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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

October 30, 2016: Wu Han, piano; Philip Setzer, violin; David Finckel, cello FRANZ SCHUBERT (1797-1828) Piano Trio in E-flat major, D. 929, op. 100 October 30, 2016: Wu Han, piano; Philip Setzer, violin; David Finckel, cello Schubert made four contributions to the piano trio literature, two full-fledged trios—B-flat major, op. 99, and E-flat major, op. 100—and two one-movement pieces—the early Sonatensatz, D. 28 (1812), and the Adagio in E-flat, D. 897, sometimes called Notturno. Though the precise dating of the B-flat major Trio remains somewhat of a mystery, both the B-flat and the E-flat trios are known to have been composed close to the same time, about a year before his death. The manuscript of the E-flat Trio states that it was begun in November 1827; the finale was probably completed in December. The two trios, though considerably contrasting in character, show a typical Schubertian tendency to work on more than one major work in the same genre, if not simultaneously then in quick succession. The Notturno, which may have been intended as a movement for the B-flat Trio, was also composed around that time. Outside of songs and a few operas, most of Schubert’s compositions were not performed publicly during his lifetime, though many were heard at the private musical evenings known as “Schubertiads.” The E-flat major Trio was one of the few that received a public performance, at the only public concert of his works that Schubert instigated before his death. The concert took place at the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna on March 28, 1828, to an overflow crowd containing many ardent Schubert supporters who loudly voiced their approval; the concert also helped Schubert’s ailing finances. The Trio—played by pianist Carl Maria von Bocklet, violinist Joseph Böhm (not Schuppanzigh as is sometimes reported), and cellist Josef Linke—formed the centerpiece of the concert, which also included a string quartet movement, several songs, and a piece for double male chorus. Despite the success of the concert, the event was largely eclipsed by the Paganini frenzy that soon held Vienna in its grip. Schubert’s growing recognition, however, was reflected in the fact that two publishers outside Vienna—B. Schott of Mainz and H. A. Probst of Leipzig—began asking Schubert for works to publish, hoping mainly for “easy” pieces that would sell well, such as songs and piano duets. Probst eventually offered to publish the E-flat Trio for about one-quarter of the going rate for piano trios, saying “a trio is a luxury article that rarely brings in a profit.” Schubert felt obliged to accept the offer on May 10, 1828, in view of his financial situation, asking only for “the swiftest possible publication.” Schubert wrote to Probst on August 1 that “this work is dedicated to nobody but those who find pleasure in it.” On October 2 he still had to “beg to inquire when the Trio is at last to appear. . . . I wait its appearance with longing.” Regrettably, Schubert died one month before the first copies reached Vienna. Both the B-flat and E-flat trios show Schubert’s expansive approach to Classical forms, the B-flat lasting approximately thirty-six minutes and the E-flat about forty-four, which as Joseph Braunstein pointed out is longer than all the Beethoven symphonies except the Third and the Ninth. The sonata-form first movement of the E-flat Trio is built on four themes—the unison opening, which returns to signal the recapitulation and to conclude the work, the scherzo-like main theme, a more hesitant second theme, and a lyrical closing theme. One of the most striking aspects of the movement is that Schubert uses the last of these as the basis of the development. Schubert’s friend Leopold von Sonnleithner reported that the composer had made use of a Swedish folk song in the Andante con moto, and, indeed, Schubert had heard several Swedish folk songs sung by Isak Albert Berg (later the teacher of the famous Jenny Lind) at the home of his musical friends the four Fröhlich sisters. Eventually, in 1978 musicologist Manfred Willfort showed the source of Schubert’s material to be “Se solen sjunker” (The Sun Is Setting) from a manuscript “5 Swedish Folk Songs . . . composed by Mr. B.” Schubert’s use of the folk song