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GARRETT FISCHBACH, VIOLA Garrett Fischbach has been a member of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra since 1998. He was a member of the San Francisco Symphony from 1996-98 and the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington, D.C. from 1995-96. His 2CD recording of the complete works for solo violin by J.S. Bach was released to critical acclaim in 2004. He was a college division faculty member at Mannes School of Music from 2008-2015, and has been a guest adjudicator at Juilliard Pre-College and Manhattan School of Music. He has performed and taught at the Sun Valley Artist Series, the Sid & Mary Foulger International Music Festival, and International Workshops in Graz, Austria. Garrett earned a Bachelor of Music degree, magna cum laude, from Boston University where he studied with George Neikrug and Yuri Mazurkevich, and a Master of Music degree from Northern Illinois University as a student of Shmuel Ashkenasi. Garrett is an active chamber musician and recitalist, and is sought after in New York City as a teacher for advanced violinists and violists.

SUNDAY, MARCH 19, 2023 AT 4 PM BACH’S 338TH BIRTHDAY CONCERT: RACHEL NAOMI KUDO, PIANO BUY TICKETS RACHEL NAOMI KUDO, PIANO 1st Prize Winner, 2018 Leipzig International Bach Competition “Full of joy in playing and with the utmost precision, she received cheers and thunderous applause for her magnificent performance.” — Südwest Presse, Ulm, Germany FEATURING ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS Parlance Chamber Concert’s annual celebration of Bach’s Birthday will showcase the pristine artistry of American pianist Rachel Naomi Kudo, one of today’s leading Bach interpreters. Winner of the 2018 Leipzig International Bach Competition, she has garnered international acclaim for the majesty, clarity and sheer joy of her performances. Her all-Bach recital will include an wide range of Bach’s keyboard masterpieces, including the scintillating Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor, vivacious Italian Concerto, and a set of divinely inspired Chorale Preludes. PROGRAM J.S. Bach Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor, BWV 903 Program Notes J.S. Bach Italian Concerto, BWV 971 Program Notes J.S. Bach Toccata in D, BWV 912 Program Notes J.S. Bach Chorale Prelude “Chorale Prelude “Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme,” BWV 645 (arr. Busoni) Program Notes J.S. Bach Chorale Prelude “Sheep May Safely Graze,” BWV 208 (arr. Petri) Program Notes J.S. Bach French Suite No. 2 in C minor, BWV 813 Program Notes J.S. Bach Chorale Prelude “Ich ruf zu Dir, Herr Jesu Christ,” BWV 639 (arr. Busoni) Program Notes J.S. Bach Toccata in C minor, BWV 911 Program Notes Watch Rachel Naomi Kudo perform Bach’s Italian Concerto, BWV 971: Watch Rachel Naomi Kudo perform Chorale Prelude “Sheep May Safely Graze,” BWV 208 (arr. Petri)

May 19, 2019: Wendy Bryn Harmer, soprano; Ken Noda, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Three Late Songs, K. 596 – 598 May 19, 2019: Wendy Bryn Harmer, soprano; Ken Noda, piano Mozart composed three songs on January 14, 1791, just short of two weeks before his thirty-fifth and last birthday. His lodge brother Ignaz Alberti printed them early that same year in the Frühlingslieder (Spring Songs) section of the Liedersammlung für Kinder und Kinderfreunde (Song collection for children and their friends). This four-volume set, of which only the spring and winter volumes survive, was edited by teacher, poet, humanities scholar, and Catholic priest Placidus Partsch, who likely had the responsibility of assigning texts to different composers. Mozart’s three songs are all strophic—that is, several verses sung to the same melody and, unlike his usual practice, Mozart formatted them like piano pieces with one verse written between the staves. The remaining verses were printed on separate pages. Sehnsucht nach dem Frühling (Yearning for spring), placed first in the spring volume, has achieved folk-song-level popularity owing to its happy melody and charming storytelling images. The poem by Christian Adolf Overbeck (1755–1821) was originally titled Fritzchen an den Mai (Little Fritz, to May), referring to an appealing character Overbeck had contributed to German children=s literature. The title Mozart used stems from a collection edited by J. H. Campe, though many people know the song simply by its first line, Komm, lieber