Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, BWV 1048
Johan Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)
Run Time: Approx. 11 minutes
In 1721, the six pieces we now know as the Brandenburg Concertos were sent by Bach to Christian Ludwig, Margrave of Brandenburg-Schwedt, as a sort of job application. They were probably not conceived as a formal set; more likely, they were simply a collection of pieces for various ensembles that Bach felt best represented his abilities. That is essentially all we know about these iconic works. The Margrave appears never to have responded, and the works were lost for nearly 150 years. The only other piece of information we have is a letter that Bach enclosed with the manuscripts, a portion of which reads as follows:
“I have then in accordance with Your Highness’ most gracious orders taken the liberty of rendering my most humble duty to Your Royal Highness with the present concertos, which I have adapted to several instruments; begging Your Highness most humbly not to judge their imperfection with the rigor of the fine and delicate taste that the whole world knows Your Highness has for musical pieces; but rather to infer from them in benign consideration the profound respect and the most humble obedience that I try to show Your Highness therewith.”
My, how times have changed—but perhaps we might all try throwing a little “benign consideration” into our next cover letters and see where that gets us. I digress. It’s no wonder we now tend to think of the Baroque era as an extravagant parade of powdered wigs and formal bows, where feelings were cinched up as tightly as the corsets. But do not let Bach’s gilded prose fool you into thinking that Baroque music is a prim affair. No, in stark contrast to the nearly comical propriety offered by its composer, this music practically sizzles off the page.
Likely the most recognizable of the set, Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 opens with a stately theme that has become emblematic of our modern perception of Baroque court life. Its frequent use in film and television has rendered it a caricature of the era, but Bach’s familiar opening quickly sheds its pretenses, becoming a fiery, virtuosic tour de force—an energy it maintains for nearly the entire work. The relentless motion pauses only for an unusually brief adagio before dashing off to the races once again.
The concerto is full of Bach’s characteristically complex craftsmanship, with solo lines that dart around the ensemble, overlapping and interlocking like pieces of a tightly cut jigsaw puzzle. Three hundred years later, Bach’s apologies for his work’s “imperfections” seem almost absurd, given that we now consider his music to be the pinnacle of compositional perfection.
Concerto in E-flat “Dumbarton Oaks”
Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971)
Run Time: Approx. 16 minutes
Hearing the name Igor Stravinsky likely brings to mind a few of the composer’s most iconic works. Perhaps The Rite of Spring, the jagged, even caustic work popularized in Disney’s original Fantasia (the one with the dinosaurs). Or perhaps his most famous ballet, The Firebird, with its transcendental finale you may remember from Fantasia 2000 (the one with the forest sprite and the volcano). But throughout his career, Stravinsky was a bit of a musical chameleon, and his body of work shifted through several distinct styles. Dumbarton Oaks hails from his Neoclassical era, when he turned his attention to musical practices of the past.
In music, the term Neoclassicism has become a bit of a catch-all for works that look back on previous eras. While Stravinsky certainly drew from the actual Classical era for many of his compositional endeavors, a more apt term for what he created in Dumbarton Oaks might be “Neobaroque”. For this work, Stravinsky looked to none other than the master himself, Johann Sebastian Bach—and in particular, the Brandenburg Concertos—for inspiration.
Dumbarton Oaks was commissioned in 1937 by Washington, DC power couple and influential arts patrons, Robert Woods Bliss and Mildred Barnes Bliss, on the occasion of their 30th wedding anniversary. The piece takes its title from the couple’s beloved Georgetown estate, which hosted the premiere performance of the work. Now owned by Harvard University, the estate was also the site of the historic meeting that led to the founding of the United Nations.
What’s borrowed from the past?
The Form: This work is written as a typical Baroque concerto grosso. Unlike the modern concerto, which features a single soloist backed by the orchestra, the concerto grosso highlights a group of soloists that weave in and out of the ensemble texture. The hallmark of this form is the dialogue between instruments acting in a solo capacity and the full ensemble. You’ll hear each unique voice come out of the texture at various points, and then fold back into a supporting role.
Style: Stravinsky borrows many tricks from the Baroque playbook, including fugues, walking bass lines, rhythmic imitation, and ornamentation.
Rhythm: Through much of the piece, the melodies are often underpinned by a chugging rhythmic impetus, like a motor that keeps things moving along. This is a frequently used device in Baroque music as well, where rhythmic ostinatos— short, continuously repeated rhythmic patterns—create cohesion and flow. However, the constantly shifting meters are all Stravinsky and play a big role in giving the piece its modern sound.
Dialogue: The instruments frequently pass melodic material between one another, each playing a small part of the larger phrase. The melodies coalesce from short motives circulated among the instruments, creating intricate interlocking textures and evoking the feeling of an ensemble cast of equally weighted characters.
The opening: Stravinsky’s opening is a clear homage to Brandenburg Concerto No. 3. That iconic descending line you might recognize from movies and television is essentially the same here, though dressed in Stravinsky’s modern clothes. He builds the entire first movement theme around this motif, seamlessly melding Baroque tradition and modernist innovation.
—Notes by Valerie Sly, 2025