CHRISTOPHER ROUSE (b. 1949) Der Gerettete Alberich 22 00 Christopher Rouse ranks as one of America s most distinguished living composers. He holds degrees from Oberlin Conservatory and Cornell University, and counts George Crumb, Karel Husa and Robert Palmer among his composition teachers. Rouse taught at the Eastman School of Music from 1981 to 2002, and has been teaching at the Juilliard School of Music since 1997. His music has been performed by nearly every major American orchestra as well as by many abroad. More than thirty of his compositions are available on CDs. Among Rouse s most prestigious awards are the Kennedy Center Friedheim Award for Symphony No. 1 and the 1993 Pulitzer Prize for his Trombone Concerto. In 2002 he was elected to the prestigious American Academy of Arts and Letters. Recent orchestral works, all premiered in 2014, include Supplica (Pittsburgh Symphony), Thunderstruck, and Symphony No. 4. The latter two works were premiered by the New York Philharmonic, with which Rouse has been composer-in-residence since 2012. Upcoming premieres include Organ Concerto (Philadelphia, November 2016) and Symphony No. 5 (Dallas, February 2017). Rouse has regularly been turning out concerted works for a wide variety of instruments: violin, cello, flute, oboe, clarinet, trombone, piano, percussion and, most recently, trumpet. Der Gerettete Alberich follows in this line. It was commissioned jointly by the London Symphony, Cleveland Orchestra, Philadelphia Orchestra and Baltimore Symphony. Christoph Dohnányi conducted the first performance with the Cleveland Orchestra on January 15, 1997 with soloist Evelyn Glennie, to whom the score is dedicated. Concertgoers familiar with Wagner s operatic tetralogy, Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung) know that the particular Nibelung in question is the dwarf Alberich, that it is he who set in motion the great cosmic cycle of events that led to the downfall of the gods in Valhalla, and that he survived the catastrophe, though his fate remains unknown. Christopher Rouse thought that it might be engaging to return him to the stage, so to speak, so that he might wreak further havoc in what is quite literally the godless world
in which Wagner has left us in the final pages of Götterdämmerung. The result was Der Gerettete Alberich, whose title might best be translated as Alberich Saved, itself a reference to George Kaiser s expressionist play Der Gerettete Alkibiades. Rouse also notes that Der Gerettete Alberich is looser architecturally than his other concerted works, more of a fantasy for solo percussionist and orchestra on themes of Wagner, with the soloist taking on the role of Alberich. The solo percussionist plays a great variety of instruments, assisted by three additional percussionists at the back of the orchestra handling a further array of instruments that include such exotica as anvil, thunder sheet and cowbell. Throughout the score Rouse incorporates a number of motifs from Wagner s Ring cycle, mostly those directly associated with Alberich in some way: the curse, power of the gold, Nibelungs hammering, renunciation, and of course the ring itself. The motif of redemption through love, which opens the work, also plays a role, though Rouse rather maliciously distorted it to suit the purposes of my hero [The score] is not a narrative piece in the manner of, say, Strauss Don Quixote. Beyond a brief passage in which Alberich serves a stint as a rock drummer (probably inspired, at least in part, by the wonderfully over-the-edge Wagner Reincarnated scenes in Ken Russell's film Lisztomania), I was not attempting to paint specific pictures in this score. Critic Donald Rosenberg described the 22-minute score in the Cleveland Plain Dealer as something of a Wagnerian fractured fairy tale, full of references to the Ring but twisted in such a way that the narrative emerges as a fresh burst of creative imagination. As filtered through the brain of a daring American composer, the final bars of Wagner s Götterdämmerung give way to gourds, the instruments with which Alberich makes his initial nefarious appearance. The adventure finds our dwarf scampering on kinetic, noisy, yet often poignant terrain. The myriad percussion instruments placed in front of the orchestra provide Alberich with a spectrum of emotional colours and opportunities to embark on mischief. What keeps the piece on its eventful forward track is the confident and unpredictable manner in which the composer alters textures, sets off barrages of rhythmic devices in the solo percussion and achieves remarkable clarity and motivic purpose in the orchestra.
SERGEI RACHMANINOV (1873-1943) Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 60 00 I. Largo Allegro moderato II. Allegro molto III. Adagio IV. Allegro vivace Few symphonies written in the twentieth century have achieved the fame and popularity of Rachmaninov s Second. Indeed, it has become his most beloved purely orchestral work. He wrote the symphony in Dresden, where he had gone in 1906 to escape the demands of public life in Moscow, the constant demand as a pianist, conductor, committeeman, guest and collaborator on all things musical. The hour-long work was fully sketched by New Year s Day of 1907. Revisions and orchestration took place over a longer period, both back home in Russia and during a return visit to Dresden. Rachmaninov agreed to conduct the first performance, which took place on January 26, 1908 in St. Petersburg. He also led the Moscow premiere a week later, and an early American performance with the Philadelphia Orchestra in November 1909. In each case, the audience responded enthusiastically, and the symphony has enjoyed an unbroken run of popularity to this day. The score is dedicated to the composer Sergei Taneyev. Rachmaninov himself authorised certain cuts in performance, and the expansive nature of the work has led many conductors to do their own editing, resulting in performances that may last anywhere from 38 minutes to well over an hour. Most of the melodic material of the symphony derives from a single motif, heard in the opening bars in the somber colours of low cellos and basses. In a multifarious variety of guises and transformations, this motto haunts the entire symphony in both obvious and subtle ways, thus infusing it with coherence and compelling impetus. After its initial statement, the motto passes to other instruments, eventually giving birth to a sinuous violin phrase, which grows to an impressive climax as it weaves its way through lushly orchestrated
textures and luxuriant counterpoint. The main Allegro moderato section of the first movement is ushered in with a shivering, rising figure in the strings. Violins then spin out a long, winding, aspiring theme based on the motto. The delicate, gentle second theme, divided between woodwinds and responding strings, also derives from the motto. The second movement, a scherzo, is built on the motif of the Dies irae, the medieval Gergorian chant for the dead. Four horns in unison proclaim a boldly exuberant version of the Dies irae, which itself has its seeds in the symphony s motto. Two contrasting ideas of note are the warmly flowing lyrical theme for the violins and a brilliant fugato section that demands the utmost in virtuosity from the strings. The third movement is one of the lyric highlights of all Rachmaninov. No fewer than three gorgeous melodies are heard, beginning with one of the most popular ever written. Following immediately on this theme of great repose and tranquility comes one of the glories of the solo clarinet repertory an extended theme full of ardent longing that Edward Downes calls an aria for clarinet. Twenty-three continuous measures of exquisite beauty wind on and on, providing another example of Rachmaninov s ability to expand a short idea into one of heavenly length. Arthur Loesser wrote in 1939 that this music gives off a vapour of drugged sweetness, of fatalistic melancholy. The entire movement is a dense web of richly polyphonic writing. Midway through there is a brief but obvious reference to the first movement s slow introduction. The enormously energetic finale too is a broadly expansive movement, beginning with a boisterously robust idea that might easily conjure up the spirit of a kermesse (Russian carnival). A dark, grim, march-like episode in the seldom-used key of G-sharp minor brings momentary relief from the predominant spirit of exuberance. Another of Rachmaninov s most famous themes occurs in this movement, a magnificent, soaring affair that sweeps onward over an expanse of more than one hundred measures. Quiet reminiscences of the first and third movements lead to the development
section. One of the symphony s most thrilling passages occurs in this section, where the tintinnabulating effect of St. Petersburg s great bells is recreated in orchestral terms a slow accretion of descending scales at different speeds, registers and rhythms that culminates in a dense and spectacular swirl of notes. The recapitulation follows, and Rachmaninov s longest, grandest, most expansive symphonic work ends in a veritable blaze of sound. Programme notes by Robert Markow