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March 26, 2017: Jerusalem String Quartet Ludwig van Beethoven Quartet No. 11 in F minor, Op. 95 (“Serioso”) March 26, 2017: Jerusalem String Quartet Beethoven’s F minor String Quartet of 1810, the last of his “middle” quartets, is one of a select group of works for which he provided his own descriptive title—other famous instances being his Pathétique Sonata and Eroica and Pastoral Symphonies. He marked his manuscript “Quartett Serioso,” a curious mix of German and quasi-Italian, which apparently meant a work devoid of ostentation whose inner conflicts were expressed by pared-down harmonic, motivic, and formal structures. Unfortunately it could imply that his Harp Quartet, op. 74, written just a year before—and any of his other quartets for that matter—were not “serious,” though surely he meant it as a way to separate his quartet production apart from the proliferation of showy and less weighty quartets by other composers that had begun populating the concert scene. On another front, the work’s “seriousness” has to do with his having written it without a commission because of a personal compulsion, and dedicating it to a friend, cello-player Nikolaus Zmeskall von Domanovecz, rather than to a highborn patron. This resonates with his late quartets, which, though instigated by a patron, ended up being composed out of sheer inner necessity. Beethoven had already begun using quartet-writing as the place for exploring his most forward-thinking ideas—which had led to such disappointing critical reception of his Razumovsky Quartets, op. 59—but now this testing ground took a turn toward privacy. He waited an unusually long time before having the Serioso Quartet performed and published. The work received its first performance by the Schuppanzigh Quartet in May of 1814, for which occasion Beethoven apparently revised it. The Serioso was one of several pieces that Beethoven sold to publisher Anton Sigmund Steiner in 1815 in repayment of a debt. The debt must have been substantial because the batch also included the Opus 96 Violin Sonata, the Archduke Trio, the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies, and several smaller works. A pivotal work, the Serioso takes a look back to the Razumovsky and Harp Quartets but just as clearly points to the late quartets, though it would be fourteen years before he took up the genre again. Concision and new harmonic relationships are paramount here, and often his compression of both boils down to single notes or pairs of notes. The first movement’s dark, furious unison opening suddenly breaks off, followed by a leaping response characterized by dotted rhythms. The ensuing lyrical elaboration of the opening now pointedly highlights the remote Neapolitan harmony (based on the flatted second scale degree). A prominent pair of half steps in the lyrical passage sets up the somewhat unusual key of D-flat for the lovely second theme. Twice, once at the end of the second theme and once in the midst of the closing theme, explosive ascending scales and daring excursions to remote keys command our attention. It stands to reason that in such a terse movement Beethoven would not repeat his exposition. Instead he shocks the listener again with a crashing major chord that seems to signal a development. Yet this turns out not to be a thorough “working-out” in the classical sense, rather a brief revisiting of the furious opening and the leaping dotted-rhythmic idea, followed by a suspenseful buildup. Beethoven then begins his drastically shortened recapitulation with the fortissimo unison of the transition to the second theme. A coda of the same length as the development balances out this remarkable rethinking of sonata form. The Allegretto ma non troppo begins softly and mysteriously, with a melodic shape similar to the first movement’s opening. Any idea of relaxed, lyrical contrast becomes entangled in a wavering between major and minor and an increasing influx of chromaticism that peaks in the middle section’s fugue. This remarkable interior piece unfolds in two sections before the opening music returns in shortened form. Beethoven continues with a serene coda, but instead of ending peacefully makes a directs link to the ensuing tempestuous scherzo. Beethoven asked that his third movement, a typical place for an irreverent scherzo, be played Allegro assai vivace ma serioso. Propulsive sections with an obsessive dotted rhythm alternate with two trio sections of more lyrical demeanor, which still transmit a restless sense with the first violin’s figurations and unusual harmonic juxtapositions of distantly related keys. A truly slow, reflective introduction prefaces the agitated sonata-rondo finale. Compact once again, the movement features a dancelike but disquieting main theme that Beethoven varies ingeniously on every recurrence. Its last appearance comes to a halt on a hushed major chord that unleashes one of the most talked about endings ever. A lightening quick coda in the major mode rockets forth in unimaginable contrast to the rest of the movement and to the entire piece. In this Beethoven parallels his own Egmont Overture, written just months before, also in a serious F minor with an F major coda, but whereas that ending represents a hard-won victory corroborated by the story, here Beethoven seems simply to be letting go, albeit in breathtaking style. © 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

