However highbrow we think we are, we’ve all been guilty of it – that is, sitting in a concert or opera and waiting impatiently for ‘the famous bit’. In some instances, that well-known moment may be just one of several in a work that is fairly familiar to us overall; in others, it can be the sole reference point in what is otherwise entirely unexplored territory.
Some of those famous bits have become so big that they have taken on a life of their own, often played as standalone pieces and inevitably known by a name that makes no reference to the larger work they came from. Having such a star moment within it doesn’t necessarily condemn a work to obscurity; however, there are also plenty of examples where, while one part of a work enjoys the limelight, the rest sits unheard and unloved in a dark, forgotten corner. Let’s take a look at a few examples…
Rimsky-Korsakov The Flight of the Bumblebee
Whether at the hands of pianists, violinists or whoever, there has been a fad in recent years for playing Rimsky-Korsakov's chromatic finger-twisting 'Flight of the Bumblebee' as fast as possible, hence earning oneself a place in the Guinness World Records. Even taken at a sensible pace, this depiction of a prince turning into a bee so that he can fly over the sea to his father, takes about 80 seconds. That’s around 105th of the length of the opera in which it features: 1900’s The Tale of Tsar Saltan, which, sadly, rarely creates any other sort of buzz on the opera stage today.
JS Bach’s Air on a G string
Bach originally set down the famous ‘Air’ as the second movement of his Orchestral Suite No. 3 for strings and continuo. It never acquired the famous nickname during his lifetime – rather, that was bestowed in 1871 by violinist August Wilhelmj, who arranged it for violin solo and transposed it down so the melody could be played entirely on the violin’s lowest (G) string. This Romantic-era adaptation dialled up the piece’s lyricism and warmth, at a stroke lending it the emotional resonance that would be lapped up by popular culture from weddings and lullabies to films and cigar adverts.
Chopin’s Funeral March
Ask anyone to hum a funeral march and chances are that they will respond with Chopin’s doom-laden tune, the default music for conjuring up images of the walk to the grave. Few, however, will go beyond the iconic eleven-note ‘dum-dum-di-dum, dum-di-dum-di-dum-di-dum’ and into the rest the Marche funèbre – Lento third movement of the Pole’s Piano Sonata No. 2 of 1839, much of which is, in fact, quite serene. The other three movements, meanwhile, are a whirlwind of thrilling, if less familiar, virtuosity.
Elgar’s Nimrod
A regular at funerals, both royal and otherwise, ‘Nimrod’ is also guaranteed to bring a lump to the throat when played at Remembrance Day ceremonies. Elgar himself may have regarded the 13 friends depicted in his Enigma Variations with equal fondness, but it’s Variation IX that outshines its peers in the popularity stakes today. Its association with death, incidentally, is entirely down to the solemn beauty of the music, as August Jaeger, Elgar’s publisher and friend whom ‘Nimrod’ fondly portrays, was very much alive at the time of its composition.
Widor’s Toccata
But enough of death. Widor’s Toccata has a far cheerier association, as a piece thundered out by the organ as so many brides and grooms head together down the aisle and out into a world of wedded bliss. Or so we hope. How many of those newlyweds, however, know that the Toccata is just the blazing finale of the French composer’s five-movement Symphony for Organ No. 5? Organ enthusiasts inevitably do, to be fair, as the Fifth Symphony is a masterpiece for the instrument, but even they rarely get the chance to hear it played in full.
Verdi’s Drinking Song
‘Libiamo ne’ lieti calici’ from Verdi's La traviata is one of those moments that resonate far beyond the opera house. Bright, infectious and gloriously tipsy, the ‘Drinking Song’ is sung early on, as Alfredo and Violetta toast love, pleasure and the fleeting joys of life. The duet’s waltz-like rhythm, playful call-and-response and sparkling melody make it instantly memorable – even for anyone who’s never been near an opera. Ironically, the scene’s carefree exuberance only heightens the heartbreak to come – but that hasn’t stoppedthe Drinking Song becoming Verdi’s most jubilantly universal hit.
Delibes’s Flower Duet
Thanks in part to British Airways adopting it as its theme tune, this serene melody brings to mind images of being whisked away to somewhere far-flung and glamorous. BA has chosen quite well here, as Lakmé, the 1882 opera that this duet for soprano and mezzo sets in motion, is set in exotic 19th-century India. Those who find themselves wanting to explore further into Delibes’s magical world will discover similar delights throughout the ensuing three acts, though – spoiler alert – the ending may leave a bitter taste…
Puccini’s ‘Nessun Dorma’
Think Pavarotti. Think Italia 90. Heralded by Puccini’s aria, BBC TV’s coverage of England’s dramatic World Cup campaign gave classical music CD sales a huge boost. Hurray! And with its ‘Vincero’ (I will win!) climax, ‘Nessun Dorma’ does seem to conjure up a message of heroism and triumph. However, in its context in Turandot, there’s a sinister subtext – when he sings it, Prince Calaf knows his own victory in keeping his name secret will result in Princess Turandot slaughtering her own people. Not so hurray.
Debussy’s Clair de lune
Soft, shimmering, beautiful – this is as perfect a musical portrait of moonlight as you could wish for, its rippling arpeggios capturing the stillness of night with exquisite delicacy. No wonder, then, that Debussy's 'Clair de lune' has soundtracked countless reveries and pensive moments in films and TV, including a sultry ad for a top-of-the-range perfume in 2004. In comparison, the whiff of popularity has eluded the other three movements of the Suite bergamasque, though all have their own quiet magic.
Orff’s ‘O Fortuna’
And talking of scents… This stirring opening (and closing) chorus of Carl Orff's 1936 cantata Carmina Burana still has many of us thinking of 1970s aftershave commercials rather than the 60 minutes of bawdy choral romp it introduces. In fact, with the possible exception of his charming ‘Gassenhauer’ for percussion, nothing else by the German composer has come even close to matching its fame.
Beethoven’s Ode to Joy
Composer of probably the most familiar four notes in classical music – the opening of his Fifth Symphony – Beethoven had another humdinger up his sleeve several years later. Like the Fifth, the Ninth Symphony gets plenty of outings in the concert hall, but it is the Ode to Joy that absolutely everyone knows. Setting Schiller’s poem, this rousing climax hits home with an instantly hummable melody and a universal message of brotherhood, its triumphant strains having become shorthand for unity, joy and celebration.
Khachaturian’s Sabre Dance
In 1942, as rehearsals for his recently completed Gayane began, Khachaturian sat back and looked forward to seeing his lushly orchestrated, folk-infused ballet about love and morality on a Soviet farm take shape on stage… only for the director to insist that another dance was needed. The composer dutifully and rapidly whipped up the energetic, sword-flashing ‘Sabre Dance’, but reckoned that Gayane would be fine without it. How ironic then, that today it’s the Sabre Dance that thrives without the ballet.
Barber’s Adagio
Barber’s Adagio for Strings began life as the slow movement of his 1936 String Quartet, Op. 11, but soon eclipsed its parent work entirely. Transcribed for string orchestra, it found a unique emotional resonance – used in films (not least 1986’s Platoon), memorials and moments of national mourning. Its aching simplicity and suspended harmonies speak directly to grief and transcendence. The rest of the quartet, though beautifully crafted, remains largely a footnote to this powerful elegy.
Parry’s ‘Long since in Egypt’s plenteous land’
You’re probably asking, ‘What is this piece of music I have never heard of doing in a list of 15 famous moments?’ But bear with us. Sung by Queen Meshullemeth as she tells her children how their forebears came to settle in Israel, this apparently little-known aria from Parry’s equally unfamiliar 1888 oratorio Judith was later repurposed by Repton schoolteacher George Gilbert Stocks. Taking Parry’s tune and combining it with poetry by John Greenleaf Whittier, Stocks brought to the world a hymn now loved by millions: Dear Lord and Father of Mankind.
Felix Mendelssohn’s ‘Vaterland, in deinen Gauen’
Composed to mark 400 years since the invention of the printing press, the Mendelssohn cantata Festgesang zur Eröffnung der am ersten Tage der vierten Säkularfeier der Erfindung der Buchdruckerkunst auf dem Marktplatz zu Leipzig stattfindenden Feierlichkeiten is out of print these days. Still in circulation, though, is its ‘Vaterland, in deinen Gauen’ chorus, albeit usually sung lustily with words by Charles Wesley. Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without Hark! The Herald Angels Sing, would it?
