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Mozart Sinfonia Concertante featuring Aisslinn Nosky on violin and Maureen Murchie on viola plus Mozart Marriage of Figaro Overture and Beethoven Symphony No. 7
Overture to The Marriage of Figaro, K. 492 Mozart composed his opera The Marriage of Figaro in late 1785 and early 1786; the manuscript of the overture is dated April 29, 1786. The Marriage of Figaro was first performed on May 1 of that year in Vienna. The overture is scored for pairs of flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, horns, and trumpets, with timpani and strings. Performance time is approximately four minutes. On November 11, 1785, Leopold Mozart complained that he had scarcely heard from his son Wolfgang: "He is up to his eyes in work on his opera The Marriage of Figaro," he wrote. Lorenzo Da Ponte, Wolfgang's librettist, later recalled the whirlwind pace of their collaboration: "As fast as I wrote the words, Mozart set them to music. In six weeks everything was in order." That is no doubt sheer exaggeration-by a man often given to overstatement-but much of the four-act comic opera apparently was composed between October 16, when Mozart finished his great piano quartet in G minor, and the first of December. The overture to The Marriage of Figaro was left till the very last moment, as was Mozart's practice. The manuscript is dated April 29, 1786, the same day he entered the work in his personal catalog of compositions. By then the orchestral parts for the opera had been copied and rehearsals had started. Figaro opened on May 1 at the Burgtheater in Vienna, with the composer conducting from the keyboard. It was well received there, and after it was given in Prague that December, Mozart enjoyed a popularity seldom known to composers during their lifetimes. "Here they talk about nothing but Figaro," he wrote when he visited Prague in January. "Nothing is played, sung, or whistled but Figaro. No opera is drawing like Figaro. Nothing, nothing but Figaro." The overture is a perfect curtain raiser. It crackles with excitement and is full of promise. The combination of frantic music and a hushed tempo suggests intrigue and conspiracy from the start; the warm glow of horns and winds assures us that this is, above all, a comedy. The pace is unrelentingly fast (we now know that Mozart tore up a page of slower music he intended as a contrasting middle section). In Peter Sellars's famous and controversial staging of the opera, set in New York City, the overture accompanied a typical Manhattan rush hour. Mozart was thinking of something far less urban, but the human heart has always been animated by complicated attachments and great expectations. Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola, K. 364 Throughout his childhood and teenage years Mozart spent an extensive amount of time traveling around Europe as a child prodigy, playing at various courts with his father and sister. In 1773 he was hired as a court musician in Salzburg, and although he was quite successful there, he wanted more. So, he began another period of travel in search of employment and in 1778 his search brought him to Paris, where he was undoubtedly exposed to various sinfonia concertantes, which were all the rage because they combined the most attractive features of the symphony with the tunefulness and technical virtuosity of the concerto. But he was unable to find a job, partly because he was now an arrogant and annoying “20 something” and no longer a “cute” and “cuddly” little genius. Mozart returned to “Salzburg slavery,” as he rather injudiciously called his local employment, and reluctantly resumed his work as composer, orchestra musician and organist in Archbishop Colloredo’s provincial musical establishment in Salzburg. Still inspired by the sinfonia concertantes he heard Paris he began to write two of his own. The first one he unfortunately abandoned; however, the second is the masterpiece that you will hear this afternoon. Although there is no evidence to support this, it is a charming thought that he might have composed the Sinfonia Concertante for a father- son musical outing: Papa on violin, Wolfgang on viola. The first movement, Allegro maestoso begins with a masterful introduction that incorporates many compositional techniques of Mozart’s time, including the Mannheim Walze, or Mannheim roller, in which the orchestra builds with a dramatic crescendo from piano to fortissimo. Once the introduction comes to a climax the crescendo dramatically reverses and the soloists emerge. Throughout the movement they continue to toss the principal thematic material back and forth; this culminates in a dramatic cadenza. The second movement, Andante, is one of Mozart’s early examples of a truly melancholy C-minor movement. The seriousness of this music is reinforced by the dark, rich sonority in the solo viola and the division of the lower strings into several parts. The finale is a rondo whose ingratiating theme is reminiscent of the rising trill motive of the first movement. The two recapitulations of the rondo theme are separated by extended episodes. After a cadenza-like accompanied passage that takes the soloists into the highest reaches of their instruments, the piece concludes with a series of bright, cadential harmonies. Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92 Consider the assessment by Goethe on first meeting Beethoven during the summer of 1812: “His talent amazed me; unfortunately, he is an utterly untamed personality, who is not altogether in the wrong in holding the world to be detestable, but surely does not make it any the more enjoyable either for himself or for others by his attitude.” We are told that the two men walked together through the streets of Teplitz, where Beethoven had gone for the summer, and exchanged cordial words. When royalty approached, Goethe stepped aside, tipping his hat and bowing deeply; Beethoven walked on, indifferent to mere nobility. This was a characteristic Beethoven gesture: defiant, individual, strongly humanitarian, intolerant of hypocrisy—and many listeners find its essence reflected in his music. But before confusing the myth with the man, consider that, throughout his life, Beethoven clung to the "van" in his name because it was so easily confused with "von" and its suggestion of lofty bloodlines. Without question, Beethoven's contemporaries thought him a complicated man, perhaps even the utterly untamed personality Goethe found him. He was a true eccentric, who adored the elevated term Tondichter (poet in sound) and refused to correct a rumor that he was the illegitimate son of the king of Prussia, but looked like a homeless person (his attire once caused his arrest for vagrancy). There were other curious contradictions: he was disciplined and methodical—like many a modern-day concertgoer, he would rise early and make coffee by grinding a precise number of coffee beans—but lived in a squalor he alone could tolerate. Certainly, modern scholarship, as it chips away at the myth, finds him ever more complex. We don't know what Goethe truly thought of his music, and perhaps that is just as well, for Goethe's musical taste was less advanced than we might hope (he later admitted he thought little of Schubert's songs). The general perception of Beethoven's music in 1812 was that it was every bit as difficult and unconventional as the man himself—even, perhaps, to most ears, utterly untamed. This is our greatest loss today. For Beethoven's widespread familiarity—of a dimension known to no other composer—has blinded us not only to his vision—so far ahead of his time that he was thought out of fashion in his last years—but to the uncompromising and disturbing nature of the music itself. His Seventh Symphony, for example, is so well known to us today that we can't imagine a time that knew Beethoven, but not this glorious work. But that was the case when the poet and the composer walked together in Teplitz in July 1812. Beethoven had finished the A major symphony three months earlier—envisioning a premiere for that spring that didn't materialize—but the first performance wouldn't take place for another year and a half, on December 8, 1813. That night in Vienna gave the rest of the nineteenth century plenty to talk about. No other symphony of Beethoven's so openly invited interpretation—not even his Sixth, the self-proclaimed Pastoral Symphony, with its bird calls, thunderstorm, and frank evocation of something beyond mere eighth notes and bar lines. To Richard Wagner, Beethoven's Seventh Symphony was "the apotheosis of the dance." Berlioz heard a ronde des paysans in the first movement. (Choreographers in our own time have proven that this music is not, however, easily danceable.) And there were other readings as well, most of them finding peasant festivities and bacchic orgies where Beethoven wrote, simply, vivace. The true significance of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony is to be found in the notes on the page—in his distinctive use of rhythm and pioneering sense of key relationships. By the time it is over, we can no longer hear the ordinary dactylic rhythm (a dotted eighth note followed by a sixteenth note) in the same way again, and—even if we have no technical terms to explain it—we sense that our basic understanding of harmony has been turned upside-down. Take Beethoven's magnificent introduction, of unprecedented size and ambitious intentions. He begins decisively in A major, but at the first opportunity moves away—not to the dominant (E major) as historical practice and textbooks recommended, but to the unlikely regions of C major and F major. Beethoven makes it clear that he won't be limited to the seven degrees of the A major scale (which contains neither C- nor F-natural) in planning his harmonic itinerary. We will hear more from both keys, and by the time he is done, Beethoven will have convinced us not only that C and F sound comfortably at home in an A major symphony, but that A major can be made to seem like the visitor! But that comes later in his scheme. First we move from the spacious vistas of the introduction into the joyous song of the Vivace. Getting there is a challenge Beethoven relishes, and many a music lover has marveled at his passage of transition, in which stagnant, repeated E's suddenly catch fire with the dancing dotted rhythm that will carry us through the entire movement. The development section brings new explorations of C and F, and the coda is launched by a spectacular, long-sustained crescendo that is said to have convinced Weber that Beethoven was "ripe for the madhouse." The Allegretto is as famous as any music Beethoven wrote, and it was a success from the first performance, when a repeat was demanded. At the indicated tempo it is hardly a slow movement, but it is sufficiently slower than the music that precedes it to provide a feeling of relaxation. By designing the Allegretto in A minor, Beethoven has moved one step closer to F major; he now dares to write the next movement in that unauthorized, but by-now-familiar, key. And he cannot resist rubbing it in a bit, by treating A major, when it arrives on the scene, not as the main key of the symphony, but as a visitor in a new world. One does not need a course in harmony to recognize that Beethoven has taken us through the looking glass, where black appears white, and everything is turned on its head. To get back where we belong, Beethoven simply shatters the glass with the two fortissimo chords that open the finale and throws us into a triumphant fury of music so adamantly in A major that we forget any past harmonic digressions. When C and F major return—as they were destined to do—in the development section, they sound every bit as remote as they did in the symphony's introduction, and we sense that we have come full circle. (Adapted from a note by Philip Huscher)
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Charles Villiers Stanford's Irish Rhapsody No.6 featuring Dr. Eric Olson on violin plus Percy Grainger's Irish Tune from County Derry (Danny Boy) and Ronan Hardiman's Lord of the Dance selections.
Irish Rhapsody No. 6 Stanford's Irish Rhapsodies, founded on the traditional airs of his native land, will, I believe, outlive all his longer orchestral works. No. 1 [1] of these became obstinately popular to the exclusion of the others, a fact which so displeased him that he expressed extreme annoyance whenever he heard it was to be played. It is, nevertheless, a delightful work, though inferior at all points to No. 2 [2] or the later "Ulster " Rhapsody [3], which is, perhaps, his most beautiful orchestral composition. None of the Rhapsodies are really rhapsodical. They are skilfully developed movements, perfectly proportioned and balanced with the greatest regard for thematic cohesion. This is not, however, the really vital quality which distinguishes them. Nothing Stanford did, except some of his songs, makes so strong an appeal, by reason of the wild natural poetry which is in them. The scoring, too, is more inspired than that of the symphonies, more full of light and shadow, of colour and glamour. If I wanted to impress a foreign unbeliever with the real beauty of British music at its best I should take him to hear a performance of the "Ulster" Rhapsody, that he might have a glimpse of what the "Fisherman saw at Lough Neagh," and of what the great Irish composer was able to reflect of this vision in his music. "Dark and true and tender is the North" is the quotation attached to the closing page of the score-a mere expression of an Orangeman's sympathies, probably-but the three adjectives describe the loveliness of the music itself in a way that no other words could do. It is a work of imperishable quality. By the time Stanford began composing his Irish Rhapsodies in 1902, he was at the height of his powers as a composer, conductor and teacher. The First Rhapsody Op 78, dedicated to Hans Richter, was hugely successful and remained a favourite of several conductors, including Hamilton Harty who directed it several times. Only this work and the more defiant Fourth Rhapsody Op 141 were published in full score, while the others were left in manuscript (excepting the Sixth Rhapsody Op 191 which was published in piano score only). The Irish Rhapsody No 3 Op 137 was one of two works in the series written for a soloist and orchestra. It was completed on 18 June 1913 but appears not to have been performed during Stanford’s lifetime. Moreover, most of Stanford’s works for soloist and orchestra were intended for a particular performer, but in this case there was none, neither does the manuscript bear any evidence of a dedicatee. By 1913 much of Stanford’s expression of his Irish identity had adopted a more political mantle. A staunch Unionist and a follower of Craig and Carson, he opposed all thought of Home Rule for Ireland and vehemently supported Ulster’s cause. This is notably overt and deliberate in the Fourth ‘Ulster’ Rhapsody of 1914. By contrast, the Third Rhapsody, which features the cantabile tone of the solo cello, is a more reflective, restrained work, rather melancholy in demeanour. Structured in two parts, the first section, over twice the length of the second, is an introverted, yet deeply melodious, yearning threnody and is conceived very much as an extended ‘song’ in the way it develops the generous three-part phraseology of ‘The Fairy Queen’, a melody he most likely drew from Edward Bunting’s collection of Irish folk tunes of 1796 (and which was ascribed to Carolan, the early eighteenth-century Irish harper and composer). A livelier second section, analogous perhaps to the operatic ‘cavatina-cabaletta’ constructions Stanford knew so well from Italian opera, is a lively Irish jig based on the Munster tune ‘The Black Rogue’ (a double-jig which Stanford included in his edition of the Petrie Collection published between 1902 and 1905 with the title ‘Brigid of the fair hair’). Much of the jig is boisterous in character, yet a shorter, slower section returns nostalgically to the mood of the first section, even making brief reference to its melodic material, before the jig returns to form an energetic conclusion. Selections from Lord of the Dance Lord of the Dance is an Irish dance show and dance production that was created, choreographed, and produced by Irish-American dancer Michael Flatley, who also took a starring role. The music for the show was written by Ronan Hardiman. The show takes place in a “Celtic” land called Planet Ireland (or it is sometimes interpreted as ancient/historical Ireland), with much Celtic-themed imagery and music. The story follows Flatley’s character, the “Lord of the Dance”, and his fight against the evil dark lord Don Dorcha from taking over Planet Ireland. The Lord of the Dance defeats the dark lord's invasion with help from a little spirit, a pixieor faerie of sorts. This spirit, who initially appears as some kind of court jester, is eternally positive, dancing and beaming at all times. The show begins with the little spirit playing “The Lord of the Dance” melody, solo, on tin whistle, before the dark forces come and take over the Celts. There is also a secondary theme of “good girl versus bad girl”, or "love versus lust", expressed through dance several times throughout the show. Saoirse, the Irish cailín (normally appearing in white or brighter colours), fights to win the love of the Lord of the Dance against the wicked Morrighan, the Temptress (usually appearing in all red or black dress). The stories are based on ancient Irish folklore and some biblical references; the title itself, along with the main musical theme, is taken from a contemporary hymn. Through tales of love, heartache, temptation, peace, battle, struggle and finally victory, the story of the Lord of the Dance’s triumph is told through dance and live music. The show begins with the number "Cry of the Celts". A female troupe sleeps in a semicircle with a girl dressed in gold, known as "Little Spirit" while winds accompany the scene. Seconds later, masked figures cloaked in black and bearing torches arrive and stand as statues while ambient new age music plays. Later, the Little Spirit rises from her sleep and plays the show's theme song on a tin whistle. She then awakens the troupe with magical dust. The Little Spirit leaves with the cloaked figures as the female troupe makes their first dance. Drum beats fill in and the show's main eponymous character, known as "Lord of the Dance" appears and dances before an elated crowd before being accompanied by the entire dance troupe. After a song by "Erin the Goddess" ("Suil A Ruin"), the Little Spirit activates a mechanical musical doll which then dances with the female troupe led by the lead