Mai (Come, dear May). The poem consists of five verses, but many modern performers often omit one or more of the middle verses. Clearly Mozart had the melody on his mind because he had just used it as the theme of the rondo finale in his last Piano Concerto, K. 595, completed only nine days earlier. For Im Frühlingsanfange (At spring’s beginning), Mozart sets a poem by Christian Christoph Sturm (1740–1786) titled simply Der Frühling (Spring). Mozart’s own title stems from the catalog he kept of his works, but the first edition bore the title Dankesempfindungen gegen den Schöpfer des Frühlings (Thankful feelings toward the creator of spring). Here, despite the strophic setting, Mozart leaves the world of childhood behind with his dramatic opening chords, a touching melody with signature upward leap and gently elaborated descent, a throbbing bass repeated note in the middle, judicious chromatic harmonies, and a sophisticated if brief piano postlude. Sturm’s poem contains six verses (ordered differently from the Mozart complete works edition as given below), but performers often omit two or three of them. Mozart returns to childlike fun and Overbeck’s poetry for Das Kinderspiel (Children’s play). The nine-verse poem was originally titled simply Kinderlied (Children’s song), but its carefree high spirits, which Mozart captures perfectly, make Kinderspiel an especially fitting title. As with the other songs in this set, singers today often omit some of the interior verses. Mozart gives the performance direction Munter (Blithely) and sets the text in a lightly dancing 3/8 meter. Little leaps and oscillations add to the playful atmosphere. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

March 19, 2023 – Rachel Naomi Kudo, piano JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) French Suite No. 2 in C minor, BWV 813 March 19, 2023 – Rachel Naomi Kudo, piano As demand increased for his keyboard teaching, Bach realized that he needed instructive materials other than the virtuoso works of his early years—not only for students who sought him out, but for his own children who were beginning to show considerable musical talents. Thus between 1717 and 1725 he composed a large number of works of varying degrees of difficulty as teaching tools. Heinrich Nikolaus Gerber, who studied with Bach from 1724 to 1727, left an account of his teaching methods, which included starting a student on the two-part Inventions, followed by the three-part Sinfonias, moving on to the so-called French Suites, then the English Suites, and finally to the great “48,” the preludes and fugues of the Well-tempered Clavier. Bach’s own son, Carl Philipp Emanuel, reported the same course of study. The title “French” that became attached to these Suites in the years following Bach’s death is somewhat mystifying. Though he gave the title in French—Suites de clavecin—the Suites contain as many German and Italian characteristics as they do French. Similarly, the “English” Suites, whose original title was also given in French, do not seem particularly English. In Bach’s lifetime the French Suites were called the “Little” Suites to distinguish them from the more extensive English Suites. Bach first began collecting the so-called French Suites, composed c. 1722–25, in a notebook he was compiling for his second wife, Anna Magdalena. It is clear that these pieces were, to a certain extent, works in progress, because Bach returned to them several times to make revisions, perhaps with different students in mind. He also left his own copy relatively free of ornamentation, possibly to encourage his students to develop improvisational skills in that regard. What is now Suite No. 6 does not appear in that notebook, having been added to the other five around 1725; there also exist two other similar suites that Bach might have considered including at one time. In all of these “French” suites he decided to omit the prelude that opens his other suites, even going so far as to remove one he had already composed to make it fit the group. Bach based his suites on a standard series of Baroque dance movements, which by this time were no longer meant for actual dancing—Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, and Gigue. All the movements employ binary form (two sections, each repeated). A variety of additional dance movements could be inserted between the Sarabande and Gigue, the typical place for any slightly more “modern” dance forms. Because the French Suites contain no preludes, the opening Allemandes take on that function and even contain gestures and figuration similar to that of Bach’s preludes. Suite No. 2 in C minor is one for which several variants exist in the sources, particularly in the Allemande and Courante. The Courante exhibits the “running” style of the Italian corrente in a two-voice texture. For his inserted dances Bach chose an Air, also in two voices, and one or two minuets, depending on the version one follows. The delightful Gigue employs the upbeats, dotted rhythms, and strong-beat accents of the French dance known as the canarie. Bach’s imitative entries add another level of allure. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 19, 2017: Alessio Bax, piano; Lucille Chung, piano DMITRI SHOSTAKOVICH (1906–1975) Concertino in A minor, Op. 94 for two pianos December 19, 2017: Alessio Bax, piano; Lucille Chung, piano Shostakovich composed his Concertino for two pianos in December 1953 for his sixteen-year-old son Maxim, who premiered it with another student, Alla Maloletkova, on November 8, 1954, at the Moscow Conservatory. (The erroneous date of January 20, 1954, is sometimes given as the date of the premiere. Scholar Laurel Fay has determined that no record of a performance on that date exists, though there was a performance on January 20, 1955.) The November concert was devoted to works of Shostakovich, including the song cycle From Jewish Poetry and the Piano Quintet with the composer at the piano. It was for his son that Shostakovich also wrote his Second Piano Concerto in 1957. A one-movement work, the Concertino begins with an Adagio featuring serious unison octave pronouncements alternating with hymnlike passages. Soon, however, an exuberant Allegretto takes over, which the composer and his son take at a very fast tempo in their historic recording for Monitor Records. The jaunty second theme in Shostakovich’s “circus music” vein sounds as if he is making reference to a family joke. Development of both ideas remains lively, building to a shimmering climax. His recall of the hymnlike music over bass tremolo is striking, as is his tiptoeing return to his main theme and boisterous second theme. With immense drama Shostakovich briefly recalls both ideas of his opening Adagio before the main theme of his Allegretto makes a mad dash to the finish. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

EMILY DAGGETT SMITH, VIOLIN A violinist praised as playing “gorgeously” and with “gracefulness and easy rapport” (The Boston Globe) Emily Daggett Smith is emerging as one of the most compelling artists of her generation. Her recital and chamber music performances have taken her across the United States, Europe, South America and Asia, and she has been described as playing with a “very beautiful tone” (The Gathering Note) and “irrepressible élan” (The Seattle Times). An avid chamber musician, Ms. Smith performs regularly at numerous festivals and series around the country such as the Concordia Chamber Ensemble, Festival Mozaic, Lenape Chamber Ensemble, Mainly Mozart Festival, Ravinia’s Steans Institute, and the Seattle Chamber Music Society. She has shared the stage with many renowned musicians including current and former members of the Cleveland, Emerson and Juilliard String Quartets, as well as pianists Claude Frank, Joseph Kalichstein, and Gilbert Kalish. Her performances have taken place at some of the world’s greatest halls including Carnegie Hall, Alice Tully Hall, the Shanghai Grand Theatre and the Vienna Konzerthaus, and have been featured on PBS’s national broadcast Live from Lincoln Center, NPR’s From the Top, Classical King FM in Seattle and WWFM The Classical Network in New York and Pennsylvania. As a soloist, Ms. Smith made her New York concerto debut at the age of 21 in Alice Tully Hall, playing the Beethoven Violin Concerto with the Juilliard Orchestra and conductor Emmanuel Villaume. Since then she has performed concerti with many orchestras including Iris Orchestra, Festival Mozaic Orchestra, New Amsterdam Symphony Orchestra, and the New York Classical Players. Growing up in the Boston area, she has also appeared as soloist with various orchestras in New England including a performance at the Hatch Shell in Boston as part of the Landmark Orchestra Series. As a concertmaster of the Juilliard Orchestra she has worked with many renowned conductors including Michael Tilson-Thomas, Leonard Slatkin and Nicholas McGegan.

October 14, 2018: Garrick Ohlsson, piano JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Eight Pieces, Op. 76 October 14, 2018: Garrick Ohlsson, piano During his stay in the lovely village of Pörtschach in the summer of 1879, Brahms worked diligently on his Violin Concerto, but he also returned to composing piano pieces, resulting in the Klavierstücke , op. 76. He had produced no piano works for public consumption in fifteen years, but had not abandoned his principal instrument completely as seen by the first of these pieces, which he had originally presented to Clara Schumann as a birthday present in 1871. Having permanently left behind the monumental sonatas and variation sets of his earlier period, he took up the thread of “miniatures,” begun with the Opus 10 Ballades and which would culminate in the late great piano pieces, opp. 116–119. He found such shorter pieces perfect for exploring a myriad of subtle textures and nuances of mood. And, as it turns out, he had not abandoned the variation techniques that fascinated him at all periods of his life—he had simply refined them. The eight Klavierstücke , op. 76, are divided into two main types: the faster, more extroverted Capriccios—Nos. 1, 2, 5, and 8—and the slower, more introspective Intermezzos—Nos. 3, 4, 6, and 7. Brahms invented such a variety of characters within each type, however, that the designations remain only loose categorizations. The first Capriccio, in F-sharp minor, and the second, in B minor, for example, could hardly be more different. The first is a swirling, turbulent piece, whereas the famous second Capriccio presents a lighthearted, sometimes impish demeanor. Brahms’s friend Elisabet von Herzogenberg, from whom he frequently solicited opinions on his music, said the F-sharp minor Capriccio was her favorite, but she also loved playing the second. Brahms employed slightly different forms for each of the eight pieces. They all, however, have to do with the alternation of two main sections and with the ingenious variation of a section when it returns. The first Capriccio contrasts the opening theme of yearning, wide-ranging figures with one in which a four-note figure recurs in many guises. In No. 2 the two basic themes alternate minor and major, but both are playful with enlivening grace notes and off-beat accents. The first of the Intermezzos, No. 3 in A-flat major, gives the impression of a music box in its first and third sections by means of high range and staccato accompaniment; these sections alternate with more lush music that hints at Chopin. The Intermezzo in B-flat major, No. 4, presents an intricate texture somewhat reminiscent of Schumann, with each voice maintaining its own rhythmic pattern. Here Brahms offers a complete miniature sonata form. The powerful Capriccio in C-sharp minor, No. 5, displays one of Brahms’s favorite rhythmic devices—the simultaneous use of 6/8 and 3/4 meter. The wonderful tension this creates is abetted by intense chromaticism. The second theme begins in a waiting pattern of repeated octaves, then bursts out in lively figuration. The Intermezzo in A major, No. 6, again brings Schumann to mind with its many-layered texture; it too juxtaposes rhythmic patterns of twos and threes. The most striking feature of No. 7, the A minor Capriccio, is the chordal theme that frames the piece. The second section is notable for its insistent return to one note (G-sharp). The set closes with a Capriccio of complex moods and textures—No. 8 in C major, which begins with a section of flowing eighth-note figuration, within which tied notes provide slight emphasis. The second, more chordal idea takes intriguing harmonic expeditions. Just when it seems the piece might conclude contemplatively, the coda gathers momentum for a forceful finish. Plagued by self-doubt, Brahms asked Clara Schumann if he should omit No. 8 from the publication. We can be grateful that she told him it was a great favorite of hers, perhaps saving the piece from banishment. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 23, 2017: Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Warren Jones, piano JULES MASSENET (1842-1912) Letter Scene and Va! Laisse couler mes larmes from Werther April 23, 2017: Isabel Leonard, mezzo-soprano; Warren Jones, piano At least as early as 1880 Massenet was considering writing an opera based on Goethe’s epistolary novel Werther (1774), whose protagonist commits suicide over unrequited love. Goethe’s tragic hero became one of the chief symbols of the Romantic movement in Europe. In Massenet’s factually challenged memoirs he was purposefully vague about the timing of the genesis of his opera saying it had stemmed from when dramatist Georges Hartmann handed him a copy of Werther in Wetzlar on their way back from a performance of Parsifal in Bayreuth. As Masssenet sat reading, he recounted, in a German beer hall in the town where Goethe’s story takes place, he was moved to tears, particularly by the Ossian quote “Pourquois me réveiller” (Why awaken me), which Werther would sing in one of the opera’s dramatic peaks. Scholars have determined that Massenet’s vagueness would lead readers to assume he was talking about the summer of 1882, and that he put aside the idea for his operas Manon and Le Cid, but other details confirm that this Parsifal journey must have occurred in 1886. In truth Massenet began composing Werther in 1885, based on a scenario by Hartmann but actually setting a libretto by Édouard Blau and Paul Millet, so the Wetzlar occasion would have simply spurred him on. Though Hartmann had not actually written part of the libretto, the composer no doubt gave him nominal credit to aid him financially when his bankrupt publishing firm was being absorbed by another. Massenet completed the opera in 1887, but Léon Carvalho, director of the Opéra-Comique, turned it down as too depressing. The theater burned down shortly thereafter, and, though there was a possibility of a premiere in 1889, Massenet’s next opera, Esclarmonde , was performed instead. As it turns out, the premiere took place on February 16, 1892, sung in German, at the Vienna Hofoper—the result of the management requesting another opera from Massenet after the great success of his Manon there in 1890. Somewhat surprisingly, the soprano who had sung the role of Manon in Vienna now took on the mezzo-soprano role of Charlottte, a performance fondly remembered there for decades. The Parisian premiere in 1893 met with only modest success, and it took until the 1903 revival by Albert Carré for Werther to achieve popular status and acclaim as one of Massenet’s greatest masterpieces. The story concerns Charlotte, whose care for her siblings after her mother’s death arouses the sympathy and love of Werther, even though he knows she is set to marry the absent Albert. Charlotte and Werther attend a ball and become entranced with each other, but the spell is shattered when they return to her house and hear that Albert has returned. Time passes, and Charlotte and Albert have been married for three years when the depressed Werther can’t help show his feelings for her. Charlotte says he must really go away until Christmas. Despairing, he contemplates suicide and leaves. On Christmas Eve, Charlotte rereads all the letters that Werther has sent to her, admitting that she really loves him. The desolate Werther appears suddenly and they reminisce tenderly, but she flees. Albert reads a letter from Werther saying he is going away and wants to borrow his pistols. Albert makes the agitated Charlotte bring them as she fully realizes Werther’s intention. She runs to Werther’s rooms, where he lies mortally wounded. He is happy to be united with her, and she admits she has always loved him before he dies in her arms. Massenet made certain changes in Goethe’s story, such as Charlotte’s marriage to Albert being the result of her dying mother’s wish rather than her own choice, having Albert know why Werther wanted to borrow his pistols, and having Werther actually conscious for a final duet with Charlotte. Nevertheless the story proved relatively unproblematic to adapt for the operatic stage, and provided Massenet with a perfect vehicle to show the full force of his ability to write inspired, fluid melodies as well as shrewd psychological character development. The Letter Scene (“Air des lettres”), in which Charlotte reads from letters that Werther has sent her, specifically connects with Goethe’s original story, which he tells in the form of letters. The music’s psychological drama draws from the fact that we experience both the emotions that Werther transmitted in writing the letters as well as Charlotte’s reaction to them. With incredible dramatic pacing, Massenet follows this (after an exchange in which Charlotte’s sister Sophie tries to cheer her up) with the remarkable “Air des larmes” (Aria of tears), in which Massenet famously uses a saxophone obbligato—nicely imagined here on piano—to aid in the aria’s mournful expressiveness. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Scène des lettres (Air des lettres) Werther! Werther! Qui m’aurait dit la place que dans mon coeur il occupe aujourd’hui? Depuis qu’il est parti, malgré moi tout me lasse! Et mon âme est pleine de lui! Ces lettres! . . . Ah! je les relis sans cesse . . . Avec quel charme, mais aussi quelle tristesse! Je devrais les détruire . . . je ne puis! «Je vous écris de ma petite chambre; un ciel gris et lourd de Décembre pèse sur moi comme un linceul, et je suis seul! seul! toujours seul!» Ah! personne près de lui! . . . Pas un seul témoignage de tendresse ou même de pitié! Dieu! Comment m’est venu ce triste courage, d’ordonner cet exil et cet isolement? «Des cris joyeux d’enfants montent sous ma fenêtre. Et je pense à ce temps si doux où tous vos chers petits jouaient autour de nous! Ils m’oublieront peut-être?» Non, Werther, dans leur souvenir votre image reste vivante, et quand vous reviendrez . . . Mais doit-il revenir? Ah! ce dernier billet me glace et m’épouvante! «Tu m’as dit: à Noël, et j’ai crié: Jamais! On va bientôt connaître qui de nous deux disait vrai! Mais si je ne dois reparaître, au jour fixé, devant toi, ne m’accuse pas, pleure-moi! Oui, de ces yeux si pleins de charmes, ces lignes, tu les reliras, tu les mouilleras de tes larmes, O Charlotte, et tu frémiras!» Va! Laisse couler mes larmes Va! laisse couler mes larmes . . . elles font du bien, ma chérie! Les larmes qu’on ne pleure pas, dans notre âme retombent toutes, et de leurs patientes gouttes Martèlent le coeur triste et las! Sa résistance enfin s’épuise; le coeur se creuse et s’affaiblit: il est trop grand, rien ne l’emplit; et trop fragile, tout le brise! Letter Scene (Letter aria) Werther! Werther! Who would have told me the place that he occupies in my heart today? Since he has gone, in spite of myself, I’ve been all weary! And my soul is filled with him! These letters! . . . Ah! I read them constantly . . . With what charm, but also what sadness! I should destroy them. . . I cannot! “I am writing to you from my little room; a sky gray and heavy of December weighs upon me like a shroud, and I am alone! Alone! Always alone!” Ah! No one near him! . . . Not a single testimony of tenderness or even pity! God! How did this this sad courage come to me, to order this exile and isolation? “Joyful cries of children rise from beneath my window. And I think of the time so sweet when all your dear little ones were playing around us! They will forget me, perhaps?” No, Werther, in their memory your image remains alive, and when you return . . . But will he return? Ah! This last note freezes and terrifies me! “You said to me: Christmas, and I cried: Never! We will soon know which of us was speaking the truth! But if I do not reappear, on the appointed day, before you, do not accuse me, weep for me! Yes, with those eyes so full of charms, these lines, you will reread them, and you will wet them with your tears, O Charlotte, and you will tremble!” Go! Let my tears flow Go! Let my tears flow . . . They do me good, my dear! The tears that we don’t cry all fall back into our soul, and their patient drops hammer on the sad and weary heart. Its resistance is finally exhausted; the heart grows hollow and weakens: it is too great, nothing fills it; and too fragile, everything will break it! Return to Parlance Program Notes

DEBORAH HOFFMAN, HARP Deborah Hoffman has been principal harpist with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra since 1986. Ms. Hoffman is chairperson of the harp department at Manhattan School of Music and has been a faculty member since 1997. She has appeared as soloist with the Pittsburgh Symphony, Jupiter Symphony, Orchestra of St. Luke’s, and the MET Orchestra in Carnegie Hall under the baton of James Levine. Ms. Hoffman has also toured extensively in Latin America as soloist with the symphony orchestras of Santiago, Costa Rica, Caracas, and Colombia. Ms. Hoffman was the first-prize winner of the 1981 American Harp Society Competition, and in 1978 was a top-prize winner in the Seventh International Harp Competition in Israel. In 1983 she was chosen to represent the United States at the First World Harp Congress in the Netherlands. Ms. Hoffman has performed throughout Canada and the United States as a member of the Hoffman Chamber Soloists, an ensemble comprised of her parents and three brothers. She received both Bachelor and Master of Music degrees from the Juilliard School, where she was a student of Susann McDonald. Ms. Hoffman records for Arabesque Records and has recently completed a Grammy-nominated recording of original transcriptions of Chopin works.

MARIKO ANRAKU, HARP Mariko Anraku has won attention as one of the world’s outstanding harpists through numerous appearances as soloist and chamber musician. She has enchanted audiences with her virtuosity and “manifestation of grace and elegance” (Jerusalem Post). The New York Times has hailed her as a “masterful artist of intelligence and wit.” Since 1995, she has held the position of Associate Principal Harpist of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. Since her debut as soloist with the Toronto Symphony led by Sir Andrew Davis, Ms. Anraku has appeared with the Vienna Chamber Orchestra, New Japan Philharmonic Orchestra, Yomiuri Symphony Orchestra, Tokyo Symphony, Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, and Concerto Soloists of Philadelphia, among others. As a recitalist, she has performed in major concert halls on three continents, including Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall and Merkin Concert Hall in New York, Jordan Hall in Boston, Bing Theater at the Los Angeles County Museum, Opera Comique in Paris, Palazzo dell’Esposizioni in Rome, and the Casals, Kioi, and Oji Halls in Tokyo. Ms. Anraku’s impressive list of awards includes the Pro Musicis International Award, First Prize at the First Nippon International Harp Competition, First Prize in the Channel Classics Recording Prize, and the ITT Corporation Prizes at the Concert Artists Guild Competition in New York. She was also awarded Third Prize and the Pearl Chertok Prize for the best performance of the required Israeli composition at the International Harp Contest in Israel. Ms. Anraku’s strong commitment to contemporary music and the expansion of the boundaries of the harp repertoire has included an invitation to premiere works by Toshio Hosokawa in Germany collaborating with traditional Japanese musicians and monks. She also gave the USA premiere of Jean-Michel Damase’s Concerto “Ballade” with the Cincinnati Chamber Orchestra at the American Harp Society Conference, and has collaborated in a tribute to Takemitsu at Merkin Concert Hall in New York. Mariko Anraku has recorded exclusively for EMI Classics, including three solo recordings and a CD with eminent flutist Emmanuel Pahud. A compilation from her solo CDs has also been released. She holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the Juilliard School and is a recipient of an Artist’s Diploma from the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto. Her teachers have included Nancy Allen, Lanalee deKant, Judy Loman, and her aunt, Kumiko Inoue. Ms. Anraku also studied Oriental Art History at Sophia University in Tokyo, Japan. She has been on the faculty of the Pacific Music Festival since 2011.

May 6, 2018: Oliver Neubauer, violin; Anne-Marie McDermott, piano MAURICE RAVEL (1875-1937) Tzigane, rapsodie de concert May 6, 2018: Oliver Neubauer, violin; Anne-Marie McDermott, piano On one of his many performing tours to England, Ravel attended a private soiree in 1922 at which Hungarian violin virtuoso Jelly d’Arányi played the composer’s Duo with cellist Hans Kindler. As the evening progressed Ravel asked her to play a Gypsy melody, then another, until the party finally broke up at five o’clock in the morning. Though that occasion planted the seed for his Tzigane, rapsodie de concert (Gypsy, concert rhapsody), it took another two years for him to complete the piece because of numerous intervening projects such as his opera L’enfant et les sortilèges (The child and the sorceries). As it turns out, Ravel completed the brilliant, challenging Tzigane just days before Arányi and pianist Henri Gil-Marchex were to premiere it on April 26, 1924, in London. Her sensational performance dazzled the audience and critics—all but one, who expressed confusion over whether the composer was parodying Hungarian Gypsy violin music or launching a new style with more warmth than his previous works had shown. On November 24 that year Arányi also premiered Ravel’s orchestrated version, this time in Paris with Gabriel Pierné conducting the Concerts Colonne orchestra. While Ravel had been working on Tzigane he had sought technical advice from his violinist friend Hélène Jourdan-Morhange. “Come quickly,” he telegrammed her, “and bring the Paganini Caprices with you.” This speaks volumes about the kinds of feats expected of the violinist in this one-movement piece. The colorful but spare orchestral accompaniment prominently features the harp ingeniously combined with the solo violin. The opening “cadenza” for the unaccompanied violin sounds improvisatory and declamatory, beginning, in the instrument’s sultry lowest range and progressing through slides, trills, octave passages, and harmonics, all the while calling for the kinds of changes and bending of tempo so characteristic of Gypsy music. Toward the end of the cadenza the accompaniment sneaks in quietly but with an unexpected harmony. The violin and piano together launch the dancelike main section of the piece, which varies ideas from the cadenza and introduces two new themes—a sprightly patter first given to the piano and a swaggering theme marked “grandiose.” Ravel creates an effect of humorous suspense by slamming on the brakes several times during his brilliant drive to the close. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes