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PROGRAM NOTES for “French Connection with Isabell Lippi”
by Daniel Maki
Tromba lontana
by John Adams (1947- )
Duration: Approximately 4 minutes
First Performance: April 4, 1986 in Houston, Texas
Last ESO Performance: February, 1989; Robert Hanson, conductor
Tromba lontana (The Distant Trumpet) is one of a series of fanfares commissioned by
the Houston Symphony Orchestra in celebration of the sesquicentennial of the state of
Texas and was first performed by that orchestra in April of 1986. Fanfares being usually
rather noisy affairs, one might expect that a fanfare in honor of the entire state of Texas
might be unusually so. In fact, however, this one is quiet and meditative in character,
almost a kind of anti-fanfare which the composer himself described as “ slowly moving,
mysterious, almost ethereal.” The scoring is for an orchestra of strings, percussion, harp,
piano, and a small group of woodwind and brass instruments, which serve as a backdrop
for two solo trumpets which are placed far away from the orchestra as well as from each
other.
Although John Adams’ enormously successful career has embraced a wide range of
styles and techniques and he has said that he no longer likes to be identified as a
“minimalist” composer, this fairly early work clearly contains many of the features of
the minimalist style. Marked by a consistently steady pulse and the systematic repetition
of simple melodic and rhythmic figures, this style contributes greatly to the ethereal
quality of the music. Although most fanfares with their forceful statements seem to
suggest little doubt about anything , this one ends quietly and enigmatically, leaving
questions unanswered.
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Poème for Violin and Orchestra, op.25
by Ernest Chausson (1855 -1899)
Duration: Approximately 16 minutes
First Performance: December 27, 1896 in Nancy, France
Last ESO Performance: These are the first ESO performances of the work
Until his untimely death in a bicycle accident at the age of 44, Ernest Chausson had
lived a remarkably fortunate life. He was born into a wealthy bourgeois family that had
profited greatly from the ambitious new undertakings of France’s Second Empire. His
father earned a substantial fortune as a building contractor working for Baron Haussman
in his plan to redesign Paris as the most beautiful city in the world. Chausson’s
privileged and rather sheltered upbringing gave him ample opportunity to explore his
artistic interests, which, in addition to music , included both literature and the visual arts.
Like many artistic young people before and since, in order to please his elders Chausson
pursued a practical education, studying law and ultimately receiving an appointment as a
barrister at the court of appeals in Paris. Having fulfilled his family’s wishes, however, he
abruptly gave up his legal career and at the age of 24 enrolled at the Conservatoire in
Paris, where he would learn from two of France’s leading composers, Jules Massenet and
César Franck.
Chausson’s good fortune followed him into a happy marriage that produced five
children. Also fortunate was the opportunity to be in the midst of the amazingly rich
artistic life in late nineteenth century Paris. The Chausson household would become
renowned for its salons , which were frequented by the most important artists and
intellectuals of the time. To drop just a few of the most exalted names, one might mention
artists such as Manet, Degas, and Rodin, writers such as Mallarmè, Gide, and Colette,
and composers such as Franck, Faurè, Dukas, Chabrier, and Debussy.
Despite such important contacts, Chausson was not good at self promotion, and it took
many years before this gentle, generous, and humble man began to achieve the
recognition that he deserved. His career was just beginning to blossom when it was cut
off by the tragic accident. Incidentally, there is a small park, called the Square Ernest
Chausson , in his memory in the 17th arrondissement of Paris.
Chausson’s brief career produced works in a number of genres, including opera, art
song, religious music, chamber music, and symphony. His best known work, however, is
the hauntingly beautiful Poème for Violin and Orchestra, which has occupied a special
place in the violin repertoire since its premiere in 1896. That premiere was given by the
man to whom the work was dedicated, the legendary Belgian violinist Eugène Ysaÿe,
who was a close friend of the composer and another frequent visitor at his home.
Considered by many to be the greatest violinist of his time as well as a fine composer
himself, Ysaÿe inspired a number of composers to write for his famously grand,
romantic style of playing.
The Poème was originally titled Le Chant de l’amour triumphant (The song of Love
Triumphant), after a story by Ivan Turgenev, another distinguished friend of the
composer as well as one of his favorite authors. Set in 16th century Italy, the novella is the
story of a love triangle between a beautiful young woman and her two suitors, one a
painter and the other a musician. When the woman chooses the painter as a husband, the
devastated musician journeys to Asia to forge a new existence. He eventually returns as a
fascinatingly different person, bringing with him an Asian, three stringed violin and
exotic melodies which win back the heart of his beloved. Although attempts have been
made to read the story directly into the music, Chausson made it quite clear that the story
functions only as a kind of atmospheric background and that the work should be heard as
pure music.
The poetry begins with an atmospheric introduction in low strings and winds. The
deliberate omission of orchestral violins prepares the dramatic entry of the soloist,
playing all alone the melancholy theme which dominates the entire work. After the
orchestra states the theme again, we hear a violin cadenza, which, incidentally, features
double stops which were suggested by Ysaÿe himself. Although one might expect a
highly expressive, one movement composition from the high romantic period to be in free
form, and many program annotators have called it a free form work, Chausson has very
carefully structured the work in nearly classical fashion. The theme just mentioned
returns twice, once in the middle of the work and once at the end, creating a kind of arch
form. In between those sections is heard other thematic material in faster tempos. The
harmonic language of the Poème is the advanced, highly chromatic style that Wagner had
established and which Chausson’s teacher César Franck had absorbed , the language
which according to the thinking of the time could most eloquently express the depths of
the human soul. The magical effect of the Poème combines the power of Wagnerian
harmony with French sensuousness and a beguiling exoticism. It is also, of course, a
remarkable testament to the amazing expressive power of the violin, that remarkably
versatile instrument which has touched so many different cultures.
* * *
Rêverie et Caprice, op.8
by Hector Berlioz (1803-1869)
Duration: Approximately 11 minutes
First Performance: February 1, 1842 in Paris
Last ESO Performance: These are the first ESO performances of the work
Recycling seems to be a sensible practice in many areas of human activity and has
certainly been so in music. From time immemorial composers have cheerfully stolen
from other composers as well as from themselves. Hector Berlioz’s only composition for
solo violin aptly illustrates the point.
Rêverie et Caprice was originally written as an aria for the 1838 premiere of his opera
Benvenuto Cellini, which, just for the record, proved to be a resounding flop. As it
happened, the soprano who was to sing the aria found reasons, as sopranos sometimes do,
to be displeased with it and a new one had to be quickly supplied. Never one to waste
good material, Berlioz later rearranged the original for violin and in that form it was
premiered in 1842 by the young Delphin Alard, who would go on to become one of
France’s leading violinists and teachers.
Although the leading Berlioz scholars have not been particularly kind to this work, it
undeniably has its own charms and has over time been played by many leading violinists.
As the title implies, there are two primary moods, the first being dreamy and in slower
tempo, and the second, in quicker tempo with unpredictable rhythms, capricious. Slight
though it may seem, this elegant little work with its sudden changes of key, tempo, and
mood, beautifully illustrates the new Romanticism which , barely a decade after the
death of Beethoven, transformed the language of music.
* * *
Symphony No. 2 in D major, op. 43
By Jean Sibelius (1865 -1957)
Duration: Approximately 43 minutes
First Performance: March 8, 1902 in Helsinki
Last ESO Performance: February, 2003; Robert Hanson, conductor
It has been said that Finland is perhaps the only country in the world whose single
best known citizen is a musician. Whether or not that is literally true, there is no doubt
that Jean Sibelius , to an extraordinary degree for a musician, became a symbol of his
nation and an embodiment of an entire culture. His death at the age of 92 in 1957 was
mourned by the entire nation in a way usually reserved for statesmen, and until Finland
adopted the Euro, his picture was on the 100 markka bill. As someone who grew up in
Finnish speaking communities in this country, this writer can attest to the fact that the
name of Sibelius has been treated by ordinary Finns with a reverence surpassed only by
Jesus of Nazareth. The composer’s continuing profound effect on the musical life of his
country is symbolized by the fact that the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki, one of Europe’s
leading music schools, continues to produce musicians of international stature at a rate
disproportionate to Finland’s small population. If Finland is an unusually musical nation,
it is due in no small part to the influence, both direct and indirect , of Sibelius.
In this , the 150th anniversary of his birth, his significance shows no sign of
diminishing. In addition to a plethora of musical events throughout the world celebrating
the event, at this writing serious consideration is being given by Finnish authorities to
renaming the Helsinki airport in his honor. On a less exalted level, a Finnish brewing
company has issued a Sibelius lager beer to celebrate the occasion. (No, it’s not available
at your neighborhood store.)
In purely musical terms, Sibelius occupies a special place in the history of the
symphony. At the beginning of the twentieth century, so-called advanced musical opinion
was beginning to abandon the symphony, considering it to be a dead art form. As it
happened, however, as Mark Twain said of his own demise, reports of the death of the
symphony were greatly exaggerated. No more convincing proof was needed than the
seven ruggedly majestic symphonies that Sibelius would produce, causing him to be seen
as the saviour of the great European symphonic tradition. His reputation traveled
worldwide and ,incidentally, reached special heights in the English speaking world,
where he became something of a cult figure. In the United States, where the symphonies
were programmed almost as often as the German classics, he received an honorary
doctorate from Yale and was offered the directorship of the Eastman School of Music,
one of the country’s leading music schools, an honor which was politely declined. From
England, he received his favorite cigars from Winston Churchill which were gratefully
accepted, as well as accolades from critics calling him the greatest symphonist since
Beethoven.
Inevitably, as so often happens, critical opinion shifted for a time and some called
Sibelius an anachronism, writing warmed over late Romantic music. Though his
reputation reached its lowest ebb in the years immediately before and after his death,
recent decades have seen a dramatic resurgence and today he has taken his rightful place
as one of the leading figures of twentieth century music.
The Second Symphony has over time been probably the most popular of Sibelius’s
symphonies, although in recent times it is being challenged by the Fifth. It was
completed in 1902 at a crucial point in Sibelius’s development as a composer as well as
at a crucial time in the history of Finland. From 1809, Finland had been part of the
Russian Empire, functioning throughout most of the nineteenth century as a largely
autonomous Grand Duchy. At the end of the century, however, Russia began a
Russification program which tried to squelch any ideas of Finnish independence by
restricting freedom of the press and assembly, as well as such methods as forcing the
teaching of Russian in the schools and even conscripting Finns into the imperial army. A
few years earlier ,in 1899, Sibelius had written Finlandia , which turned out to be a
brilliant piece of musico- political propaganda, arousing fiercely patriotic sentiment
among Finns and making Sibelius a symbol of the newly emerging Finland.
The Second Symphony was begun on a trip to Italy but finished in Finland. Sibelius
was acutely aware of the fact that he had become a national symbol as his countrymen
eagerly awaited his latest new work. When it finally appeared, conducted by the
composer himself in March of 1902, it was greeted ecstatically. In the words of Sibelius’s
biographer Erik Tawaststjerna , “No previous new work had enjoyed such popular
success in Finland.”
Given the turbulent political situation, it was perhaps inevitable that attempts would be
made to connect the music to politics. Robert Kajanus, a conductor and close friend of
Sibelius, published an article describing the symphony as a depiction of the Finnish
struggle against Russian aggression. Despite protests from the composer that the work
had no such programmatic intent, the idea that it was a political statement died hard .
Many writers of program notes continued to propagate the idea, and the symphony came
to be often performed at state occasions as a patriotic celebration. Just for the record, it
should be said that Finland did finally achieve independence from Russia, becoming an
independent state for the first time in 1917.
For many listeners the first impression of Sibelius may sound like late Romantic
music, filled with the sort of “Northern Italianate melodism “ (as Igor Stravinsky called
it) characteristic of composers such as Tchaikovsky and Borodin, with occasional
references to German composers such as Wagner and Bruckner. Although he was
criticized for ignoring the developments of the avant-garde, closer listening reveals that
Sibelius was a powerfully original mind who forged his own individual path into the
twentieth century. As critic David Cherniavsky has written, he seems “ to embrace within
his style all these contemporary schools of thought, not so much by showing allegiance to
any one, but, on the contrary, by assimilating into his own outlook and making wholly his
own the vital truth contained in each”.
If the First symphony had a good deal of Tchaikovsky in it , the Second illustrates for
the first time Sibelius’s future as a symphonist .The first movement, which is for the most
part pastoral in feeling , illustrates one of the composer’s famous statements :”It is as
though the Almighty had thrown the pieces of a mosaic down from the floor of heaven
and told me to put them together. “ Whereas the first movement of a symphony usually
starts with complete themes which are then dissected into smaller fragments, here
Sibelius reverses the process. The movement begins with small melodic fragments which
only later are united into complete ideas (a mosaic), before dissolving again.
The second movement begins with a timpani roll, a good example of Sibelius’s
frequent skillful use of that instrument. The movement is also a good example of Finnish
melancholy, featuring a lugubrious melody in the bassoon which in his sketches Sibelius
had called a “Death” theme. There is also a contrasting, radiantly beautiful theme played
quietly, which in his sketch the composer called a “Christ” theme, which seems to offer
consolation. Separating these themes are dramatic episodes filled with sudden pauses, in
which strings, woodwinds, and brass call back and forth. Particularly striking are brass
chorale –like passages strongly featuring the tuba, an instrument that Sibelius would
never use again in his symphonies.
The mood changes suddenly with the frantically virtuosic scherzo, which is
interrupted twice by a curious contrasting melody in the oboe consisting of a single note
repeated no fewer than nine times. The scherzo leads without pause into the finale, a
movement that does have its Tchaikovsky- like moments and that is very much in the
tradition of ending a symphony in the most grandly triumphant way. There are two main
themes, the first heroic, and the second in a mournful minor key. This second theme had
great personal significance , for Sibelius conceived it as a memorial for his sister-in-law
Elli Järnefelt, who had recently committed suicide. It makes two appearances, both over
a sequence of repeated running notes in the lower strings. The second appearance leads to
an enormous climax in which D minor changes to a triumphant D major. Whether or not
one hears this gloriously exalted ending as a celebration of freedom from oppression, it
certainly achieves a grandeur that is impressive even in our cynical and supposedly postsymphonic age.
* * *