2008-2009 Concerts
Made in the U.S.A.
Sunday, April 26, 2009 at 7 p.m.
Washington Center for the Performing Arts
Conductor
Huw Edwards
Guest Artist
Megan Watson
Concert Sponsor
Made in the U.S.A. |
|
|---|---|
| John Philip Sousa (1854-1932) |
March- El Capitan |
| Amber Gudaitis (Born 1982) |
Columbia River Narrative (2006) |
| Aaron Copland (1900-1990) |
Clarinet Concerto I. Slowly and expressively - cadenza - II. Rather fast |
Ms. Watson INTERMISSION |
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| Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904) |
Symphony No. 9 in E minor, Op. 95 "From the New World" I. Adagio - Allegro molto II. Largo III. Scherzo: molto vivace IV. Finale: Allegro con fuoco |
Program Notes
March from the operetta El Capitan
John Philip Sousa (1854-1932)
Sousa was rightly known as the "March King" and he penned over 100 marches for numerous occasions, ensembles and sundry organizations. El Capitan is a little different as it is actually taken from an operetta which Sousa composed in 1896. A men's chorus from Act II forms the basis for this uplifting music and illustrates Sousa at the height of his creative powers. Another memorable feature of this 2-minute masterpiece is the reversal of customary meters for Sousa: the march proper is in 6/8 time but slides into 2/4 for the sly and peppy trio section (which always reminds me of "A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down" from Mary Poppins!)
Columbia River Narrative (2007)
Amber Louise Gudaitis (born 1982)
Columbia River Narrative is much like an evening in the Pacific Northwest, a setting of crisp scent and deep colors. Hearing the piece is meant to instill a similar feeling as standing in the midst of dark pines, feeling the stark wind against one’s skin. I attempted to capture a sensation of strong atmosphere, a forceful movement silent in itself, but whose presence is felt deep in the soul, stirring us into an ominous feeling of inconsequence.
The piece begins with a harsh declaration of three jarring chords. The intensity is meant to be massive and shocking, much like the awe experienced in the face of the towering Mt. Hood. This progression repeats throughout the piece, at times more subtle, like a recollection of fear, but often in the same exclamatory manner; with an anger not unlike the first harsh word of an argument. In actuality these chords are but the first in a full phrase, a sentence referred to but never completely stated except in a rather grandiose moment reserved for the rage of brass and drums.
Despite the temper of the opening theme, delicate moments also speak. For example, a single instrument section, such as the flutes, will present themselves in a low and vulnerable place of their range, naked and unyielding under the urging of the lower woodwinds. And, in a different spirit, a single trumpet decorates the timbre of the strings in introspection. My hope was that these types of interactions would prompt images such as the flicker of the sun or the shy retreat of a flower in the breeze.
Vibrant scenes exist in the Pacific Northwest. The idea that grand magnitudes of elegance, like the endless reach of a mountain, can exist alongside such a modest beauty as the human heart - this is a concept of great enormity. While my small piece is far from rivaling this elegance, I humbly state that it was this beauty that inspired it.
Clarinet Concerto
Aaron Copland (1900-1990)
Copland and his music have influenced practically every American composer from the topsy-turvy 20th century; he is viewed as America’s "Romantic" composer. Following his big wartime successes, such as the Third Symphony and the ballet Appalachian Spring, Copland was drawn to jazz and Blues idioms. The brilliant Concerto for Clarinet was composed upon a commission, in 1947, from the legendary clarinetist, Benny Goodman. (Goodman had already received commissioned works from some other "serious composers", most notably Bela Bartok and Paul Hindemith.) Copland began sketching the work while in Rio de Janeiro and completed the orchestration--an interesting blend of strings, harp, and piano--following the 1948 summer festival at Tanglewood, in Massachusetts.
Thankfully, the composer left compendious thoughts and notes in Vivian Perlis' monograph Copland Since 1943, so the following are Copland's own comments about the Clarinet Concerto:
"I would never have thought of writing a Clarinet Concerto if Benny had not approached me for one...I had long been an admirer of Benny Goodman, and I thought that writing a concerto with him in mind would give me a fresh point of view. The first movement is in a languid song form composed in 3/4 meter, rather unusual for me, but the theme seemed to call for it. The second movement, a free rondo form, is a contrast in style--stark, severe, and jazzy. The movements are connected by a cadenza, which gives the soloist considerable opportunity to demonstrate his prowess, while at the same time introduces fragments of the melodic material to be heard in the second movement. The cadenza is written fairly close to the way I wanted it, but it is free within reason--after all, it and the movement that follows are in the jazz idiom. It is not ad lib as in cadenzas of many traditional concertos; I always felt that there was enough room for interpretation even when everything is written out. Some of the second movement's material represents an unconscious fusion of elements obviously related to North and South American popular music: Charleston rhythms, boogie, and Brazilian folk tunes. I did not have a large battery of percussion to achieve jazzy effects, so I used slapping basses and whacking harp sounds to simulate them. The Clarinet Concerto ends with a fairly elaborate coda in C major that finishes off with a clarinet glissando--or 'smear' in jazz lingo."
Symphony No. 9 in E minor, Op. 95 ("From the New World")
Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904)
Although Dvorak lived and worked during the high noon of the late-Romantic era, he rarely revealed much about his inner thoughts--this at a time when it was the norm to be positively autobiographical in musical compositions. Despite his early mentors being Liszt and Wagner, Dvorak did not adopt their extrovert and programmatic style. It may well be because his orchestral works are blessed with gorgeous tunes that one forgets the person behind the pen in the flow of beautiful expression. At times, and then only primarily in his chamber works, Dvorak would reveal a little of "the man within"--something he undoubtedly inherited from his other lauded mentor, Johannes Brahms. This self-revelation occurs in several of his late pieces--works written during his Indian Summer in the United States--when Dvorak was far-removed from the comfort of his native environs.
Dvorak exhibits an unyielding love for his beloved Czechoslovakia in his "American period" works, a feeling which, on occasions, borders on chronic homesickness. This personal feeling imbues the famous Ninth Symphony--the one that flies under the distinctive sobriquet "From the New World"--which is far more Bohemian in tone than turn-of-the-century American. The shy Czech composer stayed in this vast continent, somewhat reluctantly, during his tenure as Director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York (1892-5). The E minor Symphony was composed during 1893. Although much of it was outlined amid the hustle-and-bustle of Manhattan, Dvorak and his family--country bumpkins at heart--enjoyed a summer recess among the Czech farming settlement at Spilleville, Iowa, where composition poured forth more freely. While based in this country Dvorak became intrigued by African-American folksongs, the style and contour of which gradually crept into his music--most notably the "American" String Quartet in F major, op. 96, the sublime Cello Concerto, op. 104, as well as this valedictory Symphony. As Robin Golding remarks: "It should be remembered that in neither the symphony ['From the New World'] nor the quartet did Dvorak make use of actual African-American themes: he merely absorbed the idiom, with its use of the pentatonic scale and its tendency towards dotted or syncopated rhythms, and then wrote his own tunes. That is the only sense in which either work can be called 'American'; in other respects they are as characteristic of Dvorak as anything he wrote in Czechoslovakia."
One reason for the evergreen appeal of the Ninth Symphony is the seamless and effective way in which Dvorak combines his love of Europe (the Old World) with the tangy harmonies and imitative folk tunes from America (the New World). The feeling of nervous ambiguity and the palpable sense of homesickness is very evident. From the cautious opening measures of the Adagio preface, the music seems to be striving for a focus and a home-away-from-home tonality. The music soon whips into a state of panic, with seismic thwacks from the timpani being answered by dissonant chords in the full orchestra. The horns announce the first theme of the Allegro, which skips along at a fair clip. Again, oceanic swells in the full orchestra impart a vivid sense of drama to the music. The soft and lyrical second theme, played by the flutes, is one of Dvorak's "American-style" melodies, with its infectious modal accompaniment. At times the music sounds as if has jumped from the page of one of the composer's Slavonic Dances and, at others, there is a definite American coloration to the phrases. The development section is very active and the themes grind against each other. This thrilling movement is in a constant state of flux and it contains everything: wildness, febrility, agony, surprise, and ecstasy.
The second movement (Largo) begins, again, with an unnerving sense of mystery, as a chorale in the brass emerges from the all-encircling gloom. This startling beginning paves the way for one of the most famous melodies in the whole spectrum of symphonic music--a lavish theme for the husky-voiced English horn. (This tune is known to many as "Goin' Home", but only long after the Symphony had secured a place in the main repertory.) In a New York Herald interview published the day before the Symphony's first performance in the, the composer revealed that this second movement was, "in reality a sketch for a longer work, either a cantata or an opera, which I propose writing, and which will be based on Longfellow's Hiawatha." This explains the capricious nature of the movement, which is rich in incident. Lissome strings join in the famous melody and the music smolders as it traverses a range of peaks and valleys. Another lingering theme for flutes--but this time in the minor key--casts another shadow on the music's countenance and the brass rise to the fore as they recall a theme from the first movement. Dvorak pares the orchestra down to a string quartet, who are overcome with a hesitant gait and yawning fermatas. The setting sun holds sway in the end, with many golden and ethereal effects, which transport us to the movement's tranquil conclusion.
Dvorak shatters the peace at the beginning of the ebullient Scherzo, which is very much like a Czech-dance Furiant. In the aforementioned interview, the composer commented, "that the Scherzo was suggested by the wedding feast in Hiawatha, where Indians dance." There are many tempo fluctuations in the course of the movement and there is a delectable arch and curve to the melody of the Trio section. Echoes of themes from earlier movements are again woven into the fabric of the movement, which creates a macabre feeling of skeletons emerging from the cupboard.
The final movement is one of the most exciting passages in the orchestral repertoire. After its intense beginning (one can hear where the theme from Jaws originated!) the music gathers a headlong momentum for its energetic route. There are many memorable episodes in this dynamic movement--including a snippet that is reminiscent of the song "Three Blind Mice". Themes from the three earlier movements of the Symphony are recalled into the active texture and there is something special for every section of the orchestra. The ending is riveting: Dvorak had obviously heard some jazz and other indigenous forms, as the Blues-sounding sequences in the bass give way to a mysterious wind chord that fades into the distance...as if the old is suddenly brought into focus amid the excitement of the new.
Program Comments Copyright 2008 by Huw Edwards
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