Download Slavonic Dance, Op. 46, No. 8

Program Notes
Antonín Dvořák (1841–1904)
Slavonic Dance, Op. 46, No. 8
Instrumentation: 2 flutes, piccolo, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3
trombones, timpani, triangle, cymbals, bass drum, and strings.
Written in 1878, Dvořák’s first set of Slavonic dances was written originally for piano fourhands, and was orchestrated by the composer soon afterward at the request of his publisher.
Johannes Brahms was an early advocate for the music of Dvořák, and the Slavonic Dances were
inspired by the spirit of the Brahms Hungarian Dances. Dvořák wrote a second collection of
eight Slavonic dances in 1886, and dances from the entire collection remain popular with
audiences.
The final dance of the first set (the eighth Slavonic dance) is an example of a “Furiant,” which is
a characteristically Czech dance. Cast in G minor, the phrases oscillate from minor to major,
rhythmic groupings frequently shift from three to two, and the music alternates between loud and
subdued volumes. All of these features express a gentle smile and are designed to keep wouldbe-dancers entertained and always slightly off-balance.
Mason Bates (bn. 1977))
Cello Concerto, (2014)
Instrumentation: 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 B-flat clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns in F, 3 trumpets in C, 2
tenor trombones, bass trombone, tuba, timpani, percussion (3 players), harp, strings.
Mason Bates is originally from Richmond, Virginia. He studied with John Corigliano, David Del
Tredici, and Samuel Adler in an undergraduate BA degree in music composition and English
literature from the Columbia University-Juilliard School Exchange Program. He completed a
doctoral degree in composition in 2008 from the University of California, Berkeley. He has been
a DJ and techno artist, and has been composer-in-residence with the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra and most recently with the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
The music of Mason Bates has been performed by orchestras all over the world, and works like
“Alternative Energy” are attracting significant attention. The cello concerto that we will hear this
evening is a new work, having been premiered only a year ago. The piece was commissioned by
the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, and the Columbus
Symphony Orchestra with funding from the Johnstone Fund for New Music
“This cello concerto began with a friendship,” wrote Bates. “Josh Roman is beloved by just
about everyone who meets him, and I am no exception. Immediately apparent is his unusual
combination of enlightened prodigy and everyman approachability (he's from Oklahoma). I
noticed this when we first crossed paths in New York, where we were thrown together at the
inaugural YouTube Symphony in New York to improvise an electro-acoustic duo at Le Poisson
Rouge. That shotgun wedding left me mesmerized at his unmatched musicianship and technique,
and soon I was composing a fiendishly difficult solo work for him to premiere on his series at
Town Hall. He played it from memory. That experience proved to be a great warm-up for this
concerto. That it is premiering in Seattle is especially meaningful, as it is his former home and
also the home of my wife's family (they are the ones wearing cycling outfits in the audience).
The piece begins plaintively, with Josh floating over a restless orchestra, and the lyricism only
expands in the central slow movement. But by the final movement the rhythmic energy wins the
day, and at one point Josh even plays with a guitar pick. This is, after all, the same fellow who
played arrangements of Led Zeppelin at Town Hall, so I had to send him out with a bang.”
Hector Berlioz (1803–1869)
Symphonie fantastique Op. 14
Instrumentation: 2 flutes (one doubling piccolo), 2 oboes (one doubling cor anglais), 2 soprano
clarinets (one doubling Eb clarinet), 4 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 cornets, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, 2
ophicleides (played on tubas), 2 pairs of timpani, cymbals, suspended cymbal, tenor drum, bass
drum, bells (C and G) 2 harps, strings
There are a few works in any age that are so surprising and influential that they change the
course of history. This is one of those.
The Symphonie fantastique was inspired as a psychedelic experience; it is a quasi-operatic
unfolding with a plot that spins within a dreamscape. The protagonist of the symphony was
described by Berlioz as “a young musician of unhealthily sensitive nature.” Naturally, Berlioz
understood this character. He opened the symphony with the tune based on a song written in his
own youth. “It seemed to me suited to express the overpowering sadness of a young heart first
tortured by a hopeless love,” wrote Berlioz near the opening of his memoirs. “And I welcomed
it. It is the theme played by the first violins at the beginning of the largo in the opening of the
work…I put it in unchanged.”
As the slow introduction develops over several minutes, the protagonist takes narcotics to end his
suffering. The drugs prove not strong enough to kill him, but cause an extended “trip” during
which he comes across his lover in a wide variety of contexts. The tune that represents his lover
during this dream is an extended melody called an “idée fixe.” It is an “obsessed idea” which
returns in each of the remaining movements; transformed to reflect the circumstances and the
emotional condition of the dreaming protagonist.
“Anyone who now insists upon staying to examine individual details,” wrote Robert Schumann
about the remainder of this movement, “will be left behind and lose his way.” The music
continues to develop a stream-of-consciousness sensibility of reveries and passions. The music
finds its way back to C major as the movement closes in a passage marked “Religiosamente”
where the entire orchestra is asked to play as quietly as possible.
In the second movement, the protagonist is late and hurries toward a ball that is already
underway. We can hear the doors open and the wash of sound and excitement as he enters the
ballroom and hears a waltz. It is easy to imagine being surrounded by dancing motion of all
sorts. Suddenly he sees his lover. Everything becomes frozen. We hear the “idée fixe.” Listen for
the amazing way in which the waltz gradually returns as the lovers begin to move together, then
lose themselves in sound.
The third movement is about intimacy and its loss. It is tender and carefully balanced.
Transitions tend toward the minor; as if turning away. The opening begins with two characters
calling one another across a great distance. The English horn plays a tune, and is answered by an
off-stage oboe. The idea of sound coming from off-stage is a frequent device in French grand
opera. It makes the experience seem to transcend the limits of the stage. At the close of the
movement the English horn once again calls out across the distance. There is no answer from the
oboe…just an ominous thunder sounding. This can’t be good.
In the famous “March to the Scaffold” that comprises the fourth movement we enter the world of
nightmare. Brass and percussion introduce vivid colors in a new virtuosity of orchestral sound.
The lover is now an enemy and leads the protagonist to a guillotine. The movement ends as the
blade severs his head and a crowd of onlookers cheer.
The fifth movement finale is set as a prelude of invocations, parodies, and ceremonies that leads
to a raucous fugue. Fugues brought with them the association of the learned style, so the use of
fugue is the final parody to end all nightmares.
Strange as it sounds this symphony was not the end of the dream. Berlioz also wrote a
symphonic sequel called “Lelio; the return to life.”
Jeffrey Johnson
University of Bridgeport