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May 8, 2022: Arnaud Sussmann, violin; Anna Polonsky, piano; Paul Neubauer, viola; Fred Sherry, cello; Michael Parloff, lecturer WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Violin Sonata in G major, K. 373a (K. 379) May 8, 2022: Arnaud Sussmann, violin; Anna Polonsky, piano; Paul Neubauer, viola; Fred Sherry, cello; Michael Parloff, lecturer Mozart wrote from Vienna to his father Leopold in Salzburg on April 8, 1781: Today (for I am writing at eleven o’clock at night) we had a concert, where three of my compositions were performed—new ones, of course; a rondo for a concerto for Brunetti; a sonata with violin accompaniment for myself, which I composed last night between eleven and twelve (but in order to be able to finish it, I wrote out only the accompaniment for Brunetti and retained my own part in my head); and then a rondo for Ceccarelli, which he had to repeat. The three pieces were his Rondo for violin and orchestra (K. 373), the present G major Sonata, and the aria in rondo form “Or che il ciel” (K. 374). The occasion for this chamber concert was a command performance for the archbishop of Salzburg, who was visiting Vienna and had summoned a group of Salzburg musicians to perform for him and his father, Prince Rudolf Joseph Colloredo. Mozart had brought little music with him, and hence had to compose with haste. Clearly for him it went without saying how quickly the participants—among them violinist Antonio Brunetti and male soprano Francesco Ceccarelli—had to learn their parts, but it’s still astounding! The letter is informative in so many ways. First, we note how quickly Mozart was able to compose music of enduring substance, and, second, how for him the mechanical process of writing down the composition was something that could be taken care of later, for the creative part had already been accomplished in his mind. Further, we are reminded how Mozart viewed the present Sonata—and his others in this genre—as keyboard sonatas, with violin accompaniment. Mozart’s manuscript of the G major Violin Sonata gives testimony to the haste of the work’s genesis, but nothing in the listening experience betrays anything other than thoughtfulness having been lavished upon the piece. The first movement is remarkable for its serene, extended opening section in the major mode, which is almost a movement in itself. The suspenseful open ending (on the dominant) unleashes a stormy G minor fast section in sonata form, in which the two instruments unleash pelting rain, lightning bolts, and sighing figures with equal passion. The second and final movement is a graceful theme with five charming variations, followed by a return to the theme with a decorative coda. Of special interest is Mozart’s dramatic use of minor-mode harmonies at the outset of the second half in variations 1, 2, 3, and 5. What is so remarkable is that this striking feature is not present in the original theme. The entire course of the fourth variation unfolds in the minor mode except for a brief hint of major at the analogous spot. Variation 5 returns to the major mode with its sweetly ornamented melody supported by pizzicato broken chords in the manner of a serenader’s guitar. The “minor-mode switch” makes its most theatrical impression in this final variation. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

JERUSALEM QUARTET Alexander Pavlovsky, 1st violin Sergei Bresler, 2nd violin Ori Kam, viola Kyril Zlotnikov, cello “Passion, precision, warmth, a gold blend: these are the trademarks of this excellent Israeli string quartet.” Such was the Times’ (London) impression of the Jerusalem Quartet. Since the ensemble's founding in 1993 and subsequent 1995 debut, the four Israeli musicians have embarked on a journey of growth and maturation. Their breadth of repertoire and stunning depth of expression have firmly established their unique place in the string quartet tradition. The ensemble has found its core in a warm, full, human sound and an egalitarian balance between high and low voices. This approach allows the quartet to maintain a healthy relationship between individual expression and a transparent and respectful presentation of the composer's work. It is also the drive and motivation for their continuing refinement of its interpretations of the classical repertoire as well as exploration of new epochs. The Jerusalem Quartet is a regular and beloved guest on the world’s great concert stages. The 2024/25 season will mark the Quartet’s 30th anniversary. To celebrate this milestone, the Quartet will put a spotlight on the cycle of Shostakovich’s 15 quartets, which they will present in 10 cities worldwide including St. Paul, Cleveland, and Portland, Ore., London, Zurich, Amsterdam, Cologne, and Sao Paulo. Additional highlights this season include performances in Houston, Miami, Boston, San Francisco, Salt Lake City, Phoenix, Albuquerque, Iowa City, Cincinnati, and Monterrey, Mexico, among other North American cities, and a return to the Konzerthaus in Berlin; the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris, and London’s Wigmore Hall. The Jerusalem Quartet’s numerous recordings have garnered many awards and accolades including the Diapason d'Or and the BBC Music Magazine Award for chamber music. After releasing 16 albums for the Harmonia Mundi label starting in 2005, the quartet now records exclusively for the BIS label. The quartet’s inaugural release for BIS, in December 2024, will include Shostakovich quartets Nos. 2, 7, and 10. Previous releases for Harmonia Mundi include a unique album exploring Jewish music in Central Europe between the wars including a collection of Yiddish Cabaret songs from Warsaw in the 1920s, featuring Israeli Soprano Hila Baggio. In 2020, the Jerusalem Quartet released the second (and last) album of their complete Bartók cycle.

CECILIA BRAUER, ARMONICA Cecilia Brauer studied the piano with Isabelle Vengerova at the prestigious Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. She has toured the U.S. in concert and has been an associate member of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra since 1972 where she plays the celeste, and when on tour, the piano. In 1991, Cecilia added a new dimension to a very successful piano career, namely, the Armonica. She is now one of only a handful of musicians in the world actively involved performing on the instrument. She gives lecture/demonstration programs called “Ben Franklin and the Armonica” and “Ben Franklin, the Musician” at museums, historical sites, libraries, social organizations, etc. These have included The National Portrait Gallery in Washington, DC, Independence National Historical Park, Corning Glass Museum, Carnegie Museum, Franklin Institute, the Fraunces Tavern Museum, the Van Cortlandt House, and Asahi Glass Co. in Japan. She has been featured on “The Morry Story” on CBS-TV, and on “New York Views” on WABC-TV. She has introduced her program into the public schools elementary system where it has been enthusiastically received by students and educators alike. In recent seasons she has been heard on the Armonica at Metropolitan Opera performing Donizetti’s original solos for that instrument in the Mad Scene of Lucia di Lammermoor.

December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Sinfonia from Cantata, BWV 29 (arr. Marcel Dupre) December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ As the busiest and most important musician in one of the most active music centers in Germany in the 1730s and ’40s, how did Bach find time to meet all of his obligations? He had arrived in Leipzig in 1723 to take up the position of Kantor of the renowned Thomasschule, which meant that, in addition to overseeing music at the four major churches, he held the post of civic music director. As if that weren’t enough, he took on the music directorship of the University of Leipzig and, from 1729 until the early 1740s (with a short interruption from 1737 to 1739), he directed the Collegium Musicum, which presented weekly public concerts. The duties associated with all of these positions included composing music for all the principal Sunday services, church feasts, and occasions such as weddings, birthdays, and city events; training all the singers at the Thomasschule to staff the four choirs; and training instrumentalists who ranged from students at the Thomasschule and the University to the city’s professional musicians. Like many an enterprising composer before and after him, Bach borrowed from materials he had composed earlier to meet the constant demand. Just as his cantatas provided a rich source for instrumental works, the cantatas themselves also borrowed from each other and from other genres. In the case of the Sinfonia from Cantata 29, “Wir danken dir, Gott, wir danken dir” (We thank you, God, we thank you), Bach needed to compose a celebratory cantata for the inauguration of the Leipzig town council on August 27, 1731. So, he borrowed from the Sinfonia that opens Part 2 of his Cantata 120a, “Herr Gott, Beherrscher aller Dinge” (Lord God, ruler of all things), which he had written for a wedding, most likely in 1729. (That cantata survives in incomplete state, but has been reconstructed with help from the sources of its borrowed material.) For that wedding cantata, Bach had taken the unusual step of fashioning the Sinfonia for the massive forces of organ and orchestra out of a movement for unaccompanied violin—the Preludio of his E major Partita, which dates from 1720 when he was in Cöthen. As often with his borrowings, he used a different key, in this case D major, which he maintained for the 1731 cantata. The Partita movement’s merry perpetual motion made its reuse entirely fitting for these festive occasions and has contributed to the piece’s remarkable popularity. Numerous arrangers have seized on the Preludio/Sinfonia to adapt it for various instruments and instrumental combinations. Organ transcriptions work particularly well, since Bach himself already paved the way. Out of many, Paul Jacobs has chosen that by the great French organist and composer Marcel Dupré, known especially for his virtuoso, symphonic organ music and for his prodigious technique, improvisation skills, and memory—and, as a fitting sidebar to this 335th Bach anniversary celebration, Dupré is credited as the first to perform Bach’s entire organ works in a series of concerts given at the Paris Conservatoire in 1920. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

March 24, 2019: Sarah Crocker Vonsattel, violin; Gilles Vonsattel, piano JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Violin and Piano Sonata in E, BWV 1016 March 24, 2019: Sarah Crocker Vonsattel, violin; Gilles Vonsattel, piano Bach may have begun his six Sonatas for violin and keyboard (BWV 1014–19) before 1725—possibly in Cöthen—but it is clear that he completed them c. 1725 in Leipzig, where he served as director of the city’s church music and of the Collegium Musicum. (For more about the Collegium see the notes for the Double Violin Concerto.) Some of the important surviving manuscript sources, dating from the mid 1720s and 1740s, show layers of emendation, suggesting that the sonatas were played frequently and that slight modifications were introduced. Bach’s accompanied Violin Sonatas differ from other Baroque violin sonatas in that the keyboard serves as an equal partner to the violin instead of merely providing continuo accompaniment. In many Baroque sonatas the keyboard part consists of a written-out bass line and a set of numerical figures that indicate which harmonies are to be filled in by the right hand. In these sonatas, however, Bach writes out a specific, independent part for the keyboard right hand, which engages in dialogue and independent counterpoint with the violin in the manner of a trio sonata. In regard to formal plan, Bach did embrace tradition—in all but the sixth of the Violin Sonatas he kept the typical sonata da chiesa (church sonata) sequence of four movements—fast, slow, fast, slow. The imposing Adagio that opens the E major Sonata, shows an exception to the general predominance of trio sonata texture. In this case the violin plays sweeping phrases, the keyboard right hand plays chords in an ostinato or repetitive pattern, and the left hand provides solemn, measured pacing. The main theme of the fugal Allegro transmits an innocent, popular character. Though the movement is clearly delineated in A–B–A form, the main theme recurs even in the cantabile B section. The return of the A section is considerably condensed. The third movement takes the form of a modulating chaconne or passacaglia in which the repeating pattern (occasionally altered) occurs in the bass. The violin and the keyboard right hand play independent melodic lines. At the end Bach writes out a miniature “cadenza” where other Baroque composers might have left an improvisation up to the performer. Bach’s irrepressible closing movement again displays ternary structure. The middle section features a contrasting triplet idea, though ideas from the opening section eventually appear here as well. Bach makes it very clear, nevertheless, when the opening section proper returns. Throughout the movement the trio sonata texture is fully exploited in the engaging interplay between the violin and keyboard right hand. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

SCOTT STEVENS, PERCUSSION Scott Stevens has been a percussionist and timpanist with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra since 1977. He received his degrees from The Juilliard School where he studied with Saul Goodman and Elden “Buster” Bailey. In the summers, Mr. Stevens is a member of the percussion faculty at the Interlochen Arts Camp, Interlochen, Michigan.

DEAN LEBLANC, BASSET HORN Clarinetist Dean LeBlanc has been performing with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra as an Associate Musician since 1998. He enjoys a versatile performance career as an orchestral musician and has also performed with the New York Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Mostly Mozart Orchestra, Lincoln Center Festival, Orchestra of St. Luke’s, Santa Fe Opera, New York City Opera, American Symphony Orchestra, Bard Music Festival, American Ballet Theatre Orchestra, New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, and Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra. As a chamber musician he has performs frequently with the MET Chamber Ensemble, Skaneateles Festival, the New York Chamber Music Festival, and the New York Philharmonic’s CONTACT! Series to include a few. Mr. LeBlanc has recorded for Decca, Atlantic, Telarc, New World Records, and EMI labels as well as for numerous major motion picture soundtracks including the Emmy Award Winning HBO Miniseries Mildred Pierce and the Oscar Winning Films True Grit, and Joker. He can be heard on four of the MET’s Grammy Award winning recordings, including Der Ring des Nibelungen, The Tempest, Porgy and Bess, and Akhnaten. Mr. LeBlanc is a Selmer Artist and serves on the Adjunct Faculty of the Juilliard School.

March, 10 2024: Richard Goode, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) The Diabelli Variations, Op. 120 March, 10 2024: Richard Goode, piano Before I became head program annotator at the Aspen Music Festival, I had the great privilege of working closely with my predecessor, the extremely knowledgeable music historian, philosopher, and writer Kurt Oppens. In addition to becoming acquainted with thousands of his program notes and essays, I had the honor of coediting a collection of favorites (see below) that included the following note, reprinted for his substantive and insightful perspective on this beloved masterwork. —Jane Vial Jaffe Anton Diabelli was a businessman, a music publisher, and a minor composer in his own right; some of his piano duets for beginners are still around and occasionally taught and practiced. In 1819 he committed a waltz theme to paper, intending to use it for a publicity stunt. This is the story as related by Thayer (1964): Anton Diabelli, a partner in the firm of Cappi and Diabelli, invited a number of composers to contribute a variation on a waltz theme of his own for a collection to be entitled Vaterländischer Kunstverein (Patriotic Art Society). The invitations were presumably made in 1819. According to Schindler,1 Beethoven at first refused the invitation. However, by early 1819 Beethoven had made sketches for four different variations, which come just before the preliminary sketches for the “Kyrie” of the Missa solemnis . Beethoven did his main work on the variations in 1822, and the full thirty-three variations were completed by March or April, 1823. To quote Thayer: “The Variations [Beethoven’s] were advertised as published on June 16, 1824 . . . were republished in June, 1824, as Part 1 of Diabelli’s Vaterländischer Künstlerverein ,2 subtitled “Variations for the Pianoforte on a theme composed by the most select composers and virtuosi of Vienna and the R. I. Austrian State.” Part 2 consisted of 50 variations by 50 different composers.” Among these fifty were Liszt, who was twelve years old in 1823; Schubert; and the Archduke Rudolph, Beethoven’s most highly placed patron and student. The story is interesting, because it illustrates the popularity of serious musical procedures, such as the variation. We also note a stunning incongruity of cause and effect: Diabelli’s enterprise, essentially a commercial gimmick, turning out to be the “breeding ground” for one of Beethoven’s greatest masterpieces. Beethoven’s attitude toward Diabelli’s proposal and Diabelli’s theme was curiously ambiguous. He refused at first to participate, and he derided the theme because of its rosalias, or sequences (repetition of motives on different pitches), for which he used the popular term “Schusterfleck” (cobbler’s patch). Moving on by the way of sequences was considered to be a cheap way out for composers—how would Beethoven have reacted to the scores of Wagner and Bruckner? As time moved on, though, the theme completely obsessed and engulfed him, and this development poses two questions for us: Why did Beethoven reject the theme? Why did he later on become so profoundly involved in it? Diabelli’s theme has been well-nigh buried under a shower of invectives since its inception. Yet it is neither banal nor vulgar nor overly simple; in fact, there is nothing at all the matter with it, which becomes quite evident whenever it is played as a waltz and not rattled off in the insane presto tempo that some pianists, influenced by the “vivace” designation, consider appropriate. But it is devoid of poetic and emotional content, and that makes it seem poor in comparison to the unbelievable metamorphoses it undergoes in Beethoven’s hands. Beethoven’s variations also reflect a curious imbalance in the theme in regard to its harmonic progressions. Four bars of the tonic (C major) are followed by four bars of the dominant (G major), after which come several tonic-dominant (1-V) progressions (passing modulations, the rosalias) in short succession. In view of the crowding of the I-Vs starting at the ninth bar, the extended I-V at the beginning becomes an acute embarrassment to the composer. He has to supply it with sufficient interest, intentionality, and dynamism, to lead us into the modulatory part without a break, which meant covering up its basically primitive nature by all possible means. This was the difficulty, this was the challenge—and, interestingly, it was generated by the compositional process itself. Diabelli’s initial I-V progression is completely innocuous and acceptable; it became a problem only when Beethoven began to make it meaningful. Out of this difficulty arose the most consistently maintained flow of high-intensity musical poetry ever to grace a cycle of variations. It is impossible to specify within a short space Beethoven’s unbelievable rhythmic, dramatic, lyrical, or contrapuntal exploits in this work; it is equally impossible to tell all he does with the original theme. All this would be the fit subject of a by no means small book.3 I can mention merely a few of the most obvious features of the cycle: There are no “ornamental” variations, in the old sense of the word, to be found (i.e., variations that merely embellish the theme without changing it). Beethoven includes, however, a small number of “reductive” variations which present the theme contracted to its very essentials (in Variations 13 and 20). Counterpoint is all-pervasive; imitation and canon techniques are applied to a considerable percentage of the variations. One variation refers to and quotes Mozart’s Don Giovanni (No. 24). Some of the variations display virtuosic or etude features, others recall one or the other of the Bagatelles, op. 119. Occasionally we find them paired (one variation continues the motion of the preceding one, or it repeats a dominant feature in a different manner). In devising the cycle, Beethoven does not seem to have followed a meticulously laid-out architectural ground plan. His scenario is dramatic in character: each variation continues where the last one left off; due to the generative power in each individual piece, we are kept breathless, in a state of permanent excitement as if we were exposed to a highly charged sequence of operatic scenes. There are, though, pauses or retardations; at these points we have to collect ourselves and make a new beginning. After the relentless piling-up of drama that precedes it, the Variation 20, an extremely slow piece consisting only of held-out chords, is a veritable test of nerves for the listener. The cycle has a distinctly marked-out finale area, which is characterized by a general easing of tensions and intensities. No. 24 is a fughetta, No. 32 a double fugue (one of Beethoven’s greatest, i.e., most natural-sounding); the traditional contrapuntal forms have a comparatively quiet character even when they appear at their liveliest, because of their tendency toward an even flow of notes and the absence of rhythmic shocks. The thirty-first variation, Largo molto espressivo, is an ornamented paraphrase of the theme, which proceeds with leisure; obviously the heat is over. At the very end, a completely relaxed minuet leads into a “calm of mind, all passion spent” coda. —©Kurt Oppens, Kurt Oppens on Music: Notes and Essays for the Aspen Music Festival, 1957–1955, edited by Nancy G. Thomas and Jane Vial Jaffe, 2009; first printed 1981; reprinted by permission. 1. Schindler was Beethoven’s student, famulus, and “whipping boy.” 2. Kunstverein (Society for the Arts) had changed into Künstlerverein (Society of Artists); the vaterländisch in both headings reflects the chauvinistic atmosphere in post-Napoleonic Germany and Austria. 3. Eds. William Kinderman’s 230-page nook, Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations , appeared in 1987. Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 19, 2009 – Elmar Oliveira, violin; John Novacek, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Sonata No. 10 in G, Op. 96 for violin and piano April 19, 2009 – Elmar Oliveira, violin; John Novacek, piano In 1812, the year Beethoven composed his tenth and final violin sonata, he wrote in his diary, “Everything that is called life should be sacrificed to the sublime and be a sanctuary of art.” The sublime tenderness of the G Major Sonata may surprise those expecting the fist-shaking defiance of his Fifth Symphony or the turbulence of the Appassionata piano sonata. Here we encounter a “kinder, gentler” Beethoven, passing from his heroic middle period into a more ruminative, profound late period. In this piece, pain and struggle recede and are replaced by an intimate, pastoral warmth. Dedicated to his devoted patron Archduke Rudolf, the piece was premiered in December of that year with the Archduke at the piano. The violinist was the Frenchman Pierre Rode, once considered the finest of his time but, in 1812, somewhat past his prime. Rode’s advancing age may have dictated a less vigorous work than Beethoven’s previous violin sonata, the monumental “Kreutzer” of 1803. But the gentle, musing atmosphere of Op. 96 is more probably an outgrowth of Beethoven’s evolving inner life. The first movement begins with a rustling, feathery trill, establishing the pastoral tone of the sonata. A jauntier second theme does little to disturb the overall serenity of the exposition. Themes unfold in an instinctive, stream-of-consciousness manner. At times the music seems to hover, circle around, and wander down unexpected paths, which become, in turn, the bases for further explorations. The warm, hymn-like second movement, marked “slow and expressive,” is one of Beethoven’s most beautiful Adagios. A flowing, tranquil stream of melody is couched in rich, chorale-like harmonies. The peaceful movement concludes with a moment of suspended animation before diving into the more agitated third movement, a minor key Scherzo. Though distinguished by syncopated, end-of-the-bar accents, the music never becomes brusque. The Scherzo alternates with a graceful, waltzing Trio set over a bagpipe drone, again reinforcing the work’s pastoral character. Beethoven wrote to the Archduke, “I have not hurried unduly to compose the last movement, as in view of Rode’s playing I have had to give thought to the composition of this movement. In our finales we like to have fairly noisy passages, but R does not care for them – and so I have been rather hampered.” Beethoven finally settled on a genial, folk-like melody as the basis for an unconventional set of variations. Four increasingly active variations lead to a prolonged, expressive Adagio, somewhat reminiscent of the atmosphere of the second movement. Eloquent instrumental exchanges are interrupted by dreamy, chromatic piano cadenzas. The initial theme eventually returns, leading to a boisterous section that is interrupted by a quiet, mysterious canon before returning to the original theme. The listener is surprised by a short, final Adagio, after which the violin and piano regain their resolve and sprint to an unbridled, joyous conclusion. By Michael Parloff Return to Parlance Program Notes

February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Deh vieni non tardar (from Le Nozze di Figaro) February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano The Marriage of Figaro has often been described as the perfect comic opera because it combines engaging entertainment with exquisite musical construction. Mozart had complained to his father in 1783 of having read hundreds of plays, none suitable as a comic opera subject. In late 1785, after aborting several attempts to set existing Italian librettos, he eagerly turned to Beaumarchais’s play Le mariage de Figaro, ou La folle journée (The marriage of Figaro, or The crazy day) once it became clear that Lorenzo da Ponte would write him a libretto. That Mozart composed at “breakneck speed” suggests an imminent production at Vienna’s Burgtheater that December, but the opera was not produced until May 1, 1786. It seems that censors needed time to ascertain that enough adjustment had been made to the politically subversive elements that had caused the play to be banned throughout the Hapsburg empire. Apparently, there were also delays owing to machinations by da Ponte’s rival Abbé Casti and Mozart’s rival Antonio Salieri, as well as problems with procuring dancers and a cast change for the Countess. In the end it was a success, to the point that after the third performance the emperor had to limit encores to keep the opera from lasting all night. Yet Figaro did not achieve its full measure of success until it was produced in Prague the following year, leading to the commission Don Giovanni. Mozart had been writing with such zeal in part because knew that banned subject matter would attract an audience. Further, he could count on familiarity with the characters from Giovanni Paisiello’s greatly successful opera Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville), based on the first of Beaumarchais’s trilogy—and, he was certain he could outdo his rival. As in the play, all of the action takes place in one day, the marriage day of Figaro and Susanna, servants to Count and Countess Almaviva. The main strand of the 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. Woven into the web are myriad subplots involving Figaro and Marcellina (the Count’s housekeeper), Dr. Bartolo’s desire for revenge on Figaro, the Countess trying to regain her husband’s love, and the womanizing young page Cherubino. For the Vienna revival in 1789, Mozart wrote two replacement arias specifically for Adriana Ferrarese del Bene, da Ponte’s mistress, who—unlike Nancy Storace, the original Susanna—had no comedic acting skills though she had a beautiful voice. In Act 2, Susanna dresses Cherubino as a girl to take her place and compromise the Count. The original “Venite, inginocchiatevi” requires a great deal of comedic acting, so Mozart instead substituted a “stand-and-sing” aria, “Un moto di gioia” (A feeling of joy) for Ferrarese, saying, “The little aria I have written for her I believe will please, if she is capable of singing it in an artless manner, which I very much doubt.” The strophic (several verses sung to the same music) aria is indeed very pleasing, and lovely to hear, since it is rarely used in modern performance. The great “Deh vieni, non tardar” (Oh, come, do not delay) was Susanna’s other aria that Mozart had to replace (which he did with “Al desio” [At the desire], an elaborate rondo showcase). With that substitution, the 1789 audience missed out on one of his most masterful arias—happily included on this afternoon’s program and in most performances of the complete opera. The crucial situation in Act II when Susanna sings “Deh vieni” called for multiple layers of meaning, which Mozart admirably achieved. Susanna and the Countess are disguised as each other to entrap the Count. Figaro has found out about their scheme, but Susanna knows he knows and that he is hiding in the bushes. Thus, as she sings of her love, supposedly for the Count, she is actually singing seductively to Figaro, though he suspects otherwise and becomes jealous. Mozart acknowledges Susanna’s being disguised as the Countess by giving her music more usually suited to noble characters than servants, including preparing it with an extended accompagnato recitative. He also provides the perfect mix of tender longing and mischief. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Aria SUSANNA Un moto di gioia Mi sento nel petto, Che annunzia diletto In mezzo il timor! Speriam che in content Finisca l’affanno Non sempre é tiranno Il fato ed amor. —Lorenzo da Ponte Recitative accompagnato SUSANNA Giunse alfin il momento che godrò senz’affanno in braccio all’idol mio. Timide cure, uscite dal mio petto, a turbar non venite il mio diletto! Oh, come par che all’amoroso foco l’amenità del loco, la terra e il ciel risponda, come la notte i furti miei seconda! Aria Deh, vieni, non tardar, oh gioia bella, vieni ove amore per goder t’appella, finché non splende in ciel notturna face, finché l’aria è ancor bruna e il mondo tace. Qui mormora il ruscel, qui scherza l’aura, che col dolce sussurro il cor ristaura, qui ridono i fioretti e l’erba è fresca, ai piaceri d’amor qui tutto adesca. Vieni, ben mio, tra queste piante ascose, ti vo’ la fronte incoronar di rose. —Lorenzo da Ponte Aria SUSANNA An emotion of joy I feel in my breast, which proclaims delight in the midst of fear! I hope that in contentment distress will end; not always tyrannical are fate and love. Accompanied recitative SUSANNA At last the moment has come when I can rejoice without worry in my lover’s arms. Timid cares, coming forth from my breast, do not come to disturb my delight! Oh, how it seems to the amorous fire, the congeniality of this place, that earth and heaven respond, as the night furthers my designs! Aria Oh, come, do not delay, oh beautiful joy, come where love calls you to enjoy, until night’s torches do not shine in the sky, while the air is still dark and the world quiet. Here the stream murmurs, the light plays, which with sweet whispers restores the heart, here little flowers laugh and the grass is fresh, here everything entices to love’s pleasures. Come, my dear, hidden among these bushes, I want to wreathe your brow with roses. Return to Parlance Program Notes

SHERYL STAPLES, VIOLIN Violinist Sheryl Staples joined the New York Philharmonic as Principal Associate Concertmaster, The Elizabeth G. Beinecke Chair, in 1998, and made her solo debut with the Orchestra in 1999 performing Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, led by Kurt Masur. She has since been featured in more than 25 performances, playing concertos by Mendelssohn, Mozart, Haydn, Bach, and Vivaldi with conductors including Alan Gilbert, Lorin Maazel, Kent Nagano, Jeffrey Kahane, Colin Davis, and Jaap van Zweden. She has also performed as soloist with more than 45 other orchestras nationwide, including The Cleveland Orchestra, Los Angeles Philharmonic, San Diego and Richmond Symphony Orchestras, and Louisiana Philharmonic. An active chamber musician, Ms. Staples frequently performs in New York-area venues including David Geffen Hall, Merkin Concert Hall, 92nd Street Y, and The Metropolitan Museum of Art. She has performed chamber music for U.S. Ambassadors in London, Paris, Berlin, Beijing, and Hong Kong, and in 2013 she toured Mexico, Brazil, and Chile. Recent summer festival appearances include La Jolla Music Society’s SummerFest, Boston Chamber Music Society, and Salt Bay Chamberfest. She has also collaborated and performed at the chamber music festivals of Santa Fe, Mainly Mozart, Seattle, Aspen, Sarasota, Martha’s Vineyard, Strings Music Festival, and Brightstar Music Festival. She appears on three Stereophile compact discs with the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival. A native of Los Angeles, Sheryl Staples began studying the violin at age five; her major mentors were Robert Lipsett and Heiichiro Ohyama. Before finishing studies at the University of Southern California’s (USC) Thornton School of Music, Ms. Staples was appointed concertmaster of the Santa Barbara Chamber Orchestra and other professional ensembles in Los Angeles. She then became concertmaster of the Pacific Symphony in 1994 while enjoying a varied career consisting of solo appearances, chamber music, teaching (at USC’s Thornton School of Music and the Colburn School of Performing Arts), and Hollywood studio recording work for numerous major motion pictures. At the age of 26, Ms. Staples joined The Cleveland Orchestra as associate concertmaster. Having taught at the Cleveland Institute of Music, Encore School for Strings, and Kent/Blossom Music Festival, and serving as a member of the Cleveland Orchestra Piano Trio, she is currently on the violin faculty at the Manhattan School of Music and Juilliard Pre-College Division. She also serves on the faculty of The Juilliard School working with students aspiring toward orchestral careers. Ms. Staples and her husband, percussionist Barry Centanni, premiered William Kraft’s Concerto a Tre for piano, violin, and percussion, written for them, at Martha’s Vineyard Chamber Music Society’s summer festival and recorded it for release on the Albany Records label in 2008. They also premiered David Sampson’s Black River Concerto for solo violin, percussion, and orchestra in April 2011 with the Montclair State University Symphony. Ms. Staples performs on the “Kartman” Guarneri del Gesu, c. 1728, previously on loan from private collector Peter Mandell and now in the collection of the New York Philharmonic.

September 24, 2017: Mark Holloway, viola; Michael Brown, piano FÉLICIEN DAVID (1810-1876) La nuit September 24, 2017: Mark Holloway, viola; Michael Brown, piano One of the world’s great violin prodigies, Henry Vieuxtemps also grew equally proficient on the viola, which he sometimes played in string quartets, a genre he loved. As a composer he developed largely on his own after some preliminary instruction from Simon Sechter in Vienna and Antoine Reicha in Paris. He gravitated naturally to the violin genres, but he also wrote chamber music—his three string quartets stand out in particular—and a select few viola compositions. His gently flowing La nuit for viola and piano draws on the “rêverie du soir” from Le désert, the programmatic ode-symphonie by Félician David that took Paris by storm in 1844. David had spent some years in Egypt to preach the Saint-Simonian gospel in hopes of restoring Egypt to its ancient greatness. His explorations there led to this descriptive work for soloists, male chorus, reciter and orchestra, which won extravagant praise from Berlioz. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes