Johann Wilhelm Wilms (1772 – 1847): Flute Concerto in D Major, op 24
If you were measuring Johann Wilhelm Wilms’ current standing as a composer on a scale of one to ten, with one being “a little neglected” and ten “completely forgotten”, he would probably be about a nine. But had you lived in the Netherlands in the first half of the nineteenth century, you could hardly have missed him. He was Amsterdam’s Mr Music for over half a century, tirelessly engaged as an orchestral player, concert pianist, composer, conductor, administrator, journalist, piano teacher and pedagogue of piano technique, competition juror, pioneer for musicians’ rights and organist at a Mennonite church. He was so much a part of the furniture that when a competition arose to compose a new Dutch National anthem in 1816, Wilms’ setting was declared the winner – beating the only other short-listed entry, also by Wilms*. He was the Netherlands’ most famous composer of his day, and yet he wasn’t even Dutch but rather German by birth.
*Wilms setting of Hendrik Tollens’ poem, Wien Neêrlands Bloed, would serve as the country’s national anthem until 1932.
So why did Wilms disappear so quickly off the musical map after his death? Living under the considerable shadow of Beethoven for most of his career was one contributory factor. Having once been dubbed the Dutch Beethoven, Wilms’ reputation would ultimately be shaped by unfavourable comparisons made between his symphonies (he would write seven in all) and those of his famous contemporary.
Another factor was that his music tended to be fairly conservative in its outlook. As Dominy Clements has noted, “Wilms sits in that period between 18th century classicism and the stylistic passions of the 19th century, and he clearly preferred to look back at the models of the past rather than take part in that avant-garde of poetic expression that was taking off in Vienna and elsewhere.” But Wilms was also a child of the 1790s, the first and most formative decade of his career. His musical god was not Beethoven but Haydn – at a time when the latter was still writing some of his best symphonies. Wilms would always regard Haydn’s music as his creative starting point.
His other creative roots had already been laid down in his childhood town near Cologne. His musical education was unspectacular – he was taught by his organist father, a local Lutheran pastor and to an extent by himself. As soon as he felt ready, the young Johann Wilhelm took himself off to Amsterdam, arriving in 1791 as a talented pianist, flautist and budding composer. Wilms would throw himself so wholeheartedly into the musical life of the city that he barely had time to draw breath for the next thirty years. He would find work playing the flute in various orchestras while slowly building up his reputation as a piano virtuoso – he later appeared as soloist in the Dutch premieres of several Mozart and Beethoven piano concertos. He taught piano at several musical institutions and eventually wrote his own piano method for beginners.
In 1796 he founded the Collège Eruditio Musicato, unusual for its time as an independent and self-financing orchestra committed to performing music that might otherwise fall off the radar in Amsterdam’s musical life. Although Wilms wrote much of his own music for the ensemble, his creative endeavours were increasingly interrupted by his numerous other responsibilities, teaching and otherwise, as well as his need to provide plentifully for his own family (he had by now married the daughter of a wealthy art collector). He once commented that his compositions were only possible in the hours which remained “after his varied and tiring daily business.” He would even complain to fellow composer Johann Nepomuk Hummel, “I’m just a poor musical day labourer.”
Somehow Wilms found the time to compose a Symphony in C Major, which was performed to great acclaim all around the country. But its success only saw him in ever more demand, with his duties ranging far and wide – from interviewing prospective church organists in Amsterdam, to judging music competitions, to sitting on prestigious committees, to serving as a leading member of the Netherlands’ Academy of Sciences, Literature and Fine Arts. He even for a time operated as the Amsterdam correspondent for a German music magazine, Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, where he grumbled repeatedly about the relative lack of performance opportunities for Dutch composers*.
*Despite his occasional soapboxing, the same publication was evidently appreciative of Wilms’ contributions, describing him as “one of the wittiest, liveliest and most educated [of] artists”.
Being the archetypal establishment figure did not always mean that Wilms was a good company man. He had numerous disagreements with his contemporaries and he could be stubborn. But many of the things he argued for now appear to cast him in an honourable light – as a director of Amsterdam’s Society for the Promotion of Musical Arts in the 1830s, he would question the organisation’s tendency to favour homegrown over foreign musicians, regardless of the latter’s talent. As late as 1840, he was invited to join the newly created Caecilia Cooperative, whose mission was to aid the artistic and social emancipation of professional musicians – a cause always close to Wilms’ heart, but one not always endearing him to more conservative colleagues.
A series of family tragedies in the early 1820s (including the loss of both his wife and infant daughter) led Wilms to step back from much of his work. For the last twenty-five years of his life his main activity was as a church organist and writing the odd new symphony. He died in relatively old age, but in a musical world now almost unrecognizable from the one of his youth. His adopted city continued to regard him with great affection, and in later years he was known as “Vader Wilms” (Father Wilms).
Despite the long period of obscurity following his death, there have been recent moves to redress the balance. New recordings have been issued of his symphonies, while 2003 saw the creation of the International Johann Wilhelm Wilms Society in Bonn. Among other things, the society have republished many of his compositions which were long out of print.
The temptation to dismiss Wilms’ music because he was less progressive than some of his more famous contemporaries is as wrong-headed as it is regrettable. The end result is that we miss out on some beautiful and unfamiliar music – his Flute Concerto in D Major being one example of that. Had either Mozart or Haydn written the piece instead of Wilms it would almost certainly be much better known today. It owes much to those two Classical composers, while showing plenty of its own personal inventiveness.
Another notable feature of the concerto is its skilful writing for the flute – perhaps to be expected of a professional flautist – with the more virtuosic possibilities of the instrument explored (including frequent bold leaps across its registers) as well as its lyrical qualities. There is plenty of the latter in the first movement, where the sequential shape of the principal theme lends itself naturally to imitation. At several points, the flute is able to create charming and intricate dialogues with the other woodwind instruments.
The second movement, in a slow and serious B Minor, provides a welcome contrast to the general sunniness of the first, and there are genuine moments of poignancy and pathos. The third and final movement is probably the most interesting of the three. A recurring idea is a jaunty melody on the flute accompanied in equally jaunty fashion by two horns, before the rest of the orchestra gradually joins in. There are notable textural contrasts, and further technically demanding (though always effective) passages for the soloist.
By showcasing all the most attractive sides to his art, Wilms proves in this little concerto that you don’t always have to be a revolutionary to write delightful and meaningful music.