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April 2, 2023: PAUL WATKINS, CELLO; BORIS BERMAN, PIANO JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Sonata in E minor for cello and piano, Op. 38 April 2, 2023: PAUL WATKINS, CELLO; BORIS BERMAN, PIANO In 1862 Brahms composed three movements of a cello sonata—his first duo sonata. He put it aside, however, until June 1865 when he added a fugal finale to complete the E minor Sonata for amateur cellist Josef Gänsbacher, who had helped secure his appointment as director of the Vienna Singakademie for the 1863–64 season. At the time Gänbacher was practicing law and giving piano and singing lessons, but eventually devoted himself exclusively to teaching singing. By 1866, when Brahms published the piece, he had deleted the Adagio movement, leaving a three-movement work of curious proportions—an expansive first movement, a minuet-like movement with the air of a valse triste (sad waltz), and a powerful fugal closing movement. A manuscript of the deleted slow movement apparently existed until the 1930s, unlike the typical scenario in which Brahms destroyed his discarded movements. Beloved as a three-movement work, the E minor Sonata takes up the cello-piano tradition of Beethoven, paying homage to the earlier master’s last cello sonata (D major, op. 102, no. 2) by including a fugue as its finale. But Brahms also looks back even further to Bach, whom he also revered greatly. Gänsbacher tells of visiting Brahms after the death of his mother in 1865 and finding him sobbing and playing Bach at the piano—neither of which activity he interrupted despite Gänsbacher’s presence. As pointed out by many commentators, Brahms’s fugue subject bears a striking similarity to Contrapunctus 13 from Bach’s celebrated Art of Fugue. Some have also suggested an additional but more tenuous link between Brahms’s first movement and Bach’s Contrapuntus 3. Naturally Brahms creates his own rich musical language despite his indebtedness to his predecessors. The remarkable, continually evolving main theme of his first movement rises out of the depths, showing off the cello’s lowest register before highlighting the upper register with impassioned lyricism. The second theme is remarkable for its close imitation between cello and piano, as is the exposition’s closing theme for its consolatory effect aided by a shift to the major mode and rocking accompaniment. In the Allegretto quasi Menuetto, the two outer sections project a sad kind of whimsy, something Mahler evoked when he came to write the second movement of his Second Symphony. In the center Brahms provides a flowing trio full of Romantic arpeggios, poignant lyricism, and gentle hesitations. Brahms shatters the gentle mood with the jagged leaping figure and ensuing bustle that constitutes his fugue subject. He then proceeds by ingeniously combining elements of fugue and sonata form, introducing a lovely flowing second theme that gives respite at critical junctures from the contrapuntal intricacies of his fugal material. The grand last appearance of the fugue subject launches a coda that hurtles to its exhilarating conclusion at breakneck speed. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 4, 2022 – The Sitkovetsky Trio LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Allegretto WoO 39 December 4, 2022 – The Sitkovetsky Trio Beethoven made his final statement in the piano trio genre with this single-movement Allegretto in B-flat major. He inscribed his manuscript score: “Vienna, June 26, 1812: for my little friend Maxe Brentano, to encourage her in her piano playing.” Maximiliane Brentano was the ten-year-old daughter of Beethoven’s dear friends Antonie and Franz Brentano. The composer even included his own suggestions for fingerings to aid his little friend. If Maynard Solomon’s convincing evidence is accepted, Maxe’s mother Antonie was Beethoven’s “Immortal Beloved,” the woman to whom Beethoven wrote his famous letter less than two weeks after completing the little Trio. With great anguish, Beethoven nobly resolved not to accept the high-society married woman’s offer to leave her husband, thereby preserving—if we adopt Solomon’s reasoning—his friendship with the family. Nine years later he dedicated his wonderful Piano Sonata in E major, op. 109, to Maximiliane, who must have kept up her piano studies. The sonata-form Allegretto contrasts a busy, cheerful main theme, played by the piano to chordal string accompaniment, with a simple second theme marked by a characteristic dotted rhythm that is echoed alternately by the strings. The development takes an excursion to D major, which Beethoven even notates in the key signature. The slightly varied recapitulation leads to a relatively substantial coda, which comes to a sprightly conclusion. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 18, 2016: Mariko Anraku, harp; Emmanuel Ceysson, harp CLAUDE DEBUSSY (1862-1918) Selections from Suite bergamasque, arranged for two harps December 18, 2016: Mariko Anraku, harp; Emmanuel Ceysson, harp Debussy was enchanted by the poetry of Paul Verlaine. Around 1890 he began composing a series of piano pieces that would become his Suite bergamasque , titled after a line of Verlaine’s famous poem Clair de lune . The poem had appeared in an 1869 collection entitled Fêtes galantes , which had been inspired by the paintings of Watteau and his followers. In these paintings, idealized landscapes of parks and gardens in the twilight are often populated by revelers in costumes of the tragic-comic characters of the commedia dell-arte—Harlequin, Pierrot, Colombine, and company—a form of theater that began in sixteenth-century Italy. Verlaine’s collection also provided texts for a number of Debussy’s songs before he returned to the piano pieces for revision and publication as Suite bergamasque in 1905. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the word bergamasque (or bergomask) referred to a fantasia or set of instrumental variations based on a folk dance—Shakespeare’s rustic characters in A Midsummer Night’s Dream , for example, dance a bergomask. Presumably that folk dance had some connection with the Bergamo district in northern Italy. Further, the character of the Harlequin is described as a mischievous servant from Bergamo. By Verlaine’s and Debussy’s time there was no evident connection with the bergomask’s traditional tune or harmonic scheme, but the association with a folk dance and the commedia dell’arte lingered. Debussy’s Suite bergamasque consists of four movements, Prélude, Menuet, Clair de lune, and Passepied, of which we hear I, III, and IV, arranged for two harps by Matthieu Martin. The Prélude opens with unhurried nobility, achieving Debussy’s aim of sounding improvisatory. This introductory idea leads to a stronger, chordally moving main theme, followed by a delicately textured second theme. The middle section develops both themes, with a kind of recapitulation that deals only with the opening introductory idea and the stronger main theme. The outline of sonata form, however, remains secondary to the lovely sense of improvisation or “Impressionism” that Debussy creates. Originally titled “Promenade sentimentale” after another Verlaine poem, the third piece became Clair de lune (Moonlight) when Debussy polished the Suite bergamasque for publication in 1905. Since then the piece has taken on a life of its own, having become extraordinarily popular and, sad to say, trivialized. Its luminous qualities and inspired construction, however, should inspire listeners to look beyond its familiarity. That amazing opening—how it just hangs there then gently descends as silvery light from the moon—is pure genius. Its rhythmic freedom gives the feeling of floating as does the delay of the anchoring pitch of the home key. Debussy, like his contemporary Ravel, was justly famous for his water imagery. The rippling central section no doubt responds to the line in Verlaine’s poem describing the moonlight bringing sobs of ecstasy to the fountains. The ending is magical—Debussy fragments the theme as moonlight would be broken up by shadows and allows it to die away in a haunting final cadence. A passepied was a French court dance of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in triple time, much like a minuet but faster, with fairly constant motion in eighth- or sixteenth-notes. For his Passepied, Debussy opted instead for a moderate tempo and 4/4 meter, perhaps reflecting his original title, Pavane, which refers to a stately court dance. He most likely changed the name after deciding that his piece was too active for a Pavane, but also to avoid comparison with Fauré’s influential Pavane, op. 50. It seems he was not worried about comparison with another source of inspiration—the Passepied from Delibes’s pastiche of “ancient” dances for Le roi s’amuse , which had long been available in piano transcription. Whatever the case, Debussy’s piece, unfolding in a kind of modified rondo form, shows a fascinating mix of the constant motion of a passepied and a profusion of contrasting melodies, all bathed in a kind of modal sonority that hints at older times while proclaiming Debussy’s Impressionistic orientation. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) S'altro che lagrime from La clemenza di Tito, K. 621 Zeffirettti lusinghieri from Idomeneo, K. 366 February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano In July 1791 Mozart received a “last-minute” commission to compose an opera to celebrate Leopold II’s coronation as King of Bohemia. He had to work quickly in order to complete La clemenza di Tito (The clemency of Titus) by September 6, when it would open at the National Theatre in Prague. Having begun the work in Vienna in late July, Mozart arrived in Prague on August 28 and completed the opera only the day before it opened. After modest successes, La clemenza di Tito experienced a triumphant closing night, which was reported to Mozart back in Vienna on September 30, the day of the premiere of Die Zauberflöte. More than forty composers had previously set Pietro Metastasio’s libretto for La clemenza di Tito, beginning with Caldara in 1734. For Mozart’s purposes the libretto was adapted by Caterino Mazzolà—“reduced to a proper opera” as Mozart put it—who shortened it by one-third and manipulated almost all of Metastasio’s texts so that there would be ensembles and finales in addition to solo arias. The plot, typical of opera seria (eighteenth-century dramatic opera, usually on a classical subject), concerns Titus (Tito), benevolent Roman emperor, whose plan to marry someone other than Vitellia, daughter of the deposed emperor, causes her to plot his demise. She enlists Sextus (Sesto)—who is Tito’s friend but hopelessly in love with her—to burn down the entire city of Rome and thus roast Tito alive. Meanwhile, Tito’s choice of consort has shifted for political reasons from Berenice to Servilia, Sesto’s sister, but when he learns that Servilia and his friend Annio are in love he declares he will not come between them. He now chooses Vitellia, but she doesn’t find out until it is too late to stop the deadly plot. Miraculously, Tito survives the fire, but Sesto is condemned to death for treason. Vitellia, unable to bear the guilt, confesses her part in the scheme, and Tito, who has granted Sesto clemency, now does the same for Vitellia. “S’altro che lagrime” (If nothing more than tears), a gentle minuet-like arietta, is sung by Servilia in Act II as she comes upon Vitellia crying and warns her that her tears are not enough to save Sesto from death. Servilia doesn’t realize that Vitellia is crying in guilty anguish over having brought about his death sentence. Stepping back in time to Mozart’s first big break in opera, in the summer of 1780 he received a commission to write an opera seria for the Electoral Court of Munich. Elector Karl Theodor’s establishment, having recently moved there from Mannheim, boasted one of the finest opera companies and probably the finest orchestra in Europe. Mozart had encountered many of these musicians in Mannheim during his travels several years earlier and he expended his greatest efforts to write a worthy opera. Salzburg cleric Giovanni Battista Varesco condensed Antoine Danchet’s earlier five-act libretto, Idomenée, into three acts, which Mozart—already exhibiting his exceptional dramatic sense of timing and theatrical effect—had to prune severely. Mozart wrote some of his most glorious music for Idomeneo, rè di Creta (Idomeneus, king of Crete), and the premiere, which Mozart conducted in Munich on January 29, 1781, was well received. Yet despite Mozart’s considerable innovations, opera seria was a dying art form, and Idomeneo disappeared from the repertoire, remaining unappreciated until the twentieth century. The story of Idomeneus, the Greek chieftain returning home after the Trojan war, parallels the Biblical story of Jephtha: in return for his deliverance from a horrendous storm, he vows to Poseidon that he will sacrifice the first living being he encounters when he goes ashore, only to find that this is his own son Idamantes. In Italian fashion, the libretto averts a tragic ending by having Poseidon decree that Idomeneus abdicate his throne in favor of Idamantes, who is to marry Ilia. She is the one he loves, though she had earlier given him up to her rival Electra as Idomeneus maneuvered to avoid sacrificing his son. Ilia sings “Zeffiretti lusinghieri” (Gently caressing zephyrs) at the outset of Act III, tenderly, exquisitely asking the wind to carry her thoughts of love to Idamantes. Graceful fast notes represent her message flying on the breeze. The middle section in this ternary form brings musical contrast, though it expresses the same basic idea even if it is now the plants and flowers that are to relay her love. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations SERVILIA S’altro che lagrime Per lui non tenti, Tutto il tuo piangere Non gioverà. A questa inutile pietà che senti oh, quanto è simile la crudeltà. S’altro, etc. —Pietro Metastasio ILIA Zeffiretti lusinghieri, deh volate al mio tesoro, e gli dite ch’io l’adoro, che mi serbi il cor fedel. E voi piante, e fior sinceri, che ora innaffia il pianto amaro, dite a lui che amor più raro Mai vedeste sotto al ciel. Zeffiretti lusinghieri, etc. —Giovanni Battista Varesco after Antoine Danchet SERVILIA If nothing but tears you expend on him, all your weeping will not help. To this useless pity that you feel, oh how similar cruelty is. If nothing, etc. ILIA Gentle zephyrs, oh fly to my beloved, and tell him I adore him, and to keep his heart true to me. And you plants and tender flowers, which my bitter tears now water, tell him that no rarer love you have ever seen beneath the sky. Gentle zephyrs, etc. Return to Parlance Program Notes

PETER FRANCIS JAMES, NARRATOR Peter Francis James is an acclaimed American actor and voice-over artist whose career spans stage, screen, and television. He made his professional debut in 1979 in Coriolanus , appearing alongside Earle Hyman and Morgan Freeman. From 2000 to 2020, he taught Shakespeare at the Yale School of Drama, nurturing the next generation of classical actors. James is a two-time Obie Award winner: first for his performance as Claire in Jean Genet’s The Maids , and again for his portrayal of Colin Powell in David Hare’s Stuff Happens , which also earned him Drama Desk and Lucille Lortel Awards. He played Oscar opposite Dame Maggie Smith in Edward Albee’s The Lady from Dubuque at London’s Theatre Royal Haymarket, later reprising the role opposite Jane Alexander in New York. On television, James is widely recognized for his role as Raymond Parks in The Rosa Parks Story (2002), and for his recurring performances as Judge Kevin Beck on Law & Order: SVU and as Jahfree Neema in HBO’s Oz . Other TV credits include Gossip Girl , Third Watch , Law & Order , Criminal Intent , and Guiding Light , where he played Clayton Boudreau. His film and television movie appearances include Double Platinum , Long Day’s Journey into Night (1982), and Hamlet (1990), directed by Kevin Kline. He portrayed Thurgood Marshall in PBS’s American Experience: Simple Justice (1993) and played Isaac Coles in the miniseries The Wedding (1998).

MICHELLE KIM, VIOLIN Violinist Michelle Kim has been Assistant Concertmaster (The William Petschek Family Chair) of the New York Philharmonic since 2001. She has performed as soloist with orchestras such as the New York Philharmonic, New Jersey Philharmonic, Santa Barbara Chamber Orchestra, and Pacific Symphony. An active chamber musician, Ms. Kim has collaborated with violinists Cho-Liang Lin, Christian Tetzlaff, and Pinchas Zukerman; cellists Mstislav Rostropovich, Lynn Harrell, and Gary Hoffman; and pianists Lang Lang and Yefim Bronfman. She has performed at the Santa Fe Chamber Music, La Jolla Chamber Music, Strings in the Mountain, and Bravo! Vail Valley Music festivals. She has also served as the first violinist of the Rossetti String Quartet, and was a Sterne Virtuoso Artist at Skidmore College in 2007-08. A former Presidential Scholar, Ms. Kim attended the University of Southern California’s Thornton School of Music as a Starling Foundation scholarship recipient. She has been a member of the faculty at the USC Thornton School of Music; Colburn School of Performing Arts; and University of California, Santa Barbara. Michelle Kim currently teaches at the Mannes College of Music.

September 26, 2021: Paul Neubauer, viola; Arnaud Sussmann, viola; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; Joel Noyes, cello; David J. Grossman, bass; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 in B-flat major, BWV 1051 September 26, 2021: Paul Neubauer, viola; Arnaud Sussmann, viola; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; Joel Noyes, cello; David J. Grossman, bass; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord In March 1719, when Bach was in Berlin to collect the new harpsichord made for Cöthen by court instrument maker Michael Mietke, he had occasion to play for Margrave Christian Ludwig of Brandenburg. The meeting spurred an invitation from the Margrave for Bach to send him some compositions. The works that he sent probably originated in Weimar even before Bach’s move to Cöthen in 1717, but it took yet another two years for him to complete, compile, and submit his “Six concerts avec plusieurs instruments” (Six concertos with several instruments). He dedicated the 1721 manuscript to the Margrave, saying: As I had a couple of years ago the pleasure of appearing before Your Royal Highness . . . and as I noticed then that Your Highness took some pleasure in the small talents that Heaven has given me for Music, and as in taking leave of Your Royal Highness, Your Highness deigned to honor me with the command to send Your Highness some pieces of my composition: I have then in accordance with Your Highness’s most gracious orders taken the liberty of rendering my most humble duty to Your Royal Highness with the present Concertos, which I have adapted to several instruments. No record exists of the Margrave of Brandenburg ever using the scores, ever sending Bach a fee, or ever thanking him. Legend has it that a lack of acknowledgment may have stemmed from the Margrave’s instrumental resources not matching those of Cöthen or Weimar, thus rendering the pieces unperformable at his establishment. It is certainly true that Bach used unprecedented and different scoring in each of the individual works, treating the collection like an “Art of the Concerto Grosso” and thus was not aiming to match any specific establishment’s resources. The manuscript eventually became the property of the state library in Berlin, remaining unpublished until the Bach revival in the nineteenth century. In 1880 Philipp Spitta, Bach’s famous biographer, coined the term “Brandenburg Concertos,” which has been used ever since for the beloved works. Bach empoyed the simple yet flexible plan for the eighteenth-century concerto grosso developed by Torelli and Corelli, standardized by Vivaldi—a small solo group (the concertino) alternating with the full ensemble (ripieno or tutti), typically in three movements: fast, slow, fast. The Brandenburg Concertos offer a wide spectrum of innovative instrumental schemes and combinations and a great variety in treatment of form. Nos. 1, 3, and 6 use instrumental forces that are fairly balance in number, with No. 1 containing some violino piccolo solos and No. 6 featuring two violas. Nos. 2, 4 and 5 contrast a small concertino with a large ripieno throughout, with different instruments featured in each case. In the Sixth Concerto Bach uses only strings and continuo, as in the Third. In this case, however, he creates a new atmosphere of somewhat darker colors by dispensing with violins. (Could Brahms have been following his lead in his A major Serenade?) The concertino is made up of two violas (originally viole da braccio), two violas da gamba (now usually played on cello), and cello. The solo violas provide an especially mellow sound that contributes to this Concerto’s unique sonority. Perhaps the most striking feature of the work, other than scoring, is the incredible contrapuntal writing in the first movement. The violas enter in canon separated by a time interval of only two sixteenth notes. The second movement is a poignant Adagio ma non troppo, followed by the energetic final movement in da capo form (A-B-A), made lively by syncopations and a bubbly mood of optimism. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

June 19, 2022 – Amanda Forsyth; Shai Wosner, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Cello Sonata in G minor, Op. 5, No. 2 June 19, 2022 – Amanda Forsyth; Shai Wosner, piano Beethoven composed his first two cello sonatas in the early summer of 1796 while visiting the Berlin court of King Friedrich Wilhelm II, who was himself an amateur cellist. Dedicated to the king, the sonatas were premiered by the composer at the piano with cello virtuoso Jean-Louis Duport—not to be confused with his brother Jean-Pierre, a less famous cello virtuoso who was already in the employ of the king. Ferdinand Ries, Beethoven’s student and biographer, reported that “on his departure he received a gold snuffbox filled with Louis d’ors. Beethoven declared with pride that it was not an ordinary snuffbox, but such a one as it might have been customary to give to an ambassador.” Despite their being “early” works, the Opus 5 Cello Sonatas, like the early trios and piano sonatas, show the hand of a full-fledged master. The original title—“two grand sonatas for piano and obbligato cello”—reflects the eighteenth-century tradition in which the keyboard predominated and the second instrument played an accompanying role. Though the keyboard is indeed prominent in these works, Beethoven often made it an equal partner, thus forging a new realm for the cello sonata far beyond what scholar Lewis Lockwood called “wallpaper sonatas” of such cellist-composers as Luigi Boccherini. Inspired in part by Mozart’s violin sonatas, Beethoven now showed off the cello in all of its registers and as a match for the piano’s wide range of expression. This expansion of the cello’s role had much to do with the Duports—in particular, the proficiency and personality of Jean-Luis, who had opened up a new era of technical achievement in his playing and teaching of the instrument. Both of the Opus 5 Sonatas follow the same two-movement layout, possibly modeled after Mozart’s C major Violin Sonata, K. 303. Their first movements are preceded by a long, slow introduction, which makes a slow movement unnecessary, and each concludes with a merry rondo finale to finish off the form. The extensive introduction of the G minor Sonata presents a many-faceted drama with plots and subplots that include forceful pronouncements, plentiful dotted rhythms, lyrical yearning lines, and judicious uses of silence near the end to build suspense for the main Allegro section. He generously presents two ideas in both of the exposition’s first and second theme groups, all of which he treats virtuosically in the development section, where he even introduces a lightly dancing new theme. Following his recapitulation he concludes with a turbulent coda. This is one of Beethoven’s most extended sonata movements—it amounts to more than five hundred measures even without the prescribed repeat of the exposition and of the development and recapitulation—and yet its coherence is remarkable. The bubbly rondo refrain of the second and final movement banishes the dark mood. It begins unexpectedly in C major rather than G major, a trick the composer liked enough to repeat for the last movement of his G major Piano Concerto. This catchy refrain encompasses three ideas, all of which Beethoven returns to and varies in this ingenious combination of rondo, variation, and ternary form. The refrain alternates with equally inspired episodes: the first sweet then poignant as it turns to the minor mode and the second a much extended episode in the C major key of the opening. The entire refrain-episode-refrain succession of the beginning returns after this substantial middle episode, and so the rondo form (A-B-A | C | A-B-A) gives the overall impression of a simpler three-part form. Beethoven adds a coda that pauses the forward momentum with a new alternately soft and forthright melodic phrase before the whirlwind conclusion. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

September 26, 2021: Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord LUIGI BOCCHERINI (1743-1805) Cello Sonata No. 6 in A major, G. 4 September 26, 2021: Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Sihao He, cello; Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord Boccherini achieved widespread recognition in his day both as a cellist and as an extremely prolific composer primarily of chamber music. He wrote more than 100 string quintets, close to 100 string quartets, and some 150 other chamber works, including more than thirty cello sonatas. He was and is especially celebrated for his string quintets in the two-violin, viola, two-cello configuration, contributing more to the genre than any other composer in history. The many gaps in our knowledge of Boccherini’s life and works were widened by the destruction of many of his manuscripts and his own thematic catalog in 1936 in Madrid during the Spanish Civil War—he had spent much of his life as a court composer in Madrid. Furthermore, some information long held to be true has been cast into doubt. During the years 1787 to 1796, for instance, he was assumed to have been in Prussia on the strength of an appointment there and a letter by him from Breslau. Since the letter now appears unauthentic and there is no record of him at the Prussian court, he probably remained in Spain, living on his royal pension and earning a Prussian salary by fulfilling his obligations long distance. He did compose for King Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia, the same cello-playing king for whom Mozart and Haydn wrote quartets and Beethoven wrote sonatas. The renown Boccherini enjoyed in his prime is attested to by the remarks of the usually cautious Charles Burney, famed eighteenth-century historian, who rated him “among the greatest masters who have ever written for the violin or violoncello,” placing him second only to Haydn. The taste for Boccherini’s elegant, galant style waned, however, and he died in Madrid in poverty. The latter half of the twentieth century has witnessed a periodic resurgence of interest in his music: Gérard’s thematic catalog was published in 1969, a complete edition was begun in the 1970s, and a manuscript containing eighteen cello sonatas—three hitherto unknown—was discovered in 1982; yet much of his music awaits rediscovery. The cello sonatas present an interesting set of problems. Was the “solo” part once intended for violin? The probable first edition appeared in that form; most evidence, however, points to the solo part having been written for cello. Was the accompanying part written for cello or bass? Furthermore, since the part is unfigured, should it really be realized at the keyboard? Many such realizations have been made and performances usually include keyboard. The present Sonata in A major, one of the best known, is called No. 6 because it appeared last in a group of six Boccherini sonatas published in the 1770s in both violin and cello versions. The same grouping of six was retained 100 years later when Alfredo Piatti reedited the sonatas in a cello and piano version for the publisher Ricordi, and in subsequent editions. A second version of the second movement remained unknown as did most of the other cello sonatas. A third movement, Affettuoso, also exists, but is frequently omitted in performance. Additional confusion besets the order of the movements. Most of the manuscripts and printed editions follow the order Adagio, Allegro moderato, Affettuoso, but the manuscript that Gérard used for his thematic catalog of Boccherini’s works reverses the order of the first two movements. The songful, highly ornamented Adagio outlines the simplest of binary forms in which the first half moves from the tonic key to the dominant and the second returns to the tonic. It is based on one theme, which receives a slight development at the beginning of the second half, but which—in a kind of elegant asymmetry—does not return at the close. The Allegro moderato again takes up binary form, with more suggestion of early sonata form, but demonstrating Boccherini’s characteristic structural flexibility. Such freedom is shown in the “recapitulation,” which contains no return to the first theme (that beginning after the introductory four bars), but rather to subsequent “exposition” material. Interestingly enough the little-known second version of this movement does contain a return of the first theme in the “recapitulation,” adding a certain formal stability but forfeiting some of the charming episodic ideas. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

LYSANDER PIANO TRIO Itamar Zorman, Violin
 Michael Katz, Cello
 Liza Stepanova, Piano The Lysander Piano Trio has been praised by The Strad for its “incredible ensemble, passionate playing, articulate and imaginative ideas and wide palette of colors” and by The Washington Post for “an uncommon degree of heart-on-the-sleeve emotional frankness” and “vivid engagement carried by soaring, ripely Romantic playing.” The group has developed a reputation for exciting programming, finding creative ways to connect well-known masterworks with pieces by lesser-known and underrepresented composers, discovering common threads across cultures and times. The Trio’s debut recording After A Dream (CAG Records) was acclaimed by The New York Times for its “polished and spirited interpretations.” Its most recent album, Mirrors, featuring world-premiere recordings of six works the ensemble has commissioned or premiered, was released in early 2021 by First Hand Records . In the 2023-24 season, the Trio performs at series around the US, Canada, and Israel including their debuts at Parlance Chamber Concerts, Feldman Chamber Music Society, Chamber Music Society of Williamsburg, Northeast Kingdom Classical Series, Blue Hill Concert Association, University of Idaho's Auditorium Chamber Music Series, Nelson Overture Concerts Society, Kelowna Chamber Concert Association, and Israel's Keshet Eilon. In the spring of 2023, the Lysander "brought the house down" (Dumbarton Concerts) with its new tango-infused collaboration with Argentine bandoneon player and composer JP Jofre and looks forward to continuing the collaboration in upcoming seasons. Highlights of the past few seasons include a return engagement at Atlanta’s premier chamber music series at Spivey Hall, a multi-concert residency with Chamber Music Tulsa, a weeklong series of performances and educational activities at New Orleans’s Crescent City Chamber Music Festival, and appearances with Massachusetts’ Valley Classical Concerts, Chamber Music Raleigh, Lee University's Presidential Concert Series, Concerts International Memphis, Sanibel Music Festival, Florida Keys Concert Association, and Shelter Island Friends of Music, among others. In addition, the ensemble performed in concerts and residencies across the United States as a featured touring group of Allied Concert Services. The Lysander Trio also performed abroad in recent seasons, notably at Calgary Pro Musica in Canada, Pro Musica San Miguel de Allende in Mexico, and a tour of Israel. The Lysander Piano Trio has spent over a decade performing around the US with appearances at notable venues such as the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater, Los Angeles’ Da Camera Society, San Francisco’s Music at Kohl Mansion, West Palm Beach's Kravis Center and Norton Museum of Art, Juneau Jazz and Classics, and notable college venues including Middlebury College, Clemson University, Purdue University’s Convocations Series, and University of Illinois’ Krannert Center. Summer and festival appearances include the Bard Music Festival, Cooperstown Summer Music Festival, Copenhagen Summer Festival, The Chautauqua Institution, Princeton University Summer Chamber Concerts, and a critically acclaimed recital at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Among special projects, the Trio recently collaborated with clarinetist Charles Neidich in a unique program presented by the Chamber Music Society of Philadelphia and Lincoln Friends of Chamber Music. Orchestral engagements include Beethoven’s Triple Concerto with the DuPage Symphony Orchestra, University of Wyoming Symphony Orchestra and Greenwich Village Orchestra in New York City. The Lysander Piano Trio frequently performs in New York City, where the ensemble first launched in the 2010-11 season. The New York Times lauded the ensemble’s Weill Recital Hall debut at Carnegie Hall as “…rich sound and nuanced musicianship… resulting in a finely hued collaboration among the three musicians.” Other notable New York dates are Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall and David Rubinstein Atrium, Schneider Concerts Chamber Music Series at the New School, National Sawdust, Merkin Concert Hall, and the Mostly Mozart Festival’s 50th Anniversary season at David Geffen Hall. The Trio has a long-standing commitment to working with living composers and building a new repertoire for the piano trio. The ensemble’s commissions include Gilad Cohen’s Around the Cauldron (2017), co-commissioned by Concert Artists Guild and premiered at Weill Recital Hall; Ghostwritten Variations , by Venezuelan-American composer Reinaldo Moya; Jakub Ciupinski’s The Black Mirror ; and Four Movements Inspired by “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” penned by four pre-teen composers of ComposerCraft from NYC’s Kaufman Music Center and premiered at Merkin Concert Hall in 2014. Lysander members also premiered Jennifer Higdon’s Love Sweet for soprano and piano trio, which received its world-premiere recording together with acclaimed soprano Sarah Shafer on the group’s 2021 release, Mirrors . Beyond its praise from Musical America for being “strikingly inventive…meticulous” and from The Strad for its “evocative moments,” Gramophone celebrated Mirrors by noting that “all six of this release’s compositions benefit from the Lysander Trio’s finely honed ensemble values and well-characterised solo contributions.” The Lysander Piano Trio, whose name is inspired by the character in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream , was formed at The Juilliard School. The Trio studied with Ronald Copes of the Juilliard String Quartet, the late Joseph Kalichstein and Seymour Lipkin, and had a memorable masterclass with Alfred Brendel. Early in their career, Lysander became a standout at competitions, with top honors at the 2010 Fischoff National Chamber Music Competition, the 2011 Coleman Chamber Ensemble Competition (Grand Prize), the 2011 J. C. Arriaga Chamber Music Competition (First Prize), and the 2012 Concert Artists Guild Victor Elmaleh Competition.

February 8, 2015 – David Finckel, cello; Wu Han, piano SERGEI RACHMANINOFF (1873–1943) Sonata for Cello and Piano in g minor, Op. 19 February 8, 2015 – David Finckel, cello; Wu Han, piano In the wake of the successful completion of his Second Piano Concerto, Rachmaninov spent the summer of 1901 on the family’s country estate Ivanovka in the Tambov region, several days’ travel to the south of Moscow. To judge by his letters, it was only after he returned to Moscow in late September that he began to work on the sonata, the performance of which was already planned. The Sonata for Cello and Piano, op. 19, was composed in the fall and early winter of 1901 for the cellist Anatoly Brandukov. Towards the end of the last movement, Rachmaninov wrote the date “November 20th”. At the very end he wrote “December 12th”, showing that he revised the ending immediately after the first performance. The work debuted in Moscow, on December 2nd 1901, by Anatoly Brandukov, with the composer at the piano. By mid-November he was crying off social engagements, complaining that “my work’s going badly, and there’s not much time left. I’m depressed…” On November 30th however he sent a message to the composer Taneyev inviting him to a rehearsal at 11.30 that morning. By the following January 15th he was hard at work on the final proofs of the piece: ‘I’ve found almost no mistakes’. In later years Rachmaninov remembered his cello sonata as one of a series of pieces through which, with the help of Dr. Nikolai Dahl, after a long period of depression and inability to create, he was born again as a composer: ‘I felt that Dr. Dahl’s treatment had strengthened my nervous system to a miraculous degree… The joy of creating lasted the next two years, and I wrote a number of large and small pieces including the Sonata for Cello…’ © Gerard McBurney Return to Parlance Program Notes

December 15, 2019: Benjamin Luxon, narrator; Benjamin Beilman, violin; Chris Coletti, trumpet; Demian Austin, trombone; Inn-Hyuck Cho, clarinet; Frank Morelli, bassoon; David J. Grossman, bass; Ian Rosenbaum, percussion; Anni Crofut, dancer-choreographer IGOR STRAVINSKY (1882–1971) Histoire du soldat (The Soldier’s Tale) December 15, 2019: Benjamin Luxon, narrator; Benjamin Beilman, violin; Chris Coletti, trumpet; Demian Austin, trombone; Inn-Hyuck Cho, clarinet; Frank Morelli, bassoon; David J. Grossman, bass; Ian Rosenbaum, percussion; Anni Crofut, dancer-choreographer Exiled in Switzerland against a backdrop of WWI, the Bolshevik revolution, and personal hardship, Stravinsky had to think creatively. Early in 1918 he and writer Charles-Ferdinand Ramuz hit on the idea of a little traveling theater production that could tour cheaply. As a novelist rather than a playwright, Ramuz suggested fashioning a “story” rather than a play, held together by narration. They agreed that Stravinsky would compose music that could be performed separately as a concert suite. The composer showed Ramuz some Russian tales by Alexander Nikolayevich Afanasyev, and Ramuz began modeling his narration on The Runaway Soldier and the Devil. The story was to be “read, played, and danced” by a troupe consisting of the Narrator, actors in the roles of the Soldier and the Devil, a silent dancing Princess, and a small mixed chamber group. Working separately, Stravinsky began composing his ingenious musical numbers, drawing on Russian folk idioms and parodying popular modern dances, occasionally imparting touches of international flavor. He achieved novel sonorities by including a high and low instrument of each family—violin and bass, clarinet and bassoon, trumpet and trombone—along with various percussion instruments played by one player. The first performance of Histoire du soldat took place in Lausanne on September 28, 1918, conducted by Ernest Ansermet. Its great success augured well, but the tour had to be canceled owing to a sweeping flu epidemic. Ansermet also conducted the first performance of the Suite, in London on July 20, 1920. Stravinsky’s memorable music has always attracted instrumentalists because each individual part is extremely rewarding to play. As a full theatrical production, Histoire is most often performed at festivals and on college campuses where its special demands can be met more easily than by regular dance companies. Organized as a series of tableaux, the action takes place during the dance and mime scenes, which the narration connects. Part One begins with a jaunty introductory march as the Soldier heads home on leave (The Soldier’s March). In Scene One, the Soldier stops to rest by a brook and plays a fiddle tune (Little Tunes Beside the Brook), based on a Russian street song fashioned into one of Stravinsky’s signature ostinatos (repeating patterns). The Devil, disguised as an old man with a butterfly net, sneaks up on the Soldier and convinces him to trade his fiddle for a magic book that foretells the future. When the Devil finds he can’t play the fiddle, he tempts the Soldier with images of luxury to come home and teach him. After three days, the Devil magically whisks the Soldier back to his home village. A reprise of the Soldier’s March introduces Scene Two, in which the Soldier comes to the eerie realization that he has been gone three years, not three days—even his mother thinks he’s a ghost, and his fiancée is now married with two children. He berates himself and wonders what to do (Pastorale). The Devil, now dressed as a cattle merchant, reappears to remind the Soldier that he can make a fortune by using the magic book (Closing Music). Scene Three begins as the Soldier, having accumulated great wealth but finding it meaningless, throws the book aside. Disguised as an old woman, the Devil sells him back his fiddle, but the Soldier can’t make it sound and hurls it into the wings. To a reprise of Little Tunes Beside the Brook, he tears the book into pieces. A modified reprise of the Soldier’s March opens Part Two as the Soldier trudges along aimlessly. He finds himself in another country, where a king has promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone who can cure her illness (Scene Four). Arriving at the palace—accompanied by the Royal March, replete with Spanish flavor—the Soldier meets the Devil, dressed as a virtuoso violinist. While waiting to see the Princess, the Soldier purposely loses his money to the Devil in a card game (Scene Five), all the while plying him with drink until he falls unconscious. The Soldier recovers his fiddle and plays the triumphant Little Concert over the Devil’s insensible form. In the Princess’s chamber, the Soldier plays three dances—Tango, Waltz, and Ragtime—to which she dances as she is restored to health (Scene Six). The Devil enters undisguised, and the Soldier makes him dance to exhaustion (The Devil’s Dance). The Soldier and the Princess drag him off, then embrace to the music of the Little Chorale, based on that most famous of Lutheran chorales, “A Mighty Fortress.” The Devil interrupts with a dire warning (The Devil’s Song) that the Soldier must not cross the border to his native village or he will be reclaimed—much like Orpheus. The Great Chorale, accompanying the Narrator’s moralizing, completes Stravinsky’s “Mighty Fortress” parody, which imparts a sense of mock grandness with its delightful sprinkling of dissonance. Eventually the Soldier and the Princess decide to visit his native village (Scene Seven). As they cross the border, the Devil, again in possession of the fiddle, repossesses the Soldier, who follows him unresisting as the Triumphal March of the Devil resounds. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes