Sibelius II
Thursday - August 12, 8:00 pm

Stephen Alltop, Conductor
David Korevaar, Piano
Rimsky Korsakov - Russian Easter overture, op. 36 (Grand Paque russe)
Lowell Liebermann - Piano Concerto No. 1
Sibelius - Symphony no. 2, op. 43, D major

Program 5

Overture, The Russian Easter, Op. 36
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908)

Composed in 1888.
Premiered on December 15, 1888 in St. Petersburg, conducted by the composer.

Rimsky-Korsakov loved the old ways. Born and raised in Tikhvin, a city some hundred miles east of St. Petersburg that was known for its monastery, he often recalled later in life the sound of the monastery bells tolling over the town and the tales of the traditional peasant life that his grandmothers — one a serf, the other a priest’s daughter — told him as a boy. It is not surprising, therefore, that he turned to perhaps the greatest annual event in 19th-century Russia as a subject for one of his colorful orchestral compositions — “The Bright Holiday,” Easter. Early in 1888 in St. Petersburg, shortly after the Capriccio Espagnol had been premiered, he began an overture based on themes associated with the Easter celebration from the “Obikhod,” a collection of the best-known canticles of the Orthodox Church. He completed the score that summer during a country retreat at Nezhgovitsi, near Luga, when he was also finishing Scheherazade. He led the premiere of the Russian Easter Overture in St. Petersburg’s Club of Nobility on December 15th, in the middle of Advent.

Rimsky-Korsakov explained the musical progression of the Russian Easter Overture in his autobiography, My Musical Life: “The rather lengthy, slow introduction to the Overture, on the theme ‘Let God Arise!’ alternating with the ecclesiastical theme ‘An Angel Wailed,’ appeared to me, in its beginning, as it were, the ancient Isaiah’s prophecy concerning the resurrection of Christ. The gloomy colors seemed to depict the Holy Sepulcher before it had been filled with ineffable light at the moment of Resurrection. The beginning of the Allegro, based on ‘Let Them That Hate Him Flee Before Him,’ suggested the holiday mood of the Greek Orthodox Church service on Christ’s matins; the solemn trumpet voice of the Archangel was replaced by a tonal reproduction of the joyous, almost dance-like bell tolling, alternating now with the sexton’s rapid reading and now with the conventional chant of the priest’s reading the glad tidings of the Evangel. The ‘Obikhod’ theme ‘Christ Is Arisen,’ which forms a sort of subsidiary part of the Overture, appears amid the trumpet blasts and the bell tolling, constituting also a triumphant coda.”

In addition to the solemn Christian aspects of the Easter holiday, Rimsky-Korsakov also wove into his Overture the exuberant joy that had been associated with the pagan celebration of spring-time rebirth since time immemorial. “In this Overture,” he continued in his autobiography, “there were thus combined reminiscences of the ancient prophecy, of the Gospel Narrative and also a general picture of the Easter Service with its ‘pagan merry-making.’ The capering and leaping of the Biblical King David before the Ark, do they not give expression to a mood of the same order as the mood of the idol-worshippers’ dance? Surely the Russian Orthodox ‘Obikhod’ is instrumental dance music of the Church, is it not? And do not the waving beards of the priests and sextons clad in white vestments and surplices, and intoning ‘Beautiful Easter’ transport the imagination to pagan times? And all those Easter loaves and twists and the glowing tapers.... This legendary and heathen side of the holiday, this transition from the gloomy and mysterious evening of the Passion Saturday to the unbridled pagan-religious merry-making on the morn of Easter Sunday, is what I was eager to reproduce in my Overture.”

Rimsky-Korsakov thought that to appreciate the Overture “even ever so slightly, it is necessary that the hearer should have attended Easter morning service at least once ... in a cathedral thronged with people from every walk of life, with several priests conducting the service.” He asked his friend, Count Golyenischeff-Kootoozoff, to write a description of the traditional Easter service for those unfamiliar with the event but he was not pleased with the result, so he prefaced the published score with two verses he chose from the Bible. The first (Psalm 68, “Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered”) is the text for one of the chant melodies he quoted in the Overture. The other is the account in the Gospel of St. Mark describing Mary Magdalene and Mary arriving at the empty tomb on Easter morning. To these verses, Rimsky-Korsakov added his own lines: “And the joyful tidings were spread abroad all over the world, and they who hated Him fled before Him, like vanishing smoke. ‘Resurrexit!’ sing the chorus of angels in heaven to the sound of the archangels’ trumpets and the fluttering of the wings of the seraphim. ‘Resurrexit!’ sing the priests in the temples, in the midst of the clouds of incense, by the light of innumerable candles, to the chiming of triumphant bells.”

Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 12
Lowell Liebermann (born in 1961)

Composed in 1983.
Premiered on October 28, 1988 in Lake Forest, Illinois, conducted by Paul McRae with Stephen Hough as soloist.

Lowell Liebermann, born in New York City in 1961, early showed a remarkable gift for music — the Piano Sonata that he premiered at Carnegie Hall when he was sixteen received prizes from both the Music Teachers National Association and the Yamaha Music Foundation. He went on to study composition with David Diamond and Vincent Persichetti, piano with Jacob Lateiner and conducting with Laszlo Halasz at Juilliard, where he received his bachelor’s, master’s and doctoral degrees. Liebermann has since forged a career as one of today’s busiest and most frequently performed and recorded American composers: his Flute Sonata has been recorded twelve times, his Gargoyles for Piano seven, and the Flute Concerto four. He was Composer-in-Residence with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra from 1999 to 2002, and has also held residencies with the Pacific Music Festival in Sapporo, Japan (2001) and the Saratoga Performing Arts Center (2000).

Liebermann’s compositions include a two-act opera based on Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (for L’Opéra de Monte Carlo, that company’s first commission to an American composer), two symphonies (the second with chorus), concertos for flute, flute and harp, piccolo, trumpet, violin and piano, a Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini for piano and orchestra, two string quartets, sonatas, many chamber works, a Missa Brevis and other scores for chorus and solo voices, numerous keyboard pieces, and Paean for concert band. Among Liebermann’s honors are a Charles Ives Fellowship from the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters, Grand Prize in the Delius International Composition Competition, Outstanding Composition Award from the Yamaha Music Foundation, awards from ASCAP and BMI, and the first American Composers Invitational Award from the 2001 Van Cliburn Competition (awarded when the majority of semi-finalists chose to perform his Three Impromptus from among the five new pieces that the organizers had solicited for the event); his Second Piano Concerto, in the Hyperion recording by Stephen Hough and the BBC Scottish Orchestra conducted by the composer, was nominated for a 1998 Grammy as Best Contemporary Classical Composition.

Of his Piano Concerto No. 1, composed in 1983 and premiered by Stephen Hough and the Lake Forest (Illinois) Symphony in 1988, Lowell Liebermann writes, “The Concerto is in three movements; in fact the number three plays a role of great importance in the motivic and structural unity of the work, as is evident from the three tutti octaves and three semitones of the piano theme that open the work. The first movement (Allegro) is energetic and rhythmic. The second (Larghetto), scored for just strings, clarinets, flutes and timpani, is contemplative and expressive. [In the liner notes for his recording of the work on Hyperion, pianist Stephen Hough writes that the movement was inspired by the ‘Dream Fugues’ section of De Quincey’s Confessions of an Opium Eater.] The finale, subtitled ‘Maccaber Dance’ (Allegro con fuoco), once again utilizes the full orchestra, and is a fiendishly virtuosic ‘perpetuum mobile’ for the soloist, whose part is literally without rest for the entire movement. This closing movement was named after the Scottish adventurer Maccaber who initiated a graveyard ‘dance of death’ during the plague in medieval Paris and from whence comes the derivation of the term ‘Danse Macabre.’ Some of the Concerto’s thematic material is derived from a 17th-century song titled Fortune My Foe from Anne Cromwell’s Virginal Book (1638), which occurs in various guises (or disguises) throughout the three movements.”

[N.B. There is scant evidence for Liebermann’s contention concerning the derivation of the “danse macabre.” The etymology of the term is uncertain, though it first appears in Middle French around 1370; macabre might be a variant of Macabé, Old French for the followers of Judas Maccabaeus who were thought to have included dance in their funeral rites.]

Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43
Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)

Composed 1901-1902.
Premiered on March 8, 1902 in Helsinki, conducted by the composer.

At the turn of the 20th century, two pressing concerns were foremost in the thoughts of Jean Sibelius — his country and his compositions. His home, Finland, was experiencing a surge of nationalistic pride that called for independence and recognition after eight centuries of domination by Sweden and Russia, and he enthusiastically lent his philosophical and artistic support to the movement. In the 1890s, when Sibelius was still in his twenties, he was drawn into a group called “The Symposium,” a coterie of young Helsinki intellectuals who championed the cause of Finnish nationalism. Of them, Sibelius noted, “The ‘Symposium’ evenings were a great resource to me at a time when I might have stood more or less alone. The opportunity of exchanging ideas with kindred souls, animated by the same spirit and the same objectives, exerted an extremely stimulating influence on me, confirmed in me my purpose, gave me confidence.” The group’s interest in native legends, music, art and language incited in the young composer a deep feeling for his homeland that blossomed in such early works as En Saga, Kullervo, Karelia and Finlandia. The ardent patriotism of those stirring musical testaments became a rallying point and an inspiration to Finns, and they earned Sibelius a hero’s reputation among his countrymen.

In 1900, Sibelius was given a specific way in which to further the cause of both his country and his music. In that year, the conductor Robert Kajanus led the Helsinki Philharmonic through Europe to the Paris Exhibition on a tour whose purpose was less artistic recognition than a bid for international sympathy for Finnish political autonomy. As Sibelius’ music figured prominently in the tour repertory, he was asked to join the entourage as assistant to Kajanus. The tour was a success: for the orchestra and its conductor, for Finland, and especially for Sibelius, whose works it brought to a wider audience than ever before. Music and politics usually make contentious bedfellows, but on this occasion they achieved a fortuitous symbiosis.
A year later Sibelius was again travelling. Through a financial subscription raised by Axel Carpelan, he was able to spend the early months of 1901 in Italy away from the rigors of the Scandinavian winter. So inspired was he by the culture, history and beauty of the sunny south (as had been Goethe and Brahms) that he envisioned a work based on Dante’s Divine Comedy. However, a second symphony to follow the Symphony No. 1 of 1899 was aborning, and the Dante work was eventually abandoned. Sibelius was well launched on the new symphony by the time he left for home. He made two important stops before returning to Finland. The first was at Prague, where he met Dvorák and was impressed with the famous musician’s humility and friendliness. The second stop was at the June Music Festival in Heidelberg, where the enthusiastic reception given to his compositions enhanced the budding European reputation that he had achieved during the Helsinki Philharmonic tour of the preceding year. Still flush with the success of this 1901 tour when he arrived home, he decided he was secure enough financially (thanks in part to an annual stipend initiated in 1897 by the Finnish government) to leave his teaching job and devote himself full-time to composition. Though it was to be almost two decades before Finland became independent of Russia as a result of the First World War, Sibelius had come into the full ripeness of his genius by the time of the Second Symphony. So successful was the premiere of the work on March 8, 1902 that it had to be repeated at three successive concerts in a short time to satisfy the clamor for further performances.

Because of the milieu in which the Second Symphony arose, there have been several attempts to read into it a specific, nationalistic program, including one by Georg Schneevoight, a conductor and friend of the composer. The intention of this Symphony, he wrote, “was to depict in the first movement the quiet pastoral life of the Finns, undisturbed by the thought of oppression. The second movement is charged with patriotic feeling, but the thought of a brutal rule over the people brings with it timidity of soul. The third, a scherzo, portrays the awakening of national feeling in the people and the desire to organize in defense of their rights. In the finale, hope enters their breasts and there is comfort in the anticipated coming of a deliverer!” As late as 1946, the Finnish musicologist Ilmari Kronn posited that the Symphony depicted “Finland’s struggle for political liberty.” Sibelius insisted such descriptions misrepresented his intention — that it was his tone poems and not his symphonies which were based on specific programs. This Symphony, he maintained, was pure, abstract expression and not meant to conjure any definite meaning. As with any great work, however, Sibelius’ Second Symphony can inspire many different interpretations, and the Finns have an understandable devotion to Schneevoight’s patriotic view of the music despite Sibelius’ words — it is the piece most often performed at Finnish state occasions.

The influence of German and Russian music bears heavily on the first two symphonies of Sibelius. Echoes of the works of Tchaikovsky and Borodin and, to a lesser extent, Brahms are frequent. However, the style is unmistakably Sibelian in its melodic and timbral attributes, and even in the distinctive technique of concentrated thematic development that was to flower fully in the following symphonies. The first movement is modeled on the classical sonata form. As introduction, the strings present a chordal motive that courses through and unifies much of the movement. A bright, folk-like strain for the woodwinds and a hymnal response from the horns constitute the opening theme. The second theme exhibits one of Sibelius’ most characteristic constructions — a long held note that intensifies to a quick rhythmic flourish. This theme and a complementary one of angular leaps and unsettled tonality close the exposition and figure prominently in the ensuing development. A stentorian brass chorale closes this section and leads to the recapitulation, a compressed restatement of the earlier themes.

The second movement, though closely related to sonatina form (sonata without development), is best heard as a series of dramatic paragraphs whose strengths lie not just in their individual qualities but also in their powerful juxtapositions. The opening statement is given by bassoons in hollow octaves above a bleak accompaniment of timpani with cellos and basses in pizzicato notes. The upper strings and then full orchestra take over the solemn plaint, but soon inject a new, sharply rhythmic idea of their own which calls forth a halting climax from the brass choir. After a silence, the strings intone a mournful motive that soon engenders another climax. A soft timpani roll begins the series of themes again, but in expanded presentations with fuller orchestration and greater emotional impact.

The third movement is a three-part form (A–B–A) whose lyrical, unhurried central trio, built on a repeated note theme, provides a strong contrast to the mercurial surrounding scherzo. The slow music of the trio returns as a bridge to the closing movement, one of the most inspiring finales in the entire symphonic literature. It has a grand sweep and uplifting spirituality that make it one of the last unadulterated flowerings of the great Romantic tradition.

Of this work, David Ewen wrote, “It has the ardor, passion and vitality of youth; it overflows with sensual lyricism and Slavic sentimentality; it is dramatized by compelling climaxes and irresistible rhythmic drive.” To which Milton Cross added, simply, “It has an overwhelming emotional impact.”