Three key composers of sinfonie concertanti: from left to right, Ignaz Pleyel, Mozart and Frank Martin

The majority of the classical genres with which we are now familiar were established during the Baroque era, going on to take a recognised form in the Classical period. This certainly holds true of the concerto, which evolved into a work for one solo instrument (sometimes more) and orchestra, generally consisting of three movements (fast-slow-fast). The symphony came about slightly later, a fusion of the dance suite popular in Germany and the more Italianate sinfonia (very similar to the concerto, only minus the soloist): take the former’s imposing first movement to kick off a sinfonia and you have something approaching the early symphony.

So where does the sinfonia concertante fit in?

For that, we need to look to the concerto grosso, a genre which fell out of favour as the Baroque style gave way to the Classical. This split the orchestra into two sections, setting a small group of soloists (the concertino) against the main body of instruments (the ripieno). As the orchestra generally consisted only of strings at the time, a concertino group of two violins and a single cello quickly became a standard line-up. Corelli’s contributions to the genre were so significant that their influence would be felt not only in his native Italy (where the works of Vivaldi and Marcello, among others, would owe a great deal to his example) but much further afield. It can be seen in some of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos and even more so in the set of Twelve Grand Concertos published as Handel’s Op 12, with many English composers following in his wake.

One key feature of the concerto grosso is that the concertino musicians effectively step out from the main body of the orchestra for their solo passages, otherwise playing together with the ripieno section to amplify the overall sound. This can be less noticeable with string instruments (which already made up the ripieno), but any others give the impression of a larger orchestra, one with the potential for unusual colours. The flute, oboe, violin and trumpet which make up the concertino in Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 2, for instance, create a broad instrumental palate in their own right, but even more so when they join the ripieno.

Bach’s choice of instruments is a little unusual, but pales next to the outlandish line-up of trumpet, mandolin, double bass and piano in a sinfonia concertante by the Czech composer Leopold Koželuch. However interesting this unusual combination of timbres may sound, it’s fair to say the difficulty of getting the necessary instrumentalists together has probably hampered this work’s chances of becoming well-known. Koželuch’s work is unconventional in one further respect, in giving each instrument a chance to shine in extensive solo passages rather than playing mostly as an ensemble. To some extent, this may have been dictated by the difference in their sounds: the mandolin (almost?) works paired with the double bass, but it would be ill-matched with the more strident trumpet.

Most sinfonie concertanti, it has to be said, are written for more harmonious – it’s tempting to say obvious – combinations. There’s one for oboe, violin, cello and piano by JC Bach, instruments which makes sense both as a set of four and in any number of pairings, as well as being a bit more eclectic than Haydn’s oboe, violin, bassoon and cello in his 1792 Sinfonia Concertante. The soprano aria ‘Martern aller Arten’, in Mozart’s opera Die Entführung aus dem Serail, ties in closely with this interest in contrasting instrumental colours, being scored for a solo quintet (flute, oboe, violin and cello in addition to the singer) over and above the orchestra.

Wind players were the prime beneficiaries of the genre, many of them helped by the design of their instruments being refined in the early Classical period. The German city of Mannheim became home to some of the very best, playing in an orchestra admired by composers across the whole of Europe. This led to the founding of equally admired orchestras in Paris, and it was there that the sinfonia concertante really took off, albeit mostly at the hands of composers from elsewhere: Joseph Boulogne (a composer we will cover in more detail in October, for Black History Month) and Ignaz Pleyel wrote half-a-dozen each and Carl Stamitz 38, though all three are dwarfed by one Giuseppe Maria Cambini, who composed in excess of 80. Such was Cambini’s popularity, in fact, that he was suspected of being behind the abruptly cancelled premiere of Mozart’s 1778 Sinfonia Concertante for wind instruments (a later arrangement of which the SCO performs in our Mozart & Beethoven concerts, 11-13 September), fearing the younger composer could usurp him.

Mozart would, of course, go on to write the piece which exemplifies the genre, his Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola (also performed by the SCO this Season, 30 April - 2 May). The music combines the breadth of the symphony with all the virtuosic lines one would expect from the soloists, and some unusual writing for the violas. Those in the orchestra are divided into two parts throughout, adding to the richness of the scoring, while the soloist is instructed to tune their instrument a semitone sharper than normal, giving it a brighter sound so it may stand out from the rest of the orchestra.

For all that, the two solo parts are closely integrated with what would once have been called the ripieno, frequently emerging from the wider texture. It is this close relationship which defines the sinfonia concertante as a genre, and part of the reason for some later works being identified as such despite their titles. Consider how Brahms writes for the solo violin and cello in his Double Concerto, or Saint-Saëns’ use of the organ in his symphony of the same name: there are times the instruments stand out as soloists, others when their role is part of a greater whole. Even Berlioz’ Harold in Italy – billed by the composer as a symphony with solo viola – has the character of a sinfonia concertante, something the violist Antoine Tamestit has been known to experiment with in concert, literally coming out from the body of the orchestra for his solo passages.

The sinfonia concertante even made a minor comeback in the 20th century. Prokofiev and Britten both opted for different titles (Symphony-Concerto and Cello Symphony respectively) in works they wrote for Mstislav Rostropovich, but others fully embraced the not-quite-obsolete term. Milhaud – with yet another unusual quartet of solo instruments: bassoon, horn, trumpet and double bass – Walton and Maxwell Davies were among those to resurrect the genre, but the Swiss composer Frank Martin brought it full circle in the 1940s. Scored for harp, harpsichord, piano and double string orchestra, his Petite Symphonie Concertante harkens back both to Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 5 and the late 18th century heyday of the genre.