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May 12, 2024: Chee-Yun, violin; Alessio Bax, piano Antonín Dvořák Songs My Mother Taught Me, arr. for violin and piano May 12, 2024: Chee-Yun, violin; Alessio Bax, piano Dvořák composed his Gypsy Songs, op. 55, in the first two months of 1880 for Gustav Walter, an admirer of his songs and a tenor at the Vienna Court Opera. In Walter’s honor, he set the songs in German, in a translation made expressly for this purpose by poet Adolf Heyduk, author of the original Czech poems. Nicolaus Simrock published the songs with German and English words later that year and issued another edition the following year with the Czech added. Some were performed separately in February 1881, but it’s not clear when all seven were first performed as a group. The song cycle has become Dvořák’s most successful. The songs display a number of characteristic Gypsy features, though all of the melodies are original Dvořák. The most famous of the set is No. 4, known in the English-speaking world as “Songs My Mother Taught Me,” but whose first line is better translated “When my old mother taught me to sing.” Here Dvořák gently pits the poignant melody in 2/4 meter against the 6/8 meter of the accompaniment and masterfully alters the music of the second verse enough to create a poignant peak. His expressive simplicity adds a wonderful dimension to the poet’s tearful, loving memories of his mother, carrying on her legacy as he teaches his own child those same songs. “Songs My Mother Taught Me” has taken on a purely instrumental life as well as a vocal one, with myriad arrangements for various combinations. Renowned violinist Fritz Kreisler often played his own transcription for violin and piano, first publishing it in 1914 and making several recordings, perhaps the earliest for a ten-inch single-faced Victor disc in January 1916. —©Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

September 25, 2016: Jason Vieaux, guitar; Escher String Quartet ANTONIO VIVALDI (1678-1741) Guitar Concerto in D major, RV 93 September 25, 2016: Jason Vieaux, guitar; Escher String Quartet Vivaldi’s greatness lay in his extraordinary mastery of eighteenth-century instrumental forms and orchestration. Though he composed numerous operas, he is best known for his close to 500 concertos, of which more than 230 were written for solo violin, some 120 for a variety of other solo instruments including winds, many for more than one soloist, and approximately 60 for string orchestra without solo instrument known as ripieno concertos. Vivaldi’s own instrument was the violin, which he had studied with his father, a violinist at the famous St. Mark’s church in Venice. Nevertheless, his legendary interest in all instrumental families included his writing works for plucked string instruments. Vivaldi trained for the priesthood, taking his Holy Orders in 1703, the same year he became maestro di violino at the Pio Ospedale Pietà, an orphanage and renowned conservatory for girls in Venice. Though his later activities as a composer and impresario occasioned much travel, Vivaldi retained his association with the Pietà throughout his life and many of his instrumental works were designed for his students there. Four of Vivaldi’s works involve lute—the Concerto in D major for two violins, lute, and basso continuo; the Concerto in D minor for viola d’amore, lute, and basso continuo; and two Trio Sonatas (C major and G minor) for lute, violin, and continuo. The first, third, and fourth of these were dedicated to Bohemian Count Johann Joseph von Wrtby (1669–1734), prompting speculation as to what kind of instrument Vivaldi had in mind, since there was a great difference in Austro-German and Italian lutes. It is natural that the lute works are now most often played on the guitar, not only because the guitar sounds similar to the lute and has overshadowed it in popularity, but also because Vivaldi himself frequently suggested such exchanges. All three movements of the D major Concerto follow the “rounded” type of binary form, in which the opening music returns halfway through the second section, which had begun by introducing various keys and slight manipulations of the musical materials. The first movement is notable for its energetic three-note melodic elaborations and the propulsive repeated notes in the bass line. The lovely slow movement shows a completely different possibility for employing a singing line in dotted rhythms. Vivialdi creates a particularly poignant effect with a “halo” of upper string suspensions (harmonic tensions and relaxations), illuminated by the simple change to straight sixteenth notes from dotted sixteenths. The animated closing movement races along in the rhythm of a gigue, with only brief pauses for breath in the prevailing stream of eighth notes. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

