Festival Program Notes 2025
Written by Nic OrbovichAugust 9
Archangelo Corelli, 1653-1713
Sonata a tre #6
Only few works in music history can adorn themselves with the attribute ‘epoch-making’. Arcangelo Corelli’s trio sonatas are among them. With his Sonate da chiesa Op. 1 and Sonate da camera Op. 2, Corelli, in 1681 and 1685 respectively, laid the foundation for a genre which was to become the authoritative chamber music genre for almost 100 years. It was only in 1781 that it was superseded by Joseph Haydn’s String Quartets Op. 33, which also constituted a work group of epoch-making significance. From the historical point of view, even the string quartet is a ‘child’ of the trio sonata; thus, Corelli’s significance as founder of the European chamber music genre cannot be valued too highly.
Giuseppe Verdi, 1813-1901
String Quartet
Verdi’s production of Aida in early March, 1873 was delayed due to the sudden illness of soprano Teresa Stolz. Verdi focused his time in Naples on the writing of his first chamber work, the String Quartet in E minor. The work was premiered two days after the opening of Aida during an informal recital at his hotel on April 1, 1873. The names of the original performers survive only as Pinto brothers, violins, Salvadore, viola, and Giarritiello, cello.Verdi commented on the work, saying “I’ve written a Quartet in my leisure moments in Naples. I had it performed one evening in my house, without attaching the least importance to it and without inviting anyone in particular. Only the seven or eight persons who usually come to visit me were present. I don’t know whether the Quartet is beautiful or ugly, but I do know that it’s a Quartet!” The quartet also exists in a version for string orchestra by Arturo Toscanini.
Barbara Strozzi (also called Barbara Valle; baptised 6 August 1619 – 11 November 1677)
“Non c’e piu fede”
“Che si puo fare”
Barbara Strozzi (also called Barbara Valle; baptised 6 August 1619 – 11 November 1677) was an Italian composer and singer of the Baroque Period. During her lifetime, Strozzi published eight volumes of her own music, and had more secular music in print than any other composer of the era. This was achieved without support from the Church or consistent patronage from the nobility.
Text to “Non c’e piu fede”
Non c’è più fede, no, no.
Come rea di tradimento,
Fu da amor posta al tormento,
E un rival morte gli diede.
Vestitevi a bruno,
Pensieri dolenti,
Di pianti e lamenti
È il tempo opportuno.
Di doglie ciascuno,
Di pene e tormenti
Deh, facciasi herede.
Non c’è più fede…
Translation to “Non c’e piu fede”
Constancy is no more.
Convicted of treason,
it was consigned to torture by love,
and a rival has put it to death.
Put on mourning,
sad thoughts,
it’s a time
for tears and lamenting.
In grief
let all be heir
to afflictions and torments.
Constancy is no more…
Text to “Che si puo fare?”
Che si può fare?
Le stelle rubelle
Non hanno pietà.
Che s’el cielo non dà
Un influsso di pace al mio penare,
Che si può fare?
Che si può dire?
Da gl’astri disastri
Mi piovano ogn’hor;
Che le perfido amor
Un respiro diniega al mio martire,
Che si può dire?
Così va rio destin forte tiranna,
Gl’innocenti condanna:
Così l’oro più fido
Di costanza e di fè, lasso conviene,
lo raffini d’ogn’hor fuoco di pene.
Sì, sì, penar deggio,
Sì, che darei sospiri,
Deggio trarne i respiri.
In aspri guai per eternarmi
Il ciel niega mia sorte
Al periodo vital
Punto di morte.
Voi spirti dannati
Ne sete beati
S’ogni eumenide ria
Sol’ è intenta a crucciar l’anima mia.
Se sono sparite
Le furie di Dite,
Voi ne gl’elisi eterni
I dì trahete io coverò gl’inferni.
Così avvien a chi tocca
Calcar l’orme d’un cieco,
Al fin trabbocca.
Translation to “Che si puo fare”
What can you do?
The stars, intractable,
have no pity.
Since the gods don’t give
a measure of peace in my suffering,
what can I do?
What can you say?
From the heavens disasters
keep raining down on me;
Since that treacherous Cupid
denies respite to my torture,
what can I say?
That’s how it is with cruel destiny
the powerful tyrant, it condemns the innocent:
thus the purest gold
of constancy and faithfulness, alas,
is continually refined in the fire of pain.
Yes, yes, I have to suffer,
yes, I must sigh,
I must breathe with difficulty.
In order to eternalize my trials
heaven witholds from me
the final period of death
to my lifespan
You spirits of the damned,
you’re blessed,
since all the cruel Eumenides *
are intent only on torturing my soul.
Since the furies of Dis *
have disappeared,
you spend your days in the Elysian fields
while I molder in hell.
Thus it happens that he who follows
the shadow of a blind god
stumbles in the end.
Vincenzo Bellini: I Capuleti e Montecchi
Eccomi… Oh! quante volte” is a famous aria from Vincenzo Bellini’s opera, I Capuleti e i Montecchi. It is sung by Giulietta (Juliet) in Act I, as she reflects on her impending marriage and expresses her longing for Romeo. The phrase “Oh! quante volte” translates to “Oh, how many times,” and the aria captures Juliet’s emotional turmoil and passionate yearning for Romeo amidst the constraints of her family and impending arranged marriage.
In the opera, Giulietta is being forced to marry Tebaldo (Tybalt) by her father, Capellio. However, she is secretly in love with Romeo, the leader of the rival Montecchi (Montague) family.
Text to “Oh, quante volte, oh quante!”
Eccomi in lieta vesta…
Eccomi adorna
come vittima all’ara
Oh! almen potessi, qual vittima,
cader dell’ara al piede!
O nuziali tede, aborrite
cosi, cosi fatali,
siate
Translation to “Oh, quante volte, oh quante!”
Here I am, in such gay clothing…
Here I am, dressed up
like a victim about to be sacrificed at the altar
Oh, if I could at least, like a victim,
fall at the feet of the altar!
Oh, nuptial lights, repulsive,
so, so fate
Gioachino Rossini: Il viaggio a Reims
“ Partir, oh ciel, desio” is a key aria from Gioachino Rossini’s opera Il viaggio a Reims (The Journey to Reims) This aria is sung by the character Contessa di Folleville.
It occurs after the Countess learns that she has lost her luggage in an accident while on her way to the coronation of Charles X in Reims. Initially, she expresses despair and sadness over the loss of her luxurious attire. However, when her maid appears with a salvaged hat, she is overcome with relief and joy.
The aria is known for its demanding coloratura passages, showcasing the soprano’s vocal agility and technique. It includes quick scales, trills, staccato notes, and high notes. The music reflects the emotional shift from despair to joy. Some program notes describe it as having a fast and exciting pace with magnificent piano accompaniment. This aria highlights the Countess’s somewhat frivolous and self-absorbed nature, characteristic of the satirical tone of the opera. It serves as a showcase for the soprano portraying the role, allowing them to demonstrate their vocal prowess.
August 11
Aaron Copland, 1900-1990
Sonata for Violin & Piano
The year 1943 found Aaron Copland in an unexpected place—Hollywood. He spent much of that year working on the score to the film The North Star, a piece of wartime propaganda that has been completely forgotten. But while he was in Hollywood, Copland completed two other works—the chamber-ballet Appalachian Spring and the Sonata for Violin and Piano. They are among his finest compositions: Appalachian Spring won the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 1945, and the Violin Sonata may well be the greatest by an American composer. The two scores are cut from the same cloth. They may have been written in the middle of World War II, but rather than reflecting the tension or martial spirit one might expect from wartime compositions, both are peaceful and—for the most part—serene. Appalachian Spring celebrates young love and life on the American frontier, but the Violin Sonatais more abstract. Critics have spoken of its “calm elevation” and referred to it as “hymn-like” and “pastoral”; Copland himself called it one of his “most accessible” works. Yet beneath this music’s seemingly simple surface runs a darker vein, touched with moments of emotion and pain. The score is dedicated to one of Copland’s friends who had been shot down and killed that year in the South Pacific, and those who set out to perform this sonata must find a way to balance the light and the darkness that are both part of this sonata.
Samuel Barber, 1910-1981
Sonata for Cello & Piano
The music of American composer Samuel Barber is most widely known from the use of his Adagio for Strings in the 1986 anti-war film Platoon. His songs and instrumental works, however, are equally popular in the programs of the world’s leading concert artists and ensembles. Barber’s Piano Sonata, for example, was performed more than once in the piano semifinals of the prestigious Tchaikovsky International Music Competition in Moscow earlier this year. But the enduring popularity of Barber’s music should be no surprise, given its vocally-inspired lyricism and its sympathy with the Romantic-era aesthetic that still lies at the heart of the modern concert repertoire. Barber’s Cello Sonata was written in 1932 when the composer was still studying at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia and Brahms in particular looms large as an influence on its compositional style. Among its Brahmsian features are its high-serious tone and emotional intensity, its employment of cross-rhythms, and its luxuriant use of the rich low range of the keyboard. Among its modern features, however, are its frequent changes in meter and the angularity of many of its melodies. The first movement opens with a series of melodic leaps in both the piano and cello, much in the manner of the surging opening of Brahms’ Cello Sonata No. 2 in F major Op. 99. A smooth songful melody soon appears in the cello as a second theme, and is then taken up by the piano, but the development section of this sonata-form movement is largely preoccupied with the melodic leaps that opened the work. Indeed, the interval of a minor 6th is a recurring motive throughout the entire movement. Instead of writing a slow movement and a scherzo, Barber imbeds a fast-paced scherzo within his slow movement. The contrast could not be greater. The opening Adagio is slow and purposefully lyrical, with the resolution of each appoggiatura and harmonic dissonance a notable event. The Presto is a classic scherzo: fleet and lightly textured, bristling with rhythmic tricks and coy interplay between the instruments. The finale displays Barber the neo-Romantic at full sail, plying successive waves of emotion. It opens with a passionate piano solo churning restlessly in the bass in support of a yearning right-hand melody in the mid-range. The cello when it enters is equally incandescent and the emotional range of the movement as a whole is wide in the extreme. In contrast to the often thrashing assertiveness of the keyboard texture, it also features sections of dreamy remembrance of previous movements, as well as playful episodes—all within the formal constraints of a sonata-form structure. A major challenge for the performers is the coordination of the thorny cross-rhythms and lightning-fast changes in tempo that qualify this movement, like the others, as both willfully Romantic and unabashedly modern.
Leonard Bernstein, 1918-1990
Trio for Piano & Strings
Bernstein’s first published work was the sonata for clarinet and piano from 1942. But several years earlier in 1937, a 19-year-old Bernstein attending Walter Piston’s composition class at Harvard composed what some have called his true “Opus 1”, a three-movement piano trio eventually published over forty years later in 1979. Though Bernstein categorized it as “juvenilia”, it is a compelling work full of confidence, energy and some sophistication if not possibly some foreshadowing of Bernstein’s more mature oeuvre. The first movement is a rather ambitious (and effective) essay in counterpoint featuring three different short themes weaving violin, cello and piano into imitative textures propelled by rhythmic drive and sparkling figurations to an exciting climax featuring a formal fugue roughly in the manner of Bach. Some have suggested this was Bernstein proving to his professor he knew how to write a proper fugue after a prior incident of criticism in the classroom. The second movement marked “Tempo di marcia” is a jocular set of variations on a tuneful pizzicato theme with “blues” notes that not only suggests Bernstein’s familiar style but was actually repurposed for “On the Town.” The variations are full of scherzando syncopations sounding “jazzy” and “American” on one hand and a bit like the neo-classical hijinks of Prokofiev or Stravinsky on the other. The finale begins rather neatly with an atmospheric slow introduction reprising the first movement’s fugal theme. The main part of the last movement launches into a modal theme sounding somewhat like an Eastern European folk song with a Gypsy accelerando. The subsequent music shimmers with pulsing rhythmic energy one might associate with American music of time from the likes of Walter Piston or, more famously, Aaron Copland who eventually became Bernstein’s mentor and his primary teacher of composition.
