I wrote these notes last week for the upcoming concert. i'm posting them now because i have them, but honestly, i won't bother trying to improve too much on them even though they could obviously be more detailed - who needs another recap of the new world symphony? it's only one of the best-loved, most accessible symphonies ever written - if you find these notes short, you should just go listen to it. i also did an individual movement post on the scherzo last year which you can find here. i won't even post a recording here, just go find one. if you find yourself needing more mental stimulation, play the last movement and try to identify every time one of the previous movements' themes comes up.
as printed in the 2012 Ithaca College symphony orchestra block 1 concert program:
From 1892 to 1895, Dvorak lived in New York as the
director of the National Conservatory of Music, and this fruitful
period (during which he drew much inspiration from American folk
music) would yield his most celebrated works. Among his output during
these years are his tenth String Quartet No. 10 in F Major, the
“American,” the famous cello concerto in B minor, and this work,
by far the most popular of his nine symphonies, which he penned from
December 1892 to May 1893 on commission by the New York Philharmonic.
With its wealth of captivating, memorable themes,
this symphony has found lasting popularity worldwide. Dvorak made a
point of studying the spirit and identifying characteristics of Negro
and Native American folk music, which he deemed “practically
identical”: he believed that these sources were the treasure trove
that would anchor the American musical identity. However, though he
made a conscious effort to incorporate the folk music's
idiosyncrasies, he never used anything but original themes in this
symphony. (This is also true of most of the folk-music-inspired works
he composed, for example his lively and nationalistic Slavonic
Dances.) The musical influences represented here have been traced not
only to Negro and Native American tunes, but also heavily utilize
rhythms from his native Bohemian. The work's charm is not in the use
of folk material per se, but rather in Dvorak's ability to
develop those exotic influences within a classic symphonic form,
scoring them authentically yet idiomatically for standard orchestral
instruments.
The first movement begins with a slow introduction: a
plaintive melody is scored for celli, and punctuated by a horn call.
Soon the subdued mood gives way to a more dramatic outburst in the
strings, timpani, and horns; this leads us to the movement proper,
which is a brisk Allegro Molto in sonata form. It is this movement
which Dvorak most closely associates with his effort to embody the
native American spirit within characteristic “national” melodies.
The first of these themes is a rising and falling arpeggio, developed
vigorously and dramatically; the second theme, first given by solo
flute and then violins, is more lyrical, but retains the rhythmic
lilt of the first.
The second movement a Largo, is introduced by
grandiose brass chords that lead us to the key of D-flat Major. The
famous english horn solo which follows is one of the most iconic
tunes in all of symphonic repertoire, and Dvorak credits this and
most of the material in the movement to the inspiration he drew from
Longfellow's poem Hiawatha. The serene mood of the theme contrasts
with the more melancholy middle section, which is in the enharmonic
minor key of C-sharp and begins with a wistful oboe solo, accompanied
by fluttering, undulating figures in the strings. The transformative
moment is a soft, surprise cadence in C-sharp major, which lifts the
music in a more lively direction leading to a great climax. The
english horn theme and opening material return largely unaltered,
save a gorgeous variant given by the strings, steadily reduced until
the music seems to pause, mid-breath. Solo violin and cello dance
alone for a moment, before being joined by the rest of the string
section to bring the movement to a close.
The scherzo, which returns to the key of E minor,
also derives its inspiration from Hiawatha, specifically the scene in
which the Indians dance at Hiawatha's triumphant return from battle.
It is representative of Dvorak's scherzi in all the best ways: a
compelling pulse with fetching, danceable rhythms that can be traced
to Dvorak's folk roots. The contrasting trio is more lighthearted and
dulcet; it is set in the relative C Major.
Dvorak describes the fiery last movement as a recall
and synthesis of all the themes of the previous movements. The
powerful introduction heralds a striking theme given by the horns.
With every reintroduction of prior themes Dvorak adds new material
and innovative twists, and the movement climaxes with a chord
progression analogous to that which began the second movement. The
final section brings the symphony to a thundering coda, ending on a
chord that dissolves into silence.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Ravel: Daphnis et Chloé, Suite No. 2
this piece is consolidated into one post because a) its movements don't divide well as they are played attacca and b) as component parts of a much larger composition, it doesn't really make sense to divide them up anyway.
this has some weird tempi changes/relationships but overall i think achieves the clarity that ravel had in mind. this is a version performed without the optional wordless choir. i have to say, i like the (relative) spareness of the version without the choir, but they do have some great chords and lines that are only really implied by the rest of the orchestration (though there are "instrumental alternatives" written in the orchestral parts).
the full ballet was premiered in June 1912 by Diaghilev's Ballets Russes conducted by Pierre Monteux. the context is interesting because not even a year before that debussy premiered his prelude to the afternoon of a faun, and stravinsky's firebird and petrouchka were both premiered during the three years it took Ravel to produce and orchestrate Daphnis et Chloé. though it was, strictly speaking, "ballet music," ravel called daphnis a “choreographic symphony in three parts.” suite no. 2 represents the final third, comprising three movements which chronicle the reunion of the two young lovers after Chloe's kidnapping at the hands of pirates; their dramatic tribute to the god Pan, who was responsible for Chloe's rescue; and the Bacchanalian celebration that follows.
orchestrationally, Ravel is at his very best in this suite, which has become the most-performed version of this music since the relatively lukewarm reception to the full ballet (and maybe the most-performed orchestral work of his, period). he uses a huge orchestra:
flutes, alto flute, piccolo, oboes, english horn, clarinets, e-flat, bass clarinet, (three!) bassoons, contrabassoon
four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba
two harps, celesta
and a huge bevy of percussion instruments: timpani, cymbals, bass drum, field drum, snare drum, castanets, tambourine, glock.
and of course the wordless SATB choir.
Program notes follow:
The suite begins with daybreak (Lever du jour), and Ravel paints a luminous picture of a sacred grove with a brook represented by murmuring winds, harps, celeste, and strings, along with birdcalls from piccolo and solo violins. Soon daylight breaks and luscious melodies are passed throughout the orchestra, as the two title characters are reunited amid lush harmonies. The second movement, Pantomime, is remarkable for its extended, meandering wind solos. The transformation is ushered in by a solo oboe which calls a halt to the undulating figures in the winds and strings. A shepherd explains to Daphnis and Chloé that if Pan has saved Chloé, it is in honor of his doomed love for the beloved Syrinx. Daphnis and Chloé begin the reenactment of Pan and Syrinx's love story. Their dance is marked by fluid rhythms, elastic and languid tempi, and a famously difficult flute solo depicting Syrinx (who was transformed into a reed pipe, placing her forever out of reach). The music swings abruptly from mood to mood, now tenderly hesitant, then playfully flirtatious, then sweepingly grandiose – but throughout it retains a note of wistfulness, ultimately unfulfilled. The movement concludes with a broad and brilliant statement by the trumpets.
The unmistakable commencement of the post-drama celebration (Danse générale) is marked by a switch to a whirling meter in five. A motor of running triplets alternates throughout the orchestra, punctuated by bright interjections from trumpets and soprano clarinet. The music begins at a portentous distance but soon swells to a wild, volatile celebration, with subito soft moments followed by explosive outbursts. These increase steadily in intensity and frequency to build to a thrilling conclusion.
i find this entire suite totally compelling. i love ravel. there is something that i find so intuitive about his (initially) most non-intuitive stuff - his sense of rhythm when he mixes meters and gives offbeats to everyone else, his weird hesitations in the middle of phrases, the pressez fowards. ravel is awesome.
this has some weird tempi changes/relationships but overall i think achieves the clarity that ravel had in mind. this is a version performed without the optional wordless choir. i have to say, i like the (relative) spareness of the version without the choir, but they do have some great chords and lines that are only really implied by the rest of the orchestration (though there are "instrumental alternatives" written in the orchestral parts).
the full ballet was premiered in June 1912 by Diaghilev's Ballets Russes conducted by Pierre Monteux. the context is interesting because not even a year before that debussy premiered his prelude to the afternoon of a faun, and stravinsky's firebird and petrouchka were both premiered during the three years it took Ravel to produce and orchestrate Daphnis et Chloé. though it was, strictly speaking, "ballet music," ravel called daphnis a “choreographic symphony in three parts.” suite no. 2 represents the final third, comprising three movements which chronicle the reunion of the two young lovers after Chloe's kidnapping at the hands of pirates; their dramatic tribute to the god Pan, who was responsible for Chloe's rescue; and the Bacchanalian celebration that follows.
orchestrationally, Ravel is at his very best in this suite, which has become the most-performed version of this music since the relatively lukewarm reception to the full ballet (and maybe the most-performed orchestral work of his, period). he uses a huge orchestra:
flutes, alto flute, piccolo, oboes, english horn, clarinets, e-flat, bass clarinet, (three!) bassoons, contrabassoon
four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba
two harps, celesta
and a huge bevy of percussion instruments: timpani, cymbals, bass drum, field drum, snare drum, castanets, tambourine, glock.
and of course the wordless SATB choir.
Program notes follow:
The suite begins with daybreak (Lever du jour), and Ravel paints a luminous picture of a sacred grove with a brook represented by murmuring winds, harps, celeste, and strings, along with birdcalls from piccolo and solo violins. Soon daylight breaks and luscious melodies are passed throughout the orchestra, as the two title characters are reunited amid lush harmonies. The second movement, Pantomime, is remarkable for its extended, meandering wind solos. The transformation is ushered in by a solo oboe which calls a halt to the undulating figures in the winds and strings. A shepherd explains to Daphnis and Chloé that if Pan has saved Chloé, it is in honor of his doomed love for the beloved Syrinx. Daphnis and Chloé begin the reenactment of Pan and Syrinx's love story. Their dance is marked by fluid rhythms, elastic and languid tempi, and a famously difficult flute solo depicting Syrinx (who was transformed into a reed pipe, placing her forever out of reach). The music swings abruptly from mood to mood, now tenderly hesitant, then playfully flirtatious, then sweepingly grandiose – but throughout it retains a note of wistfulness, ultimately unfulfilled. The movement concludes with a broad and brilliant statement by the trumpets.
The unmistakable commencement of the post-drama celebration (Danse générale) is marked by a switch to a whirling meter in five. A motor of running triplets alternates throughout the orchestra, punctuated by bright interjections from trumpets and soprano clarinet. The music begins at a portentous distance but soon swells to a wild, volatile celebration, with subito soft moments followed by explosive outbursts. These increase steadily in intensity and frequency to build to a thrilling conclusion.
i find this entire suite totally compelling. i love ravel. there is something that i find so intuitive about his (initially) most non-intuitive stuff - his sense of rhythm when he mixes meters and gives offbeats to everyone else, his weird hesitations in the middle of phrases, the pressez fowards. ravel is awesome.
Clyne: rewind
because i will have to start writing pretty regular program notes and studying a large variety of scores, i've decided to revive this beginning with the notes that i had to write for the upcoming concert. this is a piece that was written in 2005 by mead composer-in-residence at chicago symphony.
there is a video on the cso website in which clyne talks about the composition of this piece, but i can't get it to load under any circumstances.
this is actually a pretty cool short piece in which she is inspired by both visual imagery and dance choreography. the key image is that of an analog video tape being quickly rewound, with “fleeting moments of skipping, freezing, and warping.” she also drew a lot of inspiration from the dance choreography of her friend kitty mcnamee, whom she admires for its use of gestures which repeatedly appear throughout a piece to “build and bind its narrative structure.”
the overall sound is a pretty cool sense of electronic tension which you're hit with almost immediately. a dramatic sustained note opens the piece, colored by lurching crescendi and diminuendi. strings enter with agitated sixteenths that are accented in unexpected places, creating a tautness that repeatedly but unpredictably grows and explodes. there's that stringy, noisy sense that you get when you listen to lots of electronics.
clyne also employs a number of different techniques to recall "warping and skipping": a high whining pitch is supplied by bowed crotales (small brass disks usually struck with a mallet); brass and strings are instructed to “bend” pitches and perform slow glissandi over many bars. in the cso video, she mentions that the gesture she credits as the “kernel” for the entire piece is the piano's cluster chords, which the player is instructed to play by striking the keyboard with their entire forearm (a gesture she remembers performing in frustration during the composition process before she realized she could actually use it).
there is one part close to the end which is at about half tempo and involves some string solos. suggestions on what this part represents? maybe the rewind mechanism is stalling but continuing to try to rewind.
the part which brings the piece to a literal level (and also into clyne's specialty of electronic music) is the last thirty seconds: as most of the orchestra falls silent, a short, pre-recorded segment of the piece is played in high-speed reverse for the final thirty seconds. so i think in most score/part sets for this a pre-recorded CD is included with the high quality .aiff file. we've put this on an ipod, which will be piped over the auditorium sound system. the "press play" instruction is given to the second percussion player, so it's actually controlled from within the ensemble. the writing around the entrance is such that the recording emerges from the texture, so i think in the case of slight delays in the playback or whatever it won't matter quite so much, and the file is merely played straight until the huge chord at the end which just cuts everything off.
there is a video on the cso website in which clyne talks about the composition of this piece, but i can't get it to load under any circumstances.
this is actually a pretty cool short piece in which she is inspired by both visual imagery and dance choreography. the key image is that of an analog video tape being quickly rewound, with “fleeting moments of skipping, freezing, and warping.” she also drew a lot of inspiration from the dance choreography of her friend kitty mcnamee, whom she admires for its use of gestures which repeatedly appear throughout a piece to “build and bind its narrative structure.”
the overall sound is a pretty cool sense of electronic tension which you're hit with almost immediately. a dramatic sustained note opens the piece, colored by lurching crescendi and diminuendi. strings enter with agitated sixteenths that are accented in unexpected places, creating a tautness that repeatedly but unpredictably grows and explodes. there's that stringy, noisy sense that you get when you listen to lots of electronics.
clyne also employs a number of different techniques to recall "warping and skipping": a high whining pitch is supplied by bowed crotales (small brass disks usually struck with a mallet); brass and strings are instructed to “bend” pitches and perform slow glissandi over many bars. in the cso video, she mentions that the gesture she credits as the “kernel” for the entire piece is the piano's cluster chords, which the player is instructed to play by striking the keyboard with their entire forearm (a gesture she remembers performing in frustration during the composition process before she realized she could actually use it).
there is one part close to the end which is at about half tempo and involves some string solos. suggestions on what this part represents? maybe the rewind mechanism is stalling but continuing to try to rewind.
the part which brings the piece to a literal level (and also into clyne's specialty of electronic music) is the last thirty seconds: as most of the orchestra falls silent, a short, pre-recorded segment of the piece is played in high-speed reverse for the final thirty seconds. so i think in most score/part sets for this a pre-recorded CD is included with the high quality .aiff file. we've put this on an ipod, which will be piped over the auditorium sound system. the "press play" instruction is given to the second percussion player, so it's actually controlled from within the ensemble. the writing around the entrance is such that the recording emerges from the texture, so i think in the case of slight delays in the playback or whatever it won't matter quite so much, and the file is merely played straight until the huge chord at the end which just cuts everything off.
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