Bundling Up for Vivaldi's Violin Concerto No. 4 in F minor, RV 297, "Winter" (The Four Seasons)
III. Allegro

Violin Concerto No. 4 in F minor, RV 297

Vivaldi presenting a listen guide for his Violin Concerto No. 4 in F minor, RV 297, "Winter" (The Four Seasons)'s III. Allegro
Hello, I'm Antonio Vivaldi, and now I'll walk you through the III. Allegro movement of my "Winter" concerto. You'll start out on the ice with slow, cautious steps and then feel the sudden slips, and that little drama is well worth the few minutes it takes. Teaching you to recognize our pieces when they start playing is something my fellow composers and I do here as well, so why not  head to the Trainer ?
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Mind Your Step, Please

To listen to this last movement, think of two groups: the full orchestra, which I call the tutti, and the solo violin that steps out of it. The orchestra gives you the cold and the room around you, and the soloist gives you the details, like someone slipping on the ice or the wind howling outside. Underneath, the cellos, basses and basso continuo keep the ground steady, so listen for the moments when that low support drops away and everything feels lighter and more exposed. If you can tell who is speaking at any moment, the orchestra or the soloist, you'll follow the whole story without any trouble.

Why I Just Said Allegro

The title is simply the tempo marking, Allegro, which means lively and brisk. I kept it short because the sonnet that goes with this concerto already tells you what happens: someone walks carefully on ice, slips, falls, and hears cold winds find their way in through locked doors. The music comes back to F minor here, so the cold of the first movement returns, but the pace is quicker and the mood is more daring. The sonnet ends by saying that winter still brings its own delights, and I think that's why this movement feels more like an adventure than a complaint.

A Form With Room To Wander

For this movement I chose a ritornello form, which means a theme for the whole orchestra keeps coming back, and the soloist plays in the spaces between. I treated that form quite freely, and I even let the soloists open the movement instead of the orchestra, which is the other way around from what you might expect. As the returns of the orchestra's theme go by, they pass through F minor, C minor and E-flat major, and that changing scenery gives the movement its sense of travel. I'll take the sections one at a time, so you'll know exactly where you are on the ice.

Section 1: Tiptoeing Before The Fall

The movement begins in F minor with cautious, slow steps, as if someone is testing every inch of the ice before trusting it. Then come the sudden slips, quick little stumbles that interrupt the careful walking and make you hold your breath. I wanted you to feel the tension of moving slowly when you know the ground can give way at any moment. This opening sets the mood for everything that follows, because the carefulness never quite goes away.

Section 2: The North Wind Wants A Word

Next the soloist takes over and plays the cold north winds, rushing and restless and hard to pin down. The orchestra keeps cutting in with its full sound, as if it won't let the wind have the last word. In this stretch the music moves through C minor, which gives the whole scene a darker and stormier colour. The back and forth between the soloist and the full group is the heart of the movement, so this is where your two-sided listening pays off.

Section 3: The Floor Falls Away

Then the orchestra's theme returns in E-flat major, and this is my favourite surprise. In this return I leave out the cellos, the double bass and the continuo, so the music loses its low foundation. Without that weight the sound turns light and slightly unsteady, which is exactly how the ground feels beneath your feet on ice. The brighter key also lets a little warmth in, as if you've caught a glimpse of the delights that the sonnet promises.

Section 4: Home At Last, Still In F Minor

The movement ends with a long final tutti, and the music comes back to F minor. Here the whole orchestra plays together again, and the winter that seemed so unpredictable now feels firmly in charge. The wind, the slips and the careful steps all come back in the closing pages, so you hear the whole journey one last time. I don't end it with a gentle fade, and that fits a winter that arrives with force and doesn't ask permission.

Now It's Your Turn To Walk On The Ice

Now it's your time to listen, so press play and let the winter carry you along. While it plays, keep an ear out for the soloist and the orchestra answering each other, and notice the moment when the low instruments disappear. You don't need to know anything about music for this to work, because the cold, the wind and the slips are all there to hear. I had a wonderful time writing this movement, and I hope you enjoy every careful step of it as much as I did.
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I hope you enjoyed learning about the listen guide of the III. Allegro, the last movement of my "Winter" concerto. Now that you've heard the careful steps on the ice, the slips and the cold wind creeping in through locked doors, I hope the movement feels a little more familiar. It's a fitting way to end, because the sonnet reminds us that winter still brings its own delights, and I think the music leaves you with that warmth. There's more to discover about this concerto than one movement can show you, from the story behind it to the other movements and the way each one paints its own part of the season. If you'd like to keep exploring, please click on the links on this page and follow whichever one catches your interest. I'd be glad to have you back for another listen.