Season 10 (2013-2014)

PROGRAM
Dorman Concerto Grosso

Mozart Violin Concerto*

Vivaldi Concerto in C for clarinets, oboes and strings, RV 560

Schubert Symphony No.3

CONDUCTOR

Avner Dorman

SOLOISTS
Rachel Barton Pine, violin

VENUES
Fairmount Presbyterian Church, Elyria First United Methodist Church, Lakewood Congregational Church, Shrine of St. Stanislaus Church, St. Noel Church

PROGRAM NOTES

The 2013–14 season is Avner Dorman’s first season as music director and it’s our tenth anniversary! Fans of the orchestra will know that one of the things that has always made CityMusic Cleveland so distinctive – apart from ‘free for all’ – is the many wonderful musicians coming together to create something that is larger than the sum of its parts.

With this in mind, Avner Dorman set out to program a season opening concert that would highlight musicians from the orchestra– in addition to our featured guest soloist, Rachel Barton Pine. There’s Dorman’s own Concerto Grosso with its solo group of string quartet and harpsichord, Vivaldi’s concerto to showcase four of our woodwind players, and Schubert, who gives solos to almost every instrument in his third symphony.

Mozart completes the program, but in an unusual way. Performing five concertos in five concerts over the course of a week is quite a challenge. But as Avner Dorman says, it represents something that is very typical of CityMusic: the flexibility and willingness to do things differently, to challenge the norm and to have fun doing it. He adds: “I can’t imagine any other orchestra doing this!”

Baroque inspiration…

DORMAN’S CONCERTO GROSSO

Avner Dorman has always loved baroque music. Even as a young child, he found it “very exciting and closer to the music of our day.” The clear rhythms, dominant bass lines and extreme contrasts meant that music written in the 18th century could appeal to a boy born in the 20th.

In 2002 he was approached by the conductor Aviv Ron to write a concerto for a concert series dedicated to baroque concertos. “He wanted a piece based on the music of Handel and Vivaldi,” says Dorman, “and I gladly accepted the challenge.”

The baroque inspiration is evident from the title, even before you hear a note of music. The “concerto grosso” was one of the most popular types of orchestral music in the baroque era and its distinguishing feature was the contrasting of a small group of soloists (the concertino) against the sound of the full orchestra (the ripieno). In Dorman’s concerto the concertino group is the solo string quartet and harpsichord. The rest of the strings provide the ripieno.

To meet Aviv Ron’s brief, Dorman chose a theme from Handel’s Concerto Grosso, Op.6 No.4, as the main motif, and Vivaldi’s signature virtuosic patterns provided the rhythmic drive. There’s a modern influence too: the hypnotic repetitions of composers such as Henryk Górecki, Arvo Pärt and Philip Glass.

Dorman’s Concerto Grosso is organised in three sections: slow – fast – slow. But there are no defined breaks between sections, instead the music moves fluidly from one character to another. Sometimes slower music is interrupted by outbursts of energy and the central fast section gives way at one point to a static exploration of sound.

A teenage genius at work…

MOZART’S FIVE VIOLIN CONCERTOS

In 1772, when Mozart was 16 years old, he went on salary as a concertmaster for the Prince-Archbishop in Salzburg. Between then and 1781, when he got himself literally booted out of the Archbishop’s employment, he’d composed his five violin concertos. The first concerto stands alone, probably composed in 1773; the remaining four in 1775. Among the earliest performers were Antonio Brunetti (who joined the Salzburg orchestra as a solo violinist in 1776) and Mozart himself. The concertos point to Mozart’s own taste as a performer. He was a virtuoso – Brunetti said “Mozart could play anything.” But his style wasn’t flashy. Once, when he’d performed the third concerto, he wrote that it had gone as “smoothly as oil,” and everyone had praised his “beautiful, pure tone.” And as a composer he put musical substance ahead of technical display.