Jessie Montgomery, b. 1981
“Musings” for 2 violins
Musings, for two violins, is designed as a series of short movements inspired by the 44 Duos for Two Violins by Béla Bartók — a piece we violinists tend to revisit throughout life because of its nimble nature and programmatic effect. I also wanted to pay homage to some of my favorite composers of string music so that each movement is inspired by a different composer: J.S. Bach, Paul Hindemith, Antonio Vivaldi, Darius Milhaud, and references to my own Duo for Violin and Cello throughout. Each movement is like a passing whim, although distinct in character. — Jessie Montgomery; Commissioned by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for MusicNOW and by The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center for Paul Huang and Danbi Um.
Alyssa Morris, b. 1984
“Four Summer Nights”
Four Summer Nights for oboe and bassoon is written for and dedicated to Nancy Ambrose King and Trevor King. This duo is meant to evoke nostalgia and depict four fond summer memories. Movement titles are: Lakeside Reflection, Saturday Night Lights, Idyllwild Starlight, and Steel Vengeance. Lakeside Reflection paints the picture of an evening stroll around a sparkling lake in the upper peninsula of Michigan. Peaceful conversation takes place between the lakeside strollers as they wander around the reflecting pool. Saturday Night Lights is an oboist and bassoonist’s depiction of a football game! First is kickoff, then first, second, third, and fourth down. The band plays stand tunes and the referee blows a whistle. Will the team win? Finally, a TOUCHDOWN, and the fight song rings through the stadium! Idyllwild Starlight is a nostalgic and shimmering nocturne depicting stargazing in the mountains. The sparkling of stars and a sweet lullaby can be heard in the oboe and bassoon lines as the listener is invited to look up into the heavens and be dazzled by the beauty and majesty of the night sky. Steel Vengeance is a roller coaster in Cedar Point, an amusement park in Ohio. Cedar Point is a roller coaster enthusiast’s mecca, and Steel Vengeance is one of the record breaking roller coasters in the park. It is the longest hybrid roller coaster in the world. It drops riders 200 feet at 90 degrees! Riders rise, fall, and travel through four inversions before returning back to where they began! Many thanks to Dr. Nancy Ambrose King for the opportunity to compose this work for her and her son in honor of the both of them and their family memories, and for inspiring with her wisdom and incredible musicality. -Alyssa Morris
“Life Shifts” by Dosia McKay
Dosia McKay, born in the Baltic city of Gdańsk, Poland, is an American composer of music for the concert stage, film, and modern dance. Her portfolio includes works for symphony orchestra, chamber ensembles, choir, soloists, as well as electro-acoustic installations. She is equally at home writing for live performers and traditional instruments as she is modulating the parameters of her software synthesizers. A versatile sound colorist, McKay in her recent compositions, has been drawn toward vibrant and rich sonic landscapes reflective of her own abstract paintings while her earlier works exhibit a type of Slavic nostalgia expressed by introspective, minor tonalities, and lyrical melodies. (She was, born and raised in Poland and has lived in the United States for over thirty years).
Recognized for her emotionally charged and vivid orchestral writing, in 2023 Dosia McKay was commissioned by the Knoxville Symphony to compose The Lure of the Flowering Fern for chamber orchestra and the 2021/2022 season has brought her debut with the New York City Ballet in the performance of her two orchestral pieces, Unveiling and Is Now Not Enough?, to the choreography of Sidra Bell and costume design by Christopher John Rogers at the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center in New York and The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. In 2021, the Knoxville Symphony premiered her Watercolors for symphony orchestra at the Tennessee Theater. Dosia McKay’s music has been featured on National Public Radio and in concerts at the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center in New York, The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., the Festival Gdynia Classica Nova in Poland, the Beijing Modern Music Festival in China, in Spain, France, the Knoxville Museum of Art, the Tennessee Theater, the Electro-Music Festival in Asheville, the Diana Wortham Theater in Asheville, and others. Notable performers include the New York City Ballet Orchestra, The Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra, the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra, the Knox-Galesburg Symphony, the North/South Consonance Orchestra of New York, the Polish avant-garde string quartet NeoQuartet, the Polish Orpheus Orchestra, the Asheville chamber music repertory company Pan Harmonia, the S.E.M. Ensemble, Spartanburg Philharmonic String Trio, Asheville Ballet, Baroque lutenist Will Tocaben, Argentine guitar virtuoso Sergio Puccini, and many others.
Recent projects include Days of Innocence for piano quintet, Life Shifts for cello solo (a commission from D. Scot Williams), Earthrise, a new work for symphony orchestra, Groundless, an album of post-classical electro-acoustic music, a commission from the Knoxville Symphony to compose a solo piece for the principal tuba player Sande MacMorran, a commission from Pan Harmonia underwritten by a grant from the North Carolina Arts Council in celebration of Pan Harmonia’s 20th season to compose Rubble Becomes Art, a song cycle based on the writings of North Carolina women poets.
Of her album of music for string quartet entitled Glossolalia recorded by NeoQuartet and premiered at the Beijing Modern Music Festival in China in 2015, the New York magazine I Care If You Listen has written: “McKay composed music which eloquently and expertly describes the human condition [. . .] long, luxurious melodies [. . .] an album that politely refuses to be pigeonholed [. . .] rarely is there an album of new music so expertly performed and packaged”, and the Polish magazine Trójmiasto remarked: “The music is ecstatic and trance-inducing, strongly influencing emotions of the listener, even one who is not musically educated”. Dosia McKay was born and raised in Poland. At the age of nine, she began her music studies at the Primary Music School in Wejherowo concentrating on classical guitar, flute, and piano, and continued her education at the Primary and Secondary Music School in Gdańsk, majoring in flute performance under Ewa Pinno and Katarzyna Wittschenbach.
She has been a freelance artist concentrating on chamber, orchestral, big band, and studio music. Although a gifted performer and an improviser, McKay did not formally study composition until she was 34, when she began private study with composer Kenneth A. Jacobs. Dosia McKay holds M.M. in Scoring for Film and Multimedia from New York University where she studied composition with Marc-Antonio Consoli, Ira Newborn, and Rich Shemaria, and B.M. in Composition from the University of Tennessee where she studied with Kenneth A. Jacobs and James R. Carlson. She also participated in masterclasses with Steve Reich, Julia Wolfe, David Lang, Morton Subotnick, Pauline Oliveros, Meredith Monk, Michael Colgrass, Bright Sheng, Jacob ter Veldhuis, Steve Stucky, Mark Snow, Derek Bermel, and others. She is a member of the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP). Her music is published by Gavia Music.
Grażyna Bacewicz (5 February 1909 – 17 January 1969)
Polish Capricioso for solo violin
Grażyna Bacewicz was a Polish composer and violinist of Lithuanian origin. She is the second Polish female composer to have achieved national and international recognition, the first being Maria Szymanowska in the early 19th century.
Bacewicz was born in Łódź on February 5, 1909 to parents Maria and Vincas (Wicenty) Bacewicz. Her father, having been from Lithuania, instilled a deep connection to their Lithuanian heritage, despite changing his name from the Lithuanian Bacevičius to Bacewicz. He also was her first music teacher, and insisted all four of their children study violin, piano, and fundamental music theory from a young age. Grażyna was the third of four children, with two older brothers, Kiejstut and Vytuatas, and one younger sister, Wanda. Vytautas identified as Lithuanian, using his father’s original last name (Bacevičius), and also became an accomplished pianist and composer. Grażyna performed her first concert at the age of seven, alongside her brothers, and she wrote her first piece at around thirteen years old. In 1928, she began studying at the Warsaw Conservatory, where she studied violin with Józef Jarzębski and composition with Kazimierz Sikorski; she also studied piano with Józef Turczyński for two semesters. After graduating in 1932, she attended composition classes led by Nadia Boulanger at the École Normale de Musique. During this time, she continued to play violin, and studied with André Touret and Carl Flesch.
After completing her studies, Bacewicz continued her musical career as both a composer and performer, appearing as a soloist and acting as a jury member for competitions. She served as the concertmaster of the Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra, directed by Grzegorz Fitelberg from 1936-1938. During this time, the orchestra performed her first violin concerto, as well as her Three Songs for tenor and orchestra.[5] She married her husband, physician and medical professor Adrzej Biernacki, in 1936, and the couple had a daughter, Alina Biernacka, in 1942. During World War II, Bacewicz moved to Warsaw, where she continued to compose and perform in secretive underground concerts, which is where she premiered her Suite for Two Violins.[6] Following the Warsaw uprising, Bacewicz and her family escaped the destroyed city and temporarily settled in Lublin. After the war, she took up a position as a professor at the State Conservatoire of Music in Łódź.
“Bacewicz’s reputation grew during the post-war era, despite the general censorship resulting from political realisation of socialist cultural reforms”. Despite the ideological control of arts, Bacewicz continued composing from 1945 to 1955, even though it was difficult to perform many of them. With her rising recognition, as well as growing number of awards and commissions, she began to shift her focus towards composition. In 1954, she was involved in a car accident, causing her family minor injuries, but breaking Bacewicz’s pelvis and some of her ribs, hospitalizing her for an extended period. This forced her to consider composition as her only occupation, as she was no longer able to perform. In 1956, the first Warsaw Autumn Festival featured three of her compositions, and at each of the Autumn Festivals in subsequent years, her music became a signature of the events. Her output became prolific during this time, and was widely acclaimed. She continued to compose until her death in 1969 in Warsaw.
Zoltan Kodaly: Sonata for solo cello,
Zoltán Kodály (16 December 1882 – 6 March 1967) was a Hungarian composer, ethnomusicologist, music pedagogue, linguist, and philosopher. He is well known internationally as the creator of the Kodály method of music education.
“In twenty-five years no cellist will be accepted into the world of cellists who does not play my piece,” boldly declared Zoltán Kodály of his Cello Sonata in B minor Op. 8. And he was right. When composed in 1915 this work represented the most important contribution to the solo cello literature since the Bach cello suites of the early 18th century. But because of its extraordinary technical difficulty and innovative musical language, it struggled to find an audience until Hungarian cellist János Starker (1924-2013) recorded it in 1939, winning a Grand Prix du Disque for his efforts. And as its fame grew, he went on to record it again – three more times.
The sonata’s roots lie deep in Hungarian folk music, which Kodály had studied in his travels through the Hungarian countryside with Béla Bartók in 1908. Specifically, the Sonata inhabits the sound world of the Hungarian folk lament, with which it shares the same improvisatory feel, parlando rubato (free reciting) performance style, and downward-seeking melodies. Its harmonies are non-functional but rather modal, with a preference for the pentatonic scale. And yet Kodály manages to fit these non-standard features into the formal structures of traditional Western-European art music.
This is a powerful piece, a piece that grabs you by the throat and impresses itself on you. The reason is easy to see. As Kodály says: “What musical features are characteristic of Hungarian music? In general, it is active rather than passive, an expression of will rather than emotion. Aimless grieving and tears of merriment do not appear in our music. Even the Székely [region] laments radiate resolute energy.”
This resolute energy is on full display as the work opens. It begins with two quadruple-stop B minor chords, followed by a defiant theme in a sarabande rhythm, heavily weighted on the second beat of the bar. Motivic elements announced in these opening bars will permeate the movement. The sonata’s second theme is much quieter and features a recurring murmur of neighbour notes that continually shadow its melody lines. The development deals almost exclusively with the first theme and climaxes in an orgy of trills, leading to a recapitulation which, by compensation, deals mostly with the second theme. Each section in this movement clearly opens with quadruple-stop chords, giving a degree of formal clarity to the whole.
The second movement Adagio comes closest in this sonata to imitating the sound of the human voice. Beginning its low lament deep at the bottom of the instrument’s register it is soon accompanied by the echoing ornate melody of a shepherd’s pipe and a plucked low drone, as if from a lyre, that acts as an anchoring pitch for much of the movement. Playing both arco and pizzicato at the same time, the cello imitates a solo voice in company with a fitful instrumental accompaniment. The emotional outpouring reaches a height of improvisatory frenzy in a middle section rife with quivering tremolos and rapidly accelerating figurations, before returning to the darkly contemplative mood of its opening bars.
The third movement Allegro molto vivace is a major test of endurance for the performer. It contains some of the most challenging technical passages in the cello repertoire as the instrument is called upon to imitate a wide range of folk instruments, from the jangling timbre of the cimbalom or hammered dulcimer, to the bagpipes (with drone 5ths in the bass), and plucked instruments such as the lyre. Unfolding as a series of textural variations, it alludes strongly to the repertoire of verbunkos melodies, played by gypsy bands in the 19th century to accompany town recruitment drives into the army. And the ‘flashiness’ of gypsy fiddling is everywhere apparent in variation after variation as this movement drives to its frenetic conclusion.
Franz Liszt: Mephisto Waltz #1,
The first Mephisto Waltz is a typical example of program music, taking for its program an episode from Nikolaus Lenau‘s 1836 verse drama Faust [de] (not from Goethe’s Faust). The following program note, which Liszt took from Lenau, appears in the printed score: There is a wedding feast in progress in the village inn, with music, dancing, carousing. Mephistopheles and Faust pass by, and Mephistopheles induces Faust to enter and take part in the festivities. Mephistopheles snatches the fiddle from the hands of a lethargic fiddler and draws from it indescribably seductive and intoxicating strains. The amorous Faust whirls about with a full-blooded village beauty in a wild dance; they waltz in mad, abandon out of the room, into the open, away into the woods. The sounds of the fiddle grow softer and softer, and the nightingale warbles his love-laden song.
Liszt intended to publish the Waltz simultaneously with the Night Procession: “…The publication of the two Lenau’s Faust episodes… I entrust to Schuberth’s own judgement; as to whether the piano version or the score appears first, makes no difference to me; the only important thing is that both pieces should appear simultaneously, the Night Procession as No.1 and the Mephisto Waltz as No.2. There is naturally no thematic relationship between the two pieces; but they are related nonetheless by all the contrasts of emotions.
A Mephisto of this kind may only arise from such a poodle!…” Liszt’s request was not fulfilled and the two episodes were published separately. The waltz was conceived as both an orchestra and a piano work. Three versions, orchestral (S.110/2), piano duet (S.599/2) and piano solo, (S.514), all date more or less from the same period (1859–62). The piano duet version is a straightforward transcription of the orchestral version, while the solo piano version is an independent composition. Liszt dedicated the piece to Karl Tausig, his favourite pupil. A further two piano version, published by Schuberth in 1885, was arranged by Dr. Fritz Stade and later revised by Isidor Phillip.
Frederic Chopin: Sonata #2 for solo piano
Frederic Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 2 in B flat minor, Op. 35, is a powerful and emotionally complex work, often referred to as the “Funeral March” sonata due to its famous third movement. The sonata is structured in four movements: a somber introduction followed by a fiery, agitated main section in the first movement; a brilliant but unsettling Scherzo; the iconic “Funeral March” in the third movement; and a turbulent, almost demonic Finale.
First Movement: The Grave – Doppio movimento (B♭ minor – B♭ major) beginswitha slow, dramatic introduction, quickly giving way to a fast, agitated main section with a galloping rhythm. This movement showcases Chopin’s mastery of sonata form, with lyrical interludes providing contrast to the intense main theme.
Second Movement: The Scherzo (E♭ minor with a trio and ending both in G♭ major) is a tour de force of virtuosity and drama. It features biting octaves, leaping chords, and double notes, creating an atmosphere of brilliance under fire. The middle section, a serene and lyrical trio in G♭ major, offers a stark contrast to the outer sections.
Third Movement: The Marche funèbre: Lento (B♭ minor with a trio in D♭ major) is the most recognizable movement, known for its solemn and deeply emotional “Funeral March”. The main theme, a mournful melody over a somber accompaniment, is iconic in classical music. The trio provides a moment of contrasting lyricism, offering a brief respite before the return of the funeral march.
Fourth Movement: The Finale: Presto (B♭ minor) is a whirlwind of notes, a rondo with a powerful, unstoppable refrain. This movement creates a sense of relentless energy and virtuosity, culminating in a dazzling coda that brings the sonata to a powerful conclusion.
Franz Liszt: Hungarian Rhapsody #2 for four hands piano
The Hungarian-born composer and pianist Franz Liszt was strongly influenced by the music heard in his youth, particularly Hungarian folk music, with its unique gypsy scale, rhythmic spontaneity and direct, seductive expression. These elements would eventually play a significant role in Liszt’s compositions. Although this prolific composer’s works are highly varied in style, a relatively large part of his output is nationalistic in character, the Hungarian Rhapsodies being an ideal example.
Composed in 1847 and dedicated to Count László Teleki, Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 was first published as a piano solo in 1851 by Bartholf Senff. Its immediate success and popularity on the concert stage led to an orchestrated version, arranged (together with five other rhapsodies) in 1857–1860 by the composer in collaboration with Franz Doppler, and published by Schuberth in 1874–1875. In addition to the orchestral version, the composer arranged a piano duet version in 1874, published by Schuberth the following year. Offering an outstanding contrast to the serious and dramatic lassan, the following friska holds enormous appeal for audiences, with its simple alternating tonic and dominant harmonization, its energetic, toe-tapping rhythms, and breathtaking “pianistics”.
Most unusual in this composition is the composer’s invitation for the performer to perform a cadenza, although most pianists choose to decline the invitation.[citation needed] Marc-André Hamelin composed a cadenza that has since become famous for its originality, musicality and playfulness, and Sergei Rachmaninoff also wrote a famous cadenza for his interpretation. Liszt himself wrote several cadenzas for his pupils’ performances of the piece, plus this version for four hands.
August 15
L. Boulanger: “D’un Matin de Printemps”
Marie-Juliette Olga Lili Boulanger was born in Paris, France, on August 21, 1893, and died in Mézy-au-Seine, France, on March 15, 1918. Along with D’un Soir triste (“Of a Sad Evening”), D’un Matin de printemps (“Of a Spring Morning”) was begun in spring 1917 and completed early the following year; although she continued writing nearly up until her death, illness necessitated the help of her sister Nadia in notating some of the works that occupied her last months. The piece also exists in chamber-music versions for either flute or violin with piano and for piano trio (violin, cello, and piano). The score used in this week’s BSO performances is an edition by C.F. Nieweg. Lili Boulanger’s D’un Matin de printemps (“Of a Spring Morning”) was composed, along with its companion piece D’un Soir triste (“Of a Sad Evening”), during the last months of the composer’s short life. By this time, Boulanger had already made a name for herself as the first woman ever to win the prestigious Prix de Rome and was lauded for her unique compositional voice among her fellow Impressionists.
At only 24 years old she lay stricken with terminal illness, her sister Nadia by her side and the German bombardment advancing on nearby Paris. Her final works convey the intimate and mature compositional voice that, even under such circumstances, continued to explore color and harmony. In particular, the vigor of D’un Matin de printemps, completed two months before her death, belies her fragile condition.
Boulanger was born on August 21, 1893, in Paris to a family of musicians: her mother Raïssa Mischetzky was a performer, her father Ernest a composer, and their friends included Gabriel Fauré. Her older sister Nadia is perhaps the most famous of the family, remembered especially for her mentorship of a multitude of international composers (including Aaron Copland and Ástor Piazzolla). Boulanger contracted bronchial pneumonia as a toddler, leaving her in a weakened state, and from that point on she suffered from chronic bouts of intestinal tuberculosis, which would eventually lead to her death. Due to her condition, Boulanger studied privately rather than enrolling fully at the Paris Conservatoire. Once she became determined to pursue the Prix de Rome, however, she joined Paul Vidal’s composition class in addition to studying with Georges Caussade. Her father Ernest had won the Prix in 1835, and Nadia had taken second place in 1908; Lili’s first attempt in 1912 was cut short due to illness. On her second try, in 1913 at age 19, she won—the first woman ever to do so. It was a triumph for women composers everywhere, and the international acclaim and resulting contract with the Ricordi publishing company nudged aside the curmudgeonly criticism of the péril rose (“pink peril”), or the supposed threat marked by this milestone of progress.
The prize included a residency at the Villa Medici in Rome, but Boulanger was forced to leave early due to the start of the First World War. She would return in 1916, but again was prevented from completing her stay, this time because of illness. In spite of such major setbacks, she produced some of her best-known works during these years, completing in Rome the song cycle Clairières dans le ciel (“Clearings in the Sky”) and some of her Psalm settings, and she also began her opera La Princesse Maleine, based on a play by Maurice Maeterlinck. Back in Paris, she was active in helping with the war effort, founding the Comité Franco-Americain du Conservatoire National with Nadia to support musicians involved in the conflict. In 1917, when the war made it too dangerous to stay in Paris, Boulanger removed to the town of Mézy with her mother and Nadia. It was clear that her health was rapidly declining. She devoted herself to her final compositions, including ongoing work on La Princesse Maleine, which she never finished.
The number and variety of pieces she worked on during this time would not seem to suggest that Boulanger was approaching the end of her life; the scores themselves reveal the truth, however, written with faint and unclear handwriting as she composed in a weakened state. The companion pieces D’un Soir triste and D’un Matin de printemps were the last notated by her own hand, completed in January 1918. She dictated her final piece, Pie Jesu, to Nadia, who kept vigil at her bedside. Lili Boulanger died a few weeks later, on March 15, 1918. Nadia would go on to have a long and illustrious career, but would always remain her sister’s greatest champion as she worked to preserve her legacy. [When Nadia made her debut as organist with the Boston Symphony Orchestra under Serge Koussevitzky in February 1925, performing Copland’s Organ Symphony, the program also included Lili’s Pour les Funérailles d’un soldat; when Nadia conducted the BSO in 1962, she programmed three of Lili’s Psalm settings for chorus and orchestra.—Ed.]
Almost exactly three years after Boulanger’s death, D’un Soir triste and D’un Matin de printemps were premiered on March 13, 1921, at the Paris Conservatoire with the Concerts Pasdeloup orchestra, Rhené-Baton conducting. Each work exists in multiple versions, with D’un Matin de printemps written also for violin and piano, flute and piano, and piano trio. The two pieces are based upon the same theme, which hovers above and below E before ascending and developing further. In D’un Soir triste, this theme trudges heavily to convey an inconsolable despair, but there is a hint of something brighter on the horizon in the work’s very final moments.
Picking up where this gentle suggestion of hope leaves off, D’un Matin de printemps does indeed feel like dawn breaking, bringing with it renewed vigor. Matin’s brisk opening is underpinned by light eighth notes in the strings, providing momentum as solo flute enters with the main theme. Like much of French music of the time, winds feature prominently, imparting vibrancy with their bright timbre; occasional melodious string passages add a lush texture. This spring morning is not without shadows of its own, however. After brass and percussion join in for a brief resounding of the ensemble, the energy of the opening sinks into a murkier state. Boulanger masterfully employs color and texture to continue this seamless ebb and flow between two realms. One is bright and alert, with each restatement of the main theme in solo winds acting as a call to attention and restoring the faster tempo. The other is dreamlike, marked mystérieux, with ghostly violin and celesta heightening the effect. Eventually the initial energy returns in full in a series of flourishes, a final glissando on harp marking a brilliant close.
Jules Massenet: Elegie
Massenet and his wife, Constance de Saint-Maire] returned to Paris in 1866, and several of Massenet’s works were soon performed. They caused little stir. In 1873 he wrote some feeble incidental music for a play, but one number, “Invocation,” struck gold. Massenet changed its name to “Élégie,” added words, and arranged the song for cello and piano accompaniment. Sentimental Paris could not get enough of the sadly religious tune with its erotic overtones. He followed it with a religiously ecstatic oratorio, Marie-Magdeleine (1873). It, too, was a success. Massenet never had the public far from his heart and told the composer Vincent d’Indy, “I don’t believe in all that creeping Jesus stuff, but the public likes it and we must always agree with the public.”
Text to “Elgie”
Ô, doux printemps d’autre fois, vertes saisons,
Vous avez fui pour toujours!
Je ne vois plus le ciel bleu;
Je n’entends plus les chants joyeux des oiseaux!
En emportant mon bonheur, mon bonheur…
Ô bien-amé, tu t’en es allé!
Et c’est en vain que [le printemps revient!]1
Oui, sans retour,
avec toi, le gai soleil,
Les jours riants sont partis!
Comme en mon coeur tout est sombre et glacé!
Tout est flétri
pour toujours!
Translation to “Elegie”
O sweet springtimes of old verdant seasons
You have fled forever
I no longer see the blue sky
I no longer hear the bird’s joyful singing
And, taking my happiness with you
You have gone on your way my love!
In vain Spring returns
Yes, never to return
The bright sun has gone with you
The days of happiness have fled
How gloomy and cold is my heart
All is withered
Forever
Maurice Ravel: Adagio Assai
The Adagio assai is the slow second movement of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major. It’s known for its lyrical and melancholic melody, often described as having a dreamlike quality. The movement is predominantly for solo piano, with delicate orchestral accompaniment, creating a sense of intimacy and reflection. It contrasts with the more energetic first and third movements, showcasing Ravel’s versatility and mastery of different moods.
Maurice Ravel: Trio for Piano & Strings
Ravel has composed music that any audiophile can love, if only for its range of dynamics, from the extreme delicacy of the Pavane for a Dead Princess to the shattering climactic moments of Daphnis et Chloé. There are plenty of other reasons to admire his works, of course. Large and small, they exult in colorful exoticism and conjure austere images of ancient scenes. In the realm of chamber music, his String Quartet is among the few French works to be found in the regular repertory alongside the hallowed masterpieces of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms. In his later career he would compose a violin-and-piano Sonata and a Duo Sonata for violin and cello, but perhaps his most ambitious chamber work, the Piano Trio, dates from 1914, on the eve of the First World War. Following closely on the heels (or the toes?) of Daphnis, the Trio signals a new maturity for the composer. The somber opening movement incorporates elements of Ravel’s Basque heritage, perhaps even including remnants of a recently abandoned piano concerto on Basque themes.
As far as sonorities go, Ravel (certainly one of the acknowledged masters of orchestration) has a tendency, both here and in his later Violin Sonata, to dwell on what he described as the incompatibility of the piano’s percussive sound and the sustained tones of the string instruments. This juxtaposition is, in fact, an essential factor in what makes the music so alluring; the sense of competition is palpable, although there is a distant quality to the emotional tone. Fugal elements in the central section remind us of Ravel’s awareness of “antique” music and forms, as will the Passacaille that comes later. The second movement takes its title, Pantoum, from an Eastern poetic form found in the writings of Verlaine and Baudelaire; its tempo is brisk and exuberant, almost sprightly, and the complexities reveal Ravel’s technical brilliance. The slow third movement stretches out over a repeated eight-measure theme first heard in the lowest register of the piano. The processional quality is reinforced by the relentlessly increasing dynamic level, which eventually subsides, leading directly into the finale. Here Ravel unleashes his forces with vigor, demanding heroic sonorities that verge on the orchestral.
August 17
W.A. Mozart: “L’amero saró costante”
Il Re Pastore (The Shepherd King) is usually classified with Mozart’s operas, but contemporary documents refer to it as a serenata – an 18th century term for an unstaged or semi-staged cantata composed in honor of a patron or royal personage. In this case, the work was commissioned by the Archbishop of Salzburg, Hieronymous Colloredo, for a visit to Salzburg by the Archduke Maximilian Franz, youngest son of Empress Maria Theresa. The libretto, by the Italian dramatist Pietro Metastasio, was selected and edited by the court chaplain. Mozart, 19 at the time, spent six weeks working on the opera, and the performance was given in the Archbishop’s palace on April 23, 1775. Nothing more is known about that original performance, but serenatas, in general, were highly stylized works, consisting of a sequence of arias focusing on messages of love and duty. They included no ensemble pieces and little dramatic conflict. In his recent book Mozart and his Operas, David Cairns dismisses Il Re Pastore as “melodious music of great assurance and fluency, elegantly scored, but not what Mozart would have regarded as real opera.” The libretto deals with the frustrated love of Aminta, the rightful heir to Sidon but now living as a shepherd following the usurpation of the throne by the tyrant Stratone.
Before the opera begins, Alexander the Great has overthrown Stratone, and he now wants to restore Aminta, resolving any conflict by marrying him to Tamiri, Stratone’s daughter. The problem is that Aminta loves Elisa, a shepherdess, and Tamiri loves Agenore, a Sidonian aristocrat. Alexander reminds Aminta that royal duties take precedence over love. However, in the opera’s greatest aria, “L’amerò, sarò costante (I will love her and be faithful)”, Aminta declares his undying feelings for Elisa. A violin obligato adds elegance and eloquence to his song. At the time, Mozart was composing his five early violin concertos for his own performance, and it is likely that he played the violin part in Aminta’s aria as well. Aminta and Elisa plead their case with Alexander, and Alexander relents, approving their marriage. Aminta is crowned king of Sidon with Elisa as queen. Everyone praises Alexander for his wisdom, and Alexander decides that Agenore and Tamiri will rule over the next kingdom that he conquers.
Text to ““L’amero saró costante”
L’amerò, sarò costante:
Fido sposo, e fido amante
Sol per lei sospirerò.
In sì caro e dolce oggetto
La mia gioia, il mio diletto,
La mia pace io troverò.
Translation to “L’amero saró costante”
I shall love her,
I shall be constant:
Faithful spouse,
and faithful beloved,
Only for her shall I sigh.
Clara Schumann: Trio for piano and strings
Thanks to her constant touring, which almost always included performances of her own music, Clara was probably a better-known composer than Robert when they married. The Four Polonaises of her Op. 1 (not her actual first compositions) had been published when she was 11 years old, to be followed by numerous other solo piano pieces and her Concerto. After her marriage, Clara turned to larger forms, studying jointly with Robert through all of his enthusiasms. Their influences were mutual – composed in 1846, Clara’s Piano Trio in G minor, Op. 17, was a direct influence on Robert’s Piano Trio in D minor, Op. 63, written the following year. (Robert’s own G-minor Piano Trio would be composed in 1851.)
After Robert wrote his trios, Clara lost confidence in hers, but Brahms was one of many others who also played the work. Clara’s Trio begins softly, but with a robust main theme with the kind of bold profile that lends itself to points of imitation and motivic development. She recapitulates her secondary material in G major, before returning to G minor for a dramatic coda. The Scherzo is a rustic piece in the tempo of a minuet, filled with snap rhythms carried by the violin. The Trio, though, plays across-the-bar metrical games and has a very expansive, Beethovenian transition back to the main music. The Andante is a lovely instrumental song in G major, though not without its own offbeat tuggings and a fiercely contrasting middle section in E minor.
It is not hard to hear how Brahms would have admired the finale, an ostensibly relaxed Allegretto with gypsy coloring. Like the finale of Robert’s Quintet, it mixes sonata and rondo elements. Its main melody is subtly related to the main theme of the first movement and polyphonically pliable. Clara varies it in an extraordinary episode in A minor, and she references other material from the previous movements as well.
W.A. Mozart: Divertimento in E-flat major, opus 563, for violin, viola, & cello
After completing what turned out to be his last three symphonies in the summer of 1788, Mozart turned to writing chamber music. The most notable product of this redirection of his attentions was a six-movement work that was published as his Divertimento in E-flat, K. 563. Mozart had dabbled with its instrumentation –violin, viola, and cello – before, but the Divertimento is the only string trio Mozart either saw fit or managed to complete. Its first movement anticipates Beethoven somewhat, with a first theme that relies heavily on scale figures and arpeggios. But its second motive is pure Mozart: graceful, singing, and elegant; the perfect contrast to the opening materials.
In the Divertimento’s slow second movement, the music takes on the character of Mozart’s operatic vocal writing, highly lyrical and deeply expressive. Its harmonic language is also highly chromatic – anticipating Beethoven (again) and Schubert by thirty years or so. After the Adagio comes the first of the Divertimento’s two minuets. This one dispels any leftover gloom from the second movement: all is cheerful and sunny. Like Haydn, Mozart enjoyed toying with listener’s expectations in his minuets and this one is no exception, filled with rhythmic hiccups and unpredictable phrase lengths.
At the center of the Divertimento sits a warm, brilliant set of variations. The theme is presented by violin and viola in octaves and each of the four variations that follow allows for brilliant solo turns by each member of the ensemble. Of particular note is the brief, penultimate variation in the minor, filled with rich dissonances, imitative motivic gestures, and a seamless transition in the ecstatic final variation (back in the major mode). The second minuet is, like the first, folk-like in character, if a bit less complicated, rhythmically. For the finale, Mozart wrote a sonata-rondo movement that echoes the opening movement with, first, a triadic principal theme and, then, a lyrical, scalar melody. Both are developed in turn, boldly and idiomatically, while also showcasing each member of the ensemble.
Like much of Mozart’s late chamber music, the E-flat-major Divertimento is a forward-looking score. It foreshadows the balance between parts that would become standard (thank, largely, to Beethoven) in string chamber music just a few decades after it was written. It also, especially in its second movement, points towards the highly-personalized expressivity of the Romantics. In fact, its prophetic features weren’t lost on Beethoven: his own String Trio no. 1, op. 3, written six years later in 1794, follows the same basic formal patterns as Mozart’s Divertimento and even shares the same key. The Divertimento is dedicated to Mozart’s friend, Michael Puchberg, a fellow Freemason who is best known for having lent Mozart sums of money over the last years of his life. The composer participated in its 1789 premiere in Dresden, performing on his preferred instrument, the viola, alongside violinist Anton Teyber and cellist Antonin Kraft.