Don’t Ever Let Them Get You!
Book Sample

 It’s Not My First Work!
    or never trust Program Notes


This is a story about official Opus Ones and what came before, about the mysteries of composers’ early attempts at writing music, focusing on Gioachino Rossini, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, Ludwig van Beethoven and my own Trio Opus 1, of which in truth I can say ‘It’s not my First Work!’

Rossini was fourteen when he was admitted to the Bologna Conservatory in 1806. He was forced to submit to exercises in strict composition—I always wish that I had had more strict training in my youth—and he studied the chamber works of Haydn and Mozart with avidity, even orchestrating some of them. So keen was he on the music of these composers that his fellow students nicknamed him ‘Il Tedeschino’—the Little German. Two years later, in 1808, Rossini composed the opera Demetrio e Polibio, ‘my first work,’ he said later.

Not true! Before there was a Mass in 1804, and even three years earlier, in 1804, aged twelve, he had written 6 sonatas for four players (two violins, cello and double bass). You should never believe composers nor trust program notes, particularly for wood-wind trios and quartets, for Rossini’s well known wind quartets are hardly more than an arrangement of these string sonatas, and I quote the program notes: demonstrating Rossini’s mastery of instrument writing whereby each player is provided with music which is thoroughly idiomatic to this particular instrument.

Johann Sebastian’s most famous and prolific son was Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. In 1731 he engraved, with his own hands, though under his father’s supervision, a little one page Minuet in C, ‘with hands crossing.’ ‘My first work,’ he said later, a truly official Opus 1.

Stories of Beethoven’s childhood in Bonn abound. ‘At the age of eleven, this youthful genius will surely become a second Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,’ wrote his teacher Christian Gottlob Neefe in the Magazin der Musik.

‘Beethoven soon began to compose,’ says Alexander Thayer. ‘He worked extremely hard at his composition, sketching and polishing his works over and over again until he considered them finished, including a set of Variations on a March by Ernst Christoph Dressler for the piano, composed in 1782 when he was twelve years old.’ ‘My first work,’ he said later. But the official Opus 1 came only in 1794, by which time Beethoven was twenty-four; he had taken his time. In Vienna he had the musical wherewithal to make that city sit up and listen, the Three Piano Trios Opus 1 were intended to be an event, they were in the genre directed at the aristocratic devotees of chamber music who were at the very centre of the Vienna scene. Like all of his early music right up to the Septet Opus 16 the music is scaled very broadly, both weighty and discursive, even overblown, with ponderous slow movements and including his famous innovation, the Scherzo.

Now a little interlude or digression on Russian composers, whose official Opus Ones were even further removed from their first attempts at composition.

Sergei Rachmaninov’s official Opus 1 is the fabulous and famous Piano Concerto in F# of 1890—he was seventeen at the time. A remarkably mature work, even for an official Opus 1, an unbelievable start, but hardly ‘my first work.’

In 1946 I played the second bassoon part as a student in the Melbourne Conservatorium orchestra, but understandably, as a struggling bassoonist, Rachmaninov’s spectacular piano music had no influence on me whatsoever. The Concerto was preceded by an opera, Esmeralda, only fragments of which exist, an even earlier Piano Concerto, only sketches of which exist, and the Symphonic Poem Manfred, of which nothing exists, it is now lost forever.

Sergei Prokofiev, as a child musically precocious, left a huge amount of juvenilia. He wrote his first piece at the age of five, and by 1902, aged eleven, he was already the composer of two operas. In this case the official Opus 1, his Piano Sonata Number 1, was a remodelling of an earlier sonata, so he could hardly say ‘my first work’ later.

But, unlike his predecessor Rachmaninov, Prokofiev may just have had some influence on me. Just listen to this: Pace Dr Jimmy Steele, I was expelled from the Melbourne University Conservatorium, no, not for ‘improving’ on the great masters, just for sheer incompetence. I couldn’t play the bassoon, I couldn’t do the harmony and counterpoint. What a happy, positive note on which to start examining my very own official Opus 1, the Trio for flute, clarinet and bassoon of 1956. I was twenty-eight at the time, ‘you left your run a bit late George, little Gioachino was twelve when he wrote his six string sonatas, little Emanuel was twelve when he engraved his Minuet in C and little Ludwig was twelve when he finished his Variations on the March by Ernst Christoph Dressler; but you George, you were twenty-eight by the time you wrote your Trio, what held you up?’

‘But it’s not my first work!’ I said, later....

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