The FIRST CONCERTO shows the influence of the Italian composers who’d cornered the violin concerto market, men such as Locatelli and Nardini. The first movement features conventional, Italianate passagework for the soloist, and a blithe, cheerful character. On the other hand, Mozart shows real seriousness of purpose: each of the three movements is in sonata form, allowing full development of his ideas and harmonies, and the slow (Adagio) movement is deeply expressive. And underneath the lively conversation between soloist and orchestra in the dancing finale Mozart hides some audacious musical gestures.

The SECOND CONCERTO places the solo part in sharp relief against the full orchestra. In that respect the concerto is quite old-fashioned – not so far from the music of Vivaldi. The slow movement (an easy-going Andante) reveals Mozart’s preference for an operatic singing style and intricate dialogue between soloist and the ensemble. The finale is a rondo – spelled ‘Rondeau’ in the French way and adopting a French dance, the minuet, as its graceful starting point. Each time the main rondo theme comes back, Mozart changes the orchestration: the accompaniment is played by the strings, then the oboes and finally the horns.

Mozart’s operatic instincts show up again in the THIRD CONCERTO: the beginning was borrowed almost note for note from his opera, Il re pastore (The Shepherd King). In fact, it’s possible to hear the whole concerto as an opera for the violin. The music is full of vivid characterizations and in the third movement you can hear various changes of ‘scene’ or ‘costume.’ But there’s a surprise: Mozart breaks off with three big chords for a stately gavotte, then he interrupts himself again, this time with a lusty peasant dance, the ‘Strassburger’ tune. The finale is great fun, but the most beautiful music is in the slow Adagio, the only movement where the flutes play. Here – high above a gentle accompaniment of muted violins and violas with plucked cellos and basses – the soloist spins one of Mozart’s gorgeous melodies.

The FOURTH CONCERTO is in D major, a bright-sounding key associated with trumpets and drums. Neither of those instruments appear, but Mozart creates assertive fanfares with horns and oboes instead. The music is a far cry from the first concerto of two years before: far more adventurous and imaginative. In the first movement Mozart exploits the possibilities of the violin’s range, from very high notes to the supple sound of its low register. The slow movement adopts a serious, contemplative tone – it’s marked Andante cantabile, calling for an easy tempo and, especially, a singing character. Then there is the trademark Rondeau, this time alternating between gentle, graceful music and a more lively capricious mood.

The FIFTH CONCERTO is the most daring and mature. It begins with the orchestra setting out the vigorous main theme. Then the soloist enters –but with slow music! The tempo picks up again, but now the soloist introduces a new theme, with the original theme cunningly hidden in the accompaniment. It’s the work of a 19-year-old genius at play. The Adagio floats its rapturous lines over the orchestra in a long and elaborate movement. The ‘Turkish’ nickname comes from the finale: in the middle of the movement Mozart raises the stakes, interrupting the music with raucous Turkish percussion effects (the cellos and basses hit their strings with the wood of their bows). As always, Mozart knew how to make his audiences smile.

Early adopter…

VIVALDI’S ‘CONCERTO GROSSO’

Antonio Vivaldi is probably the most prolific composer on this program (although Schubert, with his hundreds of songs, gives him a run for his money).

In the concerto genre alone, Vivaldi composed more than 350 concertos for solo instruments and hundreds of other concertos for groups of soloists –concerti grossi, in other words. Many of these, especially the concertos for unusual combinations of instruments, would have been composed for the students at the Ospedale della Pietà, a Venetian orphanage for girls that provided musical training to the highest level.

Imagine then, four talented girls, two playing oboe and two playing the new-fangled clarinet, an instrument that was pretty much unknown before 1710.

Vivaldi has given them music that emphasizes the contrasting colors of the two pairs: on one hand the edgy sound of the oboes, on the other the mellow sound of the clarinets. The concerto begins with a majestic introduction before launching into the main, fast section of the first movement (Allegro). And so the conversation begins: pairs of chirping oboes, pairs of burbling clarinets, and the full ensemble having its say as well.

Perhaps, as early adopters, the Venetian clarinetists were still mastering their instruments – that might explain why Vivaldi gives them a break in the Largo movement (‘slow’) and has just the oboes and strings play in this plaintive music.

