Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra Programme Notes Online

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1 Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra Programme Notes Online Classic FM Series The Dream Team Returns Thursday 25 & Friday 26 May pm sponsored by The Rushworth Foundation PIOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY ( ) The Seasons, Op.37a: selection orchestrated by Sergei Abir (b.1944) April: Snowdrop May: Starlit Nights June: Barcarolle July: Song of the Reaper August: Harvest Of all the musical responses to the seasons, Tchaikovsky s may not be the first that springs to mind. The spotlight has more often fallen on bigger, bolder efforts: think of the dazzling pyrotechnics of Vivaldi s concertos, or Haydn s all-encompassing oratorio. But then these subtle piano works perform a very different role to their better-known namesakes. Rather than an attempt to pin down the full breadth of nature s cycles in one fell swoop, Tchaikovsky s seasons are constructed from a dozen fleeting snapshots. Although brief, these mood pieces convey hints and hues of the passing months, gradually painting a calendar year through a series of vignettes. The monthly installments design of the cycle was the suggestion of Nikolay Bernard, editor of the St. Petersburg music journal Nouvelliste, who approached Tchaikovsky with the idea in the autumn of Four of his songs had already featured in earlier editions, and the composer promptly accepted both the well-paid

2 commission and Bernard s suggested format: a piano miniature portraying each month of the year, printed in the corresponding magazine issue. Although an announcement of the forthcoming series in December s Nouvelliste cemented Tchaikovsky s commitment to the project, his enthusiasm for it may not have been quite so unwavering. Music critic and friend Nikolay Kashkin would later recall the composer s somewhat begrudging approach to the task ahead, comparing the pieces to musical pancakes in the speed of their delivery. Tchaikovsky supposedly enlisted his servant to remind him shortly before each deadline so that he might reel off the miniatures at the last minute. In reality, this reluctance seems to have been overstated. In accepting the commission, Tchaikovsky had signalled his intent to make good time: If the circumstances are right then they will be done quickly I am very much in the mood for piano pieces. The subsequent letter that accompanied the copies of the first two works in December 1875 reveals a composer all too eager to please, with humble offers of a rewrite should Bernard think them too long or poor. Whilst the three spring pieces were delivered on a tighter timescale, there was good reason for this with the final orchestration of Swan Lake due in April Indeed, it would seem that as soon as the ballet score was completed, Tchaikovsky launched himself back into The Seasons with renewed vigour; his copy-books indicate that he went on to complete the entire cycle ahead of a trip to Ukraine in May. The speed at which The Seasons was produced appears to have left its contents with a refreshed vitality a veritable tonic to the dramatic intensity of Swan Lake. The target audience of impressively able but nonetheless amateur pianists inspired something of a masterclass in musical economy: Tchaikovsky achieves his desired effects through strikingly minimal means. Scenes are evoked with clarity and concision, each lasting just a few minutes. Indeed, much of the success of the cycle can be

3 attributed to its flexibility; its movements can thrive perfectly well as standalone pieces, but complement one another beautifully when heard in context. April This selection commences with the plaintive April, a flowering snowdrop inspiring mournful reminiscence and hopeful expectation in equal measure. An elongated melody sprouts steadily upwards atop a pulsating accompaniment only to sink delicately away. Although a contrasting passage sees figures ascend with far greater urgency, these ruminative exchanges eventually subside into a reprise of the stretching opening theme. May Spacious, chorale-like textures evoke the clarity of a clear night in May; only a fleeting episode of agitation clouds the view, leaping motifs recurring anxiously atop a restless accompaniment. June June also paints a moonlit scene, but one of a notably melancholic nature. Its initially pensive arching theme is spun out through numerous chromatic twists and turns in the style of a Venetian barcarolle, with the sombre mood briefly offset by an impassioned climax. July We are transported to more rustic surroundings in July as reapers battle the elements with cheery determination to collect the crop, a sturdy subject in emphatic E-flat major flanking a more insistent C-minor outburst. August It paves the way for a chaotic August harvest, fragmentary subjects scampering and ricocheting around whilst an air of tranquility is somehow maintained for a more thoughtful period of musing at the centre of the movement. In contrast with Tchaikovsky s own schedule for The Seasons, Sergei Abir adopted a far more relaxed approach when orchestrating the cycle: It was a pleasant and unhurried dialogue with the composer through this wonderful piece. It was

4 also homage to my mentor at the Moscow Conservatory, Yury Fortunatov, to whom I owe my views on the art of orchestration and to whom I dedicated this score. Richard Powell 2017 SERGEI PROKOFIEV ( ) Piano Concerto No.3 in C major, Op.26 Andante allegro / At a walking pace fast Tema con variazioni / Theme and variations Allegro, ma non troppo / Fast, but not too fast When Prokofiev arrived at the St Petersburg Conservatory in 1904 nobody had heard or seen anything quite like him. Arrogant, mercurial and strange in appearance, Prokofiev aimed to shock. He was an out-and-out iconoclast and both his piano playing and his music sought to echo the sheer clamour and dissonance of modern life. After he performed his own First Piano Concerto in 1914 an astonished member of the audience recalled: He had white-blond hair, a small head with a large mouth, very thick lips and very long, awkwardly dangling arms, terminating in a bruiser s powerful hands The strangely gauche manner in which he traversed the stage was no indication of what was to follow; after sitting down and adjusting the piano stool with an abrupt jerk, Prokofiev let go with an unrelenting muscular exhibition of a completely novel kind of piano playing The young man s music and his performance of it reminded me of the onrushing forwards in my one unfortunate soccer experience nothing but unrelenting energy and athletic joy of living. Like the aforementioned work, the Third Piano Concerto was written to showcase Prokofiev s outrageous, gymnastic virtuosity. He gathered themes for the work over a nine-year period and eventually completed it in Brittany in Prokofiev gave its premiere with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in December

5 1921 and recorded it with the London Symphony Orchestra 12 years later. First movement The first movement opens with a slow introduction in which a broad and lyrical clarinet solo is taken up and expanded by the strings and woodwind. The ensuing Allegro brims with exuberance and rhythmic vitality, the entry of the piano totally dispelling any vestiges of the movement s initial tranquillity. Thereafter the piano and orchestra engage in a busy and often percussive dialogue until the appearance of a sardonic, dancelike theme ushers in a mood of satire, an impish castanet heightening the dry humour. The andante reappears, now more expansively, and the piano indulges in a rare bout of unrestrained lyricism. The remainder of the movement, however, is breathtakingly virtuosic and unrelentingly rhythmical. Second movement The second movement is a theme and five variations, a superb example of Prokofiev s cutting musical wit. The orchestra introduces its main theme a reticent gavotte before the piano reintroduces itself with an elongated trill and a florid upward run (surely the precursor of the opening of George Gershwin s Rhapsody in Blue). The first variation (L istesso tempo) begins with a harmonically lush elaboration of the theme followed by a restatement of the original in the flutes and clarinets, the piano now adding busy ornamentation. In the second variation (Allegro) any lingering diffidence is swept away as the orchestra gallops headlong, the piano keeping pace with a series of energetic runs up and down the keyboard (seldom does a concerto s slow movement present technical difficulties of quite this nature!). The third (Allegro moderato poco meno mosso) is even more vigorous with its fiendish, accented syncopations. However, reprieve comes in the form of the fourth variation (Andante meditativo), a wonderfully contemplative and ethereal recasting of the theme over a luxuriant orchestral texture. The fifth variation (Allegro giusto) is yet another madcap romp but, after the main

6 theme appears once more (now accompanied by busy piano elaborations), the bustle of the movement eventually subsides, the piano given the last word with a low hushed chord. Third movement Prokofiev described the third movement (Allegro, ma non troppo) as a musical argument between soloist and orchestra and certainly the dialogue is more heated than hitherto. A rigorous main theme is introduced by bassoons and pizzicato strings before the piano enters belligerently with a conflicting idea. The exchange becomes increasingly more fractious but eventually leads into a lyrical middle section. Here the piano initially responds with sarcasm to the orchestra s newly conciliatory tone before melting into warm Rachmaninov-like lyricism (happily Prokofiev never quite lived up to his billing as a cussed anti-romantic). The first theme returns before the disagreement turns into a fully blown battle in the form of a stunning extended coda. Anthony Bateman 2017 BEDŘICH SMETANA ( ) Má Vlast: Vltava, Šárka and Blaník As a composer, conductor and critic Smetana was at the forefront of the struggle for political independence in Bohemia, and two works, in particular, summed up for him his commitment to these ideals. Between 1869 and 1872 he wrote the opera Libuše (pronounced Liboosher ), an epic work dealing with the first founding of the Czech nation. In the same spirit, and almost before Libuše was finished, he began work on Vyšehrad ( Visherrad ), the first of what was to become Má Vlast, a sequence of six symphonic poems which he deliberately conceived as an orchestral counterpart to the opera. They are based on aspects of Czech history, legends and landscape which Smetana outlined in a letter to his publisher in 1879.

7 Before he was able to finish Vyšehrad, however, the effects of syphilis began to undermine his health, eventually leaving him totally deaf. His persistence in completing it and the remaining symphonic poems is a tribute as much to his battle against mental and physical decline as to the strength of his feelings for his country. The first complete performance of Má Vlast, on 5 November 1882, was one of the greatest triumphs of his career, but by then he was unable to hear a note of his music. Vltava Two days after completing Vyšehrad, in November 1874, Smetana began work on the second and most popular work of the cycle, which he finished three weeks later; it was given its premiere on 4 April The music, as Smetana explained to his publisher, traces the course of the river Vltava (the Moldau is its German name, and therefore the title used in German editions of the score), beginning with its source in two forest springs. Flutes, joined later by two clarinets, set up a bubbling figure which transfers to the strings to provide a backdrop to the well-known main theme. This is taken, not from a traditional Czech tune, as you might suppose, but from a Swedish one (Smetana worked in Gothenberg for some years). The river flows through forests, with hunting-calls on horns and trumpets, and meadows, with the polka rhythms of a peasant wedding. With a magical change of key a glassy stillness comes over the music; this episode, said Smetana, was intended to evoke moonlight and water-nymphs dancing. The main theme returns, gradually becoming more turbulent as the river passes cliffs and ruined castles in its approach to the St John s Rapids. The music gathers speed and the theme changes from minor to major; the river broadens out as it enters Prague itself, passing the ruins of Vyšehrad Castle, the subject of the first part of Má Vlast (and the setting for Libuše). The two themes from that first symphonic poem crown the music at its climax, before the river flows on to join the Elbe and disappears from view.

8 Šárka For the third piece in the sequence, written in 1875 and first performed on 17 March 1877, Smetana turned to the legend of Šárka ( Sharka ), a woman betrayed by her unfaithful lover, and who swears revenge on men, leading a band of rebel women who hide out in the forest. Her story is also the subject of operas by two Czech composers from a later generation, Zdeněk Fibich ( ) and Leoš Janáček ( ). After the opening section, full of passionate fury, a march theme suggests the band of soldiers, led by Ctirad, sent to arrest Šárka and her followers. Šárka lays a trap for them, having herself tied to a tree and calling for help (a unaccompanied clarinet phrase) as Ctirad s forces approach. Ctirad falls for both her story and for her, and unties her. The women invite him and his men to join them in a drinking bout (a episode full of vigorous polka rhythms), but their drink has been drugged and they eventually sink into a drunken stupor. An ominously off-key solo horn call signals a change of mood. An extended solo for Šárka s clarinet (a momentary pang of regret on her part?) leads to the vigorous final section, as the women rush upon the men and slaughter them. Šárka s lust for revenge has been satisfied. Blaník This is the name of a mountainous region to the northeast of Tábor, near which Smetana lived for several years as a child. According to legend, the defeated Hussites retreated inside the mountain, where they lie asleep, waiting their moment to rise again. The piece begins where Tábor leaves off, with the opening of the Hussite Hymn still echoing, and the turbulence of the earlier piece unresolved. A quieter section includes a pastoral episode, with a solo oboe duetting, first, with a solo horn, then, over unchanging harmony on the strings, a solo clarinet. According to Smetana, this evokes the countryside around Blaník, with a shepherd-boy playing his pipe and listening to the echo. The music gathers pace again, taking on a more urgent feel. A solo horn quotes a phrase from near the end of the Hussite hymn, which leads into a new

9 march idea. The composite theme that results dominates the rest of the piece, including a short-lived climax marked Grandioso, after which the march turns into a celebratory polka. Finally the Hussite Hymn, on trumpets, trombones and tuba, combines with the themes from the first of the six tone poems, on woodwind, horns and strings, representing the castle of Vyšehrad, where Má Vlast began. Mike Wheeler 2017