September 29, 2024: Edward Arron, cello; Jeewon Park, piano. This piece was also performed on January 18, 2026 by cellist Jonathan Swenson and pianist Orion Weiss. Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827) Seven Variations on Bei Männern from Mozart's Magic Flute for cello and piano September 29, 2024: Edward Arron, cello; Jeewon Park, piano. This piece was also performed on January 18, 2026 by cellist Jonathan Swenson and pianist Orion Weiss. Beethoven composed works in the popular vein just as industriously as he created his most soul-searching and original masterpieces of “art” music. Every famous and not-so-famous composer of his day, as in preceding generations, considered improvising or writing sets of variations practical tools of the composer’s art. Beethoven’s skill at improvising on a theme given to him on the spot was legendary, but he was also enough of a businessman to know that writing down and publishing variation sets was a lucrative business, especially if the varied theme were a popular tune from an opera that was making the rounds. Beethoven especially admired Mozart’s operas, though he was equally adept at varying less elegant themes, thereby rescuing them from ultimate obscurity. In the 1790s Beethoven had composed variations on tunes from three great Mozart operas: “La ci darem” from Don Giovanni for two oboes and English horn, “Se vuol ballare” from Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) for violin and piano, and “Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen” from Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) for cello and piano. In 1801 he was again drawn to The Magic Flute—and the same cello-piano combination—this time for a set of variations on “Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen” (A man who feels love), originally an exquisite duet between the comic birdcatcher Papageno and Princess Pamina. Beethoven’s immediate stimulus was probably a revival produced around that time by Emanuel Schikaneder, the opera’s librettist and original portrayer of Papageno. Beethoven’s manuscript for the “Bei Männern” Variations shows a crossed-out dedication, probably to Countess von Fries, whose husband had just received the dedication of the Violin Sonatas, opp. 23 and 24. Evidently changing his mind, the composer inscribed the work instead to Count Johann Georg von Browne-Camus, whom Beethoven had described as “the Maecenas of my Muse” in the dedication of his String Trios, op. 9. Beethoven dedicated a number of works to the count, whose generosity extended even to presenting him with a horse for dedicating to his wife the Variations on a Russian Dance from Wranitzky’s “Das Waldmädchen.” As in many of his variation sets, Beethoven follows tradition by including variations of contrasting tempos and characters, a minor-key variation, and an elaborate and extended final variation. He preserves Mozart’s tender quality in the presentation of the theme—even suggesting the two singing roles by switching the melody between the piano right hand and the cello. He does, however, leave the stamp of his personality by making some subtle, fascinating changes in Mozart’s rhythm and articulation. The quiet but sprightly first variation breaks the mood and immediately shows that piano and cello are to be equal partners as they begin in counterpoint. The virtuosity for both is stepped up in the next variation, whereas the third calls for sweetness and grace. Variation 4, the minor-mode variation, presents a haunting kind of melancholy, featuring the cello in its lower range. The capricious fifth variation provides a foil both to this and to the Adagio variation that follows. Here the tenderness returns with an added layer of poignance and elegant figuration. The extended final variation offers a procession of characters from dancelike to stormy, and injects a last moment of reflection just before the energetic concluding chords. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

CHELSEA KNOX, FLUTE Chelsea Knox is the principal flutist of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. A sought-after performer, Ms. Knox has held positions as assistant principal flute of the Baltimore Symphony and principal Flute of the New Haven and Princeton Symphonies. She has been hailed by the New York Times for her warmth, precision, and clarity, as well as by the New York Classical Review for her “expressive life and full tone.” An active orchestral and chamber musician, Ms. Knox has appeared with numerous orchestras including the Seattle Symphony, Vancouver Symphony, San Diego Symphony, and IRIS Orchestra. Additionally, she was a member of the acclaimed woodwind trio, ETA3, managed by Manhattan Music Ensemble. As a soloist, Ms. Knox has performed concertos with the Baltimore Symphony, Hartford Symphony, Manchester Symphony, Juilliard Lab Orchestra, and Connecticut Youth Symphony. She has won competitions including the New York Flute Club Young Artists Competition and the Hartford Symphony Young Artists Competition. Ms. Knox earned both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the Juilliard School in New York City as a student of Jeffrey Khaner. A native of Litchfield, CT, she received her early training at the Hartt School of Music, where she studied with Greig Shearer. In her spare time she is an active visual artist and her work has been displayed in galleries in New York and Connecticut.

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May 17, 2026: Chee-Yun, violin; Henry Kramer, piano Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) Violin Sonata No. 3 in D minor, Op. 108 May 17, 2026: Chee-Yun, violin; Henry Kramer, piano In 1886 Brahms spent the first of three idyllic summers in the village of Hofstetten in the Swiss mountains where the Aare flows into Lake Thun. He wrote to his publisher Simrock of the wonderful view from his lodging—on one hand the ancient town and castle and on the other the amazing array of mountains of the Bernese Oberland. These inspiring surroundings contributed to his immense productivity that summer: he composed his F major Cello Sonata, his C minor Piano Trio, two of his most beloved songs (“Immer leiser” and “Wie Melodien zieht es mir”), his A major Violin Sonata, and all but the finishing touches of the present D minor Sonata. Unlike that summer’s other three chamber works, which Simrock published the following year, the D minor Sonata remained in manuscript until Brahms completed it during his third Hofstetten summer. In October 1888 he sent the Sonata and over twenty new vocal works to his good friend Elisabet von Herzogenberg, who wrote back in ecstatic terms about the Sonata. To Clara Schumann, another of his closest circle, he wrote that he then felt confident enough to have the work sent on to her—thus braving Clara’s disapproval at not receiving it first—saying she might try it out with Naret Koning and with celebrated violinist Joseph Joachim, their longtime mutual friend. With typical self-doubt he added that if she did not like it, not to bother trying it with Joachim, but send it back. Clara often had rheumatic pains at the time, so she first let her daughter Elise play it through with Koning, pronouncing it “magnificent” and “ravishing” in her diary. Clara played the work privately with Koning in Frankfurt on December 8, 1888, and Brahms tried it out himself at the home of his physician friend Theodor Billroth in Vienna four days later. The composer then gave the first public performance with violinist Jenö Hubay on December 21 in Budapest, where he had gone to conduct his Fourth Symphony. After playing the Sonata again with Hugo Heermann in Frankfurt on January 11, 1889, Brahms performed the work with Joachim in Vienna on February 13. When the Sonata appeared in print that spring, Brahms dedicated it to conductor Hans von Bülow, champion of Brahms’s orchestral works. Thirty-five years earlier Bülow had been the first person, aside from Brahms himself, to perform one of the composer’s works publicly (his Opus 1 Piano Sonata). The D minor Violin Sonata, Brahms’s third and last, shows remarkable scope but also great concision. He cast the work in four movements rather than the three of his G major and A major Sonatas, but so concentrated are his methods that it lasts just over twenty minutes, making it shorter than the G major and the shortest of his four-movement chamber works, except, perhaps, for the C minor Trio. The sense of breadth arises out of his invoking such a wide dramatic range, from intimacy to brilliance. The first movement opens sotto voce (in a hushed voice) with the violin singing high above a restless accompaniment. His quiet, extended theme provides a great foil for the passionate eruption that ensues before the gentle second theme. But the movement’s most striking feature is its development section, which takes place over an insistent pulsing low note in the piano—his longest pedal point since the celebrated one in the third movement fugue of his Requiem. This harmonic anchoring of what would traditionally be a harmonically unstable section led to his ingenious transfer of that adventurousness into the recapitulation. The gorgeous slow movement owes its economy to one of Brahms’s simplest forms—basically a melody and its elaborated restatement. Yet the spacious, lyrical line and the luxurious harmonic flow leave no impression of terseness. Brahms sweetens the intensity of each section’s peak with the violin playing parallel thirds, a sonority he loved, with the added phrase of descending thirds in the second section casting a glow that subsides like a musical sunset. The scherzo begins with a quintessentially Brahmsian combination of playfulness and mystery. An impassioned outburst midway through the movement suggests a contrasting trio, which instead turns out to develop ideas from the first section. The return of the playful opening contains some charming variants and a “puff-of smoke” ending. Brahms’s finale is the most impassioned and vehement movement of any of his violin sonatas, despite his contrasting of the turbulent main theme with a more subdued chorale-like idea begun by the piano alone. The movement’s dramatic qualities have led some to speculate that it may have roots in one of the destroyed sonatas of his youth, written around the time his friendship with Joachim began. The most striking structural feature is the entrance of what seems to be a restatement of the dramatic opening in the home key but which soon turns into development, boasting some of Brahms’s most persistent syncopation. When the recapitulation proper begins, Brahms cleverly picks up just where that earlier restatement left off. His fiery coda demands virtuosity and all-out sound from both players. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Prelude and Fugue in D Major, BWV 532 December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ Bach’s astounding proficiency as an organist not only earned him legendary renown in his lifetime but contributed immeasurably to his unique position for posterity as an idolized composer of boundless inventiveness, mind-boggling intellect, and technical wizardry. His more than 250 compositions for organ span his entire lifetime, from his earliest pieces written as a student with his father’s cousin, organist Johann Christoph Bach, to an organ chorale, one of his last pieces, composed when he was nearly blind. Most originated during his employment at the Duke of Weimar’s court, 1708–17, the last period of his long life when he held an actual post as organist. The present Prelude and Fugue in D major is thought to be an early Weimar work from about 1710. This was a time during which he had absorbed influences from German predecessors such as Buxtehude, Böhm, and Pachelbel, as well as Italian masters such as Legrenzi and Corelli, but before he encountered Vivaldi’s works, which brought about a significant style change c. 1713–14. Bach’s early organ works show an impassioned exuberance if a generally less polished harmonic and polyphonic technique. Bach’s organ works can be easily categorized in two groups—those based on chorale melodies and those freely invented, such as toccatas, fantasias, preludes and fugues. The two categories do not separate music intended for church—the vast majority of his organ works—from that for any other purpose such as teaching or recitals, rather, there was considerable crossover. The Prelude and Fugue in D major, BWV 532, is one of those formally varied, exuberant “free” pieces, which unfolds on an especially large scale. The Prelude consists of a brilliant and wide-ranging introduction, a contrapuntal “Alla breve” (two beats to a bar) in Italian style with slowly shifting harmonies, and a slow section that ends with recitative-like passages in preparation for the Fugue. The fugue subject shows Bach’s fascinating inventiveness in shaping something extraordinary out of repetitions and sequences (the same material at a different pitch). He was clearly fascinated by this remarkable subject because he reused it in his Toccata in D major, BWV 912, which may date from around the same time. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

STEFÁN RAGNAR HÖSKULDSSON, FLUTE Stefan Ragnar Hoskuldsson, a native of Iceland, is principal flutist of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra and is quickly being recognized as one of the leading soloist in the country. Before winning the principal position in 2008, Stefan served as second flutist with the orchestra for four years. Under the direction of James Levine, Mr. Hoskuldsson regularly performs at Carnegie Hall and Zankel Hall with the MET Orchestra and Chamber Ensemble. He has performed under the batons of Valerie Gergiev, Daniel Barenboim, Seiji Ozawa, Essa Pekka Salonen, Ricardo Muti and has collaborated with such artists as Alfred Brendel, Yifim Brofman, Gil Shiham and Diana Damrau. Stefan can be heard and seen on live HD broadcasts with the Metropolitan Opera. One of these recordings include the 2008 performance of Lucia di Lammermoor where he collaborated with Anna Netrebko in the famous flute and soprano cadenza from the mad scene. In addition to his active schedule with the MET, Mr. Hoskuldsson performs as a soloist and chamber musician throughout the US, Europe, South America and Japan. In 2009, he was invited to be a special guest artist at the Sir James Galway International Flute master class in Lucerne, Switzerland where he performed a solo recital and had the honor of playing a duet with Sir James. Stefan returned there in the summer of 2010 to perform and give a workshop on the flute in operatic music. In March 2011, as a part of a European tour Mr.Hoskuldsson gave a series of very successful masterclasses and recitals at the Guildhall School and the Royal Academy of Music in London, and at the Conservatorio Real in Madrid. He is also a regular guest professor at Mannes College of Music and Manhattan School of Music. Stefan is a faculty member of the Pacific Music Festival in Sapporo, Japan. As an active soloist Stefan performed the Lowell Liebermann Flute Concerto with the Iceland Symphony Orchestra in 2006. He will return in August 2011 to perform Mozart Flute Concerto in D major in the newly inaugurated Symphony Hall “Harpa” in Reykjavik. Other Concerto engagements include a performance of the Mozart Flute and Harp Concerto with members of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra in New York in October 2011. Stefan will also perform the Nielsen flute concerto and the Bach b-minor Suite with the New York Repertory Orchestra in February 2012. In demand as an orchestral soloist, Mr. Hoskuldsson was invited to play Guest Principal Flute with the Mostly Mozart Festival during the 2009 season as well as with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra at the end of their 2010 -2011 season. Stefan attended the Royal Northern College where he studied with Peter Lloyd and Wissam Boustany. While in Iceland he attended the Reykjavik College of Music studying with Bernhard Wilkinson. Stefan has recorded for the Naxos label-American Classics Series.

November 20, 2022: Steven Banks, Saxophonist-Composer Xak Bjerken, Piano, Principal Strings of The Met Orchestra ASTOR PIAZZOLLA (1921-1992) Milonga del ángel for alto saxophone and piano November 20, 2022: Steven Banks, Saxophonist-Composer Xak Bjerken, Piano, Principal Strings of The Met Orchestra The tango, which originated in late nineteenth-century Buenos Aires in brothels and urban courtyards, gained ballroom status through its seductive powers, spreading to Paris and other European centers in the early twentieth century. Tangos traditionally featured not only couples dancing in tight embrace with almost violent leg motions, but also melodramatic poetry sung to the accompaniment of solo guitar; or a trio of flute, violin, and guitar (or bandoneon, a square, button-operated accordion); or larger ensembles of strings, bandoneon, and piano. Piazzolla infused the tango with new life following the Second World War, though he was criticized by traditionalists for adding dissonance and extended rhythmic techniques. His style, called nuevo tango, bears certain similarities to bebop and bossa nova, while largely avoiding the improvisations of jazz. Piazzolla helped bring about the even more recent tango renaissance through his many performances and recordings with his own Quinteto Nuevo Tango, which frequently joined with jazz ensembles, chamber groups, and orchestras across the globe. Piazzolla’s tangos are often soulful, expressive pieces that retain a certain melancholy even in their most lively passages. Along the way, delightful little surprises occur, such as bits of counterpoint, glissandos, harmonics, hesitations, a suddenly sweet sonority, a jaunty rhythm, and bursts of improvisatory-sounding but carefully written out figuration. Piazzolla composed a series of “angel” tangos, memorable for their melodic inspirations, in contrast to his diablo (devil) tangos, which feature brash harmonies and rhythms. One of his first “angel” works, Tango del ángel (1957) had inspired Alberto Rodriguez Muñoz’s 1962 play of the same title, for whose production the playwright asked Piazzolla to compose some additional pieces. One of these, Milonga del ángel, takes its name from the song form that was the prototype for the tango genre. Piazzolla himself and countless others have arranged his tangos for various combinations. The saxophone sound in particular has a clear affinity with the reedy sound of Piazzolla’s own instrument, the bandoneon. A sweet nostalgia pervades the opening and closing sections of Milonga del angel, framing a slightly more agitated middle section. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

SUNDAY, MAY 15, 2016 AT 3 PM Stephanie Blythe, mezzo-soprano; Craig Terry, piano BUY TICKETS STEPHANIE BLYTHE, MEZZO-SOPRANO “Carnegie Hall is no place for cabaret songs, an art form that thrived in Parisian cafes and Berlin nightclubs. Yet, on Friday the mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe, who can do anything, turned Carnegie’s 2,800-seat Stern Auditorium into her personal cabaret haunt.” – New York Times , May 17, 2015 CRAIG TERRY, PIANIST Lauded for his “sensitive and stylish” (The New York Times ) and “superb” (Opera News ) playing, pianist Craig Terry is Music Director of the Ryan Opera Center at Lyric Opera of Chicago. FEATURING ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS Join legendary mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe and pianist Craig Terry as they take the audience on a musical journey through the American Songbook, sharing gems from some of the greatest composers and lyricists of their age, including Irving Berlin, Saul Chaplin and Sammy Cahn, Harry Warren and Mack Gordon, Jerome Kern and B.G. DeSylva, Harold Arlen, George Gershwin and Johnny Mercer. From tender loves songs to passionate torch songs to melodies that remind us to always “to look for the silver lining,” they defined their generation and helped see our country through the Great Depression and two World Wars. This will be a memorable afternoon of music making and a celebratory conclusion to Parlance Chamber Concert’s 9th season! PROGRAM AS LONG AS THERE ARE SONGS Stephanie Blythe will announce the program selections from the stage. Program Notes See Stephanie Blythe and Craig Terry perform “We’ll Meet Again” on PBS

October 27, 2019: Quartetto di Cremona GIUSEPPE VERDI (1813–1901) String Quartet in E minor October 27, 2019: Quartetto di Cremona Verdi suddenly found himself with time on his hands in a hotel room in Naples in the spring of 1873. Teresa Stolz, his leading soprano, had fallen ill just after Don Carlos had opened and just as concurrent rehearsals were to begin for Aida. Since she was to sing in both, things ground to a halt and Aida’s premiere was postponed several weeks. Did Verdi relax? Did he work on another operatic project? No—to everyone’s great surprise, he wrote his only piece of solely instrumental music, his String Quartet in E minor. What possessed him to write a string quartet, that most hallowed of media, late in life and without prior experience? We can only assume he was confident he had the skill and wanted to prove it, and because the chance might never come again. On April 1, just after Aida opened, he invited seven or eight guests to the Hotel delle Croce, where he had set up music stands and four chairs. Soon four musicians from the theater orchestra—identified only as the Pinto brothers, violins, Salvadore, viola, and Giaritiello, cello—entered and played the Quartet for the surprised but delighted guests. They were so pleased that they demanded an encore, which Verdi granted, though he himself was unsure whether he liked the Quartet. “I don’t know whether the Quartet is beautiful or ugly,” wrote Verdi to Count Arrivabene several weeks later, “but I do know it’s a Quartet!” For a time Verdi refused to publish the Quartet or to allow other performances, though he did schedule another himself, this time for an invited audience of 100 guests at the Hôtel de Bade when he was in Paris in 1876 for a production of Aida. The Quartet was again received with great enthusiasm, which finally led Verdi to consent to its publication. He must have begun to think fondly of it, for he later indicated he would be willing to conduct a full string orchestra performance of the Quartet in London. Though many commentators have weighed in on whether it has the “proper” sort of working out expected from the Germanic tradition, or whether any operatic “weaknesses” have crept in, the fact remains that it contains wonderful melodic ideas, skillful and idiomatic writing for the strings, and—something Verdi enthusiasts delight in—an occasional hint of one or another of his operas. Verdi had studied the Classic quartets of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven with his composition teacher Vincenzo Lavigna, and it is said that he kept scores of them on a shelf above his bed. Verdi’s Quartet does not sound Classical, nor German, but it does maintain a light enough texture and enough elements of Classical form to sound retrospective. The sonata-form first movement centers around a melancholic wisp of an idea that begins in the low register of the second violin, then begins again, and is finally expanded. The process is repeated again an octave higher with the first violin. Several commentators have found hints of Aida in this theme, which then generates a great deal of activity. The second theme brings a contemplative though brief contrast in smooth four-part writing. Verdi condenses the form so that the first theme is still being developed until the recapitulation begins with the second theme. The second movement contrasts graceful, lilting outer sections with a sweet theme in longer note values and another restless, agitated section. The chromatic inflections of the outer theme give it a more Romantic than Classic flavor. Its return at the midpoint of the movement, between the two episodes, hints at rondo form, though this appearance occurs in a very remote key. The extroverted third movement, which begins at a lightning quick pace, imparts an impish off-kilter effect with its many irregular phrase lengths. The trio section has the cello “sing” an expressive melody to light pizzicato accompaniment—a section that would sound right at home in one of Verdi’s operas. His return to the opening follows traditional scherzo-trio-scherzo form. Verdi shows off all his contrapuntal prowess in the fugal finale. This is a gossamer fugue, however, not majestic nor weighty, prompting Julian Budden’s characterization as “a light-hearted Grosse Fuge,” referring to Beethoven’s monumental quartet movement. The composer himself labels it “Scherzo Fuga,” employing the term scherzo in its original meaning of a merry jest, rather than as a designation for a movement like his third, in triple meter and ternary-form. Several commentators have heard in this finale a premonition of the conclusion of Falstaff, the great comic opera of Verdi’s last years. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 3, 2016: Ying Fang, soprano; Sir James Galway and Lady Jeanne Galway, flutes; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Sheep Safely Graze, from Cantata 208 for soprano, two flutes, and continuo April 3, 2016: Ying Fang, soprano; Sir James Galway and Lady Jeanne Galway, flutes; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord Bach wrote secular cantatas for aristocratic patrons to celebrate special occasions such as birthdays, name days, and accession days, or for academic ceremonies. He wrote one of his most famous, Was mir behagt, ist nur die muntre Jagd! (What pleases me is above all the lively hunt), BWV 208, on a text by Weimar court poet Salomo Franck for the birthday of Duke Christian Weissenfels in 1713. Known as the Hunt Cantata, it contains “Schafe können sicher weiden,” the well-known aria for Pales, second soprano to Diana, goddess of the hunt. For centuries listeners have been captivated by its texture of rocking parallel thirds for two flutes—the quintessential pastoral instrument—accompanying the tender main melody, which praises Duke Christian for ruling his people as a good shepherd. © Jane Vial Jaffe Text and Translation Schafe können sicher weiden, Wo ein guter Hirte wacht. Wo Regenten wohl regieren, Kann man Ruh und Friede spüren Und was Länder glücklich macht. —Salomo Franck Sheep may safely graze where a good shepherd watches. Where rulers are governing well, one may feel rest and peace and what makes countries happy. Return to Parlance Program Notes