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April 23, 2017: Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Warren Jones, piano GIOACHINO ROSSINI (1792–1868) Canzonetta spagnuola April 23, 2017: Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Warren Jones, piano By 1815 Rossini’s operas were being performed all over Italy, except in Naples, which had its own traditions. The shrewd impresario Domenica Barbaia, however, invited Rossini to compose for him and then to serve as artistic director of the San Carlo opera house in Naples, where he became a favored son, “reigning” from 1815 to 1822. Probably in 1821, toward the end of his time there, he composed his virtuosic Canzonetta spagnuiola (Little Spanish song), “En medio a mis colores” (Surrounded by my colors). He set three verses, separated by a refrain, with colorful Spanish/Gypsy flair. His oscillating ornaments are challenging to the singer and thrilling for the audience, and his Spanish/Gypsy style sounds prophetic of Bizet, whose “Gypsy Song” in Carmen with its similar after-beat accompaniment, ornaments, and acceleration bears a striking resemblance to Rossini’s dashing work. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Canzonetta spagnuola En medio a mis colores, ay, Pintando estaba un día, ay, Cuando la musa mía, ay, Me vino a tormentar, ay. Ay, con dolor pues dejo Empresa tan feliz Cual es de bella Nice Las prendas celebrar, ay. Quiso que yo pintase, ay, Objeto sobrehumano, ay, Pero lo quiso en vano, ay, Lo tuvo que dejar, ay. Ay, con dolor pues dejo, etc. Conoce la hermosura, ay, Un corazón vagado, ay, Mas su destin malvado, ay, Ie impide de cantar, ay. Ay, con dolor pues dejo, etc. —Anonymous Little Spanish Song Surrounded by my colors, ay, I was painting one day, ay, when my muse, ay, came to torment me, ay. With sorrow then I left my happy task of celebrating the charms of the beautiful Nice, ay. My muse asked me to paint, ay, a more spiritual subject, ay, but he asked in vain, ay, and he had to leave, ay. With sorrow then I left, etc. An inconstant heart, ay, may know beauty, ay, but its cruel destiny, ay prevents it from singing, ay. With sorrow then I left, etc. Return to Parlance Program Notes

October 30, 2016: Wu Han, piano; Philip Setzer, violin; David Finckel, cello LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Piano Trio in E-flat major, op. 1, no. 1 October 30, 2016: Wu Han, piano; Philip Setzer, violin; David Finckel, cello Beethoven carefully considered his presentation to the musical world of Vienna. Though he had composed quite a few works by 1795, he chose the three Trios that form Opus 1 as his first publication. He had been sponsored by Elector Maximilian Franz to move from his hometown of Bonn to Vienna at the end of 1792, to study with the great Joseph Haydn and to make his name in a musically more active world. Haydn was writing piano trios at that time, and though Beethoven probably had started work on his trios before he left Bonn, it was natural for him to work on them under the influence of his new teacher. When Haydn left for a sojourn in London in January 1794, Beethoven immediately began studies with Johann Albrechtsberger, which continued for fourteen months until Haydn’s return. A sketch for one of the movements of the G major Trio, op. 1, no. 2, was found among lessons Beethoven had done for Albrechtsberger. The Trios were performed privately in 1794 at the house of Prince Lichnowsky, the dedicatee of the Opus 1 Trios. Ferdinand Ries, later Beethoven’s pupil, reported many years after the fact that Haydn was among the distinguished guests in the audience and that the older composer had many nice things to say about the works, but advised against publishing the Third in C minor, saying the public would have difficulty understanding it. Ries also reported that Beethoven took this to be a sign of jealousy on Haydn’s part. It has been shown more recently that Ries’s account mixed up the chronology and that possible qualms Haydn may have had about the C minor Trio were raised upon his second return from London in 1795, after the Trios had already been published. In response to this and other accounts that Haydn was envious of the younger composer, esteemed musicologist James Webster wrote, “[I]t is inconceivable that the powerful and original genius of Haydn at the height of his powers should have had any difficulty with this work . . . or indeed any of Beethoven’s music of the 1790s, unless for reasons that reflect on Beethoven’s limitations rather than his own.” Furthermore, Webster demonstrated that no irreparable falling out between the two composers occurred in the 1790s, though they did experience a period of distrust between 1800 and 1804. Beethoven may have worked more on the Trios after the 1794 performance and perhaps other performances of them at Prince Lichnowsky’s. But his most likely reason for delaying their publication until 1795 was to build up a following—meaning a sufficient number of subscribers. Like the other Opus 1 Trios and the Opus 2 Piano Sonatas, Beethoven conceived of the E-flat major Trio in four movements, despite the custom of the day to compose chamber works with piano in three movements. Beethoven’s first public utterance, the first theme of the first movement, takes simple repeated chords and upward-rushing arpeggios and makes distinct motives out of them—short “building-block” kinds of motives that remained central to his mature style. Three quiet repeated chords begin the second theme, which stays within a narrow range in contrast to the more ebullient first theme. His sonata-form movement concludes with an extended coda, showing even in his early work the tendency toward substantial codas that begin almost as second development sections. The Adagio cantabile gently follows a rondo scheme as three presentations of the graceful main theme alternate with two contrasting episodes. Beethoven adds ornamental variants with each recurrence of the main theme and subtracts from its total length in the second appearance to make a more concise form. Beethoven wrote a scherzo instead of a minuet for the third movement of his Trio. Haydn had written minuets in fast enough tempos to be considered scherzos and even used the term Scherzo in his Opus 33 Quartets of 1781, but he was not writing scherzos in his piano trios or for that matter giving them a fourth movement. Beethoven’s sense of humor surfaces in the present Scherzo as it merrily begins in a key twice removed from the home key (the dominant of the dominant). The recurring little three-note motive with a grace note contributes to the section’s cheerful character. The Trio certainly changes character and texture, with long sustained notes in the strings supporting quiet legato figures in the piano. A striking leap of a tenth, heard three times, initiates the exuberant Presto Finale, which contains elements of both sonata and rondo form. The second theme, with its arpeggiated then stepwise descent, enters in each instrument in turn—violin, cello, piano, and again in the violin. Beethoven shows a little harmonic ingenuity late in the movement when this theme appears in E major before returning dramatically to the home key of E-flat. Just before the affirmative closing measures he has a bit of fun with his leaping motive. All in all the Trio makes a very assured as well as promising first opus. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

GREGORY ZUBER, PERCUSSION Gregory Zuber is principal percussionist with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, having joined the orchestra in 1986, and with its alter identities, the MET Orchestra and MET Chamber Ensemble. Prior to that, from 1985 to 1986, he was principal percussionist with the Toledo Symphony Orchestra. Zuber holds a Bachelor of Music degree from the University of Illinois where he studied with Tom Siwe, and a Master of Music degree from Temple University, studying with Alan Abel of the Philadelphia Orchestra. He also studied with James Ross of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Mr. Zuber attended the Interlochen Arts Academy and the National Music Camp at Interlochen. He has performed with the Philadelphia Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, and at the Tanglewood Music Festival, with the Colorado Philharmonic Orchestra, and the Civic Orchestra of Chicago. He can be heard on weekly international radio broadcasts, live from the Metropolitan Opera, as well as television broadcasts, and on many cd recordings and laser discs with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra and MET Orchestra on the Sony, Deutsche Grammophon, and EMI recording labels. With the orchestra, he has toured throughout the United States, Europe and Japan. Mr. Zuber is an active soloist, recitalist, composer, and clinician, and performs regularly with Percussionists of the Met and his wife, flutist Patricia Zuber. In addition to being on the faculty of the Bard College Conservatory of Music he is a faculty member of the Juilliard School and the UBS Verbier Music Festival. In October of 2002 he premiered Legend composed by Hseuh-Yung Shen, for solo percussionist and orchestra at Carnegie Hall with James Levine and the MET Orchestra.

YING FANG, SOPRANO Soprano Ying Fang has been hailed by the New York Times for her “pure and moving soprano, phrasing with scrupulous respect for the line and traveling with assurance through the mercurial moods,” as well as “singing with a fresh, appealing soprano and acting with coquettish flair.” She is blooming as a well-rounded singer. Ms. Fang has most recently performed Susanna in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro conducted by Gary Thor Wedow and directed by Stephen Wadsworth at The Juilliard School. She sang the title role in Gluck’s Iphigenie en Aulide conducted by Jane Glover. She sang The Dew Fairy in Hansel and Gretel, Barbarina in the season opening new production of Le Nozze di Figaro conducted by James Levine at the Metropolitan Opera. She has performed Cleopatra in Wolf Trap Opera Company’s 2014 production of Giulio Cesare. She has been featured in The Metropolitan Opera and The Juilliard School’s production of “A concert of comic operas” conducted by James Levine, in which she sang Konstanze, Teresa, and Adina. Ms. Fang made her Metropolitan Opera debut in their 2013–14 season, singing the role of Madame Podtochina’s Daughter in Shostakovich’s opera The Nose. The roles she performed include: Contessa di Folleville in Rossini’s Il Viaggio a Reims with Wolf Trap Opera Company, the title role in Mozart’s opera Zaide with the New World Symphony; Bellezza in Handel’s oratorio Il Trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno with the Juilliard 415 under the baton of William Christie at Alice Tully Hall. She was also heard in the role of Pamina in Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte with the Aspen Opera Theater Center, and gained acclaim: “Soprano Ying Fang sang Pamina with a creamy tone and marvelous specificity in each moment” (The Aspen Times). She also did Maria in Bernstein’s West Side Story with the Aspen Opera Theater Center. She made her Alice Tully Hall debut performing Handel’s motet Silete Venti with conductor Steven Fox leading the Juilliard 415. She sang the soprano solo in Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana with the National Symphony Orchestra at the Filene Center in Wolf Trap. In Juilliard opera productions, she has been featured as Zerlina in Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Fanny in Rossini’s La Cambiale di Matrimonio, and The Spirit of the Boy in Britten’s Curlew River. A native of Ningbo, China, Ms. Fang is the recipient of Martin E. Segal Award, Hildegard Behrens Foundation Award, The Rose Bampton Award of The Sullivan Foundation, The Opera Index Award of The 2013 Opera Index Vocal Competition and 1st Prize Award of 2013 Gerda Lissner International Vocal Competition. She won one of China’s most prestigious awards, the 2009 7th Chinese Golden Bell Award for Music. One of the youngest singers ever accorded this honor, she has been hailed as “the most gifted Chinese soprano of her generation” (Ningbo Daily). Ms. Fang holds a master’s degree from The Juilliard School and a bachelor’s degree from The Shanghai Conservatory of Music. She is a member of The Metropolitan Opera’s Lindemann Young Artist Development Program and The Artist Diploma in Opera Study program at Juilliard.