The finale begins with a simple and emphatic idea that keeps recurring throughout. It turns out to be a perfect backdrop for showing off the virtuosity of the four soloists.

Sparkling hedonism…

SCHUBERT’S THIRD SYMPHONY

Schubert wrote his first symphony in 1812 as a 15-year-old student; he completed the next two in 1815 from the other end of the classroom. He didn’t enjoy teaching and his salary as the sixth assistant in the bottom form of his father’s school was very small. But somewhere in between correcting his pupil’s exercises he found time and energy to compose nearly every day. In 1815 alone he wrote a huge amount of music: four theatre pieces, choral music for church and concert hall, piano music, a string quartet, two symphonies and more than 150 songs!

This is a young man’s symphony. After the solemn introduction (Adagio maestoso, ‘slow and majestic’), Schubert establishes an atmosphere of fun and gaiety (Allegro con brio, ‘fast with spirit’). The presence of trumpets and drums add a dash of martial splendor. The first main theme is given to the clarinet, the second to the oboe, and the ideas of the first movement are developed with dialogues between woodwinds and strings.

For his second movement, Schubert began by writing very slow and serious music, but this was abandoned before he’d even completed the first page – even the greatest composers have second thoughts. In the end he completed the Allegretto (‘fairly fast’) with its gentle and graceful character, lightly dancing themes and delicate use of the orchestra.

By complete contrast, the Menuetto (marked Vivace or ‘lively’) is earthy and vigorous – playfully evoking the spirit of the Ländler, an Austrian peasant dance. Schubert brings the full orchestra in together with a heavy upbeat (imagine hobnailed boots stamping in the village square) and a simple, pithy theme. A quiet violin moment links the two halves of the theme, and the graceful contrasting Trio section in the middle hints at the Ländler’s evolution: towards the ballroom and the waltz.

For the finale (Presto vivace, ‘as fast as possible, and lively’), Schubert continues the dance-like mood with a breathless tarantella, the dance traditionally thought to cure the bite of the tarantula. (Do not try this at home.) There’s just one main theme to drive the music forward, with dramatic crashes of sound form the full orchestra and a mercurial whirlwind of harmonic changes. The whole thing moves with kaleidoscopic quickness.

This is the shortest of Schubert’s first three symphonies. Its conciseness points to classical restraint and technical maturity, but its lighter weight and sparkling detail points to the pure joy of music. As one writer has suggested, ‘‘genius doesn’t need to reveal itself by plumbing the depths or storming the heights.’’

Yvonne Frindle © 2013

(Adapted in part from a program note by Avner Dorman)

PROGRAM
Johann Strauss II Overture to Die Fledermaus (The Bat), On the Beautiful Blue Danube – Waltz, Laughing Song (“My dear Marquis”) from Die Fledermaus, Adele’s Aria (“Spiel ich die Unschuld vom Lande”) from Die Fledermaus Tritsch Tratsch Polka, Aria for Soprano “O habet Acht” from The Gypsy Baron

Johann Nepomuk Hummel Trumpet Concerto

Josef Strauss Aus der Ferne (From Afar) – Polka-Mazurka

Franz Lehar Vilja Song from The Merry Widow

Johann Strauss I Radetzky March

CONDUCTOR

Stefan Willich

SOLOISTS
Stacey Mastrian, soprano

Jack Sutte, trumpet

VENUES
Shrine of St. Stanislaus, Lakewood Congregational Church, St. Mary Parish, Fairmount Presbyterian Church, St. Noel Church

PROGRAM NOTES

The latest technology…

HUMMEL’S TRUMPET CONCERTO

When it came to new technology, Franz Joseph Haydn was the early adopter. In 1796 the trumpeter and inventor Anton Weidinger showed him a brand new trumpet with keys – a trumpet that could play melodies in its rich-sounding lower registers – and Haydn promptly responded with a concerto.

But the trumpet was a beta model, and it was four years before the music could be premiered to the satisfaction of composer and soloist. Even after that Weidinger added more keys to the instrument, to improve it further.

Then along came Hummel, a young man in his early 20s. Hummel had been a student of Mozart and by 1803 was a celebrated pianist in Vienna – a competitor of the newly arrived Beethoven in a city where audiences liked to take sides. (They in fact became good friends.) Haydn recognized that Hummel was taking the Classical legacy of Mozart in a fresh direction and arranged for him to become his own successor as Kapellmeister to the Esterházy family. One of the first works Hummel composed in his new job was a trumpet concerto for Weidinger and his keyed trumpet, version 1.1.

At every turn, Hummel takes advantage of the virtuoso possibilities of the trumpet. Where an earlier composer like Bach or Handel would have had to take the trumpet into the top of its range in order to play melodies, Hummel was able to emphasize the newly enabled lyrical character of the instrument’s bottom and middle registers. Trills seem to have been a specialty of Weidinger’s – the concerto is full of them, even in the slow movement (Andante) – and the lively finale features a technique called double-tonguing, which allows the player to achieve a rapid-fire effect of fast, articulated notes.

The modern trumpet uses valves instead of keys – think of it as version 2, if you like – but, together with Haydn’s, Hummel’s concerto remains a brilliant showpiece and a firm favorite in the trumpet repertoire.

In Vienna with the Waltz Kings…

SONGS AND DANCES BY LEHÁR AND THE STRAUSSES

Vienna. The city of the schnitzel, the pastry, and the coffee house. The city of Freud, Klimt, and Wittgenstein. The city where elaborate palaces rub shoulders with cosy Biedermeier architecture and Adolf Loos’ “house without eyebrows.” The city of Mozart and Beethoven – Hummel too. And, above all, the city of the Waltz.

The creation of the Viennese waltz is attributed to Josef Lanner, born in 1801. As a 12-year-old he joined Vienna’s leading dance orchestra, at 17 he formed his own ensemble, recruiting the 14-year-old Johann Strauss I. These underage musicians were destined to revolutionize dance halls everywhere.

The Strauss dynasty emerged in the right place at the right time. When he came of age, Strauss senior formed his own orchestra and the waltz came of age with him. His sons Johann, Josef and Eduard carried the waltz craze to new heights. The undisputed Waltz King was Johann Strauss II, and our most beloved waltzes and polkas came from his pen.

In 19th-century Vienna, Strauss and his waltzes “obscured everything else.” Chopin noticed that “the Viennese have time for nothing but their waltzes.” Berlioz spent whole nights watching the youth of Vienna giving free rein to its passion for dancing.

When they weren’t dancing, the Viennese flocked to the theatres where they could hear the latest operettas. Often there was little to distinguish between the two genres: many of Strauss junior’s operettas were based on his ballroom music, and some of his waltzes featured singing.

The Gypsy Baron (1885) was one of Strauss’s more sophisticated efforts, drawing together the best of opera and operetta in a clever mix of Hungarian and Viennese styles. In the Gypsy Song (‘O watch out!’), Saffi first warns us never to trust the gypsy (Man, watch your horse! Woman, watch your child!), then reminds us the gypsy is faithful and true to friends (Man, trust him with your horse! Woman, trust him with your child!).

The most popular of Strauss’s operettas was, and is, Die Fledermaus (The Bat), premiered in 1874. It was composed in just 43 days to a complicated but hilarious libretto filled with practical jokes, an eight-day jail sentence for abusive language to a policemen, revenge, minor infidelities, borrowed clothes and mistaken identities. Could a ‘lady’ as graceful and refined as Adele possibly be a maidservant? It’s enough to make one laugh! For, of course, she is an accomplished actress and her audition (My dear Marquis) is impeccable… In the next act she plays the innocent peasant maid (Spiel ich die Unschuld vom Lande). The effervescent overture, with which we begin the concert, is a pot-pourri of all the main tunes – the most important is the glorious waltz from the finale of Act II.

