November 17, 2018 "Nostalgia and Longing"

PROGRAM NOTES

Edward Elgar
(Born in Lower Broadheath, England in 1857; died in Worcester, England in 1934)

Salut d’Amour, Op. 12

Elgar was the quintessential underdog, and as such, his masterpieces make us all the more glad he finally achieved his rightful praise. He was a self-taught composer, learning his craft by borrowing books on counterpoint and harmony from the library in his small hometown of Broadheath. He was an accomplished violinist but also played the organ, bassoon and viola (as well as other instruments), and he relied upon the latter to make a living for many years as a private music teacher. He also picked up conducting and freelanced as a conductor in obscure English places for many, many years. His beloved wife, Alice, was his greatest champion and brought him through some severe bouts of low self-esteem and depression. Had it not been for her constant support, Elgar almost certainly never would have persevered to write some of Western music’s most beloved pieces, such as his Enigma Variations and his fleet, tender Salut d’Amour.

Salut d’Amour was Elgar’s first published work and fittingly so. While Elgar and Alice were courting, the composer went on holiday in 1888 with an old friend. Alice bid him a happy trip with a poem that she had written called “Love’s Grace.” In short order, Elgar responded with a musical reply dedicated to her and entitled “Liebesgruss” (Love’s Greeting)—and a marriage proposal. They were soon married, and Liebesgruss was soon sold to Elgar’s publisher for virtually pennies. But it was a milestone, and it was the beginning of so many great things to come for Elgar and his soul mate, Alice. Not long after, Elgar’s publisher changed the title to something more French sounding, Salut d’Amour, and the work has been winning hearts ever since. Though the work is simple and direct, one can’t help but hear the joy and devotion for Alice that inspired the young composer. Here is Elgar at the beginning of his great career with a song-poem to his beloved.

When Alice died in Elgar’s arms in 1920, Elgar grieved to a friend:

“Bless her! You, who like some of my work, must thank her for all of it, not me. I should have destroyed it all and joined Job’s wife in the congenial task of cursing God.”

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
(Born in Salzburg, Austria in 1756; died in Vienna in 1791)

Overture to Don Giovanni

Don Giovanni is truly one of the great operas ever written, and its Overture is forever welcome in the Concert Hall. The music and libretto were instantly beloved at their premiere in Prague in October 1787. But then, unbelievably, after the opera’s ecstatic premiere there, this masterpiece found only a lukewarm reception in Mozart’s hometown of Vienna. Indeed, Vienna’s near disdain for this extraordinary opera became another tragedy compounding the difficulties Mozart was facing at this stage of his life, all of which soon led to a serious decline in his health and finances. From these hardships, he would essentially never recover.

The opera is based on the life of the fabled Don Juan (“Don Giovanni” in Italian) who was an unrepentant Spanish playboy and libertine. Don Juan’s conquests and his comical hijinks are recreated in Mozart’s opera but amidst the silliness and scandalous behaviour, Mozart’s Giovanni faces a reckoning of abject terror. As in Greek tragedy, the terror is foreshadowed early, as Mozart at the outset of the Overture deftly builds colossally foreboding chords and sinister murmurings with strings and winds. This is then followed, quite eerily, by a series of ascending and descending scales that evoke an atmosphere of extraordinary dread—presaging the last scene of the opera when one of Giovanni’s victims comes back from the grave to drag him to the fires of Hell. This is strong stuff, but the Overture does not dwell there; instead, it springs back musically into the gaiety of Giovanni’s life before its last judgment, full of his devil-may-care attitude, high society enjoyments and complicated entanglements.

That Mozart began this Overture with foreshadowing of its Opera’s ending is only half of the genius in this great work. Reportedly, the day before Don Giovanni’s premiere in Prague there was no Overture at all, much to the alarm of the opera company. Mozart calmed everyone by pointing to his head, explaining he had already mentally composed it. He committed it to paper the evening before the first performance, and astonishingly, it bore none of the themes from the opera – it was all new music. Nonetheless, it fit perfectly as an Overture to the opera even as it was—and remains—a masterpiece in its own right.

Joaquín Rodrigo (Vidre)
(Born in Sagunto, Valencia, Spain in 1901; died in Madrid in 1999)

Concierto de Aranjuez
1. Allegro con spirito
2. Adagio
3. Allegro gentile

Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez is one of the most popular works written in the 20th Century. And although its 1939 premiere in Barcelona whisked Rodrigo from virtual obscurity to international fame almost overnight, the work’s conception faced considerable challenges.

Rodrigo had been studying with Paul Dukas (the composer of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice) in Paris when the Spanish Civil War broke out. The war delayed his return to Spain, for which he was desperately homesick. However, returning to Franco’s Spain meant being very careful about the music he brought with him: any compositions had to be appealing to the ultra-conservative Franco regime. A prominent Spanish guitarist. Regino Sainz de la Maza (who wound up becoming the dedicatee and performer of the Concierto’s premiere) begged Rodrigo to revive the guitar concerto tradition, but this was problematic for two reasons. First, Rodrigo was not a guitarist, and therefore he was inexperienced in knowing how to project effectually the idiomatic beauty of that quiet instrument in front of a full orchestra. Second, the way Rodrigo composed created special difficulties: having gone almost completely blind at age three, Rodrigo composed using a Braille typewriter. The output of this machine had to be rather painstakingly transcribed, and the nuances of writing for guitar were an especially great challenge in this context. But like many great artists, Rodrigo overcame the obstacles he faced and created one of the most beloved works of the Century.

To pacify Franco’s censors, Rodrigo said his Concierto was based on material from Old Spain and revived “the essence of an 18th century court where the aristocratic blended with the popular element… an epoch at the end of which fandangos transform themselves into fandanguillos, and when the cante and the bulerias vibrate in the Spanish air.” The court to which he referred was the palatial Aranjuez outside of Madrid with its famous Moorish-style gardens (not coincidentally, it was in these gardens that Rodrigo and his wife had fallen in love).

The orchestration of the Concierto shows Rodrigo’s special brilliance. Listen to the ways he makes the solo guitar and orchestra often speak in chamber-like combinations—the Adagio’s breathtaking conversation between the English horn and the guitar is a perfect example of this.

In fact, everything seems right in Rodrigo’s Concierto. From the flamenco-style strumming of the opening, through the searingly beautiful cante hondo (“deep song”) of the Adagio, to the courtly elegance of the finale, this work’s popularity is well deserved. But there is magic in it as well. As Rodrigo put it, “…in its themes there lingers on the fragrance of magnolias, the singing of birds, and the gushing of fountains.”

Georges Bizet
(Born in Paris in 1838; died in Bougival, France in 1875)

Symphony in C
1. Allegro vivo
2. Andante – Adagio
3. Allegro vivace
4. Finale – Allegro vivace

The son of musicians, Bizet gravitated towards a career in music very early. He was a prodigy in the heritage of Mozart and Mendelssohn, and he entered the Paris Conservatoire at the age of 9. By 1855, at the age of 17, he had begun studying with Charles Gounod, France’s most eminent composer (creator of the opera Faust and St. Cecilia’s Mass). Bizet was star-struck by this teacher, it seems, saying some years later to him “You were the beginning of my life as an artist. … You are the cause, I am the consequence.” Bizet’s talents were not lost on Gounod, either. It appears that in order to prepare his talented pupil to compete for the extremely coveted Prix de Rome prize in composition, Gounod assigned Bizet the formidable task of writing a symphony. Bizet finished this work, his Symphony in C, within a month, and with it he did indeed win the Prize, two years later, in 1857.

The Symphony’s first movement is bright and fast-paced, much like an early Mozart or Haydn symphony would have been. But what is clearly Bizet’s is the wonderful main theme featuring the oboe, and later, the flute—two instruments that will dominate Bizet’s music later in life. The movement ends with a feeling of charm and grace.

While the first movement is convincingly charming, we truly begin understanding Bizet’s musical genius in the remarkable second movement, the Adagio. The opening chords set a completely different tone from the frisky first movement, leading to the main theme that features the oboe again, show-casing Bizet’s love of exotic sounding melodies that meander and snake about, charming us into his unique musical world. This early work gives strong hints of the kind of writing that will make his great masterpiece, the opera Carmen, come to life in 1875. When we recall that Bizet was just 17 when he composed his Symphony in C, comparisons to Mozart and Mendelssohn are justified.

The third movement is vigorous yet stately, a two-step dance with some splendidly accented outbursts. The middle portion is rustic but graceful, again featuring oboe and flute, with rich harmonic moments.

The last movement is an “off-to-the-races” kind of finale, bristling with energy and joyfulness. Again, it’s a remarkable culminating movement for a 17-year old—we marvel at the ingenious way Bizet uses the whole array of orchestral colors to imbue this finale with ever-changing hues and exciting effects. It’s a bit of a devil to perform for both strings and winds, but so very delightful for the audience!