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Program Notes for:  Spring Opera Production | March 6, 2004 | Fall Concert 2003

Henry Purcell (1659-1695)    Dido and Aeneas

For about two centuries, Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas was the lone living connection to the culturally rich world of 17th century opera.  Whereas other operas faded from performer's repertories, Dido and Aeneas was more or less a constant presence.  Even Claudio Monteverdi's groundbreaking Orfeo was largely left to be rediscovered by the academic musicological movements of the late 19th and 20th centuries.

The enduring popularity of Purcell’s opera can be explained in part by its restraint.  Dido and Aeneas is not a difficult opera to perform, yet when performed well, it is as musically and dramatically effective as any opera in the repertory.  It is not a virtuoso opera in the traditional sense: the music does not showcase the musician’s abilities, rather, the musician's abilities, when properly channeled, showcase the music and drama. Purcell offers a subtlety of expression which draws the audience into the operatic experience with striking sophistication.

This mediated virtuosity is the result of the circumstances of its composition and premiere.  Purcell composed Dido and Aeneas for Josias Priest's Boarding School at Chelsea in 1689.  Although limited by the resources available through this girls' school, Purcell and his librettist, Nahum Tate, managed to create an opera which has managed to endure undiminished, yet is grounded in the styles, conceits, and events of its time.  The libretto freely combines the narrative from Book IV of Virgil's Aeneid with elements from contemporary 17th century drama and literature, such as sorcerers and witches.  The first printed edition of the libretto contains a Prologue for which no music survives.  Franklin Zimmerman notes that the text of this prologue, along with some of Tate's adaptations, supports a reading the opera as an allegory celebrating aspects of the 1688 Glorious Restoration (Henry Purcell, 1659-1695.  2nd ed.  Philadephia: University of Pennsylvania, 1983).  The music similarly incorporates contemporary stylistic trends.  Purcell freely mixes the overtures, dances, and airs of the French style with the more song-like English style.  A number of contemporary operas appear to have offered musical models, most notably John Blow's Venus and Adonis, which, like Dido and Aeneas, has no spoken recitatives.  From a modern perspective, Dido and Aeneas is a conflation of two pasts--the mythological past of pre-Roman antiquity and the historical past of 17th century England-- which interact freely in musical performance.

In spite of these ties to specific historical times, Dido and Aeneas continues to maintain a fresh sense of timelessness whenever it is presented.  This freshness stems in part from its dramaturgical themes-- love, fate, and circumstances--and the tragic inability to mediate these three.  More than these themes themselves, however, it is Purcell's subtle musical treatment of these themes which is so captivating. Throughout the opera, Purcell's undeniable melodic and harmonic gifts are augmented by a sophisticated dramatic sensibility, which adds a poignant and sophisticated element of unpredictability to the music.  This unpredictability emerges in the form of surprising chromatic gestures, irregular phrase structures, and an ability to transform typical musical gestures, such as repetitions and returns, into dramatically functional devices.  These modifications are not the broad gestures of Romantic opera; they are instead a subtle yet omnipresent and captivating presence which allows the audience to engage and be engaged by the action.  The result is a world of sound that effectively highlights and comments on the drama while remaining aesthetically pleasing in itself.

March 6, 2004 featuring Jennifer Kim (violin)- by Peter Mondelli

12 Contredanses for Orchestra, WoO 14, Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

The genre of the contredanse came to prominence in France in the late 17th century. Its origins lie in the English country dance – thus the French name is best understood neither as a literal “counter-dance” nor as a translation of the English title, but rather as a modified transliteration of the original title. In the 18th century, the contredanse became the most popular of French dances.

Beethoven composed his Twelve Contredances between 1791 and 1802. By this time, the popularity of the genre was waning. When compared to the more canonic Beethoven “masterpieces” – such as the symphonies, sonatas, concertos, etc. – these country dances may at first seem like something of an anomaly. Beethoven did, however, have something of a populist side which most commentators either ignore or attempt to explain away. Examples of what Nicholas Cook designates as the “other Beethoven” (19th Century Music, Summer 2003) include Wellingtons Sieg and numerous collections of folksong arrangements. But is there a way of combining these “two Beethovens” into one coherent whole?

The Contredanses offer a critical insight in this regard. The melody of the seventh dance is the melody at the heart of the finale of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony of 1803. The genesis from the former to the latter, however, is tellingly more complex. In 1802, Beethoven composed two other works which developed the same theme: the ballet Prometheus and the Eroica Variations for solo piano. One way of making sense of this thematically centered nexus of compositions is to consider them transfiguration of a country dance. The contredanse evolves into ballet – an “elevated,” artistic dance – which subsequently becomes “pure” music which is developed both systematically in the Variations and freely in the Symphony. One could even assert that the presence of a French dance at the heart of the symphony is directly connected to the Eroica’s original dedication to Napoleon Bonaparte in celebration of the emerging French republic.

This transformation of the commonplace is a recurring theme in Beethoven’s oeuvre. His opera Fidelio depicts the elevation of a domestic gesture, namely marital dedication, into a heroic act. The Diabelli Variations make a similar presentation in more abstract terms, exploring the full musical implications of a simple tune. These Contredanses are not curiosities standing in the midst of masterpieces; they are masterpieces that were never fully worked out – the kernels of unwritten variations, ballets, and symphonies.

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   Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor, op. 26,  Max Bruch (1838-1920)

Although some of its musical ideas date from as early as 1857, the majority of Max Bruch’s first Violin Concerto was composed in 1865-6. Bruch’s early musical training and lifelong dedication on the genres of “absolute” music placed him closer to the traditional compositional ideologies of Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms than to the more progressive music of Franz Liszt, Richard Wagner, and the New German School. Brahms, Clara Schumann, and Joseph Joachim admired Bruch’s music. Joachim, perhaps the first modern academic violinist, proved an invaluable resource during Bruch’s revisions of the score. Just as he later helped Brahms with the violin writing of his concerto, Joachim offered Bruch advice grounded in his unparalleled knowledge of his instrument’s technique. The revisions were completed in 1868 – it is this version which has entered the repertory of generations of violinists.

Prelude: Allegro moderato
Adagio
Finale: Allegro energico

While revising the score with Joachim, Bruch faced a dilemma of classification. He was unsure whether the work should be called a concerto. The first movement was originally titled Introduzione – Fantasia; Bruch toyed with the idea of rechristening the entire concerto as a fantasia. His reason for doing so may have been related to the unusual form of the opening movement. Bruch dispenses with the traditional double exposition sonata form, replacing it with his own original variant in which the exposition is extended, development is eliminated, and the recapitulation is an abbreviated gesture rather than a full traversal of the opening material. The title which Bruch ultimately gave this movement, Vorspiel (Prelude), captures the gravitas and tension of this movement through its abstract dramatic connotations.

The second movement is a lyrical jewel – an exercise in compositional restraint and control. Bruch here displays a mastery of melodic and harmonic tension and a sensitivity to form. It serves as a perfect foil to both what came before and what comes after. The vibrant finale displays a clear gypsy character and an unrestrained sense of joy, as if in celebration of the dispersal of the dark, tragic tones of the opening movement.

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  Symphony No. 41 in C major, K. 551, Jupiter,  Wolfgang Amadèus Mozart

Completed on August 10, 1788, the Jupiter was Mozart’s final symphony. The work audibly exists between two musical worlds. One is the Classical world with its expressive, gesture-driven “gallant” style. The other is the Baroque world, with its strict, contrapuntal “learned” style. The majority of the descriptive discourse about this unquestioned masterpiece is couched in these dichotomous terms. Like most dichotomies, however, the gallant-learned distinction falls to pieces upon reflection. There are unquestionably characteristics of the former in the latter and vise versa. The distinction is nonetheless plainly perceivable, and therefore not worth abandoning as long as we can recognize that the barrier between the two is permeable. What makes Mozart’s Jupiter symphony a masterpiece is not that it straddles this divide; what makes it a masterpiece is how it keeps its balance.

Allegro vivace
Andante cantabile
Menuetto: Allegretto
Molto allegro

The first movement presents a disparate collection of gallant style themes, all of which have a rather extroverted character, organized in sonata form. The fanfares of the first thematic group give way to a more song-like second group. An unexpected, clamorous outburst in C minor is hastily and easily transformed into the opera buffa gestures of the closing group. The development recombines fragments and gestures from the exposition into harmonic sequences. The entire movement maintains this extroverted, fragmentary character, balancing it clearly and skillfully against a strict harmonic and thematic framework. In the second movement, Mozart presents the other side of the gallant style. The themes here are more lyrical and more homogeneous, the instrumental textures more subdued. These elements combine to lend an introspective character to the movement. As in the first movement, the themes and harmonies are organized clearly in sonata form. The extroverted and the introspective converge in the minuet of the third movement. The whimsical chromatic descents of the winds and strings meet the brass and timpani in a manner that is more complementary than contrasting. The trio of the third movement opens with a final cadence. This gesture permeates the section, essentially immobilizing it harmonically. The interruptions of this harmonic stasis gain prominence through contrast. It is during these interruptions that the main theme of the finale is first stated.

The learned style comes to the fore in the celebrated fourth movement. Combining elements of sonata form and fugue, the fourth movement reworks the gallant themes and gestures of previous movements, placing them in a contrapuntal network that is at times unrelenting in its intricacies. The entire movement thus shows signs of macrocosmic and microcosmic self-reflectivity – macrocosmic in that the themes themselves are clearly related to previous material, microcosmic in that the themes are uncompromisingly treated in imitative, canonic, and fugal manners. This use self-reflective constructions reaches its limit in the final minute of the piece. The two principle themes are presented in a double fugue which quickly escalates into a pan-thematic, five-part, fully invertible canon. Elaine Sisman argues that the aural incomprehensible density of the writing here points beyond the distinction between the learned and gallant styles to the notion of the sublime. “It reveals vistas of contrapuntal infinity. The coda thus creates cognitive exhaustion born of sheer magnitude. It makes vivid the mathematical sublime” (Mozart: The ‘Jupiter’ Symphony. Cambridge: Cambridge, 1993).

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:: Program Notes:: Fall '03 Concert - by Peter Mondelli

Sanctus in C major (BWV 237) - Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

JS Bach had been living in Leipzig for little more than a month when this setting of the Sanctus was first performed. The occasion, the St. John's Day Feast service of June 24, 1723, provided St. Thomas's new Capellmeister with one of his first opportunities to make use of the expanded musical forces available in Leipzig. Bach's new employers and parishioners were already impressed with his debut at the service on May 30, when his double cantata Die Elenden sollen essen (BWV 75) was premiered. This jubilant setting of the Sanctus, lavishly scored for chorus, three trumpets, timpani, two oboes, strings, and basso continuo, would have only reinforced that positive first impression.

The Biblical text of the Sanctus comes from Isaiah 6:3.
Liturgically, it is part of the preparation for the Eucharist of the Mass.

The Latin text set by Bach is a Lutheran variant - note the change from the Catholic "Gloria tua" ("your glory") to the Protestant "Gloria eius" ("his glory").

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Symphony No. 27 in G Major (Hob. I: 27) - Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Between 1758 and 1761, Joseph Haydn was employed as Capellmeister by the Viennese Count Morzin. The Count was a music enthusiast and maintained a small court orchestra. The post therefore gave the young Haydn his first opportunity to compose large-scale instrumental pieces. This symphony in G major, number 27 in the Hoboken catalog, number 16 in Haydn's own hand, almost undoubtedly dates from that period. Cast in three movements, the work is scored for two oboes, two horns, and strings. (There are no horns in the autograph manuscript. Subsequent copies do contain horn parts, and although they are probably Haydn's own addition, there is little evidence to either confirm or refute their authenticity. The symphony is nonetheless performed most often with horns, as their presence does add color and character to the orchestration.)

I. Allegro molto
II. Siciliano - Andante
III. Finale - Presto

The energetic opening sonata-allegro movement makes extensive use of sequences. The first group launches the work without introduction on a dynamic and charged musical trajectory. The second group, more an extended harmonic gesture than a clear melodic theme, elaborates the dominant, an elaboration confirmed by the brief closing theme. The richly modulatory development makes novel use of augmented sixth chords, bringing the music briefly into B-major before a suspension-rich sequence leads back to a recapitulation entirely in the tonic. The graceful second movement, a lyrical Siciliano in C major scored for strings alone, is in a ternary ABA form that is somewhat disguised by a constant reworking of the initial rhythmic and melodic motive. The symphony closes with a jovially fast-paced, almost rustic finale in sonata form. The entire work is thus marked by a symmetrical balancing of its two ebulliently energetic outer movements with its lyrically graceful inner movement.

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"Voyage for String Orchestra is an instrumental version of a 1971 a cappella choral work, a setting of Richard Wilbur's translation of Baudelaire's L'Invitation Au Voyage. Wilbur's poignant setting pictures a world of obsessive imagination – a drugged vision of heaven full of sensual imagery. The music echoes the quality of the repeated refrain found in this lush translation: 'There, there is nothing else but grace and measure, richness, quietness and pleasure.'" --John Corigliano

Perhaps best known to musicians through Henri Duparc's luxuriant 1870 setting for voice and piano, Charles Baudelaire's L'Invitation Au Voyage has proved a source of inspiration for composers for well over 100 years. The poem has resonance in John Corigliano's own oeuvre: the instrumental version heard tonight caught the ear of flautist James Galway, who in 1983 commissioned a revision for flute and string orchestra. Cast in a single movement, Voyage spins out long melodic phrases over a rich tonal harmonies. These fluid melodies are, in fact, variants on and elaborations of a handful of melodic cells presented at the start of the piece. These ever developing melodies are reinterpreted in different contrapuntal configurations as the piece travels from key to key, creating what can be heard as a voyage in music.

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Cantata 171 Gott, wie dein Name, so ist auch dein Ruhm (BWV 171) - Opening Chorus -
Johann Sebastian Bach

"Actuated by the requests of many good friends, and by much devotion on my own part, I resolved to compose the present cantatas. I undertook the design more readily, because I flatter myself that the lack of poetic charm may be compensated for by the loveliness of the music of our incomparable Capellmeister Bach, and that these songs may be sung in the main churches of our pious Leipzig." --Picander

Picander was the penname of a local poet, Christian Friedrich Henrici, with whom Bach collaborated on a number of sacred and secular cantatas, as well as a handful of other projects, most notably the St. Matthew Passion. Composed in Leipzig for New Year's Day of 1729, Cantata 171 sets one of Picander's texts and forms part of Bach's fourth annual cycle of cantatas, a cycle often referred to as the Picander Jahrgang. The text for the opening chorus, however, is liturgical, coming from Psalm 48:11.

Text:
Gott wie dein Name, so ist auch dein Ruhm bis an der Welt Ende

Translation:
God, as thy name is, so too is thy fame to the ends of the earth.

Scored for chorus, three trumpets, timpani, two oboes, strings, and basso continuo, the cantata's opening chorus is a four-voice fugue. If the theme sounds familiar, it is probably because it closely resembles the passage from the Credo of Bach's B-minor Mass which sets the text "Patrem omnipotentem..." Considering that both works were composed around the same time and in the same key, it seems likely that one passage was modeled on the other. The oboes and strings double the vocal lines for most of the movement. The trumpets and timpani, however, independently elaborate and punctuate the rich fugal texture.

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Bachianas Brasileiras #4 - Prelude - Hector Villa-Lobos (1887-1959)
Missa Diligite - Mozart Camargo Guarnieri (1907-1993)

Villa-Lobos is undoubtedly the most significant and influential figure in 20th century Brazilian art music. Camargo Guarnieri seems to have followed Villa-Lobos' path. Both musicians were born into middle class immigrant's households. Villa-Lobos went to Paris in the 20s and Camargo Guarnieri followed in the late 30s. In both cases, Paris was where their fame began. Villa-Lobos became the enfant terrible of the local scene, by inventing stories about trips to the amazon and being held captive by native tribes. He became a close friend of Milhaud and of Varêse whose music he confessed not to understand but whose company and adulation he enjoyed. Camargo Guarnieri went there to study with the great Nadia Boulanger. Later in their careers, they both enjoyed success in U.S.A where many orchestras and institutions commissioned works from them.

Their character and personal lives, however, could not have been more different. Villa-Lobos was self-taught and fought to introduce the rich music of Brazil into the concert halls. Camargo Guarnieri suffered a similar problem but from another angle. He wanted to defend the nationalistic wave from the 'new' tendencies and was initially very opposed to serialism and atonality, techniques he reconciled with later in his life. Villa-Lobos was treated as a wild and "too modern" composer by his contemporaries, and Camarillo Garner was treated as a conservative.

The music of tonight's concert is very neo-baroque in style and sound. What is outstanding in both pieces heard tonight is that they manage to be faithful to their nation's music while preserving a pseudo academic form. The Brazilian flavor constantly 'sneaks' in despite the fact that no direct allusion to Brazilian music, such as rhythm or melodic motives, is present. This influence permeates the music in characteristic harmonies and chord progressions which originate from the world of song and Bossa Nova.

The series of Bachianas Brasileiras was written between the years 1930 and 1945. In Villa-Lobos's own words, the series is "Homage to the great genius of J. S. Bach...a kind of universal folkloric source, rich and profound...linking all peoples." These works were not intended as a stylized rendition of the music of Bach but as an attempt to adapt freely to Brazilian music a number of baroque harmonic and contrapuntal procedures. Nr. 4, originally for piano solo, is perhaps the most Bachian of the set in its techniques. The 1st movement, Preludio, is based on a descending B minor scale first introduced by the violas in an inner voice. It becomes the bass of the piece, gradually growing in dynamics through the process of expansion and augmentation. Although written in a free form, it resembles the Passacaglias and Chaconnes of the Baroque era.

The Missa Dilígite was composed in 1972 during Camargo Guarnieri's last composing period. During the 1960s, Camargo Guarnieri interrupted his usually prolific compositional activity for a period of reflection on its direction. He decided to continue in a style which showed a more direct involvement with national sources. The writing has elements of the baroque and renaissance techniques. In this piece, it is the last movement that resembles a Passacaglia. The voices seem to sing an abstraction of a melody.

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