constitutes an absorption into his own expressive style rather than a simple quotation as seen in the example below. Despite his “Scherzo” label, Schubert referred to the third movement in a letter to Probst as a minuet, which was to be played “at a moderate pace and piano throughout.” And indeed the Scherzo, which opens canonically, suggests older models. “The trio, on the other hand,” wrote Schubert, should be “vigorous except where p and pp are marked.” Its heavy accents provide great contrast to the more graceful outer Scherzo sections. Schubert’s finale is remarkably progressive in its recall of earlier movements—such “cyclic” procedures were to become common with Romantic composers. The movement has often been criticized for its length, and Schubert himself made cuts in it which he told Probst “are to be scrupulously observed” in the engraving. In a reversal of his usual editorial practice, Brahms restored Schubert’s cut material when he prepared the movement for the new critical edition of Schubert’s works, making the finale over 1,000 measures(!), and adding to the decisions modern performers have to make. The movement’s expansiveness also brings to mind Schumann’s notorious phrase “heavenly length” in regard to Schubert’s Ninth Symphony, or the quip about Schubert often attributed to Stravinsky: “What does it matter if, on hearing these works, I doze off now and then, so long as, on awakening, I always find myself in Paradise?” © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

RICHARD FREDRICKSON, DOUBLE BASS Hailed as a “…virtuoso…” by Donal Henahan of The New York Times, “…an extraordinary musician…” by The Washington Post and “…stupefying…” by L’Est Vaudois (Switzerland), Richard Fredrickson made his Carnegie Recital Hall debut at the age of 24 after winning the Concert Artists Guild award. This marked the first time the award had ever been presented to a double bassist. Mr. Fredrickson has been a guest artist with such orchestras as the Seattle, Omaha and Baton Rouge Symphonies, the Slovak Radio Orchestra, the New York Chamber Symphony and the Washington Chamber Symphony. He has toured twice in Italy as soloist with the Orchestra of the North Carolina School of the Arts, where he also taught in the summer program. He has toured in Europe and appeared several times at the Kennedy Center, to great critical acclaim, with the Handel Festival Orchestra (now known as the Washington Chamber Symphony). He has also toured in the United States with Mitch Miller and his orchestra performing the Paganini Moses Fantasy. In recital, he has been heard in such venues and cities as the 92nd Street Y in New York, both the National Gallery of Art and the Corcoran Gallery in Washington, DC; Winston-Salem, North Carolina; Seattle, Washington; and in Italy. For several seasons he was a member of Newman and Friends with harpsichordist/organist Anthony Newman at Alice Tully Hall and with whom he also recorded the Bach Brandenburg Concerti. His festival engagements include the New Hampshire White Mountain Festival, Aspen, the Seattle Chamber Music Festival and the Fredericksburg Festival of the Arts. Chamber music has always been a special passion for Mr. Fredrickson. He has appeared with such groups and artists as the Philadelphia String Quartet, “For the Love of Music”, the Copenhagen String Trio, the Muir String Quartet, the Lyric Piano Quartet, Bargemusic, Yo-Yo Ma, Carol Wincenc, Heidi Lehwalder, Christopher O’Riley, Anton Nel, Anne-Marie McDermott and Michelle Levin. Ever seeking to expand the solo double bass repertoire, he has been the inspiration for such compositions as a Sonata and a Suite by Kenneth Benshoof, sonatas by Paul Tufts and Jan Bach and a Concerto by Alvin Brehm. Recently, he commissioned both John Carbon and William Thomas McKinley to write works for him. With the Slovak Radio Orchestra, Kirk Trevor conducting, Fredrickson recorded the Carbon Endangered Species, McKinley Passacaglia and the Vittorio Giannini Psalm 130. The CD was released in 2005 on the MMC (Master Musicians Collective) label. In May, 2005 Fredrickson also performed and recorded a new work written for him by McKinley for clarinet, double bass and orchestra, as well as the Bottesini Duetto with clarinetist Richard Stolzman and the Slovak Radio Orchestra. The Bottesini Duetto was released in October 2009 on the Navona Records label.