June 2, 2024: Mozart’s Double Concertos WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Sinfonia Concertante for Violin and Viola, K. 364 June 2, 2024: Mozart’s Double Concertos Scarcely anything is known about the circumstances surrounding the composition of Mozart’s glorious Sinfonia concertante for violin and viola. In the voluminous Mozart correspondence there is no mention of any impending occasion, soloists for whom it was written, or performances that took place. The work was almost certainly completed in the summer of 1779 while Mozart was in Salzburg, having recently returned from a trip to Mannheim and Paris. No dated autograph source survives for scholarly reference, only a sketch of part of the first movement and some cadenza material. Modern editions must rely principally upon the first edition published in 1801 by Johann André. Many have guessed that Mozart had himself in mind as the viola soloist. He had switched allegiance from the violin during this Salzburg period, much to his father Leopold’s chagrin. One can only be thankful that the circumstances did arise for Mozart to compose this glorious work, which the great Mozart scholar Alfred Einstein went so far as to call “Mozart’s crowning achievement in the field of the violin concerto.” Though the Sinfonia concertante is scored like many earlier concertos for strings with oboes and horns, the orchestral writing is much richer. There are many passages for divided violas, extensive separation of the cello and bass parts, and the inclusion of the soloists in the many of the orchestral tuttis (ensemble sections). Furthermore, Mozart originally required the solo viola to be tuned a half-step higher than normal, to give it a brightness that made it stand out from the orchestral violas. Thus, though the work is in E-flat, the solo viola part was notated in D major. (Nowadays, however, the violist often elects to perform the solo part without this scordatura, or unusual tuning.) Mozart’s use of the marking maestoso (majestic) was infrequent; it colors the whole sonority of the first movement. Other unusual features of this sonata form movement are the use of a long, thrilling crescendo known as a “Mannheim crescendo”—used by Mozart in the Figaro Overture but seldom elsewhere—and the eloquent semi-recitatives that open the development. The poignant slow movement is in the older sonata form in which the second part closely follows the material of the first, except for the traditional alterations in the harmonic scheme; this framework was closer to a binary than ternary form. Each successive antiphonal phrase of the soloists seems to outdo the previous in expressiveness. For his Presto finale Mozart employed a sonata rondo without a development—or if there is a development, it lasts only four measures after which an exact recapitulation begins. Here the soloists enter with the main theme in the subdominant, a rare device for Mozart, but one later favored by Schubert. This coupled with other unexpected events, such as the very first entrance of the soloists, contribute to an exhilarating movement rich in inventiveness. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

SUNDAY, APRIL 7, 2024 AT 4 PM JORDI SAVALL, VIOLA DA GAMBA AND CONDUCTOR HESPÈRION XXI (EARLY MUSIC ENSEMBLE) LE NUOVE MUSICHE THE BAROQUE REVOLUTION IN EUROPE (1560 - 1660) Jordi Savall , viola da gamba, conductor “If there were no Jordi Savall, we’d all live on a musically smaller planet.”— San Francisco Classical Voice Hespèrion XXI “The glorious ensemble sound of Hespèrion XXI featured period-instrument textures rendered with a delicacy and clarity sufficient to make a listener truly feel like a time traveler. — The New York Times ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS Jordi Savall and his legendary ensemble, Hespèrion XXI , will explore 100 years of musical history in a fascinating concert of music by early Baroque masters. For more than 50 years, Jordi Savall has rescued musical gems from the obscurity of neglect and oblivion and given them back for all to enjoy. A tireless advocate for early music, he interprets and performs the repertory both as a viola da gambist and a conductor. Savall founded the ancient music ensemble Hespèrion XXI in 1974 as a way of recovering and disseminating the rich and fascinating musical repertoire prior to the 19th century on the basis of historical criteria and the use of original instruments. Today the ensemble is central to the understanding of the music of the period between the Middle Ages and the Baroque. 2023-2024 SEASON October 15, 202 3 Lysander Piano Trio November 12, 2023 Angel Blue, soprano Bryan Wagorn, piano December 3, 2023 Brentano String Quartet Antioch Chamber Choir January 14, 2024 Goldmund String Quartet February 18, 2024 Candlelit Music of The Spirit March 10, 2024 Richard Goode, Piano Late Beethoven April 7, 2024 Jordi Savall, Conductor Hespèrion XXI May 12, 2024 Mothers Day Concert June 2, 2024 Mozart’s Double Concertos Artist Roster Parlance Program Notes LOCATION At West Side Presbyterian Church 6 South Monroe Street Ridgewood, NJ 07450 For map and directions, click here . CONCERT AMENITIES Whee lchair Accessible Fr e e Parking for all concerts FEATURING BUY TICKETS PROGRAM Le Nuove Musiche The Baroque Revolution in Europe (1560 - 1660) This program is approximately 75 Minutes in length Program Notes Vincenzo Ruffo (ca.1508-1587) Capricci in musica a tre voci (Milano, 1564) La Gamba – La Disperata – La Piva Emilio de’ Cavalieri (ca.1550-1602) Rappresentatione di Anima, et di Corpo (Roma, 1600) Sinfonia La Pellegrina: Intermedii et concerti (Siena, 1589) Ballo del Granduca Tobias Hume (ca.1569-1645) Captain Humes Poeticall Musicke (Londra, 1607) The Lady Sussex delight The Earle of Pembrookes Galiard Anonymous (England, ca.1610) Greensleeves to a Ground Samuel Scheidt (1587 - 1654) Ludi Musici (1621) Galliard Battaglia, SSWV 59 Girolamo Frescobaldi (1583 - 1643) Il primo libro delle canzoni (Rome, 1628) Canzon terza, a due canti, F 8.14c Andrea Falconiero (ca.1586-1656) Il primo libro di canzone (Naples, 1650) Ciaccona Juan García de Zéspedes (1619-1678) Guaracha Giovanni Girolamo Kapsberger (ca.1580 - 1651) Libro terzo d’intavolatura di chitarrone (Roma, 1626) Variations on the Folia Anonymous (Spain, ca.1660) Diferencias sobre la Folía Andrea Falconiero l primo libro di canzone (Naples, 1650) Passacalle Biagio Marini (1594-1663) Per ogni sorte di strumento musicale (Venice, 1655) Passacaglio Tarquino Merula (1595-1665) Canzoni overo sonate concertate per chiesa e camera (Venice, 1637) Chiaccona Antonio Valente (ca.1520-ca.1580) Intavolatura de cimbalo (Naples, 1576) Gallarda Napolitana Watch viola gambist Jordi Savall perform La Rêveuse: Les folies d’Espagne de Marin Marais: Watch Jordi Savall and Hespèrion XXI play an excerpt from Lachrimae Caravaggio: This program has been made possible in part by a grant administered by the Bergen County Department of Parks, Division of Cultural and Historic Affairs from funds granted by the New Jersey State Council on the Arts.

OSMO VÄNSKÄ, CLARINET Osmo Vänskä started his musical career as an orchestral clarinetist with the Turku Philharmonic (1971–76). He then became the principal clarinet of the Helsinki Philharmonic from 1977 to 1982. During this time, he started to study conducting with Jorma Panula at the Sibelius Academy, where his classmates included Esa-Pekka Salonen and Jukka-Pekka Saraste. In 1982, he won the Besançon Young Conductor’s Competition. Vänskä became principal guest conductor of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra in 1985, and chief conductor in 1988. He concluded his tenure with the Lahti Symphony Orchestra in 2008 and is now the orchestra’s Conductor Laureate. His complete set of Sibelius symphonies with the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, also on the BIS label, has garnered widespread acclaim. He has recorded extensively with his Lahti orchestra for the BIS label, including music of Kalevi Aho, Einojuhani Rautavaara, Bernhard Crusell, Uuno Klami, Tauno Marttinen, Robert Kajanus, Sofia Gubaidulina, Joonas Kokkonen, Jan Sandström, Jean Sibelius, and Fredrik Pacius. Vänskä was chief conductor of the Iceland Symphony Orchestra from 1993–1996. In 1996, he was appointed chief conductor of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra (BBCSSO), and served in that capacity until 2002. With the BBCSSO, he made recordings of the complete Carl Nielsen symphonies for the BIS label. In 2003, he became the music director of the Minnesota Orchestra. Vänskä and the orchestra have received critical praise, and he is generally regarded as having enhanced the quality of the orchestra. In May 2008, an orchestral piece composed by Vänskä titled “The Bridge” was premiered by the Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, led by William Schrickel, assistant-principal bassist of the Minnesota Orchestra. In January 2014 Vänskä and the Minnesota Orchestra won a Grammy for best orchestral performance for the album of Sibelius’ Symphonies Nos. 1 and 4.

February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797-1828) Viola, D. 786 Nacht und Träume, D. 827 February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano Schubert’s over 600 surviving songs span just seventeen years, from his student days at the Stadtkonvikt to the last weeks of his tragically short life. He raised the genre to one of central importance and his influence has never been surpassed. The present selection offers some of his beloved stand-alone songs—that is, those outside of his song cycles. Schubert composed “Viola” (a flower in the same family as the pansy and violet) in March of 1823 on a poem by his closest friend Franz von Schober, a charismatic dilettante whose lodgings he shared on various occasion after moving out of his parental home in 1817. Schober’s poem, subtitled “A Flower Ballad,” comprises nineteen verses, which Schubert groups in sections as a kind of through-composed mini-cantata. The song tells the metaphorical story of a lovesick, delicate flower, who hurries to greet Spring, the bridegroom, but wastes away before he arrives. Missing his “dearest child,” Spring has the other flowers search for her, but they find her lifeless. “Viola” is unified by Schubert’s musical treatment of the recurring poetic material of verses 1, 5, 14, and 19, in which the snowdrop is successively exhorted to ring in spring, awaken the flowers, send them to find the missing Viola, and finally to ring her requiem. Schubert creates a dramatic arc from beginning to end—from the quiet beginning of the first section that ends with the return of the refrain to a new more active “movement,” that dramatically tells Viola’s story, and from a new section that portrays the confidence of the other flowers, Spring’s arrival, and the bustling search to find Viola to the return of the quiet simplicity of the opening. Along the way Schubert shows his uncanny ability to respond to the nuances of the text through harmonic shifts, rhythmic adjustments, motivic relationships—and a virtuosic, descriptive piano accompaniment. “Nacht und Träume” (Night and dreams) is impossible to date precisely, but this quintessential Romantic song had to have been composed by June of 1823, when Schubert’s friend Josef von Spaun reported hearing it, and most likely stems from the winter of 1822–23 when Schubert made several settings of poems by Matthäus von Collin. It is touching to think that Schubert composed both this and “Viola” just as he was beginning to feel the ill effects of the syphillis that would claim his life several years later. The imagery of night and dreams was as essential to the Romantic aesthetic as yearning, unrequited love, death, and the supernatural. Collin’s brief poem inspired one of Schubert’s most slow-moving, serene contemplations—and one of his most challenging for the singer, who must sustain its lines at a pianissimo dynamic throughout. He creates a fascinating two-part structure in which each part begins with different music but ends with a musical “rhyme”—lines 2, 3, and 4 corresponding musically with lines 7, 8, and repeat of 8. Throughout the piano maintains a soothing rocking motion with a gorgeous harmonic shift at the outset of the second part to set up the image of dreams eavesdropping with pleasure. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Viola Schneeglöcklein, o Schneeglöcklein! In den Auen läutest du, Läutest in dem stillen Hain, Läute immer, läute zu! Denn du kündest frohe Zeit, Frühling naht, der Bräutigam, Kommt mit Sieg vom Winterstreit, Dem er seine Eiswehr nahm. Darum schwingt der goldne Stift, Daß dein Silberhelm erschallt, Und dein liebliches Gedüft Leis’, wie Schmeichelruf entwallt: Daß die Blumen in der Erd Steigen aus dem düstern Nest Und des Bräutigams sich werth Schmücken zu dem Hochzeitfest. Schneeglöcklein, o Schneeglöcklein! In den Auen läutest du, Läutest in dem stillen Hain, Läut’ die Blumen aus der Ruh! Du Viola, zartes Kind, Hörst zuerst den Wonnelaut, Und sie stehet auf geschwind, Schmücket sorglich sich als Braut. Hüllet sich ins grüne Kleid, Nimmt den Mantel sammetblau, Nimmt das güldene Geschmeid, Und den Brilliantenthau. Eilt dann fort mit mächt’gem Schritt, Nur den Freund im treuen Sinn, Ganz von Liebesglut durchglüht, Sieht nicht her und sieht nicht hin. Doch ein ängstliches Gefühl Ihre kleine Brust durchwallt, Denn es ist noch rings so still Und die Lüfte weh’n so kalt. Und sie hemmt den schnellen Lauf, Schon bestrahlt von Sonnenschein, Doch mit Schrecken blickt sie auf,— Denn sie stehet ganz allein. Schwestern nicht—nicht Bräutigam— Zugedrungen! und verschmäht!— Da durchschauert sie die Schaam, Fliehet wie vom Sturm geweht, Fliehet an den fernsten Ort, Wo sie Gras und Schatten deckt, Späht und lauschet immerfort: Ob was rauschet und sich regt. Und gekränket und getäuscht Sitzet sie und schluchzt und weint; Von der tiefsten Angst zerfleischt, Ob kein Nahender sich zeigt.— Schneeglöcklein, o Schneeglöcklein! In den Auen läutest du, Läutest in dem stillen Hain, Läut die Schwestern ihr herzu!— Rose nahet, Lilie schwankt, Tulp und Hyacinthe schwellt, Windling kommt daher gerankt, Und Narciß hat sich gesellt. Da der Frühling nun erscheint Und das frohe Fest beginnt, Sieht er alle die vereint, Und vermißt sein liebstes Kind. Alle schickt er suchend fort Um die Eine, die ihm werth. Und sie kommen an den Ort, Wo sie einsam sich verzehrt.— Doch es sitzt das liebe Kind Stumm und bleich, das Haupt gebückt— Ach! der Lieb und Sehnsucht Schmerz Hat die Zärtliche erdrückt. Schneeglöcklein, o Schneeglöcklein! In den Auen läutest du, Läutest in dem stillen Hain, Läut, Viola, sanfte Ruh! —Franz von Schober Viola Snowdrop, O snowdrop! you ring in the meadows, you ring in the quiet grove, ring always, ring out! For you herald a happy time, spring, the bridegroom, nears, comes victorious from the battle with winter, whose icy weapons he took away. So your golden clapper swings, so that your silvery helmet resounds, and your lovely scent quietly, like a flattering call flows forth: That the flowers in the earth rise from their dark nest and worthy of the bridegroom dress for the wedding feast. Snowdrop, O snowdrop! you ring in the meadows, you ring in the quiet grove, ring the flowers out of their sleep! You field pansy, tender child, hear the blissful sound first, and she gets up quickly, and dresses carefully as a bride. She wraps herself in a green dress, dons a velvety blue coat, dons her golden jewelry and dewy diamonds. She hurries forth with mighty step, only to her friend in the true sense, completely glowing with love’s warmth, she looks neither to one side nor the other. But an anxious feeling flows through her little breast, for it is so quiet all around and the breezes blow so coldly. And she halts her fast running, already shone upon by the sun, but with terror she looks up, for she is standing all alone. No sisters, no bridegroom, she has been too forward! and been spurned! Then shame shudders through her, she flees as if blown by a storm. She flees to the most distant place, where grass and shadows cover her, she always looks and listens: to see whether anything rustles or moves. And hurt and deceived she sits and sobs and weeps; torn apart by the deepest fear, that nobody will appear. Snowdrop, O snowdrop! you ring in the meadows, you ring in the quiet grove, ring so that her sisters come to her! The rose nears, the lily sways, the tulip and the hyacinth swell, the bindweed comes twining around, and the narcissus has joined in. Now that spring appears and the happy festival begins, he sees all who are united, and he misses his dearest child. He sends everyone off to search for the one who is dear to him, and they come to the place where she pines away alone. But the dear child sits mute and pale, her head bowed. Ah! the pain of love and longing has crushed the tender one. Snowdrop, O snowdrop! you ring in the meadows, you ring in the quiet grove, ring, for the field pansy, gentle rest! Nacht und Träume Heil’ge Nacht, du sinkest nieder; Nieder wallen auch die Träume, Wie dein Mondlicht durch die Räume, Durch der Menschen stille Brust. Die belauschen sie mit Lust; Rufen, wenn der Tag erwacht: Kehre wieder, heil’ge Nacht! Holde Träume, kehret wieder! —Matthäus von Collin Night and Dreams Holy night, you sink down; dreams also float down, like moonlight through spaces, through the silent breasts of men. They eavesdrop on them with pleasure; they call when day awakes: Come back, holy night! Sweet dreams, come back! Return to Parlance Program Notes

October 30, 2022: EMERSON STRING QUARTET DMITRI SHOSTAKOVICH (1906–1975) String Quartet No. 12 in D-flat, Op. 133 October 30, 2022: EMERSON STRING QUARTET Toward the end of his life, Shostakovich was beset by multiple health problems—loss of feeling and mobility in his limbs, a heart attack, a broken ankle—all of which brought his performing career to an end and curtailed many of his civic activities. With sadly more time on his hands, lengthy hospital stays, and deaths of people in his circle, he began thinking more about his own mortality. Many of his late works—the vocal cycles, Symphony No. 14, and the last four string quartets—reflect this preoccupation by plumbing new depths. While living at the Composers’ Union retreat at Repino, Shostakovich wrote to his friend Isaak Glikman on March 9, 1968, that he constantly feared he would die and leave whatever piece he was working on incomplete. Just two days later he finished his String Quartet No. 12 in D-flat major and wrote to the first violinist of the Beethoven Quartet, Dmitry Tsïganov, whose birthday was March 12, asking him to accept the dedication. Two years earlier he had dedicated his Eleventh Quartet to the memory of Vasily Shirinsky, second violinist of the Quartet until his death in 1965, and thus Shostakovich was continuing his plan of writing a quartet for each member of the group that had premiered most of his quartets. Shostakovich was quite pleased with the work, reportedly answering Tsïganov’s question about whether it was “chamber” in its proportions by saying, “No, no—it’s a symphony, a symphony.” The Beethoven Quartet gave the private premiere on June 14, 1968, at the first creative convocation of the new secretariat of the Russian Composers’ Union. Shostakovich commented on the magnificence of the performance, and the favorable reaction of musicians in attendance made its way into the press in advance of the public premiere in Moscow on September 14. The audience at both performances recognized a newness of form and language in the Twelfth Quartet, in particular its reliance on twelve-tone themes. Though Shostakovich was well-aware of the avant-garde tendencies of his younger colleagues and had occasionally incorporated twelve-tone rows himself, he was now using them in a new way to suit his own purposes. He described his approach to twelve-tone writing in a remarkable encapsulation of his ideals just before the private premiere: As far as the use of strictly technical devices from such musical “systems” as dodecaphony or aleatory is concerned . . . everything in good measure. If, let’s say, a composer sets himself the obligatory task of writing dodecaphonic music, then he artificially limits his possibilities, his ideas. The use of elements from these complex systems is fully justified if it is dictated by the concept of the composition. . . . You know, to a certain extent I think the formula “the end justifies the means” is valid in music. All means? All of them, if they contribute to the end objective. What makes Shostakovich’s use of twelve-tone material in the Twelfth Quartet so fascinating is the way in which he juxtaposes it with the work’s tonal anchor of D-flat major. One might expect the twelve-tone writing to sound antagonistic and be settled by the reassurance of tonality, but Shostakovich’s D-flat major passages seem instead to explore other realms that are at times anguished, brutal, or drained of enjoyment. Laid out unconventionally in two movements with the second much longer than the first, the work opens with a wandering twelve-tone gesture in the cello, which is treated along with other dodecaphic fragments as a delineating device rather according to the “rules” of serial technique. The answering, low-register D-flat music with its oscillating rising patterns sounds sorrowfully contemplative and searching. Another twelve-tone utterance, now in the first violin, brings on a kind of waltz that is far-removed from a glittering social occasion, and yet another twelve-tone fragment introduces an idea characterized by staccato repeated notes. These ideas become joined or layered in myriad ingenious ways with the twelve-tone interjections serving as points of departure. The hushed, fragmented ending still seems in search of closure despite its D-flat fade-out. The huge second movement takes on the symphonic proportions and sonorities Shostakovich suggested in his remarks to Tsïganov. He rolls several movement-like sections into one, beginning with an almost savage mixed-meter “scherzo” that is pierced by individual trills and a jabbing melodic idea begun by the cello. Eventually the tumult dies away with a somber cello recitative that initiates a “slow movement” (Adagio) comprised of funereal chanting juxtaposed with searing melodic lines of great pathos. A striking, insistent pizzicato solo by the first violin based on first-movement figures launches a remarkable section that further develops materials from the entire work. Shostakovich combines motives and textures from the scherzo and the Adagio, and at a climactic point has the lower strings play dense pizzicato chords containing all twelve pitches. A brief revisiting of the Adagio’s sustained pathos brings a return to the first movement’s contemplative sorrow as if “ending with the beginning.” Shostakovich has more to say, however, and revs up the music of the “scherzo” to drive relentlessly to the conclusion. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

February 20, 2022 – Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violin AMY BARLOWE Hebraique Elegie for two violins February 20, 2022 – Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violin Daughter of acclaimed natural history artists Dorothea and Sy Barlowe, Amy Barlowe began playing viola in elementary school, but she really wanted to play violin. Her parents found her a local teacher and she was good enough to play very difficult repertoire even if her technique was unconventional. In high school she worked her way from the back of the second violins to concertmaster, but she needed a good teacher. The great Ivan Galamian accepted her after some “reconstruction work” with Margaret Pardee, and she won admission to the Juilliard School where she earned both bachelor’s and master’s degrees. Barlowe’s playing career blossomed with acclaimed solo and chamber music concerts across the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. She toured the Northwest with the Oregon Trio and she performed and recorded with her husband, Alan Bodman, as Duo [AB]2 (AB squared). She has also taught extensively—at Willamette University, Juilliard Pre-College, New York’s School for Strings, and the Ohio Conservatory, as well as during summers at the Estherwood and Bowdoin Summer Music Festivals and—for over twenty-five years—the Meadowmount Music School. The death of her father in 2000 gave the impetus for her to begin composing, and two years later, with the onset of an incurable tremor, composition became a more frequent outlet for her energy. She did develop techniques so she could still play the violin, but with the curtailment of her solo career, she realized “that the impending void could be filled if I were to become more creative than re-creative. If I were to write music that I envisioned, it would be another form of ‘world-building’ that I could explore for the rest of my life.” Barlowe’s compositions and arrangements include many works for two violins and piano, solo violin, two Requiems—Aeternum in memory of her father and a Requiem for soprano and orchestra—and 12 Etudes in the Style of the Great Performers, which has won worldwide acclaim. Her arrangement of John Williams’s Theme from Schindler’s List for two violins or violin and viola with orchestra or piano won the endorsement of the composer. More recently The Peace of Wild Things was premiered in June 2019 by Akron Baroque, a chamber orchestra founded by Barlowe in 2006 in which she plays assistant concertmaster to her husband. On the same concert he premiered her Sicliano, written as the middle movement of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 for which he left just two chords on which creative performers were meant to improvise. Even more recently, in October 2021, Barlowe’s Epitaph for viola and soprano was premiered at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. Barlowe composed her Hebraique Elegie in 2001 in memory of her father and has often performed it with her husband to great accalim. The piece has also received a number of performances by today’s violinists, Paul Huang and Danbi Um. Barlow has also arranged it for two violas and for solo violin. She writes: “There is something about the history of the Jewish people, their struggle for survival, their innate ability to buoy themselves from the depths of tragedy through the use of humor, that has always fascinated me. The Hebraique Elegie was born of the desire to find a home for the emotions I experienced at the passing of my father. The hypnotic dance at its core is a sweet reminiscence of dancing with my father at Bar Mitzvahs, while a very little girl, first with my feet atop his polished black shoes; then on my own. From the lonely, chant-like cadenza at its opening, to reflection and reluctant acceptance at its close, the Hebraique Elegie is a lament expressing the irony and juxtaposition of joy and suffering; the struggle with the inevitable.” © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 19, 2017: Alessio Bax, piano; Lucille Chung, piano WITOLD LUTOSLAWSKI (1913-1994) Variations on a Theme of Paganini for two pianos December 19, 2017: Alessio Bax, piano; Lucille Chung, piano After Stalin’s death in 1953, Witold Lutosławski, along with Krzysztof Penderecki, led Polish composers in a great renaissance, bringing recognition to Polish music that had been lacking since the days of Chopin. Lutosławski had concurrently studied composition at the Warsaw Conservatory and mathematics at the University of Warsaw. In the 1960s he became internationally known as a conductor of his own works and taught and lectured on composition in Europe and the United States. Lutosławski’s style went through many stages—a folk music stage greatly influenced by Bartók, a twelve-tone phase, and a period in which he developed his own system that permitted him, he said, “to move within the scope of twelve tones, outside both the tonal system and conventional dodecaphony.” In the 1960s he became interested in aleatory techniques to enhance textural effects, not, as he said, “to free myself of part of my responsibility for the work by transferring it to the players,” but to achieve “a particular result in sound.” His exceptional attention to structure and detail and his careful working methods resulted in long periods of revision and polishing for most works—ten years in the case of the Third Symphony. His list of works, therefore, is relatively short, but each is of consistently high quality. During the Second World War, Lutosławski played piano in cafés (kawiarnie ) in order to make a living and as a means of public expression. He sometimes accompanied other artists and often performed together with composer and conductor Andrzej Panufnik in a duo piano team. Their concerts included light and serious music of all periods from Bach to Debussy, in arrangements on which he and Panufnik had collaborated. More than 200 of these arrangements were destroyed in the Warsaw Uprising, but one survived, the Wariacje na temat Paganiniego (Variations on a theme of Paganini), an arrangement by Lutosławski alone, which he published after the war. As in all their arrangements, one part was harder than the other, because Lutosławski was a better pianist than Panufnik; Lutosławski took the first piano part in the present arrangement. The Paganini theme is the famous one from the twenty-fourth Caprice for solo violin, which Paganini himself was the first to vary, and which has since attracted numerous composers, such as Schumann, Liszt, Brahms, Rachmaninoff, Blacher, Ginastera, Rochberg, and popular composers John Dankworth and Andrew Lloyd Webber. But where the most famous of these works—the Brahms and Rachmaninoff—present original variations on the theme, Lutosławski’s follows Paganini’s model closely; that is, Lutosławski “transcribed” Paganini’s variations. That is not to say Lutosławski’s Variations sound like products of the Romantic era—instead he used great imagination and twentieth-century vocabulary in transferring the violinistic passages to two pianos. The rapid string crossings in the second variation, for example, become rapidly alternating chromatically neighboring chords, and the thirds and tenths in the sixth variation are treated in canon and inversion with widely spaced triads in the first piano and octaves a third apart in the second piano. Though Lutosławski keeps the piece grounded in A minor, he introduces striking harmonic deviations, juxtapositions, and superimpositions. The first half of the second half of the theme, for example, begins in A major in the first piano while the second piano begins in E-flat, a tritone away. Lutosławski decided to trade Paganini’s arpeggiated conclusion for a brilliant, elaborate restatement of the theme—amounting to another variation—which is capped by a coda that increases in volume and speed to the end. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Trio Sonata in E Minor, BWV 528 December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ In Leipzig, where Bach served as Kantor of the Thomasschule, teaching was a huge part of his life, and his own sons were some of his very best pupils. Sometime between 1727 and 1730 he composed a set of organ sonatas, BWV 525–530, as a teaching tool for his son Wilhelm Friedemann, who became one of the finest organists of his day. What set these sonatas apart from Bach’s other organ works was their configuration as trio sonatas, in which he assigned one instrumental part to the right hand on one of the organ’s manuals, one to the left on another manual, and the bass part to the feet on the pedals. This configuration led to a lightness and clarity of texture not present in many of his other organ works. He may have also had in mind the forward-looking tastes of Wilhelm Friedemann when he occasionally slipped into a galant, more modern style, such as in the triplet motion of the E minor Sonata’s last movement. In general structure, these six sonatas rely more on concerto form in three movements (fast, slow, fast) than on four-movement sonata models. Because the three individual lines function as in a trio sonata—and because in typical fashion Bach borrowed some of the movements from earlier works and refashioned some into later pieces—the urge for arrangers to transcribe them for myriad combinations of two of more instruments has proved irresistible. In the case of the present Sonata in E minor, Bach borrowed the first movement from the Sinfonia that opens the second half of Cantata 76: “Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes” (1723), which was scored for oboe d’amore (mezzo-soprano oboe with a bulb bell), viola da gamba (viol held between the legs), and continuo (bass line to be realized by a keyboard player). Thus it makes perfect sense for the entire organ sonata to have been arranged for this combination of instruments, as in the present performance. The first movement of the E minor Sonata movement is unusual and striking in that it begins with a brief Adagio introduction that leads without pause into a high-spirited Vivace. The extremely concise ritornello form of the Vivace is also extraordinary, consisting of a ritornello (recurring section) that appears three times, whose imitative subject is immediately followed by a brief imitative answer, but the last of these answers turns into an episode full of derived figures that lasts the remaining third of the movement before being capped by a cadential phrase. The movement is also unusual for its focus on the viola da gamba line to begin the Vivace, and also for the sheer buoyancy of all three lines, the bass line of which is more elaborate here than in the Cantata. The lovely middle movement exists in an early form in D minor, known from three sources, but since those copies were made after 1750 from a now lost source it is difficult to determine the instrumentation or key of the original. (Pieter Dirksen in his “reconstruction” for oboe d’amore, viola da gamba, and continuo suggests that the lost source may have dated from as early as ca.1714 when Bach was in Weimar.) Sources aside, the beautiful main theme is remarkable for its constant emphasis on two-bar phrase lengths, which Bach maintains even in the sequencing material that follows. These two types of music alternate, A-B-A-B, before Bach brings back the opening in stretto (closer together entries) and adds a final cadence. Bach configures the lively third movement as a rondo fugue, its subject alternating with sequential episodes. The irrepressible triplet figure, introduced only briefly in the subject’s third bar, soon becomes the merry propulsive force of the entire perpetual motion movement. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes