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

ABOUT THE 2013-2014 SEASON 2013-2014 SEASON 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

PHILLIP MOLL, PIANO Born in Chicago, Phillip Moll lives in Berlin, working as an accompanist and ensemble pianist and collaborating with such diverse artists as Kyung Wha Chung, Sir James Galway and Jessye Norman. He has performed and recorded with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, the German Symphony Orchestra, the RIAS Chamber Choir and the Berlin Radio Choir, and performances have taken him throughout Europe, North America and the Far East. Since 2004 he has held a professorship for song interpretation at the Leipzig Hochschule. Among the many recordings in which he has taken part are the Brahms German Requiem with theBerlin Radio Chorus (with piano duet), Piano Trios of Dvořák and Suk with the Berlin Philharmonic Piano Trio, vocal duets with Paul-Armin and Peter Edelmann, Gypsy Songs with Renée Morloc, Rossini’s Petite Messe Solennelle with the RIAS Chamber Choir, Opera Fantasies with wind soloists of La Scala, compositions of Schubert and Bartók with violinist Andrea Duka Löwenstein, and a programme of shorter pieces with Sir James Galway.

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February 20, 2022 – Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Juho Pohjonen, piano PABLO SARASATE (1844-1908) Navarra, Op. 33 for two violins and piano February 20, 2022 – Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Juho Pohjonen, piano Pablo de Sarasate won international admiration for his violin playing, characterized by an unusually sweet and pure tone, technical perfection, and a wider vibrato than was common at the time. He dazzled audiences all over Europe, Russia, and North and South America. The esteem in which he was held by many composers is revealed by the large number of compositions dedicated to him: Bruch’s Second Violin Concerto and Scottish Fantasy, Saint-Saëns’s First and Third Violin Concertos and Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, Lalo’s First Violin Concerto and Symphonie espagnole, Dvořák’s Mazurek, Joachim’s Opus 11 Variations, and Wieniawski’s Second Violin Concerto. Sarasate was also one of the first violinists to make recordings—in 1904—which are remarkable despite the drawbacks of early recording techniques. Sarasate was at his best as a composer when he relied on folk tunes or other composers’ themes. His most popular compositions are his Zigeunerweisen (Gypsy Airs), four books of Spanish Dances, Fantasy on Themes from Carmen, his Introduction and Tarantella, and the present Navarra. He naturally drew on the folk dances of his native Spain, even when creating his own melodies in a folklike character. He generally did little to alter his basic presentation of these themes, but then subjected them to virtuosic variations to show off his skills. Most of his works begin with a slow, rhapsodic section followed by a lively section of showstopping brilliance. In Navarra, published in 1889, Sarasate pays tribute to his birthplace of Pamplona in the Navarre region of Spain. His motivation for composing for two violins and piano (the accompaniment was later orchestrated) is unknown, but both violin parts are extremely virtuosic, with the added dimension that all these pyrotechnic passages—whether in parallel thirds, trills, or contrary-motion arpeggios—require exact synchronization. Part of Sarasate’s inspiration was the Spanish music of the gaitas, a small recorder-like instrument whose range and style he imitates in harmonics, tremolo (fast repeated notes), and lightning passage work for the violins. Together the two soloists play an introductory recitative that launches a lively dance. The middle section changes key and adopts a singing style before breaking out in unabashed virtuosic filigree. The opening dance resumes in yet more brilliance to which Sarasate adds a showstopping coda. By Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

< Back Igor Stravinsky The Soldier’s Tale Benjamin Luxon, narrator; Anni Crofut, dancer; Instrumental Septet Program Notes Previous Next

2011-2012 ARTIST ROSTER STEPHANIE BLYTHE, RECITER ANDRÉS DÍAZ, CELLO JULIE GUNN, PIANO DEBORAH HOFFMAN, HARP CYNTHIA PHELPS, VIOLA DENIS BOURIAKOV, FLUTE - 2011 TIM FAIN, VIOLIN NATHAN GUNN, BARITONE STEFÁN RAGNAR HÖSKULDSSON, FLUTE MIDGE WOOLSEY, NARRATOR WENDY CHEN, PIANO RAFAEL FIGUEROA, CELLO THOMAS HAMPSON, BARITONE WARREN JONES, PIANO

