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Madison Symphony Orchestra Program Notes
March 11-12-13, 2022
96th Season
Michael Allsen
This program opens on a somber
note, with Rachmaninoff’s Isle
of the Dead. The orchestra has a showpiece in Kodály’s
colorful Háry János Suite.
This was
inspired by a series of tales told by the fictitional Háry
János, whose increasingly outrageous stories about himself are
clearly “fake news.” After
intermission, we welcome back the extraordinary violinist Gil
Shaham, who previously appeared with the Madison Symphony
Orchestra in 2018, performing the Tchaikovsky concerto. At these
programs, he is part of our season-long celebration of
Beethoven, playing Beethoven’s Violin Concerto.
Inspired by a painting
of a dead soul being rowed to the underworld, Rachmaninoff’s Isle of the Dead is a
dark and sober work, dominated by references to the funeral
chant Dies irae.
Sergei
Rachmaninoff
Born: April 1, 1873,
Oneg, Russia.
Died: March 28, 1943,
Hollywood, California.
Isle of the Dead
• Composed:
Early 1909.
• Premiere:
May 1, 1909 in Moscow, the composer conducting.
• Previous
MSO
Performance: 2006.
• Duration:
20:00.
Background
In 1905, Rachmaninoff left Russia, then in
the throes of the abortive 1905 Revolution, and spent most of
the next three years abroad. He spent much of his time in
Dresden, working diligently, but he also found time to travel,
taking in concerts and art galleries. One of the paintings
that particularly attracted him was an 1880 work by the Swiss
painter Arnold Böcklin, Isle
of the Dead. He saw a black and white photograph of the
work in Paris in 1907, and later saw the various originals in
galleries in Germany—Böcklin painted the subject at least five
times. Rachmaninoff later claimed to have much preferred the
black and white version, and to have had that one in mind when
writing his piece. Böcklin was one of the leading exponents of
the late 19th-century style known as Symbolism, concerned with
creating a mood, and symbols of deeper meaning, rather than
objective reality. His Isle
of the Dead shows the mythological Charon—boatman of the
underworld—rowing a coffin and single white-clad mourner to a
lonely island. Though Rachmaninoff was deeply struck by the
painting, it was apparently one of his friends from Dresden,
Nicholas von Struve, who suggested it as the basis of a
musical work. Rachmaninoff later dedicated the completed score
to him.
Böcklin, Isle of the Dead (in black
and white)
Unlike many
of his contemporaries, Rachmaninoff was never shy about
discussing extra-musical influences on his works, at one point
explaining that: “When composing, I find it of great help to
have in mind a book recently read, or a beautiful painting, or
a poem. Sometimes a definite story is kept in mind, which I
try to convert into tones without disclosing the source of my
inspiration.” Though he does not seem to have said explicitly
just what about Böcklin’s somber canvas made it so attractive,
it clearly took hold of him. In an interview about the piece,
he later said: “When it came up, how it began—how can I say?
It arose within me, was entertained, and written down.” Though
Rachmaninoff was hardly consumed by thoughts of death at this
point in his career, he was already writing to friends about
feeling old (at age 36!).
What
You’ll Hear
The piece begins with a slow introduction
set in an undulating and chromatic 5/8, that suggests the
rolling of a rather oily sea. The music is filled with hints
of the Dies irae
(“Day of Wrath”)—a 13th-century chant from the Latin Mass for
the Dead. Rachmaninoff used this tune as a touchstone in four
of his major works: it also appears in the Symphony No.2, the Symphonic Dances, and Rhapsody on a Theme of
Paganini. This opening section builds to almost
shattering intensity, and then subsides. A dour trombone
chorale brings the section to a close and there is a more
tranquil and lush central section in 3/4 carried by the
strings. Brasses again intrude, and bring this section to a
close, eventually stopping everything with a series of hammer
blows. The final section begins with the opening notes of the
Dies irae, played
over and over as an ostinato in the woodwinds. The chant tune
disappears during a series of short cadenzas, but then
reappears in brass chorale. The works ends quietly, in a mood
of resignation.
An
orchestral “sneeze,” a mechanical clock, the single-handed
defeat of Napoleon’s armies, and a richly deserved reward from
the emperor himself are all part of Kodály’s Háry János Suite. His title character
is a Hungarian storyteller who stars in his own increasingly
fantastic tales. The score has rich Hungarian flavoring, spiced
with folk music and a prominent role for Hungary’s national
instrument, the cimbalom.
Zoltán
Kodály
Born:
December 16, 1882 in Kecskemét, Hungary.
Died:
March 6, 1967 in Budapest, Hungary.
Suite
from the opera Háry
János
· Composed: Kodály
composed the opera Háry
János in 1926, and completed the Suite in 1927.
· Premiere: The opera
was first produced in Budapest on October 16, 1926, and the Suite was premiered in
New York City, on December 15, 1927.
· Previous MSO performance:
1994.
· Duration: 25:00
Background
The mythical Háry János (literally “John
Henry” and probably a version of the Hungarian folk character
“Strong John”) was a soldier and a habitual spinner of tall
tales, who first appeared in an early 19th-century novel by
Johann Garay. He is part of the grand tradition of great liars
that show up in the folklore and literature of many countries:
like Baron Munchhausen in Germany or Mike Fink in frontier
America. Kodály’s opera dramatizes a series of Háry’s
implausible whoppers, culminating in his singlehanded defeat of
Napoleon Bonaparte’s army. Kodály’s treatment of Háry is
humorous but sympathetic; Háry is not a simple liar, but a
romantic dreamer who believes his own farfetched imaginings.
Kodály orchestrated his Háry János Suite within
a few months of the opera’s premiere. Like most of Kodály’s
music, it channels the distinctive sound of Hungarian folk
music. As young men, Kodály and his close friend Béla Bartók
travelled through rural Hungary, collecting folk songs and dance
music with the aid of primitive sound recording equipment. Both
men absorbed this style into their own compositions. Part of the
distinctively Hungarian sound of Háry János is the
cimbalom, a Hungarian folk instrument (a large hammered
dulcimer).
What You’ll Hear
The Háry János Suite
presents six episodes from the opera. The first movement, Prelude: The Tale Begins,
opens with what can best be described as an orchestral
“sneeze”—according to Hungarian superstition, any statement made
following a sneeze can be regarded as the Gospel Truth! The
music for this movement has Háry sitting down before a group of
faithful listeners in his home town of Abony Magna, to begin the
story of how he once had to subdue Napoleon. After the opening
“sneeze,” the music moves gradually towards a high point, and
closes rather quietly as Háry whispers to bring his listeners
closer.
The second movement, Viennese Musical Clock,
describes the fabulous clock at the Imperial palace of
Schönbrunn. At this point in the story, Háry and his sweetheart
Orsze are in Vienna with Marie Louise, daughter of the Austrian
Emperor, and wife of Napoleon. In passing through Abony Magna,
Marie Louise had seen Háry and had—of course—fallen hopelessly
in love with him. Marie Louise begged him to accompany her to
Vienna, and Háry agreed—on condition that he could bring Orsze
along! The music for this movement is perfectly descriptive: a
clock in with marching mechanical soldiers and elaborate chimes
to mark the hour.
In the third movement, Song, Kodály has Háry
and Orsze pining away for their homeland, and singing a
sentimental song about the little cottage they will build when
they return. Here, Kodály uses a Hungarian folk tune, On this Side the Tisza,
Beyond is the Danube, as the main theme. This lovely theme
is sung by a series of solo instruments, beginning with the
cello. The cimbalom plays a prominent role in the more agitated
middle section of this movement.
Battle and Defeat of
Napoleon is the outrageous climax of Háry’s tale. Napoleon
has heard of his wife’s love for Háry, flies into a jealous
rage, and sends an invading army to Austria. Háry defeats wave
after wave of French soldiers, and eventually forces Napoleon to
fall to his knees and beg for mercy. The music is dominated by
brass and percussion, and includes a lugubrious duet for bass
trombone and tuba. Napoleon is personified by the solo
saxophone, and we hear him ordering his troops into battle, and
eventually pleading with Háry.
The Intermezzo reflects the
joyful mood after Háry’s amazing victory. The opening theme uses
the traditional Hungarian verbunkos,
a courtship dance. This section once again showcases the
cimbalom. Kodály also uses folk material in the lyrical middle
section of this movement: the solo horn introduces an 18th
century dance tune.
The final movement, Entrance of the Emperor and
his Court, brings his tale to a close. Here Háry describes
how the Austrian Emperor and his entire court come to pay their
respects and to thank him for turning back the French invasion.
This is set as an energetic march, as the courtiers and ladies
make their grand entrance. Finally, with a brass fanfare, the
Emperor himself enters to give Háry a richly-deserved reward.
Beethoven’s only
concerto for the violin, written in 1806 for a young virtuoso,
did not really become standard repertoire until decades after
his death. Unlike most violin concertos of the day, it takes a
symphonic approach, avoiding flashiness in favor of careful
development of themes, particularly in the broad opening
movement. It also features a beautifully expressive slow
movement, and a brilliant closing finale.
Ludwig van
Beethoven
Born: December 17,
1770 (baptism date), Bonn, Germany
Died: March 26, 1827,
Vienna, Austria
Concerto in D Major for Violin and Orchestra,
Op. 61
· Composed: 1806.
· Premiere: December
23, 1806, at the Theater-an-der-Wien in Vienna, with Franz
Clement as soloist.
· Previous
MSO Performances: 1928
(Gilbert Ross), 1937 (Marie Endres), 1945 (Roman Totenberg),
1951 (André de Ribaupierre), 1968 (Sidney Harth), 1980
(Ruggiero Ricci), 1988 (Sidney Harth), 1999 (Elmar Oliveira),
2008 (Cho-Liang Lin), and 2016 (Alina Ibragimova).
· Duration: 39:00.
Background
Beethoven
completed his only concerto for violin in 1806, during a burst
of creativity that also produced the three “Razumovsky”
quartets, the fourth symphony, the “Appassionata” sonata, and
the fourth piano concerto. The concerto was written for Franz
Clement, a violinist whose association with Beethoven went
back to 1794, when Clement was a 14-year-old Wunderkind. The title
page dedicates the work to Clement, while noting his
“clemency” towards the composer. (Beethoven’s puns were even
worse than the normal lot.) The concerto was premiered at a
concert that apparently included some pretty flamboyant
showmanship. According to a review of the concert in the Wiener Theater-Zeitung,
Clement inserted one of his own violin sonatas between the
first and second movements of the concerto—a sonata played on
one string, with the violin held upside-down! Perhaps because
of this blatant showstopper, reviews of the performance were
generally disdainful. The fact that Clement was reportedly
sight-reading the concerto may not have helped, either.
This
was not a work that caught on quickly, and it certainly did
not follow the fashion of the time. By 1806, audiences were
beginning to demand works that displayed astonishing feats of
speed and agility: flash over substance. Even as late as 1855,
when a young Joseph Joachim played Beethoven’s concerto for
the virtuoso Louis Spohr, Spohr’s reaction was: “This is all
very nice, but now I’d like you to play a real violin work.”
Beethoven’s concerto is more symphonic in style, focusing on
careful development of his broad and profound themes, and
brilliant orchestration, instead of empty virtuosity. The
concerto finally came into its own in the later 19th century,
as players like Joachim confronted the special challenges of
Beethoven’s work: thoughtfulness and musical expression.
What
You’ll Hear
The
first movement (Allegro
ma non troppo) begins in a striking fashion: five
unaccompanied timpani notes that usher in the woodwinds. The
orchestral introduction presents the themes that will provide
the raw material for the solo violin’s more extensive
treatment. At the close of the introduction, the orchestra
hushes and allows the opening violin line to burst forth—a
flourish that spans the entire range of the instrument. The
body of this movement is based on a set of beautiful hymn-like
themes. The violin’s expansion of these melodies is never
merely flashy decoration, but instead careful development. A
lengthy cadenza leads to a final statement of the second main
theme.
The Larghetto is
certainly one of the most intriguing and expressive of
Beethoven’s compositions. Its form has variously been
described as “theme and variations,” “semi-variations” and
even “strophic.” In a classic essay, Beethoven scholar Owen
Jander suggested that the deliberate ambiguities in the
overall theme and variations form of the Larghetto reflect a
burgeoning Romanticism—that the slow movement is a musical
rendering of a poetic dialogue. In fact, the movement proceeds
in a gentle but passionate dialogue between the soloist and
the orchestra, culminating in a dramatic cadenza that leads
directly into the final movement.
The
last movement is more typical of Classical style—a spirited
6/8 Rondo. Here, it seems, Beethoven made a slight bow to
audience demand and gave the violinist some flashy technical
passages. There is a brief minor-key episode at the center,
but otherwise the mood of this concerto is exuberant
throughout. The concerto closes with an extended coda that
gives the violinist one more chance to show off with some
soloistic fireworks.
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program notes ©2021 by J. Michael Allsen