November 15, 2015 – Jeremy Denk, piano; Stefan Jackiw, violin CÉSAR FRANCK (1822-1890) Violin Sonata in A major, M. 8 November 15, 2015 – Jeremy Denk, piano; Stefan Jackiw, violin César Franck, organist at St. Clothilde and professor of organ at the Paris Conservatory, influenced a generation of composers including d’Indy, Chausson, Duparc, and Vierne, yet was not prolific himself as a composer. He was a late achiever par excellence: he completed his only Symphony when he was sixty-six, and he composed his memorable chamber works, the Piano Quintet and Violin Sonata, just several years before, with the String Quartet closely following the Symphony. There is no telling what he might have achieved had he not died in 1890 at age sixty-seven. Franck’s concern for thematic unity led to the use of what his disciple and enthusiastic champion Vincent d’Indy called the “cyclic” principle—the use of similar thematic material in two or more movements in the same work. D’Indy related Franck’s cyclic procedures to Beethoven, who may have been his inspiration, but Franck’s structural ideas have much more in common with those of Liszt and his practice of deriving an entire work from one musical idea. The opening theme begins with a three-note “generating cell,” as d’Indy called it, that permeates the work. Almost immediately Franck shows his penchant for changing keys. As a teacher of organ, with composition mixed in, Franck grew uneasy when any student remained too long in one key—“Modulate, modulate!” he would urge, which was known to exasperate Debussy, who studied briefly in his class. Formally the first movement is based on this and another main theme that occurs only in piano interludes; the subjects alternate while passing through myriad keys. The presentation of the thematic material in this fashion and the lack of development give the movement the feel either of a prologue or of an inner movement. Originally Franck had conceived the movement in a slow tempo, but changed it to Allegretto after hearing it played by violin virtuoso Eugène Ysaÿe, to whom the work is dedicated. Full-fledged sonata form is saved for the second movement, which employs a bit of the generating cell and also introduces another theme that will return in the finale. The brilliance of this Allegro movement contrasts nicely with the poetic first movement and with the rhapsodic third movement. This Recitativo-Fantasia sounds improvisatory at the outset as Franck ruminates upon the generating cell. The final Fantasia section is dominated by another theme that will reappear in the finale and ends with an unexpected harmonic turn. The finale is remarkable for the exact imitation between the violin and piano—one of the famous examples of canonic writing in the literature—which appears four times like a rondo refrain. The intervening episodes are based on the materials of the previous movements. The Sonata was apparently given as a wedding present to Ysaÿe, who first performed it with pianist Léontine Bordes-Pène as the last work on an all-Franck concert at the Musée Moderne de Peinture in Brussels on December 16, 1886. D’Indy described that memorable late afternoon performance: It was already growing dark as the Sonata began. After the first Allegretto, the players could hardly read their music. Unfortunately, museum regulations forbade any artificial light whatever in rooms containing paintings; the mere striking of a match would have been an offense. The audience was about to be asked to leave, but, brimful with enthusiasm, they refused to budge. At this point, Ysaÿe struck his music stand with his bow, demanding, “Let’s go on!” Then, wonder of wonders, amid darkness that now rendered them virtually invisible, the two artists played the last three movements from memory with a fire and passion the more astonishing in that there was a total lack of the usual visible externals that enhance a concert performance. Music, wondrous and alone, held sovereign sway in the blackness of night. The miracle will never be forgotten by those present. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

March 24, 2019: Edward Arron, cello JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Prelude from Suite for Cello in D, BWV 1012 March 24, 2019: Edward Arron, cello Bach most likely composed his Six Suites for unaccompanied cello, BWV 1007–1012, while serving as Kapellmeister at the court of Prince Leopold in Cöthen between 1717 and 1723. Precise dating is difficult because they survive, not in Bach’s own hand, but in a copy made later in Leipzig by his second wife, Anna Magdalena Bach. It is likely that the Suites were written either for Christian Ferdinand Abel or Christian Bernhard Linigke, both accomplished cellists and Cöthen residents. Estimation of their performing abilities is, in fact, considerably enhanced by the mere idea that Bach may have written these substantial works for one or the other of them. Though appreciated in some circles, as Forkel’s 1802 Bach biography makes clear, the Suites fell into quasi-oblivion along with much of Bach’s music in the decades following his death. Bach’s celebrated biographer Philipp Spitta gave them their due for their “serene grandeur” in his monumental study (1873–80), but they remained little known by the general public until they were championed by Pablo Casals in the early twentieth century. Bach’s forward-looking exploration of the cello’s potential unfolds within the traditional configuration of the Baroque suite, which consisted of old-style dances in binary form—allemande, courante, sarabande, and gigue—with a newer-style optional dance movement, or Galanterie, interpolated before the final gigue. These interpolated dances in his cello suites consist of minuets, bourrées, or gavottes, and he prefaced each of the