October 11, 2026: Viano String Quartet | Four of a Kind Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) String Quartet No. 4 in E minor, Op. 44, No. 2 October 11, 2026: Viano String Quartet | Four of a Kind Mendelssohn was ecstatic when he married Cécile Jeanrenaud in March 1837, and thrilled to become a father when his first son was born in February 1838. His letters from this time are touching in their description of his domestic bliss. Professionally he stood at the forefront of German music—he directed the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, arranged numerous festivals, and conducted and played throughout the country. He was also in great demand in England as conductor, composer, and pianist. The three String Quartets, op. 44, are products of this happy but hectic time. He composed the E minor first (no. 2 in the published opus) while on his honeymoon, completing it on June 18, 1837. The E-flat major (no. 3) followed in February 1838, and the D major (no. 1) in July 1838. During the same period Mendelssohn refers to other works completed and works in progress—two rondos for piano (one with orchestra and one without), a violin sonata, a cello sonata, a psalm, an opera, and a symphony in B-flat. His extraordinary productivity speaks volumes about the facility of his composing, which he had to fit in among all his domestic and professional activities. Mendelssohn’s exceptionally talented Gewandhaus concertmaster, Ferdinand David, also led a string quartet, which premiered the E minor Quartet on November 19, 1837. David was to premiere Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in 1845, a work in the same key as the Quartet, about which Mendelssohn had already written to him on the heels of the Quartet in 1838. Many commentators have noted that elements of the E minor Quartet’s first movement act as a precursor to the Concerto, particularly the rising main theme with its syncopated accompaniment. The E minor Quartet, like the others in Opus 44, takes Haydn’s and Mozart’s quartets as a point of departure rather than the middle and late quartets of Beethoven. The first movement’s rising theme receives a variety of different accompaniments that show Mendelssohn’s ingenuity within a Classical framework. The second theme offers lyrical respite before the first theme returns with accompaniment in a new guise. As in all three Opus 44 Quartets, Mendelssohn places the “fast” movement second and the slow movement third. Here Mendelssohn shows himself as the king of the effervescent, elfin scherzo. His textures enchant and his rhythmic groupings—3 + 3 + 2, rather than the four-square 4 + 4—are genius. A “song without words”—Mendelssohn’s preferred slow-movement type at this time—presents a lyrical melody over undulating accompaniment, a more turbulent idea, and a return to the opening. The central section is particularly notable for the cello singing in its upper register. The finale takes off at breakneck speed, its agitated trajectory halted only for occasional broader expanses, as in the second theme. The buildup to the end makes for a splendidly breathless finish. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 2, 2023: ETTORE CAUSA, VIOLA; PAUL WATKINS, CELLO; BORIS BERMAN, PIANO JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Trio in A minor for viola, cello, and piano, Op. 114 April 2, 2023: ETTORE CAUSA, VIOLA; PAUL WATKINS, CELLO; BORIS BERMAN, PIANO As mentioned above (see the Sonata, op. 120, no. 2), Brahms was convinced that the G major String Quintet of 1890 would be his last composition, yet the following year he became so inspired by the clarinet playing of Richard Mühlfeld in Meiningen that he wrote four more works, all featuring the clarinet. For all of these works he broadened their appeal by also writing versions featuring the viola in place of the clarinet. Brahms wrote a rather humorous letter to Countess Heldburg, wife of Count Meiningen, on July 25, 1891: I wish to invite myself to Meiningen! For once this is not out of pure egotism! I must tell you in secret how much I have thought of you and worked for your welfare. Entre nous it has not escaped my notice that you have a “penchant” for the Right Honorable Richard Mühlfeld. I have seen you try to pick him out in the orchestra; last winter I was able to bring him into the limelight with the Weber Concerto, but now I can produce him properly and in secret. He can sit on one of your chairs; you can turn over [turn pages] for him and make your vows during the pauses allotted to him! To this end I must tell you that I have written a Trio and a Quintet in which he has to play. Brahms wanted to try the works out in Meiningen comfort before presenting them in Vienna. His longtime but sometimes estranged friend Joseph Joachim, the celebrated violinist, begged to be present at the trial and played in the Quintet. Brahms performed the Trio on November 21 with Mühlfeld and the superb Berlin cellist Robert Hausmann, and on November 24 the Quintet was tried. Both performances took place at parties given by Countess Heldburg. Joachim liked both works so much that he arranged their first public performance on one of his Berlin Quartet concerts, December 12, with Brahms again playing the piano part in the Trio. Both works were extraordinarily well received. The Trio and Quintet contain some of Brahms’s most formally skilled and impressive music, yet both, especially the Trio, are tinged with melancholy. The Trio’s opening and closing movements are both in sonata form, both are in A minor, and both contain second themes that are presented by the cello, then by the clarinet with the cello echoing the theme canonically upside-down. Brahms strove to make the lower-ranged cello an equal partner with the clarinet, and indeed the cello presents not only the second theme but begins the introduction—alone and in high register. The first movement shows Brahms’s penchant for fashioning a first theme group out of several contrasting ideas. This not only provides great resources for development but also enables him to disguise the recapitulation by beginning with an idea from the first theme group, but not necessarily the initial one. The movement closes with fluid whispered scales and arpeggios. The serene slow movement in D major epitomizes Brahms’s late period conciseness, unfolding in only fifty-four measures. It gives the impression of a ternary form, but also contains elements of sonata form. A leisurely scherzo-alternative, the Andante grazioso presents a clearer ternary structure, with the meter and ambiance of a waltz or Ländler. The unhurried simplicity of the opening gives little hint of the movement’s scope, in which Brahms gently indulges in his love of metric play. The Finale offers intriguing rhythmic organization, with the opening notated both in 2/4 and 6/8 meter. The second theme, with the canonic continuation mentioned above, switches to 9/8. Brahms plays with the form by bringing back the first theme directly after the exposition, almost as if the exposition were to be repeated or as a rondo refrain. The development ensues, however, rich in modulation through Brahms’s favored descending chains of thirds. The recapitulation then begins where the “false return” left off. The work closes resoundingly and seriously in A minor. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 16, 2018: Emerson Quartet FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797-1828) String Quintet in C major, D. 956, op. posth. 163 December 16, 2018: Emerson Quartet Between August and October 1828, just before his tragically early death in November, Schubert completed an amazing number of pieces, widely varying in character and containing some of his most beautiful music—the three late piano sonatas, the song collection Schwanengesang, the incredible C major String Quintet, and Der Hirt auf dem Felsen (The Shepherd on the Rock). The great quantity and quality may have been an act of defiance by one who knew he had little time left, but they could just as easily have been the product of one confident in his creative powers who had no thoughts of dying, since he had always recovered from previous illnesses. No sketches nor autograph manuscript of the miraculous String Quintet survive to give clues about its gestation. It is entirely possible that the work’s total creation took place within two weeks that September. We know only that the Quintet had been recently completed from a letter to publisher Probst on October 2 offering the work for publication along with the three piano sonatas and some Heine songs. In that letter Schubert mentioned that the Quintet would be “tried over in the near future,” something that did not actually happen until 1850 and in a cut version at that. Probst turned down the Quintet, probably because such a large-scale chamber work would not sell well (though he expressed interest in the songs). This masterpiece was not published until 1853. Schubert’s String Quintet has become one of the most beloved chamber music works of all time. Its endless flow of gorgeous melodies and advanced modulating harmonies, its engaging mixture of tenderness and robustness, and its luxurious sonority enhanced by the presence of a second cello have spoken in an especially personal way to audiences and performers alike. Much has been made of Schubert’s pioneering medium—the presence of two cellos rather than two violas as in Mozart’s great Quintets. “Pioneering” is justified here since Boccherini’s earlier two-cello quintets contained a soloistic first cello part to show off his own playing, whereas Schubert’s five players are all equal participants in a true piece of chamber music. Many reasons for his choice have been offered, but the simplest is probably that he loved the sound of the cello in its tenor range but did not want to give up its bass support. This wondrous work, like his G major Quartet two years earlier, begins simply with a sustained chord that blossoms into melodic and rhythmic fragments. The way in