Strange, theatrical surprises abound in Franz Joseph Haydn’s Symphony No. 65 in A Major.
Numbered out of sequence, the Symphony may have originated as incidental music for a play presented at the private theater of Haydn’s patron, Prince Esterházy. Scholars such as Elaine Sisman have speculated that the play may have been Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The year of composition, perhaps 1768, is uncertain. Regardless, the music captures the free-spirited experimentation of a composer working in the splendid isolation of a remote aristocratic enclave.
Opening with three striking chords, the first movement (Vivace e con spirito) is a celebratory romp. The development section features a “false” recapitulation, interrupted by a harmonic rollercoaster ride. When the recapitulation arrives, it is truncated, suggesting the form of an Italian overture more than strict sonata form.
Moving to D major and 3/8 time, the second movement (Andante) is dramatic and disjunct. A singing but irregular melody in the violins is answered by an oboe and horn fanfare. The violins return with a single, pulsating A which hangs in midair. The low strings deliver a sombre melodic line. These disparate fragments coalesce to form a music drama filled with unexpected twists and turns.
The Minuet starts off with the expected 3/4 meter, but abruptly shifts to a feeling of 4/4 before drifting back. It is as if Haydn, with great delight, set out to throw off any potential dancers. The trio section shifts to a mysterious A minor with exotic grace notes and more rhythmic games in the form of hemiola.
Punctuated by boisterous hunting horn calls, the Finale (Presto) is a joyful jig in 12/8 time. A spirited rondo filled with the adventure of the outdoors, the movement brings the Symphony to a galloping conclusion.
Recorded as part of the Haydn2032 project, this dynamic performance features the Basel Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Giovanni Antonini:
Recordings
- Haydn: Symphony N0. 65 in A-Major, Hob. I:65, Giovanni Antonini, Kammerorchester Basel Amazon
Featured Image: “Ophelia” (1883), Alexandre Cabanel