CMC 5th Anniv Program Notes

CHAMBER MUSIC CHARLESTON
Fifth Anniversary Concert
Sat, March 5 at 8:00 PM
Memminger Auditorium

Program Notes by Lindsay Koob

If you’re one of the many millions of Americans who was tuned in to President Obama’s memorable inauguration ceremony two years ago, you’ve already heard this evening’s opening selection. Air and Simple Gifts—a classical quartet for violin, cello, clarinet and piano—was commissioned specifically for the occasion from famed film composer and conductor John Williams. Its stellar performers included violinist Itzhak Perlman and cellist Yo-Yo Ma. But not everybody realized that they were actually hearing a recording of the piece, made several days earlier. The players had feared that the forecast sub-freezing temperatures (which indeed came to pass) would wreak havoc with their instruments, and deemed it unwise to risk botching their performance on such an august occasion. Thus, as real as it seemed, what we got was an artful and convincing “synch-job,” with bows soaped to silence the strings and decoupled hammers on the piano.

But that didn’t diminish the all-American appeal of this short, but achingly sweet piece in the slightest. Knowing that Aaron Copland was one of Obama’s favorite composers, Williams borrowed the salient theme from Copland’s most popular work, Appalachian Spring: the old Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts,” one of the most iconic and quintessentially “American” melodies we have. But the work begins with Williams’ own “Air,” an unadorned, downward-drifting modal melody first heard from the violin. Enter the cello and piano, for a brief and sweetly lyrical three-way musical conversation on the theme. The “Simple Gifts” tune is then heard from the clarinet, with an ensuing set of compact variations from the entire ensemble that soon builds to an intense and energetic climax. Finally, a brief coda revisits the opening theme before ending the piece with a striking, multi-tonal chord progression.

The work of Czech expatriate composer Bohuslav Martinu is slowly taking its rightful place as some of the twentieth century’s most brilliant and original music. One of his first stops upon leaving his native land was Paris, where he spent much of the 1920’s meeting and hearing famous composers (like Stravinsky and Ravel) and absorbing Paris’s seething welter of influences—including impressionism and jazz. His Revue de Cuisine—originally a ten-movement ballet score—was composed in 1927 and subsequently premiered in Prague. The scenario is an absurd love-story involving “kitchenware characters” (Pot, Lid, Twirling-stick, Dishcloth, etc.). But nowadays we usually hear the four-movement suite (until recently the only published version) that Martinu extracted from the score. This early masterpiece is what first drew serious attention to the Martinu.

The score calls for trumpet, violin, cello, clarinet, bassoon and piano. The suite’s movements are a manic Prologue, a mock-serious Tango, an exuberant and jazzy take on the Charleston (the local connection!) and a wacky Finale that reprises previous themes. If you know Stravinsky’s famous L’Histoire du Soldat, you should pick up on its obvious influence in this engaging and often humorous music.

The Piano Quartet No. 1 in G minor, Op. 25 (1859), composed when Johannes Brahms was 29, helped to forge his early reputation, prompting talk for the first time in musical circles about Brahms being the rightful musical heir to Beethoven; it has remained one of his most popular chamber works ever since.

The opening Allegro is full of noble, even heroic themes that soar over seething and often tempestuous undercurrents. But Brahms manages to break the prevailing tension with interludes of tenuous calm and surpassing lyric sweetness. The more inward and mysterious Intermezzo movement spins restless, nervously questing melodies from the upper strings over the persistent “heartbeat” of throbbing repeated notes from the cello—with an episode or two of searing anguish thrown in. A more overtly dramatic central trio section briefly interrupts the unsettled spell before the opening passages return.

In the lovely and luscious Andante con moto, sweeping and expansive melodies lead rapturously into passages of grandeur touched with intermittent tragedy. More intimate and tender moments come and go before the movement ends with a sigh of quiet contentment. Then, in smashing contrast, the headlong and spirited finale—the Rondo in Hungarian Style—hits like a sonic prop-blast, proceeding at breakneck speed through several exuberant dance episodes. Flowing lyrical interludes pluck at the listener’s heartstrings, thanks to their searing, gypsy-flavored intensity. The pianist gets a particularly stiff (and tricky) workout here, and must take care not to overwhelm his partners. The movement ends with the same bang it began with, leaving the typical listener limp with emotional exhaustion. What a wonderful way to end a varied and consistently appealing chamber program.