which he immediately transforms these elements portends a movement of great breadth and imagination, but nothing can fully prepare the listener for the melting beauty of the second theme. If for no other reason, the sonority of the two cellos singing high above the viola’s bass line more than justifies Schubert’s chosen quintet configuration. This lilting theme makes many appearances in various instrumental configurations, giving the movement its overall sense of serenity, though Schubert does introduce enough dramatic conflict, particularly in the development section, to provide balance. One of the crowning jewels of the Quintet is its exquisite Adagio, one of Schubert’s rare essays in such a slow tempo. The drawn-out unfolding of his theme seems to suspend time, a quality that speaks volumes about Schubert’s confidence and prowess. His memorable texture has the three middle instruments playing the sustained theme while the first violin provides fragmented outbursts and the second cello pizzicato support. Without warning the middle section explodes passionately in a distantly related key, after which the sublime opening section returns with inspired variants. Toward the end, the turbulent music tries to intrude but is quickly repressed by the prevailing calm. The extraordinarily moving quality of this music led both celebrated pianist Artur Rubinstein and esteemed writer Thomas Mann to say they would choose this movement to hear on their deathbeds. The scherzo’s stomping peasant dance, replete with hunting calls, contains remarkable harmonic shifts and bold dissonances that lend a sophisticated sheen to the merriment. No greater contrast can be imagined than the somber, introspective trio that is ultimately brushed aside by the return of the merry Scherzo. The finale imparts rustic Hungarian flavor with its vigorous short-long rhythms in the accompaniment and shifts between minor and major. The lilting second theme gives a more elegant, courtly impression. Toward the end he creates an unforgettable sonority by offsetting the cellos, again in duet, against delicate arching chords in the upper three voices. His exuberant coda speeds up twice to provide a dazzling conclusion. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

March 11, 2018: Benjamin Beilman, Violin; Orion Weiss, piano BÉLA BARTÓK (1881–1945) Violin Sonata No. 2, BB 85 (Sz. 76) March 11, 2018: Benjamin Beilman, Violin; Orion Weiss, piano Bartók wrote his two sonatas for violin and piano in 1921 and 1922 for violinist Jelly d’Arányi, with whom he played them in London, the first in 1922 and the second in 1923. The composer especially like performing the Second Sonata, not only with d’Arányi but with Imre Waldbauer, József Szigeti, and Zoltán Székely. Along with The Miraculous Mandarin and the First Piano Concerto, the violin sonatas are products of Bartók’s “expressionist” period, when he came closest to the ideals of the Second Viennese School of Schoenberg, Berg, and Webern. Lecturing in America in 1927–28 Bartók said: “There was a time when I thought I was approaching a species of twelve-tone music. Yet even in works of that period the absolute tonal foundation is unmistakable.” The composer himself described the First Violin Sonata as “in C-sharp minor” and the Second as “in C major,” but the tonality is extremely clouded in both. In the Second Sonata a pivotal relationship proves to be that of a tritone from F-sharp to C. Further, in both he refrains from the traditional sharing or imitation of materials between the two instruments, which makes these two works unlike any other works in the genre. In the Second Sonata in particular Bartók also avoids the conventional form of a sonata, employing instead a condensed two-movement form related to the model of traditional Hungarian verbunkos (recruiting music) consisting of a slow section (lassù ) and a fast section (friss ). The first movement adopts a free, declamatory style with elaborate ornamentation and frequent pushing and pulling of the tempo typical of the slow (lassù ) section, albeit in a more dissonant style. Bartók hasn’t completely distanced himself from Classic forms here, drawing on a kind of sonatina structure—that is, exposition and recapitulation with no development—but his recapitulation varies the four sections of his exposition themes significantly and the overall effect sounds freely rhapsodic rather than betraying its careful organization. The opening theme, which Bartók recalls not only at the opening of the recapitulation but twice in the coda, also plays a unifying role in the second movement. A technique that comes into play in the first movement, though less than in the first movement of the First Sonata, is the placing of successive melody notes in different registers (octave displacement), a common technique in twelve-tone