Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Caroline Shaw & the Gardens of Dumbarton Oaks

Who: The Dover Quartet
What: Caroline Shaw's "Plan & Elevation (The Grounds of Dumbarton Oaks)", Bedřich Smetana's String Quartet No. 1 in E Minor ("From My Life"), and Dmitri Shostakovich's String Quartet No. 2 in A Major
When: Sunday afternoon, February 26th, at 3:00, with a pre-concert talk by Dr. Truman Bullard at 2:15
Where: Temple Ohev Sholom, on N. Front Street in uptown Harrisburg between Seneca & Emerald Streets.
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"How do you capture the tragic, beautiful loneliness of existence, and the complete, ecstatic joy of existence?" asks composer Caroline Shaw. “The way that I am able at least to get at some of that stuff for myself is through music. What is it about music that is different from other things?”

Considering the work following her “Dumbarton Oaks” quartet on this weekend's concert with the Dover Quartet – officially, it's Plan & Elevation (The Grounds of Dumbarton Oaks) – is the quartet Bedřich Smetana subtitled “From My Life,” ending with its famous evocation of his impending deafness, perhaps this might be a good question to preface the entire program: music can entertain, but it can also bring meaning to our existence – and it can bring meaning and expression to the lives of its composers.

We tend to think of composers who get up in the morning and write a piece of music which we will listen to and think “that's nice” or “I didn't like that so much as that other one” often without imagining these composers exist within time, within a period of history during which things happen, during which events affect our lives, during which people who create create in response to events either by engaging them or by disengaging from them.

It is interesting and perhaps curious, 16 years later, to look back on what artists thought about their art and their role as creative artists after September 11th, what impact anything they could create might have in a world changed by current events, events that perhaps trivialize everything else. Now, with political and social events unfolding daily around us with the new administration in Washington, artists are again wondering “how to respond” (I recommend Alex Ross's New Yorker article, “Making Art in a Time of Rage”).

This weekend, the most recent winners of Chamber Music America's Cleveland Quartet Prize, the Dover Quartet, will come to Harrisburg for a concert that includes three works – none of them by Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn or any other of those typical great Classical composers one expects to find on programs of chamber music: there's a new work (though premiered in 2015, the first work has occasionally been listed as “Commissioned Work TBA”) by a composer who is described as the “youngest winner of a Pulitzer Prize” in Music; the closest thing to a war-horse on the program is Smetana's Quartet “From My Life”; and the second half is the second of Shostakovich's 15 string quartets which rarely get performed in this country (except for the autobiographical No. 8).

But the Dover Quartet – who do perform Beethoven and Mozart and the rest – have chosen a program that may be more thought provoking than mere entertainment, but then “entertainment” is a loaded term in itself that doesn't have to mean “banal” to be entertaining. Whether you remember television being described as “a vast wasteland” in a speech by President Kennedy's newly appointed FCC chairman in 1961 or not, with its string of “game shows, formula comedies about totally unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism, murder, western bad men, western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more violence, and cartoons” (today, one could replace the Western with, say, Reality TV shows), you might wonder “what is the world coming to?” You might add, with the help of the arts, we have found a way to survive the past.

In this context, we might find Smetana's Quartet “a touch of reality” as it describes various points in its composer's life as Smetana seeks to express “tragic, beautiful loneliness of existence, and the complete, ecstatic joy of existence.” And Shostakovich, writing his quartet at the height of World War II and the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, as an example how a composer “disengages from reality” to create something that transcends it and by its very nature finds in the act of creation a way to resist.

And how does Shaw's tribute to “Dumbarton Oaks” fit into this?

Actually, I've no idea, not having heard the work, except to know that any artist these days contends with so much reality – both hopeful and distressing: again, the very act of creativity is to resist and transcend that reality – perhaps by turning chaos into order, by finding beauty in things easily overlooked, by finding ways of expressing joy or catharsis, art reminds us that, despite everything going on around you, you still have a soul.

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Say to a musician or music-lover “Dumbarton Oaks” and a Bach-like string of notes comes cascading out of a work by Igor Stravinsky, his Concerto in E-flat for chamber orchestra which had been commissioned by Robert and Mildred Bliss to celebrate their 30th Wedding Anniversary at their estate in Georgetown, Washington D.C., a place they called “Dumbarton Oaks.” Hence the subtitle by which Stravinsky's three-movement, classically-inspired work is always known.

Caroline Shaw was the first “Early-Career Musician in Residence” at Dumbarton Oaks which is now operated as a museum and research center by Harvard University to whom the Blisses gave the house with its grounds and gardens in 1940. Ms. Shaw was commissioned to write a piece to celebrate the museum's 75th Anniversary while working in the house which has its own rich history.

Originally part of a grant from Queen Anne to Colonel Ninian Beall in 1702, which he called the “Rock of Dumbarton” after his homeland in Scotland, the central part of the existing house was built around 1801 and served as the residence for Vice-President John C. Calhoun in the 1820s. It was enlarged in the mid-19th Century and named “The Oaks.” In 1920, the Blisses bought it and combined the names as “Dumbarton Oaks,” embarking on a renovation and expansion project for both the house and its grounds.

During the late summer and early fall of 1944, at the height of World War II – also the same exact time Shostakovich was composing his 2nd String Quartet – the mansion hosted a conference that resulted in the founding of the United Nations.

Currently under further renovation, the museums will not be open to the public until the Spring of 2017, but the gardens are still open during public hours.

a screen capture of the garden in autumn from the Dumbarton Oaks website

In this clip, Caroline Shaw and Dumbarton director Jan Ziolkowski talk about her being the “Early Career Musician,” what being “in residence” at Dumbarton Oaks meant and how she was preparing to write a new piece for its 75th Anniversary:

“Before her new work’s performance, Shaw explained briefly that the title Plan & Elevation carries a double meaning. It refers not just to architects’ drawings of structures from above and on each side, but also to how Fellows at Dumbarton Oaks, in Shaw’s words, often 'have a plan that develops and changes over their time here in ways they didn’t expect.' Plan & Elevation takes inspiration from the Dumbarton Oaks Gardens – you can explore them with this link, here – and consists of five movements, each named after one of the 'rooms' of the gardens: the Ellipse, the Cutting Garden, the Herbaceous Border, the Orangery, and the Beech Tree (Shaw’s personal favorite).”

It may be February, in fact it may be warm for February, but what nicer way to spend a Sunday afternoon than wandering through the gardens of a historic house like Dumbarton Oaks, musically as well as metaphorically?

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As I mentioned earlier, Caroline Shaw, a triple-threat of a composer, violinist (who plays the viola), and singer, won the Pulitzer Prize in Music in 2013 for her "Partita for 8 Voices,"  written for her a capella vocal group, Roomful of Teeth. There's a curious dichotomy, here: with a name like "Roomful of Teeth," the title "Partita" seems rather out-of-place, not just because a "partita" is an 18th-Century instrumental form being performed, here, by singers. 

A partita is, among many things, a "suite" in Baroque days, and usually a suite of formulaic and often stereotypical dances, bringing to mind the sarabandes and gavottes that populate much of the instrumental music of the early-1700s, not all of them masterpieces offered to posterity compared to Bach's Partitas for keyboard or for solo violin (or the suites for solo cello or the Orchestral Suites, for that matter). And like Bach's D Minor Partita for solo violin which ends with that magnificent Chaconne (originally a dance-form), Shaw ends her four-movement suite, following an Allemande, a Sarabande and a Courante, with another similar old dance, a Passacaglia, however brief.

Sounds very old-fashioned, no? Until you listen to it.

Partita,” the composer explains, “is a simple piece. Born of a love of surface and structure, of the human voice, of dancing and tired ligaments, of music, and of our basic desire to draw a line from one point to another. It was written with and for my dear friends in Roomful of Teeth. Inspired by Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawing 305.”

“This is a deceptive sort of music,” blogger J. Bryan Lowder writes, “with an elegant, easy smoothness built from distinct and fascinating bits-and-pieces. Listening to it is a little like examining a great mosaic, both from a distance and occasionally with a magnifying glass, the better to see the grout between the tiles. Perhaps coincidentally, one of Shaw’s idiosyncratic style guidelines is “silk shoes gliding over marble mosaic.” She’s trying to tell her musicians how to sound, but she might as well have been telling us how to listen—no description could be more apt.” (Read the entire post from Slate's Culture Blog, here.) 

Here is just the final movement of the Partita, recorded at its World Premiere in 2009 by Roomful of Teeth with the composer, third from the left.

Keeping in mind that not all works by one composer necessarily sound alike, style and "voice" aside, and that the challenges of writing for an 8-voice a capella group and for a string quartet each have their different inspirations and their problems-to-solve (technical and aesthetic), I think whatever you may think of this music you will recognize she has an exceptional creative voice (puns intended) and I look forward to hearing this more recent piece to see how she expresses herself further, with or without the considerable pressure of having won a Pulitzer Prize so early in her career.

- Dick Strawser

"Stay tuned" for further posts on the quartets by Shostakovich and Smetana.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Chamber Music with Friends and a 35th Anniversary with Schubert's Trout

A generation ago, it was common for famous musicians, known primarily as orchestral players or soloists, to step onto the concert stage in chamber music programs where the other players for these especially formed ensembles were advertised as friends of the main performer. While it became a bit redundant in the mid-1970s when the New York Philharmonic concertmaster held a “Rodney Friend and Friends” concert, the idea continues today when the Harrisburg Symphony's Stuart Malina plays chamber music with members of the orchestra, an annual series called, simply, “Stuart and Friends.”

For Saturday's special anniversary concert, the current directors of Market Square Concerts – performers in their own rights – decided to celebrate thirty-five seasons of MSC by giving a performance of their own and asking some of their friends to join them.

Jeremy Gill
Composer Jeremy Gill – originally from Harrisburg (his oboe teacher when he was in high school was Thomas Rowe, oboist in the Harrisburg Symphony), he's lived in Philadelphia and now in Boston – is not only a composer, conductor and pianist and a friend of past directors Lucy Miller Murray and the late Ellen Hughes as well as Peter Sirotin and Ya-Ting Chang, he is known for being a wonderful cook, and our directors swear that he can make a killer Martini!

His “Duo for Violin and Piano” was commissioned by MSC founding director Lucy Miller Murray and her husband, Martin Murray, for the current directors to perform at this concert: you can read more about in the previous post, here.

Geoffrey Pilkington
Another friend on the program is Geoffrey Pilkington, principal horn of the Washington National Opera at the Kennedy Center where he recently was involved in a complete cycle of Wagner's Ring with its very demanding horn parts (he had already played it in San Francisco). In the past, he has played in the horn section of the Harrisburg Symphony, starting in 2011, and joined MSC for the Beethoven and Mozart quintets for piano and winds with pianist Stuart Malina for two previous Summermusic festivals. Geoffrey and his wife, Kathryn, just welcomed their second son, Colin, into their family a week ago. Congratulations, Geoffrey and Kathryn!

He'll be joining Peter and Ya-Ting for the Horn Trio by Johannes Brahms, and you can read more about the Brahms in the previous post as well.

The second half of the program adds three more friends to the mix for Schubert's Quintet which was written for an amateur cellist Schubert had met while on a summer holiday, something he could play with his friends. You can read more about Schubert and his “Trout” by scrolling down just a little further...

Stepniak talks about Mozart
Michael Stepniak, a dear friend since Peter and Ya-Ting's Peabody Conservatory days, will return to celebrate MSC's 35th Anniversary on Saturday at Whitaker Center. When Michael is not playing viola, he wears his educator-administrator hat as the Dean of Shenandoah Conservatory in Winchester, Virginia. Michael writes beautifully and gives talks and lectures filled with insight, humor and unexpected revelations on various topics. Michael is a proud father of three beautiful young adults, and enjoys reading, attending arts-related events, and most of all, traveling the world with his wife, Anne, whenever time allows. Here is a video of Michael interviewing American Icon, Wynton Marsalis during his residency at Shenandoah Conservatory.

Fiona Thompson and Zaree
Recently, Michael gave a talk about Albert Einstein and Mozart, before playing Mozart's amazing Divertimento in E-Flat, K.563 with Peter Sirotin and Fiona Thompson at the Hershey Medical Center, part of an MSC "Soundscape" Outreach program earlier this month.

Cellist Fiona Thompson is originally from the UK and is principal cellist of the Harrisburg Symphony, where, a few seasons ago, she was the soloist in Richard Strauss' Don Quixote. When she is not busy performing with the Mendelssohn Piano Trio along with Peter and Ya-Ting or with other musicians in the region, or, in addition to all that, teaching, Fiona enjoys reading, spending time with her husband, Rob and her beautiful horse, Zaree.

Devin Howell in the Mountains
Just two weeks ago, bassist Devin Howell, a Harrisburg native and resident, was the soloist for Nino Rota's Divertimento Concertante with the Harrisburg Symphony Orchestra where he is also principal bass. Devin plays with many other established orchestras and musicians in the region and teaches privately as well as at several regional universities. One of his students, now attending the Curtis School of Music, recently won an audition for an opening in the HSO bass section and is now her teacher's stand-partner! During the summer, Devin also plays with the Lake Placid Sinfonietta in the Adirondacks where he manages to fit in some hiking. Like many musicians, he also enjoys good food!

Peter Sirotin & Food
So, other than doing the administrative work to run Market Square Concerts, practicing, performing, teaching and traveling, what else do our directors like to do?

As you might gather from his Facebook posts, Peter Sirotin has a massive sweet tooth. During his first two months in the US as a graduate student, he had sampled all flavors of ice cream available at a grocery story near the Peabody Conservatory. Peter also loves to read, write and have conversations with friends and family about current issues.

Ya-Ting Chang cooking food
As for Ya-Ting Chang, our executive director, her #1 dream is for there to be 48 hours in each day. She would then be able to find time to enjoy cooking, tending to her orchids, spending time with their 14 year-old cat, Tiger, and visiting her 4 year-old niece, Clarissa.

Occasionally, over the years, Market Square Concerts has offered prefatory performances by young performers. This concert will officially begin with a 14-year-old pianist playing the Scherzo No. 2 in B-flat Minor by Frederic Chopin. Pianist Zev Malina is also a composer – his setting of a favorite children's book, Robert McCloskey's “Blueberries for Sal!”, for narrator and chamber ensemble, was performed as part of a Bar Mitzvah project to benefit the Dauphin County Library System. You can hear the entire work in this YouTube video in which Zev is the narrator. Among the performers you might recognize violinist Peter Sirotin, bassist Devin Howell, and pianist Stuart Malina, the composer's father. And in addition to dealing with homework and other realities of being a 14-year-old, Zev also plays the bassoon and is a member of the Harrisburg Symphony Youth Orchestra where his sister, Sara, is the principal cellist.

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Here is a performance of Schubert's "Trout" Quintet with a Hungarian ensemble that, for lack of space, could be called "Zoltan Koscis and Friends" recorded in 1982. Pianist Koscis is certainly the one internationally known member of the group. He would later also become well known in Europe as a conductor and composer (he died this past November at the age of 64).

The Quintet, scored for piano, violin, viola, cello and bass - because the strings include a double bass rather than a second violin to make it an actual string quartet, officially it can't be called by definition a "Piano Quintet" - is in five movements, the fourth of which is a set of variations on one of Schubert's most popular songs, Die Forelle or - the Trout!

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Schubert's Quintet was written following a delightful summer vacation in an old Austrian city located between two idyllic rivers in eastern Austria. It has nothing to do with the joy of trout fishing and no one plays an instrument called "the trout" (though there is an instrument called "the serpent" which is not used here, either.) Let me explain...

In 1815, Schubert, then 18, met the singer Johann Michael Vogl, a baritone who sang major roles at one of Vienna's major opera houses: the year before, he had created the role of the villain Pizzaro in Beethoven's latest revision of Fidelio. Reluctantly agreeing to meet the young composer, he sang through of a pile of songs, his reactions going from “not bad” to “you have something special in you, but as yet you are too little of the actor and showman; you have fine ideas but should make more of them.”

Vogl was a tall and imposing man. Schubert was about 5'1”. One of Schubert's friends drew a wicked caricature of the two, reflecting Vogl's stature in the arts community and Schubert's relative insignificance.

In those days, singers didn't give “song recitals.” Composers – even Mozart and Beethoven – wrote songs primarily for the domestic market, meaning amateurs to perform at home, back in the days before the invention of stereos, radios and TVs when people made their own entertainment rather than watched or listened to it. If you read any novels of the time – like Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, written in 1813 – there will likely be references to the young unmarried daughters of the house who would play the piano and sing for their friends and family: a girl's talent was considered a marriageable trait.

These, then, were the performers Schubert's contemporaries had in mind except Schubert often wrote songs setting “deeper” poems with more difficult piano accompaniments and requiring more vocal technique. Vogl appreciated this and took Schubert and his songs around to his friends and sang this music for them. Without being published, Schubert would build a reputation as a composer of songs. It was, however, not a very good kind of reputation: opera was “where it was at.”

And that's probably why Schubert's friends arranged for Herr Vogl to meet their young friend. Money was to be made not in writing songs for pretty daughters to warble after dinner but in getting operas performed. That was the mark of a professional composer. In 1820, Vogl would sing the parts of twin brothers in Schubert's opera Die Zwillingsbrüder, written just for him. One of the few operas Schubert would complete or even see on the stage, it was a failure. One of music's great mysteries is that Schubert, an expert dramatist in the miniatures he wrote – Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel, for instance, written when he was 16 – seemed incapable of finding the dramatic moment in extended scenes on the operatic stage.

Perhaps Schubert's most popular song is Die Forelle, “The Trout.” He wrote this during the spring of 1817. There's a famous story that, in the midst of drinking a good deal of wine on a Saturday night, Schubert sat down and (while everybody else was talking) wrote Die Forelle. The manuscript certainly looks like it, but the truth is, he was visiting a friend whose younger brother very much liked Schubert's songs, and so Schubert sat down and from memory wrote out a copy of this one for him – it was the third time he'd copied out this same song, but keep in mind it was also in the days before there were photocopiers.

This video (with nice pictures) of Schubert's song and the lyrics is sung by the incomparable Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, with his equally incomparable collaborator, Gerald Moore:
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In 1819, Vogl was going on an extended vacation to his hometown of Steyr, an industrial town about 2/3s of the way between Vienna and Salzburg (it would celebrate its 1,000th Anniversary in 1980) and he decided to take his young friend Schubert with him. Schubert stayed at the home of a “cultured lawyer” who had three sons and eight daughters and whose nephew, Anton Stadler, an old school friend of Schubert's, also lived there. He would meet Vogl for meals at the home of Josef Koller, an iron merchant whose daughter was a talented pianist named Josephine. It was there Schubert, Vogl, Josephine and Stadler performed Der Erlkönig as a trio (Schubert sang the part of the father). That month, Schubert also wrote a piano sonata just for Josephine – the Sonata in A Major, K.664. Another piece of music associated with that vacation was a little cantata written for Vogl's 51st birthday – Schubert was again one of the singers – and performed at the Kollers' house.

More public music making took place at the home of a wealthy mining official, Sylvester Paumgartner, a bachelor who was a local patron of the arts and an amateur wind player and cellist. The best musicales in Steyr took place either in the music room or the larger 2nd floor salon of his home on the city's town square (see photo). Vogl, sort of a local hero having gone off to a great career in the Big City, was the center of attention and being a bit of a prima donna would not always feel like singing: on occasion Paumgartner had to get down on his knees and beg him to sing. Schubert was very much in the “back seat,” sitting at the piano, but still, people admired his songs, though they more openly enjoyed Vogl's singing of them. One of the favorites was Die Forelle. Paumgartner owned a copy of Johann Nepomuck Hummel's Septet in an arrangement for the unusual combination of piano, violin, viola, cello and double bass (the first 'real' and enduring piano quintet, consisting of the now standard string quartet plus piano, wasn't written until Schumann wrote his in 1842). In order to have something else for this group to play, he asked Schubert to write a little something for him and, if he wouldn't mind, include a set of variations on the song Die Forelle as one of the movements. And so that's how Schubert came to write this Quintet in A Major for Piano & Strings - which has always been known as “The Trout Quintet.”

Since the original manuscript is lost and no one (not even his school friend Stadler) ever mentioned the performance in a letter or subsequent memoirs, it's hard to say when it was written or premiered. The going story is that he wrote it then and there and in a matter of days everybody played it and loved it.

Unfortunately, that's not true. There were two other visits to Steyr – 1823 and 1825 – but because of the style of the piece compared to its contemporaries, it's more likely it was written after this first visit when Schubert was 22.

What actually happened was that the request was made before Vogl and Schubert left, the piece was composed that autumn in Vienna, Stadler copied the parts and sent them back to Paumgartner. Unfortunately, Schubert overestimated Paumgartner's abilities as a cellist: apparently, the work was played through (perhaps not even performed), then put away on the shelf. It wasn't published until 1829, a year after Schubert died at the age of 31. Today, it is probably one of the most popular pieces in the chamber music repertoire.

So, ironically, Schubert's friends' attempts to accelerate his career as an opera composer, introducing him to one of the leading singers in Vienna at the time, didn't work out, at least in the sense of any operatic success (of course, what might have happened had Schubert lived to be in his 60s, one can only imagine). But it did produce a great champion of Schubert's music, especially his songs, and someone who managed to introduce this music to an audience that might not otherwise have heard it.

Oh, and there was one instrumental work we can thank this friendship for: without Vogl's introduction to an amateur cellist he knew, we would never have had the "Trout" Quintet.

- Dick Strawser

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Celebrating 35 Years with the Music of Brahms, Schubert, and a World Premiere by Jeremy Gill

Ya-Ting Chang & Peter Sirotin; Jeremy Gill
This Saturday at 8:00 at Whitaker Center – with no blizzards on the horizon, this year – a special performance celebrates thirty-five seasons with Market Square Concerts as the current directors Artistic Director (and violinist) Peter Sirotin and Executive Director (and pianist) Ya-Ting Chang are joined by several friends for a concert with the music of Schubert and Brahms and the world premiere of a work by a composer familiar to Harrisburg, Jeremy Gill, commissioned for the occasion by the founding director of Market Square Concerts and her husband, Lucy and Martin Murray.

Gill had been commissioned to compose a string quartet to celebrate the 25th Anniversary of Market Square Concerts, a work he called, understandably, “25”, performed here in 2007 by the Parker Quartet. For the 30th Anniversary, his “Three Songs About Words,” setting poems by Lucy Miller Murray, were premiered in 2012.

And so, in keeping with the tradition, as the 35th Anniversary came around, Lucy and Martin Murray commissioned a new work for violinist Peter Sirotin and pianist Ya-Ting Chang, the current directors of Market Square Concerts, for this weekend's concert!

In an interview with WITF's Cary Burkett, performer Peter Sirotin and composer Jeremy Gill talked about the new piece, how it was inspired by a passage in Claudio Monteverdi's "Vespers" written in 1610, something composed over 400 years ago. (Think "if it's over 200 years since Beethoven composed his Eroica Symphony, Monteverdi's "Vespers" was written 200 years before that!").

"The movement itself has a single soprano voice," Gill says, "and she sings 11 times the same phrase, 'Saint Mary, hear us.' Never changes the pitches, rarely changes the rhythm, but all around her the instruments are changing textures constantly. For me there's this implication if you have the soprano singing over and over again the same thing. And it's a request, right?  'Saint Mary, hear us.' Why does she have to say it so many times and in the same way? There's this implication of desperation there. She's not being heard."

Expanding on this sense of an unanswered prayer, Gill makes the desperation and longing even more pronounced.

"I used those notes that she sings and the rhythms in which she sings them in the violin part. That, towards the end of the work creates a pretty dramatic climax in which by the end she's just sort of screaming out this invocation. And there's never a satisfying answer."

This sense of communication - or lack of it - is no doubt something today's audiences could relate to.

(You can hear the entire interview, here.)

Gill's Duo for Violin and Piano, completed well ahead of schedule – no last-minute “will-he-finish-it-in-time” worries, here – is only the latest work of his to be heard in his hometown: his Capriccio was enthusiastically received when the Parker Quartet performed it here in 2013 before they recorded it for the Innova label. (You can read about that concert in this earlier post on the Market Square Concerts blog.) Before that, the Harrisburg Symphony performed his Clarinet Concerto (officially, the Notturno Concertante) with Christopher Grymes in 2014 (you can read my blog-post about it, here), his Symphony No. 1 from 1999 which they performed in 2009, and before that, having commissioned “Novas,” premiered it in 2002. 

You can also read my interview with Jeremy here, talking about his life as a composer both when he wrote that 1st Symphony and ten years later when it was being performed by his home-town orchestra. A great deal has happened in the eight years since then, too, the work being premiered this weekend only the latest in a longer string of works we in Harrisburg have had a chance to hear, following his career.

In addition, there was a large-scale song cycle, Helian; the comparatively diminutive “Eliot Fragments (for Carter)”, a piano solo inspired by lines of T.S. Eliot to commemorate the 100th Birthday of American composer Elliott Carter; his “Variations” for String Quartet premiered by the Cassatt Quartet on a Market Square Concerts program in 2001; and the Eight Variations and Toccata on 'Betzet Yisrael' for organ, given its premiere here in 2011.

I'm probably forgetting a few, but you get the picture. By following the links to Gill's website, you can hear samples from these and other works, as well as find out information about recordings and more up-coming performances.

Rehearsing Mozart (or was it Beethoven?)
Composer Jeremy Gill is only one of the Directors' Friends on the program. Among those friends performing will be hornist Geoffrey Pilkington, familiar to symphony goers for the performance of the Schumann Konzertstück for Four Horns and Orchestra with Stuart Malina and the orchestra, but also from two different series of Summermusic concerts in which Pilkington joined pianist Stuart Malina and clarinetist Christopher Grimes, oboist Gerard Reuter, and bassoonist Peter Kolkay for the two quintets for piano and winds by Mozart and by Beethoven. (That's Pilkington on the far right...)

Pilkington is now a principal horn with the Washington National Opera Orchestra at the Kennedy Center. Last season, he was heavily involved (as any principal horn player would be) with the opera company's “Ring Cycle” (actually, the second one he's performed: the other, in San Francisco), all four operas of The Ring of the Nibelung by Richard Wagner. Here's an interview with WETA's David Ginder (speaking of local connections, for those who remember the early days of WITF-FM when David Ginder was a familiar voice of classical music here in Central Pennsylvania).

He will be joining Peter and Ya-Ting for a performance of Johannes Brahms' “Trio in E-flat for Violin, Horn and Piano in E-flat Major, Op. 40,” more lovingly known as the Horn Trio. In fact, one could say The Horn Trio.

For the second half of the program, Peter and Ya-Ting will be joined by violist Michael Sheppard, a frequent collaborator of theirs and one often heard at past Summermusic performances; cellist Fiona Thompson, principal cellist of the Harrisburg Symphony who completes the Mendelssohn Piano Trio with Peter and Ya-Ting; and bassist Devin Howell, principal bassist of the Harrisburg Symphony with whom he was soloist two weeks ago in the delightful “Divertimento Concertante” (a concerto for Double Bass and Orchestra in all but name) by Nino Rota.

You can read a little bit more about the performers on the next post, here, which also includes some information about the work that concludes the program.

The celebration concludes with a perennial favorite and one of the most charming masterpieces in the chamber music repertoire (as one cannot always pair “charming” with “masterpiece”), the “Quintet for Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello and Bass in A Major, D.667” by Franz Schubert, a work better known simply as “The Trout Quintet.” Do not ask who plays the Trout.

I have written occasionally about The Trout Quintet: I'll repost the one from Summermusic way back in 2009 where, I discover, all the video clips have, like so many fish hung out to dry, expired. So check out the next post, here, for information about the Schubert as well.

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This post, then, continues with the Brahms Horn Trio, a work Peter Sirotin told me was one of his favorites. There are many performances available on YouTube with the usual caveat about recording sound or video quality, but one of my favorites, despite its old mono sound, is this amazing 1957 recording with the incomparable Dennis Brain, one of the greatest horn players ever, recording shortly before his death in an automobile accident. Though you may not have heard of his colleagues, pianist Cyril Preedy and violinist Max Salpeter, I hope you'll find the performance as vital as I did when I first heard it years ago. Alas, it is only available in individual movements:

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1st Movement (Andante)

2nd Movement (Scherzo)

3rd Movement (Adagio)

4th Movement (Finale)

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Brahms in the mid-1860s
Johannes Brahms had moved away from his native Hamburg to become – eventually – a famous composer and pianist in Vienna but, like a good son, he kept in touch with his family, especially his mother whom he idolized, particularly after his father, following 34 years of marriage, decided to move out. Not much is known about Christiane Brahms except she was 17 years older than her husband, a seamstress who was otherwise “hardly known outside the house.” Brahms interrupted his summer in 1864 to return home for a visit, helping his father set up a new place to live (and, incidentally, finding him a job as a bass player in the Hamburg Philharmonic) and consoling “two weeping women,” his disconsolate mother and her dependent elder daughter, Elise, the only one of the three children still living at home.

The youngest child, Fritz, long supported himself as a pianist who taught and performed in Hamburg, even playing Brahms' “Handel Variations” in public which Clara heard and reported were “totally beyond him.” (Small wonder: I could say the same of many pianists I've heard play them...)

Christiane Brahms in 1862
The following winter, Christiane wrote a long rambling letter to “Hannes,” worried about her weakening eyes and her hands becoming unsteady (a major concern for any seamstress, even one now in her mid-70s).

Three days after she'd mailed the letter, Fritz sent his brother a telegram: “If you want to see our mother again, come at once.” He hurried home to Hamburg but arrived two days after she had died suddenly of a stroke.

He wrote to his friend, Clara Schumann, who volunteered to come to Hamburg if she could be of any help, but Brahms hardly knew what to do himself, after getting his sister situated with friends (she, who never had a job, never had anything of her own beyond a tiny allowance from her mother, never knowing what to do without her mother telling her). When he returned to Vienna a week after the funeral, a friend stopped by to visit and found the composer playing Bach's Goldberg Variations. Without stopping, through his tears he told his visitor about his mother's death – and then after that rarely spoke of her publicly again.

Meanwhile, Clara, after taking a treatment for her arthritic hands called “animal baths” (“plunging her hands into the entrails of some freshly killed creature” – who knew?!), resumed her concertizing, a London tour because she needed the money. As he often did with a new work, Brahms sent her some sketches for “a so-called German Requiem” but not one setting the traditional liturgical text. Coming so soon after his mother's death, it would be easy to assume it was written in her memory but he had been thinking about it for some time. Even the melody he had used for the movement, “All Flesh is as Grass,” was a sarabande originally from his first attempt at a symphony (if you can imagine that sombre dance as the substitute for a scherzo!) begun shortly after his mentor Robert Schumann, Clara's husband, threw himself into the Rhine a decade earlier (that symphony's opening theme had already found a home in the first movement of his D Minor Piano Concerto).