The tradition of Viennese operetta was ailing when Franz Lehár inherited it from Strauss at the turn of the century. But his most successful creation, The Merry Widow (1905), revived the genre’s fortunes. The operetta also sparked a craze for all things ‘Merry Widow’ – Merry Widow hats in particular flooded the stores – and the famous Vilja aria took on a life of its own.

According to tradition, the Vienna Men’s Choral Association held a rollicking ‘Fools Evening’ during Carnival each year. But in February 1867, the mood was subdued: Austria had been defeated by the Prussian forces just months before. In the same way that American concert presenters adjusted their programming in the weeks and months following September 11, the Association decided to replace Fools Evening with a more sedate song program. Strauss junior was invited to provide a choral waltz – his first.

The original words of the waltz had nothing to do with the poetic title, An der schönen blauen Donau (On the Beautiful Blue Danube). Written by the Association’s house poet, they were a silly satire about the new electric arc lights in Vienna. The choir nearly revolted and the waltz was practically a failure – only one encore instead of the usual three! Strauss quickly dropped the words, and in no time it was sweeping the world as an orchestral waltz with premieres in Paris, London and New York. Strauss’s publisher made a fortune, selling a million copies; Strauss received 150 guilders.

The Viennese waltz is a demanding dance for musicians and dancers alike; the Blue Danube, for example, lasts ten minutes. In the ballroom, waltzes are interspersed with short polkas and marches, equally welcome to those couples with too much energy and those wanting to catch their breath! In our concert we’ve included two polkas, both composed for tours in Russia. Strauss junior’s Tritsch-Tratsch Polka takes its name from a satirical Viennese newspaper (literally ‘chit chat’ or gossip). His older brother Josef provides a polka-mazurka with a melancholy flavor, From Afar, a long-distance greeting to his wife back home in Vienna.

Any Viennese concert worthy of the name has to finish with the Radetzky March by the man who started it all, Johann Strauss I. This rousing march has become a fixture of Viennese New Year’s Eve concerts – feel free to follow tradition and clap along!

New Year’s Concerts in Vienna: a musical tradition

The orchestra we know as the Vienna Philharmonic has been performing the music of the Johann Strauss II and his family since the 1870s. But it wasn’t until 1939 that the famous New Year’s Concerts were founded. On the morning of 31 December, in the Musikverein, Clemens Krauss conducted the Vienna Philharmonic in its first Special Strauss Concert. The next concert was in fact presented on 1 January 1941, rather than New Year’s Eve, but again Clemens Krauss conducted a program of music by the Strausses, as he was to do for the next several years. The event was cancelled in 1943 as World War II drew to an end, but returned in 1946. In 1953 a concert on New Year’s Eve was added, but even with two concerts on offer, the demand still far exceeded the available tickets

After the death of Krauss in 1954, Willy Boskovsky, the first concertmaster of the orchestra, took over the direction, continuing until 1979. Boskovsky was the perfect choice: he’d begun his career playing in Vienna’s Johann Strauss Orchestra, absorbing the niceties of style and rhythm so essential to the performance of this music. In 1959, the New Year’s Concerts were televised and the event became even more spectacular – including dance episodes by the Viennese State Opera Ballet. More important, the concerts captured the hearts of an international audience, and attracted imitators all over the world. Since then the Viennese New Year’s Concerts have grown in opulence and prestige, and the fabled scramble for tickets has become a hotly contested international lottery!

Yvonne Frindle © 2013

PROGRAM

Ung Khse Buon for cello solo

Visconti “Roots to Branches” World Premiere

Beethoven Symphony No. 3 “Eroica”

CONDUCTOR

James Feddeck

SOLOISTS
Shane Shanahan, percussion

James Jaffe, cello

Ali Alhaddad, narrator

VENUES

Shrine of St. Stanislaus, Trinity Lutheran Church, Lakewood Congregational Church, St. Noel Church, Fairmount Presbyterian Church, Noble Elementary School, Children’s Museum of Cleveland

PROGRAM NOTES

KHSE BUON FOR SOLO CELLO

Until he won the 1989 Grawemeyer Award, widely considered composition’s most prestigious prize, Chinary Ung was virtually unknown. Born in 1942, Ung came to the United States in 1964 on an Asia Foundation scholarship to study clarinet at the Manhattan School of Music. His family was musical, and often played traditional Cambodian instruments together at home, but his first exposure to Western music did not come until he was in high school. An Asia Foundation scholarship allowed him to study in the US on the condition that he return to Cambodia upon completion of his degree. Ung’s interest in composition grew and he formed a relationship with Columbia University’s Chinese-American professor of composition, Chou Wen-Chung, but it seemed that he would have no choice but to return to Cambodia, where the Khmer Rouge was already beginning to consolidate its power.

He happened, however, to find himself in an elevator with a former official of the Asia Foundation, and this person was able to help Ung obtain a scholarship to Columbia. Ung returned to Cambodia briefly and then came back to complete his doctorate (with distinction) at Columbia. Ung says, “If I did not take that elevator at exactly the perfect time, I would have been sent back to Cambodia…Life is so delicate. It is so scary when you look back at that.”

As an intellectual, Chinary Ung would certainly have been a target of the Khmer Rouge, whose particular brand of socialism sought to make Cambodia into a purely agrarian society free of “capitalists” – namely, all professionals and nearly everyone with an education. Approximately two million city-dwellers were taken to the countryside and forced to perform agricultural work, told what to wear and with whom to speak, and controlled in every way. Children were taken from parents and taught communism and torture methods; as part of their indoctrination, children were given roles in the torture and execution of “capitalists.”

Eventually the Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge arrested, tortured and executed anyone with ties to the old government, anyone from an ethnic or religious minority, and all professionals and intellectuals. In an absurd example of the regime’s bloodthirsty lunacy, some people were labelled “intellectuals” simply because they wore glasses. Between one and two million people – about 20 per cent of the population – perished in the Cambodian genocide. About half of them died in the horrifying Killing Fields, where prisoners were executed with pick axes to save bullets and then buried in mass graves. Among the victims were Chinary Ung’s three brothers and a sister, as well as several nieces and nephews.

Deeply shaken by the events unfolding in his homeland, Ung stopped composing and began doing everything in his power to save his remaining relatives, and to save Cambodian music. He spearheaded recording projects, tours and other performances, and founded the Khmer Studies Institute. During this time, from 1974 to 1985, he composed only one piece: Khse Buon for solo cello, heard in this concert. It was his first attempt to combine the traditional music of his homeland with the Western classical music and 20th-century compositional techniques he had studied in the U.S.

Rebecca Schweigert Mayhew © 2014

ROOTS TO BRANCHES

“I have lost my roots but gained many branches; my family tree flowers once again with the promise of opportunity, and in my turn my greatest hope is to give back to this great country that has given my family a new chance to blossom.”

–Bhutanese refugee

Cleveland was built on the stories of immigrants, and today’s diverse refugee populations likewise tell tales of escaping persecution, incredible journeys through the unknown, and exhilaration at the promise of freedom. In working with CityMusic Cleveland and Grammy-winning percussionist Shane Shanahan on a new work that would weave together the stories of the many refugees who have made the long journey to settle in Cleveland, I was inspired by those who fled great hardship and oppression for the promise of a new life in the U.S.

In turns hair-raising, offbeat, and joyous, Roots to Branches features percussion instruments from around the globe, gives expressive voice to these refugees’ experiences, and paints a portrait of a population that is already giving back to the community that offered them the chance of a better life.

Rather than devoting individual movements of the concerto to any one culture or refugee, I made the decision to organize the concerto’s narrative in light of the many common points of reference that all the refugees interviewed for this project seemed to experience: fleeing persecution, the perilous journey to an unfamiliar land, and finally the challenges and exhilaration of taking root in a new and more hopeful community – a universal journey, which constantly blends influences from the many refugee subcultures in the Cleveland area.

The concerto’s prologue features a plaintive solo on the bansuri (Indian natural flute) against a halo of sound created by glasses of water tuned to various pitches, as well as ankle bells and the tambourine-like instruments known as the riq. The first movement (with only sorrow) features low drums of African origin (the djembe and its close cousin, the doumbek) against an unfolding backdrop of string counterpoint and tells the tale of the harsh conditions most refugees faced in their homelands. The second movement (a place beyond time) refers to conditions in the refugee camps that represent a kind of limbo or purgatory where many refugees are left to linger and wither away, and features melodic passages for the bell-like Miltone.

The third movement (spirit our souls across) is about the sometimes perilous journey across the ocean to America, and fittingly features assorted water percussion as well as the other-wordly of the kalimba, or thumb-piano. The fourth movement (black days) is about the challenges of fitting into a newfound life in America, where both hardship and hope run high and raucous music for homemade instruments keeps spirits high (featuring frame drums, the Iranian daf, and even all manner of body percussion); finally, the 5th movement (now my voice is heard) is about the catharsis that many refugees describe when finally integrating with their new environment, and the joy of seeing new branches of their family tree be born and come to thrive in a country that they now call their own, and seek to contribute to with pride and purpose. A meditative section for another natural flute (this time of Chinese origin) and resonant temple bowls brings the rhythmic work to a serene conclusion.

This project would not have been possible without support from the Refugee Services Collaborative and the travelling multimedia exhibit Voices Worth Hearing, Art Worth Sharing, and most of all from the stories, songs, poetry, and interviews provided by the many refugees who shared their unique tales with me for this project. Thanks also to CityMusic executive director Eugenia Strauss for her vision and commitment in bringing this work to life, and to Rebecca Schweigert Mayhew for her generous assistance in collecting the many quotes and stories that make up the concerto’s narration.

Dan Visconti © 2014

BEETHOVEN’S EROICA SYMPHONY

On the surface, Beethoven was an unlikely hero – unattractive, quarrelsome and uncompromising – but his patrons among the Viennese aristocracy recognized his musical genius. They encouraged him to disregard conservative criticism and to write music that was bold and audacious – ambitious works shaped by powerful dramatic forces and echoing the fundamental qualities of heroism: conflict and strength. Music like the Eroica Symphony.

The Eroica was revolutionary. For audiences in 1805 it was twice as long as any symphony by Mozart, monumental in scope and rich in ideas. It was also the first of Beethoven’s symphonies to carry a title, ‘Sinfonia eroica’.

The inspiration was Napoleon’s expedition to Egypt, and at first Beethoven saw in the First Consul of the Republic an apostle of new ideas and perhaps a little of his own uncompromising will. But when Beethoven heard that Napoleon had crowned himself Emperor, the dedication was scratched out and replaced by Heroic Symphony, composed to celebrate the memory of a great man.’

With this gesture the conflicts of the symphony became idealized; the Funeral March, supposedly prompted by the rumor of Nelson’s death in the Battle of Aboukir, grew in significance, ‘too big to lead to the tomb of a single man.’ The hero is not Napoleon – he had shown himself to be ‘nothing but an ordinary man’ – or any other individual.

In one sense the Eroica’s battles are entirely musical and music is the hero. When asked what the Eroica meant, Beethoven went to the piano and played the first eight notes of the symphony’s main theme. This simple but powerful idea – outlining the main chord of the symphony – is developed into a vast but detailed opening movement (marked Allegro con brio ‘fast with life’). The second movement, a funeral march (Adagio assai ‘very slow’), draws on the rhetoric of revolutionary music and spoke powerfully to the first audiences.

Following this expression of intense grief, the third movement (Allegro vivace ‘fast and lively’) is blessedly playful and humorous, a Scherzo by name as well as by nature.

The Finale (Allegro molto ‘very fast’) is based on a theme from Beethoven’s ballet The Creatures of Prometheus (1801) and the connection with another (mythological) hero cannot be accidental. The theme is simple and impulsive, but in this final version Beethoven transforms it into a hymn to the generous sentiments of the Revolution: freedom and equality.

Beethoven lived in an age that celebrated the individual, innovation and sublime expression. This, together with his astonishing musical vision and the tragic affliction of his deafness, conspired to make him the supreme Romantic hero. In a tormented and troubled world, Beethoven gives us music that springs from conflict, in which disorder resolves into order. He wrestles with Fate and triumphs; he believes in Freedom. ‘Beethoven is, above all things, the poet of heroism.’ And from that perspective, who can the unnamed hero of the Eroica be but the composer himself?

Yvonne Frindle © 2014

PROGRAM
Schubert Mass No. 6 in E-Flat Major

CONDUCTOR

Avner Dorman

SOLOISTS
Stacey Mastrian, soprano

Sarah Beaty, mezzo-soprano

Joshua Blue, tenor

Seth Nachimson, tenor

Joseph Trumbo, bass

CHORUS

Quire Cleveland

VENUES
Shrine of St. Stanislaus, Lakewood Congregational Church, St. Mary Parish, St. Noel Church

SPONSORS

The Cleveland Foundation, The George Gund Foundation, The Corinne L. Dodero Foundation for the Arts & Sciences, and Community Shares of Greater Cleveland.

PROGRAM NOTES

SCHUBERT’S FINAL MASS

Church music played a large part in Schubert’s life – as a choirboy, as a string player in local churches, and at a school where many pupils went on to become organists and choirmasters. Several of Schubert’s schoolmates became professional church musicians and he aspired to as well. His Masses span his short career, beginning in 1814, and the last two were affected by his desire for an appointment as a court church composer. This never eventuated, but to understand the form taken by Schubert’s sixth and last setting of the Mass, it is necessary to know something about his fifth. Unusually for such a fluent composer, it took him three years, on and off, to write. But the First Kapellmeister at court, Josef Eybler, received it with the comment that it was not composed in the style the Emperor liked. The Fifth Mass was unconventional, omitting fugues where tradition prescribed them. Schubert’s application in 1826 for the second post was unsuccessful

Schubert’s Sixth Mass was composed in the last year of his life, in June and July of 1828, just after the visionary C major String Quintet. In some respects it is conservative in approach (though the anticlerical Schubert – as in his other Masses – omits the statement of belief in “one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church,” and in this Mass also the words “Jesu Christe” in the Quoniam). There are fugues in all the expected places, at considerable length, a reminder that earlier in the year Schubert had gone to Simon Sechter (later Bruckner’s teacher) for lessons in counterpoint.

Yet Schubert’s ambition for a church appointment may not completely explain this Mass’s special features. By contrast with its predecessor, it is a predominantly choral mass, and when soloists do eventually get their opportunity, at “Et incarnatus est” in the Creed, there are unusually, two solo tenor parts, soon joined by a soprano. This suggests the Mass may have been tailored to the resources of the church for which it is believed to have been intended: Holy Trinity in Vienna’s Alsergrund district, where one of Schubert’s schoolmates was now organist and choirmaster. It was in this church, in 1827, that Beethoven’s corpse was blessed before the procession to the cemetery, with Schubert among the torchbearers.

This Mass is worthy to join those late Schubert works he composed with a sense of mission as Beethoven’s successor. As in his instrumental music, he had found a new way of combining a vast scale of conception with his matchless gifts of lyrical invention. Restful calm and breadth are the keynotes. The music rises to the heights, especially where the text chimes with Schubert’s convictions.

Standing out even from the sublimity aimed at by many passages in this Mass is the bold setting, in the Gloria, of the prayer beginning “Domine Deus…” (Lord, have mercy upon us). The trombones add a Gregorian chant-like intonation to what Schubert authority Alfred Einstein regards as “one of the boldest and at the same time most genuinely spiritual movements ever written for a Mass.” Equally striking is the opening of the Agnus Dei, a musical idea strongly recalling Schubert’s setting, that same year, of Heine’s poem The Ghostly Double (Doppelgänger).

Alone of Schubert’s Masses, he was never to hear this one performed. It was first sung – in Holy Trinity Church according to his wishes – on October 4, 1829, nearly a year after its composer died. The music was not published until 1865.

David Garrett © 2014