Suites with a Prélude. Throughout, Bach’s contrapuntal genius shows in his ability to project multiple voices and implied harmonies with what is often considered a single-line instrument. The Sixth Suite is unusual in that it was written for a five-stringed instrument. Was it the violoncello piccolo? viola pomposa? cello da spalla? In any case, the fifth string would have sounded a fifth higher than A, the highest string on a four-stringed cello. Any performance problems in playing this work on today’s four-stringed instrument—different tone quality from playing higher on the A string than Bach would normally have written, certain awkward double stops, or rapid string crossings (bariolage) requiring an open E string—have long since been solved. The extensive Prelude immediately proclaims the virtuosic nature of this Suite—the cello plays almost constant triplets except for a passage near the end when Bach employs doubled note values. Specified dynamic markings, used sparingly in Bach’s time, call for quick juxtapositions of loud and soft. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

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

PINCHAS ZUKERMAN; AMANDA FORSYTH; ANGELA CHENG A prodigious talent recognized worldwide for his artistry, Pinchas Zukerman has been an inspiration to young musicians throughout his adult life. In a continuing effort to motivate future generations of musicians through education and outreach, the renowned artist teamed up in 2002 with four protégés to form a string quintet called the Zukerman ChamberPlayers. Despite limited availability during the season, the ensemble amassed an impressive international touring schedule with close to two hundred concerts and four discs on the CBC, Altara and Sony labels. Beginning in 2011 Zukerman, along with cellist Amanda Forsyth and pianist Angela Cheng, began offering trio repertoire as an alternative to the quintet works with the ChamberPlayers. In addition to piano trios by Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Dvorak and Shostakovich, programs often include duo performances with various couplings including the Kodaly Duo. Invitations from major Festivals and venues led to the official launch of the Zukerman Trio in 2013. The ensemble has traveled around the globe to appear in Japan, China, Australia, Spain, Italy, France, Hungary, South Africa, Istanbul, Russia, and throughout the United States. Appearances at major festivals have included the BBC Proms, Edinburgh, Verbier, and Bravo! Vail. This season, the Zukerman Trio returns to Australia for performances at the Adelaide Town Hall and the Ulkaria Cultural Centre. Other highlights include appearances at Chamber Music Sedona, Chamber Music Society of Detroit and the Music Institute of Chicago. The 2017-2018 marks Mr. Pinchas Zukerman’s ninth season as Principal Guest Conductor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and his third as the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra’s Artist-in-Residence and includes over 100 concerts worldwide. He joins long-time friend Itzhak Perlman for a gala performance with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall and duo recitals in Boston, Newark, Miami, and West Palm Beach. He tours with cellist Amanda Forsyth and the Zukerman Trio, and leads the National Arts Centre Orchestra, Baltimore, San Diego, Vancouver, Nashville and New West Symphonies, among others, as soloist and conductor. Born in Tel Aviv, Pinchas Zukerman came to America in 1962, where he studied at The Juilliard School with Ivan Galamian. He has been awarded a Medal of Arts, the Isaac Stern Award for Artistic Excellence, and was appointed as the Rolex Mentor and Protégé Arts Initiative’s first instrumentalist mentor in the music discipline. A devoted and innovative pedagogue, Mr. Zukerman chairs the Pinchas Zukerman Performance Program at the Manhattan School of Music, where he has pioneered the use of distance-learning technology in the arts. He currently serves as Conductor Emeritus of the National Arts Centre Orchestra of Canada, as well as Artistic Director of its Young Artist Program. Canadian Juno Award-winning Amanda Forsyth is considered one of North America’s most dynamic cellists. Her intense richness of tone, remarkable technique and exceptional musicality combine to enthrall audiences and critics alike. From 1999-2015, Amanda Forsyth was principal cellist of the National Arts Centre Orchestra, where she appeared regularly as soloist and in chamber ensembles. She is recognized as an eminent recitalist, soloist and chamber musician appearing with leading orchestras in Canada, the United States, Europe, Asia and Australia. As a recording artist she appears on the Fanfare, Marquis, Pro Arte and CBC labels. Consistently praised for her brilliant technique, tonal beauty and superb musicianship, Canadian pianist Angela Cheng performs regularly throughout North America as a recitalist and orchestral soloist. Angela Cheng has been Gold Medalist of the Arthur Rubinstein International Piano Masters Competition, as well as the first Canadian to win the prestigious Montreal International Piano Competition. Other awards include the Canada Council’s coveted Career Development Grant and the Medal of Excellence for outstanding interpretations of Mozart from the Mozarteum in Salzburg.

March 29, 2015 – Matthew Polenzani, tenor; Ken Noda, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Adelaide, Op. 46 March 29, 2015 – Matthew Polenzani, tenor; Ken Noda, piano Having moved from Bonn in 1792, Beethoven, in his twenties, was in the process of making a name for himself as a composer and pianist in Vienna. Greatly enamored of Friedrich von Matthison’s poetry, he was especially captivated by Adelaide, which must have resonated with his own yearnings for romantic involvement with women who proved unattainable. In fact, he may have conceived his “cantata,” as he called it, for the beautiful singer Magdalena Willmann—a Bonn acquaintance who arrived in Vienna in 1794 and to whom he proposed unsuccessfully. Making many sketches, Beethoven set the poem in 1794–95 in a style that shows an Italianate-Romantic fervor, but also possibly the Classic influence of “O Tuneful Voice” by Haydn, with whom he had just been studying. Marriage proposal aside, Willman did give the first performance on April 7, 1797, and Beethoven published the song that year with a dedication to Matthison—unbeknownst to the poet. Three years later Beethoven wrote humbly to Matthison saying, “I cannot explain why I dedicated a work to you which came directly from my heart, but never acquainted you with its existence,” except that “at first I did not know where you lived” (a flimsy excuse), and also “from diffidence” (likely), and that even now he was sending the song “with a feeling of timidity.” As it turned out, Matthison greatly appreciated the song, as we know from his introduction to an 1825 edition of his collected poems: “Several composers have animated this little lyric fantasy through music; none of them, however, according to my deepest conviction, cast the text into deeper shade with his melody than the genius Ludwig van Beethoven in Vienna.” “Adelaide” became one of Beethoven’s most popular songs—a favorite especially in salons and in numerous arrangements by other composers. Beethoven’s setting is through-composed—every stanza fit with new music, even the refrain “Adelaide”—and divided into two parts, the first three stanzas at a slow tempo followed by a fast section comprising the last stanza. The dreamlike opening section suggests the beloved’s wandering with triplet motion and many key changes—influenced by Haydn’s song, perhaps?—and the rapturous closing section suggests the poet’s reuniting in death with the beloved who was unattainable in life. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 3, 2023: Brentano String Quartet; Antioch Chamber Ensemble WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Ave Verum Corpus for chamber choir and string quartet December 3, 2023: Brentano String Quartet; Antioch Chamber Ensemble Mozart’s wife Constanze once declared that church music was his favorite genre and that if she wanted to give him a “special surprise” at a family festivity, she would “secretly arrange a performance of a new church composition by Michael or Joseph Haydn.” Mozart, whose tastes in church music were as conservative as his tastes in most other music were progressive, composed church music throughout his life. He had ample opportunities in his native Salzburg while he was in the service of the Archbishop Colloredo. Fewer occasions arose for him to compose church music after he moved to Vienna, though it was there that he produced the the glorious but incomplete Mass in C minor and Requiem, several other unfinished pieces, and the present Ave verum corpus. Mozart composed this brief, exquisite motet in June 1791 for Anton Stoll, choirmaster of the local church in Baden where Constanze was taking a cure. The emotional profundity that he achieves through utmost simplicity is nothing short of genius. Text and Translation Ave verum corpus, natum de Maria Virgine, vere passum, immolatum in cruce pro homine cuius latus perforatum fluxit aqua et sanguine: esto nobis praegustatum in mortis examine. O Iesu dulcis, O Iesu pie, O Iesu, fili Mariae. Miserere mei. Amen. Hail true body, born of the Virgin Mary, who having truly suffered, was sacrificed on the cross for mankind, whose pierced side flowed water and blood: May it be for us a foretaste in the trial of death. O sweet Jesus, O pious Jesus, O Jesus, son of Mary, have mercy on me. Amen. Return to Parlance Program Notes

SUNDAY, MAY 21, 2023 AT 4 PM INSPIRED BY FRIENDSHIP BUY TICKETS MICHAEL PARLOFF, lecturer ALBERT CANO SMIT, PIANO “He established himself as an artist to watch.” — Montreal Gazette ZLATOMIR FUNG, CELLO The first American in four decades and youngest musician ever to win First Prize at the International Tchaikovsky Competition Cello Division. KEVIN ZHU, VIOLIN “Awesome Technical Command and Maturity.” — The Strad FEATURING ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS Great music has often been inspired by friendships between like-minded artists. In this multimedia event, Artistic Director Michael Parloff will illuminate the relationships that inspired a trio of masterpieces by Brahms, Bartók, and Rachmaninoff to be performed by three of today’s fastest-rising young musicians: violinist Keven Zhu, cellist Zlatomir Fung, and pianist Albert Cano Smit. Preview: In the summer of 1886, the 53-year-old Johannes Brahms fell under the spell of the young contralto Hermine Spies. Inspired by her artistry and beauty, he composed songs for them to perform together at the idyllic Swiss resort of Thun. Later that summer, he wove themes from ‘her’ songs into the fabric of his radiant Violin Sonata No. 2 in A major, Op. 100. Béla Bartók maintained a lifelong friendship with his esteemed violinist colleague Joseph Szigeti. Their fruitful partnership yielded many remarkable works, including Bartók’s First Violin Rhapsody, dedicated to his friend and compatriot Szigeti. At the onset of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s career, the renowned Peter Tchaikovsky was one his most encouraging supporters. When the 53-year-old Tchaikovsky died unexpectedly in 1893, the shocked 20-year-old composer mourned and memorialized his lost mentor in his eloquent Trio élégiaque No. 2, dedicated “In Memory of a Great Artist.” PROGRAM Johannes Brahms Sonata in A, Op. 100 for violin and piano Kevin Zhu, violin; Albert Cano Smit, piano Program Notes Béla Bartók Rhapsody No. 1, Sz 86 for cello and piano Zlatomir Fung, cello; Albert Cano Smit, piano Program Notes Sergei Rachmaninoff Trio élégiaque No. 2 in D minor, Op. 9 Kevin Zhu, violin; Zlatomir Fung, cello; Albert Cano Smit, piano Program Notes Watch Zlatomir Fung play perform Tchaikovsky’s Variations on a Rococo Theme: Watch Kevin Zhu play Weiniawski’s Fantasy on Themes from Gounod’s Faust: Watch pianist Albert Cano Smit perform Beethoven’s Sonata No. 17 in D minor, Op. 31 (“Tempest”) at the 2022 Van Cliburn Competition:

December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Concerto in D Minor after Vivaldi, BWV 596 December 5, 2021: Paul Jacobs, organ While Bach was serving as court organist for the Duke of Weimar between 1708 and 1717, he avidly absorbed the style of Vivaldi and other masters in part by transcribing their concertos for clavier or organ. This particular endeavor resulted in sixteen clavier concertos (BWV 972–987) and four organ concertos (BWV 592–594, 596; not counting 595, which is a version of 984). Vivaldi is represented nine times, Alessandro and Benedetto Marcello once each, and Torelli and Telemann once each. Several are transcribed from unknown sources and four from concertos by the young Weimar prince, Johann Ernst. All but four of the concertos are in the three-movement, fast-slow-fast configuration that would become the norm for Bach’s own concertos. Johann Ernst was actually the pupil of Bach’s court colleague Johann Gottfried Walther, and both Bach and Walther transcribed different concertos for the youth’s instruction and enjoyment. They can be dated to such a narrow time frame partly by evidence of the manuscript paper, but also because Prince Johann Ernst had just returned in July 1713 from two years in Holland, presumably having heard Italian concertos played on the organ by Jan Jacob de Graaf and bringing back collections of works by Vivaldi and others from the famous publisher Estienne Roger of Amsterdam. Bach likely made his transcriptions before the prince left Weimar in July 1714. One of the publications Johann Ernst must have brought back was Vivaldi’s L’estro armonico, op. 3, a collection of twelve concertos issued by Roger in 1711, which was to become the most influential publication of the first half of the eighteenth century. The present D minor Concerto is Bach’s transcription of Vivaldi’s Concerto grosso in D minor, RV 565, for a solo group of two violins and cello with the accompaniment of strings and cembalo, which appeared as No. 11 in the Opus 3 collection. Bach stays faithful to the substance of Vivaldi’s original, but, as would have been conventional practice, fills in the texture and harmony of the continuo and adds melodic ornamentation. His manuscript is remarkable for its specific markings as to organ registration and the use of two manuals. The first movement opens with darting canonic figuration alternating between the two manuals and static harmony that breaks loose just before three chordal measures marked “Grave.” These serve as preparation for the full-fledged fugue that concludes the movement. The lovely relatively brief slow movement flows gently in a siciliano rhythm. The final movement unfolds briskly in a free ritornello form, its main theme featuring repeated-note lines that intertwine in the “solo” voices so as to create delightful brief dissonances. Bach reused this theme in the opening chorus of his Cantata 21: “Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis,” which was first performed on June 17, 1714, shortly before Prince Johann Ernst left Weimar. The movement continues its propulsive drive to the end with the active lines in a variety of textures migrating from manual to manual. —©Jane Vial Jaffe [from Vivaldi Concerto grosso in D minor, RV 565, op. 3, no. 11 (2 vlns, vc, strings, cembalo) [ http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/b/b7/IMSLP475414-PMLP153710-Bach_596_Vivaldi_Concerto_Dm.pdf ] Bach also adapted concertos by other composers, notably Vivaldi, whose Italian concerto form exerted a lasting influence on him. He employed Vivaldi’s three-movement model—fast, slow, fast—for his concertos, as well as the ritornello form (in which a refrain alternates with episodic excursions), though adapted in his own way, and with his particular contrapuntal leanings. Was Bach aware that with his keyboard concertos he was creating an entirely new genre In about 1713–14 a decisive stylistic change came about, stimulated by Vivaldi’s concerto form. Bach’s encounter with Vivaldi’s music found immediate expression in the concertos after Vivaldi’s opp.3 and 7 ( BWV593 etc.). Features adapted from Vivaldi include the unifying use of motivic work, the motoric rhythmic character, the modulation schemes and the principle of solo–tutti contrast as means of formal articulation; the influence may be seen in the Toccatas in F and C BWV540 and 564. Apparently Bach experimented for a short while with a free, concerto-like organ form in three movements (fast–slow–fast: cf BWV545 + 529/2 and BWV541 + 528/3) but finally turned to the two-movement form, as in BWV534 and 536. Of comparable importance to the introduction of the concerto element is his tendency towards condensed motivic work, as in the Orgel-Büchlein. In 1711 Etienne Roger, the Amsterdam publisher, brought out what was to become the most influential music publication of the first half of the 18th century: Vivaldi’s L’estro armonico op.3, dedicated to Grand Prince Ferdinando of Tuscany; it comprised 12 concertos divided equally into works for one, two, and four solo violins. The change to Roger from local publishers, which several other eminent Italian composers made about the same time, reflected not only the superiority of the engraving process over the printing from type still normally used in Italy (a superiority acknowledged in Vivaldi’s preface to L’estro armonico) but also the enormous growth in demand for the latest Italian music in northern Europe. The third, fifth, and 12th concertos from op.3 (along with the concerto published individually under the title ‘The Cuckow’, RV335), became staples of the repertoire of many violinists, were arranged for a variety of instruments, and were extracted for use in violin tutors throughout the 18th century and beyond. Nowhere was the enthusiasm for Vivaldi’s concertos stronger than in Germany. Bach transcribed several of them (including five from op.3) for keyboard, and his noble patron Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar wrote concertos in Vivaldi’s style. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

February 17, 2018: Chiara String Quartet JOSEPH HAYDN (1732-1809) The Seven Last Words of Christ for string quartet February 17, 2018: Chiara String Quartet THE BACKGROUND Haydn himself described the history of this unique work in the preface to his vocal version, published in 1801: About fifteen years ago [1785] I was asked by a canon in Cádiz to write instrumental music on the Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross. It was then customary every year, during Lent, to perform an oratorio in the main church at Cádiz, to the increased effect of which the following arrangements contributed a great deal. The walls, windows, and pillars of the church were covered with black cloth, and only one large lamp, hanging in the center, illuminated the sacred darkness. At noon all the doors were closed, and the music began. After a spoken prelude, suited to the occasion, the bishop ascended the pulpit and pronounced one of the Seven Words, and delivered a reflection upon it. When it was finished, he descended from the pulpit and knelt down before the altar. This interval was filled by music. The bishop ascended and descended the pulpit a second, a third time, and so on; and each time the orchestra filled in at the end of the discourse. My composition had to be appropriate to these circumstances. The task of writing seven Adagios, each of which was to last about ten minutes, to follow one another without wearying the hearers, was not the easiest; and I soon found that I could not confine myself to the prescribed time limits. The music was originally without text, and it was printed in that form [1787]. It was only at a later period that I was induced to add the text. . . . The partiality with which this work has been received by discerning connoisseurs leads me to hope that it will not fail to make an impression on the public at large. Haydn did not travel to Spain for the first performance on Good Friday, April 6, 1787, so it is perhaps understandable that he made one salient error in a remarkably detailed description, which he presumably dictated to Georg August Griesinger, handler of his dealings with publisher Breitkopf & Härtel. (It is also possible that Griesinger crafted the preface after Haydn showed him the original commissioning letter, which has since disappeared.) The term “main church” (Hauptkirche ) does not properly signify where the performance took place, not only because there are and were many “main churches” in Cádiz, but it is misleading even within the complex of buildings that comprise the Church of the Rosario. Scholars have assumed that Haydn was simply trying to make the place of the first performance sound more imposing, but we need to follow a bit of history before his description can be appreciated for what it is—the scenario that inspired one his most remarkable and successful compositions. The original Santa Cueva (Holy Cave), underground and adjacent to Cádiz’s Church of the Rosario, began to be used in 1756 by a fraternal group for their weekly meditations on the Passion of Christ. In 1771 Jesuit priest José Sáenz de Santa María became director of the brotherhood and began conducting these meetings. Two years later, in a tangential but related connection, he helped Italian cellist Carlo Moro obtain a position in the Cádiz Cathedral orchestra and provided him with an entree to the chamber music salons of the aristocracy. (The research of cellist Carlos Prieto, who plays the Stradivari cello “ex-Piartti” once played by Moro, has helped to establish a number of pertinent facts.) Father Santa Maria invited Moro to the Good Friday ceremonies at the Santa Cueva in 1774, which took place just as described much later by Haydn and deeply impressed the cellist. In 1778 Father Santa Maria inherited his father’s vast fortune and title, Marquis de Valde-Iñigo, and immediately decided to enlarge and refurbish the Santa Cueva. He hired architect Torcuato Cayón, whom he knew from Cayón’s work on the Cádiz Cathedral, and the renovation, begun in 1781, was completed in time for Good Friday services in 1783. Cáyon had just died in January that year, so his disciple Torcuato Benjumeda continued Cáyon’s and Father Santa Maria’s much grander plans—constructing the more luxurious upper chapel of the Santa Cueva between 1793 and 1796 and refurbishing the Church of the Rosario, also in 1793. Before those later projects were carried out, however, Father Santa Maria determined that his Passion ceremonies in the Santa Cueva would be greatly enhanced by the addition of music. The tradition of a noon to three o’clock meditation on the Seven Last Words is said to have originated in Peru with Jesuit priest Francisco del Castillo, and Father Santa Maria may have gotten the idea of adding music from the 1757 posthumous publication in Seville of another Peruvian Jesuit, Alonso Messia Bedoya. Father Santa Maria always aimed high and decided to commission the most famous composer of the time, Joseph Haydn, bypassing Moro’s suggestion of an Italian compatriot, Luigi Boccherini, who was living in Spain. The idea of approaching Haydn seemed daunting to Moro, but Father Santa Maria turned to fellow brotherhood member Francisco de Paula María de Micón, marquis of Méritos, and maestro di capilla of the Cádiz Cathedral, whom Moro knew from his work there and from playing at his chamber-music soirees—and with whom he especially enjoyed speaking Italian. More important, the Marquis of Méritos was a friend of Haydn’s. In 1785 the Micón wrote a commissioning letter to Haydn full of such detail that Haydn not only accepted the commission but knew what shape it would take and what the ethos and effect of his music should be. With their correspondence lost, we can only surmise that the marquis described the ceremonies just as Haydn laid them out in his preface, and that the ceremonies took place in the same way every year, just as Moro had witnessed in 1784. Further, one of Haydn’s nephews wrote that “the composition owed more to the explanation that he had received in writing from Sr. de Micón than to his own creation because in its own unique fashion, it led him through every step of the way, to the point that, while reading the instructions from Spain, it seemed as though he was actually reading the music.” It might be added, however, that Haydn’s mention of the difficulty of the task was borne out by his friend Abbé Stadler, who was with him when he received the commission. In his autobiography, corroborated by publisher Vincent Novello and his wife, Stadler helped him over a seeming quandary about how to proceed by suggesting the he simply write melodies as if he were fitting them to the first phrase of text in his mind. Before turning to the music itself, however, we might touch on one further possibility for Haydn’s 1801 use of the term “main church,” which has led many to suppose that the first performance took place in the beautiful upper Oratory, which had not even been built at the time of the first performance in the renovated underground Santa Cueva. Among many elaborate features—Ionic columns of jasper, ornate altar of silver and jasper, patterned marble floor—the upper Oratory boasts numerous sculptures, sculptured reliefs, and paintings, in particular, three paintings by Goya: The Last Supper , The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes , and The Guest at the Wedding . Because plans for the upper Oratory were already in the works by 1785, it is entirely possible that the commissioning letter to Haydn contained many details that referred to the envisioned project (although Goya had not yet been specifically commissioned) as well as giving the description of the customary Good Friday ceremonies. The thread of the envisioned plans and how Haydn may have been influenced continues with another individual who might have played some role in Father Santa Maria’s conception of combining art and music in his Santa Cueva project. Sebastián Martínez, collector of art and literature, lived near the site and as a friend of Goya drew up the commission for his paintings for the upper oratory. Martínez owned an engraving of Poussin’s famous painting the Eucharist , which Goya would have seen while staying with him and which many commentators have described as one of the influences for Goya’s The Last Supper in the upper Oratory. As scholar Thomas Tolley suggests, Martínez, as a member of high society who was also interested in the relationship between painting and music, would have also revered Haydn and may have helped in the selecting and commissioning process. He and the others involved in commissioning may have even known the story of Haydn’s Farewell Symphony and hence his fascination with lighting effects, which may have helped to solidify their choice. In any case, it would be easy to imagine the commissioning letter including a copy of Poussin’s painting, which is strikingly similar to Haydn’s description of the “sacred darkness” illuminated by “only one large lamp, hanging in the center.” It is fascinating to think that Goya may in turn have even been influenced by a Good Friday performance of Haydn’s music in the underground Santa Cueva before completing his commission in the upper Oratory. In a remarkable tradition, The Seven Last Words has been performed at the Santa Cueva every Good Friday since 1787. Father Santa Maria made sure Haydn received the honorarium he had been promised, but in a manner almost as unusual as the work itself. One day Haydn received a small box from Cádiz, which he opened only to find a chocolate cake. Highly incensed, Haydn cut into it and found it filled with gold pieces. THE MUSICAL BACKGROUND Composed in 1786 and possibly completed in early 1787, the work originally bore the title Musica instrumentale sopra le 7 ultime parole del nostro Redentore in croce, ossiano 7 sonate con un’introduzione ed al fine un terremoto (Instrumental music on the 7 last words of our Redeemer on the cross, 7 sonatas with an introduction and at the end an earthquake), scored for pairs of flutes, oboes, and bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, timpani, and strings. We know from a later article, published around the time of a 1791 London performance, that at the time Haydn corresponded with the Bishop of Cádiz asking if he could exceed the ten-minute limit occasionally, to which the Bishop responded that he should do as he wished and he (the bishop) would shorten his sermons accordingly. (That correspondence is also unfortunately lost.) As soon as the work was completed, Haydn was already pleased with it and had it performed in Vienna on March 26 and Bonn on March 30, 1787, which performances actually predate the Cádiz performance by a few days. Haydn was taken to task by some but praised by others for his daring in expressing the Seven Last Words by purely instrumental music. He had also arranged the work in the present version for string quartet by February 14, 1787, and authorized a keyboard reduction. Then in 1794 he attended a performance in Passau for which his music had been fit with words by Joseph Friebert based on Christ’s last words from the four Gospels. Though Haydn complimented Friebert, he told a student that “could have written the vocal parts better,” and, with the help of Baron Gottfried van Swieten who adapted Freibert’s text, Haydn produced his own vocal version in 1795–96, inserting a new number for winds between the fourth and fifth sonatas, and adding clarinets, contrabassoon, and two trombones to the orchestra while subtracting two horns. This version, Die Sieben letzten Worte unseres Erlösers am Kreuze , was first perfromed in Vienna on March 26 and 27, 1796. Haydn’s instrumental original unfolds as follows, each movement, including the introduction and the earthquake, in sonata form: Introduzione, D minor, Maestoso ed Adagio: Haydn makes the most of the contrast between dramatic angular motives in dotted rhythm and contrasting tender passages with pulsing repeated notes. Sonata I: “Pater, dimitte illis, quia nesciunt, quid faciunt” (Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do), B-flat major, Largo: Sounding sweetly contrasting to the minor-mode introduction, this movement incorporates the distinct pulsing first heard there, and does switch to the minor mode for expressive purposes. Especially striking is the chromatic treatment for Haydn’s at that time imagined words “the blood of the lamb.” Sonata II: “Hodie mecum eris in Paradiso” (Today you will be with me in paradise), C minor ending in C major, Grave e cantabile: After the pensive opening and in the reprise, the switch to a singing melody in major over arpeggiated accompaniment represents the reward of paradise. Listeners may catch a foreshadow of the hymn (slow movement) of Haydn’s Emperor Quartet. Sonata III: “Mulier, ecce filius tuus” (Woman, behold your son), E major, Grave: Beginning with three simple repeated chords, Haydn’s simple seraphic setting represents the text, “Woman, behold thy son.” Scholar Daniel Heartz points out that Haydn had used similar music for his Salve regina in the same key of 1756. Sonata IV: “Deus meus, Deus meus, utquid dereliquisti me?” (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?), F minor, Largo: Solemnity and lamenting begins to predominate with Haydn’s setting for the words “My God, why have you forsaken me?” in the far removed key of F minor. Haydn had also used this dark key for his Symphony nicknamed “La Passione” in 1768. Sonata V: “Sitio” (I thirst), A major, Adagio: This movement begins with an innocent-sounding melody over “dry” pizzicato accompaniment, which makes the entrance of the raging music for the imagined text, “I thirst,” so striking for its expression of torment. Sonata VI: “Consummatum est” (It is finished), G minor, ending G major, Lento: Haydn was particularly proud of this movement, in which he represents Jesus crying to God “In a loud voice”—five fortissimo chords—“It is finished.” Haydn later uses the motive for a bass line accompaniment to a lovely violin melody in the major. Sonata VII: “In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum” (Into your hands, Father, I commit my spirit), E-flat major, Largo: Haydn represents Christ’s yielding his spirit to God’s hand in with a noble first theme. The use of mutes gives the impression of quiet acceptance and the quiet ending suggests Christ’s earthly life being over. Il terremoto, C minor, Presto e con tutta la forza: Without pause Haydn unleashes the fury of the earthquake following Christ’s crucifixion, described in Matthew 27:51: “And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent.” Haydn’s depiction in raging unisons, darting gestures, and unsettling cross rhythms provides supreme if brief contrast to all the contemplation that has gone before. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes