![[Image of Lehrer's programs]](p26.jpg)
The first occasion I had to describe the kind of recitals I have been giving at the Amherst campus of the University of Massachusetts since 1968 was in the June 1976 Journal of the IDRS. To say the least, a lot of water has passed over the dam since then, not only in my own position but in all of Academe!
For one thing, at our campus the faculty became unionized. This event alone has made the faculty as a whole more aware of its duties in judging the work of its members. Classroom teaching as judged by student evaluations of every class, is taken more seriously than previously by the committee selected to review each faculty member's work. Also, committees of all kinds have proliferated in our Music Department, not only for the purpose of putting our shop in order, but also for making this very work available to each professor since, like teaching, committee work is required for any kind of advancement, pay raise, or tenure.
The third area affected by unionization is Creative Activity; for me this is specifically the giving of recitals both as a soloist and as a member of the Faculty Quintet. It is in this area of soloist that major judgments are made upon me. No longer are these judgments made on the "collegial" (elsewhere called "good old boy") system. Instead the committees must rely upon outside judgment (for convenience, this is spelled The New York Times) before making any recommendations.
Therefore, it is becoming more difficult to produce programs because of the uncertainty of favorable reviews. I find myself taking fewer chances in every way. And I find myself performing constantly the most difficult works in the repertory, specifically concerti.
In the nine recitals described in my 1976 article for the IDRS Journal, the stress was on the chamber music concept; each recital ended with some sort of ensemble piece. Now, I must say, one has to use discretion in this ensemble area for it is the soloist who is being judged and it is through the concertothat one may show one's capability to best advantage. As I stressed in my first article on this subject, the idea of playing works primarily by the greatest masters still holds true for me. A Pasculli or Kalliwoda composition must be played to perfection in brilliancy and then offset with music by Bach or Mozart to let the audience and reviewer know that you were only kidding!
There is another point I would like to make in this area of repertory; it is what I call the "Schubert Mean." The type of audience that comes to hear me play at the university is a real Schubert-loving crowd. You see, that is where the main interest lies: Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Brahms and Faure. I always keep in mind that the music of Hindemith is considered too rough in quality of sound and even the music of Poulenc is felt to be a bit too saucy for those ears. Trying to educate this group to the new music created since 1960 is fine, but much care is taken by me in this endeavor. I learned a hard lesson several years ago when I played the HindemithOboe Sonata and followed it with the PoulencTrio. One of these works would have been enough for this audience accustomed as it is to the sophisticated sonata-form movements of the "Schubert Mean."
This year I will be playing music filled with the newest techniques: bisbigliando, microtrills, glissandi, multiphonics and the like. But it will be only one extended work and the "hype" that I will provide in the newspaper sand via the poster will prepare my audience for this music.
Having set the scene of what I am up against in giving a recital in Amherst, l would like to take up where I left off in June of 1976 and describe the recitals I have produced for the University since that time.
The concerto chosen was the J. S. Bach F major. I admired it for the possibilities of ornamentation in its outer operatic da capo aria movements. I found these ornaments already worked out by Bach [and then] later transposed to E-major. I had to re-transpose both da capo sections and all of the Siciliano up to F-major and D-minor respectively, but it was worth it. Also, I wanted to become more involved with the English Horn during that period, hence my arrangement of the PoulencSonata and the Faure song cycle Mirages. The reviewer picked up on the Faure and said that I had the soul of a singer! There was little mention of the Bach; apparently I had played this for myself. The Poulenc was likened to Hollywood music, but the closing Bach duos received praise. Truly the concerto idea needed work: I wanted this audience to remember me by more than "Hollywood"music!
It seemed to be time for the HaydnConcerto. I would blow the audience away with this work and they would remember something special about me. In a word, it did not work! I spent a great deal of time on the florid ornamentation, especially of the second theme in the first movement and in the first theme of the second movement. Unfortunately the laendler Finale with variations is not brilliant enough. l began to wish that someone would uncover a lost concerto by Schubert or that Beethoven had finished his Oboe Concerto.
The Bach Sonata BWV 1030b was performed with organ in order that all voices would be clearly heard, which is not the case with harpsichord. Of course the flautists did not appreciate my performance of their music! The Hindemith English Horn Sonata is a solemn work which I played in memory of one of my students who had recently died of Reye's Syndrome: the first movement was preceded by the third movement of Britten'sMetamorphoses which was the last music I heard that student play. Hertel's Double Concerto for oboe and trumpet provided a light ending.
I decided to play four concerti. I knew that one of these would have to be a winner: I guessed it would be the Bach Oboe d'Amore Concerto, but again I had mis-judged the audience. Instead the audience was taken with the Strauss and Kalliwoda concerti. This is because it was surprised as a whole by both of these works; the Handel and Bach works were appreciated but there was no surprise, nothing special, since this audience of ten years had faith that I knew what I was doing in Bach and Handel.
Practically everyone who came up afterwards or who saw me in the following days spoke to me about the Kalliwoda, astonished that I would play such trivia. One composer asked me if Kalliwoda was a joke name! Someone asked if the concerto had been written for some kind of P.D.Q. Bach type of concert.
Of course I lavished ornamentation upon the slow movements of the Handel Concerto in G-minor. I had fun in later months after purchasing the recordings, comparing my work to that of Schaeftlein and Holliger, realizing that I had combined their divergent concepts of ornamenting this work. As for the StraussConcerto, my version precedes the opening motives of the first movement with an aria from Der Rosenkavalier sung by the Marschallin in Act I : "Die Zeit, die ist einsonderbar' Ding." This is my own personal solution to beginning this work, remembering that Strauss arranged the orchestral medley of waltzes from the opera shortly after composing the Oboe Concerto.
I would like to mention at this point that in learning music for my recitals I do not limit myself to the four or five solos but spend much time learning, through recordings and scores, many of the works that historically surround the solos that I will play. When I worked on the Vaughan Williams Concerto in 1975 I spent a great deal of time with the same composer's Symphony No. V, his Pilgrim's Progress, and the Serenade to Music.
I found the Bach Oboe d'Amore Concerto supremely difficult because of the fingerings needed to assure some semblance of intonation. I must say, that took my mind off the difficulties of the Strauss Concerto. I will need to play the Bach many more times in order to feel comfortable with it. By the way, it took two pianists to cover the orchestral parts. Many said this was too heavy: the next time I perform this work it must be with at least a chamber ensemble.
Within the week of Recital 12 I gave yet another entirely different concerto-type recital in our town's community center. I did this to put myself even further on the line. The Telemann and Vivaldi concerti were so relaxing to play. (See programs at the end of this article.) Each concerto was followed by a set of variations: first the Hummel, then the Rimsky-Korsakov. Many of the folks at this recital had never seen an oboe up close before and were "charmed" by it all. I had fun, and I would suggest this very recital to any oboist breaking into the "recital business."
The academic year 1979-80 was the "Year of the Oboe" for me! I would be on sabbatical during the spring semester of 1980 and I wanted to do something very special. The fall, though, was Faculty Recital time and the concerti flowed again. The little Telemann C minor Concerto was good lip and finger preparation for the very demanding J. C. BachConcerto. I would not recommend the J. C. Bach Concerto to any student, although many play it routinely. l spent a great deal of time working the special style of Classicism embodied within this music.
The following Pasculli Concerto tore the house down. Like the Kalliwoda of the previous year, the audience seemed to get very involved with this "take my wife. . .please" kind of music. And I gave those folks all the "schtick" that goes along with this kind of music making! (including a good foot stompin the right place).
The second half of the recital was gentler in tone: the Satie was such a pleasure to play. I perform the second Gymnopedie as a canon, and in the third I incorporate Debussy's melodic material from his orchestration for the piano to play.
The death of Ernst Wallfisch, who had been such a great support to me as a young player, prompted the Couperin L'Apotheose de Corelli. Ernst was a great lover of chamber music (believe me, he was the ultimate person with whom an oboist could play the MozartQuartet!) and he had recently become very involved with the music of Couperin bringing out a recording and an extended article for the Musical Heritage Society. Each movement was announced in French and in English so that the audience could follow the story of Corelli's ascent to Mount Parnassus.
A most wonderful opportunity availed itself to me for the spring of 1980: during my sabbatical leave I would play four oboe concerti with orchestra in Carnegie Recital Hall: Handel G-minor, Vaughan Williams, Bellini, and Bach Double and still yet a newly composed work. As far as I was concerned there was no other way that I would play in New York. I had read far too many reviews of oboists playing there with a pianist only and being criticized for the salon-type of repertoire basically available for this combination in such works as the Saint-Saëns Sonata, the BrittenMetamorphoses, and the Poulenc Sonata. I wanted to play the great oboe works for my New York appearance and I was able to accomplish this and get a good review to boot!
Before going to Carnegie in the second semester, the first semester would be needed for preparation and clean-up of any weak passages. Therefore, in November we presented the recital, minus the newly composed work by Bestor which was still in preparation. The reviewer preferred the Bach Double, which I shared with violinist Philipp Naegele, and this pleased me very much. But this would change by the time we got to New York for the orchestra was becoming very involved with the Vaughan Williams Concerto. The basic music for this New York debut was made up of works which I had played many times in the past and which as compositions I considered first-class in every way.
I could write a complete article describing the actual debut recital which took place in March of 1980. From the dealings with my manager, Norman Seaman, to the realization of the bass line in the Bach Double (combine the bass lines of the two harpsichords in the Double Harpsichord version) a whole new world of performance opened up to me. From this experience I would like to impart just one bit of advice to oboists: don't play in New York until you are ready. It took me 27 years of oboe playing and reed making to get prepared. Some persons will make it perhaps ten years sooner. It is just that it takes longer than say a pianist, in order for an oboist to take this step, because the oboist has to learn how to build a reed that will hold up under such intense pressure.
To bring such an exciting sabbatical to a close, I decided to give a musicale-recital on English Horn. My accompanist, at whose home this took place, is a man of modest pianistic ability, a good match for me on English Horn at this point; I was not ready to tackle the Persichetti Concerto and even the Yvon Sonata presented problems which I did not wish to surmount at the end of the semester. My concept of a musicale is light salon-type music, and that is exactly what we were able to evolve.
Originally the Reicha Recitative and Rondo and the Donizetti Concertino were scheduled, but both proved to be inferior to Cherubini's Deux Etudes (or Sonatas), a work originally conceived for French Horn. The Marcello and Fauré arrangements and the Mozart Adagio are all contained in Thomas Stacy's collection Solos for the English Horn Player. Schumann's Adagio und Allegro, also originally for French Horn, was the one substantial work played. It requires a few changes in tessitura to fit the English Horn, but otherwise feels comfortable. It is such a gorgeous work! Of course, the little audience loved us! It was as if they were in the drawing room of some great prince many years ago. Dinner and pleasant conversation followed the music. I would recommend this type of music making to all oboists after a tough semester.
I should like to speak somewhat about my projections of recitals to be performed in the near future. At the time of this writing I am preparing a joint recital with a flautist for September 7, 1980. I will be playing the little Bach Sonata BWV 1020, York Bowen's Sonata, which is a really major work, and eight of Florian Mueller's 25 Etudes in the New Style. We will end the recital with Vivaldi's Trio Sonata P. V. 402. This recital is surely a much easier production than those which preceded my New York debut. But I feel that I deserve a rest for the time being!
Soon I will be due for the promotion to full Professor and my rest will have to end because I am projecting two recitals to clinch this promotion. The first will be entirely on English Horn and will include the Persichetti and Wolf-Ferrari concerti, the Yvon Sonata and perhaps some Bach arias. I'd like to perform the Haydn Quartet if the strings are available. The second recital immediately preceding the vote of the committee on the promotion, will be on oboe. This will require memorable music such as the Bach cantata Ich bin vergnugt mitmeinem Glucke, Fiala Concerto, MoliqueConcertino, and either the Gordon Jacob II or Martinu Concerto.
If this sounds businesslike, it is meant to be! And I carry this procedure even further as I build my library of repertoire; at this time I am slowly trying to acquire all that is available, particularly in the 20th Century. Also, I have a detailed list which correlates the solo repertoire for oboe with the major symphonic, operatic, and chamber music repertoire. For instance, this makes it clear to me just how Saint-Saëns Oboe Sonata fits into the scheme of things; when it was published in 1921 it was up against pretty tough competition, stylistically speaking. At that time, Alban Berg's Wozzeck was well under way, Ravel had just produced the orchestral version of Le Tombeau de Couperin, and Stravinsky had recently brought forth the ballet Pulcinella. The Saint-Saëns work then seems stylistically old-fashioned, particularly in its final movement, when it is held up against these works for comparison. It suddenly becomes apparent that the Saint-Saëns does not represent the mainstream of what was happening in 1921, whereas later on in the century Berio's Sequenza VII of 1969 or Huber's Noctes of 1961 are major works for the oboe comparing favorably with the stylistic techniques in use in Penderecki's St. Luke Passion of 1965.
It is important for me to understand these relationships when programming Saint-Saëns' little work. It must fit against more substantial works. A mistake in this area of programming could result in an unfavorable review which in Academe results in a loss of prestige and, more importantly, money.
This article, then, really deals with survival of the oboist in Academe and like the preceding articles I have written for the IDRS on practicing and reeds, I am describing what is working for me in my situation. The hope is that my work will make it easier for future generations of oboists to create music under what can be, if handled properly, a very protective situation similar in many ways to that enjoyed by our predecessors in the courts of Europe during the 17th and 18th Centuries.
For further reading on this subject:
Goossens, Leon & Roxburgh Edwin. Oboe. New York: Schirmer Books, 1977.
Hosek, Miroslav. Oboen Bibliographie 1. Wilhelmshaven: Heinrichshofens Verlag, 1975.
Prodan, James. Oboe Performance Practices and Teaching in the United States and Canada. Akron, Ohio: The Institute for Woodwind Research, 1979.
Rasmussen, Mary. A Teacher's Guide to the Literature of Woodwind Instruments. Durham, New Hampshire: Brass & Woodwind Quarterly, 1966.
Wilkins, Wayne. Index of Oboe Music. Magnolia Arkansas: The Music Registrar, 1976.
![[Image of Lehrer's programs]](p25.jpg)