Symphonie espagnole for violin and orchestra, Op.21

Although he dedicated the Symphonie espagnole to Pablo de Sarasate - who gave the first performance in Paris in 1875 - and wrote it specifically to exploit both his brilliant technique and his natural ease in the idiom, Lalo did not want it to be regarded as just another virtuoso fantasy on national airs. He called it a symphony, he said, “because it reflected my thinking - that is to say, a solo violin soaring over the rigid form of an old symphony.” The cyclic element in the construction shows how serious he was. Near the beginning of the work, just after the orchestra has uttered a peremptory anticipation of the main theme of the first movement and the violin has echoed it, the soloist turns to a fragment of sensuous habanera melody that is destined to emerge in its definitive form in the finale. On its first re-entry the violin introduces another version of the habanera as a seductive pendant to the blunt main theme in D minor. In the short term, however, the more important item of contrasting material is the second subject, a lyrical malagueña initiated in brief by lower strings and wind and then taken up by the soloist in an expressive B flat major.

There is hint of malagueña also in the remarkably flexible, even improvisatory middle section of the Scherzando, the outer sections of which are based on seguidilla rhythms in the orchestra and a teasingly syncopated melodic line on the violin. The Intermezzo is a dramatically articulated rhapsody on the distinctive rhythm of the habanera. Beginning with a solemn brass chorale in D minor and incorporating an elaborate gypsy-style lament for the violin, the Andante is designed to offset the carefree last movement and, ending in D major, to prepare for it. Lalo was proud of the “scintillating colours” of his Symphonie espagnole and there is no more entertaining example than this closing Rondo with its delightfully capricious main theme, its contrastingly languorous habanera episode and the surpassing virtuoso brilliance of the coda.

Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole and Bizet’s Carmen were both completed in 1874 and introduced to the world within weeks of each other in Paris in 1875. While it would be an oversimplification of history to identify that coincidence as the beginning of the French love affair with the music of Spain, the success of the two works - the Symphonie espagnole immediately on its first performance, Carmen some time later - certainly accelerated the process. Within a few years the French public was to be carried away by a far more idiomatic treatment of Spanish dance rhythms in Chabrier’s España but, at the time, both scores must have seemed uncommonly exotic. The Symphonie espagnole came, moreover, with guarantees of authenticity from a composer of Spanish descent and a Spanish soloist who had supplied some of the tunes.

Although he dedicated the Symphonie espagnole to Pablo de Sarasate and wrote it specifically to exploit both his brilliant technique and his natural ease in the idiom, Lalo did not want it to be regarded as just another virtuoso fantasy on national airs. He called it a symphony, he said, “because it reflected my thinking - that is to say, a solo violin soaring over the rigid form of an old symphony.” Leaving aside what he might have meant by “old symphony” and why he extended the form to include five movements - an anomaly that led to a long tradition of leaving out the central Intermezzo - one can only agree that Lalo’s structural conscience served him well in avoiding banality in at least that respect.

The cyclic element in the construction shows how serious he was. Near the beginning of the work, just after the orchestra has uttered a peremptory anticipation of the main theme of the first movement and the violin has echoed it, the soloist turns to a fragment of sensuous habanera melody that is destined to emerge in its definitive form in the finale. On its first re-entry the violin introduces another version of the habanera as a seductive pendant to the blunt main theme in D minor. In the short term, however, the more important item of contrasting material is the second subject, a lyrical malagueña initiated in brief by lower strings and wind and then taken up by the soloist in an expressive B flat major.

There is hint of malagueña also in the remarkably flexible, even improvisatory middle section of the Scherzando, the outer sections of which are based on seguidilla rhythms in the orchestra and a teasingly syncopated melodic line on the violin. As though to ensure that the habanera would epitomise Spanish music in French ears for decades to come, the Intermezzo is a dramatically articulated rhapsody on its distinctive rhythm, with the orchestra in characteristically gruff voice and the violin so alluring as to anticipate the Tango in Stravinsky’s Soldier’s Tale at one point.

Beginning with a solemn brass chorale in D minor and incorporating an elaborate gypsy-style lament for the violin, the Andante is designed to offset the carefree last movement and, ending in D major, to prepare for it. Lalo was proud of the “scintillating colours” of his Symphonie espagnole and there is no more entertaining example than this closing Rondo with its delightfully capricious main theme, its contrastingly languorous habanera episode recalling the material anticipated in the first movement, and the surpassing virtuoso brilliance of the coda.

Gerald Larner