The "bookends" of this second subscription concert are two well-known masterpieces. Liszt's symphonic poem Les Préludes is one of the great Romantic works of programmatic music. Beethoven's Symphony No.8, the most concise of his symphonies, is a work filled with wit and good humor. This performance of the eighth rounds out a complete set of performances of Beethoven's symphonies conducted by Maestro DeMain since 1995. Our soloist at these concerts is double bassist Edgar Meyer, who will play two works, beginning with a Romantic virtuoso showpiece, the Concerto No.2 by Bottesini. After intermission, Mr. Meyer will play his own newly-completed Concerto No.2.

Franz Liszt (1811-1886)
Symphonic Poem No.3: Les Préludes

Liszt completed a preliminary version of this work in 1851, but revised it extensively in 1852-54. Liszt himself conducted the premiere of Les Préludes in Weimar on February 23, 1854. The Madison Symphony Orchestra has played the work four times previously, in 1929, 1944, 1981, and 1985. Duration 15:00.

In 1847, Liszt settled into a relatively quiet position at the small German court of Weimar. At first glance, this seems a strange career move for one of the most stunning and widely-traveled virtuosos in an age of virtuosos. However Weimar was a congenial and art-loving city, where Liszt could live with his lover, Princess Carolyne von Sayn-Wittgenstein: a rather scandalous affair, as the Princess was married to a prominent member of the Russian Czar's court. As court conductor, he developed a fine orchestra and used his position to experiment with orchestral forms. List once wrote that "new wine demands new bottles," and created an entirely new form to contain his radical musical ideals, the symphonic poem. Liszt composed a dozen of these one-movement programmatic works in Weimar, each of which is a response to a non-musical story, image, or--as in the case Les Préludes--a poem.

The most popular of Liszt's purely orchestral works, Les Préludes, had its origins in an obscure choral piece. In 1844, Liszt began work on a cantata for men's chorus and orchestra titled Les quatre éléments ("The four elements"), a setting of poems by the French Romantic Joseph Autran. While the cantata was completed by 1848, and orchestrated by Liszt's assistant Joseph Conradi, it was never published or performed during Liszt's lifetime. (Though it remains unpublished to this day, Les quatre éléments was eventually premiered in Budapest...in 1993!) The cantata seems to have been put on the shelf, but Liszt may have written a now-lost "Overture to Les quatre éléments"--his associate Joachim Raff mentions orchestrating this piece in 1850. In 1851, Liszt described a "Meditation Symphony" that was almost certainly an early version of Les Préludes based on much of the same musical material. In revising this work, Liszt turned to literary inspiration. Autran seems to have been a rather second-rate poet, and List eventually turned to a friend and a fine poet named Alphonse de Lamartine. Lamartine’s Méditations poétiques is a lengthy contemplation of love, fate, warfare, and the pastoral landscape so beloved by the Romantics. During the revision of the symphonic poem, Liszt turned to Lamartine's poem, eventually creating an introductory note based upon the poem, published as a preface to the score:

"What is our life but a series of preludes to that unknown song of which the first solemn note is sounded by Death? Love is the enchanted dawn of all existence; but who is lucky enough not to have his first delights of happiness interrupted by some storm, the mortal blast of which dissipates Love's illusions, the fatal lightning of which consumes its altar; and where is the cruelly wounded soul who, on issuing from one of these storms, does not seek to rest his remembrance in the calm serenity of the life of the fields? However, man does not resign himself for long to the enjoyment of the beneficent warmth which at first charmed him in the bosom of Nature, and when 'the trumpet sounds the alarm' he rushes to his dangerous post, whatever the war may be which calls him to its ranks, in order to find in battle the full conscience of himself and the entire possession of his energies."

Putting the program aside, Les Préludes holds together wonderfully as a piece of music, and as an example of careful transformation of a single theme. The three-note motive that serves as the main idea is first heard in strings and ethereal woodwinds. This is gradually filled out into a full melody by the strings, and then into a valiant statement by the brass. A much calmer expansion of the theme by the low strings leads to a pastoral moment led by the horns. There are hints of a battle in the strings that quickly bring in the brass. The solo oboe ushers in a varied recapitulation of the pastoral music. The music gradually becomes more martial in character, and the piece ends with a grand heroic coda.
 

Giovanni Bottesini (1821-1889)
Concerto No.2 in B minor for Double Bass and Orchestra

Bottesini composed this concerto in 1845. This is our first performance of the work. Duration 19:00.

Though he came to be known as the "Paganini of the Double Bass," Bottesini took up the instrument almost by default. After studying composition and violin as a young child in Parma, he applied to Milan Conservatory in 1835, only to find that the only remaining scholarships available were for bassoon and double bass. Within a few weeks, he had become proficient enough on bass to be admitted, and within four years, he won the Conservatory's highest prize for solo playing. Though he played for a few years in Italian orchestras and spent a short time as the principal bassist in the orchestra of Havana's Teatro de Tacôn, Bottesini soon went on tour as an independent virtuoso. There was very little in the way of solo bass repertoire, so Bottesini created his own: adapting works for cello, writing variations on popular opera arias, and writing new concertos. Like the violin works of his great Italian contemporary Paganini, these are true virtuoso works, exploiting the very limits of the instrument's technique and employing a battery of technical tricks. Bottesini also went on to a moderately successful career as an opera composer, writing both serious and comic works. In the late 1860s, he became a well-respected conductor--among his many credits was leading the premiere of Verdi's Aïda in 1871. However, Bottesini is remembered today almost exclusively for his solo bass works.

The Concerto No.2 was composed for Bottesini's own concerts, and was originally written for solo bass and string quartet. It remained unpublished until 1950, but quickly became a standard work for the instrument, becoming familiar both as an orchestral work and in a piano reduction. Mr. Meyer, who calls this "my favorite piece in the bass concerto repertoire," has created the version heard at these concerts, in particular writing the extended cadenzas for the first and third movements. The opening movement (Allegro moderato) is set in sonata form. After an initial orchestral tutti, the bass presents an agitated main theme, and a brighter, more songlike second idea. The orchestra picks up both of these ideas in an extended development, supporting increasingly rapid figuration in the solo part. The enormous solo cadenza features a flashy variety of techniques, from rapid glissandi (sliding across the entire range of the instrument) to long passages in double stops. When the orchestra is finally ushered back in with a series of trills, it serves as the background to a fiery coda in the solo part.

In the second movement (Andante), Bottesini evoked contemporary opera, creating a lush bel canto aria for the bass, played above a simple background of pulsing strings. The finale (Allegro) breaks this mood abruptly with a serious march-like theme that is quickly picked up and elaborated in the solo part. Meyer's solo cadenza covers an astonishing six octaves, and when the orchestra returns, the bass ferociously elaborates the theme. There is one brief surprise at the end--a distinctly Hungarian-sounding march--before a final burst of solo fireworks.
 

Edgar Meyer (b. 1960)
Concerto No.2 in B for Double Bass

Meyer originally composed this work in 2003, and it was first performed in Germantown, TN on April 12, 2003 by the IRIS Chamber Orchestra, Michael Stern, conducting. Meyer revised the work extensively, and this new version of the concerto was premiered earlier this year (April 8) by the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. These concerts by the Madison Symphony Orchestra are the second performance of this new version. Duration 23:00.

Edgar Meyer is of course known as a great performer, but he has also been acutely conscious of the fact that the repertoire for his instrument is limited. The violin and cello have a seemingly endless supply of concertos and solo works written by the greatest of composers, where the double bass had, until the late 20th century, only a handful of virtuoso solo pieces. Meyer addresses this issue, and his own response as a composer in a short essay:

"The double bass is not blessed with much significant repertoire in classical music. Among the probable causes would be a lack of strong proponents in 18th and 19th centuries, a lack of projection compared to the violin or especially the piano, and the simple fact that its most natural register is lower than most people would perceive as melodic.

"The 20th century has brought a change in these conditions. There have been a number of strong proponents of the instrument, especially in jazz, where the bass’s indigenous involvement is almost completely opposite to the classical lack of repertoire, and where the open-ended creative opportunities have attracted a high level of talent. Advances in technology have benefited the bass immensely, both in terms of amplification and especially recording, allowing the instrument to be heard more clearly. Finally, the tremendous improvement in the playing standard (partially a result of the previous two conditions) has made the instrument generally more pleasant to listen to, and in some cases also including a more useful high register.

"As a young person, it was 18th and 19th century classical music along with jazz, bluegrass, and other types of music evolving in the century that made me have to go into music. The pieces heard this week reflect this. Often (but not always) written for recordings and always assuming a high level of competence, they are clearly written in the setting previously described. Another consistent feature is the emphasis on dialogue with the other instruments, something almost entirely lacking in the existing classical repertoire.

"Although the need for repertoire is a powerful motivation for composing, it is not the primary one. All musicians aspire to find their voice, which, for lack of a better way to explain it, is their way of understanding themselves and their world and of reaching out to others around them. Additionally, and more specifically I use composing as a way of exploring music, particularly aspects that I don’t perfectly understand. It has been my experience that the pieces of which I am most proud are the ones that during the writing of them, I learned the most."

As a composer, Meyer has produced a tremendous range of music, from pieces written for Bluegrass and Country sessions to large-scale classical chamber and orchestral works. One of the things that strikes a listener, after even a brief sampling of his many recordings is the breadth and depth of the musical styles that surface in his works. The influence of Bluegrass and a broad range of American "roots" styles is there in many pieces, but he also draws upon many classical and non-Western styles as well. Meyer also has a well-deserved reputation as generous and creative musical collaborator, working successfully with musicians as diverse as Bela Fleck, Yo Yo Ma, and Garth Brooks. His newest piece, for example--to be premiered in Nashville in September 2006--is a Concerto for Banjo, Double Bass and Tabla, a collaboration between Meyer, Fleck, and Indian classical virtuoso Zakir Hussain. In 2002, Meyer's unique career was recognized with a prestigious MacArthur Grant.

His second concerto for solo double bass was originally composed for a commission by the IRIS Chamber Orchestra. After its 2003 premiere, Meyer decided to rework the concerto, eventually abandoning the first two movements of the 2003 concerto, and writing entirely new music. This new version, was completed on March 28, 2006, shortly before its premiere in Los Angeles. The work retains its chamber orchestra scoring: strings, pairs of woodwinds, four horns, and timpani, but no trumpets or low brass. The most unique aspect of the score is an unnamed instrument comprised of 73 carefully tuned PVC pipes, developed by Meyer and Sam Bacco, principal percussionist of the Nashville Symphony Orchestra, who joins us for these performances. The pipes, played with mallets, are tuned in quarter tones over a three-octave range. In an interview with LACO program annotator Stephen Ledbetter, Meyer described its sound as "dry" and "cool" and a perfect counterpoint to the more lyrical sound of Meyer's playing. The concerto has not been played since its premiere, and the version heard at these performance features additional refinements by the composer.

The first movement has the broad outlines of a traditional concerto opening, though Meyer uses this form in an inventive way. The main theme is heard first in the bass's upper register, with light accompaniment by strings and woodwinds. A second group of ideas presents a sharp contrast: a thick orchestral texture and a wandering and sharply accented quarter tone line from the PVC instrument. The bass's reply to this is an angular melody, accompanied by a PVC ostinato. A central section features a new idea, an alternation between quick lines from the bass and increasingly complex responses from the woodwinds. A transition and a gradual acceleration lead to a recapitulation of the second group of ideas. A brief episode with a delicate conversation between the solo bass and first violins leads to a return of the main theme. After a brief interruption by muted strings, the bass rounds off the movement with a final development of the opening melody.

The second movement begins with a quiet orchestral passage, before the bass enters on a simple songlike melody over PVC accompaniment. This melody is soon picked up by the woodwinds, and will reappear in several guises during the course of this movement. In the middle of the movement, the bass plays more agitated pizzicato music. This is eventually combined with the main theme, before the movement ends with a reprise of the opening music, now decorated by the soloist.

The final movement is a kind of rondo, organized by repeats of few main ideas. It begins with a fiery solo line from the bass, with short comments from the PVC instrument and strings. The orchestra suddenly breaks in with a forceful offbeat figure that serves as a refrain throughout the movement. The bass responds with an even more angular line, now accompanied by improvised counterpoint from the PVC player. The solo line returns briefly to its opening solo, but soon introduces a new idea, which is constantly interrupted by the orchestra. A contrasting section, is carried entirely by the orchestra, with occasional PVC bursts. There is a full recapitulation of the opening music before the bass begins an intensely rhythmic coda. The concerto ends with a flourish that rises four octaves to the extreme upper range of the instrument.
 

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Symphony No. 8 in F Major, Op. 93

Beethoven's eighth symphony was written in 1811-1812. The first performance took place in Vienna, on February 27, 1814. This piece has been performed twice at these concerts, in 1959 and 1981. Duration 25:00.

Beethoven's eighth symphony was one of the final products of what his biographers have called the "heroic decade"--ten years of amazing creativity between 1802 and 1812. At the beginning of this period is a revealing document known as the "Heiligenstadt Testament"--in which Beethoven comes to terms with his ever-encroaching deafness. In the face of this, the ultimate challenge to a composer, his output over the next decade was indeed heroic: the third through eighth symphonies, the "Razumovsky" quartets, the final two piano concertos, the violin concerto, Fidelio, and dozens of smaller works. At the end of this period, there is a series of letters to a woman he identifies only as his "Immortal Beloved"--almost certainly a young woman named Antonie Bentano. This was apparently Beethoven's last great romantic attachment.

The eighth was written in tandem with the seventh in the winter of 1811 and 1812, and they were completed within weeks of one another in the fall of 1812. They are very different works, however. The seventh is a big, sprawling, boisterous piece with vastly expanded forms in nearly every movement. In contrast, the eighth is a little jewel. One of the shortest of Beethoven's symphonies, it returns to the more compact dimensions of Haydn and Mozart, and pays tribute at several points to 18th-century symphonic style. It also contains some of Beethoven's most subtly comical musical moments. Years later, Hector Berlioz said of the eighth: "Naiveté, grace, gentle joy...do not exclude grandeur in the form of art which reproduces them. This symphony, then, seems wholly worthy of those that preceded and followed, and is more remarkable because it is in no way like them." The symphony's brightness and good humor are all the more remarkable in light of Beethoven's troubled life at this time: almost total deafness and the end of any hope for lasting romance. This jolly symphony was in fact completed just after a horrendous argument with his brother Johann that resulted in their lasting estrangement.

The first performance of the Symphony No.8 was an Akademie, a concert staged for Beethoven's benefit in the Redoubtensaal, a large concert hall in Vienna's imperial palace. The program also included repeat performances of the seventh and the shallow, but wildly popular "battle symphony" Wellington's Victory, both of which had been premiered a few months earlier. Though the Symphony No.8 was to be the centerpiece of the concert--advertisements for the event promised "an entirely new symphony, never heard before"--the eighth was clearly upstaged. It was received with polite applause and no more. One review of the concert said the audience: "...was not sufficiently gracious after the performance, and the applause which it received was not accompanied by that enthusiasm which distinguishes a work which gives universal delight."

It begins with a delicious opening movement (Allegro vivace e con brio) set in sonata form. It is a miniature by the standards of Beethoven's other opening movements but all of the necessary elements are here. The exposition begins with a bright group of main themes, and there is a brief transition that concludes with a witty little moment. (If you blink, you'll miss it.) The bassoon is briefly left alone--like the party guest who finds herself suddenly talking away loudly during a short lull in the conversation--before the strings enter with the lyrical second theme. The exposition closes with a surprisingly aggressive codetta. The development is dramatic, with loud interrupting brass chords, but the drama is all decidedly tongue-in-cheek. This sense of deliberately overblown drama continues in the recapitulation and coda, with several theatrical pauses for effect. The very ending however, is a droll little statement of the opening theme.

In Beethoven's symphonies, the designation Scherzo came to mean a fast, light movement, but in the second movement, marked Allegretto scherzando, the word retains its original Italian meaning: a trifle or a joke. The movement as whole is a joke directed at one of Beethoven's best friends, an amateur musician and inventor named Johann Nepomuk Mälzel. Beethoven and Mälzel had worked together in perpetrating Wellington's Victory, and Mälzel had recently invented the first metronome. The insistent repeated chords that are heard throughout this movement are an orchestral version of a ticking metronome. There are a few contrasting episodes (breaks to rewind?), and in the end the metronome winds down, leaving the orchestra free to rush ahead into a short blustery coda.

In late 18th-century symphonies, the third movement was invariably a courtly Minuet. Beginning with his second symphony, Beethoven replaced the Minuet with a faster, and undanceable Scherzo. With deliberate irony, the eighth has a Minuet. This is no powdered-wig affair, though, but a robust dance that seems to pay tribute to Beethoven's former teacher Haydn, who had died a few years before. The central trio section places a horn duet and solo clarinet above a rumbling bass line. The movement closes with a repeat of the Minuet.

The last movement (Allegro vivace) begins with a furiously rushing theme, stated first quietly by the strings and then shouted by the entire orchestra with oddly-placed accents. The second theme seems almost like a kind of afterthought and is disposed of very quickly. The development section is a brief fugue that never really off the ground. Real development is saved for a tremendously long coda that seems like a parody of conventional Classical symphonic conclusions. The coda is usually there to reassure us that we are indeed back to the tonic key. The ending here overstates the point just enough to be hilarious.
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program notes ©2006 by J. Michael Allsen