Then it was time for his annual summer vacation – a working vacation when Brahms, just turned 32 and recently moved to Vienna where he'd become the director of the Vienna Singverein, escaped the urban distractions in order to compose. This summer he chose a village outside Baden-Baden, a quaint town near the Rhine deep in the Black Forest, mostly because Clara Schumann and her family were there and had recommended it. His day consisted of a fairly predictable schedule, awaking at dawn, then taking a walk after some strong coffee, followed by four hours of composing, then lunch either at Clara's or at a local inn, more work, then more coffee, and another visit to the Schumanns' where he usually stayed for dinner. From the windows of his rooms, he could see the forest-covered mountains just beyond the road into town.

the modern "French" Horn
While he finished two works that had been on the front burner for a couple of years – the G Major String Sextet and the E Minor Cello Sonata – the new work he began in those rooms, between walks and coffee, looking out over that forest, was a trio for horn, violin and piano, not a very typical combination for chamber music. The way most composers made their money, now that the days of being a paid employee of some wealthy, music-loving aristocrat had passed, was writing works that could be purchased and performed by amateur musicians in their own homes, not necessarily by professional musicians in concert halls. There would be little demand for a piece like this, Brahms knew, especially since he specified it should be played on the old-fashioned natural German waldhorn (or forest horn) which without valves had a limited range of possible notes it could play, already made obsolete by the modern valved instrument we know for some reason as the “French” horn, capable of playing everything within the chromatic scale. As it is, beyond its premiere, the work is rarely performed as Brahms intended though horn players today are sensitive to the differences between the instruments, especially the “color” of the tone when playing what are called “stopped notes.”

Natural Horn (with a bunch of crooks)
In order for the natural horn to play notes outside its single overtone series – a horn in E-flat was limited only to notes within the E-flat Major scale or those in common with a key like, say, G Major – the player would then have to add a length of tubing to the instrument called a “crook” to change the home key of the horn so it could now play in that key. But this left out any quick modulations between keys because one would have to take out one crook, put it quietly aside, then insert the next crook and then re-tune the instrument (a risky venture mid-performance). So either the composer would change only to keys the horn could play in with its few possible pitches the keys had in common – or did without the horn in the new key. In some orchestral works, two pairs of horn-players, pitched in different keys, could solve the problem, but Haydn, for instance, always tried to avoid such a solution because it was an added expense which the Prince frowned upon.

This is the reason why all four movements of Brahms' trio are in E-flat, rather than branching off into any number of possible related keys for variety's sake, meaning once set-up and tuned, the horn player didn't have to deal with additional, extraneous lengths of pipe. Now, while a horn could play the pitch G in the key of E-flat Major, it could not play the pitch G-flat which you'd need for E-flat Minor. But in order to manage this and other such notes, a horn player would insert his hand deeper into the instrument's bell and “stop” the pitch, which required additional control of the emboucher (the pressure of the lips on the mouthpiece) in order to “lower” the played pitch. This gave the note a distinctly darker tone, one the modern valved (“French”) instrument would not have. But Brahms wanted this effect specifically and it is most tellingly used in the third movement, the slow, mournful movement in E-flat Minor.

A scene in Germany's Black Forest
There is a natural (no pun intended) sound especially in the opening movement if we remember that the dawn of German Romanticism in the early-19th Century often evoked hunting calls from deep in the German forests (like the mysterious Black Forest around Baden-Baden) – think of the whole story behind Carl Maria von Weber's opera Der Freischütz with, its sinister elements aside, all those hunting choruses full of the folksy sound of men's voices and the more prevalent sound of the horn both as a solo instrument and as a quartet. Bringing such an instrument into a small concert space – much less a family's living room – would have been very different from having a violin or a piano imitating these very sound effects. But it is only in the finale that Brahms lets the horn “go,” romping through the woodlands – off on the hunt! – with a barrage of traditional horn-calls.

Yet, coming back to that odd slow movement where the player has to “stop” the note to play the darker minor third of the key – the G-flat – that is the very pitch Brahms chose to end the movement with and he would not have done that if he didn't specifically want that “veiled” tone (he could just as easily have ended the horn on an E-flat and avoid this different sounding note). The whole movement is a mournful dirge and though he may not have specifically said so, how could it not have been inspired as a gentle memorial to his mother who'd died only six months earlier?

And why the horn in the first place? His publisher would only agree to the piece if he allowed an “alternate” version with a viola instead of a horn since, viola-jokes aside, there were more violists for family musicales than there would be horn-players. The same thing would happen almost 30 years later when his late Clarinet Sonatas also entered the world as Viola Sonatas despite originally being inspired by the brilliant playing of clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld for whom he'd composed them (as well as the Clarinet Trio and that indescribable Clarinet Quintet, another masterpiece of the chamber music repertoire), sounding so different when played with a viola (no matter how well) instead.

As far as I can tell, there is no mention of a famous horn player to inspire Brahms to write this trio in 1865, like the musician Josef Leutgeb for whom Mozart composed at least five concertos in the 1780s.

So why did Brahms choose to write a Horn Trio? Why not a Piano Trio (he had already written at least one of those)? He had already completed two Piano Quartets (the third, begun earlier, wasn't finished for another ten years), not to forget the unforgettable Piano Quintet, another masterpiece, published the previous year (it was originally a sonata for two pianos before it became a string quintet before Brahms decided it should really be a quintet for one piano and strings!).

Or, if he were writing a tribute to his mother and he was now the conductor of the finest choir in Vienna, why not a choral work? Ah, yes, well... there's the German Requiem (for a time, he considered calling it “A Human Requiem”) which would find its final form three years later when he added the last movement to be composed, the soprano solo setting the text “You now have sadness” and ending with “I will comfort you as one whom his mother comforts.”

Perhaps – and this is only a matter of conjecture since Brahms never mentioned the connection and would likely have scoffed at the suggestion (he usually brushed off any reference to his mother's death inspiring such music in the first place) – it is because, when Brahms was a child, his father played the old natural horn and taught his son Hannes how to play it as well (in addition to the piano, the boy also took cello lessons). There are few surviving references to his mother in the family history anyway, but perhaps there was some memory, something he recalled – did she like the way he played the horn? something he played on it that she especially enjoyed? – that made the connection a personal one, not just the idea “why, I think I'll write a horn trio”?

Brahms who loved his family now saw his family in a shambles: his father had left his mother and not long after that, coincidentally one assumes, she died. His elder sister Elise needed caring for but his younger brother Fritz was not so inclined and so it was Hannes, writing from Vienna, who made what arrangements she needed and sent money to her. Not long after their mother died, he and Fritz (never close) had a further falling out and rarely communicated.

Perhaps the loss of his family is more behind the Horn Trio than just the death of his mother? Again, pure conjecture – but what goes through one's mind in the quiet times of such situations?

Who has not been there, metaphorically in Brahms' shoes, receiving a long and loving letter only to find out it is too late to respond? Such news rocks the very foundation of our world and those things you think of, things you should have done, could have done, perhaps put off doing, maybe recalling an argument or something that could have been better handled, even a chance to say good-bye, continue to haunt us. But now it is too late.

In October, then, back from Baden-Baden with a completed Horn Trio in his suitcase, Brahms receives a three-page letter from his usually tongue-tied father. In a long round-about way, Johann Jakob introduces Karoline Schnack, the woman he has cautiously asked to marry him (he is 59; she is 18 years younger). Brahms, fortunately, took the news gladly and developed a warm relationship with his new step-mother, soon even calling her “Mother.” Her own son, also named Fritz, with his frail health was a special concern for her and, calling him “the Second Fritz,” Hannes in his quiet generosity saw to it he was also cared for.

Clara Schumann, of course, had dealt with the death of her husband Robert nine years earlier, kept from seeing him during the last years of his life after that horrible afternoon when he suddenly threw himself off that bridge and was then locked away in an asylum outside Bonn which might as well have been half a world away.

Later, Brahms had returned to Vienna after his mother's funeral when Clara wrote to call off an intended visit. He'd half-expected the news, he replied, joking how he'd even cleaned up his room, bought new coffee cups, cleaned the plates and ordered fireworks and preserves (!). That she was well and “bracing [her]self with all sorts of edifying things such as philosophy” was, however, good to hear, even if he meant it ironically.

“The world is round,” he continued, “and it must turn; what God does is well done; consider the lilies [the equivalent of “stop to smell the roses”], etc; or better still, don't think at all, for things cannot be altered and a wise man repents of nothing.”

– Dick Strawser

Monday, October 31, 2016

Turn the Corner and it's November - and the Escher Quartet!

Who: The Escher Quartet
What: Mozart's Quartet in B-flat, K.589 – Bartók's Quartet No. 2 – Dvořák's Quartet in G, Op.106
When : Wednesday, Nov. 2nd, at 8pm (with a pre-concert talk by Dick Strawser at 7:15)
Where: Market Square Church in downtown Harrisburg (parking in the adjacent parking garage free w/your “get-out-of-garage” ticket picked up at the concert)

The Escher Quartet (photo by Sophie Zhiu)

Stuff happens.

And when you plan your career a couple years in advance – like concert tours and important milestone events – sudden stuff can be the worst.

And so it happened, barely two weeks before our November concert, that the Heath Quartet was forced to cancel their American Tour – including our concert and their Carnegie Hall debut – for reasons of health! Some scrambling ensued with flurries of e-mails and phone calls while MSC directors Peter Sirotin and Ya-Ting Chang were hosting MSC's 35th Anniversary Trip to London, resulting in finding another string quartet who could fit our date into their schedule!

And not just any quartet. While I was eager to hear the Heath Quartet which has been making quite a name for itself in England – especially with their performances of Michael Tippett's five string quartets, which I love (the 5th was on their program, here) – we will hear instead the Escher Quartet, a quartet that has been “in residence” with the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center where I've been following them for the past few years. They have won numerous prizes of their own, and they're currently on tour around New York State, able to fit us in between Stony Brook University (where they were joined this past Friday by Eugene Drucker of the Emerson Quartet) and Vassar College (next Sunday). To accommodate their current tour's repertoire, we've traded in “Middle Haydn” for “Late Mozart” and Bartók instead of Tippett: the Dvořák Op.106 remains as the sole survivor.

M.C. Escher: Relativity (1953)
Formed in 2005 and taking their name from the Dutch graphic artist M.C. Escher (indeed, the life of a touring musician must seem like walking into one of Escher's dimensionally-challenged lithographs), they've been championed by the Emerson Quartet and have appeared as “Season Artists” of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, frequently streaming concerts live on the Internet (and available on-demand through YouTube). In residence at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, they will be returning to Wigmore Hall in London and to Tel Aviv this season as well as touring China with the CMS. In 2013 they were one of the few ensembles to win an Avery Fisher Career Grant.

Here are a few selected videos with the Escher Quartet, beginning with the Quartetsatz of Franz Schubert (the opening movement of what could be called The “Unfinished” Quartet):

Since they're playing one of Mozart's “Prussian” Quartets on our program, here one of Mozart's “Haydn” Quartets, the first movement of the D Minor, K.421:

And while personnel changes can also be listed among “stuff that happens,” here's a Chamber Music Society program from Lincoln Center (where they were performing “in the round”) with their previous cellist in the finale of Prokofiev's 2nd Quartet:

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Since I'll be giving the pre-concert talk at 7:15 – and focusing more on how these composers developed their creative voices – here's a sample of each work to give you an idea of those “voices” by looking at how each one handled the “dance movement” in their quartets. In this case, a courtly 18th Century Minuet; the 19th Century replacement with a “scherzo” (literally, “joke”) often a more earthy dance and, in nationalist composers like Dvořák, inspired by folk dances rather than courtly ones; and then a 20th Century dance (Bartók labeled it Allegro molto capriccioso though “caprice” remains in the ear of the beholder) in which folk music starts – at least in Bartók's later style – to morph into something more abstract than the recollection of pleasant wanderings amongst the countryfolk.

Mozart Minuet from K.589:

Dvořák Scherzo from Op. 106 (an energetic folk-like dance contrasting with gentler, more lyric contrasting dances, not unlike the “dumki” which was one of his favorite dance forms, constantly contrasting sections of energy and lyricism):

Bartók's 2nd Quartet, middle movement – Bartók had only recently discovered true Hungarian folk music. Before, most people thought the Hungarian Dances and Rhapsodies of Brahms and Liszt were based on folk songs but they're actually what we'd call the “urban popular music” of the Gypsies (who are not, technically, of Hungarian origin). But here, Bartók uses folk ideas he'd collected while traveling further afield – specifically, Northern Africa! Again, strong contrasts often alternate between fragments and more complete segments with one section sounding more like a whoozy (and decidedly European) dance band tune. It ends in a whirlwind.

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The idea of attending a concert can be augmented by additional opportunities to enrich the listening experience. Of course, many people go to concerts to relax, because they enjoy classical music and you don't need to do anything beyond that just to enjoy a performance, whether you listen to how you enjoy the music or how the composer creates what it is you're enjoying or how the performers interpret what the composer wrote so you could enjoy it.

There are program notes by Lucy Murray which I always highly recommend, giving you some background about the composer's life, a description of what to expect with the work itself and perhaps critical responses to the music, how the music was received by listeners when it was “new music,” all bringing you different insights into what you'll be hearing.

A pre-concert talk may focus on different aspects of the program ranging from the “heads-up” variety with musical examples of “what to listen for” to deeper background and a more intense examination of the composers' lives and the music they'd composed at that point in history. Sometimes, it may be a different way to listen to, say, a familiar piece or, with an unfamiliar one (“new music” or just “new to you”), ways of processing things to make them more accessible.

Taking the opportunity to experience anything that's available to you may enhance the “experience” of attending a concert, making the “listening” more enjoyable in the long run.

Years ago, a friend of mine argued against the need for such things (“why can't I just listen?”), one of the problems he had with the “overly technical” demands made by classical music on its listeners. He told me they don't need to do this for a football game, so why do it with classical music?

Of course, when classical music becomes as commonplace and ubiquitous as sports in this country – will weathermen preface their forecasts by saying “it's a great night for going to a concert”? – that may be, but then I point out those interminable pre-game panels on TV broadcasts where experts discuss the various teams' and their individual players' stats and past histories, not to mention the post-game wrap up where experts analyze the game's play-by-play highlights. (At least some people live in towns where they still can read a review of a concert they might have attended).

Just be thankful we don't talk over the music to tell you “and now Lapointe's taken the theme and runs off into the key of – wait, is that E-flat Major? What's he doing in E-flat Major?!”

(...with all due respect for Peter Schickele's classic “concert-casting” skit with Beethoven's 5th, “New Horizons in Music Appreciation.”)

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Curiously, this program features two “next-to-last” quartets by Mozart and Dvořák, therefore presumably at their peak of creativity, as well as one of the earlier quartets before Bartók reached his stride with his most famous quartets of the 1920s and '30s.

Mozart composed his three “Prussian” Quartets in 1790 for a visit to Berlin, hoping to find a reasonable gig at the court of the King of Prussia (or at least make some money in the process) – in the fairly short long run, he failed at both (considering he died the next year) – and there's no coincidence that, given the king's skill as an amateur cellist, the cello is strongly featured in these works. Rather than just being stuck playing the harmonic bass-line with the occasional tune thrown in, very often the cello plays the melody in its uppermost register (unfamiliar territory for the typical chamber musician of the day).

Given the role the Emerson Quartet has played in the Escher's history, here's the Emerson Quartet describing what it's like to record these works. The clip begins with the finale from the 2nd Quartet, K.589, and concludes with the finale from the 3rd, K.590.

With different quartets to play each individual movement, let's begin with the Avalon Quartet who performed here in Market Square Concerts' 2014-15 Season with the first movement, Allegro:

For the slow movement, Larghetto, here's the Hagen Quartet:

Another take on the Minuet from the Amadeus Quartet which would seem to be a natural selection for a performance of Mozart:

And then, for the finale, the Quatour Mosaïques:

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While you could listen to these in any order, I've chosen to move along chronologically, from Mozart in 1790 to Dvořák more than a century later, a quartet he began sketching while still living and teaching at the National Conservatory in New York (having composed his “American” Quartet on a summer holiday in 1893), leaving town mid-semester in '95 when the school's money ran out and it couldn't meet his paycheck. He didn't actually commit this new quartet to paper until the fall after he'd re-acclimated himself in Prague, dating the last measure December 9th, 1895. By the end of the month, he'd also put the finishing touches on his last quartet, the A-flat Major, Op.105. In case you missed that, Quartet No. 13 is Op.106 and Quartet No. 14 is Op.105. It's not that math wasn't Dvořák's long-suit: that's just the order he decided to publish them in. By the way, in between his departure from New York and these two home-grown quartets comes the Cello Concerto, Op.104.

Once again, here's the Emerson Qt to play the entire Dvořák Quartet No. 13 in G Major, Op.106, in four separate clips:

1st Movement, Allegro moderato (“moderately fast”)

2nd Movement, Adagio ma non troppo (“not too slow”)

3rd Movement, Molto Vivace (“very fast”), a scherzo with two trios (here, slower interludes):

4th Movement, Allegro con fuoco (“lively with fire”) after a brief slow introduction:

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When Bartók composed his 2nd quartet (begun 20 years after Dvořák's last quartets, but almost a century ago, now), he had already written some significant works but, being a “modern composer” in conservative (and Germanic-oriented) Budapest, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, he was having trouble getting anything performed. So far, he had not attained anything like international recognition: in fact, if you've heard any of the recent pieces by Bartók performed here in Central PA in the past few months – Ya-Ting Chang & Stuart Malina playing his “Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion” at Messiah College for a September 11th Memorial Concert, or the Harrisburg Symphony's opening concert with Sara Davis Buechner and one of Bartók's last almost-completed pieces, the 3rd Piano Concerto – it's difficult to argue Bartók had ever attained the level of international fame he has since, even though he is still often overlooked as one of the major “original voices” of the 20th Century.

Still, in this early work, written during the years of World War I – it was composed between 1915-1917 but not premiered until 1918 and published finally two years later – one hears different influences as a young composer absorbs his past to create what will, later, become recognizable as “Bartók's Voice.”

The first movement might remind one that, in 1907, Bartók discovered the music of Claude Debussy whose “impressionism” – and its ambiguous tritone interval – helped find a different way of creating a sound-world outside the standard classic tonal system.

The second movement, as I mentioned above, is a wild folk-dance, though rather than identifying himself as a Hungarian Nationalist (he refused to speak German at home in opposition to the Austrian domination of his native Hungary), he incorporated ideas he'd found on a folk-music collecting trip to Northern Africa, his trip to Algeria in 1913 his last field-trip before the War. While he labeled this “Allegro molto capriccioso,” a compelling performance emphasizing the hypnotic drum-beats of its rhythms might seem more “barbaric” than “capricious.”

This, by the way, is the voice we most automatically recognize as Bartók's: the other movements strike us today as "derivative" of his early influences. 

The third movement is an odd and unsettling contrast: keep in mind, this was written in the midst of war. His friend Zoltan Kodály saw this whole quartet as a series of “life episodes” with the brooding intensity of the ending as “suffering.” As far as a 19th Century German would've been concerned – tonality aside – this would have been the slow movement, requiring a finale of whatever emotional impact to conclude the work satisfactorily.

Here's a 1961 recording with the Hungarian Quartet, accompanied with the score:

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Perhaps, after that – and with intermission in between – the pleasant world of Dvořák, a composer once again happy to be back in familiar territory after years of unsettling adventure in the Wilds of the New World, makes a more satisfying conclusion to a concert as we head home after our musical experience.

- Dick Strawser

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Rebel & "Period Instruments" on the Rise: A Journey Into the Baroque

Rebel (with a tree)
The New Season is upon us – and not just Autumn: Labor Day has passed, the kids are back in school (for that matter, Rosh Hoshana begins Oct. 2nd) – and the 35th Anniversary Season of Market Square Concerts begins this Saturday, the 1st of October, at Market Square Church beginning at 8:00!

While you're used to string quartets and pianists on chamber music programs, we begin the season with Rebel, one of the much-talked about “early music ensembles” known for its vitality, clarity and compelling performances. They're bringing a program of Baroque music from 1617 to 1747 to Harrisburg with familiar names like Vivaldi, Corelli and Telemann and less well known names like William Boyce as well as unfamiliar if not unknown names like Biagio Marini, Johann Heinrich Schmelzer, Francesco Mancini and Giovanni Antonio Pandolfi Mealli who, if they didn't have their 15 minutes of international fame in 17th Century Europe, were among those numerous court composers producing a vast amount of music for their music-loving employers, aristocrats and churches across Italy and Germany at a time when musicians – like their better-known counterparts Bach and Handel – found a way to practice their art and make a living at it, too.

Here, the ensemble Rebel plays the preludio from Arcangelo Corelli's Sonata in G Major, Op. 4 no. 10, from their 2008 recording on the Dorian Label:

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In the early-1960s, I remember hearing recordings on the radio by an orchestra considered something of a novelty: playing music from the Baroque Era on instruments that this music would have originally been played on, instruments that for one reason or another would have long been replaced by ones we tend to call “modern” instruments. While still called trumpets or oboes or even violins, how these instruments were made today is a far cry from the instruments Handel would have heard play his Water Music in 1717: trumpets didn't have valves then; oboes didn't have as many keys; violins (themselves a fairly new instrument on the scene) were played with gut strings and the bows were completely different. Instead of flutes, there were recorders – which to a modern music lover of the 1960s meant those annoying things relegated to children's education programs that looked like a cross between prototype of a clarinet (without a reed) and a flutophone, despite its fine ancient heritage.

The problem was, they were mostly out-of-tune, unreliable in pitch, impossible to balance and would later remind me of the less than legendary Portsmouth Sinfonia...

My initial response – that these instruments should not be played by people who should not be playing instruments period – was that this too would pass and we can go back to listening to satisfying renderings of this great music performed by our great orchestras.

But once musicians figured out how exactly to play these instruments properly and play them in a musical manner with a sense of historical accuracy about them (whatever that might be to a listener today), suddenly we could hear things in this music no one for two hundred years had noticed: not the least of which was, after all, the music!

This was not music meant to be played by beastly over-extended philharmonics in cavernous concert halls: and as much as many of my generation grew up hearing Handel's Water Music in Sir Hamilton Harty's delightful arrangement, it was, after all, an arrangement.

And for every agony those early recordings assaulted my eardrums with, there was the very real question, now, of “just what would this music sound like on the instruments these composers wrote it for?”

And thus, with a little historical research and a lot of practice, the “period instrument ensemble” became a world of its own.

Considering hearing Bach's Goldberg Variations on a grand piano is still an “arrangement” even if none of the notes are changed, there is also a lot of now-familiar Baroque music we have come to know through some kind of arrangement to better fit the modern instruments we have at hand.

Even if Vivaldi wrote a flute concerto and we hear it performed on a flute, Vivaldi wrote it for a wooden flute, not a silver one; and for that matter, rather than what is technically a “transverse” flute – with the instrument held the way we normally expect a modern flute to be held – it might have been written for a recorder (around 1700, the terms were interchangeable). So yes, that would affect the “sound” of the music, depending on which instrument is used.

But was this a major concern to composers back in The Day? Apparently not, because a trio sonata you might see played by two violins “and continuo” (we'll get to that in a minute) could also be played by two flutes (or recorders) or a combination of the two.

As for that term “continuo,” this is the standard Baroque catch-all term for the “accompaniment.” This normally consists of two aspects: two instruments, a single-line “melody” instrument like a cello which plays the bass-line of the accompaniment, and a chord-playing instrument like a harpsichord (the precursor of the piano) which fills in the harmony.

This is why – illogically – it takes four musicians to play a trio sonata: two instruments accompanied by The Continuo which consists of two instruments.

And if you're playing flutes instead of violins, you should use a bassoon instead of a cello in the continuo to match the woodwind sound. Also, if you're playing in a church, you could use an organ to play the harmony (probably not the big pipe-organ: they had little “portatif” (small and portable) organs for smaller sounds and venues). Or, hey, why not a lute? In the opera pit, they might use “all of the above” for various situations and combinations.

In fact, Bach's wonderful collection of Preludes and Fugues known as The Well-Tempered Clavier, usually heard played by pianists or harpsichordists these days, was originally composed for the Clavichord, a kind of small desk-top version of a keyboard instrument that could barely be heard across a room if somebody sneezed. Yet no one I know has ever complained that that Prelude & Fugue on the program was not played on a clavichord...

Basically, what exactly played the part was not crucial. The important thing was that it was played.

In fact, all I can say is, unless you're planning on pursuing a doctorate in Baroque Performance Practice, don't worry about it. Just sit back and enjoy the music – that is, really, why musicians play it and music-lovers listen to it. For all the technical details that can inflame an otherwise nerdy discussion of the finer points of historical accuracy and the reasons one may pursue a particular presentation of it, it all comes down to “does it succeed as music?”

(And let's not even get into ornamentation, but I digress...)

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These days when you go to a standard chamber recital or orchestra concert, you don't hear much actual Baroque music – a symphony orchestra might play an all-Baroque and -Classical concert but even then, while the orchestra is pared down from the 75-100 players we're used to with Beethoven or Mahler, it's still way more musicians than Bach or Handel would normally have expected.

A lot of this is the result of dedicated study, digging through dusty archives to find not only the music itself but accounts about how it was performed. Keep in mind that, until Mendelssohn conducted Bach's St. Matthew Passion in 1829 (only some 79 years after Bach's death), most concert-goers had never heard Bach's music (except the academically minded composers studying counterpoint who could track down a copy of The Well-Tempered Clavier). And that before 1939, there had probably not been an all-Vivaldi concert since Vivaldi died in 1741 (in 1952 there were 2 recordings of The Four Seasons; in 2011, one catalogue listed over 1,000).

And so, here comes Rebel.

the ensemble, Rebel (photo credit: Chris Fanning)

These confederates with a cause, standing up to decades of library dust and academic debate, take their name from a French Baroque composer named Jean-Féry Rebel. Hence, in the French manner, it is pronounced rrreh-BELL.

And after you hear them – you can probably tell by looking at some of their publicity photos – this is not your grandfather's “period instrument ensemble.”

You might catch a glimmer of their reasoning behind this choice by listening to a piece Rebel composed in 1737, his version of “The Creation” story set as a ballet. Considering Haydn's famous oratorio and its murky C minor prelude representing “Chaos,” imagine, if you will, this sound breaking over Paris some sixty years earlier:
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Chaos, indeed! Even just the opening few seconds will be enough to make you ask, not “how did this sound to listeners in 1737” but what the hell was their reaction to hearing that chord!?!

While some of the names on their program will be familiar to the general music-lover – Vivaldi, Corelli and Telemann – there are names on here that you may never have encountered before on a live concert program in Harrisburg (does that make it “new” music?). Even William Boyce, more familiar as a contemporary of Handel, is generally known only by his eight little “symphonies.” But Mancini (that's Francesco, not Henry), Biagio Marini, Pandolfi and Schmelzer are proof that there are other composers from the era than Bach and Handel – in fact, not only the generations before Bach and Handel but generations of composers who filled in the time between Monteverdi in 1600 and Bach's death in 1750.

I'm guessing that for many of us, this may be an experience of discovery, no matter how old the music is.

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Joined by Matthias Maute, one of the foremost performers of the recorder and the traverso or “transverse” flute, Rebel opens their program with a concerto by Antonio Vivaldi, a musician and teacher who conducted an orchestra of orphans in Venice and who was, in addition, a priest with uncharacteristically red hair (hence the nickname “The Red Priest” which had nothing to do with his political leanings).

Having gleaned through more YouTube videos than I would care to complain about trying to find a recording of the one on the program that fits the ensemble, here's a performance (uncredited) which will give you an idea of “one way” to perform Vivaldi but will not be exactly like the performance you'll hear Saturday night.
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More to the point, here is a performance by Matthias Maute playing the recorder in his own variations on themes by George Frederic Handel – his aria “Lascia ch'io pianga” from his opera Rinaldo and concluding with what can only be described as one of Handel's Greatest Hits, the keyboard piece known as “The Harmonious Blacksmith.” This was recorded this past July at an Early Music Society Recorder Workshop in San Francisco.
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And here are members of Rebel with Herr Maute playing one of the “orchestral” works of the era – with eight players – the third of the Op. 3 Concertos by George Frederic Handel:
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- Dick Strawser

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Market Square Concert’s 35th anniversary season begins on Saturday, October 1, at 8 pm at Market Square Church. Rebel with Recorder and Flute virtuoso, Matthias Maute, will offer an unforgettable journey through 17th and 18th century European music of country, court and chapel.

Tickets are $35, $30 for seniors, $5 for college students and free for school-age students with a $10 ticket available for one accompanying adult. For tickets, visit the website, call 717 214-ARTS or 717 221-9599. Remaining tickets will be available at the door.

Hailed by the New York Times as “Sophisticated and Beguiling” and praised by the Los Angeles Times for their “astonishingly vital music-making”, the New York-based Baroque ensemble REBEL has earned an impressive international reputation, enchanting diverse audiences by their unique style and their virtuosic, highly expressive and provocative approach to the Baroque and Classical repertoire.

REBEL was originally formed in The Netherlands in l99l. In the Fifth International Competition for Ensembles in Early Music, Utrecht 1991 (now the Van Wassenaer Competition) REBEL was awarded first prize. Since then the ensemble has performed at European venues such as the Konzerthaus (Vienna), La Chapelle Royale (Versailles), as well as Library of Congress, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and the Cleveland Museum of Art. In 2005 REBEL appeared in collaboration with Renée Fleming at Carnegie Hall to critical acclaim.

The ensemble has recorded for all the major European national radio networks and has been showcased in performance and interview on BBC’s Radio 3. In 1999 REBEL became the first and only period instrument ensemble to be awarded an artists’ residency at National Public Radio.

Matthias Maute has achieved international renown as one of the finest recorder and baroque flute players of his generation, and as a composer and director. His first prize win in the soloist category at the prestigious Early Music Competition in Bruges, Belgium in 1990 set the course for a diverse and distinguished career spanning over two decades. In December 2008 Mr. Maute made his Lincoln Center début at the Rose Theater in New York City as a featured guest with the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Mr. Maute has made some twenty recordings on the Analekta, Vanguard Classics, Bella Musica, Dorian, Bridge and Atma Classique labels. Currently he is a professor at McGill University and at Université de Montréal.

The concert is sponsored by Dr. and Mrs. William Murray. The season sponsor is Capital BlueCross. A resident company of Whitaker Center for Science and the Arts, Market Square Concerts also receives support from the Cultural Enrichment Fund and the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts. Complete information on Market Square Concerts’ 2016-17 season is available at the website