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TAKÁCS QUARTET October 5, 2012 HAYDN String Quartet in D Major, Opus 76, No. 5 Allegretto; Allegro Largo: Cantabile e mesto Menuetto: Allegro Finale: Presto BRITTEN String Quartet No. 2 in C Major, Opus 36 Allegro calmo, senza rigore Vivace Chacony: Sostenuto INTERMISSION DVOŘÁK String Quartet in F Major, Opus 96 “American” Allegro ma non troppo Lento Molto vivace Vivace ma non troppo String Quartet in D Major, Opus 76, No. 5 FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN Born March 31, 1732, Rohrau Died May 31, 1809, Vienna Haydn composed the six string quartets of his Opus 76 in 1796-7, shortly after returning from the second of his wildly successful visits to London. At age 65, he was nearing an important turning point in his life: soon he would turn away from instrumental music entirely and devote the rest of his life to vocal music. Behind him now were all 104 of his symphonies, and he was close to the end of the cycle of his string quartets–the present quartet is the 79th of his 83 quartets. Even as he wrote these last quartets he was beginning work on his oratorio The Creation. The Opus 76 quartets–sometimes nicknamed the “Erdödy Quartets” after the man who commissioned them, Count Joseph Erdödy–include some of Haydn’s most famous, among them those nicknamed “Emperor,” “Sunrise,” and “Fifths.” While the fifth of the cycle, in D major, lacks a nickname, it shows some unusual technical features. As might be expected, it also shows the consummate mastery of a composer who had spent a lifetime transforming the string quartet into one of the greatest of all musical forms. Particularly striking is the structure of the first movement. Haydn had for many years experimented with building sonata-form movements on just one theme, but here he goes even further, dividing the movement into two parts–each at a different tempo–yet using the same theme. The quartet opens with a lengthy Allegretto, based on the violin’s graceful opening melody. Hardly has this had a chance to unfold when the music slips suddenly into D minor, and the cello now has the theme beneath the first violin’s complicated embellishments. The music grows turbulent, then just as unexpectedly moves back into the D-major sunshine of the beginning. Only at this point does Haydn launch the Allegro, itself based on the opening melody, but this section (the first movement proper) is extremely short, almost abrupt. The unusual length of the slow movement gives it central importance. It also has a distinctive marking–Haydn stresses that he wants it to sound “Singing and sad”–but even more remarkable is the key signature, for Haydn sets the movement in the unusual key of F-sharp major. This is another monothematic movement, based on the violin’s dotted opening melody. The minuet is more conventional, though the expansive D-major minuet gives way to the tense mutterings of a trio in D minor. Some have heard the rustic music of village bands in the finale, marked Presto, but Haydn transforms this material into a sonata-form movement of unusual polish. Particularly impressive here are the range of the writing (the first violin part is extremely high for a string quartet) and Haydn’s deft use of silences to contrast with the cheerful thrust of this lively music. String Quartet No. 2 in C Major, Opus 36 BENJAMIN BRITTEN Born November 22, 1913, Lowestoft Died December 4, 1976, Aldeburgh On November 21, 1945, an unusual concert took place in London’s Wigmore Hall. That day was the 250th anniversary of the death of Henry Purcell, universally acclaimed England’s first great composer, and one of those represented on the program was Benjamin Britten. Britten, whose opera Peter Grimes had been triumphantly premiered six months earlier, had a lifelong passion for Purcell’s music. The following year he would write his Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, based on a great Purcell theme, and he would make arrangements of Purcell’s vocal music throughout his career, as well as a string orchestra version of Purcell’s Chaconne in G Minor. That anniversary concert saw the premiere of an original work by Britten that paid tribute to the earlier master, the String Quartet No. 2. Britten’s tribute to Purcell in this quartet is oblique: he quotes no music of Purcell, but the last movement–which dominates the structure–makes use of a technique that Britten associated with the earlier composer. The quartet is in three movements, and it is original from its first instant. Rather than adopting a standard sonata form, which opposes and contrasts material, Britten builds the opening Allegro calmo, senza rigore on three themes, all of which are announced in the first few measures and all of which are similar: all three themes begin with the upward leap of a tenth. The movement is centered around the key of C major, and the first statement of the theme begins on middle C, with each successive statement rising higher in the quartet’s register. The exposition of these three themes becomes so complex that a clear division of the movement into development and recapitulation is lost, and at the climax Britten is able to make all three themes coalesce into one simultaneous statement before the music falls away to a quiet close. The Vivace is a blistering–and very brief–scherzo in ternary form. Britten mutes the instruments throughout and moves to C minor for the outer sections; the music feels consciously nervous, skittering and driving constantly ahead. The central section, in F major and based on a variant of the scherzo theme, offers little relaxation–the sense of nervous energy continues even in the major tonality. The massive final movement–nearly as long as the first two movements combined–brings the tribute to Purcell. Britten calls this movement Chacony, the English name for the chaconne. This is a variation form: a ground bass in triple time repeats constantly, while a composer spins out variations above each repetition. As noted, Britten very much admired Purcell’s Chaconne in G Minor, and in tribute to the older composer he writes a chaconne as his finale. It is built on 21 repetitions of the nine-bar ground bass, which is presented in unison (in B-flat major) at the start of the movement. Britten groups his variations imaginatively: the first six are followed by a cello cadenza, the next six by a viola cadenza, the next six by a violin cadenza, and the final three drive to a conclusion that ringingly affirms C major. String Quartet in F Major, Opus 96 “American” ANTONIN DVOŘÁK Born September 8, 1841, Muhlhausen, Bohemia Died May 1, 1904, Prague Dvořák spent the years 1892-95 as director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York, and while he was burdened with a heavy teaching and administrative load, these years were very productive musically, seeing the composition of the “New World” Symphony, the “American” Quartet, and the Cello Concerto. This issue of a specifically “American” influence on these works has intrigued music lovers for years: how did life–and music–in America influence Dvořák? Nationalistic Americans were quick to claim that here at last was an authentic American classical music based on American materials, but Dvořák himself would have none of that. He denounced “that nonsense about my having made use of original American melodies. I have only composed in the spirit of such American national melodies.” Exactly what Dvořák meant by composing “in the spirit” of American music is unclear, and the tantalizing question of influence remains, especially in a work like the “American” Quartet. In the summer of 1893 Dvořák took his family to Spillville, Iowa, for a vacation away from New York City. Spillville was a Czech community, and Dvořák spent a happy and productive summer there, surrounded by familiar language, customs, and food. He sketched the “American” Quartet in only three days (June 8-10, 1893) and had it complete in fifteen. Dvořák’s comment was concise: “Thank God. It went quickly. I am satisfied.” Generations of listeners have been more than satisfied with this quartet. Quiet string tremolandi provide the foundation for the viola’s opening theme–its rising-and-falling shape and sharp syncopations will provide much of the substance of the first movement. A songful second subject in the violin has a rhythmic snap that some have felt to be American in origin, though such a snap is typical of the folk music of many lands. The development contains a brief fugal passage derived from the opening viola subject, but this passes quickly and introduces little complication into this movement’s continuous flow of melody. Many regard the Lento as the finest movement in the quartet. It too seems a continuous flow of melody, as the violin’s soaring theme–marked molto espressivo–arches hauntingly over throbbing accompaniment. This melody passes from violin to cello and on to the other voices; the ending–where the cello has this theme and the other instruments alternate pizzicato and bowed notes–is especially effective. The scherzo rips along cheerfully, its main theme sharing the rhythm of the quartet’s opening theme; about twenty measures into this movement, Dvořák gives the first violin a melody he heard a bird singing during one of his first walks around Spillville (bird-lovers should know that musicological and ornithological research has identified that bird as the scarlet tanager). The scherzo alternates this cheerful opening section with interludes that are in fact minor-key variants of that opening before Dvořák round things off with a da capo repeat. The most impressive thing about the rondo-finale is its rhythmic energy, in both the themes themselves and the accompanying voices. Some of the interludes recall the shape of themes from earlier movements before the blazing rush to the close–the coda of this movement is one of the most exhilarating Dvořák ever wrote. The issue of American influence–whether spiritual, rhythmic, or in the songs of native birds–on the music Dvořák wrote in this country will probably never be settled. Listeners may decide for themselves the ways in which this quartet seems to embody what Dvořák called the “spirit” of American music. Program notes by Eric Bromberger