Download Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten (1980)

Concerts of Thursday, November 21, 2013, at 8:00p, and Saturday, November 23,
2013, at 7:30p.
Thomas Søndergård, Conductor
Baiba Skride, Violin
Arvo Pärt (b. 1935)
Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten (1980)
Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Concerto in D Major for Violin and Orchestra, Opus 35 (1878)
I. Allegro moderato
II. Canzonetta. Andante
III. Finale. Allegro vivacissimo
Baiba Skride, Violin
Intermission
Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)
Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Opus 47 (1937)
I. Moderato
II. Allegretto
III. Largo
IV. Allegro non troppo
Notes on the Program by Ken Meltzer
Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten (1980)
Arvo Pärt was born in Paide, Estonia, on September 11, 1935. The Cantus in
Memory of Benjamin Britten is scored for chime in A and strings. Approximate
performance time is seven minutes.
First ASO Classical Subscription Performances: January 21, 22 and 23, 1999, Eri
Klas, Conductor.
On 4 December 1976, the music world lost one of its finest musicians with the death of
the British composer, pianist, and conductor Benjamin Britten. The prominent Estonian
composer Arvo Pärt was one of many who were profoundly saddened by the loss:
In the past years we have had so many losses in the world of music to
mourn. Why did the date of Benjamin Britten’s death—4 December
1976—touch such a chord in me? During this time I was obviously at the
point where I could recognize the magnitude of such a loss. Inexplicable
feelings of guilt, more than that even, arose in me. I had just discovered
Britten for myself. Just before his death I began to appreciate the unusual
purity of his music—I had had the impression of the same kind of purity in
the ballads of (14th-century French composer) Guillaume de Machaut.
And besides, for a long time I had wanted to meet Britten personally—and
now it would not come to that.
The haunting Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten is Arvo Pärt’s musical homage to
the great British composer. The Cantus (literally, “song”) is scored for a single chime
and strings.
The Cantus opens with three whispered tolls of the bell. The strings enter in staggered
fashion, offering rhythmic variants of a descending A-minor scale. The music proceeds
to a fff climax before resolving to an extended orchestral chord.
Concerto in D Major for Violin and Orchestra, Opus 35 (1878)
Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky was born in Kamsko-Votkinsk, Russia, on May 7, 1840,
and died in St. Petersburg, Russia, on November 6, 1893. The first performance of
the Violin Concerto took place in Vienna, Austria, on December 4, 1881, with Adolf
Brodsky as soloist and Hans Richter conducting the Vienna Philharmonic. In
addition to the solo violin, the D-Major Concerto is scored for two flutes, two oboes,
two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, timpani and strings.
Approximate performance time is thirty-six minutes.
First ASO Classical Subscription Performance: January 25, 1948, Robert Harrison,
Violin, Henry Sopkin, Conductor.
Most Recent ASO Classical Subscription Performances: September 30, October 1
and 2, 2011, Joshua Bell, Violin, Robert Spano, Conductor.
Tchaikovsky composed his only Violin Concerto during the spring of 1878. As
Tchaikovsky reported to his patroness, Nadezhda von Meck:
From the first moment that the right frame of mind came to me it has
never left me. With one’s inner life in this condition composing ceases
altogether to be work: it becomes unalloyed pleasure. While you are
writing you do not notice how time passes and if no one came to interrupt
you you would sit there and never leave your work all day.
Still, there were refinements to be made to the piece. Tchaikovsky solicited the opinions
of his friend, violinist Iosif Kotek, and the composer’s brother, Modest. Both were
dissatisfied with the original slow movement. Tchaikovsky replaced it with the beautiful
Canzonetta that forms the central movement of the Concerto (the original slow
movement ultimately became the opening Méditation of Tchaikovsky’s 1878 Souvenir
d'un lieu cher, Opus 42, for violin and piano). By the middle of April, Tchaikovsky had
fully orchestrated his Violin Concerto.
Tchaikovsky dedicated his Concerto to Leopold Auer, the great Hungarian-born violinist,
who was living and teaching in St. Petersburg. Auer, for whom Tchaikovsky also
composed his Sérénade mélancolique, Opus 26 (1875), declined to play the Concerto. As
Tchaikovsky recalled some years later:
I do not know whether Auer was flattered by my dedication—only that,
despite his sincere friendship towards me, he never wanted to master the
difficulties of this concerto, deemed it awkward to play—and that a
verdict such as this from the authoritative St. Petersburg virtuoso cast my
poor child for many years into the abyss, it seemed, of eternal oblivion.
It was violinist Adolf Brodsky who took up the cause for Tchaikovsky’s Concerto,
serving as soloist for the first performance, which took place in Vienna on December 4,
1881. Hans Richter conducted the Vienna Philharmonic. Tchaikovsky greatly
appreciated the courage displayed by Brodsky in premiering the work:
He has not yet fully established his position in Vienna and I know very
well that it was difficult and nerve-wracking for him to appear before a
Viennese audience with a concerto by an unknown composer, and a
Russian one to boot. For that reason I am doubly grateful to him for the
service he has rendered me.
“A brutal and wretched jollity of a Russian holiday”
The extent of Brodsky’s courage becomes even clearer when the circumstances of the
premiere are examined. The reaction by the audience and critics was unfavorable, to say
the least. The performance inspired the prominent Viennese critic, Eduard Hanslick, to
write one of the most (in)famous reviews in music history. For several months after the
concert, Tchaikovsky carried with him a copy of the review and, to the end of his days,
could recite verbatim Hanslick’s caustic prose:
The Russian composer Tchaikovsky is surely not an ordinary talent, but
rather an inflated one, with a genius-like obsession without discrimination
or taste. Such is also his latest, long and pretentious Violin Concerto. For
a while it moves soberly, musically, and not without spirit. But soon
vulgarity gains the upper hand, and asserts itself to the end of the first
movement. The violin is no longer played; it is pulled, torn, drubbed. The
Adagio is again on its best behavior, to pacify and win us. But it soon
breaks off to make way for a finale that transfers us to a brutal and
wretched jollity of a Russian holiday. We see plainly the savage vulgar
faces, we hear curses, we smell vodka. Friedrich Visser once observed,
speaking of obscene pictures, that they stink to the eye. Tchaikovsky’s
Violin Concerto gives us for the first time the hideous notion that there
can be music that stinks to the ear.
Still, Brodsky persevered in his advocacy of the Concerto, playing it throughout Europe.
In time, the merits of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto became clear. Even Leopold
Auer finally performed the work, as did such protégés as Mischa Elman and Jascha
Heifetz. But it was Adolf Brodsky to whom Tchaikovsky dedicated this beloved
masterpiece.
Musical Analysis
I. Allegro moderato—The Concerto begins with an orchestral introduction, during which
the violins foreshadow the movement’s main theme. The soloist enters and, after a brief
opening passage, presents the flowing, principal melody. There are some playful flights
for the soloist, followed by the presentation of another expressive, lyrical theme. A
stunningly virtuoso passage by the soloist leads to a grand orchestral proclamation of the
principal melody, soon incorporated once again by the solo violin. After another
orchestral statement of the theme, there is a fiery development section and a grand
cadenza for the soloist. Over the soloist’s trills, the flute ushers in the recapitulation of
the principal themes. The stunning coda again features the soloist in breathtaking
display.
II. Canzonetta. Andante—The brief and extraordinarily beautiful Canzonetta begins with
a passage for winds. The muted solo violin soon enters with the soulful principal
melody, echoed by the clarinet and flute. There is a contrasting, more wide-ranging
theme for the soloist, followed by a reprise of the opening melody. A variant of the
movement’s introductory measures serves as a bridge to the Finale, which follows
without pause.
III. Finale. Allegro vivacissimo—A boisterous orchestral statement and brief cadenza
serve as prelude to the soloist’s introduction of the energetic principal theme. The
soloist—over emphatic accompaniment by the cellos, and bassoon counterpoint—plays
the rustic second theme. A lyrical interlude twice serves as contrast to the repetition of
the principal melodies. The writing for the soloist throughout the Finale is brilliant,
perhaps nowhere more so than in the thrilling closing pages.
Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Opus 47 (1937)
Dmitri Shostakovich was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, on September 25, 1906,
and died in Moscow, Russia, on August 9, 1975. The first performance of the
Symphony No. 5 took place in Leningrad (St. Petersburg) on November 21, 1937,
with Evgeny Mravinsky conducting the Leningrad Philharmonic. The Symphony
No. 5 is scored for piccolo, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, E-flat clarinet, two
bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba,
timpani, xylophone, orchestra bells, triangle, snare drum, cymbals, tam-tam, bass
drum, harp, piano, celeste and strings. Approximate performance time is fifty
minutes.
First ASO Classical Subscription Performance: November 15, 1955, Henry Sopkin,
Conductor.
Most Recent ASO Classical Subscription Performances: March 20, 21 and 22, 2008,
Hugh Wolff, Conductor.
ASO Recording: Telarc CD-80215, Yoel Levi, Conductor.
“Muddle Instead of Music”
To this day, Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony remains shrouded
in mystery and controversy. On the surface, however, the facts surrounding the creation
of one of the great masterpieces of 20th-century music seem rather straightforward.
On January 22, 1934, the first performance of Shostakovich's opera Lady Macbeth of
Mtsensk took place in Leningrad. Lady Macbeth, a work Shostakovich described as a
“tragedy-satire,” lampoons the decadence of capitalism as personified by the kulaks—
comparatively wealthy peasants who resisted Soviet collectivization. But the composer’s
biting wit also extended to the police, depicted as brutes who oppress the people,
intellectuals in particular. Without question, Shostakovich treats the victims of police
oppression in Lady Macbeth with great sympathy.
Whatever Shostakovich’s intentions were regarding social commentary, they did not sit
well with Joseph Stalin, the tyrannical Secretary General of the Communist party. Stalin
walked out of the theater before the conclusion of a 1936 Bolshoi performance of Lady
Macbeth. Shortly thereafter, an article appeared in the official Communist newspaper
Pravda entitled, “Muddle Instead of Music.” Although the author of the article was not
identified, it was either written by Stalin, or penned under his direction and approval.
The author dismissed Lady Macbeth as a:
stream of deliberately discordant sounds…The music quacks, grunts,
growls, strangles itself in order to represent the amatory scenes as
naturalistically as possible....Lady Macbeth enjoys great success with the
bourgeois audience abroad...It tickles the perverted tastes of the bourgeois
audiences with its fidgeting, screaming neurasthenic music.
With a stroke of the anonymous writer’s pen, Shostakovich, once a shining light among
young Soviet composers, had become a Communist persona non grata. Under Joseph
Stalin’s regime, such a status could be tantamount to a death sentence—a fact
Shostakovich knew all too well. Shostakovich underwent an extended period of intense
reflection and soul-searching. In December of 1936, Shostakovich withdrew his Fourth
Symphony, a work he feared might inspire the same negative government reaction as
Lady Macbeth. In the spring of 1937, Shostakovich turned his attentions to the Fifth
Symphony, which he composed between April 1 and July 30, 1937.
A “Reply to Just Criticism”
The premiere of the Fifth Symphony took place in Leningrad on November 21, 1937, as
part of a festival in celebration of the 20th anniversary of the Soviet Republic. A
seemingly penitent Shostakovich offered the following subtitle for the work: “A Soviet
Artist’s Practical Creative Reply to Just Criticism.” Shostakovich also provided the
following analysis of the Symphony in an article entitled “My Artist’s Reply,” which
appeared just a few days before the Moscow premiere on January 29, 1938:
The birth of the Fifth Symphony was preceded by a protracted period of
internal preparation. Perhaps because of this, the actual writing of the
symphony took a comparatively short time (the third movement, for
example, was written in three days)...
The theme of my symphony is the development of the individual. I saw
man with all his sufferings as the central idea of the work, which is lyrical
in mood from start to finish; the finale resolves the tragedy and tension of
the earlier movements on a joyous, optimistic note.
The 1937 premiere, conducted by the composer’s longtime friend and advocate Evgeny
Mravinsky, was a resounding success. The following review by author Alexei Tolstoy
typifies the Soviet critics’ response:
The powerful, rousing sounds of the Finale stirred the audience. All rose
to their feet, infused with the joy and happiness streaming from the
orchestra like a spring breeze. We cannot but trust the Soviet listener. His
reaction to music is a just verdict. Our listener is organically unreceptive
to decadent, gloomy, pessimistic art, but he responds enthusiastically to
good art that is clear, bright, joyful, optimistic, viable.
The Fifth Symphony pleased the Soviet critics, and soon, the world at large. It appeared
that Shostakovich had succeeded in creating a work that managed both to glorify the
Soviet regime and appeal to international audiences. Shostakovich returned to
government favor, although he would be censured once again in 1948 for “manifestations
of anti-People formalism and decadence.”
“The rejoicing is forced, created under threat”
In 1979, four years after the composer’s death, Testimony: The Memoirs of Dmitri
Shostakovich, stunned the music world. The Shostakovich who emerged from this book
was far different from the one who had seemed to follow the Communist party line. For
the Shostakovich of Testimony, the Fifth Symphony was hardly a paean to Communism:
I think it is clear to everyone what happens in the Fifth. The rejoicing is
forced, created under threat, as in (Modest Mussorgsky’s opera) Boris
Godunov. It’s as if someone were beating you with a stick and saying,
“Your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing,” and you rise,
shaky and go marching off, muttering, “Our business is rejoicing, our
business is rejoicing.”
What kind of apotheosis is that? You have to be a complete oaf not to
hear that. People who came to the premiere of the Fifth in the best of
moods wept.
Shostakovich's friend and student, Solomon Volkov, compiled Testimony from what he
claimed were the composer’s own words. Many, including, not surprisingly, the Soviet
government, questioned the authenticity of Testimony. The controversy continues to this
day, although as time has progressed, many of Shostakovich’s friends and family
members have acknowledged that Testimony expresses the composer's real feelings. It
should also be mentioned that recent scholarship indicates the composer’s subtitle for the
Fifth Symphony—“A Soviet Artist’s Practical Creative Reply to Just Criticism”—was
forced upon him by the government in exchange for permission to present the work.
The conflicting views attributed to Shostakovich regarding his Fifth Symphony place the
interpreter and listener in a challenging position. Is the Fifth Symphony a work in praise
of—or a diatribe against—Soviet Russia? Are the Symphony’s closing pages
“optimistic” or “forced rejoicing?” Or, perhaps, are there other interpretations to be
considered? A consensus on these issues is as unlikely as universal agreement upon
whether Shakespeare’s Hamlet was mad. The greatness of a work of art like the
Shostakovich Fifth rests largely with its ability to resonate profoundly with each in a
personal, unique manner.
Musical Analysis
I. Moderato—The two principal themes of the sonata-form opening movement are
introduced in quick succession. The first is a violent ascending and descending motif
played in canonic fashion by the lower and higher strings. The first violins then play a
far more lyrical melody that, in its own poignant way, continues the tragic mood of the
opening measures. Toward the conclusion of the exposition, the first violins offer a
tertiary theme that is actually a soaring variant of the opening measures. The
development begins with a menacing, insistent rhythm in the piano and lower strings.
The lyrical second theme is now transformed into a far more ominous figure that finally
explodes into a battle march sounded by trumpets and drums. The entire orchestra offers
the powerful recapitulation of the opening themes. Suddenly, the mood changes with the
solo flute and horn’s lovely restatement of the soaring third motif. The peaceful closing
measures feature a magical combination of instruments, most notably the violin and
celeste.
II. Allegretto—The Allegretto, cast in traditional scherzo and trio form, has a brevity and
playful charm that stand in sharp contrast to the storm and stress of the opening
movement. The cellos and basses offer a rather lumbering prelude to the woodwinds’
introduction of the principal scherzo theme. An impish violin solo launches the trio
section. The scherzo soon returns in modified form. A solo oboe briefly attempts a
reprise of the trio, but is quickly overwhelmed by the orchestra.
III. Largo—In the slow movement, Shostakovich divides the violins into three sections,
the violas and cellos into two. The Largo opens with the third section of violins offering
the first of two main themes. The first violins play the second theme, initiated by three
repeated quarter notes. Several woodwind solos enrich the texture of this string-oriented
movement. The Largo, constructed as a massive arch, moves to a shattering climax
based upon the second theme. Once again, the mood returns to the repose of the Largo’s
opening pages, a marked contrast to the fury that is about to explode.
IV. Allegro non troppo—A brief orchestral trill precedes thundering timpani and a
proclamation of the militant opening theme by the trumpets, trombones and tuba. A
whirlwind of activity soon ensues, over which a solo trumpet introduces the second
principal theme. An oppressive restatement of the opening theme leads to an interlude
that generates ample tension, despite more restrained dynamics. The snare drum and
timpani herald a more subdued reprise of the opening theme by the clarinet and bassoons.
Soon, however, the music grows in violence as the principal themes are juxtaposed.
Suddenly, all conflict seems to be resolved, as the brass proclaims a blazing D-Major
transformation of the finale’s opening theme.