SUNDAY, MARCH 10, 2024 AT 4 PM GOODE PLAYS BEETHOVEN RICHARD GOODE, PIANO “Every time we hear him, he impresses us as better than we remembered, surprising us, surpassing our expectations and communicating perceptions that stay in the mind.” — Gramophone ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE BUY TICKETS Hailed for music-making of tremendous emotional power, depth and expressiveness, Richard Goode is one of today's most revered artists, drawing capacity audiences and raves the world over. The New York Times, in reviewing his Carnegie Hall performance praised his “majestic, profound readings... Mr. Goode’s playing throughout was organic and inspired, the noble, introspective themes unfolding with a simplicity that rendered them all the more moving.” Widely acknowledged as one of today’s premier Beethoven interpreters, Richard Goode will perform late works including Six Bagatelles from Op. 119, Sonata No. 30 in E, Op. 109, and the monumental “Diabelli Variations ,” Op. 120, widely considered one of the greatest sets of variations ever composed. 2023-2024 SEASON October 15, 202 3 Lysander Piano Trio November 12, 2023 Angel Blue, soprano Bryan Wagorn, piano December 3, 2023 Brentano String Quartet Antioch Chamber Choir January 14, 2024 Goldmund String Quartet February 18, 2024 Candlelit Music of The Spirit March 10, 2024 Richard Goode, Piano Late Beethoven April 7, 2024 Jordi Savall, Conductor Hespèrion XXI May 12, 2024 Mothers Day Concert June 2, 2024 Mozart’s Double Concertos Artist Roster Parlance Program Notes LOCATION At West Side Presbyterian Church 6 South Monroe Street Ridgewood, NJ 07450 For map and directions, click here . CONCERT AMENITIES Whee lchair Accessible Fr e e Parking for all concerts FEATURING BUY TICKETS Richard Goode , piano PROGRAM Beethoven Program Notes Six Bagatelles from Op. 119 Beethoven Program Notes Sonata No. 30 in E, Op. 109 Beethoven The Diabelli Variations, Op. 120 Program Notes Watch Richard Goode perform the first movement of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 31 in A-flat Major, Op. 110:

March 24, 2019: Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violins; Sarah Crocker Vonsattel, violin; Kristin Lee, violin; Pierre Lapointe, viola; Mihai Marica, cello; Tim Cobb, bass; Gilles Vonsattel, harpsichord JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (1685-1750) Double Violin Concerto in D Minor BWV 1043 March 24, 2019: Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violins; Sarah Crocker Vonsattel, violin; Kristin Lee, violin; Pierre Lapointe, viola; Mihai Marica, cello; Tim Cobb, bass; Gilles Vonsattel, harpsichord An accomplished violinist as well as keyboard player, Bach wrote at least six concertos for one or more violins and a number combining violin with other types of solo instruments. He intended the solo parts for himself or for his qualified students or professional colleagues, including several of his own sons. The celebrated “Double” Concerto is in fact a concerto grosso, in which a small solo group (concertino)—here two violins—is contrasted with a larger group (ripieno or tutti). Accordingly Bach titled his manuscript: Concerto à 6, 2 violini concertini, 2 violini e 1 viola di ripieni, violoncello e continuo di J. S. Bach. It was once thought that Bach had composed the work between 1717 and 1723 in Cöthen where he composed the Brandenburg Concertos, but scholar Christoph Wolff has convincingly suggested that he composed this Concerto as well as the A minor Violin Concerto, BWV 1041, around 1730 to 1731 in Leipzig where he directed the Collegium Musicum. This music society, founded at the University in 1702 by then student-of-jurisprudence Georg Philipp Telemann, was made up primarily of students under professional leadership. Bach directed the group from 1729 until the early 1740s (with a short interruption from 1737 to 1739). The Collegium presented public community concerts, one of the first organizations to do so in Germany, and ultimately led to the Leipzig Gewandhaus, which remains the most important musical organization of that city. During Bach’s tenure with the Collegium he constantly needed to produce all manner of music for their weekly performances: overtures, duo and trio sonatas, sinfonias and concertos, including keyboard concertos, which he often performed with his sons and pupils as soloists. A longtime admirer of the works of Antonio Vivaldi, Bach employed the concerto form he standardized in the eighteenth century—three movements: fast, slow, fast. He also availed himself