The Moldau
Bedrich Smetana (1824-1884)
The Philharmonic last performed this work on November 12, 1988 with then-Music Director Andrew Massey conducting. The Moldau is scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, harp and strings.
Má Vlast was an artistic triumph born of tragedy. During the summer of 1874, Smetana’s health began to deteriorate in general. More specifically, he was experiencing hearing difficulties. Following some treatments, this condition seemed to improve slightly. Then, on the morning of October 20, Smetana awoke permanently deaf. During the previous two years, he had been planning a monumental orchestral cycle dedicated to his homeland, and his deafness would not deter him from his work. Like Beethoven, Smetana’s art itself became his driving force. By mid-November, Vysehrad, the first symphonic poem of the cycle, was completed, followed by Vltava (The Moldau) a few weeks later and Sárka the following January. Smetana took four years to complete the remaining three symphonic poems, composing two operas, chamber works and piano music during this period. When finished, Má Vlast represented to Czechs and to the rest of the world what John Clapham describes as “a cross-section of Czech history and legend and impressions of its scenery, and as a whole [it] conveys vividly to us Smetana’s view of the ethos and greatness of his nation.”
The composer himself prepared the following descriptive note on The Moldau (translated by John Clapham):
The work depicts the course of the Vltava, beginning from the two small sources, the cold and the warm Vltava, the joining of both streams into one, then the flow of the Vltava through forests and across meadows, through the countryside where gay festivals are just being celebrated; by the light of the moon a dance of water nymphs; on the nearby cliffs proud castles, mansions, and ruins rise up; the Vltava swirls in the St. John’s rapids, flows in a broad stream as far as Prague, the Vysehrad appears, and finally the river disappears in the distance as it flows majestically into the Elbe.
Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104
Antonin Dvorák (1841-1904)
This concerto was last performed by the Philharmonic on March 15, 2003 with Music Director Larry Rachleff on the podium and Ralph Kirshbaum as soloist. In addition to solo cello, the work is scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 3 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, timpani, percussion and strings.
The musical world was taken somewhat by surprise when Dvorák unveiled his new cello concerto in 1895. An astonished Brahms even declared, “Why on earth did I not know it was possible to write a cello concerto like this? If I had known, I would have written one long ago!” (And quite possibly, Dvorák’s cello concerto is the reason Brahms never composed one.) The Cello Concerto in B Minor was the last of Dvorák’s “American” compositions, written during his final year at New York’s National Conservatory. His homesickness during this period is apparent in this work, with its generous helping of Slavonic elements. The rhythm and general flavor of the first theme can be nothing but Bohemian, and subsequent ideas are distinctly and romantically Central-European. After we hear these from just the orchestra, the cello enters and presents an elaborate commentary on them. In the last portion of the movement, the ideas are brought back in reverse order, ending with a dramatic statement of the opening material.
In the Adagio, the serene song-like mood of the opening is interrupted suddenly by the full orchestra. The heart of this middle section is a reminiscence of Dvorák’s song, “Leave Me Alone,” composed many years before. While writing the Cello Concerto, Dvorák learned that his sister-in-law, Josefina Kaunitzová, had become gravely ill. The composer had been in love with Josefina at one time, and this song was a particular favorite of hers.
In the finale, the composer proposes several themes, contrastingly rhythmic or song-like. The cello is required to play some of its most virtuosic music but also some of the work’s most heartfelt singing lines. The final closing section is perhaps the most amazing part of the concerto. Dvorák was still working on the concerto but had drafted the final movement, when he learned of the death of Josefina. At that point, he replaced the concerto’s perfunctory ending with a lengthier one. Here, snatches of themes from the previous movements return, particularly the song , “Leave me alone,” a memorial to the composer’s early love. As the finale closes, the music gradually becomes softer, but then it swells again. At the end, we hear the entire orchestra, and the movement concludes in a stormy mood.
Sinfonietta
Leoš Janácek (1854-1928)
This is a Philharmonic Premiere Performance of any Janacek work. Sinfonietta is scored for piccolo, 4 flutes,2 oboes, English horn, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 6 trumpets, 4 trombones, 2 tenor tubas, bass tuba, timpani, percussion, harp and strings.
The initial inspiration for most works by Janácek came from literary or experiential stimuli. This was also true of the inception of his Sinfonietta. One sunny day he was sitting in the park of the little town of Písek with Kamila, the love of his old age, listening to a band concert. Janácek was impressed by the trumpet section, which stood up to play each of their fanfares. That experience, plus Czechoslovakia’s recent independence, plus a commission for some fanfare music for a gymnastic festival, all combined to draw out of the composer the very youthful, energetic fanfares that open and close his great instrumental masterpiece, the Sinfonietta. As he was completing the work in 1926, he referred to it modestly as “a pretty little Sinfonietta with fanfares,” but went on to say that it expresses “the contemporary free man, his spiritual beauty and joy, his strength, courage and determination to fight for victory.” This explains why he originally titled his work Military Sinfonietta and dedicated it to the Czech Armed Forces.
Although Janácek dropped “Military” from the title, he carried the image of a military band into the music. To an already large orchestra he added an additional brass section that he directs to play standing. The powerful first move-ment (the gymnastic fanfares) is scored for the brass and timpani (two players). Its short repeated sections present kaleidoscopic variations on two simple ideas.
Like his countryman, Dvorák before him, Janácek was deeply influenced by Czech folk music. He does not, however, quote it directly, but synthesizes new themes based on familiar tunes. Thus, the main theme of the second movement derives from a Moravian song, and other ideas in the movement are also folk-derived.
Janácek’s orchestrational style in the Sinfonietta is mosaic. In the third movement, he also employs mosaic formal construction, serenading the listener with a parade of varied musical thoughts. A bell reminds us that once Janácek called the movement “The Queen’s Monastery,” after the place where he had been a chorister in his youth and about which he had developed hidden fears.
“The Street” was Janácek’s first title to the fourth movement, whose maintheme is reminiscent of a children’s street song. Heard 14 times from the trumpets, this short melody incites comments from the rest of the orchestra. The chimes in the middle might represent a trolley.
The opening sections of the finale focus on intense, high woodwinds and strings. Building tension through crisis after crisis, the music arrives at a triumphant reprise of the entire first movement. Now the brass and timpani are joined by the full orchestra for a powerful conclusion that fully illustrates Janácek’s patriotic words, “We are a people that must take their place in the world. We are the heart of Europe. And the beating of this heart should be audible to Europe.”
