Madison Symphony Orchestra Program Notes
March 9-10-11, 2012
86th Season / Subscription Concert No. 6
Michael Allsen

We are pleased to welcome back Carl St. Clair for this program, a conductor the orchestra remembers warmly from his previous visits in 2006 and 2007. Here he leads a program of three works, opening with the third symphony of Brahms, in many ways the most challenging of his symphonies for orchestral players. But well worth the effort—the third also includes some of Brahms’s most expressive music.  Our guest artists, the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, play Rodrigo’s Concierto Andaluz, a work inspired by the Flamenco rhythms of southern Spain. Spain was also the inspiration for Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol, a richly-orchestrated tour of Spanish dances with brilliant solos all around.

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)

Symphony No.3 in F Major, Op.90

Brahms wrote his Symphony No.3 in 1882-83, and the first performance took place in Vienna on December 2, 1883, with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Hans Richter. It has been performed several times by the Madison Symphony Orchestra, beginning in 1932, and most recently in 1999. Duration 39:00.

Brahms’s four symphonies came in two distinct pairs. The first symphony, result of nearly twenty years of work, was completed in 1876, and the cheerful second was written with much less effort a year later. The years after 1877 were happy and productive—Brahms wrote many fine chamber works, his two orchestral overtures, and his second piano concerto—but he didn’t compose a symphony for over five years. The third symphony was finished in 1883, and he began his fourth the very next year. The third is the shortest of all of them, and seems to have cost him the least effort—in all, he spent less than four months working on the score. (He had a head start: the two middle movements seem to have been adapted from an unfinished set of incidental pieces to Goethe’s Faust he had sketched in 1881.)  One factor that may have inspired Brahms to return to the symphony in 1882 was his friendship with pianist Hans von Bülow, who was conductor of the fine court orchestra at Meiningen. In 1881 Bülow offered to allow Brahms to use this ensemble, then one of the best orchestras in Europe, as a “rehearsal orchestra” and in November of that year, Bülow presented an excellent all-Brahms program.

The premiere of the Symphony No.3 in Vienna was a triumph (despite the best efforts of a a noisy claque of Wagnerians), and this work was quickly picked up across Europe, though it equally quickly picked up a reputation as an avant garde and “difficult” piece. And what was so hard about it? It is certainly one of the most harmonically adventurous of Brahms’s works, with unexpected key relationships, and an almost nervous alternation between major and minor in many passages. Of all of the Brahms symphonies, the third presents the greatest expressive challenges for the orchestra. Though each movement has great emotional peaks, nearly all of them begin and end quietly, the only exception being the forceful opening measures. There are no crashing final chords to work towards, and the interior of each movement calls for a great deal of musical sensitivity from every player.  It is also technically difficult, particularly with regards to rhythm. Though Brahms seemed to revel in creating phrases that did not fit neatly within duple or triple meter, this sort of rhythmic displacement is most prominent in the Symphony No.3. (If you watch carefully, you’ll notice vast stretches of music in the outer movements where the melody will seem to have little to do with Maestro St. Clair’s downbeat.) This rhythmic play becomes part of the genius of this work, though, as Brahms finds subtle ways of shifting the rhythm back on track. The challenges presented by the Symphony No.3 are well worth it: this is the work of a master symphonist at the peak of his powers.

The opening movement (Allegro con brio) begins with three massive chords, which contain a subtle symbol. The highest voice, the flute, rises through the pitches F - A-flat - F. Here, lifelong bachelor Brahms is spelling out a personal motto Frei aber froh (“Free but happy”)∏a sort of joking response to his recently divorced friend Joseph Joachim’s more melancholy musical motto F-A-E, Frei aber einsam (“Free but lonely”). This F-A-F motive will reappear in many forms throughout the symphony. The first group of themes is dominated by a passionate descending melody from the upper strings. The little clarinet figure that closes off this group is very nearly a quotation from Beethoven’s third symphony, and it is entirely possible that Brahms was making a sly reference to the Eroica in his own third. The second group begins with a quiet, pastoral theme from the solo clarinet, which leads to a short offbeat episode for the woodwinds, and a sweeping conclusion to the exposition. The development section begins with a minor-key transformation of the second theme in bassoons and cellos. A solo horn sings the F-A-F motto, the mood darkens, and the development closes with an ominous-sounding version of the opening theme. There is a full recapitulation, and then Brahms balances off the relatively brief development section with a highly concentrated coda.

Brahms’s favorite orchestral voice was the clarinet, and the Andante contains some of his most beautiful writing for the instrument. The clarinets lead a woodwind choir at the beginning as they play a hymnlike C Major theme, with soft echoes from violas and cellos. There is a slight variation, and then clarinet and bassoon present a more reflective second theme. After some initial hesitation, the entire string section enters with a passionate variation on the opening hymn. One idea presented in this movement that will receive much broader treatment in the finale is a two-note motive that is passed in call-and-response style between instrumental groups.  Both main themes are developed, and at the very end, upper strings introduce a broad new idea.

The third movement (Poco Allegretto) is set in a simple three-part form. The first section is based upon a lush Romantic melody laid out by the cellos. The trio, dominated by the woodwinds, has a marvelous rhythmic ambiguity that is resolved only when we hear fragments of the main theme in clarinets and flutes. The concluding section sets the main theme in solo horn, then solo oboe, and finally in the full string choir.

The finale (Allegro) begins with a whisper—strings playing a winding sotto voce melody in their lowest range. Trombone chords introduce a reference to the second movement, and the mood changes abruptly, as Brahms inserts an almost angry new idea, with subtle echoes of the F-A-F motto. The development section focuses on the opening melody, now passed between a series of solo woodwinds. Just as in the exposition the recapitulation builds up to a furious peak, but then there is an abrupt shift of gears. Brasses and woodwinds play a broad chorale, and the first theme of the opening movement gradually emerges in the strings. All of the harmonic obscurity is gone, and the movement closes in a mood of quiet benediction.

Joaquin Rodrigo (1901-1999)

Concierto Andaluz for Four Guitars and Orchestra

Rodrigo composed this work in 1966-67 for the guitarist Celedonio Romero and his sons Celin, Pepe, and Angel, who were soloists with San Antonio Symphony Orchestra at the premiere on November 18, 1967. The Romeros were also the soloists in our one previous performance of the Concierto Andaluz, in 1988. Duration 24:00.

In a long multifaceted career, Joaquin Rodrigo worked as a pianist, music critic, university professor, radio executive, and as an activist for the Spanish National Organization for the Blind. (Rodrigo was almost completely blind from age three as a result of Diphtheria.) However, from the 1940s onwards he was also recognized as one of Spain’s foremost composers. As a young man, he studied in Paris, the center of the avant garde, but Rodrigo described his own style as neocasticista (neo-traditional, or neo-classical). His mature music was rooted in distinctly Spanish forms and rhythms, and he was particularly focused upon the guitar, the most prominent instrument of Spanish traditional music. Here he was drawing on a Spanish guitar tradition that stretches back to the Renaissance, and incorporates a host of rich folk styles. His 1939 Concierto de Aranjuez—undoubtedly the most popular of all guitar concertos—was only the first of several Rodrigo orchestral works with solo guitar, guitar duo, or guitar quartet. He also composed a large number of important works for guitar alone.

The Concierto Andaluz was composed in 1967 in response to a commission by Celedonio Romero, and it is dedicated to Romero and his sons. Celedonio (1913-1996) was among the leading guitarists and guitar composers of his generation. He composed well over 100 works of his own for solo guitar and combinations of guitars and orchestra, but also commissioned works from major Spanish composers. Escaping from the repressive Franco regime in 1957, Romero and his family settled in California, and from the 1960s onwards, he toured extensively with his three sons. (The Romero quartet continues today with Celedonio’s sons Celin and Pepe, and grandsons Celino and Lito.) The members of the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet are the direct inheritors of this tradition—the four original members of the ensemble met at the University of Southern California, in 1980, when they were all students of Pepe Romero.

As in all of Rodrigo’s music, Spanish influence is clearly audible in the Concierto Andaluz, but its “Classicism” is evident in its small orchestra and its clear-cut musical forms. It is set in three movements, or “scenes.” The first of these (Tempo di bolero) has the guitars and orchestra constantly trading roles, with the incisive bolero rhythm always present. This moves into what Rodrigo describes as a section of “typically Andalusian” style—more lyrical and melancholy  The opening movement closes with a spirited bulieras—a Flamenco pattern rich in cross-rhythms. In the second movement (Adagio) the opening section refers to the Baroque chaconne: a constantly-repeating descending figure with guitar and woodwind arabesques around it. There is a more lively middle section centered on a long passage for the guitars—an extended cadenza—before a return of the solemn chaconne figure. The closing movement (Allegro gentile) returns again to themes that are based on Andalusian forms: its two main themes are inspired by a flowing sevillanas (a festival dance that alternates triple and duple and meter) and a more aggressive zapateado (the macho step dance of Flamenco).

Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908)

Capriccio Espagnol, Op.34

Rimsky-Korsakov completed the Capriccio Espagnol on August 4, 1887, and conducted the premiere six days later in St. Petersburg. The Madison Symphony Orchestra has performed this on four previous programs between 1943 and 1988. Duration 15:00.

Rismsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol (“Spanish Caprice”) dates from the 1880s, when the composer sketched out a Spanish-flavored fantasy for solo violin. While he was undoubtedly inspired by Edouard Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnol, one of the most popular solo violin works of the 19th century, Spanish music also had an exotic nature that made it very attractive to Russian audiences. He completely revised the piece in 1887 as a showpiece for the entire orchestra.

Rimsky-Korsakov was noted as a master of orchestration—his book on orchestral scoring is still a standard reference today—and the Capriccio is often held up as one of his finest efforts. Tchaikovsky sent him a gracious note after the premiere in 1887, hailing it as a “great masterpiece of orchestration.” The composer later responded—with no false modesty—in his own memoirs, writing that: “The opinion formed by both critics and the public that the Capriccio is a magnificently orchestrated piece is wrong. The Capriccio is a brilliant composition for orchestra. The change of timbres, the felicitous choice of melodic designs and figuration patterns, exactly suiting each kind of instrument, the brief solo cadenzas for solo instruments, the rhythm of the percussion instruments, and so on, here constitute the very essence of the composition, not its clothing, i.e., orchestration.”

While the Capriccio has long been an audience favorite, it is also a very satisfying piece to play. Every section in the orchestra has a chance to shine, and there are many virtuoso solo passages. Though Rimsky-Korsakov was apparently a relatively inept conductor, the players in the orchestra at St. Petersburg that premiered the work were impressed enough by the music to give him a very warm reception. At the first rehearsal, they applauded every movement, and Rimsky-Korsakov gratefully dedicated the score to them.

The Capriccio Espagnol is a sequence of five interconnected movements. All of its themes are of Spanish origin, cribbed by the composer from a little collection of songs he had in his library. The opening Alborada (a Spanish morning-serenade) is a brisk piece with brilliant solo passages for clarinet and violin. In contrast, the second movement is a quiet theme stated by the horns and a series of five increasingly passionate variations. After a re-orchestrated version of the Alborada, Rimsky-Korsakov presents a Scene and Gypsy Song, the Capriccio’s longest movement. This tempestuous section begins dramatically with a drum roll and trumpet fanfare before the violin plays a Gypsy-flavored cadenza. Things seem to get rolling for a moment, but the festivities are soon interrupted by further cadenzas from flute, clarinet, and harp.  The main them is a rollicking minor-key Gypsy melody that includes tasty bits for every section in the orchestra. The finale, an Asturian Fandango, opens with a raucous shout from the trombones and serves as a framework for further solo passages. A final reference to the Alborada serves as a coda.

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program notes ©2012 by J. Michael Allsen