Crucially, Arnold’s years as a jazz trumpeter—he played with the Carroll Gibbons Orchestra in the 1940s—infuse the piece. The Sonatina is not a jazz work, but its syncopated rhythms, blue notes, and conversational interplay between clarinet and piano betray a composer who internalized the energy of the American jazz club. This stylistic fusion, combined with Arnold’s characteristic use of biting harmonic dissonance (often based on triadic clashes and bitonality), gives the piece its unmistakable edge.
The movement opens with a percussive, four-note piano motif (G–A–B♭–E), an acrid cell that will permeate the entire sonatina. The clarinet enters immediately with a leaping, syncopated theme full of angular intervals. Arnold treats the clarinet not as a lyrical instrument but as a rhythmic spearhead. The development section is a whirlwind of staccato articulation, hemiolas, and sudden dynamic contrasts ( subito piano after a sforzando). The movement’s “con brio” (with brilliance) is relentless; there is no true second subject, only a more cantabile but still restless idea in the relative major. The recapitulation compresses the material, ending with a snarling cadence that segues directly into the second movement. malcolm arnold clarinet sonatina pdf
The early 1950s marked a period of stylistic consolidation for Arnold. Having already composed his first two symphonies and the English Dances , he was moving away from the overt influence of Mahler and Walton toward a more acerbic, leaner contrapuntal style. The sonatina form, historically a lighter or shorter sonata, appealed to Arnold’s concision. Unlike the grand Romantic sonata, the sonatina demands immediacy and clarity. Crucially, Arnold’s years as a jazz trumpeter—he played
The work is in three continuous movements, played without pause—a device that heightens dramatic cohesion. The movement opens with a percussive, four-note piano
The finale is a rondo in all but name, driven by a 6/8 tarantella-like rhythm. Arnold unleashes the clarinet’s full virtuosity: rapid-fire tonguing, wide leaps from low E to high C, and playful cross-rhythms. The movement is a showcase of controlled chaos. A recurring “stamping” piano chord interrupts the flow, to which the clarinet responds with increasingly outrageous runs. There is a clear debt to the folk-inflected finales of Bartók and the neo-baroque gigues of Stravinsky. The coda accelerates to a Presto and ends with a brusque, almost rude, downward flourish—a final wink from the composer. The overall effect is exhilarating, leaving the audience breathless.