Friday, November 15, 2024

November 23 and 24, 2024: Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto


Laura Jackson, Reno Phil Music Director and Conductor, talks with Chris Morrison about the Reno Phil's “Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto” concerts, the second concerts of the orchestra's 2024-25 Classix season, on November 23 and 24, 2024. The music on the program includes the Overture to La forza del destino by Giuseppe Verdi, the Negro Folk Symphony by William Dawson, and the Piano Concerto No. 2 by Sergei Rachmaninoff, with piano soloist Sara Davis Buechner.


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Tuesday, September 17, 2024

The 2024-25 Classix Season and Sept. 28/29, 2024: Beethoven's Eroica


Laura Jackson, Reno Phil Music Director and Conductor, and Aaron Doty, the President and CEO of the Reno Phil, discuss the concerts of the 2024-25 Classix season, including the season-opening performances, "Beethoven's Eroica," on September 28 and 19, 2024.


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Sunday, April 14, 2024

April 20 and 21, 2024: Mahler's Fifth Symphony


Laura Jackson, Reno Phil Music Director and Conductor, and Jennifer Tibben, director of the Reno Phil Chorus, talk with Chris Morrison about the Reno Phil's “Mahler's Fifth Symphony” concerts, the final concerts of the orchestra's 2023-24 season, on April 20 and 21, 2024. The music includes the Symphony No. 5 by Gustav Mahler as well as the Gloria by Francis Poulenc.


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Monday, March 18, 2024

March 23 and 24, 2024: Gershwin Celebration


Laura Jackson, Reno Phil Music Director and Conductor, and Mark Clague, Professor of Music at the University of Michigan, Director of the University's Gershwin Initiative, and Editor-in-Chief of the George and Ira Gershwin Critical Edition, talk with Chris Morrison about the Reno Phil's “Gershwin Celebration” concerts on March 23 and 24, 2024. The music includes Maurice Ravel's Boléro; Spaghetti Western by Michael Daugherty, with English horn soloist Jordan Pyle; and two pieces by George Gershwin, An American in Paris and the Overture to Primrose.


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Tuesday, February 20, 2024

February 24 and 25, 2024: Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony


Reno Phil music director and conductor Laura Jackson, composer Paul Novak, violin soloist Charlotte Marckx, and Tacie Moessner of the Davidson Institute for Talent Development speak with Chris Morrison about the Reno Phil's concerts "Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony" on February 24 and 25, 2024. The concerts include longing is an aviary by Paul Novak, the Violin Concerto No. 4 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and the Symphony No. 5 by Dmitri Shostakovich.

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Monday, January 22, 2024

January 27 and 28, 2024: Spanish Nights


Guest conductor Ramón Tebar talks about his concerts "Spanish Nights" with the Reno Phil on January 27 and 28, 2024, which include the Four Dances from Estancia by Alberto Ginastera, the Fantasía para un gentilhombre by Joaquín Rodrigo, and the ballet The Three-Cornered Hat by Manuel de Falla.


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November 7/8, 2020: Dare We Dance?


In this episode of Inside the Music: The Reno Phil Podcast, Reno Phil Music Director and Conductor Laura Jackson, harpist Marina Roznitovsky Oster, and dancer Martina Young speak with Chris Morrison about the second concert of the Reno Phil's 2020-21 season. Titled "Dare We Dance?", the concert is a celebration of dance featuring music by Claude Debussy, Camille Saint-Saens, Osvaldo Golijov, and Jennifer Higdon.


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Introduction to the Podcast


Chris Morrison provides a short introduction to Inside the Music: The Reno Phil Podcast.


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Thursday, November 19, 2009

Festival update and some blog news

We’ve just posted at our website all the information on our 2009 Nevada Chamber Music Festival, coming up December 28-31. Check out the great performers, including both longtime favorites and some great newcomers, and the nice mix of repertoire. There are a few performances I’m particularly looking forward to – the opening evening’s Tchaikovsky Trio, the Brahms Sextet on evening #2, the Busoni Violin Sonata No. 1 with Buswell and Winn – but every concert is pretty much guaranteed to provide thrills. We’ve got a variety of ticket discounts and special pricing arrangements, all of which are spelled out at the website. Purchase your tickets online here, or give us a call at (775) 348-9413.

Speaking of the website, some nice surprises are going to be coming to our site in the next few weeks, so check in regularly.

While I’m writing, I might also mention that Alex Ross, one of today’s great writers on classical music, has just started a new blog at the New Yorker website, Unquiet Thoughts. It supplements his other blog, The Rest is Noise, which will now be devoted to contents related to his books, particularly his great history of twentieth century music of the same title. Ross’s regular New Yorker columns are essential reading for classical music fans. Links to both his blogs can be seen in the right hand column of this blog.

In a recent post at Unquiet Thoughts, Ross pointed to a very happy development – the initiation of a blog by John Adams, one of my very favorite composers. At first glance the blog, wonderfully titled Hell Mouth, will maintain the levels of intelligence, candor, and humor Adams exhibited in his very entertaining autobiography, Hallelujah Junction, which is just about to come out in paperback form. Check it out.

Monday, October 12, 2009

October 17/18 Program Notes

George Frideric Handel

b. February 23, 1685, Halle, Germany
d. April 14, 1759, London, England

George Frideric Handel is one of the most beloved composers of music’s Baroque era. He held early posts in Germany as church organist and violinist before moving to Italy to learn about Italian opera at first hand. His successes there attracted the attention of the Elector of Hanover, who brought him back to Germany as his court composer. When the Elector became King George I of England in 1714, Handel followed him to London. The Italian-language operas Handel subsequently wrote for the London stage – Giulio Cesare, Alcina, and many more – made him famous, as did his concertos and works he wrote for the King like Water Music. But when the audiences for Italian operas diminished by the early 1740s, Handel won even greater fame composing religious oratorios like Messiah (the source of the ever-popular “Hallelujah” Chorus), Israel in Egypt, and Judas Maccabeus. Decades after Handel’s death, Ludwig van Beethoven, who thought Handel the greatest of all composers, said of him “I would bare my head and kneel at his grave.”

Concerto Grosso in G major, Op. 6/1

Composed: 1739
Duration: 11 minutes

The concerto grosso form, so popular in the early eighteenth century, was marked by the contrast between a small group of soloists (the concertino) and the entire orchestra (the tutti). For many years the most popular such works were the twelve Concertos, Op. 6 of 1714 by Italian composer Arcangelo Corelli. During his early years in Italy, Handel got to know and work with Corelli, and the influence of the older composer’s work was evident when Handel finally wrote his own concertos. The twelve Op. 6 Concerti – officially titled “Twelve Grand Concertos in Seven Parts” – were composed in one month late in 1739, and quickly became some of the most popular orchestral works of their time. Their reputation hasn’t flagged: in recent years The New Grove Dictionary of Music has ranked Handel’s Op. 6 with Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos as “the twin peaks of the Baroque concerto.”

The first concerto of Op. 6 is in five movements. It opens with a stately, slightly swaggering A tempo giusto, featuring brief conversations between the two solo violins. The lively second movement is propelled by quick repeating notes in the continuo accompaniment. The meditative Adagio moves between elegance and sorrow, and the Concerto concludes with a pair of Allegros: the first contrapuntal in texture, the second in an energetic and insouciant 6/8 rhythm.

Dmitri Shostakovich

b. September 25, 1906, St. Petersburg
d. August 9, 1975, Moscow

There are many who now call Dmitri Shostakovich the greatest composer of the twentieth century, his music a moving personal testament as well as a portrait of some of the seminal events of the century. His early works, such as one of the most accomplished First Symphonies ever (written at age 19 for his graduation from the Leningrad Conservatory), betray the influence of his fellow Russian composers Prokofiev and Stravinsky, as well as a brash and often sardonic sense of humor. That brashness could get Shostakovich in trouble, as with the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, which outraged Stalin and led to serious criticism in the Russian press. Works like the Fifth and Seventh Symphonies, the latter inspired by the 1941 German invasion and known as the “Leningrad,” brought him worldwide renown. He continued to suffer from artistic repression in his homeland, however, including the famous 1948 government denunciation of Shostakovich and other prominent Russian composers. Some of his subsequent music sought to curry favor with the Soviet government, although he continued to write more serious works “for the desk drawer.” His last decade was marked by ill health, and an increased level of melancholy pervades the music of those years.

Chamber Symphony in F major, Op. 73a (after the String Quartet No. 3)

Composed: 1946
Duration: 32 minutes

The fifteen string quartets of Shostakovich comprise one of the most, if not the most, impressive bodies of such works by any composer since Beethoven. They are comparatively late works in his output: the String Quartet No. 1 was written after the Fifth Symphony, and nine of the quartets date to 1960 or later (as opposed to just four of the symphonies).

The String Quartet No. 3 was written in 1946, in the wake of the last work in Shostakovich’s symphonic trilogy of responses to World War II, Symphonies Nos. 7-9. The Symphony No. 9 of 1945 was at first intended to be a choral epic celebrating the Russian victory over Nazi Germany. What resulted, instead, was a much lighter work in what Shostakovich described as “a transparent, pellucid, and bright mood” that led to his censure by the Soviet hierarchy for the symphony’s “ideological weakness” and failure to “reflect the true spirit of the people of the Soviet Union.” Just after that censure, Shostakovich composed the Quartet No. 3, which was also denounced for its dark tone and ambiguous ending.

