Rhythms of Place

Mozart had promised to deliver three piano quartets to the Viennese publisher Hoffmeister.  Yet, as G.N. Nissen–Constanze Mozart’s second husband–reported in his biography of the composer, the first quartet, in G minor, did not sell well because it was found to be too difficult.  So Hoffmeister canceled his contract with Mozart, who then gave his second effort, the present work, to the competition, Artaria.  Unfortunately, he never got around to composing the third piece in the projected set.

The combination of piano and string trio, cultivated later by such Romantic masters as Schumann, Brahms, Dvořák and Fauré, was probably Mozart’s invention.  He added a viola to the more usual piano-trio format, just as he added a second viola to the string quartet to create string quintets–thereby enriching the sound and indulging his love for a beautiful but neglected string instrument that he himself loved to play.

Unlike the G minor quartet which–at least in its first movement–strikes a dark and dramatic tone, the present work has a cheerful disposition from beginning to end.  The piano–Mozart’s primary instrument–is clearly the leader throughout, but the three strings, as a group, make a highly effective counterweight.

The second theme of the first movement breaks up this balance when it opposes the individual voices of the violin and the viola to that of the piano.  The cello holds on to its accompanying role, except in the development section, where it becomes more “emancipated” and shares in the contrapuntal elaboration of the second theme.  Then, for most of the recapitulation, it resumes its principal function as a provider of harmonic support.

While the second-movement Larghetto is an intimate conversation between the piano and the string trio (treated here as a close-knit group throughout), the Rondo finale comes close to being a keyboard concerto:  the rapid passagework of the piano dominates the texture almost entirely.  It is a playful and lighthearted movement; even the central minor-mode episode emphasizes virtuosity over drama.

© 2026 Peter Laki

Dvořák’s beloved “American” Quartet was arranged for wind quintet by David Walter, a French oboist and composer who has more than 1,000 arrangements in different musical genres in his catalog.  It will be a pleasant surprise to hear how good this familiar masterwork sounds in a different medium!

The story of the “American” Quartet is well known:  the Czech master spent three years in the United States as director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York, where he became acquainted with many Negro spirituals through his student, Harry T. Burleigh.  In the summer of 1893, he visited the Czech community in Spillville, Iowa, where he also had an opportunity to encounter some Native American songs and dances.  He strongly believed that his American students should use their own native traditions to create their own musical styles, and set an example for them with such works as the “New World” Symphony and the “American” Quartet.

In the latter work, one is struck by the prevalent use of the pentatonic scale (made up of the black keys on the piano).  While this scale was undoubtedly present in the traditional American music Dvořák heard in the U.S., it is also known in other parts of the world and, indeed, can be found in Dvořák’s earlier music as well.  (A younger contemporary who Dvořák may never have heard of, a Frenchman named Claude Debussy, wrote his own string quartet, which also uses pentatonicism prominently, in the very same year, 1893).

One thing that makes the “American” Quartet a masterpiece is the way Dvořák subjected the simplest melodies to some fairly sophisticated thematic development, integrating the folk-inspired materials seamlessly into an European chamber-music idiom.  The accompaniments he added to the melodies show great care and extreme variety from figurative to contrapuntal; similarly, the tonal progressions, while coming across as perfectly natural, always avoid the commonplace.  Thanks to David Walter, wind players can now share in the pleasure of performing this immortal work.

© 2026 Peter Laki

Commissioned and premiered in 2012, Startin’ Sumthin’ for the Monmouth Winds was part of a fundraising initiative by the Imani Winds quintet. Written by Jeff Scott, this five-minute composition was originally scored for a wind quintet and pays homage to jazz music in the 1930s and third-stream music which was heard in the streets of New Orleans. As the 20th century progressed, more and more composers incorporated jazz into their classical music compositions. But the two styles, jazz and classical music, remained largely separated until the middle of the century when this style of music progressed to a point where it became a distinctive style of music. In 1957, Gunther Schuller coined the term “third stream” to identify the fusion of jazz and classical music. Other notable composers such as Gershwin, Stravinsky, and Copland have also integrated jazz into their compositions, which has become a growing trend over the last fifty years.

Startin’ Sumthin’ is a swing-era-influenced work that could have been heard in juke joints all around the country that people would get up and dance to. When approached to compose a piece for a wind quartet, Scott wanted to break out of the standard “basic canon or Hindemith style” way of composing for a wind quintet. Scott took this opportunity to introduce wind quartets to this time period of jazz because to him, this style of jazz is easier to absorb for the musicians and audiences alike. The style of Startin’ Sumthin’ would be most consistent with the music by Billy May and Count Basie in the big band era.

Startin’ Sumthin’  is a modern take on 1930s swing jazz and meant to be a fun retro-ride. To arrive, take the Louis Jordan highway, merge onto the Lionel Hampton causeway, turn right on the Jump Jazz expressway and exit when the harmonies start to get a little coarse and dense.