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March 24, 2019: Sarah Crocker Vonsattel, violin; Gilles Vonsattel, piano JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Violin and Piano Sonata in E, BWV 1016 March 24, 2019: Sarah Crocker Vonsattel, violin; Gilles Vonsattel, piano Bach may have begun his six Sonatas for violin and keyboard (BWV 1014–19) before 1725—possibly in Cöthen—but it is clear that he completed them c. 1725 in Leipzig, where he served as director of the city’s church music and of the Collegium Musicum. (For more about the Collegium see the notes for the Double Violin Concerto.) Some of the important surviving manuscript sources, dating from the mid 1720s and 1740s, show layers of emendation, suggesting that the sonatas were played frequently and that slight modifications were introduced. Bach’s accompanied Violin Sonatas differ from other Baroque violin sonatas in that the keyboard serves as an equal partner to the violin instead of merely providing continuo accompaniment. In many Baroque sonatas the keyboard part consists of a written-out bass line and a set of numerical figures that indicate which harmonies are to be filled in by the right hand. In these sonatas, however, Bach writes out a specific, independent part for the keyboard right hand, which engages in dialogue and independent counterpoint with the violin in the manner of a trio sonata. In regard to formal plan, Bach did embrace tradition—in all but the sixth of the Violin Sonatas he kept the typical sonata da chiesa (church sonata) sequence of four movements—fast, slow, fast, slow. The imposing Adagio that opens the E major Sonata, shows an exception to the general predominance of trio sonata texture. In this case the violin plays sweeping phrases, the keyboard right hand plays chords in an ostinato or repetitive pattern, and the left hand provides solemn, measured pacing. The main theme of the fugal Allegro transmits an innocent, popular character. Though the movement is clearly delineated in A–B–A form, the main theme recurs even in the cantabile B section. The return of the A section is considerably condensed. The third movement takes the form of a modulating chaconne or passacaglia in which the repeating pattern (occasionally altered) occurs in the bass. The violin and the keyboard right hand play independent melodic lines. At the end Bach writes out a miniature “cadenza” where other Baroque composers might have left an improvisation up to the performer. Bach’s irrepressible closing movement again displays ternary structure. The middle section features a contrasting triplet idea, though ideas from the opening section eventually appear here as well. Bach makes it very clear, nevertheless, when the opening section proper returns. Throughout the movement the trio sonata texture is fully exploited in the engaging interplay between the violin and keyboard right hand. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

SCOTT STEVENS, PERCUSSION Scott Stevens has been a percussionist and timpanist with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra since 1977. He received his degrees from The Juilliard School where he studied with Saul Goodman and Elden “Buster” Bailey. In the summers, Mr. Stevens is a member of the percussion faculty at the Interlochen Arts Camp, Interlochen, Michigan.

DEAN LEBLANC, BASSET HORN Clarinetist Dean LeBlanc has been performing with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra as an Associate Musician since 1998. He enjoys a versatile performance career as an orchestral musician and has also performed with the New York Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Mostly Mozart Orchestra, Lincoln Center Festival, Orchestra of St. Luke’s, Santa Fe Opera, New York City Opera, American Symphony Orchestra, Bard Music Festival, American Ballet Theatre Orchestra, New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, and Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra. As a chamber musician he has performs frequently with the MET Chamber Ensemble, Skaneateles Festival, the New York Chamber Music Festival, and the New York Philharmonic’s CONTACT! Series to include a few. Mr. LeBlanc has recorded for Decca, Atlantic, Telarc, New World Records, and EMI labels as well as for numerous major motion picture soundtracks including the Emmy Award Winning HBO Miniseries Mildred Pierce and the Oscar Winning Films True Grit, and Joker. He can be heard on four of the MET’s Grammy Award winning recordings, including Der Ring des Nibelungen, The Tempest, Porgy and Bess, and Akhnaten. Mr. LeBlanc is a Selmer Artist and serves on the Adjunct Faculty of the Juilliard School.

March, 10 2024: Richard Goode, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) The Diabelli Variations, Op. 120 March, 10 2024: Richard Goode, piano Before I became head program annotator at the Aspen Music Festival, I had the great privilege of working closely with my predecessor, the extremely knowledgeable music historian, philosopher, and writer Kurt Oppens. In addition to becoming acquainted with thousands of his program notes and essays, I had the honor of coediting a collection of favorites (see below) that included the following note, reprinted for his substantive and insightful perspective on this beloved masterwork. —Jane Vial Jaffe Anton Diabelli was a businessman, a music publisher, and a minor composer in his own right; some of his piano duets for beginners are still around and occasionally taught and practiced. In 1819 he committed a waltz theme to paper, intending to use it for a publicity stunt. This is the story as related by Thayer (1964): Anton Diabelli, a partner in the firm of Cappi and Diabelli, invited a number of composers to contribute a variation on a waltz theme of his own for a collection to be entitled Vaterländischer Kunstverein (Patriotic Art Society). The invitations were presumably made in 1819. According to Schindler,1 Beethoven at first refused the invitation. However, by early 1819 Beethoven had made sketches for four different variations, which come just before the preliminary sketches for the “Kyrie” of the Missa solemnis . Beethoven did his main work on the variations in 1822, and the full thirty-three variations were completed by March or April, 1823. To quote Thayer: “The Variations [Beethoven’s] were advertised as published on June 16, 1824 . . . were republished in June, 1824, as Part 1 of Diabelli’s Vaterländischer Künstlerverein ,2 subtitled “Variations for the Pianoforte on a theme composed by the most select composers and virtuosi of Vienna and the R. I. Austrian State.” Part 2 consisted of 50 variations by 50 different composers.” Among these fifty were Liszt, who was twelve years old in 1823; Schubert; and the Archduke Rudolph, Beethoven’s most highly placed patron and student. The story is interesting, because it illustrates the popularity of serious musical procedures, such as the variation. We also note a stunning incongruity of cause and effect: Diabelli’s enterprise, essentially a commercial gimmick, turning out to be the “breeding ground” for one of Beethoven’s greatest masterpieces. Beethoven’s attitude toward Diabelli’s proposal and Diabelli’s theme was curiously ambiguous. He refused at first to participate, and he derided the theme because of its rosalias, or sequences (repetition of motives on different pitches), for which he used the popular term “Schusterfleck” (cobbler’s patch). Moving on by the way of sequences was considered to be a cheap way out for composers—how would Beethoven have reacted to the scores of Wagner and Bruckner? As time moved on, though, the theme completely obsessed and engulfed him, and this development poses two questions for us: Why did Beethoven reject the theme? Why did he later on become so profoundly involved in it? Diabelli’s theme has been well-nigh buried under a shower of invectives since its inception. Yet it is neither banal nor vulgar nor overly simple; in fact, there is nothing at all the matter with it, which becomes quite evident whenever it is played as a waltz and not rattled off in the insane presto tempo that some pianists, influenced by the “vivace” designation, consider appropriate. But it is devoid of poetic and emotional content, and that makes it seem poor in comparison to the unbelievable metamorphoses it undergoes in Beethoven’s hands. Beethoven’s variations also reflect a curious imbalance in the theme in regard to its harmonic progressions. Four bars of the tonic (C major) are followed by four bars of the dominant (G major), after which come several tonic-dominant (1-V) progressions (passing modulations, the rosalias) in short succession. In view of the crowding of the I-Vs starting at the ninth bar, the extended I-V at the beginning becomes an acute embarrassment to the composer. He has to supply it with sufficient interest, intentionality, and dynamism, to lead us into the modulatory part without a break, which meant covering up its basically primitive nature by all possible means. This was the difficulty, this was the challenge—and, interestingly, it was generated by the compositional process itself. Diabelli’s initial I-V progression is completely innocuous and acceptable; it became a problem only when Beethoven began to make it meaningful. Out of this difficulty arose the most consistently maintained flow of high-intensity musical poetry ever to grace a cycle of variations. It is impossible to specify within a short space Beethoven’s unbelievable rhythmic, dramatic, lyrical, or contrapuntal exploits in this work; it is equally impossible to tell all he does with the original theme. All this would be the fit subject of a by no means small book.3 I can mention merely a few of the most obvious features of the cycle: There are no “ornamental” variations, in the old sense of the word, to be found (i.e., variations that merely embellish the theme without changing it). Beethoven includes, however, a small number of “reductive” variations which present the theme contracted to its very essentials (in Variations 13 and 20). Counterpoint is all-pervasive; imitation and canon techniques are applied to a considerable percentage of the variations. One variation refers to and quotes Mozart’s Don Giovanni (No. 24). Some of the variations display virtuosic or etude features, others recall one or the other of the Bagatelles, op. 119. Occasionally we find them paired (one variation continues the motion of the preceding one, or it repeats a dominant feature in a different manner). In devising the cycle, Beethoven does not seem to have followed a meticulously laid-out architectural ground plan. His scenario is dramatic in character: each variation continues where the last one left off; due to the generative power in each individual piece, we are kept breathless, in a state of permanent excitement as if we were exposed to a highly charged sequence of operatic scenes. There are, though, pauses or retardations; at these points we have to collect ourselves and make a new beginning. After the relentless piling-up of drama that precedes it, the Variation 20, an extremely slow piece consisting only of held-out chords, is a veritable test of nerves for the listener. The cycle has a distinctly marked-out finale area, which is characterized by a general easing of tensions and intensities. No. 24 is a fughetta, No. 32 a double fugue (one of Beethoven’s greatest, i.e., most natural-sounding); the traditional contrapuntal forms have a comparatively quiet character even when they appear at their liveliest, because of their tendency toward an even flow of notes and the absence of rhythmic shocks. The thirty-first variation, Largo molto espressivo, is an ornamented paraphrase of the theme, which proceeds with leisure; obviously the heat is over. At the very end, a completely relaxed minuet leads into a “calm of mind, all passion spent” coda. —©Kurt Oppens, Kurt Oppens on Music: Notes and Essays for the Aspen Music Festival, 1957–1955, edited by Nancy G. Thomas and Jane Vial Jaffe, 2009; first printed 1981; reprinted by permission. 1. Schindler was Beethoven’s student, famulus, and “whipping boy.” 2. Kunstverein (Society for the Arts) had changed into Künstlerverein (Society of Artists); the vaterländisch in both headings reflects the chauvinistic atmosphere in post-Napoleonic Germany and Austria. 3. Eds. William Kinderman’s 230-page nook, Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations , appeared in 1987. Return to Parlance Program Notes

April 19, 2009 – Elmar Oliveira, violin; John Novacek, piano LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770–1827) Sonata No. 10 in G, Op. 96 for violin and piano April 19, 2009 – Elmar Oliveira, violin; John Novacek, piano In 1812, the year Beethoven composed his tenth and final violin sonata, he wrote in his diary, “Everything that is called life should be sacrificed to the sublime and be a sanctuary of art.” The sublime tenderness of the G Major Sonata may surprise those expecting the fist-shaking defiance of his Fifth Symphony or the turbulence of the Appassionata piano sonata. Here we encounter a “kinder, gentler” Beethoven, passing from his heroic middle period into a more ruminative, profound late period. In this piece, pain and struggle recede and are replaced by an intimate, pastoral warmth. Dedicated to his devoted patron Archduke Rudolf, the piece was premiered in December of that year with the Archduke at the piano. The violinist was the Frenchman Pierre Rode, once considered the finest of his time but, in 1812, somewhat past his prime. Rode’s advancing age may have dictated a less vigorous work than Beethoven’s previous violin sonata, the monumental “Kreutzer” of 1803. But the gentle, musing atmosphere of Op. 96 is more probably an outgrowth of Beethoven’s evolving inner life. The first movement begins with a rustling, feathery trill, establishing the pastoral tone of the sonata. A jauntier second theme does little to disturb the overall serenity of the exposition. Themes unfold in an instinctive, stream-of-consciousness manner. At times the music seems to hover, circle around, and wander down unexpected paths, which become, in turn, the bases for further explorations. The warm, hymn-like second movement, marked “slow and expressive,” is one of Beethoven’s most beautiful Adagios. A flowing, tranquil stream of melody is couched in rich, chorale-like harmonies. The peaceful movement concludes with a moment of suspended animation before diving into the more agitated third movement, a minor key Scherzo. Though distinguished by syncopated, end-of-the-bar accents, the music never becomes brusque. The Scherzo alternates with a graceful, waltzing Trio set over a bagpipe drone, again reinforcing the work’s pastoral character. Beethoven wrote to the Archduke, “I have not hurried unduly to compose the last movement, as in view of Rode’s playing I have had to give thought to the composition of this movement. In our finales we like to have fairly noisy passages, but R does not care for them – and so I have been rather hampered.” Beethoven finally settled on a genial, folk-like melody as the basis for an unconventional set of variations. Four increasingly active variations lead to a prolonged, expressive Adagio, somewhat reminiscent of the atmosphere of the second movement. Eloquent instrumental exchanges are interrupted by dreamy, chromatic piano cadenzas. The initial theme eventually returns, leading to a boisterous section that is interrupted by a quiet, mysterious canon before returning to the original theme. The listener is surprised by a short, final Adagio, after which the violin and piano regain their resolve and sprint to an unbridled, joyous conclusion. By Michael Parloff Return to Parlance Program Notes

February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756-1791) Deh vieni non tardar (from Le Nozze di Figaro) February 16, 2020: Ying Fang, soprano; Ken Noda, piano The Marriage of Figaro has often been described as the perfect comic opera because it combines engaging entertainment with exquisite musical construction. Mozart had complained to his father in 1783 of having read hundreds of plays, none suitable as a comic opera subject. In late 1785, after aborting several attempts to set existing Italian librettos, he eagerly turned to Beaumarchais’s play Le mariage de Figaro, ou La folle journée (The marriage of Figaro, or The crazy day) once it became clear that Lorenzo da Ponte would write him a libretto. That Mozart composed at “breakneck speed” suggests an imminent production at Vienna’s Burgtheater that December, but the opera was not produced until May 1, 1786. It seems that censors needed time to ascertain that enough adjustment had been made to the politically subversive elements that had caused the play to be banned throughout the Hapsburg empire. Apparently, there were also delays owing to machinations by da Ponte’s rival Abbé Casti and Mozart’s rival Antonio Salieri, as well as problems with procuring dancers and a cast change for the Countess. In the end it was a success, to the point that after the third performance the emperor had to limit encores to keep the opera from lasting all night. Yet Figaro did not achieve its full measure of success until it was produced in Prague the following year, leading to the commission Don Giovanni. Mozart had been writing with such zeal in part because knew that banned subject matter would attract an audience. Further, he could count on familiarity with the characters from Giovanni Paisiello’s greatly successful opera Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville), based on the first of Beaumarchais’s trilogy—and, he was certain he could outdo his rival. As in the play, all of the action takes place in one day, the marriage day of Figaro and Susanna, servants to Count and Countess Almaviva. The main strand of the plot concerns the Count’s flirtations with Susanna in connection with the droit du seigneur (his supposed right as a noble to have his way with her on her first night of marriage) and her clever foiling of his advances. The eventual humiliation of this member of the aristocracy by his “inferiors”—even in its toned down guise—greatly appealed to the rising middle-class audience. Woven into the web are myriad subplots involving Figaro and Marcellina (the Count’s housekeeper), Dr. Bartolo’s desire for revenge on Figaro, the Countess trying to regain her husband’s love, and the womanizing young page Cherubino. For the Vienna revival in 1789, Mozart wrote two replacement arias specifically for Adriana Ferrarese del Bene, da Ponte’s mistress, who—unlike Nancy Storace, the original Susanna—had no comedic acting skills though she had a beautiful voice. In Act 2, Susanna dresses Cherubino as a girl to take her place and compromise the Count. The original “Venite, inginocchiatevi” requires a great deal of comedic acting, so Mozart instead substituted a “stand-and-sing” aria, “Un moto di gioia” (A feeling of joy) for Ferrarese, saying, “The little aria I have written for her I believe will please, if she is capable of singing it in an artless manner, which I very much doubt.” The strophic (several verses sung to the same music) aria is indeed very pleasing, and lovely to hear, since it is rarely used in modern performance. The great “Deh vieni, non tardar” (Oh, come, do not delay) was Susanna’s other aria that Mozart had to replace (which he did with “Al desio” [At the desire], an elaborate rondo showcase). With that substitution, the 1789 audience missed out on one of his most masterful arias—happily included on this afternoon’s program and in most performances of the complete opera. The crucial situation in Act II when Susanna sings “Deh vieni” called for multiple layers of meaning, which Mozart admirably achieved. Susanna and the Countess are disguised as each other to entrap the Count. Figaro has found out about their scheme, but Susanna knows he knows and that he is hiding in the bushes. Thus, as she sings of her love, supposedly for the Count, she is actually singing seductively to Figaro, though he suspects otherwise and becomes jealous. Mozart acknowledges Susanna’s being disguised as the Countess by giving her music more usually suited to noble characters than servants, including preparing it with an extended accompagnato recitative. He also provides the perfect mix of tender longing and mischief. © Jane Vial Jaffe Texts and Translations Aria SUSANNA Un moto di gioia Mi sento nel petto, Che annunzia diletto In mezzo il timor! Speriam che in content Finisca l’affanno Non sempre é tiranno Il fato ed amor. —Lorenzo da Ponte Recitative accompagnato SUSANNA Giunse alfin il momento che godrò senz’affanno in braccio all’idol mio. Timide cure, uscite dal mio petto, a turbar non venite il mio diletto! Oh, come par che all’amoroso foco l’amenità del loco, la terra e il ciel risponda, come la notte i furti miei seconda! Aria Deh, vieni, non tardar, oh gioia bella, vieni ove amore per goder t’appella, finché non splende in ciel notturna face, finché l’aria è ancor bruna e il mondo tace. Qui mormora il ruscel, qui scherza l’aura, che col dolce sussurro il cor ristaura, qui ridono i fioretti e l’erba è fresca, ai piaceri d’amor qui tutto adesca. Vieni, ben mio, tra queste piante ascose, ti vo’ la fronte incoronar di rose. —Lorenzo da Ponte Aria SUSANNA An emotion of joy I feel in my breast, which proclaims delight in the midst of fear! I hope that in contentment distress will end; not always tyrannical are fate and love. Accompanied recitative SUSANNA At last the moment has come when I can rejoice without worry in my lover’s arms. Timid cares, coming forth from my breast, do not come to disturb my delight! Oh, how it seems to the amorous fire, the congeniality of this place, that earth and heaven respond, as the night furthers my designs! Aria Oh, come, do not delay, oh beautiful joy, come where love calls you to enjoy, until night’s torches do not shine in the sky, while the air is still dark and the world quiet. Here the stream murmurs, the light plays, which with sweet whispers restores the heart, here little flowers laugh and the grass is fresh, here everything entices to love’s pleasures. Come, my dear, hidden among these bushes, I want to wreathe your brow with roses. Return to Parlance Program Notes

SHERYL STAPLES, VIOLIN Violinist Sheryl Staples joined the New York Philharmonic as Principal Associate Concertmaster, The Elizabeth G. Beinecke Chair, in 1998, and made her solo debut with the Orchestra in 1999 performing Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, led by Kurt Masur. She has since been featured in more than 25 performances, playing concertos by Mendelssohn, Mozart, Haydn, Bach, and Vivaldi with conductors including Alan Gilbert, Lorin Maazel, Kent Nagano, Jeffrey Kahane, Colin Davis, and Jaap van Zweden. She has also performed as soloist with more than 45 other orchestras nationwide, including The Cleveland Orchestra, Los Angeles Philharmonic, San Diego and Richmond Symphony Orchestras, and Louisiana Philharmonic. An active chamber musician, Ms. Staples frequently performs in New York-area venues including David Geffen Hall, Merkin Concert Hall, 92nd Street Y, and The Metropolitan Museum of Art. She has performed chamber music for U.S. Ambassadors in London, Paris, Berlin, Beijing, and Hong Kong, and in 2013 she toured Mexico, Brazil, and Chile. Recent summer festival appearances include La Jolla Music Society’s SummerFest, Boston Chamber Music Society, and Salt Bay Chamberfest. She has also collaborated and performed at the chamber music festivals of Santa Fe, Mainly Mozart, Seattle, Aspen, Sarasota, Martha’s Vineyard, Strings Music Festival, and Brightstar Music Festival. She appears on three Stereophile compact discs with the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival. A native of Los Angeles, Sheryl Staples began studying the violin at age five; her major mentors were Robert Lipsett and Heiichiro Ohyama. Before finishing studies at the University of Southern California’s (USC) Thornton School of Music, Ms. Staples was appointed concertmaster of the Santa Barbara Chamber Orchestra and other professional ensembles in Los Angeles. She then became concertmaster of the Pacific Symphony in 1994 while enjoying a varied career consisting of solo appearances, chamber music, teaching (at USC’s Thornton School of Music and the Colburn School of Performing Arts), and Hollywood studio recording work for numerous major motion pictures. At the age of 26, Ms. Staples joined The Cleveland Orchestra as associate concertmaster. Having taught at the Cleveland Institute of Music, Encore School for Strings, and Kent/Blossom Music Festival, and serving as a member of the Cleveland Orchestra Piano Trio, she is currently on the violin faculty at the Manhattan School of Music and Juilliard Pre-College Division. She also serves on the faculty of The Juilliard School working with students aspiring toward orchestral careers. Ms. Staples and her husband, percussionist Barry Centanni, premiered William Kraft’s Concerto a Tre for piano, violin, and percussion, written for them, at Martha’s Vineyard Chamber Music Society’s summer festival and recorded it for release on the Albany Records label in 2008. They also premiered David Sampson’s Black River Concerto for solo violin, percussion, and orchestra in April 2011 with the Montclair State University Symphony. Ms. Staples performs on the “Kartman” Guarneri del Gesu, c. 1728, previously on loan from private collector Peter Mandell and now in the collection of the New York Philharmonic.

September 24, 2017: Mark Holloway, viola; Michael Brown, piano FÉLICIEN DAVID (1810-1876) La nuit September 24, 2017: Mark Holloway, viola; Michael Brown, piano One of the world’s great violin prodigies, Henry Vieuxtemps also grew equally proficient on the viola, which he sometimes played in string quartets, a genre he loved. As a composer he developed largely on his own after some preliminary instruction from Simon Sechter in Vienna and Antoine Reicha in Paris. He gravitated naturally to the violin genres, but he also wrote chamber music—his three string quartets stand out in particular—and a select few viola compositions. His gently flowing La nuit for viola and piano draws on the “rêverie du soir” from Le désert, the programmatic ode-symphonie by Félician David that took Paris by storm in 1844. David had spent some years in Egypt to preach the Saint-Simonian gospel in hopes of restoring Egypt to its ancient greatness. His explorations there led to this descriptive work for soloists, male chorus, reciter and orchestra, which won extravagant praise from Berlioz. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

October 14, 2018: Garrick Ohlsson, piano JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897) Ballades, Op. 10 October 14, 2018: Garrick Ohlsson, piano Brahms composed the Four Ballades, op. 10, in the summer of 1854, an emotionally charged time for the young composer. He was staying in Düsseldorf to help Clara Schumann and her children following her husband Robert’s suicide attempt and subsequent institutionalization. Brahms served as go-between for husband and wife, whom doctors kept apart, and he anguished over his friend and mentor’s dark periods while his own feelings for Clara deepened. Making music in both senses—playing and composing—was a natural outlet. This period saw Brahms working on turning a projected two-piano sonata into a symphony (later reworked as the D minor Piano Concerto), responding to Clara’s Variations on a theme by Robert by composing a set of his own on the same theme, and beginning the set of Ballades, op. 10. The Ballades mark Brahms’s abandoning of the more weighty sonata form in his piano music and his first venture into the realm of the short character piece, to which he would return with such eloquence toward the end of his career. Though Chopin’s substantial Ballades may have been in the back of Brahms’s mind, his own were more influenced by the tradition of vocal settings of narrative poetry. As Brahms’s inscription reveals, his Ballade No. 1 was composed “after the old Scottish ballad Edward , in Herder’s Stimmen der Völker ” (Voices of the people). The Scottish ballads in Herder’s translation had been introduced to him by his new friend Julius Allgeyer, who was studying copperplate engraving in Düsseldorf. Brahms’s wordless piece reflects the ballad’s dialogue form to a certain extent and even fits some of the text itself, though he allowed himself the freedom to create an effective “tone poem.” (His later alto-tenor duet, op. 75, no. 1, demonstrates that he could set the text exactly and that the ballad continued to fascinate him.) The mother’s questions and Edward’s answers reveal that he has killed his father, her husband, ending with the shocking revelation that he has done so at her urging. In this Ballade Brahms has artfully molded the “dialogue” into a ternary form—his preferred Ballade form—in which the developmental middle section gains in intensity, abetted by a relentless “fateful” triplet figure. The return to the opening theme with its judicious alterations allows him to conclude with chilling effect. No such overt poetic references apply to the remaining three Ballades, though we are frequently tantalized by hints of underlying inspiration. In Ballade No. 2, serene, tuneful outer sections frame a fast central section, itself in two parts—one of angry character and one of lighter but still intense demeanor. If Ballade No. 2 corresponds vaguely to a “slow moment” in this set of four pieces, then Ballade No. 3 can be considered the “scherzo,” despite the fact that the subtitle “Intermezzo” elsewhere in Brahms refers to slower, more introspective pieces. In one of Schumann’s coherent phases he called this Ballade “demonic,” no doubt referring to its opening character. The “trio” or central section stands out for its ethereal high range and its concluding contrast of high and low. Nowhere is the spirit of Schumann more present than in the textures of the final Ballade, in which the opening melody is spun out over descending broken chords, or where the melody of its slower central section is transferred to an inner voice and surrounded by chordal figuration. It is noteworthy that Brahms calls for this introspective section to be played “with most intimate feeling, but without overly marking the melody” (col intimissimo sentimento, ma senza troppo marcare la melodia ), warning the overzealous interpreter not to subjugate his delicate filigree to mere background murmur. Brahms felt free enough with the form of his concluding Ballade to include a new chordal section after the return of the opening, followed by an altered return to the “intimate” music. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

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.

GREGORY ZUBER, PERCUSSION Gregory Zuber is principal percussionist with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, having joined the orchestra in 1986, and with its alter identities, the MET Orchestra and MET Chamber Ensemble. Prior to that, from 1985 to 1986, he was principal percussionist with the Toledo Symphony Orchestra. Zuber holds a Bachelor of Music degree from the University of Illinois where he studied with Tom Siwe, and a Master of Music degree from Temple University, studying with Alan Abel of the Philadelphia Orchestra. He also studied with James Ross of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Mr. Zuber attended the Interlochen Arts Academy and the National Music Camp at Interlochen. He has performed with the Philadelphia Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, and at the Tanglewood Music Festival, with the Colorado Philharmonic Orchestra, and the Civic Orchestra of Chicago. He can be heard on weekly international radio broadcasts, live from the Metropolitan Opera, as well as television broadcasts, and on many cd recordings and laser discs with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra and MET Orchestra on the Sony, Deutsche Grammophon, and EMI recording labels. With the orchestra, he has toured throughout the United States, Europe and Japan. Mr. Zuber is an active soloist, recitalist, composer, and clinician, and performs regularly with Percussionists of the Met and his wife, flutist Patricia Zuber. In addition to being on the faculty of the Bard College Conservatory of Music he is a faculty member of the Juilliard School and the UBS Verbier Music Festival. In October of 2002 he premiered Legend composed by Hseuh-Yung Shen, for solo percussionist and orchestra at Carnegie Hall with James Levine and the MET Orchestra.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2015 AT 3 PM Richard Goode, piano BUY TICKETS RICHARD GOODE, PIANO “Richard Goode is one of the finest pianists in the world. Few can match his unfailingly beautiful tone, effortless technical command, interpretive insight, and emotional commitment to the music he plays.” – The Washington Post FEATURING ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS One of today’s most thrilling and highly acclaimed artists, Richard Goode is universally hailed as a deeply insightful interpreter of the Viennese classics. His emotionally rich, far-ranging recital will feature two of Mozart’s most dramatic sonatas in alternation with a selection of Brahms’s beloved intermezzi, ballades, and romances. “The best pianists are able to produce an alluring sound from any instrument. Richard Goode, during a magisterial performance of late Beethoven sonatas in May at Carnegie Hall, produced a glowing, warm sound that encompassed a wide dynamic spectrum from muted intimacy to full‐throttle power without ever sounding harsh.” – The New York Times PROGRAM Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Sonata No. 8 in A minor, K. 310 Program Notes Johannes Brahms Klavierstücke, Op. 118 Program Notes Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Sonata No. 15 in F, K. 533 Program Notes Johannes Brahms Klavierstücke, Op. 119 Program Notes A short introduction Brahms’s Klavierstücke, Op. 119; Richard Goode, pianist: Hear the story behind Mozart’s A-minor Piano Sonata; Richard Goode, pianist: Watch a short video about pianist Richard Goode: Richard Goode, pianist - Beethoven Sonata No. 31 in A-flat, Op 110, Mvt. 1: