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October 5, 2014 – Arnaud Sussmann and Erin Keefe violins; Hsin-Yun Huang, viola; Rafael Figueroa, cello; Gilles Vonsattel, piano JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Piano Quintet in F minor, Op. 34 October 5, 2014 – Arnaud Sussmann and Erin Keefe violins; Hsin-Yun Huang, viola; Rafael Figueroa, cello; Gilles Vonsattel, piano In 1862 Brahms was seized with ideas for a string quintet of the Schubertian type—string quartet with second cello. Plagued with customary self doubts, and bearing in mind the friendly advice of violinist and composer Joseph Joachim that the ideas were too strong for the sonority of a string quintet, Brahms destroyed his first attempt, recasting it as a Sonata for two pianos in 1863–64. Brahms premiered this version with Carl Tausig early in 1864. Still unsatisfied, and heeding the advice of Clara Schumann, to whom it sounded like an arrangement, Brahms again rewrote the work in the summer of 1864 as a quintet for piano and strings. (This history brings to mind the composer’s First Piano Concerto, which also evolved through various forms.) Brahms’s Piano Quintet was published in 1865 after at least one private trial performance in November 1864; the first public performance took place in Leipzig on June 22, 1866. The Quintet has become one of the most famous and best-loved works in the chamber music repertoire. Repeated hearings do nothing to dull the sense of its power and beauty. The Piano Quintet version has attracted the most performers, but Brahms thought enough of the two-piano version not to destroy it—a major vote of confidence where he was concerned. He had it published, moreover, with the separate opus number 34b, though not until 1872, seven years after the Quintet version was published. It seems that the dedicatee, Princess Anna von Hessen, had been holding onto the loaned manuscript all that time. The opening figure, played in unison, displays a winding melodic shape that is constantly varied but recognizable throughout the work—a faster variation of the figure follows immediately in the fifth measure. Another idea that permeates the Quintet is the melodic half step, which first appears in forceful chords punctuating the rapid piano notes. All of the ideas in the second theme area treat this germinal half-step idea, often in lyrical fashion. The distant new key of the second theme, characterized by downward leaps, creates a remarkable tonal contrast with the opening section. In fact, much of the drama of this movement is inextricably linked with Brahms’s use of harmonic tonal centers. When the second theme area returns in the recapitulation, he employs an especially remote key (F-sharp minor) rather than the home key so as to delay the effect of the return, but also introducing yet another half-step relationship. In the coda, a beautiful calm passage—Brahms indulging in his beloved contrapuntal writing—suggests the possibility of an ending in the major, but this is fiercely obliterated by the minor home key. The slow, rocking motion of the second movement proves tremendously soothing after the stormy first movement. Its simple ternary form again exploits the same kind of key relationship as the first movement. Brahms also indulges in his fondness for parallel thirds and sixths throughout the movement. When the first section returns it is lovingly rescored. The Scherzo begins with a shadowy, eerie theme, only to be banished by a joyous if short-lived chordal outburst. So stunning is this effect that the motivic connection between it and the preceding staccato theme in a different meter might be overlooked. Typical and ingenious of Brahms, both of these are also related to the opening melodic motive of the first movement and its variants. Following a noble trio section with broad melody, he repeats the Scherzo literally. The ending of the Scherzo section—and thus the ending of the movement—shows a marked similarity to the ending of the finale of Schubert’s C major Quintet, D. 956, op. 163, which Brahms came to know well while he was writing his own Quintet. Again it emphasizes the all-important half step. The great English music scholar Donald Francis Tovey wrote that “the savage [half-step] at the end of the scherzo, comes straight from the end of Schubert’s Quintet, and from nowhere else in the whole history of final chords.” Brahms’s experiment with form for the last movement of the Quintet looks forward to his own First Symphony finale. Here, following Schubert’s lead, he fashioned a sonata form in which the recapitulation also serves as development, the whole being framed by a slow introduction and an immense fast coda. The jolly, folk-tinged first theme, which follows a somber introduction, again shows similarities with the opening theme of the Quintet. The Presto coda, one of the movement’s most remarkable features, encapsulates the entire movement, turning the main theme into a storm of staccato triplets and further varying the second theme. Its final section of syncopations is “straightened out” only at the very end by the forceful closing gesture. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

March 19, 2023 – Rachel Naomi Kudo, piano JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Chorale Prelude “Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme”, BWV 645 (arr. Busoni) March 19, 2023 – Rachel Naomi Kudo, piano Our discussion of the present three Bach transcriptions must begin with Ferrucio Busoni, who was Egon Petri’s teacher. As a youth Busoni adored Bach above all other composers, a passion that endured throughout his life. He not only drew on Bach’s music for inspiration in his own works but he issued a monumental edition of Bach’s solo keyboard works transcribed for piano—a twenty-five volume collection plus a seven-volume set—aided by his students Egon Petri and Bruno Mugellini. So synonymous did Bach and Busoni become in the public’s mind that on Busoni’s first American tour his wife Gerda was once introduced by a society matron as “Mrs. Bach-Busoni.” This anecdote was related by Petri, a superb German pianist of Dutch descent, who began studying with Busoni in Weimar in 1901. Petri eventually settled in the United States, taught at Mills College, and authored many Bach transcriptions at Busoni’s behest. Busoni issued his Bach edition in two collections: the twenty-five-volume Klavierwerke, and the seven-volume Bach-Busoni edition. Although Busoni’s name appears on each volume of the Klavierwerke, many were edited by Petri and a few by Bruno Mugellini. Petri had expected Busoni to supervise his and Mugellini’s editorial work and they strove to operate under his principles and to emulate his style, yet Busoni concerned himself very little with reading their proofs, much to Petri’s surprise. Busoni strove to remain true to the essence of Bach’s music in his transcriptions, but inevitably his own Romantic sensibilities crept in with his addition of tempo and pedal markings, dynamics, register changes, repeats, and performance suggestions. Nevertheless, these transcriptions are rewarding additions to the piano repertoire. Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ—which appears as No. 5 in Busoni’s collection of Ten Chorale Preludes (1898) and No. 41 (BWV 639) in Bach’s Orgel-Büchlein (Little Organ Book)—has become a favorite of pianists and audiences for its poignant serenity. Flowing arpeggios in the middle voice accompany the tender, mostly unadorned chorale melody, supported by a steady “walking bass.” Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme is actually Busoni’s transcription of what was already a transcription by Bach himself. In 1731 Bach had composed the fourth movement of his Cantata 140 (Wachet auf) in chorale-prelude style with tenor(s) taking the chorale melody, surrounded by a a lyrical countermelody for upper strings in unison and supported by continuo (bass line and harmony). Thus it was a simple task to transfer all three parts to organ, which he did in BWV 645, one of a group of six late works that became known as the “Schübler Chorales” after their publication by Johann Georg Schübler in 1748–49. Busoni’s transcription for piano, No. 2 in his Ten Chorale Preludes, maintains the lilting flow in the upper line against the steady chorale in the middle voice. Turning to the first piece of the group of transcriptions, Egon Petri arranged his version of Schafe können sicher weiden (Sheep may safely graze) not from a chorale preude by Bach but rather a soprano aria from Cantata 208 Was mir behagt, ist nur die muntre Jagd! (What pleases me is above all the lively hunt). Bach wrote secular cantatas for aristocratic patrons to celebrate special occasions such as birthdays, name days, and accession days, or for academic ceremonies, and he composed Cantata 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. The lovely aria has been transcribed for countless times for various performing forces, among the first—Percy Grainger’s for band (1931), Mary Howe’s for solo piano and two pianos (1935), and William Walton’s for orchestra (1940). Egon Petri’s transcription, published in 1944 has become the best-known transcription for piano. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

January 19, 2020: Paul Lewis, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Piano Sonata No. 13 in E-flat major, op. 27, no. 1, “Quasi una fantasia” Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor, op. 27, no. 2, “Quasi una fantasia” (“Moonlight”) January 19, 2020: Paul Lewis, piano Beethoven, like Mozart, was famous for his ability to improvise both in formal and informal settings, and his pieces in fantasia style—free form stringing together of inventive figures, rhythmically unfettered gestures, and “strange effects” (often unusual harmonic progressions)—probably originated as improvisations. Previous to his two Opus 27 Sonatas, he and his predecessors Mozart and Haydn had written one-movement, multisectional fantasias or incorporated fantasia passages into sonata movements, but in 1800–01 Beethoven boldly expanded the fantasia idea into an entire multimovement structure. His label “quasi una fantasia ” for his Opus 27 Sonatas reflects this new outlook. In the first of these, the E-flat major Sonata , Beethoven runs all four movements together, making inner connections between movements. Modeled after Mozart’s celebrated C minor Fantasy, K. 475, the wonderfully imaginative E-flat major Sonata has unfortunately been overshadowed by its ultra-famous companion piece, the Moonlight Sonata. Beethoven composed the E-flat Sonata for his pupil and patron Princess Josephine Sophie von Liechtenstein, née Fürstenburg. The first movement unfolds in an unconventional three-part fantasia form, beginning at a novel slow pace with an unassuming air that gives nothing away about the power to come. The contrast with the fast, dancelike middle section is startling. The figuration here suggests Beethoven improvising in fantasia style. The C minor scherzo shows another kind of fantasia figuration—little three-note groups of broken chords in contrary motion. Beethoven evokes the hunt in the contrasting trio. When the scherzo returns, the three-note groups become ingeniously offset between the two hands. The brief slow movement makes its luminous entrance in a new key that holds over a common tone from the close of the previous movement. The graceful opening melody returns in higher register with elaborated accompaniment after a “middle section” in which much of the tune occurs on afterbeats. Beethoven concentrates the weight of the Sonata in this tour-de-force finale, for which he crafted an inspired quasi-contrapuntal main theme and combined sonata and rondo form. In his surprising conclusion he recalls the slow movement in a subtle variant, before dashing off in a presto coda based on the second two notes of his main theme. A discussion of the Moonlight Sonata no longer necessitates a protest against its nickname, which was not attached by Beethoven, but by music critic H.F.L. Rellstab, who likened the first movement to “a boat passing the scenery of Lake Lucerne in the moonlight.” It has also been clear since chronicler Otto Jahn’s conversations in 1852 with the Sonata’s dedicatee, Countess Giulietta Guicciardi, that Beethoven did not have her in mind when composing the work in 1801. Commentators had come to exaggerate a romantic relationship between the two when it was supposed that he wrote the “moonlight” movement as a love song to her. In fact, Beethoven dedicated the Sonata to her in replacement for a dedication (for the Rondo, op. 51, no. 2) that she had let him “take back” for another dedicatee. As it turned out with Countess Guicciardi, Beethoven seems to have followed his typical pattern of bestowing his affections on a lady of high social station until she married someone else. As to “her” C-sharp minor Sonata, Beethoven became annoyed at its immense popularity, stating to composer Carl Czerny, “Everybody is always talking about the C-sharp minor Sonata! Surely I have written better things.” Beethoven’s designation “fantasia” here refers to the hypnotic effect of the slow first movement, which sounds like a free improvisation in its harmonic plan and continuous figuration, though in fact it combines conventions of ternary and sonata form. The middle movement, which Liszt aptly described as “a flower between two abysses,” makes a bow to Classic grace. Its trio emphasizes a rhythmic idea that Beethoven had already introduced in the first section. The devilishly difficult Presto finale presents another kind of fantasia figuration, which with its savage ferocity surely resulted in broken strings on the pianos of Beethoven’s day. The first theme is fashioned from agitated arpeggios that lead to jabbing repeated chords, and though the second theme provides a slight relaxation, the agitated feeling persists in the accompaniment. What is so remarkable about this movement is that its ties to conventional sonata form are completely overshadowed by its radical gestures and textures, features of Beethoven’s improvisational, fantasia style with which he meant to astonish his listeners. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

SUNDAY, MAY 3, 2020 AT 3 PM PAUL HUANG AND DANBI UM, VIOLINS JUHO POHJONEN, PIANO BUY TICKETS DANBI UM, VIOLIN “Danbi Um’s playing is utterly dazzling…a marvelous show of superb technique” — The Strad JUHO POHJONEN, PIANO “Juho Pohjonen demonstrated his elegant musicianship, pearly touch, singing tone, and sensitivity throughout the program…everything about his recital was formidable” — The New York Times PAUL HUANG, VIOLIN FEATURING ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS Three of today’s most scintillating young will join forces in an eclectic program of rarely performed masterpieces. The concert will include exhilarating works by Beethoven, Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Pablo Sarasate, and a specially commissioned trio by the award-winning young American composer Chris Rogerson. PROGRAM Erich Wolfgang Korngold Suite from Much Ado about Nothing , Op. 11 Danbi Um, violin; Juho Pohjonen, piano Program Notes Moritz Moszkowski Suite for two violins and piano , Op. 71 Program Notes Ludwig van Beethoven Violin Sonata No. 8 in G Major, Op. 30, No. 3 Paul Huang, violin; Juho Pohjonen Program Notes Chris Rogerson New Work for two violins and piano Program Notes Amy Barlowe Hebrew Elegy for two violins Paul Huang and Danbi Um, violins Program Notes Pablo Sarasate Navarra, Op. 33 for two violins and piano Program Notes Watch violinists Paul Huang and Danbi Um perform Sarasate’s Navarra: Watch pianist Juho Pohjonen play Rameau’s Keyboard Suite No. 2:

October 29, 2017: Peter Serkin, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Adagio in B minor, K. 540 October 29, 2017: Peter Serkin, piano According to his own catalog, Mozart completed the Adagio, K. 540, on March 19, 1788. Two weeks earlier he had completed the last of his arias for sister-in-law Aloysia Weber, “Ah se in ciel,” K. 538, and the previous month the Piano Concerto in D major, K. 537, “Coronation,” but he was chiefly occupied by thoughts of the impending Vienna premiere of his opera Don Giovanni on May 7 that year. No specific event appears to have prompted the composition of this exquisite, solitary slow movement for piano, though its ending in B major has invited speculation that he may have intended it for a sonata in E minor. Distinguished English musicologist Arthur Hutchings deemed the Adagio Mozart’s finest single piano work and eminent Mozart scholar Alfred Einstein considered it “one of the most perfect, most deeply felt, and most despairing of all his works.” Had it found a place in a complete sonata it would no doubt have received the larger number of performances it merits. The Adagio displays the elegant simplicity that imparts poignance to so many of Mozart’s slow movements. Here sudden changes of dynamics and register supply drama. The movement follows sonata-form of the binary type, in which the second half containing the development and recapitulation is proportionally equal to the exposition. Mozart adds florid elaboration to the short coda, which ends serenely in B major. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 24, 2022 – Marc-André Hamlein, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Piano Sonata No. 29 in B-flat major, Op. 106 “Hammerklavier“ April 24, 2022 – Marc-André Hamlein, piano In the spirit of nationalism that erupted following the Napoleonic wars in Germany, Beethoven wrote to his publisher on January 23, 1817: “Henceforth all our works that have German titles are to have the name “Hammerklavier” instead of “pianoforte.” The composer also suggested the subtitle for his Opus 101 and 109 Sonatas, but in a curious twist of history only the famous Opus 106 Sonata became known by the designation—and that as a nickname rather than an indication of genre. During the Sonata’s composition in 1817–18 Beethoven was plagued by custody and care issues relating to his nephew Karl and by his own continued ill health. Nevertheless, he had entered his late composing phase, concentrating on one particular work at a time as if to wring the utmost from a genre in expression, intellectual exploration, and aesthetic depth. The Hammerklavier, Missa solemnis, Diabelli Variations, and Ninth Symphony all fit this mold. The Hammerklavier, with its powerful investigation of sonata form and fugue, represents a curious oasis between the daring formal experiments of the piano and cello sonatas immediately preceding and the Piano Sonatas, op. 109–111, that would soon follow. For the first time since his Sonata, op. 31, no. 3, Beethoven writes in the four-movement Classical mold, and yet he expands and explores the traditional forms to a radical extent. The first movement contains one of his longest development sections—replete with a fugal expanse—and his relatively short Scherzo nevertheless sports two trios. Following his slow movement, which is his longest, his fugal finale is positively massive—a precursor to his celebrated Grosse Fuge, originally the finale of his Opus 130 Quartet in the same key of B-flat. Many commentators, led by the distinguished Charles Rosen, have commented on the structural and thematic importance of descending thirds and on the clash of B-flat and B-natural in various harmonic contexts. These unifying threads permeate the composition in a much more profound way than a simple cyclic quotation of one movement in another. The striking chordal opening with its initial leap and distinctive rhythm shows the importance of the interval of the third, but the exuberant gesture also refers to Archduke Rudolph, the work’s dedicatee. The same idea appears in a sketch with the words “vivat, vivat Rudolphus.” A further “Archduke” connection involves the present first movement and that of the Archduke Trio. During the course of their similar harmonic schemes, both descend to the exotic G major for the second subject and employ chains of descending thirds in the development. The relatively brief scherzo adopts the first movement’s rising and falling thirds and warring B-flats and B-naturals but with a comic flair. Beethoven’s ending is a masterpiece of self-mockery—a jab at the weighty conflict between these two adversaries in his first movement. Beethoven added the two-note rising third that opens his slow movement at the proofing stage. This may lessen the shock of the movement’s distant tonality (F-sharp minor), but only by creating a bit of ambiguity before the first full chord. We listen raptly to the contemplative mood, the delicate ornamentation preceding the second theme, the variation of the first theme in the recapitulation, the ensuing unexpected harmonic journey, and the exquisitely simple version of the theme in the coda, but words fail to convey the profound effect of this movement. In the same way that Beethoven audibly searches for how to express the Ode to Joy in the last movement of his Ninth Symphony, here in his Hammerklavier finale he “finds his way” toward the monumental fugue by “trying out” several styles. A decisive leap recalls the opening of the first movement and launches the main fugue subject. He then displays his subject in all its academic permutations—augmentation, retrograde with a new countersubject, inversion—and with the original subject heard simultaneously with its inversion. But instead of pedantic logic he achieves drama and poetry through varied textures, harmonies, and pianistic colors, and mind-boggling manipulation of tension and release. He creates something entirely new out of the genre, remarkably superimposing elements of variation and rondo form on his fugue. The Hammerklavier Sonata has always stood out for its monumental proportions and its demands on the performer and listener alike. Beethoven was fully aware of its challenges when he told his publisher in 1819: “Now there you have a sonata that will keep the pianists busy when it is played fifty years hence.” © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

ISABEL LEONARD, MEZZO-SOPRANO Highly acclaimed for her “passionate intensity and remarkable vocal beauty,” Isabel Leonard continues to thrill audiences both at home in the United States and internationally. She is the recipient of the prestigious 2013 Richard Tucker Award from the Richard Tucker Music Foundation. In the 2013–2014 season, Isabel Leonard returned to the Metropolitan Opera as Doraballa in Così fan tutte under James Levine, which was also an HD broadcast in the spring of 2014. Ms. Leonard makes her highly-awaited debuts at the San Francisco Opera and the Lyric Opera of Chicago, both as Rosina in Il barbiere di Siviglia. She also debuts at the Dallas Opera as Rosina. In concert, she will appear alongside other opera luminaries at Carnegie Hall’s Marilyn Horne Song Celebration and with Nathan and Julie Gunn at the Krannert Center at the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana. Metropolitan Opera audiences recently heard Ms. Leonard in two important role debuts during the 2012–2013 season: Miranda in Ades’s The Tempest and as Blanche in John Dexter’s ground-breaking production of Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites. She also appeared in the English version of The Barber of Seville, which was broadcast internationally in HD. Last season also brought another important role and company debut as Sesto in Mozart’s La Clemenza di Tito at the Canadian Opera Company. In recital, Ms. Leonard was featured in her Zankel Hall recital debut at Carnegie Hall. She also appeared at the University of Notre Dame, Isabelle Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, San Francisco Performances, and at Atlanta’s Spivey Hall to rave reviews. She debuted Berlioz’s Les nuits d’été with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra under Edo de Waart and closed the season in Japan at the Saito Kinen Festival, where she performed the title role in L’enfant et les sortilèges and Concepcion in Ravel’s L’heure espagnole with Seiji Ozawa conducting. In recent seasons, Ms. Leonard has appeared as Dorabella in Cosi fan tutte, Cherubino in Le nozze di Figaro, Zerlina in Don Giovanni, and Rosina in Il barbiere di Siviglia, all at the Metropolitan Opera; as Sesto in Laurent Pelly’s production of Giulio Cesare at Opéra National de Paris with Emmanuel Haim conducting and as Cherubino; the Glyndebourne Festival as Cherubino in the new Michael Grandage production of Le Nozze di Figaro; and the Vienna State Opera as Rosina in Il barbiere di Siviglia and Cherubino in Le nozze di Figaro. She made a sensational role debut as Ruggiero in the new David Alden production of Handel’s Alcina at Opera National de Bordeaux and her interpretation of Costanza in the Peter Sellars production of Vivaldi’s Griselda at the Santa Fe Opera was met with the highest critical and audience acclaim. Other notable engagements have included the title role in Offenbach’s La Périchole at Opéra National de Bordeaux, where she also made her European and professional stage debut as Zerlina in Don Giovanni, Cherubino at the Bavarian State Opera in Munich, and Dorabella in a new production of Mozart’s Così fan tutte at the Salzburg Festival directed by Claus Guth, which was telecast live internationally. Ms. Leonard made her Metropolitan Opera debut as Stéphano in Roméo et Juliette conducted by Plácido Domingo. This production was recorded for DVD release and broadcast live in HD. She has appeared as Rosina in Rossini’s Il barbiere di Siviglia with Opera Colorado; in the title role of Rossini’s La Cenerentola at the Fort Worth Opera; as Zerlina in Don Giovanni with Chicago Opera Theater; as Cherubino in a new production of Le nozze di Figaro at the Santa Fe Opera; and made her professional U.S. opera debut as Stéphano in Atlanta Opera’s production of Roméo et Juliette. Ms. Leonard made her New York Philharmonic debut in Ravel’s L’enfant et les sortilèges conducted by Lorin Maazel, and her American orchestral debut in The Three-Cornered Hat with the Boston Symphony Orchestra at the Tanglewood Festival under Gustavo Dudamel. Other concert engagements include Mozart’s “Ch’io mi scordi di te?” with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, de Falla’s Siete canciones populares españolas with Gustavo Dudamel, and the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Hollywood Bowl, Mozart’s Exsultate, jubilate and Mahler’s Symphony No. 4. with the St. Louis Symphony, Mozart’s Mass in C minor with Esa-Pekka Salonen, and Berlioz’s Roméo et Juliette under Valery Gergiev, both with the Chicago Symphony, Cherubino in a concert version of Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro with the Cleveland Orchestra conducted by Franz Welser-Möst, and Berlioz’s Roméo et Juliette with James Conlon in her debut at the Cincinnati May Festival. Ms. Leonard is in constant demand as a recitalist, having made her first coast-to-coast recital tour in the 2007–08 season in Atlanta, Washington, D.C., San Francisco, Fort Worth and ending with her Carnegie Hall debut at Weill Recital Hall. She has appeared as a guest soloist in the Marilyn Horne Foundation’s 75th Birthday Gala in Carnegie Hall and was featured in a solo recital as part of the Foundation’s On Wings of Song series in New York City. Ms. Leonard has also performed with soprano Barbara Bonney in recital at Alice Tully Hall presented by the Lincoln Center Chamber Music Society Ms. Leonard is the recipient of numerous prestigious awards which include the Beverly Sills Award (2011), the Richard Gold Award of the Shoshana Foundation (2007), a Licia Albanese-Puccini Foundation Award (2006), the William Schuman Graduation Prize of the Juilliard School (2006), the Makiko Narumi Prize of the Juilliard School (2005), the Marilyn Horne Foundation Award of the Music Academy of the West (2005), and was a winner of the Giulio Gari Competition (2005). Isabel Leonard is a native New Yorker and received both her Bachelor and Masters of Music at The Juilliard School.

SUNDAY, APRIL 23, 2017 AT 3 PM Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Warren Jones, piano BUY TICKETS WARREN JONES, PIANO “His playing was a marvel, as always.” – San Francisco Chronicle ISABEL LEONARD, MEZZO-SOPRANO “Isabel Leonard sings with beguiling tenderness in moments of composure, but her voice throbs with penetrating intensity.’ – The New York Times FEATURING ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS On April 23 , Parlance’s 10th-anniversary season will arrive at a celebratory conclusion with the return of the Met’s ravishing mezzo-soprano Isabel Leonard , one of the most charismatic and fast-rising vocal stars of our time. Her sold-out Parlance debut in 2014-15 was one of the highlights of our past seasons. Isabel will be joined by the masterful collaborative pianist Warren Jones , a great favorite of our audience since his debut appearance in the winter of 2008. Don’t miss this glittering final event of Parlance Chamber Concert’s 10th-Anniversary season! PROGRAM Hector Berlioz Les nuits d’été Program Notes Jules Massenet The Letter Scene from Werther Program Notes Jules Massenet Va! Laisse couler mes larmes from Werther Program Notes Frédéric Chopin Four Mazurkas, Op. 67 for piano Program Notes Enrique Granados Canciones amatorias Program Notes Gioachino Rossini Canzonetta spagnuola Program Notes Isabel Leonard performs Rosina’s aria from Rossini’s Barber of Seville: Isabel Leonard performs Cherubino’s aria from Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro: Isabel Leonard performs Falla’s Polo on Parlance Chamber Concerts:

May 15, 2016: James Morris, bass-baritone; Ken Noda, piano JACQUES IBERT (1890-1962) Chansons de Don Quichotte May 15, 2016: James Morris, bass-baritone; Ken Noda, piano In 1932 film director Georg Pabst decided to make a film about Don Quixote starring the great Russian bass Chaliapin, who had created Massenet’s Don Quichotte. Though certain mystery surrounds the history of the film, it appears that the film company organized a kind of competition—unbeknownst to the composers involved—to write songs for it. Five composers—Marcel Delannoy, Manuel de Falla, Jacques Ibert, Darius Milhaud, and Maurice Ravel—were asked, though only Ravel and Ibert set to work. Ibert’s four settings, one of a Ronsard poem and three of Alexandre Arnoux, were chosen; he dedicated them to Chaliapin. Ravel, who was late submitting his three wonderful settings of Morand poems, considered bringing action against the company but gave up when the producers (not Pabst) absconded with the money for the film. Ibert was embarrassed when he learned his songs had been chosen over Ravel’s, but their friendship was not in the least impaired. The film was finally made with newly raised money, but seems to have had little success due to Chaliapin’s inability to adjust his theater technique to the medium of film. It is curious that Chaliapin’s recording of the songs, made on March 13, 1933, diverges in many ways from the letter of the score, particularly as Ibert was conducting. Ibert was drawn not only to films—he composed 63 film scores in all—but also to the Don Quixote story. In 1935 he wrote one of his most important works Chevalier errant (Knight Errant), a choreographic epic based on Don Quixote; he also orchestrated his Chansons de Don Quichotte. He said, “Indeed, the character of Don Quichotte has never ceased to follow me, or perhaps I am the one who has been looking for him all the time. Yet one should not conclude from this that I like to struggle against mills or that I am someone who can restore justice. Don Quichotte, to me, is a man in search of an ideal that he never finds.” The vocal melismas and guitar-like accompaniment of “Chanson du départ” (Song of Parting) immediately impart the Spanish flavor of Don Quixote’s country—Spanish impressions were immensely popular with French composers of the time. “Chanson à Dulcinée” (Song to Dulcinea) alternates a quick refrain with two slower verses, the second a variant of the first. Its sustained, quiet ending in fairly high register was meant to show off Chaliapin’s great control. “Chanson du duc” (The Duke’s Song) consists of three short energetic verses, each slowing to a crawl; the modal style suggests times of old. In “Chanson de la mort de Don Quichotte” (Song of Don Quixote’s Death) the dying Don bids farewell to Sancho Panza to a simple accompaniment. His sustained dying note is set yet a half step higher than the ending of “Dulcinea’s Song.” © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

October 18, 2009 – David Chan, violin; Jeewon Park, piano, Rafael Figueroa, cello JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Trio in B Major, Op. 8, for violin, cello, and piano October 18, 2009 – David Chan, violin; Jeewon Park, piano, Rafael Figueroa, cello Johannes Brahms’ Piano Trio, Opus 8, is in many respects a paradoxical work. Progressing from a radiant B major to a tragic B minor, the piece juxtaposes passages of luxurious warmth and optimism and music of turbulence and despair. It is also, in the version heard most often today, simultaneously one of Brahms’ earliest and latest works. He had already started composing the trio in 1853, when the great Hungarian violinist Joseph Joachim gave the 20-year-old Brahms a letter of introduction to Robert and Clara Schumann. Brahms’ meeting with the Schumanns at their Düsseldorf home marked an important turning point in his life and career. The Schumanns received him with enormous enthusiasm and generosity. They invited him to stay with them for several weeks, initiating a close friendship that would last for the rest of their lives. Schumann wrote glowingly about the younger composer in his influential journal The New Leipzig Musical Times, and he introduced Brahms to the head of the prominent music publishing firm Breitkopf & Härtel. This greatly enhanced Brahms’ prospects for a successful composing career. The following February, while still working on the trio, Brahms received the distressing news of Robert Schumann’s suicide attempt. He hastened back to Düsseldorf to comfort the Schumann family. It was under those dark circumstances that he completed the piece later that year. Perhaps this brush with tragedy associated with his mentor altered the emotional trajectory of the work, diverting it from its luminous B-major beginning and setting on the course towards its stormy B-minor conclusion. Toward the end of his life Brahms, now the most respected of living composers, changed music publishers. Fritz Simrock bought the rights to all of Brahms’ works from Breitkopf & Härtel for the purpose of publishing them in a new edition. Simrock offered Brahms the opportunity to revise some of his earliest works for the release of the new edition. Brahms, ever the perfectionist – he had burned his first twenty string quartets and postponed composing his first symphony until his mid-40s – decided to revisit his 35-year-old trio, Op. 8. After performing the new version in 1890, Brahms wrote to a friend, saying, “Do you still remember the B major trio from our early days, and wouldn’t you be curious to hear it now, as I have (instead of placing a wig on it!) taken the hair and combed and ordered it a bit…?” This was quite an understatement. In fact, he had shortened the overall length of the work by a third, substantially rewriting the middle sections of the first, third, and fourth movements. Only the Scherzo remained essentially unchanged from its original version. The final work seamlessly blends the impetuosity and passion of his youth with the technical assurance and architectural mastery of his maturity. The first movement begins like a cello sonata, unleashing a glorious cello melody that continues for 23 measures before it is finally joined by the violin. The atmosphere of the movement is wise and reassuring, demonstrating that, even at an early age, his musical sensibilities were already well-formed and recognizably “Brahmsian.” The Scherzo begins in a stealthily portentous B minor. Compressed staccato phrases are interwoven with longer thematic threads that foreshadow surprises ahead. Sudden fortissimo outbursts crash through the texture, dissolving into delicate piano filigree and quiet passagework in the strings. The contrasting trio introduces a melody of expansive warmth and maturity. The third movement alternates between solemn piano and string chorales, eventually blending the two into a sustained, meditative texture. The music then gives way to a long-lined, soulful cello solo. The solemn chorale textures return toward the end of the movement, now accompanied by ethereal ornaments in the right hand of the piano. The final movement is a musical battle between hope and despair. A quietly agitated opening explodes into major-key passages of great exuberance and exultation. Finally, though, the music retreats back into agitation and concern, and the trio concludes in a burst of stormy, B-minor turbulence. By Michael Parloff Return to Parlance Program Notes

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