composition. This greatly alters, for example, the sound of the return of the third section in the recapitulation. Bartók in his Hungarian Folk Music suggests a folk equivalent to this “high art” technique: Hungarian peasants do not devote much care to selecting a suitable pitch, but they simplify difficulties in proportion as they occur: whenever a note is too high or two low for them, they transpose it by an octave, regardless of design and rhythmic conditions. This they will do ad libitum, perhaps several times in the course of one tune. Hence at times peculiar leaps of a seventh occur. . . . In the course of time this practice has become so usual that many peasants resort to changes of octaves without being driven by need. The connected second movement exhibits a lively dance character, like the friss section of verbunkos style, and unfolds in a form somewhat like a rondo in which the “refrain” returns in varied guises. Bartók ingeniously links his two movements by recalling themes from the first movement in the intervening episodes and by having the violin return to the first movement’s opening theme at the climax near the end. The piece ends with an atmospheric fade to a somewhat surprising but radiant C major chord. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 14, 2019: Jason Vieaux, guitar PHILLIP GLASS (BORN 1937) Metamorphosis II April 14, 2019: Jason Vieaux, guitar One of the most successful and controversial composers of our time, Philip Glass developed a distinctive style as a minimalist pioneer in the 1960s and early ’70s, using additive and subtractive cycles in static harmony and motoric rhythms for amplified instruments. He created a large body of music in this style for his celebrated Philip Glass Ensemble and for the Mabou Mines Theater Company, which he cofounded. This period culminated in his Music in Twelve Parts (1971–74), eventually a four-hour work, which was the first that his ensemble played in a traditional concert hall. Glass’s landmark opera Einstein on the Beach , created with Robert Wilson in 1976 for New York’s Metropolitan Opera, brought him instant renown. Since then he has further explored the operatic genre in more than twenty works, also branching out into dance, theater, and film music. His film scores for Martin Scorsese’s Kundun and Stephen Daldry’s The Hours received Academy-Award nominations and his score for Peter Weir’s The Truman Show won a Golden Globe. He has also produced a significant amount of chamber and orchestral music. Among Glass’s recent compositions—premiered in 2017—are his Symphony No. 11, music for the film Jane about the life of Jane Goodall, his Piano Concerto No. 3 for Simone Dinnerstein, a new theater work for the Days and Nights Festival, Passacaglia (Distant Figure) for solo piano, and his String Quartet No. 8. His Piano Quintet, “Annunciation,” premiered in April 2018, and January 2019 saw the spectacular premiere by the Los Angeles Philharmonic of his Symphony No. 12, “Lodger,” a symphonic song cycle on texts by David Bowie and Brian Eno from Bowie’s album Lodger . In 1988 Glass completed a set of five Metamorphoses for piano, which he released on his landmark Solo Piano album the following year. A longtime admirer of Franz Kafka’s works, Glass took his title from the author’s famous short story Die Verwandlung (The metamorphosis) about a salesman transformed into an insect. The pieces draw on two projects that Glass had recently completed—the score for Errol Morris’s 1988 documentary The Thin Blue Line about a man wrongfully sentenced to death for the murder of a police officer, and his score for part of Gerald Thomas’s 1987 staging in Brazil of a Kafka Trilogy (A Process, Metamorphosis, and Praga) . Said Glass, “As both projects were undertaken at the same time, the music seemed to lend itself well to a synthesis of this kind.” Metamorphosis II has become the most frequently performed of the five pieces and received even more exposure in the 2002 film The Hours . Anne Akiko Meyers writes, “The first time I heard Philip Glass’s hauntingly beautiful Metamorphosis II , I was so struck by it that I asked Michael Riesman (who has collaborated closely with Philip Glass for decades) to arrange it for violin and piano. To my surprise, during our collaboration, Michael mentioned that Metamorphosis II, was influenced by Arvo Pärt’s Fratres .” Riesman adds, “This arrangement is fairly straightforward, except that the middle section, which has rapid four-note arpeggios for piano, didn’t seem idiomatic enough on violin to me, so I changed the pattern to three notes with top and bottom notes repeated, as in Arvo Pärt’s Fratres.” For this series of concerts featuring the collaboration between Anne Akiko Meyers and Jason Vieux, Riesman adapted the piano part for guitar. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes