The term "night music" - in German, "nachtmusik" - in French, "nocturne" - once referred to a light piece meant to be performed in the evening at a social gathering. It was refined party music. Mozart's "Eine kleine nachtmusik" is the best example of this.
Somewhere along the 1800s, as classical music got bigger and more dramatic, "night music" came to mean, for some composers, music that conveyed a sense of darkness, music of shadows.
Much of what Arnold Schoenberg wrote sounded like night music in this spookier sense, from his famous "Transfigured Night," which I will excerpt on my radio show Saturday, to his Second Chamber Symphony, a late work that returns to tonality; I'll excerpt four recordings of it.
Sergei Rachmaninoff wrote dark music. Some commentators get so hung up on his obsessive quotation of "Dies irae," the Song of the Dead, that they don't notice how dark his music is even with those bits ignored. In the first half hour of the show I'll play the scherzo from his First Symphony, which shows how the shadows creep even into a straightforward fast movement.
Gustav Mahler could write blazing sunshine music but he was better at the neurotic stuff. His Sixth Symphony, "Tragic," is my favorite, and I consider it the most successful of the really big symphonies, those over, say, 45 minutes, by any composer. I'd rather hear it, for example, than Beethoven's Ninth. But shortly behind it is the Seventh Symphony, a five-movement work marred only by the false triumph of the finale. Or maybe I've simply never heard it conducted properly. Anyway, two of the three inner movements, the second and fourth, are called "nachtmusik," but the real night music, for me, is the movement in the middle, which I will play on the show.
The dark, nocturnal sound can be richly experienced in the finale of Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 1, and in the first movement of William Walton's Cello Concerto, both of which I will play in the second hour.
Finally, you'll hear excerpts of three versions of Cole Porter's "In the Still of the Night." First, from the movie of his life, Kevin Kline sings it, totally getting the mood. Then Helen O'Connell sings utterly against the mood in a hopped-up double-tempo recording. Then you'll hear the Neville Brothers, also partially against the mood but in a way that works better.
What's interesting about this song is the way it peaks early. The highest and loudest note of the song, when it's done right, is the beginning of the question, "Do you love me, as I love you?" Or is this a passing thing? The lover/singer expresses worry about the love affair, fearful it will be transient, as the music slowly retreats back into the nocturnal still from which it came.
"Howard's Day Off," a program of "classical music and related materials, packed in authentic juices," airs live on Hawaii Public Radio stations KHPR Honolulu, KKUA Wailuku (Maui) and KANO Hilo (Big Island) and streams live on www.hawaiipublicradio.org Saturday mornings between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. HST. Facebook members can join the Howard's Day Off Appreciation Society founded by Max Cacas of Washington, D.C.
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