The orchestral arrangement of the quartet was made by Shostakovich’s friend and student Rudolf Barshai. Founding violist of both the Borodin and Tchaikovsky Quartets, Barshai (1924- ) has also won world renown as a conductor. He is regarded as an expert interpreter of Shostakovich’s symphonies, having recorded all fifteen and led the world premiere of the Symphony No. 14 in 1969. In 1955 Barshai founded the Moscow Chamber Orchestra, and it was for that group that he made, with Shostakovich’s approval, orchestrations of five of the composer’s string quartets (Nos. 1, 3, 4, 8, and 10). Barshai’s arrangement of the Quartet No. 3 calls for strings along with flute, oboe, English horn, clarinet, bassoon, and harp.

For the premiere performance of the Quartet No. 3, given in Moscow by the Beethoven Quartet (to whom the work is dedicated) in December 1946, Shostakovich created descriptive titles for the movements. Although they were never published and are seldom used nowadays, they do give a hint as to the character of the music:

I: “Calm unawareness of the future cataclysm”
II: “Rumblings of unrest and anticipation”
III: “The forces of war unleashed”
IV: “In memory of the dead”
V: “The eternal question: Why? And for what?”

The first movement strikes a light-hearted and playful tone (with an overlay of darker emotions), in a perfectly traditional sonata-allegro form complete with exposition repeat. The development section is contrapuntal, gaining intensity as it progresses. The tempo increases for the closing moments of the movement, culminating in a charming final cadence.

What was humorous in the first movement, however, turns acrid and menacing in the second, a grim waltz that moves unrelentingly to a peaceful but emotionally desolate coda. Rostislav Dubinsky, violinist of the Borodin Quartet, described the third movement as “the wild triumph of evil.” It is angry, violent music, somewhere between a scherzo and a march, and combining 3/4 and 2/4 time signatures. The fourth movement – in the form of a passacaglia, with its repeating bass line – opens with a forceful, intense declaration from the strings. The answers from the winds are lonely, even desolate. With the tread of a funeral march, the bassoon takes up the main theme over repeating notes from the strings.

The finale was described by Dubinsky as “a sorrowful and moving story about Shostakovich himself and his pain and anxiety about the future of humanity.” This is music that provides no easy answers to the anger and pain of the preceding movements. Low strings begin with a meandering theme punctuated by the harp. The mood briefly lightens as a jolly, sardonic tune in the winds takes over. The strings join in and the intensity builds, then recedes to near silence. The music seems to spiral downwards with a series of descending chords, drifting to an eerie coda with strums from the harp that may or may not provide some final consolation.

Ludwig van Beethoven

b. December 16, 1770, Bonn
d. March 26, 1827, Vienna

One short biographical sketch on Beethoven begins “The events of Beethoven’s life are the stuff of Romantic legend, evoking images of the solitary creator shaking his fist at Fate and finally overcoming it through a supreme effort of creative will.” Those biographical details, however, such as the deafness that plagued his last three decades of life, his stormy love affairs and his famous ill temper, are dwarfed by his artistic output, which is one of the monuments of music history. He literally mastered and transformed all the musical forms of his day, and extended the range and depth of expression available to composers. Beethoven was no Mozart-like prodigy, although even in his teens he was composing and playing in orchestras. But by his twenties – after studies with the likes of Franz Josef Haydn and Mozart’s legendary nemesis Antonio Salieri – both his compositions and piano playing had garnered considerable attention. It was around the age of 30 that Beethoven first noticed his encroaching deafness, but soon thereafter began the second, or “middle,” of his creative periods, which included groundbreaking works like the “Eroica” Symphony, the “Appassionata” and “Waldstein” piano sonatas, and the opera Fidelio. After a period of relative musical inactivity in the late 1810s, he entered his so-called “late” period, highlighted by the Ninth Symphony and the late string quartets and piano sonatas, in which his music gained a new, very personal depth and freedom.

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G major, Op. 58

Composed: 1805-1806
Duration: 34 minutes

By all accounts, Beethoven was one of the great pianists of his time. His pupil Carl Czerny vividly described his playing style: “Beethoven’s manner: characteristic and passionate strength, alternating with all the charms of a smooth cantabile, its outstanding feature … Beethoven drew entirely new and daring passages by the use of the pedal, by an exceptionally characteristic way of playing, particularly distinguished by a strict legato of the chords, and this created a new type of singing tone and many hitherto unimagined effects. His playing did not possess that clean and brilliant elegance of certain other pianists. On the other hand, it was spirited, grandiose and, especially in adagio, very full of feeling and romantic.”

Beethoven’s last public appearance as a pianist before deafness ended that part of his career was at the concert that introduced his Piano Concerto No. 4: the famous Akademie concert of December 22, 1808 at Vienna’s Theater an der Wien. This four and a half hour performance featured, along with the Concerto, the premieres of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies and the Choral Fantasy, along with three excerpts from the Mass in C major, the concert aria Ah! perfido, and a piano improvisation by Beethoven. The hall was unheated, the concert presented with insufficient rehearsals – from which Beethoven had been barred due to his demands and temper – and there were all manner of breakdowns and problems throughout the evening. The Piano Concerto No. 4 puzzled that first audience: they were taken aback by the work’s unconventionality, lyricism, and surprises in construction and content.

The first of those surprises comes at the very beginning of the work. Until this time, concertos had begun with the orchestra presenting the melodies that would provide the material for the rest of the movement. The soloist, if heard at all, would simply play along with the orchestra’s material. Only after that would the solo instrument be heard by itself, taking the lead as it elaborates on those same melodies. Here, however, Beethoven has the pianist open the concerto unaccompanied – and quietly! Those five soft measures introduce one of the first movement’s important melodies and a characteristic rhythm, three downbeats of equal value and a longer fourth note – a gentle cousin, perhaps, to the famous rhythm from the first movement of the Fifth Symphony (which Beethoven was also working on as he composed this concerto). Then the orchestra enters, also quietly, and in the distant key of B major, working its way back to G major while elaborating on that opening melody and a second, vaguely melancholy, phrase. A joyous outburst leads to the return of the piano which, with its arpeggios, trills, and other display, works its way once again, in tandem with the orchestra, through the main themes. Beethoven introduces some new ideas in the course of the subsequent development, including a couple of quiet, mysterious interludes in distant keys that provide additional contrast. The recapitulation of the main themes is much varied, and the solo cadenza features the same combination of lyricism, energy, and virtuoso display as the rest of the movement. After its gentle re-entry, the orchestra joins forces with the piano in the dramatic crescendo that closes the movement.

Beethoven has another surprise in store with the second movement, which takes the form of a dramatic dialogue between the orchestra and the piano. According to Beethoven biographer A.B. Marx, Franz Liszt, and others, this music relates to the legend of Orpheus taming the wild beasts with the music of his lyre. The orchestra is forceful, imperious, even frightening. The piano’s answers are conciliatory: gentle, songful, and richly harmonized. But as the movement progresses, the orchestra’s resolve seems to weaken, and it grows quieter. The piano’s cadenza includes some unusual chord progressions and trills that introduce a note of anxiety. Downward runs and more trills lead to a mysterious coda.

The quiet opening of the Rondo finale barely hints at the outburst of energy to come. Trumpets and timpani, which had not been heard in the first two movements, here assert their presence, and divided violas likewise lend to the richness of the orchestral sound. The rambunctious scurry of the main theme contrasts with the laid-back nobility of the second idea. After the energetic development of these ideas, marked by considerable bravura display from the soloist, the orchestra builds to a crescendo, leading to a short but forceful cadenza by the pianist. Once again, as in the first movement, the orchestra re-enters quietly. Trills from the piano lead to the decisive conclusion of this innovative and brilliant concerto.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

September Program Notes

Franz Josef Haydn

b. March 31, 1732, Rohrau-on-the-Leitha, Austria
d. May 31, 1809, Vienna

Along with Mozart and Beethoven, Franz Josef Haydn is one of the most significant composers of the Classical era (roughly 1750 to 1820). Sometimes referred to as the “Father” of the symphony and string quartet, Haydn’s remarkable catalog of works – over one thousand works including 104 symphonies – is one of the largest produced by any composer. His music’s distinctive combination of elegance and earthiness, its memorable tunes, skillful construction, and robust humor have all made Haydn one of the most beloved of composers. His career took off in 1761 when he entered the employ of the wealthy Esterházy family. For the next three decades Haydn worked under Princes Paul Anton and Nikolaus Esterházy, directing their orchestra and composing remarkable amounts of music for them. In the early 1780s Haydn befriended Mozart, becoming one of his most enthusiastic patrons and friends. Haydn’s growing fame led to further opportunities, including the two trips to London in 1791-2 and 1794-5 that sealed his reputation and produced works like the twelve “London” symphonies and the oratorios The Creation and The Seasons.

Symphony No. 94 in G major “Surprise”
Composed: 1791
Duration: 24 minutes

Within weeks of his separation from the Esterházy family in September 1790, Haydn received a visit at his new Vienna home from Johann Peter Salomon, a violinist and impresario who had been working for the last decade in London. Haydn’s music was already quite popular in England, and Salomon saw great possibilities in a series of London concerts at which new Haydn works would be premiered. The composer was nearly sixty, hadn’t traveled extensively, and was considering other offers (one, from King Ferdinand IV of Naples, greatly attracted him). But the adventure, and the significant sum of money Salomon offered, won him over, and Haydn arrived at Dover on New Year’s Day, 1791. Over the next eighteen months, Haydn composed and presented his Symphonies Nos. 93-98 for wildly enthusiastic London audiences. He then returned to Vienna for a couple of years – during which time he gave some music lessons to the young Beethoven – but returned to England for another series of concerts in early 1794.

The first of Salomon’s three wildly successful concert seasons got started in March, and the Symphony No. 94 was premiered under Haydn’s direction on March 23, 1792, in the middle of the second season. The Morning Herald critic wrote the following day, “The Room was crowded last night ... A new composition from such a man as HAYDN is a great event in the history of music. His novelty of last night was a grand Overture, the subject of which was remarkably simple, but extended to vast complication, exquisitly [sic] modulated and striking in effect. Critical applause was fervid and abundant.”

The symphony opens tenderly, with a genial, gently rocking main theme that builds up quite a head of steam as it is developed. As is the case so frequently with Haydn, this one theme provides the base for everything that follows in the movement. The recapitulation of the theme is really more of an extension of its development. There is also a striking passage for the woodwinds just before the movement's ending.

The symphony’s nickname derives from the justly famous second movement, a set of variations on a sweet, naïve tune. As the melody spins itself out, it gets quieter and quieter, dying to near silence — and then a sudden loud chord erupts from the entire orchestra. There are several theories as to why Haydn inserted that “surprise” (which was actually an afterthought, and doesn’t appear in his original manuscript). One account tells us that Haydn may have said, “This will make the ladies jump!” He may have been thinking, too, of the elderly gentlemen he saw in his audiences who, lulled by their heavy dinners and a few too many drinks, routinely dozed off once the music had begun. Also, with the overwhelming success of the Salomon/Haydn concerts, a rival concert series under the direction of composer Ignaz Pleyel (one of Haydn's former students) had begun. On one occasion Haydn admitted that he included the “surprise” not to startle the audience, but simply to make the work memorable in the face of his competition. Whatever the reason, the “surprise” is just one of the delights of this movement, which features variations on the main theme by turn stormy and dramatic, sweetly decorated by the woodwinds, and propelled forward by trumpets and timpani. The movement's quiet, poignant conclusion is rather a surprise in itself.

An aggressive minuet follows, with a graceful middle section for strings joined by a solo bassoon. Haydn is well on his way here from the courtly minuet typical in symphonies of his own time to the more assertive Scherzo found in symphonies from Beethoven on. The symphony concludes with a sparkling, propulsive Allegro di molto finale; this, and other finales in the 12 “London” symphonies, calls for truly virtuosic playing from the strings — Salomon's players in London must have been a formidable group indeed.

Lowell Liebermann

b. February 22, 1961, New York City, New York

With some one hundred works to his credit, Lowell Liebermann is one of the most frequently performed and recorded of living American composers. Among his works are two operas, two symphonies, three piano concertos – the second of which received a Grammy nomination for Best Contemporary Classical Composition – concertos for violin and trumpet, and many chamber compositions, including four string quartets and four cello sonatas. Also a pianist, Mr. Liebermann has written a considerable number of works for his instrument which appear frequently on concert and competition programs. Liebermann began piano studies at the age of eight, and composition studies at fourteen. He holds bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees from the Juilliard School of Music, where he studied with Vincent Persichetti and David Diamond. Among his many awards is a Charles Ives Fellowship from the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters as well as awards from ASCAP and BMI.

Concerto for Flute and Orchestra, Op. 39
Composed: 1992
Duration: 25 minutes

The legendary flutist Sir James Galway has been a stalwart champion of Lowell Liebermann’s music. He has commissioned several works, made a recording of three of them (with Liebermann himself conducting), and performed them all over the world. The Concerto for Flute and Orchestra, Op. 39 was the first of Galway’s commissions, and the work is dedicated to him. Composed in 1992, the Concerto was given its premiere on November 6 of that year in St. Louis, with Galway and the St. Louis Symphony conducted by Leonard Slatkin. (Over the years Liebermann has become a favorite of flutists; his Sonata for Flute and Piano, Op. 23 of 1987 is one of the best-loved such sonatas of the twentieth century, having already received some sixteen recordings in its short life.)

The Flute Concerto’s opening movement features, for much of its duration, a two-note repeating ostinato figure, resembling the ticking of a clock, played by the strings (sometimes aided by the brass). Overall the movement is a set of variations that takes the form of an arch. Initially calm and lyrical, the flute’s melodic line becomes very busy and decorative as the movement proceeds. There are some contrasting interludes, including a chorale-like theme in the brass on which the flute elaborates. Towards the end of the movement, propulsive strings underlie a series of long tones from the flute, leading ultimately to a reprise of the opening, with strings spinning out the melody and flute embellishments dancing above it.

Over a quiet, regular pulsing motion, the flute spins out a graceful, sinuous line in the second movement. There is one passionate crescendo towards the end of the movement, but in general the lyrical impulse wins out in music that has been called by one critic “ethereal, serene, and emotionally gripping.” The unrelentingly energetic third movement provides a dramatic contrast. Liebermann himself has described it as “a virtuoso workout for the flutist in a rondo-like form which closes with a prestissimo coda.”

Felix Mendelssohn

b. February 3, 1809, Hamburg, Germany
d. November 4, 1847, Leipzig, Germany

Felix Mendelssohn was one of the most popular composers of his time, and his music remains some of the most often played from the nineteenth century. He was also one of the few musical prodigies whose youthful ability could rival Mozart’s. The grandson of philosopher Moses Mendelssohn, young Felix grew up in a home that welcomed as guests many of the most learned people of his day. He took piano, violin, and singing lessons as a youth. By the age of eight was studying composition, and was producing remarkably assured works by his teens, including the Octet at age 16 and the Overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream at 17. Mendelssohn was a key figure in resurrecting the reputation of Johann Sebastian Bach, leading the St. Matthew Passion (the first performance the work had enjoyed since Bach’s death in 1750) in a now-famous 1829 concert. He subsequently held conducting posts in Düsseldorf and Berlin. But much of his later life was spent in Leipzig, where he directed the Gewandhaus Orchestra and, in 1843, founded the esteemed Leipzig Conservatory.

Symphony No. 4 in A major, Op. 90 “Italian”
Composed: 1833
Duration: 28 minutes

“This is Italy. What I have been looking forward to all my life as the greatest happiness is now begun, and I am basking in it.” Thus the twenty-two year old Felix Mendelssohn wrote to his family on October 10, 1830, having just begun his first visit to Italy as part of a “grand tour” of Europe that extended over 1829 to 1831. A leg of that journey that took Mendelssohn to Scotland, by the way, inspired his contemporaneous “Scottish” Symphony and “Hebrides” Overture.

Almost immediately upon entering Italy, he started sketching an “Italian” Symphony based on the sights and sounds he was experiencing. Those sketches didn’t really come to form, though, until two years later, when the London Philharmonic Society approved a resolution on November 5, 1832 commissioning of him a symphony, an overture, and a vocal piece. Back in Berlin by this time, Mendelssohn completed the symphony during the first three months of 1833. Then he traveled to London to conduct the “Italian” Symphony’s premiere on May 13, 1833 in the Hanover-Square Concert Room – the very same room, oddly enough, where Haydn’s “Surprise” Symphony was given its first performance forty-one years earlier!

As beloved as the “Italian” Symphony has been with audiences ever since its premiere, Mendelssohn himself was strangely dissatisfied with it. Over 1834 and 1835 he revised the work, and even at his death in 1847 he left notes for further revisions of the first three movements. The premiere performance was the only time he conducted the work, and he never published it – the Symphony only appeared in print in 1851, four years after his death.

The exuberance of the Symphony’s opening gives some notion of what Mendelssohn was experiencing in Italy. Pulsing chords from the woodwinds, set in motion by a pizzicato chord from the strings, introduce a bouncing string theme that can barely contain its energy. Two other themes soon make appearances: one in the violins, then another graceful theme in the clarinets and bassoons. The clarinet explores the opening theme for a time in a darker minor key. Then a new idea, a rising theme in the winds answered by the strings, leads back to the beginning of the work for the exposition repeat. One further time through, and the development gets underway with yet another new idea, a string theme that is developed contrapuntally. The oboe eventually leads into the free recapitulation of the opening section.

The second movement, occasionally referred to as the “Pilgrim’s March,” was apparently inspired by a religious procession Mendelssohn witnessed in Naples. The movement is dominated by a theme in D minor that some have suggested is a Czech hymn. Heard first in the oboes, bassoons and violas, then in the violins with counterpoint provided by the flutes, the melody is accompanied by a “walking” pizzicato bass line. A short contrasting central section, back in the major mode, highlights the clarinets. The third movement is a graceful, minuet-like dance. The central trio introduces a more martial strain, with a fanfare-like theme in the bassoons and horns, subsequently taken up by the trumpets and timpani.

In a letter from Rome to his sisters Fanny and Rebecka dated February 22, 1831, Mendelssohn described his symphony as “the jolliest piece I have ever done, especially the last movement.” That last movement is a Saltarello, a brilliant dance from Naples. In Mendelssohn’s hands, the saltarello starts to sound almost like the equally-lively tarantella from farther south in Italy. The swirling motion of the dance is heightened even further by the movement’s central section, where Mendelssohn creates a continuous crescendo from very quiet to very loud. For all its unbridled energy, this movement, entirely in the minor mode, is one of the very rare occasions when a symphony in a major key actually ends in the minor.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Classical Music: Transformative, Not Tranquilizing

As we eagerly anticipate the opening of the RCO season next weekend, I wanted to point your attention to a wonderful blog entry (from his weekly blog "On the Record" at www.artsjournal.com) written by orchestra guru, Henry Fogel. It is a very compelling argument about the substance of classical music. Good food for thought.


Classical Music: Transformative, Not Tranquilizing by Henry Fogel

One of the problems that the classical music world faces is the different ways that people experience music. The truth is that classical music is not meant to be background music. It is often not meant to "soothe," should in fact shake you to your roots frequently. But if you look at some of the marketing that is done by the recording industry, even by some orchestras or presenters, you'd think that we were closer to Montovani than Monteverdi.
How often I've heard, in my career, "after a hard day at work, I want to come to a concert, sit back, relax, and let the music just wash over me." How often I've seen marketing that panders to this concept by inviting the ticket buyer to "let the lush sounds of Rachmaninoff relax you." We hear of shopping malls that play classical music to either keep ruffians away--I'm not sure if it is supposed to annoy them or bore them out of the mall--or to mollify tensions by providing relaxing, soothing sounds.Clearly, those of us in the business of presenting classical music cannot take any listeners for granted, and in fact should welcome any kind of listening. And I don't say that because it is economically good for us (though I'll admit that it is). I say it because any approach to listening means that the listener is at some level appreciative of the music, and most of us are in this business because we are proselytizers. We believe in this music. We believe in its transformative power, its ability to fundamentally reach human beings on a level way beyond words. And therefore any listener, however he or she approaches the music, is something we cherish. However, it is also our job to make clear that there is much more to this music than lush, rich sounds. And yet much of our industry has encouraged the "just let it wash over us" approach--almost presenting it or talking about it as high-quality background music. Classical music radio in much of the United States is perhaps the prime casualty of this kind of thinking. Having visited more than 200 cities in the past ten years, and being an habitual searcher for classical music on the radio, I find myself deeply depressed at the proliferation of stations that identify themselves as "classical music" outlets but won't broadcast vocal music, modern music, or even full-length symphonies. I remember once driving with my wife and hearing the announcer intone "Next we'll hear the 2nd movement of Brahms's Symphony No. 2." I turned to my wife and said "Wow! All of it?" I dare say that the U.S. now has more so-called classical stations of this kind than stations that are actually meant to be closely listened to. Even more depressing is hearing those stations promote themselves. "Spend relaxing hours with WXYZ," or "Let the soothing sounds of classical music accompany you through the day on WXYZ." Station promotions of this nature are horrifyingly common. I'm trying to imagine Beethoven thinking this way about his late quartets or "Eroica" Symphony, not to mention Shostakovich about his Eighth Symphony (not that these are works one is even likely to encounter on a station like that). Would it be a wry smile or deep anger that such descriptions would engender in them?Those of us in the business of presenting and promoting music need to do a better job of explaining and clarifying the transformational qualities, the deeply moving potential, of our music. We need to remember that while a part of what we do is related to "entertainment"--and I have no gripe with entertainment; Suppé's overtures have their place in our lives--what we do is also much, much more than entertainment. It is up to us to manage the expectations of our audiences and potential audiences, and to explain why it's a good thing that you shouldn't let the music wash over you.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Order from Amazon.com and benefit the RCO!

The Reno Chamber Orchestra has just become affiliated with Amazon.com, which we know is a favorite shopping site for many of you. Now you can shop at Amazon.com and benefit the RCO! Whenever you want to make an order, visit this blog and click on the Amazon.com link at the right of this blog page: when you order music or anything else from Amazon.com through this link, a percentage of the value of your purchase will come directly to us! This is also true of the link to ArkivMusic.com, by the way, our favorite site for classical music on compact disc and DVD. These special links for Amazon.com and ArkivMusic.com will also be showing up on our website soon.

Monday, August 10, 2009

An update from Ted Kuchar

I hope that summer is treating everyone well. It seems impossible that August is 1/3 over. My summer has been busy and interesting, but RCO Music Director, Theodore Kuchar, has had a REALLY busy and interesting summer. Last week he was kind enough to write an update on what he's been doing. The guy lives an interesting life. I am posting his update here.


From T. Kuchar:
After a very pleasant time in Reno, collaborating with my friends Ruth, John, Jim, Scott and Corey Cerovsek, in two NCMF-related events, the summer was finally to begin. Ahead of me awaited Cleveland (the Kent/Blossom Festival, The Cleveland Orchestra's educational orchestral training institution where I have been teaching and conducting annually for the past six summers), the National Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela in Caracas, for two weeks, then the Cape Town Philharmonic Orchestra in South Africa for three weeks (one of my favourite locations in the world, with programs devoted to Liadov, the Chinese Erhu, Rachmaninov, Mozart, Beethoven, Dvorak, Rossini and Tchaikovsky) and, after returning home for four days, Tel Aviv - four concerts devoted to Tchaikovsky's Third Orchestral Suite, a new work commissioned by Zubin Mehta and the Israel Philharmonic by that country's foremost young composer, Avner Dorman which has been performed by the New York and Los Angeles Philharmonics recently, and Dvorak's "New World" Symphony and, immediately after the concert, to catch a 12:40am flight to New York, straight to Reno to begin our new season. I will save the next four weeks (Reno, Fresno, Munich and the Czech Republic for our next correspondence!

After the very enjoyable week in Reno, going to Cleveland is an annual tradition and commitment which I always look forward to. In the back of my mind, I eagerly awaited Cape Town and Tel Aviv ... but Caracas for two weeks? I had been there once before, four years ago ... and was less than enthusiastic other than because of the excellent repertoire which awaited - Smetana's complete "Ma Vlast" and, in the second week, Dvorak's Carnival Overture, Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto and the Copland Third Symphony.

The two weeks which I had dreaded the most, with the National Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela, in Caracas, was a period which was the most professionally satisfying and educational I have had in recent memory.

The orchestral life of Venezuela has been the most significant topic of conversation in the musical world for the past several years, more than the existence of any major symphony orchestra or opera house in the world. "El Sistema" ("The System") was devised, and to the present moment, directed and controlled by Jose Antonio Abreu, for over 30 years. Today, "El Sistema" involves over 200,000 Venezuelan musicians, ranging from beginning students from underprivileged environments being given a new beginning on life through music education to the talk of the musical world, the Simon Bolivar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela, whose members are all products of "El Sistema".

My first week finished with the most satisfying account of "Ma Vlast" I have done. With the Janacek Philharmonic Orchestra, we have performed this on subscription concerts, on tour in Europe and the USA and have made a well-regarded CD for Brilliant Classics. The first four days in Caracas were a revelation. Any Czech orchestra has this work in its blood and memory. Rehearsing this work must be a delicate process, never to "offend" the knowledge and experience of the Czech musician. I love rehearsals much more than concerts - that is where the real work is done! It was such an invigorating experience, taking an orchestra whose technical level is as good as any, and teaching the work "from scratch". A memorable concert!

Over the free weekend, a former student of mine, now the principal flute instructor in "El Sistema", asked me to come and hear his students. Little did I know that this was to be a concert by the Simon Bolivar Orchestra, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel, playing Bernstein's Symphony No. 2 "The Age of Anxiety" and Richard Strauss' "Alpine Symphony ... both on one program! My curiosity was at a peak - I read everything from the international press, but how could it resemble a Cleveland Orchestra, a Berlin Philharmonic, or a Janacek Philharmonic? If I go to my grave tomorrow and must remember three memorable concerts from my lifetime, this would certainly have been one of them. I have no explanation other than "El Sistema". Simply phenomenal! I had very pleasant meetings with Gustavo and Dr. Abreu afterwards. Gustavo was so excited that the Copland Third Symphony was being played in Venezuela that his final words to me were "I'll see you at the concert on Thursday".

The Copland Third Symphony has brought the greatest orchestras in the world to shame. I remember suffering with it in Cleveland. The Fresno Philharmonic did a legendary job with it last year. The orchestra felt that there was so much "teaching" happening that they asked if I would agree to add an extra rehearsal on Tuesday evening - no problem! They also added sectional rehearsals, which I always conducted. By the time the concert had ended, I was very proud of this orchestra. Such an incredible work ethic! Afterwards, we discussed future plans, including a longer relationship. We agreed that I would conduct their 80th Anniversary Concert in May, 2010 and several tours in October-November, 2010. I left Venezuela with the most pronounced musical memories.
I am now at home, in my wonderful Fresno residence, for four days before South Africa. During the past two days, I have watched my garden suffer, terribly, in the 110+ temperatures. From 7:00 pm onwards (at 6:00 pm the sun is too strong), I am standing with the garden hose, long into darkness. I don't know how these plants survive, and many haven't. We will next be in contact after South Africa, on August 30.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Michael Steinberg, 1928-2009

I just wanted to call your attention briefly to the recent passing of Michael Steinberg, one of the giants of music criticism. The longtime program annotator of the San Francisco Symphony, Boston Symphony, New York Philharmonic, and Minnesota Orchestra died last weekend at the age of 80.

For me (and I'm sure for many others in the business of writing program notes), Steinberg was the pinnacle to which I aspired. His writing was always evocative, clear, personal, detailed, approachable to those both versed or unversed in the technical aspects of music, and full of interesting and cogent historical anecdotes and byways. And he was able to open up musical compositions, to bring one inside the mind of the composer, better than anyone since the great Donald Francis Tovey. It’s a safe bet to say that no writer has taught me more about music than Michael Steinberg has.

His program note collections The Symphony, The Concerto, and Choral Masterworks: A Listener's Guide are constant companions. His most recent book, a collection of essays and incidental pieces co-written with Larry Rothe called For The Love of Music: Invitations to Listening, not only provide short and cogent introductions to some of the great composers of history, but also some insight into Steinberg’s own background.

An obituary by Joshua Kosman from the San Francisco Chronicle can be found here. And to find out more about Michael Steinberg and why was such a significant figure, read Mark Swed’s touching remembrance from the Los Angeles Times.

(photo of Michael Steinberg by Terrence McCarthy)