WENDY CHEN, PIANO At the age of fifteen, Wendy Chen debuted with the Los Angeles Philharmonic under conductor André Previn. In 1990 she became the youngest winner ever of the National Chopin Competition, was one of the inaugural recipients of the Irving S. Gilmore Young Artists Award, and was named a Presidential Scholar by the National Foundation for the Arts. Since then, her career has flourished, adding Young Concert Artists International Auditions and Washington International Competition to her numerous awards. Ms. Chen has garnered critical acclaim for her engagements with leading orchestras and concert halls worldwide, with reviewers exclaiming that “having pianist Wendy Chen on the program is a guarantee that sparks will fly.” Her numerous orchestral appearances have included the New York Chamber Symphony, the Cincinnati Symphony and Chamber Orchestra, the Phoenix Symphony, the Baltimore Chamber Orchestra, Uruguay’s Orquesta Sinfonica del Sodres, New Zealand’s Auckland Philharmonia and Wellington Sinfonia, Montreal’s I Musici and many others. The Dominion of New Zealand described that “Chen possesses all the qualities of a modern musical star. Her playing was cuttingly virtuosic, had fantastic clarity and crispness, yet also plenty of sensitivity.” Ms. Chen has also appeared with the Boston Pops and the Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra in unique programs that also featured musical legends James Taylor and Art Garfunkel, respectively. Of her performance with the Pops, the Boston Globe wrote “Chen’s performance had stamina, chops, brilliance and sensitivity – a formidable combination. She has given recitals throughout the world, including appearances in Prague’s Philharmonic Hall, Poland’s Warsaw Philharmonic Hall, Korea’s Seoul Arts Center, New York City’s Alice Tully Hall, Avery Fisher Hall, Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall, Washington D.C.’s John F. Kennedy Center, Toronto’s Glenn Gould Studio, Nexus Hall in Tokyo, The Forbidden City in Beijing, and at the United States Supreme Court, in a special evening presented by The Honorable Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Equally sought after as a chamber musician, Ms. Chen spent many years performing duo recitals with the late cellist Stephen Kates, a pupil of Gregor Piatigorsky. She regularly appears in duo recitals with cellist Andrés Diaz. She has appeared at the Tanglewood, Boston Chamber Society, Montreal, Seattle, Spoleto, Amelia Island, Strings in the Mountains, Cartageña, St. Denis and Montreux music festivals. Having studied with legendary pianists Aube Tzerko and Leon Fleisher, Ms. Chen is a dedicated pedagogue, frequently giving master classes throughout the world. She completed a five year residency teaching at the University of Louisville, and has taught at the Innsbrook Institute in Missouri, the Community School of Performing Arts in Springfield, Massachusetts, the International Festival of Music in Cartageña, Colombia, and The Juan Corpas University in Bogota, Columbia. Ms. Chen has appeared on St. Paul Sunday Morning, can be heard regularly on NPR’s Performance Today, and serves as panelist for the National Endowment for the Arts. Her solo recording BOLERO featuring works by Chopin, was released on the RCM label. American Record Guide acclaimed “it glitters and it is gold.”

RAYMOND MENARD, RECITER Raymond Menard is a New York based theater professional. In 1987 he joined the stage management staff of the Metropolitan Opera Association and now holds the title of Production Stage Manager. Prior to joining the Met, he was Staff Stage Director and Artistic Administrator for the New York City Opera. While at NYCO, he was honored with the Julius Rudel Award in recognition of his musical and administrative skills. In addition to his behind the scenes work, Ray has appeared onstage as Pasha Selim in Mozart’s ABDUCTION FROM THE SERAGLIO for Opera New Jersey and as King Bobeche in the Bronx Opera production of Offenbach’s BLUEBEARD. He is a frequent participant in the Met Live in HD and Sirius radio broadcasts. Ray studied music at the New England Conservatory of Music and theater at the PrattInstitute. Since 2010 he has served on the faculty of the Graduate School of the Arts of Columbia University. A New Jersey native, Ray makes his home in Boonton Township with his wife, Laura, and daughters, Amity and Isobel.

QIANWEN SHEN, VIOLIN As an orchestra musician, Qianwen Shen has served concertmaster of New World Symphony, New England Conservatory Philharmonic Orchestra, New England Conservatory Chamber Orchestra, Mannes School of Music. She was a fellow of Tanglewood Music Center in 2016. She has appeared in ensemble and solo performances at Carnegie Hall, Boston Symphony Hall, Victoria Theatre and Concert Hall of Singapore, Hong Kong Art Center Concert Hall, National Centre for the Performing Arts in Beijing China, Shanghai Music Hall, Shanghai Oriental Art Center. Ms. Shen has performed with Boston Symphony Orchestra, Minnesota Orchestra, Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. As an active chamber musician, Ms. Shen has been invited to YellowBarn Music Festival in 2014 and 2015, and Perlman Music Program in 2015. She has performed with the musicians from Cleveland Quartet, Emerson Quartet, Julliard Quartet, Takacs Quartet, and Peabody Trio. Born in Bengbu, China, She began playing the violin at age of four. Her principal teachers have included Lei Fang, Donald Weilerstein, and David Chan. Ms. Shen received her bachelor of music degree from Shanghai Conservatory of Music, and master of music degree and graduate diploma from New England Conservatory. She just finished her professional study diploma from Mannes School of Music with David Chan, Concertmaster of Met opera. Outside of Music, Ms. Shen loves reading, cooking, baking and hanging out with friends.

BRANNON CHO, CELLO Praised for his “burnished tone, spellbinding technique, and probing musical mind” (Boston Classical Review), cellist Brannon Cho has emerged as an outstanding artist of his generation. He is the First Prize winner of the prestigious 6th International Paulo Cello Competition, and is also a top prize winner of the Queen Elisabeth, Naumburg, and Cassadó International Cello Competitions. Most recently, Brannon Cho is the recipient of the 2020 Janos Starker Foundation Award, the Landgraf von Hessen Prize from Kronberg Academy, the 2019 Ivan Galamian Award previously held by James Ehnes, and is a scholarship holder in the Anne-Sophie Mutter Foundation. Brannon Cho has appeared as a soloist with many of the top orchestras around the world, including the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, Minnesota Orchestra, Chamber Orchestra of Europe, Belgian National Orchestra, Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra, and Brussels Philharmonic under world-renowned conductors such as Susanna Mälkki, Stéphane Denève, Christian Arming, and Hugh Wolff. As a lover of chamber music, Brannon Cho is a founding member of two groups: Trio Seoul with violinist Jinjoo Cho and pianist Kyu Yeon Kim, and a string trio with violinist Stella Chen and violist Matthew Lipman. Trio Seoul's recent recitals took place in Cleveland, Cincinnati, Toronto, and Montreal, among others. The string trio had its debut recital at Kronberg Academy's 2023 Alumni Festival to critical acclaim, and has had recent recitals in Jordan Hall, at Rockport Music, and at the Ravinia Festival. Brannon Cho’s recent and upcoming performance highlights include Carnegie Hall's Zankel and Weill Halls, Wigmore Hall, Han-Na Chang’s Daejeon Grand Festival, Herbst Theatre in San Francisco, Philadelphia Chamber Music Society, Rheingau Musik Festival, Vancouver Chamber Music Society, Cello Biënnale Amsterdam, Music in Pyeongchang, and Seoul Arts Center. Recently, he replaced Alisa Weilerstein in Prokofiev’s Sinfonia Concertante with the Belgian National Orchestra to critical acclaim. Born in New Jersey, Brannon Cho received his Bachelor’s degree from Northwestern University’s Bienen School of Music under Hans Jørgen Jensen. He was awarded the prestigious Artist Diploma from the New England Conservatory, where he studied with Laurence Lesser. He also studied with Frans Helmerson in the Professional Studies program at Kronberg Academy. Beginning in 2025, Brannon Cho has joined the faculty at the Robert McDuffie Center for Strings, and Northwestern University’s Bienen School of Music. Brannon Cho is sponsored by Thomastik-Infeld, and performs on a rare cello made by Antonio Casini in 1668 in Modena, Italy.

November 19, 2017: Los Angeles Guitar Quartet THREE BRAZILIAN PIECES Three Brazilian Pieces November 19, 2017: Los Angeles Guitar Quartet Da Sábado pra Dominguihnos – Hermeto Pascoal A Lenda do Caboclo – Heitor Villa-Lobos Samba Novo – Baden Powell In this set, LAGQ pays tribute to the rich sonorities and infectious rhythms of Brazil. Inspired by their collaboration in 2006-07 with the brilliant singer Luciana Souza, LAGQ recorded a new CD of Brazilian music for the Telarc label. It opens with a tune by the idiosyncratic jazz musician Hermeto Pascoal, sometimes referred to as the “Frank Zappa of Brazil”; his “Da Sábado pra Dominguinhos” is a fine example of the endless fount of tunes and surprising harmonic changes that characterize his music. We follow this with a lovely tune by the great Heitor Villa-Lobos, one of Brazil’s most celebrated classical composers, and a favorite among guitarists. His “A Lenda do Caboclo” (the Legend of the Native”) was originally written for piano, and features a gently gliding melody interrupted by a bow to the French Impressionist school. Music of the iconic guitar virtuoso Baden Powell closes the set. His “Samba Novo”, a reaction against the wave of popularity of the gentler bossa novo style, is hard driving and aggressive, with an extroverted melodic sense. Return to Parlance Program Notes

March 9, 2025: Ravel’s 150th Birthday Concert, with Erika Baikoff, Soprano; Soohong Park, piano Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) Shéherazade for soprano and piano March 9, 2025: Ravel’s 150th Birthday Concert, with Erika Baikoff, Soprano; Soohong Park, piano While still a student at the Paris Conservatory in 1899, Ravel conceived an opera to be based on the tales of the Thousand and One Nights . Well-aware of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade (1888), Ravel wrote his own Shéhérazade Overture based on the legends, but the work’s lack of success when Ravel conducted it that June gave him pause, and he prohibited it from being published. Then in 1903 he was inspired to set three poems by fellow member of the Apache society Tristan Klingsor (pseudonym of Leon Leclerc), whose cycle entitled Shéhérazade had just been published. Wrote Leclerc: Ravel immediately announced his intent of setting some of my poems into music. His love of difficulty led him to choose, in addition to “L’indifférent and La flûte enchantée , one which, by reason of its length and narrative form, seemed the least likely suited for his purpose: Asie . The fact is that at this time he was extremely preoccupied with the challenge of adapting music to speech, heightening its accents and inflections and magnifying them by adapting them into melody; and to assist him to carry out his project he asked me to read the poems out loud to him. Like much of France and other European countries at the turn of the twentieth century, Ravel was fascinated with evocations of the Far East. The interest was not so much a kind of armchair tourism, but rather represented in the words of musicologist Kurt Oppens—whose knowledge of French poetry was second to none—“the decadence of a hypercivilized culture.” Worth quoting at length, Oppens wrote: Concerning decadence : all such once-fashionable catch names and slogans isolate one single element that, in truth, is common to all art. Every new style is “decadent” in the sense that it pays the price of progress by falling off from a previous achievement. Ravel’s Shéhérazade , however, is decadence with a capital D, a prototypical example of what Decadence as a movement was about. The kind of travel described in a poem such as Asie leads out of the boundaries of the self into archetypal images, a world of subconscious dreams, or eroticism and murder, a mixture that in its concrete political embodiments, led to the unspeakable tragedies of [the twentieth] century. . . . The emotonal-musical climax coincides with these words: “Je voudrais voir des rose et du sang; / Je voudrais voir mourir d’amour ou bien de haine .” (I would like to see roses and blood; / I would like to see those who die for love or else for hate.” . . . The “I” of Leclerc’s poem does not think of dying; he is looking at death and responding to it as if it were a stimulant, an aphrodisiac. . . . Ravel’s music for “Asie” is essentially one big rolling wave, a masterfully articulated and controlled crescendo and decrescendo. (The element of control is of course non-decadent; decadent art is in itself a contradictory or dialectical proposition.) It is fascinating that when Ravel conducted these songs himself, he began with “Le flûte enchantée,” followed by “L’indifférent,” and ended with “Asie,” as in the order of the premiere, which was sung by Jane Hatto of the Paris Opéra on May 17, 1904, with Alfred Cortot conducting the orchestra of the Société Nationale. The published order makes for a more subdued ending, in keeping with the intimate love songs of “La flûte enchantée” and “L’indifférent.” Of the two shorter songs, “La flûte enchantée” offers an intimate melody—often sad, occasionally joyful—evoking the thoughts of the poem’s slave girl, who in her master’s house hears her lover playing the flute. “L’indifferent” also unfolds as a private love song, one shrouded in an air of mystery both as to the poem and Ravel’s setting. Is the protagonist Scherherazade herself seducing a young boy or is the androgenous nature of the addressee something that attracted Ravel? Whatever the case, Ravel skillfully captures the elusive, maybe dreamed or imagined-from-afar seductiveness of the poem. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Asie Asie, Asie, Asie, Vieux pays merveilleux des contes de nourrice Où dort la fantasie comme une impératrice En sa forêt tout emplie de mystère. Asie, Je voudrais m'en aller avec la goélette Qui se berce ce soir dans la port, Mystérieuse et solitaire, Et qui déploie enfin ses voiles violettes Comme un immense oiseau de nuit dans le ciel d’or. Je voudrais m’en aller vers des îles de fleurs En écoutant chanter la mer perverse Sur un vieux rythme ensorceleur, Je voudrais voir Damas et les villes de Perse Avec les minarets légers dans l’air, Je voudrais voir de beaux turbans de soie Sur des visages noirs aux dents claires; Je voudrais voir des yeux sombres d’amour Et des prunelles brillantes de joie En des peaux jaunes comme des oranges; Je voudrais voir des vêtements de velours Et des habits à longues franges, Je voudrais voir des calumets entre les bouches Tout entourées de barbe blanche; Je voudrais voir d’âpres marchands aux regards louches, Et des cadis, et des vizirs Qui du seul mouvement de leur doigt qui se penche Accordent vie ou mort au gré de leur désir. Je voudrais voir la Perse, et l’Inde, et puis la Chine, Les mandarins ventrus sous les ombrelles, Et les princesses aux mains fines, Et les lettrés qui se querellent Sur la poésie et sur la beauté; Je voudrais m’attarder au palais enchanté Et comme voyageur étranger Contempler à loisir des paysages peints Sur des étoffes en des cadres de sapin Avec un personnage au milieu d’un verger; Je voudrais voir des assassins souriant Du bourreau qui coupe un cou d’innocent Avec son grand sabre courbé d’Orient, Je voudrais voir des pauvres et des reines; Je voudrais voir des roses et du sang; Je voudrais voir mourir d’amour ou bien de haine. Et puis m’en revenir plus tard Narrer mon aventure aux curieux de rêves En élevant comme Sinbad ma vieille tasse arabe De temps en temps jusqu’à mes lèvres Pour interrompre le conte avec art . . . La flûte enchantée L’ombre est douce et mon maître dort Coiffé d’un bonnet comique de soie Et son long nez jaune en sa barbe blanche. Mais moi, je suis éveillée encor Et j’écoute au dehors Une chanson de flûte où s’épanche Tour à tour la tristesse ou la joie. Un air tour à tour langoureux ou frivole Que mon amoureux chéri joue. Et quand je m’approche de la croisée Il me semble que chaque note s’envole De la flûte vers ma joue Comme un mystérieux baiser. L’indifférent Tes yeux sont doux comme ceux d’une fille, Jeune étranger, et la courbe fine De ton beau visage de duvet ombragé Est plus séduisante encor de ligne. Ta lèvre chante sur le pas de ma porte Une lange inconnue et charmante Comme une musique fausse. Entre! Et que mon vin te réconforte . . . Mais non, tu passes Et de mon seuil je te vois t’éloigner Me faisant un dernier geste avec grâce Et la hanche légèrement ployée Par ta démarche féminine et lasse . . . —Tristan Klingsor Asia Asia, Asia, Asia, Ancient, marvelous country of fairy tales, where fantasy sleeps like an empress in her forest filled with mystery. Asia, I would like go away with the ship which is rocking this evening in the port, mysterious and lonely, and which finally spreads its violet sails like an immense bird of night in the golden sky. I would like to go towards the islands of flowers, while listening to the wayward sea sing to an old bewitching rhythm. I would like to see Damascus and the Persian cities with airy minarets rising into the sky. I would like to see beautiful silk turbans above black faces with bright teeth; I would like to see eyes dark with love and pupils shining with joy in faces with skins yellow as oranges; I would like to see velvet clothes and robes with long fringes, I would like to see pipes held between lips all surrounded by white beards; I would like to see harsh merchants with shifty looks, and cadis, and viziers, who with a single movement of their bending fingers, grant life or death according to their wish. I would like to see Persia, and India, and then China, The pot-bellied mandarins beneath the umbrellas, and the princesses with fine hands, and the scholars who quarrel over poetry and beauty; I would like to linger at the enchanted palace and as a foreign traveler contemplate at leisure countrysides painted on fabrics in frames of fir with a figure in the midst of an orchard; I would like to see smiling assassins, the executioner who cuts an innocent neck with his great curved sabre from the Orient. I would like to see beggars and queens; I would like to see roses and blood; I would like to see those who die of love or hate. And then come back later narrate my adventure to those curious of dreams while raising like Sinbad my old Arab cup from time to time to my lips to interrupt the tale with artistry . . . The Enchanted Flute The shadow is soft and my master sleeps wearing a comical bonnet of silk and his long yellow nose in his white beard. But I, I am still awake, and I hear outside a flute song in which pours out sadness or joy in turn. An air sometimes languorous, sometimes frivolous that my dear lover plays. And when I draw near the window, it seems to me that each note flies away from the flute to my cheek like a mysterious kiss. The Indifferent One Your eyes are soft like those of a girl, young stranger, and the fine curve of your beautiful face shadowed with down is still more seductive in its curve. Your lip sings on my doorstep an unknown and charming language like a false music. Enter! And let my wine refresh you . . . But no, you pass, and from my doorstep I see you leaving making a last gesture with grace and your hips gently swaying, with your feminine and languid walk . . . Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 14, 2019: Anne Akiko Meyers, violin; Jason Vieaux, guitar RENTARŌ TAKI (1879–1901) Kojo No Tsuki (“The Moon over the Ruined Castle”) arr. Anne Akiko Meyers April 14, 2019: Anne Akiko Meyers, violin; Jason Vieaux, guitar Rentarō Taki studied at the Tokyo Music School where in 1901 he set a melody to Bansui Doi’s poem Kōjō no tsuki and entered it into a competition for the Education Department of Japan. Intended as a simple tune for students to sing without accompaniment, “Kōjō no tsuki” won the competition and was published in the school’s song book along with two other songs Taki had composed. Recognizing his talent, the Meiji government sent him to study at the Leipzig Conservatory—only the second Japanese musician they had sent abroad. Sadly, Taki contracted tuberculosis within two months, and by September 1902 he had to return home under a doctor’s care. His ship made a one-day stopover in London on the way to Japan, which by happy coincidence enabled Bansui, who was studying English literature in London, to meet the composer who had so beautifully set his poem to music. Back in Japan, Taki died the following June at age twenty-three. Because of the threat of the spread of tuberculosis, all of his papers were burned including what he had composed in Leipzig, and so only a few of his compositions—piano pieces and songs—remain. His legacy, however, lives on in “Kōjō no tsuki,” which became legendary both in Japan and abroad. Anne Akiko Meyers describes her very personal relationship with the song: “My grandmother’s favorite piece of music in the world was a Japanese song called “Kōjō no tsuki.” I first heard it when I was a teenager and I understood straight away why she loved it so much; it’s a hauntingly beautiful, nostalgic piece that has an infinite amount of soulfulness and poetry within it. “I’ve always associated it with memories of my grandmother; when she heard me playing it in the house, or in my hotel room while I was touring, it would always move her to tears—and when I hear it now I find it very hard not to cry as well. “The song’s title translates as ‘Moonlight over the ruined castle,’ and it’s inspired by a view of the ruins of Oka Castle on Kyushu, Japan’s most southerly main island. In the sixteenth century, during Japan’s feudal era, it must have been one of the most impressive castles in all Japan, and the song evokes memories of the parties enjoyed by the samurai and shōguns, all drinking and carousing within the castle walls. “Now the castle sits in despair, with nothing to be seen but the moonlight beaming down on the ruins as their sole constant companion. That moonlight has remained the same throughout the centuries, and the song gives the impression that time has essentially drained the castle of its life. It was written in 1901, long after the end of the feudal era, by a brilliant twenty-one-year-old composer named Rentarō Taki—who died just two years after writing the piece. “As far as I know, I’m the first person to play “Kōjō no tsuki” on the violin. I had it arranged in 1993 by the Japanese composer Shigeaki Saegusa, and then adapted it myself to my own way of playing. I find that it’s incredibly ripe for expression: technically it’s not at all hard for me to play, but the challenge is in finding how you want to express yourself each time. Whenever I play it I give it a different kind of nuance.” © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

May 19, 2019: Wendy Bryn Harmer, soprano; Inn-Hyuck Cho, basset horn; Ken Noda, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Non più di fiori from La Clemenza di Tito, K. 621 May 19, 2019: Wendy Bryn Harmer, soprano; Inn-Hyuck Cho, basset horn; Ken Noda, piano In July 1791 Mozart received a “last-minute” commission to compose an opera to celebrate Leopold II’s coronation as King of Bohemia. He had to work quickly in order to complete La clemenza di Tito (The clemency of Titus) by September 6, when it would open at the National Theatre in Prague. Having begun the work in Vienna in late July, Mozart arrived in Prague on August 28 and completed the opera only the day before it opened. After modest successes, La clemenza di Tito experienced a triumphant closing night, which was reported to Mozart back in Vienna on September 30, the day of the premiere of Die Zauberflöte. Since most of Die Zauberflöte had been written before Mozart left for Prague, La clemenza is often considered his final opera. He died just nine weeks after the premiere of Die Zauberflöte, and critics attached a sort of stigma to La clemenza, possibly because some of the simple recitatives had to be subcontracted owing to time restraints. The fact remains, however, that Mozart admirably fulfilled the demands of eighteenth-century opera seria (serious opera) for dramatic, noble, and virtuosic writing. More than forty composers had previously set Pietro Metastasio’s libretto for La clemenza di Tito, beginning with Caldara in 1734. For Mozart’s purposes the libretto was adapted by Caterino Mazzolà—“reduced to a proper opera” as Mozart put it—by shortening it by one-third and manipulating almost all of Metastasio’s texts so that there would be ensembles and finales in addition to solo arias. The plot, typical of eighteenth-century opera seria, concerns Titus (Tito), Roman emperor, whose plans to marry someone else inflame Vitellia, daughter of the deposed emperor, with jealousy. She involves Sextus (Sesto), who is in love with her, in a plot to kill Tito that goes awry. Sesto is condemned to death, and Vitellia, unable to bear the guilt, confesses her part in the scheme. Tito, however, has granted Sesto clemency and now does the same for Vitellia. Mozart and Mazzolà reduced the number of Metastasio’s arias to eleven, which include Sesto’s great virtuosic aria with elaborate clarinet obbligato, “Parto, parto” (I go, I go), and Vitellia’s equally renowned showpiece with basset horn obbligato, “Non più di fioro” (No more flowers). Mozart’s friend Anton Stadler came from Vienna especially to play these important solos. Just before the final two scenes, Vitellia resolves to confess all, knowing not only that she’ll lose Tito and the throne but could also be put to death. Her alternately agitated and sorrowful accompanied recitative: “Ecco il punto, o Vitelia” (Now is the moment, O Vitellia) leads into her powerfully restrained “Non più di fiori.” Famous for its tessitura that is lower than much of the role, the aria unfolds in rondo form, painting a deceptively serene picture—except for a few dazzling outbursts—of a woman who is nevertheless experiencing intense emotions prior to possible death. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano GEORG FRIEDRICH HÄNDEL (1685-1759) Endless pleasure, endless love from Semele Angels ever bright and fair from Theodora February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano Handel had been producing Italian opera for thirty years in London when in 1741 he came to a financial dead end and turned to oratorio as his main creative outlet. But Semele , his 1743 setting of William Congreve’s English opera libretto, shows that he had not quite given up his operatic aspirations. Though intended for concert performance “after the Manner of an oratorio,” the work was doomed when it opened in February 1744 because the public wanted a Lenten oratorio rather than something so close to Italian opera and full of licentious gods. Despite containing some of Handel’s most lovely and effective music, Semele remained in a mixed-genre wasteland until the modern era when it became one of his most-performed works. Semele is a mortal woman, betrothed to Athamas but in love with the god Jupiter. At her request he snatches her aloft from the wedding ceremony. Juno, Jupiter’s wife and guardian of marriage vows, plays on Semele’s ambition to become immortal and, disguised as Semele’s sister, tells her to refuse Jupiter’s advances until he promises to appear to her in his true godlike form. Juno knows he will have to keep his promise, which will end Semele’s life. At the end of Act I, Semele sings the delightful, justly famous air “Endless pleasure, endless love,” which tells of her joy now that she is in Jupiter’s realm. Congreve’s libretto had assigned this “gavotte” to another character after Semele’s exit from the scene, but Handel no doubt wanted to give his star another opportunity to shine and decided such a discrepancy did not matter in an unstaged oratorio. Handel composed Theodora between June 30 and July 31, 1749, setting a libretto by Thomas Morell, who had adapted a story from Robert Boyle’s The Martyrdom of Theodora and Didymus (1687) together with some material from Pierre Corneille’s Théodore, vierge et martyre (1646). This fourth and best of Morell’s oratorio librettos for Handel inspired some of the composer’s most profound music. First performed on March 16, 1750, Theodora , like Semele , was not well-received—possibly because of its unusual subject matter and tragic ending. Its failure greatly disappointed Handel, who considered it his best oratorio. Two centuries later the work’s merits have been fully recognized and it has received masterful revivals, some even staged. The non-Biblical story involves Christian martyr Theodora, who is condemned to slavery as a temple prostitute by Valens, Roman president of Antioch, for refusing to offer sacrifices to goddesses Venus and Flora. Didymus, a Roman officer converted to Christianity by Theodora, helps her escape at the cost of his own freedom. She offers her life in exchange for his, but Valens condemns them both to death. Theodora sings the heartfelt “Angels, ever bright and fair” in Act I, scene 5, in response to being taken prisoner and told of the fate worse than death that awaits her. She pleads with the angels to take her to heaven as a virgin. Her poignant pleas come to a brief contrasting peak before resuming with the return of the opening, now with improvisatory embellishments of the melody, as was customary in Handel’s day. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 7, 2024: Jordi Savall and Hespèrion XXI LE NUOVE MUSICHE: The Baroque Revolution (1550 - 1660) April 7, 2024: Jordi Savall and Hespèrion XXI This afternoon’s program offers an overview of great composers who lived in different European regions and straddled the Renaissance and the Baroque periods, a time when sixteenth-century compositional forms and techniques coexisted with those of the new century. The musica nova (new music) stemmed from Monteverdi's seconda prattica (second practice), which appeared in the world of instrumental music as well opera. The new music could be completely unknown or reappear like an old friend, who changes over time while maintaining characteristic features. The selections are ordered chronologically starting with three Renaissance pieces, collected in the first edition of Capricci in musica a tres voci (1564) by Vincenzo Ruffo (1508–1587) and here arranged in a small suite. Ruffo, from Verona with a musical career in Northern Italy, was appointed maestro di cappella of the Cathedral of Milan. The following year he dedicated his collection of Capricci , the earliest known instrumental pieces to bear that designation, to Marc’Antonio Martinengo, Marquis of Villachiara. He also sought to introduce himself to the local nobles, who were voracious consumers of instrumental music. La Gamba and La Disperata are joined by La Piva , a fast dance of popular origin that stemmed even from the fifteenth-century and which, although apparently absent from the choreographic world of the sixteenth century, appeared sporadically in instrumental music collections. The cameo appearances here of the Rappresentazione di Anima e di Corpo (Representation of soul and body) and the Ballo del Granduca (Ball of the grand duke) from the intermedii of La Pellegrina by Emilio de’Cavalieri (c.1550–1602) recall the invention par excellence of the new century, namely opera. The second of these had an incredible circulation and, by belonging to the cycle of intermedii , represents that exceptional moment of artistic ferment and experimentation that would lead to the birth of opera. The first belongs to a composition that vies with Peri’s Euriydice for primogeniture in the new musical genre. A very prevalent dance between the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is the gagliarda , built on a basic scheme of five dance steps on six beats of music (in modern terms, 6/4 with the fourth note elongated), which could also be varied in a very virtuoso way choreographically. It was usually preceded by a pavane , a dance of slower, processional character. The gagliarda was very popular both as dance music and as a purely instrumental form. The Earle of Peembrookes Galiard , by the London composer and soldier Tobias Hume (1569–1645) appeared in the collection Poeticall Musicke (1607) together with Start ; this collection constitutes the first repertoire composed for lyra viola (a kind of viola da gamba), the real protagonist of Hume’s songs. Other gagliards are offered during the program with more specific connotations: the Gagliard Battaglia (Battle gagliard) by German composer Samuel Scheidt (1587–1654) and the closing Gallarda Napolitana by the blind Neapolitan composer Antonio Valente (c. 1520–c. 1580). The famous anonymous Greensleeves to a Ground reminds us of another element very present in the musical practice of the time throughout Europe—namely the composition on a basso ostinato (a ground, in English), on which the other parts propose a series of variations. We will return to other variation forms later in the program. Another important presence is that of the canzona , a term that developed largely in Italy around the seventeenth century. It is described by Michael Praetorius (1571–1621) as “a series of short fugues for ensembles of four, five, six, eight, or more parts, with a repetition of the first at the end.” Girolamo Frescobaldi (1583–1643) dedicated himself on several occasions to this type of instrumental composition. The Canzon we hear this afternoon appears in his collection Il primo libro delle canzoni a 1–4, bc, accomodate per sonare [con] ogni sorte de stromenti (The first book of canzonas for one to four voices, basso continuo, accommodated to play [with] all sorts of instruments), published in Rome in 1628. Frescobaldi’s edition was prepared by his pupil Bartolomeo Grassi who, as he explained in the afterward of the work, gave each of the thirty-seven canzonas a dedicatory name inspired by the names of gentlemen from Lucca. We hear the Canzon terza, a due canti, which means that it is essentially a three-voice fugue with two instrumental upper voices and an instrumental bass voice (played by a sustaining bass instrument doubled by keyboard that also supplies harmonies, or basso continuo). We then proceed to the ciaccona , whose presence is already attested to in Spain at the end of the sixteenth century. Traditionally accompanied by guitars, tambourines, and castanets both in Spain and in Italy (and especially in Naples), the ciaccona was often introduced in theatrical performances of the commedia dell’arte. The Italian variant is more exuberant than the Spanish, with a faster tempo and multiple nuances. The Ciaconna by Andrea Falconiero (also known as Falconieri) (1585–1656) is from his collection Il primo libro di canzone, sinfonie, fantasie, capricci, brandi, correnti, gagliarde, alemane, volte, 1–3 vn, va, or other insts, bc (First book of canzone, sinfonias, fantasies, etc., for 1–3 violins, violas, or other instruments, and basso continuo) (Naples, 1650). In this piece the three instrumental parts launch into a passionate back-and-forth. One of the earliest known references to the lively guaracha , likely of Spanish origin, stems from the Mexican singer, viol player, and composer Juan García de Zéspedes (1619–1678). He includes one—as well as uses the term—in his mid-seventeenth-century song/carol Convidando está la noche (Inviting is the night). Its distinctive rhythms foreshadow the song form that later became popular in Caribbean colonies. We turn now to a later incarnation of the variation form, the folia . Though the folia originated in Portugal as a dance or dance song—often for guitar—it wasn’t until the last quarter of the seventeenth century that the harmonic pattern and melody became somewhat standardized. In Italian sources the earliest use of folia was by Giovanni Girolamo Kapsberger (also known as Kapsperger) (c.1580–1651), who wrote four books of works for the theorbo or chitarrone (bass fretted lute) (1604, 1616, 1626, and 1640). The form is also represented on this program by Diferencias sobre la Folía (1660) by an anonymous Spanish composer. Falconiero appears again on the program in another variation form closely related to the ciaccona or chaconne —the passacalle (also called passacaille , passacaglia , and other variants) from the above-mentioned collection. Falconiero’s Passacalle consists of thirty-two variations on the stepwise descending four-note bass line. We can compare this with the Passacaglio by virtuoso violinist and composer Biagio Marini (1594–1663) from his collection Per ogni sorte di strumento musicale (For all sorts of musical instruments) (Venice, 1655). In this set of variations some delightful harmonic crunches appear over the ground bass. Based mostly in Cremona, Tarquinio Merula (1595-1665) was one of the most progressive composers of the Venetian School in the generation after Monteverdi. His Chiaccona from his Canzoni overo sonate concertate per chiesa e camera (Concerted songs for church and chamber) (Venice, 1637) begins in lilting style, becoming remarkably virtuosic as the vriations progress. To close the program we are treated to Valente ’s Gallarda Napolitana (mentioned above) from his Intavolatura de cimbalo (Naples, 1576), which was one of the earliest publications of the Naples school of keyboard composition that flourished in the late sixteenth- and early-seventeenth centuries. For this piece and other variations types such as folías and ciacconas, writes Jordi Savall, “both composition and successful performance require a succession of freely virtuoso elaborations over a preexisting bass line, pattern, or melody,” which in the performance by Hespèrion XXI leads to delightful creative moments. Finally a word about the viola da gamba, which in different sizes and different combinations is the protagonist of the evening. Born around the fifteenth century, the viola da gamba has conquered a particular space for its ability to propose itself in consort, in homogeneous ensembles, or mixed with different instruments, and then for the possibilities as a soloist, pushed to virtuosity. Today’s program, in addition to letting us experience the musical richness of early seventeenth-century instrumental pieces, also enables us to hear all the different shades of the viola da gamba’s voice. Text curated by Francesca Pinna in collaboration with the Dipartimento di Musicologia e Beni Culturali, Università degli Studi di Pavia, sede di Cremona; adapted by Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

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