded and fascinated. I am sure that most people did not know what to expect. By the enthusiasm of their response, they seemed to be very pleasantly surprised. And, very importantly, the piece of music was a fine success with everyone.
I hope to perform Gunther Schuller's concerto with other orchestras wherever possible. The second performance was recorded by U.S. National Public Radio and will be broadcast worldwide.
I hope that other contrabassoonists will become interested in performing the concerto. And I hope that other composers will now consider the contrabassoon worthy of serious consideration as a successful solo voice, perhaps bestowing additional concertos to the slender repertoire in the near future.
Most happily, Mstislav Rostropovich hopes to make it possible for me to record the Gunther Schuller Concerto for Contrabassoon and Orchestra.
Paul Hume, The Washington Post:
"With every apt compositional device in the way of rhythmic variety, harmonic color and melodic invention, (Gunther) Schuller surrounded Lewis Lipnick's contrabassoon with a wealth of sounds that never lacked an inventive idea.... The concerto . . . is a taxing assignment, and one that may, with today's instrument, still be beyond reasonable reach, in spite of Lipnick's authoritative playing. For example, there were times when the solo instrument simply could not be distinguished from its friendly colleagues. Perhaps adjustments in the making of the orchestra's lowest wind voice could give it greater carrying power in its middle and upper range.
The writing for both soloist and ensemble was a great skill and imagination, with fascinating passages for everyone. The audience did not miss the humor with which the scherzo quickly passes, or the work involved in Lipnick's body English and disciplined breathing."
Theodore W. Libbey, Jr., The Washington Star:
". . . the Schuller concerto is a true masterpiece. It sparkles, it's brilliant, it does just what it intends to do and it does it with tremendous skill in a musically interesting fashion. Not only does the contrabassoon have the time of its life on stage, but the whole orchestra is given a chance to play a piece with real musical substance, to make a sound-fresco of the most refined and artistically satisfying dimension. The NSO responded to Schuller's exquisite writing for orchestra with deft playing in each of the work's four movements. What writing it was, too --from the remarkable opening aura of bells and high harmonics in the strings (against which the stentorian first solo of the "contra" proclaims dominion over the instrumental nether-world) to the colorful and atmospheric scoring of the concerto's mercurial Scherzo . . . Lipnick's fine legato, remarkably secure high tones and successful negotiation of extraordinary leaps in the solo line gave firm testimony to his virtuosity. Though he seemed to be rather nervous at a few junctures, as befits someone breaking entirely new ground, he never failed to play beyond the technical difficulties of the solo to its musical aims."
GUNTHER SCHULLER
Born November 22, 1925, in New York City
Now
living in Newton Centre, Massachusetts
Gunther Schuller, distinguished educator, administrator, author and music historian, is best known as a composer and conductor. . . . The concerto for Contrabassoon, . . . was commissioned by the National Symphony Orchestra at the suggestion of its own contrabassoonist, Lewis Lipnick . . . Mr. Lipnick had long deplored the lack of solo material for his instrument, and in Mr. Schuller he found a sympathetic spirit, as indicated primarily in the music itself, and also in the following remarks, which the composer has kindly supplied for this occasion:
"I suppose the first question that arises in everyone's mind is: "What is a nice composer like you doing writing a contrabassoon concerto?" I think the answer must lie in my background, both professional and philosophical. My father was a violinist in the New York Philharmonic for 42 years, and my whole childhood was filled with the sounds of the orchestra. Further, I became a professional horn player myself and was very active in several major American orchestras where I suppose I developed a special awareness of the expressive technical potential of certain orchestral instruments which have been generally neglected by composers, such instruments as the double bass, the tuba and the contrabassoon.
Or perhaps my interest in writing a contrabassoon concerto can be related to my natural bent to defend or support the underdog. Whichever it may be, I had had the idea of writing such a work for a long time, inspired by such wonderful passages for the contrabassoon as are found in Strauss's Salome, Gliere's Ilya Mourometz Symphony, Ravel's Mother Goose Suite and two of the great wind serenades, the one in D minor by Dvorak and Mozart's Gran Partita in B-flat. But even there, with the exception of the two serenades, the contrabassoon is generally stereotyped as an instrument limited to the depiction of evil, of monsters, beasts, etc. (the depraved, twisted Salome, the brigand Solovei in Ilya Mourometz the Beast as opposed to the Beauty in Ravel's Suite, and other assorted misfits and monsters in the romantic literature). Indeed one can measure the contrabassoon's standing among orchestral instruments in proportion to its close relative the bassoon, which is still perceived as the "buffoon" of the orchestra. The contrabassoon fares even less well, alas, in locker room jokes, mostly unprintable, and in snide asides that the instrument's name really means "against the bassoon".
All of this, I think, is quite unfair, and says more about our own lack of perception than about the actual character or capacity of the instrument. An instrument is what a composer and a performer make of it. And while I am quite sure that my Contrabassoon Concerto will not automatically convince everyone of the instrument's potential for "beauty" and "good", I do cling to the hope that it may help to correct or extend the prevailing myopic, perception of the contrabassoon and also challenge performers to greater heights both technically and acoustically!
There is another aspect of composing a concerto for contrabassoon that I would like to mention. Since 99.5 per cent of the world's musical ears quite naturally expect a melody or theme to occur in the upper or middle range, the composer of a contrabassoon concerto faces the special compositional technical-acoustical problem of attracting the listener's attention to the nether regions of the human auditory range. (The highest note presently attainable on the contrabassoon is C-sharp directly above middle C.) The simplest way to do this should be to let the contrabassoon play unaccompanied and without any distracting interference from other, more "normally" voiced instruments. But such a work would quite probably be a bore, and in any case not a concerto. Thus I faced to an unprecedented extent the unusual problem of establishing for the listener the unquestioned soloistic priority of the contrabassoon, i.e. of consistently attracting the listener's ears to that lowest range of our auditory spectrum, lest mere accompanimental or secondary passages--let us say in the flute or violin-- might be heard as primary, while the real primary material in the contrabassoon might be ignored or perceived as secondary. Tactful disposition of such elements as dynamic balance, density, degree of activity and such age-old questions as the relationship between melody (or theme) and accompaniment became extremely crucial in the very composing of the piece.
The Concerto is in four movements, the third and fourth being linked by a solo cadenza and played without interruption. The first movement begins by contrasting the contrabassoon in its lowest register with the high violins, piccolos and a sprinkling of celesta, harp and glockenspiel. This more-than-five-octave registral gap is gradually filled in by the addition of other instruments (clarinets, bassoons, violas) and the gradual ascent of the contrabassoon into its highest range. All participants meet at the logical rendez-vous point -- middle C. A second subject puts the contrabassoon through some challenging technical paces--leaping passages, careening runs and the like -- only to recapitulate the opening section, now modified and embellished and in turn led to a gentle, lyrical coda.
The second movement is a scherzo, pure and simple, replete with trio (somewhat more tranquil), designed to show off not only the contrabassoon's agility but its sense of humor. Toward the end -- like the broom of the sorcerer's apprentice -- the contrabassoon bifurcates, figuratively at least, into two contrabassoons, the soloist being joined by a colleague in the orchestra, and the movement comes to a merry double-your-pleasure ending.
The third movement, Lento alternates various lyrical passages with long melodic lines in the contrabassoon, all under a constant string tremolo pedal point. The aforementioned cadenza leads directly to the Finale, Allegro vivace in which the contrabassoon's material is varied and embellished in two successive recapitulations, producing in form a rather brief rondo. The last of these variations slides unexpectedly into a quiet coda which turns out to be the ending of the first movement, gently reorchestrated and ornamented."
Mr. Schuller advises further that he made his first sketches for the Concerto in Odessa last June, while on a tour of the Soviet Union with the New England Ragtime Ensemble. Serious work was begun in September and the score was completed on November 25, 1978.