Georg Friedrich Händel (1685-1759): Concerti Grossi Opus III & Opus VI 

Whereas Opus III was worked out one by one throughout the youthful years, the second collection, entitled Twelve Grand Concertos in seven parts for / four Violins, a Tenor Violin, a Violoncello / with a Thorough Bass for the Harpsichord / Composed by George Frederick Handel. / Opera sexta, was composed within a period of time surprisingly short for an artist in full maturity. These twelve concertos actually were created within one month, from September 29 to October 30, 1739. Played immediately as interludes in performances of the Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, Alexander's Feast, Acis and Galatea and L’ Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato (between November, 1739, and March, 1740) at the Royal Theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields in London, they were published by subscription beginning in April, 1740. To write a concerto grosso every two days, or almost, would constitute a remarkable feat even if they were just little casual works. But the most astounding fact is that each of these concertos is a mature, original and well-knit work, some of which could be considered the summits of Handel’s art. With seven string parts (concertino: trio; grosso: quartet), Handel succeeds in bringing to fruition all that instrumental art of his time is able to give. Four concertos (No. 1, 2, 5, 6) admit, it is true, oboe parts in the original manuscript. These are obviously doubling parts added for a particular occasion, as shown by the fact that the composer himself did not want to include them in the various published editions supervised by him. We feel that, as so often in art, whatever adds nothing does more harm than good, and that the interpretation by strings alone is preferable in its sobriety. Completely different in architecture, instrumentation and style, Opus VI is equal in artistic and historic importance to the Brandenburg Concertos. One as well as the other is at the same time one of the most personal masterworks of its author and a masterly synthesis of the various musical currents of the period. Whereas, with Bach, the structure of the work is evidently the result of a pre-established and skillfully balanced plan, it seems that, with Handel, the form is being born at the same time as the musical thought and is formed in some way by the inspiration determined by the varying conditions prevailing at the moment. This causes a certain loss in strength, but a gain in suppleness and warmth. One must never lose sight of the fact that Handel was inspired by visual impressions. We would risk being gravely led astray if we tried to ascribe a precise meaning to this or that page, but it is quite certain that picturesque intentions are frequent, which brings this music closer to French art than does the occasional use of the Lully-type overture. Here we wish to call attention to a fact that occurs too often for it to be mentioned each time: many movements are interrupted shortly before their end, leaving a more or less long silence before the final broadened statement. This interruption may differ in character and call for varying interpretation. Often it definitely invites improvisation, and we did not fail to assign little cadenzas now to the harpsichord, now to the soloists of the concertino. But sometimes it is a sudden, dramatic interruption of the musical discourse. In that case, we feel that, by filling out that silence charged with meaning, we would run counter to the composer’s intentions. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 1, in G major, opens the series in that noble as well as smiling style which is Handel’s very own. The first movement, like many of the most striking and most characteristic pieces of the composer, is marked a tempo giusto, but it would make no sense at all to translate this as “in exact tempo.” It really means ‘in even motion,’ without rubato, like a somewhat solemn march. You will note with what poetry and, at the same time, what simplicity Handel avoids a conclusion by diluting these precise rhythms in the veiled sonorities of the coda which leads to the Allegro. This movement, after a sharp, slogan-like theme, introduces a figure of repeated notes pervading it in almost continuous fashion and giving it a trembling undertone of clear harmonic progressions. The Adagio also seems as though marked by a distinctive sign in the form of a little rhythmic cell of the violoncello which lends a continuous undertone to the ample melodic developments of the upper parts. A fugal Allegro follows, introduced by the two solo violins and taken up by the tutti in that clear, neat and cheerful manner characteristic of the happy moments in the Alexander's Feast Concerto. Note that the subject also appears in inverted form. The finale, Allegro in 6/8 tiime, has a typically Italian charm and is, moreover, clearly related to one score or another by Torelli or Sammartini. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 2, in F major, was the preferred choice of Romain Rolland who called it the “Beethovenesque Concerto.” This is what he has to say: “To Kretzschmar, the whole evokes ai beautiful autumn day. It is, in fact, difficult, when hearing it, not to have impressions of nature. The first Andante larghetto, which for moments recalls the ‘Pastoral’ Symphony, is the dream of a beautiful day... The Allegro in D minor that follows is a cheerful game, a bounding dialogue between the two solo violins of the concertino, then between the concertino and the grosso. There again certain robust and rustic bass passages recall the “Pastorale.” The third movement, a Largo in B-flat major, is one of those instrumental scores into which Handel put the most of himself... There is in this little poem a melancholy which seems to revive personal memories. The Allegro ma non troppo that ends the work is, on the contrary, of jovial bonhomie, again completely Beethovenesque. It seems to be sung as though while marching... In the middle of this march a phrase of the two solo violins arises like a... hymn of thanksgiving.” The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 3, in E minor, opens with an expressive Larghetto, the structure of which is as simple as it is ingenious: three times the concertino answers differently to a question posed identically by the tutti. A fourth and last time the two groups unite in conclusion. The beautiful fugal Andante that follows evokes the world of Bach’s cantatas with its mournfully disjointeed subject and its garlands of triplets charged with chromaticism. The Allegro, in turn, with its vigorous unison and its second theme in repeated notes is one of the very few pieces in this collection that turns our thoughts to Vivaldi of L’Estro Armonico. The Polonaise, andante in G major, is very original and charming. Its sharp rhythms lean on a drone bass (bourdon) in the style of a rustic musette. Here the popular vein is happily wedded to very elaborate writing. A brief Allegro ma non troppo, concise like a Japanese No, serves as an ending. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 4, is in A minor. It opens with a magnificent Larghetto affettuoso, treated as a monody declaimed by the first violins over a very discreet accompaniment by the rest of the orchestra. The fugal Allegro is a solidly built movement in strict tempo. The Largo e piano is very simple and recalls the church sonatas of Corelli, sharing their suavity and quietude. The trio structure can be clearly distinguished: dialogue of the violins over a continuous motion of the basses; the violas only filling in for balance. There is something fantastic, even strange, about the final Adlegro. Romain Rolland again invokes Beethoven. We like to think - without being able to define it - that a folklore influence is concealed here. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 5, in D major, opens in the manner of a French overture, with a Larghetto e staccato in dotted rhythm started off by the first solo violin and taken up in chorus by the orchestra with a sort of dionysiac enthusiasm, the tension of which abates in the animated play of the fugal Allegro. In the Presto (3/8 time) the rapid formulas which follow each other as in a whirlwind seem to unwind themselves from some imaginary spinning wheel. The Largo in B minor is the only moment of meditation in this apotheosis of joy. Still, it is a serene meditation without a shadow of drama or restlessness. Quite soon the feast resumes with a frisky Allegro, all strewn with an abundance of trills and voluble batteries of repeated notes. The work ends on a galant note with a Minuet, un poco larghetto, a very graceful movement, extended by two variations, the first of which enlivens the basses, the second one the violins.

In entirely opposite direction to No. 5 in D major, the Concerto, Op. VI, No. 6, in G minor, forms a strongly contrasting twosome with the former. What has been exteriorization of unmixed joy, becomes here a tormented monologue, in turn melancholy or dramatic introspection. Such a masterwork by itself contradicts those detractors who would see in Handel a superficial writer lacking in true depth. The Largo affettuoso is convincing proof of this point of view; it is a magnificent meditation. The fugue that follows is a tempo giusto, as though the steady pace and the severity of contrapuntal writing had endeavored to discipline the dramatic thoughts which come to the surface in the tormented chromaticism of the subject. This aim is attained in the Musette, larghetto, one of the most beautiful and justly famous movements of Handel. It is far from the rustic character that is normally the lot of musettes. After a more feverish middle section, the movement ends as suavely as it began. The work is brought to conclusion by two Allegros, the first very concertante, the second in the style of a slow Minuet. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 7, in B-flat major, has the distinction of being written for string orchestra only, without concertino. A brief and majestic Largo is followed by a pleasing fugal Allegro whose subject is formed by notes repeated in unique manner, getting faster and faster (half-notes, quarter-notes, eighth-notes). A disjointed countersubject gives way to amusing responses which flutter from one part to the other. The Largo e piano in 3/4 time is quite a remarkable piece due to the richness of its contrapuntal and harmonic writing, the subtlety of its expressive chromaticisms and the continuity of the imitations between the upper voices and the bass. All this calls to mind the well-known Sarabande of Bach’s Suite in B minor. The Andante fits into the category of accompanied monodies. Its first theme evokes some idealized march; the second motif has a more wave-like form, but is always rigorously sustained by an immutable accompaniment of repeated eighth-notes. In the final Hornpipe Handel asserts himself - as he does in many other places - as a prodigious inventor of rhythms. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 8 is in C minor. It opens with a superb and very songful Allemande whose peaceful course is interrupted at the end of each of the two sections by brusque broken cadences, which are like so many threatening questions to which the subject responds with timidity. A Grave in F minor, by the calm garlands treated in imitation, relaxes the somber atmosphere created by repeated chords. In the Andante allegro, the tranquil pace of eighth-notes is pierced by little flashing figures which rebound from one voice to another. A short Adagio is followed by the Siciliana, andante, whose general climate will easily call to mind that of the Pastorale of Corelli’s Christmas Concerto. The short final Allegro is the only truly animated page of this dreamy and contemplative concerto, largely marked by that melancholy which is one of the basic elements of Handel’s character. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 9, in F major, is the only one for which we do not have the exact date of composition. Its opening Largo, strangely enough, gives the impression of being an accompaniment of which the melody is taken for granted. Could Handel, at the harpsichord or at the organ, perhaps have given free reign to his genius as an improviser? It is interesting to note also that the two following movements are found again, more or less modified, in an organ concerto (No.13). The first is a sprightly Allegro whose alert, playful theme gives way momentarily to a veritable “Cuckoo Toccata’ in the lineage of Pasquini. Then comes a Larghetto, treated in half-shades, elegiac but without emphasis, tender but modest. It is followed by a fugal Allegro, its rapidly meandering subject unfolding in animated counterpoints, giving an impression of ‘moto perpetuo.” The concerto ends with two dance movements: a short Minuet, agreeably colored by free modulations, and a Gigue whose captivating theme is started off by the two solo violins. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 10, in D minor, is one of the most dense, most ‘fully composed” of the whole series. A monumental French Overture serves as portal, with a proud and dramatic Grave, a supple and intriguing fugue and a majestic Lentement. The Air, lento, in its rhythm recalls the sarabande of the classical suite. With very simple means and pure lines, it attains from the outset a profundity, a poetic intensity, which make it, one of the most beautiful slow movements of Handel. Two Allegros follow. The first is a sort of “Allemande légére,” very contrapuntal and very elaborately written. You will notice a procedure which Bach most often applies to the gigue: the inversion of the opening theme at the beginning of the second half and the combination of both forms. The second allegro is treated in concertante style. It utilizes two contrasting elements. The first one is a bold theme, quite Vivaldian, presented by the two solo violins: its four expositions, on D, F, A and D, determine the main sections of the movement. The second theme is a fugue subject whose melodic character brings a wonderful calm and freshness to a piece that is otherwise rather dramatic and agitated. It is, moreover, accompanied by a countersubject made up of a spirited sixteenth-note run. The final Allegro moderato is a marvelous Gavotte. We don’t know what to admire the most, the grace and elegance of the theme or the transparency and delicacy of the variation. The Concerto, Op. VI, No. 11 is in A major. Composed last in the series, it is also the longest. Handel re-used a good part of it in an organ concerto (No. 14). Its first movement is a grand Andante larghetto e staccato which plays on the opposition of two themes: one phrase of marvelous decorative sumptuousness, atfirst, to which the dotted rhythms give that noble and yet smiling aspect of which only Handel is capable - an amusing motif, almost funny, then, which uses, like the fugue subject of Concerto No. 7, the procedure of repeated notes growing faster and faster. The fugal Allegro is likewise built on picturesque contrasts. Its subject opposes a “head’ made up of disjointed but narrowing intervals and a “coda” whose descending scales are cut off by little ‘fuses’ of the countersubject. The few measures of Largo e staccato were evidently intended to sustain an improvisation, and it is in that spirit that we have interpreted them. The two last movements are of vast proportions. The Andante is a sort of melodious minuet which ties the procedure of development of the pre-classical sonata to that of the ornamental virtuoso variation. The final Allegro is the only movement in the entire cycle where we find the structure of the Italian da capo aria. The little game of choosing “the most beautiful work’ of a given composer is surely vain and of no consequence. But it is perhaps permitted to indicate, in a collection as homogenous as Opus VI, the concerto which seems not the most beautiful, as that would be quite subjective, but perhaps the most perfect, the best balanced one. In that order of ideas we would gladly award the palm to the Concerto, Op. VI, No. 12 in B minor. It has everything: beauty of themes, wealth of developments, absence of any digressions, firmness of structure. Its five movements can be divided into two groups: Largo and Allegro joined by a half-cadence in one structure inspired by the French overture; Aria and Allegro tied together by a transitional Largo. The first Largo poses from the beginning a triple and superb affirmation, followed by a descending line full of sweetness (Beethoven’s notion of masculine and feminine themes is already in the air). In the Allegro melancholy and vivacity mingle in marvelously subtle proportion. The Aria, larghetto e piano, in E major, has the serene fervor and the nobility of the most beautiful parts of the oratorios (we are thinking particularly of the soprano aria “I know that my Redeemer liveth” which opens the third part of Messiah). The aria is extended in a Variatio, then comes a short modulating Largo leading to the original key of B minor, playing here the same role as the recitative in the choral works. The concerto concludes with a beautiful fugue, Allegro, in rebounding and persistent rhythm. JEAN-FRANÇOIS PAILLARD (Translated from the French by Herman Adler) Musical Heritage Society (MHS 806-807-808-809)

Can someone help me, i want to search for the part 3:24:20.. In the description it says :Concerto No 4b in F: Largo, i cant find it in youtube?! I want this "Song"

Why only they?

@@alfonsoramos3275 Only the aristocratic could hear a performance of a large orchestra The musicians were funded the the elite. That how the composers made money. Especially for the Church. There was a class system The royals didnt mix with the poor back then When royals passed on the street you had to bow in Some countries.

@@dojocho1894 I think of Mozart sneaking out in the evenings to play with the common folk. He loved it, a true rebel.

It is the same today!

@@Frankincensedjb123 ❣️

Desde luego; es una edición de lujo de la bella época de discos LP. Contar con los álbumes originales de Erato, es un tesoro. Extraordinarias grabaciones!

Je suis d'accord. Paillard and his ensemble played this and other music of the Baroque as well as any I've ever heard. I bought an LP of Baroque favorites by th Paillard Chamber Orchestra back in my 20s, and still cherish it. (In my 70s now.) I wonder if this recording of the Handel Concerti Grossi is stil in print. I'd love to have it.

My thoughts too…..exactly ❣️❣️❣️

Hi. A London Fair (c 1730) by John Laguerre (1688-1748)

A London Fair (c 1730) by John Laguerre (1688-1748)

It's Händel, which is sometimes rendered as Haendel when no trema is available, not Handel.

However, in England where he worked most of his adult life and achieved his greatest success, he was known as Handel - after the English manner of changing foreign names to an English counterpart (e.g., Rome not Roma, Moscow not Moskva).

@@kurtgodel5236 On every extant signature written by the composer on his scores, documents, letters, his will, and everything else Handel uses his adopted English spelling of his name - Handel (ie without the umlaut or ‘e’). In an almost identical case, in every extant spelling of his name, the Italian born Lulli uses his preferred French spelling - Lully. It’s Handel and Lully, not Haendel and Lulli.

​@@elaineblackhurst1509 The man born Georg Friederich Händel, known to his family and fellow Saxonians as Georg Friedrich Händel, changed his name to Hendel while living in Italy and finally to George Frideric Handel when settling in England. The fifty or so extant letters written in Händel's own hand exhibit different variants of his signature, depending on whether they are written in French, English or German. Your claim that all extant documents signed by Händel show the English variant of his signature is patently untrue, while your reference to Lully is utterly irrelevant.

Le sugiero que use AdBlock

I suggest you to use AdBlock

Glenn Ledbetter, fuck you say? This is a upload about Handel, come back in bed, under cover and sleep, idiot cow boy.

I suggest you to use AdBlock

@@calefonxcalectric doesn't work here & it can cause device damage.

@@seltaeb3302 Get RU-vid Premium. If you are on RU-vid a lot, it is absolutely worth it. I haven't seen an ad in years.

@@jasonhurd4379 Seriously, does RU-vid pay you to promote Premium everywhere you go? I've seen you advocate for its use too many times to count.

Not the uploader's fault.

Argumentos... Los estoy esperando. ¿Qué recomiendas?

Nothing here sounds like screeching cats; that's such an odd and inaccurate thing to say.