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Program Notes for Virginia Symphony Orchestra
Classics 7 - Terrence Wilson Plays Beethoven - 15, 17 &23 February 2013
By Laurie Shulman ©2012
First North American Serial Rights Only
Nationalism is the common denominator on this program, from several perspectives.
Beethoven and Brahms were both Germans who settled permanently in the Austrian capital of
Vienna, absorbing and advancing the Viennese classical tradition. Zoltán Kodály was an ardent
Hungarian nationalist and a central figure in the science of ethnomusicology.
And what of the Soviet Union’s Dmitri Shostakovich, whose Suite from The Gadfly
opens the program? Here the nationalist connection derives from the subject matter. The Gadfly
was a 1955 movie for which Shostakovich composed the soundtrack. The film is based on an
English novel with an anti-religious subtext, which suited the Soviet agenda – but the basic plot
has to do with Italian rebellion against Austrian oppressors: freedom from foreign domination. It
is a theme that would resonate strongly for the remainder of the 20th century, with strong echoes
of the century that had passed. Shostakovich’s score for The Gadfly is surprisingly tonal,
rhythmically straightforward, and melodic.
“We have this image of Shostakovich as a modern, dissonant, powerful composer, maybe
even frightening,” observes Music Director JoAnn Falletta. “His film music is lighter, and often
quite beautiful. This kind of beauty surprises audiences, showing them Shostakovich in a
different framework. I am especially happy to feature some of our musicians in cameos. The
Romance is one of the most meltingly lovely movements for violin solo in the literature, and the
Prelude features a gorgeous cello solo.”
Following the Shostakovich, she turns to the Viennese Symphonic tradition. Our soloist
in Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No.2 in B-flat major, Op.20 is Terrence Wilson, a popular
favorite with VSO audiences. “On two prior occasions, Terrence appeared here on short notice
and substituted, playing Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff works wonderfully,” recalls Ms. Falletta.
“When I invited him to return, I asked what concerto he would like to perform. He chose the
Beethoven, which is so perfect: fun to play and fun to conduct.”
Mr. Wilson feels that the Beethoven Second Concerto doesn’t get as much play as it
deserves. “It has everything we expect in a great piano concerto: a dramatic first movement, a
lyrical and beautiful slow movement, and a bright, lively finale. It’s just a gem!
“In some respects this concerto is trickier conceptually than Beethoven’s other four,”
Wilson continues. “It is at once very early, and quite forward-looking. The slow movement, in
particular, is deep and probing, like those of some of his early piano sonatas. He didn’t achieve
that in slow movements of other instrumental works until much later. This slow movement gives
the piece its center of gravity. I don’t think it’s by accident. To me, it demonstrates that
Beethoven was searching for something less straightforward and more subtle than what he
achieved in the outer movements.
“We think of this concerto as ‘simple’ music. It’s not simple at all! The challenge lies in
pacing, and bringing out all the subtleties of character from one movement to the next. The finale
is meant to contrast with the slow movement. Beethoven is witty, even humorous – but how do
you communicate that without being showy or flippant? His Rondo is only six minutes long, so
you want to relish every moment without going too fast. It’s not a Saint-Saëns or a Mendelssohn
finale: it’s classical.”
***
The second half of the concert centers on Hungary, with different takes on the concept of
Hungarian music. Zoltán Kodály’s Variations on a Hungarian Folk Song, ‘The Peacock’ is a
seminal work in Hungarian nationalism. Amsterdam’s celebrated Concertgebouw Orchestra
commissioned Kodály to compose it on the occasion of the organization’s 50th anniversary.
Willem Mengelberg conducted the premiere on 23 November, 1939.
Kodály responded to the commission with an orchestral canvas that plumbed the very
depths of Hungary’s soul, fashioning his variations on one of the nation’s most ancient folk
tunes. Because the words to ‘The Peacock’ are about freedom from servitude, the resulting
composition was correctly construed as a powerful statement of Hungarian nationalism. During
the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, performance of ‘Peacock’ Variations was forbidden.
Since the war, this magnificent score has taken its rightful place internationally as a masterpiece
of 20th-century orchestral literature.
“We’ve performed a lot of Kodály’s music, and it always elicits a wonderful, warm
response,” says Ms. Falletta. “Peacock Variations captures the ambivalence of Hungarian
character: cynical on one hand, innocent and joyful on the other. These variations are so
profound, and so different from one another, yet extremely well organized and unified. A level of
seriousness and sadness associated with the original folk song is central to the character of this
powerful score.”
She has chosen to close the program with three of the beloved Hungarian Dances by
Johannes Brahms. These dances originated as music for one piano, four hands. Brahms
orchestrated some of them; Dvořák and other composers orchestrated others. They were among
the most popular of Brahms’s works during his lifetime. “We wanted to try a different approach,
and conclude with lighter, more optimistic music,” explains Ms. Falletta. These irresistible
Brahms Dances do the trick: a perfect complement to the thought-provoking Kodály score.
Suite from The Gadfly, Op.97a
Dmitri Shostakovich
Born 25 September, 1906 in St. Petersburg, Russia
Died 9 August, 1975 in Moscow
Arranged by Lev Atovmyan (1901-1973)
Approximate duration 14 minutes
Film was a powerful propaganda tool in Soviet culture. The medium also proved to be a
creative stimulus for Soviet artists: not only directors, but also set and costume designers,
playwrights, and composers. Shostakovich was a natural for film music. He had worked as a
pianist in silent movie houses starting in his ’teens and had a keen dramatic sense. Between 1928
and 1970, he composed nearly forty film scores, several of which were subsequently adapted into
orchestral suites.
The Gadfly [Ovod] was a 1955 production of the Soviet director Alexander Faintsimmer
(sometimes transliterated as Feinzimmer; he is best known for his collaboration with Sergei
Prokofiev on Lieutenant Kije in 1934). The screenplay to The Gadfly is based on an 1897 novel
by the Irish writer Ethel Lilian Voynich (née Boole). The gadfly of the title refers to the hero, the
illegitimate son of an Italian Cardinal. He becomes involved in Italy’s struggle for unification
and resistance to Habsburg rule, earning his nickname because his revolutionary activities carry a
particular sting to the Austrian authorities.
The book became exceedingly popular in China and the USSR, largely because of its
representation of the Catholic Church as oppressive and hypocritical, and because of its antiimperialist stance. Soviet propaganda ministers viewed The Gadfly as ideologically useful.
Consequently, the novel was required reading in schools during the Stalinist era.
In 1956, Levon Atovmyan arranged portions of Shostakovich’s Gadfly music into an
orchestral suite. A composer and music administrator, Atovmyan was one of the friends
Shostakovich trusted. He edited many of Shostakovich’s published works and arranged a number
of his ballet and film scores into suites. In its entirety, the Gadfly Suite comprises twelve
movements that take three-quarters of an hour in performance. Ms. Falletta has chosen five.
Most of Shostakovich’s film music is frankly tonal and melodious, often singable. The
Overture to The Gadfly is representative, with a bold and memorable string theme with brass
accompaniment to start. Two other ideas emerge, but the opening phrase dominates this threeminute overture, resolving at the end from C minor to sunny C major. In the film, this music
recurs at strategic moments to underscore the Italians’ quest for independence.
At six minutes, the Romance is one of the most substantial movements in the Suite, and
certainly the best known. According to the Russian music specialist and Shostakovich expert
Laurel E. Fay, the piece was a combination of two different episodes from the films’ soundtrack.
The Russian publisher DSCH issued the score of the Romance separately in 1997, an
acknowledgment of its popularity independent of the full score. Its meltingly lovely violin solo
has made it one of Shostakovich’s most popular short pieces.
Galop was a popular ballroom dance in the 19th century, related to the polka schnell or
fast polka. With its rising scale theme in repeated notes and sassy brass commentary, this galop
captures the risqué abandon of Offenbach’s can-can, with a dash of Shostakovich’s satirical
humor thrown in for good measure.
Prelude slows down the pace, and brings sadness and Russian melancholy to The Gadfly.
Shostakovich alternates distinct sections in this movement, opening with a mournful melody for
alto saxophones with harp. He then introduces a series of variations over a repeating bass line
that connects Prelude to the Baroque passacaglia. The wistful first theme recurs at the end in the
strings, again with lovely harp accompaniment.
Ms. Falletta closes her selections from the Suite with Fair (the movement is also known
as Folk Festival). Listeners familiar with Stravinsky’s Petrushka know the madcap, frenetic
activity of a Russian fair. Here, Shostakovich presents a Neapolitan carnival scene with a
Russian/Soviet accent. Thanks to the racing clarinet theme, the movement has similar energy to
his popular Festive Overture; brasses, strings, and orchestral piano ensure that the pace never
slackens. Shostakovich’s flashy close provides a wonderful conclusion to these Gadfly excerpts.
The score calls for three oboes, three clarinets (all doubling alto saxophone), two
bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, harp, timpani,
glockenspiel, xylophone, triangle, snare drum, tambourine, tam tam, crash cymbals, bass drum,
celesta, piano, solo violin, and strings.
Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 19
Ludwig van Beethoven
Born 16 December, 1770 in Bonn, Germany
Died 26 March, 1827 in Vienna, Austria
Approximate duration 28 minutes
Beethoven's career in Vienna in the 1790s garnered him more prestige as a performer and
keyboard improviser than as a composer. Wishing to promote his considerable talents as a
pianist, he wrote many pieces for himself. Opus 19 falls into this category. In fact, it was the
first major work for piano and orchestra he completed. Despite its numbering as "Concerto No.
2" and its higher opus number (reflecting a later publication date of 1801) than the C major
Concerto, Op.15, the B-flat concerto is the earlier work. Recent scholarship indicates that
Beethoven may have composed parts of it as early as 1785, when he was still a teenager in Bonn!
Beethoven himself did not consider either of the first two piano concerti to be among his
finer works, but both pieces show him having graduated from gifted student to Viennese master.
And the Viennese public received him with delight. We know that he played the B-flat concerto
in public in March 1795; that performance is believed to be his début with orchestra in the
Austrian capital.
Op. 19 follows the Mozartean concerto model, with an extensive orchestral exposition in
the first movement preceding the soloist's entrance. Listeners more familiar with Beethoven's Cmajor concerto will be pleasantly surprised by the intimate, chamber-music like quality of this
work. Scored without trumpets or timpani, it permits more focus on the interaction of the piano
with the delicate wind instruments. The outer movements, especially the finale, have an
irresistible rhythmic vitality that encourages aural memory of their themes. The B-flat Concerto
is the forgotten jewel among Beethoven's piano concerti, and his cadenza gives us a tantalizing
glimpse at the young genius' improvisatory technique.
Beethoven scored the concerto for flute, 2 oboes, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, solo piano and
strings.
Variations on a Hungarian Folksong (The Peacock)
Zoltán Kodály
Born 16 December, 1882 in Kecskemét, Hungary
Died 6 March, 1967 in Budapest
Approximate duration 25 minutes
Folk music is at the heart of national identity. Few composers have embraced folk
heritage to the extent of Hungary’s Zoltán Kodály and Béla Bartók. Friends and colleagues, they
both traveled extensively through remote areas of Central and Eastern Europe and the Middle
East, collecting folk tunes. Inevitably, they assimilated these melodies, scale patterns, and
characteristic rhythms into their original compositions.
Both men retained a special affection for the indigenous songs of Hungary. When the
Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam commissioned Kodály to write a piece in honor of the
orchestra’s 50th anniversary jubilee, he found his source material in “Folszallott a pava” [“The
Peacock”], a folk song from the Somogy district in southwestern Hungary. Kodály regarded it as
quintessentially Hungarian. The text is a metaphorical cry for freedom:
Fly, peacock, fly,
Upon the county-house.
Poor prisoners
To deliver
The peacock flew
Upon the county-house,
But not prisoners to deliver.
The peacock flew
Upon the county-house,
Poor prisoners
To deliver.
Kodály’s choice was no accident. As war threatened and fascism strengthened its hold on the
European continent, he used this composition to make a political statement. Thus Variations on a
Hungarian Folksong (‘The Peacock’) is both a plea for freedom and an expression of
nationalism. When Willem Mengelberg conducted the premiere in Amsterdam on 23 November
1939, France and England had been at war with Germany for nearly three months, but the Nazis
had not yet invaded the Netherlands. (That would occur in May 1940.) The music’s message of
national pride and resistance to fascism was not lost on the audience. During the occupation, the
Nazis forbade performances of this work.
Kodály first used ‘The Peacock’ in a piece for men’s chorus in 1937, and would tap it
again in one of the pieces in his Bicinia Hungarica (1941). These orchestral variations are, by
far, his most ambitious treatment. The structure is roughly symmetrical: an introduction, 16
variations, and a finale. Within that framework, Kodály traverses a broad landscape.
The theme is pentatonic (think the black keys of the piano), which gives the folk song a
vaguely Far Eastern character. The slow introduction presents the tune in mysterious, rumbling
low strings; timpani add quiet drama. Clarinet and bassoon enter in canon, but not for several
minutes do we hear solo oboe in a clear statement of the theme.
Kodály’s extended introduction builds suspense with great effect, then bursts forth with a
gust of energy. Of the initial ten variations, only one exceeds a minute, and a half dozen are 30
seconds or less. They proceed sequentially, one blending seamlessly into the next. The music
favors dance rhythms in duple time, with splendid coloristic variety contrasting the orchestra’s
instrumental groups.
The second cluster of variations, Nos. XI to XIV, are longer and slower. No.XII, an
Adagio, is a giant slow crescendo with ominous commentary from the horns. After the climax, it
subsides, leading to a funeral march (Var. XIII) with an unusual section solo for the trombones.
Variation XIV, the last of the slow ones, features a gorgeous flute solo with harp and muted
tremolando strings that expands into a magical swirl of bird calls.
Kodály’s last two variations lead to the Finale, which pulses with the unmistakable
energy of Hungarian dance in irregular three measure phrases. This conclusion is itself a ternary
form. Two vivace sections enclose a grand peroration of the “Peacock” theme with a solo for the
concertmaster.
The exuberant conclusion is a thriller, radiant in its celebration of the now-familiar melody.
The score calls for three flutes (third doubling piccolo), two oboes (second doubling English
horn), two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, timpani,
glockenspiel, triangle, cymbals, harp, and strings.
Hungarian Dances Nos. 1, 4, and 5
Johannes Brahms
Born 7 May, 1833 in Hamburg, Germany
Died 3 April, 1897 in Vienna, Austria
Approximate duration 10 minutes
We don’t think of Brahms as a composer of pure entertainment music. He had as much
gravitas as any 19th-century master and is widely regarded as a great champion of absolute
music, music in its purest, most abstract form. Yet Brahms loved to quaff a stein or two of beer
with friends and, within his circle, was treasured for his droll sense of humor. His Hungarian
Dances are perhaps the finest examples of this side of his character: music for relaxation and
diversion, intended to give pleasure to both performer and listener.
Their music is familiar and beloved - better known to the general public than many of
Brahms’s concert works. Thus it comes as a surprise to many listeners to learn that Brahms
specifically denied authorship of their melodies. He looked upon these dances as arrangements,
yet his own personality is so evident in them that they beg for consideration as original
compositions. But if we deem them to be authentic Brahms, do we categorize them as music for
one-piano four-hands, solo piano, or orchestra? Versions for all three exist in Brahms's hand.
Other arrangements for a wide variety of instrumental combinations have followed, including
some by such luminaries as Joseph Joachim and Fritz Kreisler. These circumstances make the
Hungarian Dances unique among Brahms's compositions.
The Hungarian Dances consist of 21 individual pieces in four books. They were
published in two groups, the first in 1868 (parts 1 and 2) and the balance in 1880 (Parts 3 and 4).
All the first editions were for one-piano, four hands. Brahms issued the first ten for solo piano in
1872, then orchestrated three of them the following year. (Antonín Dvořák's well-known
orchestrations of Nos. 17-21 appeared in 1881.) The composition of these dances was an even
more complex and drawn out affair than this publication history indicates. The earliest of the
Hungarian Dances may have originated as far back as 1853. We know Brahms had begun
playing them for friends by the mid-1850s, for tales of such impromptu performances occur in
memoirs and letters of his contemporaries.
Two Hungarian Fiddlers
Brahms’s fascination with Hungarian gypsy music undoubtedly grew out of his
association with the Hungarian violinist Eduard Reményi, with whom he toured in 1853.
Reményi was responsible for introducing Brahms to Joseph Joachim, another Hungarian violinist
with whom Brahms was to have a more lasting and fruitful relationship. Nevertheless, before
Brahms and Reményi parted company, the young composer absorbed the flavor and panache of
the Gypsy style that was Reményi's specialty.
Like most 19th-century musicians, Brahms made no distinction between the folk music
of Hungary and Gypsy music. Not until Bartók and Kodály undertook their ethnomusicological
research in the early 20th century did the differences become clear. Thus Brahms described
these melodies in a letter to his publisher, Fritz Simrock, as "genuine Gypsy children, which I did
not beget but merely brought up with bread and milk." He seems to have been delighted by the
nourishment process. The Hungarian Dances gave him a change of pace from sonatas and
symphonies. Their lurching momentum and three-bar phrases are markedly different from
Brahms's customary style; so too is the episodic structure, with its abrupt changes in tempo,
mood, and thematic material.
Brahms scored the dances for woodwinds in pairs plus piccolo; four horns, two trumpets,
timpani, percussion, and strings.