Rach & Bartok Program Notes

PROGRAM NOTES FOR LOUISVILLE ORCHESTRA 2022-2023,
Classics 08 – Rach and Bartók – 1 April 2023
By Laurie Shulman 8 2023
First North American Serial Rights Only

Isidora Žebeljan, who died three and a half years ago at only 53, was the leading Serbian composer of modern times. She was best known for her operas and incidental music for theater.

Hum Away, Hum Away, Strings! originated as a duo for violin and piano. It is a free fantasy –very free – on themes from Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute. Žebeljan called it a metamorphosis, and the changes are considerable. Listeners are unlikely to hear any of the birdcatcher Papageno’s tuneful airs. Žebeljan opens with dense, angry chords, proceeding to inquisitive, tentative music. The piece gathers momentum, embarking on a sequence of energetic – even manic – passages inspired by dance rhythms. It is virtuosic writing.

Béla Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2. Composed for the great Hungarian violinist Zoltán Székely, this concerto dates from the period right before the Second World War. Bartók had begun incorporating more diatonic folk melodies and Eastern European rhythmic patterns into his music, tempering the lean angularity of his works from the late 1920s and early 1930s. He creates a fantastical world in this concerto. Its lyricism is heart-wrenching in its beauty. That aspect, plus the folk elements he adapts, contrast strikingly with the brutality of life. They are all blended in this concerto: a complex amalgam of dreams, longing, and bitter reality.

Audiences probably associate Sergei Rachmaninoff most closely with works for piano solo or piano and orchestra. One should not overlook his skill in handling a large orchestra on its own. In fact, his Symphony No. 3 in A minor, Op.44 Symphony shows Rachmaninoff to have grown enormously as a master orchestrator. The work is also quite bold in formal innovations. The Third Symphony is limited to three movements; however, Rachmaninoff incorporates a lively scherzando section into the slow movement. This telescoping of traditional four-movement symphonic form adds to the Third Symphony’s structural economy. So many characteristics that endear Rachmaninoff to us are present in spades: brilliant coloristic strokes worthy of his older contemporary Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, memorable melodies, and a profound sense of Russian melancholy that tears at the heartstrings at the same time that it evokes a bygone era.

Hum away, hum away, strings (2013)
Isidora Žebeljan
Born 27 September 27, 1967 in Belgrade, Serbia
Died there 29 September, 2020

Isidora Žebeljan, who died three and a half years ago at only 53, was the leading Serbian composer of modern times. Her opera Zora D, a co-production between Opera Studio Nederland and the Vienna Chamber Opera, was premiered in Amsterdam in June 2003. It was the first Serbian opera to be produced outside Serbia since before World War II, and the first to be premiered outside the country.

Žebeljan was educated at the Faculty of Music in Belgrade, where her principal teacher was Vlastimir Trajkovic, who had studied with the French master Olivier Messiaen. Žebeljan eventually joined the Faculty of Music as a Professor of Composition. She was best known for her operas and incidental music for theater.

Hum Away, Hum Away Strings! originated as a duo for violin and piano. It is a free fantasy on themes from Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Žebeljan called it a metamorphosis, and the changes are considerable. Listeners are unlikely to hear any of Papageno’s tuneful airs. Žebeljan opens with dense, angry chords, proceeding to inquisitive, tentative music. The piece gathers momentum, embarking on a sequence of energetic – even manic – passages inspired by dance rhythms. It is virtuosic writing.

The Bregenzer Festspiele [Austria] commissioned Hum Away, Hum Away Strings! and premiered it in July 2013.

The score calls for piccolo, flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 2 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, piano and strings.

Violin Concerto No.2
Béla Bartók
Born 25 March, 1881 in Nagy Szent Miklós, Transylvania
Died 26 September, 1945 in New York City

Request from a friend

The violin was special to Bartók, not only because of its important place in Hungarian musical culture, but also because of his own felicitous associations with three brilliant Hungarian violinists:  Jelly d’Arányi (who inspired him to write both Violin Sonatas), Joseph Szigeti (for whom he composed the First Violin Rhapsody and Contrasts) and Zoltán Székely (the dedicatee of the Second Violin Rhapsody and the Second Concerto).

Both Szigeti and Székely are closely connected to the history of the Second Violin Concerto, but Székely was primary impetus. During the 1920s and 1930s, when he was first violinist of the renowned Hungarian String Quartet, he and Bartók concertized extensively together.  Their friendship was founded on profound mutual artistic respect, and it was almost inevitable that Székely would ask the composer to write a violin concerto for him.

Bartók’s custom was to study the music of others before embarking on a major new work of a specific genre.  He wrote to his publisher, Universal, in September 1936 requesting some violin concerto scores.  Universal sent him works by Weill, Szymanowski, and Berg.  Filled with musical ideas, Bartók was receptive to Székely’s commission, which was offered to him in 1937.

Sneaky variations

Initially he proposed variations for violin and orchestra to Székely because he was preoccupied with variation form at the time.  The violinist was not enthused, preferring a more traditional three-movement concerto.  On the surface, Bartók accommodated his friend; the first movement is indeed in sonata form.  But he had the last word:  the central slow movement is a set of variations, and the third movement is a free variation on the material presented in the first.  These components add up to a giant arch form, another architectural device that fascinated Bartók during the 1930s.

Political clouds gather on the horizon

These were troubled times throughout Europe, and Bartók was particularly pained by the rise of Nazism and its long-range implications for his beloved Hungary.  In 1937 the German Reichs-Musikkammer had sent him a questionnaire intended to verify his “Aryan descent” in order that his music might continue to be performed in Germany.  He reacted with disgust and responded with satire, one of several factors that contributed to his sensitive political situation and eventual emigration to the United States.  With Hitler’s Anschluss (11-13 March, 1938), Bartók’s worst fears began to be realized.

Although this was the very time he was at work on the Violin Concerto — he began sketching the concerto in mid-1936 and completed the score on the last day of 1938 — the piece is no reflection of his dark presentiments.  Indeed, its predominantly diatonic language bespeaks a less strident Bartók than the works of the late 1920s and early 1930s.  Modal and folk influences, specifically the use of a verbunkos [traditional Hungarian recruiting dance] rhythm in the first movement, add pungency to the more triadic harmonic vocabulary.  Also noteworthy in this regard is Bartók’s use of quarter-tones just before the cadenza.

Musicians’ corner

The concerto opens tranquilly, with a distinctive Hungarian flavor, especially at the cadences.  Bartók wastes little time establishing the spectacular, even flamboyant character of this concerto, whose moods shift dramatically.  Very rapid, flashy sections alternate with unexpected slowdowns where the brakes get slammed on.  Two themes are developed in alternation, in a sort of rondo technique; the first recurs (with a meter change) in the finale.  Pizzicato strings and harp brighten the vivid color palette.

A pastoral Andante tranquillo, one of Bartók’s loveliest movements, follows.  This time the celesta is the featured member of the colorful orchestra.  A darker middle section is but one of the variation techniques the composer employs to retain our interest in his development of the lovely song theme.  He uses the percussion section with great ingenuity.

The finale makes for fascinating listening because of the masterful way in which Bartók re-introduces the two themes of the first movement.  His orchestra is heavier, particularly in the brass section.  Rhythmic vitality drives this movement; that is the most distinct difference from the opening movement, which it otherwise resembles in almost every structural aspect.

Two endings: concession for a virtuoso

In a curious anomaly, the published score includes two endings Bartók composed for the finale.  One is a brilliant solo vehicle; the other concludes without the soloist.  Szekely requested the virtuoso version to permit the work to end “like a concerto, not a symphony.”  Not surprisingly, most violinists opt for the more demanding route.

Bartók’s score calls for two flutes (second doubling piccolo), two oboes (second doubling English horn), two clarinets (second doubling bass clarinet), two bassoons (second doubling contrabassoon), four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, triangle, side drums, bass drum, cymbals, tam-tam, celesta, harp, solo violin and strings.

Symphony No. 3 in A minor, Op. 44
Sergei Rachmaninoff
Born 1 April, 1873 in Oneg, Novgorod District, Russia
Died 28 March, 1943 in Beverly Hills, California

Sergei Rachmaninoff was the paramount Russian composer-pianist of the last century. A brilliant performer with unusually large hands, Rachmaninoff was remarkably successful as a piano virtuoso on both sides of the Atlantic, and used his concert tours as an opportunity to promote his original compositions. His Second and Third Piano Concerti and Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini are among the most frequently performed works for piano and orchestra. His recordings of his own solo piano music are legendary. What intermediate student pianist hasn’t tackled the portentous C-sharp minor Prelude?

That stated, Rachmaninoff’s orchestral compositions have not fared so well in the concert hall. The exceptions are the popular Second Symphony, with its irresistible and melodic slow movement, and the Symphonic Dances, which make occasional appearances on symphony programs. But what of Rachmaninoff’s tone poems, choral works, and two other symphonies?

They are, for the most part, curiosities: infrequently revived, and too often compared unfavorably with the more popular piano concerti.

Context and criticism

Rachmaninoff was himself baffled that the Third Symphony did not immediately gain acclaim and acceptance in the repertoire. He was firmly convinced that the work was one of his strongest compositions, and retained that conviction even after several unfavorable reviews.

The principal criticisms leveled at the symphony were excessive length and lack of originality. Had Rachmaninoff already said everything he had to say? By 1936, the year that the Third Symphony was first performed, Shostakovich had risked his career with the opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, and Gershwin had fused jazz with the opera house in Porgy and Bess.  In America, Aaron Copland, Roy Harris and Samuel Barber were all trying their hand at first symphonies, wrestling with a musical world that was changing as rapidly as the political situation in Europe.

Rachmaninoff the reflective

By contrast, Rachmaninoff seemed to have stepped back in time. He remained untouched by the Second Viennese School — Arnold Schoenberg and his disciples — and seemed to stay pyschologically rooted in a Russia that had vanished with the 1917 revolution. His Third Symphony, begun in Switzerland in summer 1935 and completed the following spring, has been interpreted as bitterly nostalgic for a vanished world. What then is to beckon us toward this work? We will do well to remember that Mozart was not an innovator, but a preserver of an existing style, which he brought to unprecedented heights. Richard Strauss took a distinctly backward glance with Der Rosenkavalier and favored a distinctly reflective musical language for the balance of his long career. Musical genius does not necessarily go hand-in-hand with trailblazing.

Tchaikovsky’s influence

Although the symphony consists of three movements, Rachmaninoff encloses a hefty scherzo within the slow movement, which effectively expands the overall concept to a four movement work. The Third is indebted to Tchaikovsky in its use of a ‘motto.’ You will hear it in the opening bars: a slow seesaw between and among three adjacent pitches, in a pianissimo quartet of two clarinets, horn and cello, before full orchestra bursts forth. That quiet motto recurs in several places throughout the first movement. Rachmaninoff opens the slow movement with it – a luscious duet for solo horn with harp accompaniment – and it appears in the finale as well.

There is no shortage of glorious themes. Rachmaninoff gives the main melody to the oboes, who introduce rhythmically fluid music with seamless metric switches between 2/4 and 3/4. The second theme is a glorious song for the cellos in E major, with gently syncopated commentary from the woodwinds.

The development includes some surprisingly Wagnerian touches, for example a duet for bassoons and clarinet in thirds that sounds as if it were lifted out of Siegfried  – but only momentarily. Rachmaninoff’s agitated buildup to the climax is almost Elgarian, with occasional hints of Sibelius in the persistent use of parallel thirds. Clearly Rachmaninoff had been listening to the music of his contemporaries in the twenty years since his last Symphony. His own ear for color is flawless, with delicious details such as a passage for piccolo, bassoon, and xylophone.

A muted horn solo with the motto heralds the recapitulation, which seems like a foretaste of the late Symphonic Dances. Everything is slightly altered, though there are constant references to the motto and to the two principal themes. Though there is considerable chromatic wandering (the second theme recurs in A-flat major!), Rachmaninoff remains firmly rooted in tonality, finding his experimentation in color such as octave doubling in contrasting timbres and divided strings. The motto closes the movement.

Slow movement and finale

A duet for horn with harp accompaniment opens with Adagio ma non troppo. It sets the textural stage for a series of solos, beginning with one for concertmaster. Harp and chords in the horn section are essential to the sense of endless melody spun by the violins. A series of woodwind solos ensues before the acceleration to the central scherzo, which abounds in whirlwind metric switches between duple and triple meter. Once the slow tempo returns, so too do the cameo solos.  Pizzicato strings close the movement with a final statement of the motto.

Rachmaninoff’s finale is Russian festival dance music, recalling the exuberance of works like Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from the opera Prince Igor and Stravinsky’s Shrovetide Fair in Petrushka. This rhythmically crisp and driven movement is pure Rachmaninoff, however, now in the bright key of A major. One of its highlights is a brilliant fugue that starts in the first violins, working its way downward through the strings with each entrance. Countersubjects come from the woodwinds and brass. Once again, Rachmaninoff employs frequent metric switches, and the writing is virtuosic throughout. A few moments of relaxation provide respite, but we know we are headed for a brilliant close and the Third Symphony does not disappoint.

An English advocate

The first performance of the Third Symphony took place in Philadelphia on 6 November, 1936 with Leopold Stokowski conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra. Poor reviews prompted Rachmaninoff to revise it, as a result of which two versions were published, in 1937 and 1939. The 1939 version is usually performed. The English conductor Sir Henry Wood became a champion of this work in Britain, leading performances with the Liverpool Philharmonic Society and for a BBC Symphony Orchestra broadcast. “The work impresses me as being of the true Russian romantic school,” he was quoted as saying. “One cannot get away from the beauty and melodic line of the themes and their logical development.” Wood’s observations hold true today.

When Rachmaninoff began work on this symphony, he had not written for orchestra alone (that is, without solo piano) in twenty-five years. He had learned a great deal. His use of expanded percussion is imaginative and effective; listen in particular for triangle, xylophone, and celesta.  He understood how to make much out of little, reintroducing a narrow-range three-note motive – the motto of the opening measures – throughout the symphony. And he left his ‘signature’ chant — the Roman Catholic Dies irae — in the finale, tempering that movement’s rhythmic exuberance with the reference to the Requiem mass that colors so many of his compositions.

The score calls for two flutes, piccolo, two oboes, English horn, two clarinets, bass clarinet, two bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, cymbals, side drum, triangle, tam tam, xylophone, two harps, celesta and strings.

BELOW IS A DIFFERENT NOTE FOR TOLEDO – LOTS OF DPULICATION BUT MAYBE MATERIAL FOR MINI-NOTE

We begin with the Symphony No. 3 in A minor, Op.44. While we may associate Rachmaninoff most closely with works for piano solo or piano and orchestra, we must not overlook his skill in handling a large orchestra without benefit of the contrast that the keyboard affords. In fact, the Third Symphony shows Rachmaninoff to have grown enormously as a master orchestrator.

He was surprisingly bold in formal innovations. The Third Symphony has three movements, but incorporates a lively scherzando section into the slow movement. This telescoping of traditional form adds to a sense of the Third Symphony’s structural economy. The characteristics that endear Rachmaninoff’s music to us are present in spades: brilliant coloristic strokes worthy of his older contemporary Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, memorable melodies, and a profound sense of Russian melancholy that tears at the heartstrings at the same time that it evokes a bygone era.

The first movement is especially broad in its mood and style. It opens quietly, with a chant-like theme for muted cello, horns and clarinets that recalls the Russian Orthodox church. This brief gesture recurs as a motto in all three movements. Full orchestra erupts in bar 5, switching from Lento to Allegro moderato and launching a well-crafted sonata form.

Rachmaninoff’s second theme is classic: rich and unforgettable. The cellos sound as natural and melodious as a Stephen Foster song, but still tinged with that mournful Russian quality. Theirs is one of the tunes you will leave the Peristyle humming tonight. Listeners may detect a resemblance to the American folk song ‘O Shenandoah;’ in fact, there is also a thematic connection to a traditional Russian wedding song. The development section derives almost entirely from the first orchestral theme, emphasizing the tight formal organization of the movement.

Rachmaninoff’s slow movement opens with the chant-like motto, first stated by horn with harp accompaniment. Short solos for many members of the orchestra dot this movement, which manages to calm down after its skittish and exciting central scherzo.

The finale shifts the mood completely, now as upbeat as anything Rachmaninoff composed. Crisp electric rhythms and boundless energy drive the music. Yet another gorgeous second theme emerges, now based on a yearning ascending arpeggio. A brilliant extended fugato is a centerpiece of the finale, serving as a lead-in for the Dies irae, which recurs so often in Rachmaninoff’s music. Shadows of funeral music cannot suppress high spirits, however, and the symphony closes in a blaze of optimism.