April 3, 2016: Ying Fang, soprano; Sir James Galway and Lady Jeanne Galway, flutes; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Sheep Safely Graze, from Cantata 208 for soprano, two flutes, and continuo April 3, 2016: Ying Fang, soprano; Sir James Galway and Lady Jeanne Galway, flutes; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord Bach wrote secular cantatas for aristocratic patrons to celebrate special occasions such as birthdays, name days, and accession days, or for academic ceremonies. He wrote one of his most famous, Was mir behagt, ist nur die muntre Jagd! (What pleases me is above all the lively hunt), BWV 208, on a text by Weimar court poet Salomo Franck for the birthday of Duke Christian Weissenfels in 1713. Known as the Hunt Cantata, it contains “Schafe können sicher weiden,” the well-known aria for Pales, second soprano to Diana, goddess of the hunt. For centuries listeners have been captivated by its texture of rocking parallel thirds for two flutes—the quintessential pastoral instrument—accompanying the tender main melody, which praises Duke Christian for ruling his people as a good shepherd. © Jane Vial Jaffe Text and Translation Schafe können sicher weiden, Wo ein guter Hirte wacht. Wo Regenten wohl regieren, Kann man Ruh und Friede spüren Und was Länder glücklich macht. —Salomo Franck Sheep may safely graze where a good shepherd watches. Where rulers are governing well, one may feel rest and peace and what makes countries happy. Return to Parlance Program Notes

2025-2026 ARTIST ROSTER RICHARD GOODE, PIANO BENJAMIN BEILMAN, VIOLIN STERLING ELLIOTT, CELLO JERUSALEM QUARTET RADU RATOI, ACCORDIONIST JONATHAN SWENSEN, CELLO CHEE-YUN, VIOLIN BENJAMIN APPL, BARITONE JONATHAN BISS, PIANO BRAD GEMEINHARDT, HORN HENRY KRAMER, PIANO ANTON RIST, CLARINET THE TALLIS SCHOLARS JAMES BAILLIEU, PIANO LAWRENCE BROWNLEE, TENOR PETER FRANCIS JAMES, NARRATOR KEVIN J. MILLER, PIANO WILLIAM SHORT, BASSOON ORION WEISS, PIANO

September 29, 2024: Edward Arron, Carter Brey, Rafael Figueroa, and Zvi Plesser, cellos WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Overture to The Marriage of Figaro, arr. for four cellos by Douglas Moore September 29, 2024: Edward Arron, Carter Brey, Rafael Figueroa, and Zvi Plesser, cellos After a long search for a comic opera subject, Mozart was thrilled with Beaumarchais’s play Le mariage de Figaro, ou La folle journée (The Marriage of Figaro, or The crazy day), especially knowing that Lorenzo da Ponte would do justice to the libretto. Mozart counted on the audience being intrigued since the play had been banned throughout the Hapsburg Empire for its “subversive” elements. After the censors had been convinced the that portions had been altered sufficiently, The Marriage of Figaro opened on May 1, 1786. Despite rival cabals, the opera won a certain acclaim, but its full ascendancy as “the perfect comic opera” began with the Prague production the following year. All of the action takes place on the marriage day of Figaro and Susanna, servants to Count and Countess Almaviva. The main plot concerns the Count’s flirtations with Susanna in connection with the droit du seigneur (his supposed right as a noble to have his way with her on her first night of marriage) and her clever foiling of his advances. The eventual humiliation of this member of the aristocracy by his “inferiors”—even in its toned-down guise—greatly appealed to the rising middle class audience. Mozart’s extremely well-known Overture admirably sets up the intrigues and feverish activity of the wedding day beginning with the merest rustle. A theme for winds and horns—now paired cellos—follows immediately, and suddenly a glorious cap to both opening phrases bursts onto the scene. The second theme group shows the same quick mood changes, building to a climax with no real development section before the reprise begins with the hushed busy theme of the opening. Mozart had at one time composed a middle lyrical contrasting section before the recapitulation, but ripped the sheet out of the finished score, preferring to keep the moods of humor and gaiety uninterrupted. This afternoon’s four-cello version of Mozart’s popular Overture was arranged by cellist Douglas B. Moore, professor emeritus at Williams College where he taught and often chaired the music department from 1970 to 2007. He also appeared with orchestra and at festivals across the United States and has published more than forty original arrangements for from two to eight cellos. Yo-Yo Ma, Maximilian Hornung, the Boston Cello Quartet, and the Vienna Philharmonic Cellos on a televised New Year’s concert are just a few who have featured his cello arrangements. Taking into account the expansive range and agility of his instrument, Moore considers his multiple-voice cello arrangements especially well-suited to pieces originally for orchestra or band. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

November 4, 2018: Pascual Martinez-Fortese, clarinet; Cynthia Phelps, viola; Alessio Bax, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Clarinet Trio in E flat, K. 498 (“Kegelstatt”) November 4, 2018: Pascual Martinez-Fortese, clarinet; Cynthia Phelps, viola; Alessio Bax, piano Let’s dispense with the nickname right away. Mozart composed this richly imaginative Trio for clarinet, viola, and piano for Franziska von Jacquin, one of his best piano pupils, as we learn from the 1844 memoirs of historical novelist Caroline Pichler, who herself took lessons from Mozart as a young girl. He no doubt wrote the clarinet part for his good friend Anton Stadler— for whom he also wrote his Clarinet Quintet, Clarinet Concerto, and prominent parts in La clemenza di Tito—and the viola part with himself in mind. Mozart dated the work August 5, 1786, in his own catalog, calling it simply: “A Trio for Piano, Clarinet, and Viola.” So what does this have to do with a Kegelstatt (skittles/bowling alley)? Mozart did love to play skittles, a game in which one threw or rolled (accounts vary) a wooden ball or disk to knock down nine pins. He also loved bocce, which he learned in Rome. However, the only inscription about skittles on one of his manuscripts appears not on the Trio but on the Duets for Two Horns, K. 496a (K. 487), completed only nine days earlier. It reads—not in his own hand—“Wien den 27.t Julius 1786 untern Kegelscheiben” (Vienna, 27th July 1786 while playing skittles). Somehow the nickname got transferred to the Trio in the nineteenth century, likely through a misappropriation from the Horn Duets. Köchel’s pioneering 1862 catalog transmitted the “Kegelstatt” nickname with the Trio, but at the time Köchel himself had no access to the manuscript, so he was unaware that it bore no inscription. Further, he had not seen the Horn Duets and had assigned K. 487 as Violin Duets—no inscription—and gave the date February 27, 1786. He often had to rely on information from collectors Aloys Fuchs, Josef Hauer, and Leopold von Sonnleithner, who may or may not have been responsible for the misinformation. Various writers perpetuated the “Kegelstatt” nickname for the Trio, as did later editions of the Köchel catalog (revised by others), even as they included the Horn Duets with the “untern Kegelscheiben” inscription. The Trio will probably always carry the spurious nickname, but does it help or hinder? Nicknames tend to save works from obscurity or promote more performances, and in this case it has led numerous writers to marvel that Mozart could have written such a poetic work amid the clatter of a skittles alley. Even without a nickname, however, clarinetists and violists would always have been happy to keep this unique work in the repertoire. Presumably the Trio was first performed shortly after its completion by Franziska von Jacquin, Anton Stadler, and Mozart himself at one of the “convivial” Wednesday soirees at the Jacquin home described by Caroline Pichler. When the Trio appeared in print in September 1788, Mozart’s publisher wanted to assure its commercial success by advertising it as “a trio for harpsichord or pianoforte with violin and viola accompaniment,” adding that the violin part could be performed by clarinet. With violinists more plentiful than clarinetists at the time, it made business sense, but Mozart clearly loved the mid and low range of the clarinet—Stadler’s specialties—paired with the warm sound of the viola. The piano’s top billing also reflected the custom of the day, but Mozart treats all three instruments with remarkable equality. The lovely first movement flows at a gentle Andante pace, perhaps dispensing with the need for a slow second movement. It seems perfectly suited for Mozart’s reveling in the mid-range sonorities of two of his favorite instruments. Throughout his entire sonata form he engages the ear with the imaginative settings and permutations of the five-note ornamental turn that occurs at the outset. Also striking is Mozart’s interest in chromaticism in the form of rising half-step flourishes at the ends of many of his phrases. Chromaticism takes on a more astonishing aspect in the trio section of the minuet. This is an intimate, serious Menuetto of expansive proportions, far removed from the courtly dance tradition. The outer minuet sections feature emphatic contrasts between loud and soft, the former emphasized by the piano’s distinctive bass figure doubled in octaves and the latter concentrated in the treble register. Chromaticism takes on a special yearning quality toward the end of the second section. It is the Trio, however, that brings chromaticism spectacularly to the fore: Mozart focuses pointedly on a four-note motive that circles in on itself in half steps, alternating this idea with spates of running triplets—a truly novel idea. The finale with its sunny, lyrical refrain unfolds as a seven-section rondo—A-B-A-C-A-D-A, in which Mozart ingeniously varies each return of the main theme. The mood darkens suddenly for the middle episode with the viola’s stormy outburst in the minor mode. This movement features some especially brilliant passages for all the instruments—the piano in particular, which would have shown off Franziska von Jacquin’s fleet fingers to great advantage. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

September 25, 2016: Jason Vieaux, guitar JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Suite in E minor, BWV 996 for solo guitar September 25, 2016: Jason Vieaux, guitar The ingenious and practical Bach, one of history’s most masterful recyclers, constantly took advantage of upcoming performances, employers’ needs, or teaching opportunities to recycle or adapt existing works. Thus differing versions survive of many works, and others carried his indication that they could be played on alternate instruments. In the case of his compositions for lute, he may have written them for lute virtuosos of his acquaintance—he was in contact with virtuosos S. L. Weiss and K Kropfans of Dresden and historian and player E. G Baron in Leipzig—or for his students, such as lute players/composers J. L. Krebs and R Straube. He was well aware, however, that lute pieces could easily be adapted to the keyboard—he indicated that his E-flat major Sonata, BWV 998, could be played on lute or harpsichord—and of the seven works that bear lute designations, more survive in keyboard than lute versions. The Suite in E minor, BWV 996, is most likely the earliest of the pieces designated for lute—or possibly “Lautenwerk,” a mechanism to emulate the lute on a harpsichord—dating probably from sometime after 1712 when Bach was working in Weimar. It is entirely in keeping with Bach’s philosophy of transferability that this Suite and his other lute pieces should be played on guitar, as they typically are today. Bach based his suites on a standard series of Baroque dance movements, which by his time were no longer meant for actual dancing—Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, and Gigue. All the movements employ binary form (two sections, each repeated). A variety of additional dance movements could be inserted between the Sarabande and Gigue, the typical place for any slightly more “modern” dance forms. He typically prefaced his suites with a prelude, or in this case, as in his “English” Suite No. 6 for keyboard, with a paired prelude and fugue. Here he labels the prelude “Passagio,” a designation for an improvisatory-sounding introduction, and the short but intense fugue, “Presto.” Bach uses the French designations for the remainder of the Suite’s movements, and the serious but graceful Allemande and the elegant Courante show his best French style, much like his French Suites for keyboard. In the lovely, introspective Sarabande, Bach shows his penchant for mixing French and Italian styles, his Italianate sensibility appearing especially in his melodic ornaments. His “added” movement, a vivacious Bourrée that is perhaps the best-known movement of the suite, is striking for its constant long-short-short rhythmic pattern and propulsive bass line. The exuberant Gigue leaves its dance models far behind with a remarkable contrapuntal display embedded in its lively perpetual motion. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

January 4, 2015 – Emerson String Quartet LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) String Quartet in E-flat major, Op. 127 January 4, 2015 – Emerson String Quartet When Prince Nicholas Galitzin ordered “one, two, or three new quartets” from Beethoven in November 1822, he could hardly have realized that he was instigating a series of works by which all later generations would judge profundity. Beethoven had not forgotten the quartet medium in the twelve years since the F minor Quartet, op. 95, but the commission gave him the impetus to turn sketches into finished works. He completed the present E-flat major Quartet in early 1825, the A minor, op. 132, that July, and the B-flat major, op. 130, in early 1826. The prince loved the Quartets, but was only able to make one payment before going bankrupt and joining the army. Beethoven could not stop with three, however, and without commission but out of inner need for expression he added the C-sharp minor Quartet, op. 131, and the F major Quartet, op. 135, increasing the total by 1826 to the five works we know as the “late quartets.” It should be noted that, too late for Beethoven himself but in the proper spirit, a son of Galitzin paid with interest what was owed on his father’s three quartets into the Beethoven estate. While pestering Beethoven in 1823 and 1824 about when he would receive his quartets, Galitzin was always quick to say he understood that genius couldn’t be rushed. Beethoven’s problem was not a lack of ideas, but his hectic life as a world-famous composer. He could not concentrate on quartet writing until after completing the Missa solemnis, the Diabelli Variations, and the Ninth Symphony. He finally began the E-flat major Quartet in May of 1824 and completed it the following February. Beethoven wrote in a jovial manner to the members of the Schuppanzigh Quartet before the premiere exhorting each to “distinguish himself and to vie with his neighbor in excellence.” Unfortunately the players had only two weeks to rehearse, and the new style of this Quartet with its especially advanced independence among the parts led to a poor performance on March 6, 1825. Beethoven then offered to coach Joseph Böhm leading the same three players that had played with Schuppanzigh, but in his completely deaf state the composer could guide only by watching their fingers and bows move. Their two March 26 performances went only marginally better; Beethoven was pleased, but the critics and much of the audience objected to the work as “incomprehensible,” among other complaints reminiscent of the reception that typically greeted his most innovative works. Opus 127’s majestic opening chords remind us of the grandeur that Beethoven associated with the key of E-flat major—which he had also used for his Eroica Symphony and Emperor Piano Concerto. Almost immediately, however, he shifts to a sweetly lyrical melody and then to a third more energetic idea before his first group of themes is complete. The initial majestic passage is both less and more than a traditional introduction—less in its length and more in its structural role, returning in keys that define the Romantic rather than Classic bent of this work. What is especially remarkable is that the music of this passage opens the development section not as an inciter of instability but in an important new key. Furthermore, its forceful final return occurs toward the end of the development section and not at the beginning of the recapitulation, which in effect disguises the onset of the recap—a new aim of the Romantics. The second movement unfolds as a set of richly expressive variations with a kind of ecstatic continuity that would have been unthinkable in the composer’s earlier periods. Before the theme has even concluded Beethoven begins varying it. This broadly proportioned movement harbors enough space for a marchlike variation, an animated dialogue between the two violins, and a cello and violin conversation, while still leaving the overall impression of a profound, solemn proceeding. The main theme of the Scherzo injects rhythmic incisiveness and a bit of capriciousness into the work. Introduced by four curious pizzicato chords, this theme plays out primarily in a fugal texture, enlivened by frequent trills and seamless interpolations of chordal or unison passages. The trio is almost demonic in its drive, but occasional moments of harmonic relaxation keep it from utter seriousness. Toward the end of the movement Beethoven reintroduces the trio as if to invoke the extended scherzo-trio-scherzo-trio-scherzo form of several of his earlier works, but he breaks off abruptly, pauses, introduces a snippet of scherzo, then just as quickly calls a halt. The Finale begins in dramatic unison before breaking out into a more lighthearted folklike theme. Several striking features belie the outward innocence of the movement: one is possibly the most remarkable “false reprise” in the repertory on account of its length, its key (subdominant), and the subtle alterations of the scoring. It sets up an ethereal “proper” recapitulation, which in turn prepares an exquisite, magical coda. Here, beginning with an extended trill, Beethoven spins an intricate web of figural patterns and harmonic shifts that bespeaks his visionary stance in this new phase of quartet writing. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

LIAM BOISSERT, OBOE Oboist Liam Boisset has performed with many of the most reputable orchestras around the United States. He regularly performs with the Metropolitan Opera and has recently served as guest Principal Oboe with the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra and the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. During the 2019-2020 season, he also joined the Los Angeles Philharmonic on two international tours as Principal Oboe. He can be heard playing both oboe and English horn in The Witcher on Netflix. In addition to his fruitful performance career, Mr. Boisset is a passionate educator, and has taught masterclasses and lessons at The Juilliard School, Mannes School of Music at The New School, San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Aspen Music Festival and School, and Oberlin Conservatory. During the heart of the pandemic, he co-founded the online teaching platform, Aperto Oboe Academy, to connect with and mentor promising young oboists from around the globe. He currently serves on the faculty of Princeton University’s Department of Music.

STEVEN BANKS, SAXOPHONE Winner of the prestigious 2022 Avery Fisher Career Grant, Steven Banks is an ambassador for the classical saxophone, establishing himself as both a compelling and charismatic soloist, dedicated to showcasing the vast capabilities of the instrument, as well as an advocate for expanding its repertoire. Steven is also the first saxophonist to capture First Prize at the Young Concert Artists Susan Wadsworth International Auditions (2019). He was also recently chosen to join WQXR’s 2022 Artist Propulsion Lab, a program designed to advance the careers of artists and support the future of classical music. Steven has recently appeared as soloist with the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal, Aspen Festival Orchestra, Oregon Mozart Players, Colorado Music Festival, Colorado Symphony, Utah Symphony, the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra and on subscription with the Cleveland Orchestra, performing with such conductors as John Adams, Peter Oundjian, Earl Lee, Xian Zhang, Nicholas McGegan, and Rafael Payere. Upcoming orchestral engagements include the Kansas City Symphony, Cincinnati Symphony, Detroit Symphony, New World Symphony, National Symphony Orchestra and the Minnesota Orchestra. Prior to his invitation as soloist with The Cleveland Orchestra, Steven appeared with the ensemble under conductors including Franz Welser-Most, Jahja Ling, Matthias Pintscher, Alain Altinoglu, and Roderick Cox. He can be heard on a Naxos recording as baritone saxophonist of the award-winning Kenari Quartet. Steven made his debut at the Spoleto Music Festival in Charleston, SC with the St. Lawrence String Quartet and will reunite with the Quartet this season on the Stanford Live series at Bing Concert Hall. Upcoming and recent recitals include Festival Napa Valley, Usedomer MusikFestival, Spoleto Festival USA, and the San Francisco Symphony’s Spotlight Series at Davies Hall. His critically acclaimed recital debut was streamed from Merkin Concert Hall, and co-sponsored by Washington Performing Arts featuring world premieres by Carlos Simon, Saad Haddad, and one of his own compositions. An emerging composer, the music of Steven Banks showcases “a unique and ambitious blend of feelings and sounds” and portrays “a deep intimacy” and “a sense of vulnerability” (Cleveland Classical). Steven’s original composition for alto saxophone and string quartet titled Cries, Sighs and Dreams premiered at Carnegie hall alongside the Borromeo String Quartet, and was performed again this past summer at the Aspen Music Festival and School. He has also recently completed commissions for the Project 14 initiative at Yale University and the Northwestern University Saxophone Ensemble. Steven is an advocate for diversity and inclusion in music education, performance, and newly commissioned works in the classical realm. He presented at the TEDxNorthwesternU 2017 conference presenting his dynamic approach to overcoming institutionalized prejudices against women and people of color, and he has written and given lectures on the history of black classical composers. He also collaborated with flutist Anthony Trionfo and violinist Randall Goosby to create the Learning to Listen roundtable, a discussion on the nuances of the Black experience in classical music and beyond. In partnership with the Sphinx Organization, they also created the Illuminate! series, which opened three essential conversations on the subject of music education, artist activism, and the LGBTQIA+ community in classical music. Having previously served as Assistant Professor of Saxophone at Ithaca College, in the coming season Steven will hold the Jackie McLean Fellowship at the University of Hartford and also serve as a Visiting Faculty member at the Cleveland Institute of Music, where he’ll offer individual saxophone lessons, as well as master classes, and other residency activities. Steven has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Saxophone Performance with a minor in Jazz Studies from the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music, and Master of Music degree from the Northwestern University Bienen School of Music. His primary saxophone teachers have been Taimur Sullivan, Otis Murphy, Jr., and Galvin Crisp. Steven is an endorsing artist for Conn-Selmer instruments, D’Addario Woodwinds, lefreQue Sound Solutions, and Key Leaves.

DOUG BALLIETT, DOUBLE BASS Doug Balliett Double bass Bassist, composer, and poet Doug Balliett has been praised by The New York Times for music that is "vivid, emotive, with contemporary twists." A member of Ruckus, ACRONYM, Oracle Hysterical, and the American Modern Opera Company (AMOC), he enjoys an unusually diverse career spanning historical performance, new music, composition, and education. He teaches double bass, violone, Historical Performance, and a popular course on The Beatles at The Juilliard School.

September 25, 2016: Jason Vieaux, guitar; Escher String Quartet ANTONIO VIVALDI (1678-1741) Guitar Concerto in D major, RV 93 September 25, 2016: Jason Vieaux, guitar; Escher String Quartet Vivaldi’s greatness lay in his extraordinary mastery of eighteenth-century instrumental forms and orchestration. Though he composed numerous operas, he is best known for his close to 500 concertos, of which more than 230 were written for solo violin, some 120 for a variety of other solo instruments including winds, many for more than one soloist, and approximately 60 for string orchestra without solo instrument known as ripieno concertos. Vivaldi’s own instrument was the violin, which he had studied with his father, a violinist at the famous St. Mark’s church in Venice. Nevertheless, his legendary interest in all instrumental families included his writing works for plucked string instruments. Vivaldi trained for the priesthood, taking his Holy Orders in 1703, the same year he became maestro di violino at the Pio Ospedale Pietà, an orphanage and renowned conservatory for girls in Venice. Though his later activities as a composer and impresario occasioned much travel, Vivaldi retained his association with the Pietà throughout his life and many of his instrumental works were designed for his students there. Four of Vivaldi’s works involve lute—the Concerto in D major for two violins, lute, and basso continuo; the Concerto in D minor for viola d’amore, lute, and basso continuo; and two Trio Sonatas (C major and G minor) for lute, violin, and continuo. The first, third, and fourth of these were dedicated to Bohemian Count Johann Joseph von Wrtby (1669–1734), prompting speculation as to what kind of instrument Vivaldi had in mind, since there was a great difference in Austro-German and Italian lutes. It is natural that the lute works are now most often played on the guitar, not only because the guitar sounds similar to the lute and has overshadowed it in popularity, but also because Vivaldi himself frequently suggested such exchanges. All three movements of the D major Concerto follow the “rounded” type of binary form, in which the opening music returns halfway through the second section, which had begun by introducing various keys and slight manipulations of the musical materials. The first movement is notable for its energetic three-note melodic elaborations and the propulsive repeated notes in the bass line. The lovely slow movement shows a completely different possibility for employing a singing line in dotted rhythms. Vivialdi creates a particularly poignant effect with a “halo” of upper string suspensions (harmonic tensions and relaxations), illuminated by the simple change to straight sixteenth notes from dotted sixteenths. The animated closing movement races along in the rhythm of a gigue, with only brief pauses for breath in the prevailing stream of eighth notes. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

October 19, 2008 – Carter Brey, cello; Warren Jones, piano Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) Sonata in A Minor, Op. 36, for cello and piano October 19, 2008 – Carter Brey, cello; Warren Jones, piano Arguably the most popular composer ever to emerge from the Scandinavian peninsula, Edvard Grieg was born in Bergen, Norway, in 1843. He received his formal musical education at the Leipzig Conservatory, but he did not find his unique musical voice until returning to Scandinavia after his graduation. There, Grieg was strongly influenced by Rikard Nordraak, the composer of the Norwegian national anthem. Nordraak’s obsession with the sagas, fjords and music of their homeland inspired Grieg to believe that a form of national music was also possible. He studied and drew inspiration from Norwegian folk music and is today considered a leading musical voice of Norwegian nationalism. Nevertheless, Grieg wrote that “music which matters, however national it may be, is lifted high above the purely national level.” Indeed, his music was admired by many of the most respected composers of his day, including Franz Liszt and Peter Tchaikovsky, both of whom offered their encouragement and approval. History has branded Grieg as a composer of delightful miniatures, owing largely to the popularity of such well-known works as his Holberg Suite and incidental music to Henrik Ibsen’s play Peer Gynt. This impression, however, is belied by the massive scale of his cello sonata, one of the most passionate and expansively Romantic sonatas ever composed for the instrument. Grieg dedicated the piece to his brother John, an amateur cellist with whom he had not been on a good terms for some time. Unfortunately, there was no reconciliation, and it was another cellist, Ludwig Gritzmacher, who premiered the work with Grieg at the piano on October 22, 1883. Perhaps reflecting the pain of the brotherly separation, the first movement begins with a brooding, agitated theme, which quickly dissolves into a tender second theme more characteristic of Grieg – warmly lyrical, very Norwegian. The movement has a wide emotional range, heightened by the unusual inclusion of a mini cadenza for the cellist. The lyrical Andante draws its opening theme from an Homage March composed by Grieg as incidental music to a play about King Sigurd Jorsalfar of Norway. (The march was originally scored for four cellos.) There is a stormy middle section before the processional theme returns at the end of the movement. The final movement begins with a brief recitative-cadenza for solo cello, which ushers in a vigorously rustic folk dance. As in the first movement, the finale traces a huge expressive trajectory. Although the sonata has no known extra-musical program, it creates a strongly narrative impression and represents Grieg at his most intense and passionate. By Michael Parloff Return to Parlance Program Notes

May 6, 2018: Clara Neubauer, violin; Kerry McDermott, violin; Paul Neubauer, violan ANTONÍN DVOŘÁK (1841-1904) Terzetto in C, Op. 74 for 2 violins and viola May 6, 2018: Clara Neubauer, violin; Kerry McDermott, violin; Paul Neubauer, violan During some 1886 New Year’s Eve festivities, Dvořák met a young chemistry student and amateur violinist Josef Kruis, who was a fellow tenant in his mother-in-law’s house. Dvořák had heard Kruis practicing his sight-reading with his violin teacher Jan Pelikán, member of the National Theater Orchestra and Ondřiček Quartet, and wanted to compose something he could play with them on his viola. With lightning speed—precisely Sunday, January 7, to Sunday, January 14—Dvořák composed his Terzetto. When the trio got together to read the new piece, Dvořák found that the first violin part was too difficult for Kruis, so immediately he wrote his Drobnosti (Miniatures) for the same combination. By January 25 he turned this second trio into a version for violin and piano, which he published as Romantic Pieces, op. 75; the original trio version of the Drobnosti went unpublished until 1945, when it was designated Opus 75a. The delightful Terzetto he left in its nonstandard configuration of instruments, and premiered it on March 30, 1887, with two other violinists: Jan Buchal, a doctor, and Jaroslav Stastny, a lawyer. The work was published later that year as Opus 74. The Terzetto’s first movement contrasts a theme in sweet, fluid motion with a much more active, running passage that culminates in unison. Throughout the viola sometimes provides a bass line and other times accompanimental figuration. Toward the end Dvořák introduces some new chromatic inflections and closes with a note of drama as he makes a transition to the second movement. The Larghetto juxtaposes a poignant, lyrical section with one of marked dotted (long-short) rhythms. Dvořák indulges in some gentle canonic imitation before returning to his singing opening section. The Scherzo takes the form of a furiant, a fast Czech dance full of rhythmic play and shifting accents, together with quick changes between major and minor. The contrasting trio swings along as a stylized waltz with some delicate touches before the furiant resumes. For his finale Dvořák employed a theme with ten variations, each of individual character. The contrasts of melancholy and high spirits are typical of much of Dvořák’s native Czech music. Much to his credit, we often forget that we are listening to only three instruments, particularly as he builds to the close. Return to Parlance Program Notes