of Vivaldi’s ritornello form (in which a refrain alternates with episodic excursions), though adapted in his own way, and with his particular contrapuntal leanings. All three movements of the Double Concerto make use of or allude to ritornello form. The opening Vivace’s first tutti statement occurs as a fugal exposition, an unusual feature for concertos in general, but a device Bach also used in the finale of the above-mentioned A minor Concerto. In the Largo, ma non tanto, one of Bach’s most beautiful and heart-stirring slow movements, the soloists dominate. The way in which the solo parts intertwine, often weaving lovely chains of suspensions, continues to create a fascinating and moving effect no matter how many times one has heard the work. The opening theme, begun by the second solo violin, recurs in the manner of a ritornello, yet there are no “tuttis”—the accompaniment provides a continual soft rhythmic background, only to come briefly to the fore for cadential reinforcement. The finale, Allegro, begins with a rhythmic cascade of close imitative counterpoint and unfolds in a free ritornello structure. Of special interest are the episodes in which, reversing their roles, the solo violins play broad four-part chords while the orchestra provides the motivic interest. The movement’s rhythmic drive creates a hypnotic momentum. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

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September 25, 2016: Escher String Quartet HUGO WOLF (1860-1903) Italian Serenade September 25, 2016: Escher String Quartet Hugo Wolf is known primarily as a composer of nearly 350 art songs, as a champion of Wagner and disparager of Brahms, and as a man who spent the last years of his short life in agonizing insanity. Though Wolf faced many spells when his creative powers failed him, he also experienced great bursts of creativity. The Serenade in G major—he later called it “an Italian Serenade” in an 1892 letter to Emil Kauffmann—was composed in just such a burst, from May 2–4, 1887, in the midst of a larger creative surge during which he was immersed in setting Eichendorff poems. Wolf’s Eichendorff phase played an important role in the Serenade’s conception. The one-movement work relates thematically to the first of the Eichendorff songs “Der Soldat I,” of which the text concerns a soldier’s love for a lady who lives in a castle. The same subject matter appears in Eichendorff’s novella Aus dem Leben eines Taugenichts (Memoirs of a good-for-nothing) in which an Italian serenade figures prominently in the plot. The hero, who leaves home to seek his fortune, is a violinist, which might explain the importance of the solo violin in the quartet version of Wolf’s Serenade. At one point in the novella an orchestra plays a serenade, which may have inspired Wolf’s eventual arrangement for small orchestra (1892). As he was rescoring the Italian Serenade for orchestra, Wolf clearly had in mind a four-movement work, but attempts in 1893, 1894, and 1897, remained sketches. That he considered the existing one-movement work as a first movement speaks volumes about his approach to form. He made it perfectly obvious, especially as a critic for the Wiener Salonblatt, that he detested absolute music and any sort of academic technique—fugue, pedal points—that first movements inevitably contained. Therefore, instead of following a typical abstract sonata form, he relied on a form that implied some sort of program or narrative, though he never actually specified one. His free rondo form and recitative-like passages create such an effect. The Italian Serenade leaves the overall impression of playful irony, in part because of its saucy main theme, which returns often enough to overrule any lovesick outburst. In one episode the cello plays an impassioned recitative, which is clearly mocked by the response of the other instruments. At the end Wolf brings back the repeated notes of the introduction, with pizzicato chords providing a last bit of wit. © Jane Vial Jaffe 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

March 29, 2015 – Matthew Polenzani, tenor; Ken Noda, piano FRANZ LISZT (1811-1886) Selected Songs March 29, 2015 – Matthew Polenzani, tenor; Ken Noda, piano To Liszt’s annoyance, his more than eighty songs were largely ignored by a public caught up in the “Lisztmania” surrounding his dazzling piano performances. And critics, who considered him a composer of showy trifles, generally dismissed the songs as well. Nor have the songs received their due from posterity, despite their containing some of Liszt’s most poetic, economic, and progressive utterances. The songs did have their champions—the lyric tenor Franz Götze above all, but also Rosa and Feodor von Milde and Emilie Genast—all of whom had the great advantage of having been accompanied by the composer himself at his “matinées” in Weimar. Liszt set mostly German poets, represented in this afternoon’s first group, but he was also sensitive to French poets, reflected here in the group of Victor Hugo songs. German Songs Liszt composed “Wie singt die Lerche schön” (How beautifully sings the lark) in 1855 on a text by his friend, poet, literary historian, and composer August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben, best known as the author of the words of Germany’s national anthem. Liszt’s shimmering, harmonically radical setting imaginatively conveys the poet’s images of bird song, nature, and hope after darkness. Liszt’s arpeggiated ninth chords and open ending anticipate Impressionistic sonorities by some fifty years. “Der Glückliche” (The happy one), with its energetic chords and surging harmonies, brims with youthful exuberance and the intoxication of love before ending in peaceful repose. Setting a poem by playwright, novelist, and journalist Adolf von Wilbrandt, Liszt was returning in 1878 to a powerful style he had cultivated decades earlier. In “Die stille Wasserrose” (The quiet water lily), composed in 1860, Liszt set the words of Emanuel Geibel, whose poems were esteemed for their classical elegance while still appealing to Romantic aesthetics. Here again Liszt’s harmonies are daring, now in a lovely introspective setting. Particularly striking is the harmonic shifting as the moon’s rays illuminate the heart of the snow-white blossom. Liszt composed “Im Rhein, im schönen Strome” (In the Rhine, in the beautiful river) in 1840, setting of Heinrich von Heine’s famous poem. He later made a second version, in 1855; the original is performed here. Heine’s poem describes the reflection of the impressive Cologne Cathedral in the river—aptly represented by Liszt’s Impressionistic rippling piano figuration—and almost irreverently compares the famous Madonna there to the poet’s own beloved. Liszt represents the comparison ecstatically at first, but his light postlude suggests that he realized the poet’s impudence. “Es rauschen die Winde” (The wind rushes) sets a poem by Ludwig Rellstab, now remembered especially for nicknaming Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Liszt again made two very different versions (1845 and 1849), of which we hear the more stormy first, which remained unpublished until 1921. The text laments a lost love, which Liszt dramatically represents with both restlessness and resignation, the latter often associated with his personal life at the time—failure in Weimar, the death of two of his children, and obstacles to his marrying Princess Sayn von Wittgenstein. French Songs Liszt was particularly inspired by French Romantic literature and had a close personal relationship with several poets, among them Victor Hugo, who also won renown as a novelist, dramatist, and statesman. Liszt set seven Hugo texts between 1842 and 1844, including the four best known on today’s program. He made alternate versions of several of them in 1849–59. “S’il est un charmant gazon” (If there be a lovely lawn), a Hugo setting from 1844 and revised between 1849 and 1859, effuses in two parallel but varied sections evoking the beloved’s constant heart. Liszt’s lovely inconclusive ending later gave him second thoughts, and his 1860 publication included an ad lib concluding cadence—unnecessary and happily not included in this performance of the idyllic second version. Again in two versions, “Enfant, s’il j’était roi” (Child, if I were king) makes a stirring statement in both versions, of which we hear the second from 1859. Liszt nicely juxtaposes the dramatic grandeur of each verse’s opening with its more contemplative close. In “Comment, disaient-ils” (How, they asked) the moods shift dramatically with the questions of the men on board a small boat and the female oracular answers they receive. Liszt composed his first version in 1842, revising it to great effect in 1849–59 (heard here). Some of his piano effects reflect the Spanish theme of Hugo’s original poem, entitled Autre guitare. The French set concludes with the tender and passionate “Oh! quand je dors” (Oh! while I sleep), which yet again elicited two versions—1842, composed during one of his concert tours, and 1849, not only revised with unusual harmony at the outset, but rewritten melodically and harmonically for the second stanza, and including a vocal cadenza between the second and third stanzas. This later version, sung today, became his best known French song. © Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes

DENIS BOURIAKOV, FLUTE Established as one of the world’s leading flute soloists, Denis Bouriakov was the winner of the 2009 Prague Spring competition, and prize winner at most major international flute competitions, including the Nielsen, Munich ARD, Kobe, Rampal, Nicolet, Larrieu, and others. He is currently the Principal Flutist of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, appointed by Gustavo Dudamel in 2015, and has previously served as the Principal Flute of the Metropolitan Opera in New York under James Levine. Denis has been combining orchestral and solo careers, regularly performing concertos and recitals worldwide. He has collaborated as a soloist with many prominent conductors, including Valery Gergiev, Daniel Harding, and Gustavo Dudamel. With his phenomenal virtuoso technique and musicianship, Denis looks outside the standard flute repertoire for works that would allow the flute to shine, continually transcribing and performing violin concertos and sonatas, and expanding the limits of flute technique and artistry. A number of his arrangements have been published by Theodore Presser, with a few in the works. Additionally, some of them are available as free downloads on his website. His first solo CD, featuring the Bach Chaconne, Sibelius Violin Concerto, and other daring original arrangements, was released in 2009 and followed by a number of other solo albums over the years. His upcoming CD release, in collaboration with the Lithuanian Chamber Orchestra, features Romantic-era violin and flute concertos such as the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. In addition to his commercially released solo albums, Denis has published hundreds of videos of live performances from recitals and concertos on his YouTube and IGTV channels. Denis has held a full-time teaching position at the University of California, Los Angeles since 2017, alongside his fellow-flutist wife, Erin, who shares his enjoyment of collaborative teaching and duo performing. In 2018 he was appointed Visiting Professor of Flute to his alma mater, the Royal Academy of Music in London. The Academy previously awarded Denis the prestigious titles of Associate and Fellow of the Royal Academy of Music in 2006 and 2014, respectively. Denis leads many masterclasses for conservatories and universities worldwide and teaches many courses in Germany and Japan. He has been on the faculty of the Verbier Festival in Switzerland and the Pacific Music Festival in Japan, both of which he had participated in as a student. Additionally, Denis has been invited to adjudicate many international competitions. In 2019 he was appointed chairman of the woodwind jury by Valery Gergiev for the prestigious XVI Tchaikovsky International Competition. Denis was born in Simferopol, Crimea, and was a prodigy flutist from a young age. At the age of 10, he was admitted to the Moscow Central Special School, where he studied with the famous Professor Y.N. Dolzhikov, the only French-trained professor in USSR. With the support of the “New Names” International Charity Foundation and the Vladimir Spivakov Foundation, Denis toured as a young soloist in over 20 countries in Europe, Asia, South America, and the USA, performing for Pope John Paul the Second, Prince Michael of Kent, and the presidents of Russia, Romania, and Indonesia. When he turned 18, Denis went on to attend the Royal Academy of Music in London, studying with Professor William Bennett, OBE. While studying in London, he competed internationally and freelanced as a Principal Flute with the Philharmonia of London, the London Philharmonic Orchestra, Leeds Opera North, and the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra. He won his first full-time orchestral position in 2005 as Principal Flute with the Tampere Philharmonic Orchestra in Finland, where he also taught at the Tampere Conservatory of Music. In 2008 Denis moved to Spain to become the Principal Flute with the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra under Eiji Oue. Later that year, Denis won the position as Principal Flute of the Metropolitan Opera in New York and has resided in the United States since 2009. Denis plays on an Altus PS model flute and a Faulisi silver headjoint.

2018-2019 ARTIST ROSTER EDWARD ARRON, CELLO MICHAEL BROWN, PIANO BARRY CENTANNI, PERCUSSION TIMOTHY COBB, DOUBLE BASS DAVID J. GROSSMAN, DOUBLE BASS PAUL HUANG, VIOLIN CHELSEA KNOX, FLUTE SEAN LEE, VIOLIN MIHAI MARICA, CELLO KEN NODA, PIANO WEN QIAN, VIOLIN SHERYL STAPLES, VIOLIN JASON VIEAUX, GUITAR PINCHAS ZUKERMAN; AMANDA FORSYTH; ANGELA CHENG ELAINE DOUVAS, OBOE MAURYCY BANASZEK, VIOLA THE CALIDORE STRING QUARTET INN-HYUCK CHO, CLARINET EMERSON STRING QUARTET WENDY BRYN HARMER, SOPRANO PAUL JACOBS, ORGAN PIERRE LAPOINTE, VIOLA QIAN-QIAN LI, VIOLIN ANNE AKIKO MEYERS, VIOLIN GARRICK OHLSSON, PIANO DOV SCHEINDLIN, VIOLA ARNAUD SUSSMANN, VIOLIN GILLES VONSATTEL, PIANO JOEL NOYES, CELLO PASCUAL MARTÍNEZ FORTEZA, CLARINET ALESSIO BAX, PIANO NICHOLAS CANELLAKIS, CELLO LUCILLE CHUNG, PIANO DAVID FINCKEL, CELLO MING FENG HSIN, VIOLIN FRIEDRICH HEINRICH KERN, GLASS HARMONICA KRISTIN LEE, VIOLIN MATTHEW LIPMAN, VIOLA EILEEN MOON-MYERS, CELLO CYNTHIA PHELPS, VIOLA EMILY DAGGETT SMITH, VIOLIN DANBI UM, VIOLIN SARAH CROCKER VONSATTEL, VIOLIN KEVIN ZHU, VIOLIN YOOBIN SON, FLUTE

February 20, 2022 – Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Juho Pohjonen, piano MORITZ MOSZKOWSKI (1854–1925) Suite for two violins and piano, Op. 71 February 20, 2022 – Paul Huang, violin; Danbi Um, violin; Juho Pohjonen, piano For a time Moszkowski led the life of a touring piano virtuoso, until a nervous disorder curtailed his performing. He was fortunate, however, to excel in many pursuits. He had been teaching since he was seventeen at the Neue Akademie der Tonkunst in Berlin and continued there for twenty-five years. At some point he became a respectable violinist and often played first violin in the Akademie orchestra. He also achieved success as a composer—his Spanish Dances for piano duet won the public’s favor and made him a fortune, but he also composed orchestral, stage, and chamber works in addition to his large body of piano music. As a conductor he began earning recognition in Germany and in England in the 1880s. When Moszkowski left the Neue Akademie in 1897 it was to settle permanently in Paris with his wife. There he taught such famous pupils as Wanda Landowska and Thomas Beecham. Beginning about 1910, however, he went into as a decline as the result of changing musical tastes, lost investments because of World War I, worsening health, and the deaths of his wife and daughter. He died a recluse, in poverty, though old loyal friends had tried to help with a benefit concert in America. The proceeds arrived the year he died, too late to help him. Moszkowski’s Suite, op. 71, dates from c. 1900, while he was still in his zenith. It might be called a sonata for violin duo and piano except that it does not contain a full-fledged sonata-form movement. Its four movements, however, follow the tradition of “serious,” though not heavy, concert music as opposed to the light, popular salon style that he cultivated in many of his piano pieces. The lush, dramatic first movement comes the closest to sonata form, with its contrast of themes—one full of counterpoint, interplay, and running passages and the other introduced chordally by the piano followed by give and take between the two violins. Moszkowski develops these ideas, but stops short of a full recapitulation, giving just enough to recall the opening. The second movement, Allegro moderato, gives the impression a minuet, romanticized by sweetly resolving tensions and pleasing harmonic excursions. The “trio” appears twice and even maintains a presence in the final return of the “minuet,” which is condensed and altered to give a sense of closure—almost like a farewell scene. The piano introduces the lovely slow movement with a low melody, which gives way to a poignant canon between the two violins. The fact that the dynamic level never rises above an impassioned piano (p) makes the vivacity of the finale particularly pronounced. The last movement barrels along in the manner of a tarantella (a fast dance named for Taranto in southern Italy and not for the tarantula or a dance to cure its bite). A slower “trio” provides contrast before the tarantella returns. A brilliant coda rushes headlong to the end, with the violins in perpetual motion, egged on by the “boom-chick” of the piano. By Jane Vial Jaffe Return to Parlance Program Notes