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

DAVID J. GROSSMAN, DOUBLE BASS Double bassist and composer David J. Grossman enjoys a multifaceted musical career on both the East and West Coasts — as a bassist in the New York Philharmonic (having joined in spring 2000 as its youngest member) and as newly appointed principal bass of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. As a soloist and clinician, Mr. Grossman has given recitals and master classes at prestigious venues and music schools across the country, including the Boston Conservatory, Yale School of Music, Manhattan School of Music, The Hartt School, Penn State University, and the New York Summer Music Festival. He has released two albums — one classical and one jazz — titled The Bass of Both Worlds, available at davidjgrossman.com. Mr. Grossman is also an ardent educator. He is as a member of the double bass faculty of the Manhattan School of Music, and he joined the Mannes School of Music faculty in fall 2017. Also a passionate chamber musician, he performs in the New York Philharmonic Ensembles series at Merkin Concert Hall and has appeared at 92nd Street Y and with The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. In the field of jazz, Mr. Grossman was a member of the Marcus Roberts Trio and has performed with Wynton Marsalis, among many others. As a composer, David J. Grossman’s compositions include Mood Swings for trombone and double bass, written for New York Philharmonic Principal Trombone Joseph Alessi; Fantasy on “Shall We Gather at the River?”, available on former New York Philharmonic English Horn Thomas Stacy’s recording Plaintive Melody; and two early compositions, Swing Quartet and String Quintet No. 1, which were premiered by The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center.

October 30, 2022: EMERSON STRING QUARTET JOSEPH HAYDN (1732-1809) String Quartet in G, Op. 33, No. 5 October 30, 2022: EMERSON STRING QUARTET Haydn composed his six Opus 33 Quartets in 1781, nine years after his previous set of six, op. 20. A debate has raged for over a century about whether Haydn marked the attainment of perfect Classic Viennese style with these new quartets when he noted to possible buyers they were written “in a new and special way.” The latest thinking is that “new and special” was a phrase designed to sell works rather than a statement about arriving at the perfection of Classical style, since that would ignore the merits of the Opus 20 Quartets, the symphonies written around 1772, or, as scholar Robbins Landon suggests, the opera L’infideltà delusa or the Missa Cellensis of 1782. What scholars and listeners do agree on is that there is something different about the Opus 33 Quartets, chiefly a tendency toward popular, folklike expression and outwardly simple structures that hide an inner complexity—and, yes, they include a remarkable profusion of Classic stylistic elements whether or not they represent a turning point. Commentators have speculated, with the usual cautionary asides about art and life circumstances, that the lightness and humor of these Quartets were linked to Haydn’s personal happiness at this time—the beginning of his affair with singer Luigia Polzelli, hired by Prince Esterházy in 1779. Both were in unhappy marriages at the time and she became Haydn’s mistress by 1781. Over a decade later he was writing her from London: “Perhaps I shall never again regain the good humor that I used to have when I was with you.” Some of Haydn’s greatest wit and lightheartedness lies in the Opus 33 finales, which move away from sonata form or the contrapuntal complexity of fugues in favor of rondos or variation forms. On the other hand, and no doubt for balance, these works show more profundity in their slow movements. As to his “Scherzo” and “Scherzando” movements, though they are the first in his quartets to be so-designated instead of “Minuet,” they actually differ little from his previous minuets. Thus the aptness of the sometime nickname “Gli scherzi” (with scherzos) for the Opus 33 Quartets applies not so much to these movements as to the entire set’s many “jokes”—the literal Italian meaning of scherzi. Haydn first published the Opus 33 Quartets in 1782 with no dedication, but added one to Grand Duke Paul of Russia with the second edition of 1796, which led to their most common nickname “Russian.” This belated dedication had to do with the fact that most, if not all, received their first performance at the Vienna home of the Duke’s wife, Grand Duchess Maria Feodorovna, on Christmas Day, 1781. The Opus 33 Quartets gained instant popularity, so much so that fraud was immediately detected when a composer from Mainz tried to pass them off as his own. Haydn begins the G major Quartet—likely the first in order of composition—with a quiet, graceful “curtsey” or “bow” in a rhythm that prompted the English mid-nineteenth-century nickname “How do you do.” Many commentators have seen its cadential gesture as a supreme example of his wit—an ending as a beginning. The immediate contrast of the rhythmic main theme with its bold, repeating bass notes sets the stage for an almost symphonic movement in which Haydn often thickens the texture with double stops. Unlike the monothematic tendencies in many of the other sonata-form movements of the Russian Quartets, Haydn’s second theme introduces a lyrical idea over a cello pedal. In his development section he takes apart and recombines his thematic fragments with creative resolve, and his recapitulation expands into what approaches a second development. The slow movement unfolds in a tragic mood with the first violin “singing” an aria-like lament over individualistic accompaniment lines by the other three instruments. Many commentators have noted that Haydn may have been influenced by Orfeo’s “Che puro ciel” from Gluck’s opera Orfeo e Euridice, which he had directed at Esterhazá in 1776. The four instruments finally come together at the end in a forceful unison phrase, capped by a unison pizzicato that has elicited much speculation about whether it can fit the somber mood or should be heard as Haydenesque humor. Haydn certainly makes jokes in the third movement, taking the Italian term “scherzo” in its literal meaning. He teases the listener with meter-busting displacements and shows supreme comic timing when, just after seeming to get on track, he inserts a bar of rest. The graceful regularity of the trio provides tongue-in-cheek foil. The Finale, marked Allegretto, unfolds as an easy-going siciliano theme with three variations. The decoration increases in the third variation, first for the viola then the cello, and Haydn caps the movement with a presto coda that gallops toward the finish—but not without some final soft-loud playfulness. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

September 24, 2017: Rafael Figueroa, cello GASPAR CASSADÓ (1897-1966) Sardana and Jota from Suite for Solo Cello September 24, 2017: Rafael Figueroa, cello Young prodigy Gaspar Cassadó began his music training early with his organist-composer father. The family moved to Paris to insure the best teachers—the great Jacques Thibaud for his violinist brother and Casals for him. Casals’s playing and mentoring left an indelible impression on the young Gaspar, who became acquainted with all the leading musicians in Paris—he also studied composition with Ravel and Falla. Influenced by his mentor’s legendary performances of the Bach solo cello suites, Cassadó composed one of his own in 1926, successfully transferring the idea of Bach’s stylized Baroque dances to dance forms of his own Spanish heritage. The Sardana, reflecting the national Catalonian circle dance, unfolds in two parts: slow and stately (dancer holding hands with arms down) and fast and exuberant (arms up). The final movement alternates an introspective Intermezzo with a lively triple-meter Jota, which evokes the guitars and castanets of the dance’s northern Spanish roots. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

September 26, 2021: Arnaud Sussmann, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Nathan Melzer, violin; Kevin Zhu, violin; James Thompson, violin; Jeanelle Brierley, violin; Oliver Neubauer, violin; Clara Neubauer, viola; Paul Neubauer, viola; Isabella Bignasca, viola; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; David J. Grossman, bass; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord ANTONIO VIVALDI (1678-1741) Il cimento dell’armonia e dell’inventione, op. 8, nos. 1–4, “The Four Seasons” September 26, 2021: Arnaud Sussmann, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Nathan Melzer, violin; Kevin Zhu, violin; James Thompson, violin; Jeanelle Brierley, violin; Oliver Neubauer, violin; Clara Neubauer, viola; Paul Neubauer, viola; Isabella Bignasca, viola; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; David J. Grossman, bass; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord September 26, 2021: Arnaud Sussmann, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Nathan Melzer, violin; Kevin Zhu, violin; James Thompson, violin; Jeanelle Brierley, violin; Oliver Neubauer, violin; Clara Neubauer, viola; Paul Neubauer, viola; Isabella Bignasca, viola; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; David J. Grossman, bass; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord Vivaldi’s greatness as a composer lay in his extraordinary mastery of instrumental forms and orchestration. An accomplished violinist, he also trained for the priesthood, taking his Holy Orders in 1703; he was dubbed “the red priest” because of his striking hair color. For much of his career he worked at the Pio Ospedale Pietà, an orphanage and famous conservatory for girls in Venice. Many of his instrumental works, including most of his 500 concertos, were written for his students there. He also traveled throughout Italy in connection with the presentation of his operas, and for a time around 1718–20 he was employed as court music director in Mantua. We know from Vivaldi’s own preface that he composed The Four Seasons long before their publication in 1725, but the precise date and place of composition may forever elude us. Possibly composed as early as 1716, these concertos appeared as the first of twelve making up his Opus 8 collection, which he dedicated to music-loving Bohemian Count Morzin. Vivaldi’s preface implies that he knew the count’s “virtuoso orchestra”—had the composer visited Prague? The Four Seasons spread Vivaldi’s fame far and wide in his own lifetime. Would he have been surprised to find that these concertos later achieved such ultra-popularity as to be played as restaurant background music, in television commercials, and for movie soundtracks? Though he might have been irritated at some of these applications, he might have been intrigued that their use in Alan Alda’s film The Four Seasons and on the Weather Channel actually relates to one of their most salient attributes—that of being program music, or music that tells a story. On the most basic level these works give a musical representation of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. But what makes them so innovative and memorable is the vividness and detail of Vivaldi’s programmatic description. The concertos were prefaced by four “explanatory sonnets”—presumably written by the composer—whose verses refer to points in the score through a system of keyed letters (see below). Reading the poetry in sync with the music illuminates what the images are, but it is the remarkable music with its myriad nuanced references to mankind’s relationship with nature that shows the height of Vivaldi’s artistry. As a fascinating aside, Vivaldi’s sonnets recently helped paleo-ecologist/climatologist Ulla Kokfelt, who was working on climatic reconstructions from Venice and Po just following the “late maunder minimum” period (1675–1715, the culmination of a “little ice age”). She was able to draw certain conclusions because of the sonnets’ specificity and the fact that the concertos were probably written well before 1725. * * * One of Vivaldi’s great achievements was establishing the three-movement norm for the concerto. For the outer fast movements he often used ritornello form, in which periodic returns of thematic material alternate with contrasting episodes. His programs for the Four Seasons, while occasionally shaping the form, more often fit admirably into his characteristic concerto models. Vivaldi found ritornello form perfect for depicting the sonnets’ contrasting images in the fast movements, and the slow movements particularly apt for setting the mood of an entire scene or succession of scenes. Of the myriad glorious depictions in these concertos, we might single out the picturesque bird calls in the first movement of Spring, which are interrupted by a dramatic squall, or the slow movement’s exquisite sleepy mood, which is punctuated by the faithful dog “barking” in the viola part. The burning dryness of Summer’s opening contrasts so vividly with the cuckoo’s outbreak, as do the gentle breezes with the intrusion of the north wind. The anticipation of a storm builds ingeniously in the slow movement and the tempest’s fury in the final movement is truly impressive. In Autumn’s opening movement Vivaldi cleverly intersperses the ritornello refrain of the dancing country-folk with the colorful episodes of the bacchanal, brilliantly enacted by the solo violin with solo cello, and the atmospheric slumbering represented by the solo violin accompanied only by the pulsing of the ensemble violins. The muted slow movement traditionally gives the keyboard player a chance to improvise, while the closing movement contrasts the ritornello refrains representing the riding hunters with an episode of horn calls, another of the wounded prey, and finally of the animal’s death. Vivaldi’s depictions of shivering and of icy winds, of stamping feet and of chattering teeth are truly miraculous in Winter’s first movement. The slow movement’s peace by the fireside is shattered by the return of icy images in the finale. The Concerto and the entire cycle come to one of music’s most rousing conclusions as the howling winds wage war. © 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

RICHARD GOODE, PIANO Richard Goode has been hailed for music-making of tremendous emotional power, depth, and expressiveness, and has been acknowledged worldwide as one of today’s leading interpreters of Classical and Romantic music. In regular performances with the major orchestras, recitals in the world’s music capitals, and through his extensive and acclaimed Nonesuch recordings, he has won a large and devoted following. Gramophone magazine recently captured the essence of what makes Richard Goode such an original and compelling artist: ‘‘Every time we hear him, he impresses us as better than we remembered, surprising us, surpassing our expectations, and communicating perceptions that stay in the mind.” Mr. Goode began his 2014–2015 season performing Mozart’s Concerto in A major (K.488) to open Lincoln Center’s Mostly Mozart Festival. He was featured in five appearances at Carnegie Hall, including a recital in the main hall, as a soloist with the Boston Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Andris Nelsons, in two chamber music concerts with young artists from Marlboro Music Festival and conducting a master class on Debussy piano works. He appeared as soloist with orchestras including the Los Angeles Philharmonic, St. Louis, Milwaukee, and San Diego Symphonies. In addition, this season includes recitals at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, Wigmore Hall in London, the Celebrity Series of Boston, Cal Performances in Berkeley, the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society, the University Musical Society in Ann Arbor, at Shriver Hall in Baltimore, in Toronto at the Royal Conservatory, at The Schubert Club in St. Paul, Spivey Hall in Atlanta, Yale School of Music, Dartmouth College, Duke Performances, Middlebury College, and in other major series in the U.S. and Europe. In addition, Mr. Goode will present master classes at top conservatories and universities around the world. In the 2013–2014 season, Mr. Goode appeared as soloist with such orchestras as the New York Philharmonic with David Zinman, the Chicago Symphony with Mark Elder, the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin with Herbert Blomstedt, and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra with Peter Oundjian, with whom he also appeared in Toronto, Ottawa, and Montreal with the Toronto Symphony. His always compelling recitals were heard at Carnegie Hall in New York, in London, in Paris, at the Aldeburgh Festival, and on leading concert and university series around the world. Among the highlights of recent seasons have been the recitals in which, for the first time in his career, Mr. Goode performed the last three Beethoven Sonatas in one program, drawing capacity audiences and raves in such cities as New York, London, and Berlin. The New York Times, in reviewing his Carnegie Hall performance, hailed his interpretations as “majestic, profound readings…. Mr. Goode’s playing throughout was organic and inspired, the noble, introspective themes unfolding with a simplicity that rendered them all the more moving.” Recent seasons have also included performances with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra led by Fabio Luisi at Carnegie Hall; with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and Gustavo Dudamel; with Orpheus on tour and at Carnegie Hall playing the Schumann Concerto; and on tour with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. An exclusive Nonesuch recording artist, Goode has made more than two dozen recordings over the years, ranging from solo and chamber works to lieder and concertos. His latest recording of the five Beethoven concertos with the Budapest Festival Orchestra and Iván Fischer was released in 2009 to exceptional critical acclaim, described as “a landmark recording” by the Financial Times and nominated for a Grammy award. His 10-CD set of the complete Beethoven sonatas cycle, the first-ever by an American-born pianist, was nominated for a Grammy and has been ranked among the most distinguished recordings of this repertoire. Other recording highlights include a series of Bach Partitas, a duo recording with Dawn Upshaw, and Mozart piano concertos with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. A native of New York, Richard Goode studied with Elvira Szigeti and Claude Frank, with Nadia Reisenberg at the Mannes College of Music, and with Rudolf Serkin at the Curtis Institute. His numerous prizes over the years include the Young Concert Artists Award, First Prize in the Clara Haskil Competition, the Avery Fisher Prize, and a Grammy award for his recording of the Brahms Sonatas with clarinetist Richard Stoltzman. His first public performances of the complete cycle of Beethoven sonatas at Kansas City’s Folly Theater and New York’s 92Y in 1987–88 brought him to international attention, being hailed by The New York Times as “among the season’s most important and memorable events.” It was later performed with great success at London’s Queen Elizabeth Hall in 1994 and 1995. Mr. Goode served, together with Mitsuko Uchida, as co-Artistic Director of the Marlboro Music School and Festival in Marlboro, Vermont from 1999 through 2013. Participating initially at the age of 14, at what the New Yorker magazine recently described as “the classical world’s most coveted retreat,” he has made a notable contribution to this unique community over the 28 summers he has spent there. He is married to the violinist Marcia Weinfeld, and, when the Goodes are not on tour, they and their collection of some 5,000 volumes live in New York City.

January 19, 2025: THE VIRTUOSO ORGANIST PAUL JACOBS, ORGAN Charles Ives (1874-1954) Variations on "America" January 19, 2025: THE VIRTUOSO ORGANIST PAUL JACOBS, ORGAN Charles Ives was an eighteen-year-old organ virtuoso when he composed his celebrated variations for organ on the patriotic hymn “America.” He would not enter Yale until two years later, and his primary musical influence was his bandmaster father George. When he first performed the Variations on “America” on February 17, 1892, at the Methodist church in Brewster, New York, he was still improvising parts of it, as he recalled, and his father had something to say about what he could and could not include. Apparently the piece sometimes contained an interlude of canons (exact or close imitation as one part overlaps another) in three different keys, which George had ruled out because it “made the boys laugh out loud.” Furthermore, he had forbidden the polonaise (a Polish-style dance in 3/4 time) on account of the conflict he perceived between a European form and an American tune. (He later reinstated it as Variation 4.) As with many of Ives’s works, the Variations on “America” were not published until long after they were composed, in this case 1949, but the piece was one of his first to become widely known and played. As it stands, the work features an introduction, a theme, Variations 1 and 2, an interlude, Variations 3 and 4, a second interlude, Variation 5, and a coda. Influences of pieces Ives studied around the time of composition certainly play a role—particularly those by John Knowles Paine, Dudley Buck, and Johann Christian Heinrich Rinck—but the work also manifests Ives’s great streak of originality. In the variations themselves he constantly fragments, reorders, and recomposes his source tune in quite sophisticated ways. Further, the interludes, which were added around 1909–10, show the bold use of two keys at once—F major and D-flat major in the first and A-flat major and F major in the second. Many casual listeners have supposed Ives to be poking fun at the patriotic main theme, whereas those more familiar with his sense of humor have suspected him rather of mocking the more stodgy variation forms of his time. His sense of humor is certainly evident, but he was most likely earnest in showing his mastery of the variation form and of his given instrument. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

arr. Emilio Pujol/Miguel Llobet November 2, 2014 – Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Sharon Isbin, guitar MANUEL DE FALLA (1876-1946) Siete canciones populares españolas arr. Emilio Pujol/Miguel Llobet November 2, 2014 – Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Sharon Isbin, guitar In 1907 Spanish composer Manuel de Falla went to Paris, where he formed friendships with Debussy, Dukas, and Ravel that greatly influenced his career. At the time of the Paris production of his opera La vida breve in the winter of 1913–14, a Spanish singer in the cast asked Falla for advice about which Spanish songs she should include on a Paris recital. He decided to arrange some Spanish songs himself using his own system of harmony, which he had just tried out for the harmonization of a Greek folk song that had been requested by a Greek singing teacher. This system stemmed from Falla’s study of Louis Lucas’s L’acoustique nouvelle , a mid-nineteenth-century treatise that he had picked up as a young man in Madrid at an open-air book stall, and which was to influence his later style profoundly. It consisted of deriving harmonies from the natural resonance of a fundamental tone, that is, its harmonics, then using these harmonics as new fundamental tones. Though Falla never lost sight of traditional harmony he claimed that this system, which anticipated harmonic theories of the twentieth century, revolutionized his entire conception of harmony. He completed the Siete canciones (from which various instrumental arrangements were made, often titled Suite populaire espagnole ) in Paris before the outbreak of World War I forced him to return to Madrid in 1914. He did not permit the singer who had sought his advice to perform them on a Spanish-themed program in Paris because of a bad experience he himself had had performing on a similar Spanish program. They were first performed by Luisa Vela (who had just sung in the Madrid premiere of La vida breve ) accompanied by the composer in Madrid on January 14, 1915. The first Paris performance was delayed until May 1920. The songs are dedicated to Madame Ida Godebski, a great friend of Falla; Cipa and Ida Godebski’s famous salon in Paris was a gathering place for many other composers and writers including Roussel, Stravinsky, Ravel, Gide, Valéry, and Cocteau. Falla chose to set seven folk songs from various regions of Spain. García Matos, in his detailed study of Falla’s sources in the Madrid periodical Música in 1953, found that the first and third songs closely follow the folk sources as to the tunes and texts, the second and sixth songs were retouched slightly, the seventh was modified slightly and expanded, the fifth reworked considerably, and the fourth was probably created from a combination of sources. The plaintive “El paño moruno” (The Moorish Cloth) comes from the province of Murcia; Falla later characterized the Murcian miller in Three-Cornered Hat by employing the first fours bars of the song’s bass line. The lively “Seguidilla murciana” takes up a popular Murcian dance form. Its original piano accompaniment imitates a guitar playing in punteado (plucked-sting) style—returned in this arrangement to the instrument of its inspiration. “Asturiana” moves the listener to the North of Spain for a peaceful lament. The passionate “Jota” takes the name of one of the most widely known Spanish song and dance forms, associated with the region of Aragon. Falla employs the characteristic alternation of sections of rapid accompaniment in 3/8 meter with those in a slower tempo for the voice. “Nana” is a lullaby, which Falla said he heard as a child from “his mother’s lips before he was old enough to think.” The tune stems from Andalusia, and as such differs from other Spanish cradle songs because, according to the composer, much Andalusian vocal music originated in India. The geographical origin of the “Canción” is uncertain, although Falla followed the popular theme fairly faithfully according to Matos. At the end a canon between the voice and the accompaniment provides textural interest. The last song, “Polo,” of Andalusian origin, reflects the flamenco or Gypsy world. The original piano accompaniment again evokes the guitar’s punteado style—again returned to its source of inspiration—and the accents represent palmadas (hand-clapping) of the spectators. The songs have been performed far and wide in all manner of arrangements. Ernesto Halffter, student and friend of Falla, orchestrated the accompaniment, and subsequent adaptations have appeared for various instruments taking the vocal part, as well as transcriptions of the piano accompaniment for guitar—here adapted by Miguel Llobet from the version by Emilio Pujol. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Siete canciones populares españolas El paño moruno Al paño fino en la tienda una mancha le cayó por menos precio se vende, porque perdió su valor ¡Ay! Seguidilla murciana Cualquiera que el tejado tenga de vidrio no debe tirar piedras al del vecino. Arrieros semos; ¡puede que en el camino nos encontremos! Por tu mucha inconstancia yo te comparo con peseta que corre de mano en mano; que al fin se borra y creyéndola falsa ¡nadie la toma Asturiana Por ver si me consolaba, arriméme a un pino verde; por verme llorar lloraba. ¡Y el pino, como era verde, por verme llorar lloraba! Jota Dicen que no nos’queremos porque no nos ven hablar; a tu corazón y al mío se lo pueden preguntar. Ya me despido de ti, de tu casa y tu ventana; y aunque no quiera tu madre, adiós, niña, hasta mañana. Aunque no quiera tu madre . . . Nana Duérmete, niño, duerme, duerme, mi alma, duérmete, lucerito de la mañana. Nanita, nana, duémete, lucerito de la mañana. Canción Por triadores, tus ojos, voy a enterrarlos; no sabes lo que cuesta (“Del aire . .”), niña, el mirarlos. (“Madre, a la orilla . . .”) Dicen que no me quieres, ya me has querido . . . váyase lo ganado (“Del aire . . .”) por lo perdido. (“Madre, a la orilla . . .”) Polo Guardo un “ay” Guardo una pena en mi pecho Ay! Que a nadie se la diré! Malhaya el amor, malhaya! Ay! Y quien me lo dió a entender! Ay! Seven Popular Spanish Songs The Moorish Cloth On the fine cloth in the shop there fell a stain; it sells at a cheaper price, for it has lost its worth. Ay! Seguidilla from Murcia Whoever has a roof that is made of glass ought not to throw stones at that of his neighbor. We are the muleteers; perhaps on the road we’ll meet! For your great inconstancy I would compare you to a peseta that passes from hand to hand; which finally gets worn down and, believing it false, no one will take it! From Asturia To see if it would console me I lay under a green pine; it wept to see me weeping. And the pine, because it was green wept to see me weeping! Jota They say we’re not in love because they don’t see us speak; they ought to question instead both your heart and mine. I take my leave of you, of your house and your window; and though your mother forbids it, farewell, sweetheart, till tomorrow. Though your mother forbids it . . Lullaby Go to sleep, child, to sleep, to sleep, my dearest, go to sleep, little star of the morning. Lullay, lullaby, go to sleep, little star of the morning. Song Since your eyes are traitors I’ll bury them; you know not what it costs (“Del aire . . .”), my child, to look at them. (“Madre, a la orilla . . .”) They say you don’t love me, but you loved me once . . . you are the winner (“Del aire . . .”) for having lost me. Polo Ah! I keep a…Ah! I hold a pain in my breast, Ah! that to no one will I tell! Wretched is love, wretched, Ah! And he who gave it to me to understand! Ah! Return to Parlance Program Notes

May 21, 2023: Kevin Zhu, violin; Albert Cano Smit, piano JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Sonata in A, Op. 100 for violin and piano May 21, 2023: Kevin Zhu, violin; Albert Cano Smit, piano Brahms composed the A major Violin Sonata during the summer of 1886 in idyllic Hofstetten, Switzerland. That summer he eagerly anticipated the visit of Hermine Spies, the young contralto for whom he wrote many of his late songs. He noted that the Sonata’s second theme quotes one of the songs he wrote with her in mind, “Wie Melodien zieht es mir” (As if melodies were moving), op. 105, no. 1. Commentators have also linked “Komm bald” (Come soon), op. 97, no. 6, with this movement and found references in the finale to two other Opus 105 songs, “Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer” (My slumber grows more and more peaceful)—which climaxes with the same words, “Komm’, O komme bald”—and “Auf dem Kirchhofe” (In the churchyard). Brahms’s friend Elisabet von Herzogenberg was moved to characterize the entire A major Sonata as “a caress.” As was his custom, Brahms himself participated in the premiere of the Sonata on December 2, 1886, with violinist Joseph Hellmesberger, leader of the Hellmesberger Quartet and enthusiastic supporter of the composer. The performance occurred a little over a week after Brahms had accompanied Hermine in her Viennese debut recital. The first movement breathes the kind of lyricism associated with Brahms’s songs whether or not one hears the specific allusions. It is the second theme in this sonata form that recalls his lovely “Wie Melodien,” borrowing the first phrase only, which Brahms varies rhythmically and gives a new continuation. The tune reappears in the recapitulation and furnishes the violin’s last utterance to close the coda. The second movement combines a slow movement and scherzo in alternating sections, in a manner similar to the middle movement of the F major Quintet. Each returning section brings a subtle variation of its former appearance. Brahms marked the finale “Allegretto grazioso quasi Andante” in order to achieve a non-hurried, graceful atmosphere. The climactic phrase “Come, o come soon” (from “Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer”) can be detected in the rondo theme. The first contrasting episode introduces a haze of arpeggiated chords rather than a “tune” before the rondo refrain returns, but the second episode sounds more traditionally songful. A variation of the first theme returns in the coda, extended by warm double stops in the home key. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

SARAH VONSATTEL, VIOLIN Violinist Sarah Crocker Vonsattel has been a member of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra since 2008. She previously held positions in the Detroit Symphony Orchestra and the Colorado Symphony. Sarah has appeared as soloist with the musicians of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, the Syracuse Symphony, and the Cleveland Institute of Music Orchestra, among others. Recent performances include appearances at Lake Tahoe Summerfest, the Dame Myra Hess Concert Series, the Bronxville Chamber Music Series, Downtown Music at Grace Church, the New Marlborough House Concerts, and the Syracuse Society for New Music. As a founding member of the Verklärte Quartet, Sarah was a Grand Prize Winner of the 2003 Fischoff National Chamber Music Competition, leading to concert tours in the U.S. and Italy with this ensemble. A proponent of new music, Sarah has appeared with the iO string quartet and the Talea Ensemble and can be heard on the Bridge Records label performing the music of Poul Ruders and Tod Machover. She has appeared as both performer and faculty member at festivals including the Orfeo International Music Festival (Italy), the Wellesley Composers Conference (Massachusetts), and the Musical Friends Academy (Tunisia). She holds a Bachelor of Music degree from the Cleveland Institute of Music, where she was a student of David Updegraff, and a Master of Music degree from the Juilliard School, where she studied with Ronald Copes and Naoko Tanaka. In her spare time, she enjoys distance running and traveling.

April 3, 2016: Sir James Galway, flute; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Paolo Bourdignon, harpsichord JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Sonata in E, BWV 1035 for flute and continuo April 3, 2016: Sir James Galway, flute; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Paolo Bourdignon, harpsichord Bach presumably wrote the E major Flute Sonata in 1741 in connection with his visit to the court of the flute-loving King Frederick the Great in Potsdam (close to Berlin), and probably for the King’s flute partner and chamberlain Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf. The sources for the work all date from the nineteenth century, so the exact date of composition and circumstances for which it was written remain conjecture—hence the attempt of Bach scholars to suggest a plausible scenario. The style of the piece, though an unreliable way to date a composition, also fits with the 1741 date. The E major Sonata does not contain the kind of imitative polyphony usually considered “typical” of Bach, and it takes the form of a sonata da camera—typically a free introductory movement and several dance movements—the only such instance among Bach’s ensemble sonatas. Instead of casting doubts on the work’s authenticity, this style fits in with the progressive tendencies Bach showed in the late 1730s and early 1740s, before he adopted an older, increasingly contrapuntal style after 1745. Bach may also have associated a more galant, dance-inspired style with the transverse flute, which developed primarily in France. He did not, after all, indicate the flute as interchangeable with violin or any other treble instrument. (Later publications have done this to make the flute sonatas available to a wider public.) The opening motive—a long note with a florid continuation—recurs throughout the slow first movement. Bach provides agreeable rhythmic variety with two sections of triplets. The Allegro second movement follows rounded binary form—two sections, each repeated, with the opening theme returning halfway through the second section in its original key—the precursor of sonata form. The Siciliano, also in binary form, exhibits the characteristic 6/8 meter and dotted rhythms of the Baroque dance suite movement. The final movement, Allegro assai in 3/4 meter, features phrases alternately beginning with three eighth-note or three sixteenth-note upbeats. As in the work’s other binary movements, Bach follows the custom in Baroque suites for the main thematic material to initiate both sections. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes