Bernd Alois Zimmermann
Concerto for Oboe and Small Orchestra

Before every concert, it has its moment in the spotlight – the oboe gives the tuning note for the orchestra. As the protagonist of a solo concerto, however, it is heard less frequently. Its range may not quite match that of the clarinet, its volume may not rival the trumpet, and its notes may not respond as swiftly as those of the flute – but the oboe’s tone is unmistakable and extraordinarily versatile. It can sing with rapture, it can lament with poignant sorrow, and with its “pastoral” character it symbolises the bond between humanity and nature. Not easy to master, it is a somewhat unruly and capricious instrument. Perhaps that was part of the appeal for Bernd Alois Zimmermann when he agreed to compose a concerto for oboe in 1952. The commissioners – Heinrich Strobel, an editor at the Südwestfunk radio and the organiser of the Donaueschingen Festival for New Music, and conductor Hans Rosbaud – were initially unsure whether Zimmermann could be persuaded to take on the project. Their aim was a work written for Horst Schneider, principal oboist of the Südwestfunk Orchestra: “because we would very much like a truly virtuosic concerto that gives the player the opportunity to show off all his artistry.” And indeed, Zimmermann lets the oboe unleash a firework display of playing techniques and expressive possibilities. He based the piece, in his own words, on “the type of three-movement solo concerto” that is “predominantly cheerful in character”.

The opening movement, according to the tempo marking, is a homage to Igor Stravinsky – a clear reference throughout the work. Zimmermann saw Stravinsky’s significance for contemporary music in “the art of omission”, and he orchestrated his concerto with a corresponding lightness of touch. The oboe constantly changes character, moving from long sustained notes to rapid flurries. Loud and soft, legato and staccato, trills and leaps, attacks and lyrical lines – all follow one another in quick succession; sometimes cheekily bold, sometimes introverted and reflective in expression. The orchestra often keeps its distance, punctuating the solo line with dry, tossed-off chords, later providing shimmering sound surfaces and adding brief upswings. The oboe remains the unchallenged focal point throughout. Zimmermann’s ironically inflected pathos allows space in the second movement, Rhapsody, for more melancholic thoughts. The final movement features a breakneck cadenza and a main theme of almost catchy memorability – though the audience at the world premiere never heard it: Zimmermann added the cadenza only the following year.