female protagonist Saoirse ("Celtic Dream"). A terrifying performance of "Warriors" with suspenseful music follows, with dark lord Don Dorcha doing an introductory dance before being followed by his troupe. At the end of Warriors, the Little Spirit plays a trick on one of them. Morrighan the Temptress makes her introduction soon after ("Gypsy"). "Strings of Fire" kicks in with two female fiddlers. Later Saoirse leads the female troupe in fighting Morrighan and later changes to black inner clothing after a fight with the temptress ("Breakout"). They are then greeted by the Lord of the Dance himself and his troupe, who then dances into an a'capella number ("Warlords"). Another song by Erin the Goddess follows ("Gaelic Song") The eponymous number of the show ("Lord of the Dance") begins with a two pairs of males accompanying a pair of females in an introductory dance before the eponymous character dances to the shows' upbeat theme. The number ends with the title character being joined by his troupe. Lucas Richman's "Concerto for Violin: Paths to Dignity" featuring Mitchell Newman, violinist. The springboard for community engagement activities that forge relationships between musical institutions and homeless advocacy organizations. Plus, the Overture by Christopher Hart and Symphony No. 5 "Reformation" by Felix Mendelssohn.
Concerto for Violin: Paths to Dignity Homelessness in today’s society has reached a peak unparalleled in history. Even prior to the devastating long-term economic effects from the global pandemic, seventeen out of every 10,000 people in the United States were experiencing homelessness on a single night in January 2019 according to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). Those in the arts community have not been shielded from the financial downturn of the past year. Consequently, the solvency of artists and arts organizations across the nation is in extreme peril. However, it is in times of crisis that the Arts that are always found on the front line towards bringing back humanity and dignity because it is creativity that lies at the core of what it means to be human. It is with this in mind that discussions began between composer Lucas Richman and violinist Mitchell Newman for the creation of this new work for violin and orchestra for the 2022-2023 and 2023-2024 seasons. This piece addresses and serves as a catalyst for meaningful discussion, the connections between homelessness and mental health as well as the role the Arts can play in restoring humanity and dignity to the ever-growing population of displaced citizens. Movements:
Orchestration: 2 Flutes, 2 Oboes, 2 Clarinets, 2 Bassoons, 2 French Horns, 2 Trumpets, 1 Trombone, Timpani, 1 Percussion, Harp, Piano and Strings (standard woodwind doubling applies) Community engagement activities are a significant part of bringing “Paths to Dignity” to your city. Musical ensembles and organizations advocating on behalf of the homeless would have the option to participate in various scheduled activities prior and subsequent to any local performances of the concerto, including the following:
Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Opus 107 “Reformation” Felix Mendelssohn grew up in a cultured and well-to-do Jewish banking family in the city of Berlin. He showed an early talent for composing, playing the piano and painting. When the family moved to Paris in 1816, his father had his children baptized as Christians and adjusted the family name to Mendelssohn-Bartholdy. Christian and Enlightenment beliefs were important factors in Mendelssohn’s career. When he was just sixteen years old, Mendelssohn composed his Octet and the Midsummer Night’s Dream overture, two works, which are often hailed as the greatest manifestations of youthful genius in music history. In 1829 he helped kindle a new appreciation for Bach by organizing and conducting the first performance in a century of the St. Matthew Passion. Years later, when he conducted the work again at the Thomaskirche, where Bach had first presented it, the University of Leipzig awarded him an honorary doctorate. Mendelssohn’s letters to his friends and family are filled with his musical philosophy and personality. In the letter excerpted below, he ruminated on the subject of the meaning of music” “People often complain that music is too ambiguous, that what they should be thinking as they hear it is unclear, whereas everyone understands words. With me it is exactly the reverse . . . To me, individual words and entire speeches are so ambiguous, so vague, so easily misunderstood in comparison to genuine music, which fills the soul with a thousand things better than words. The thoughts that are expressed to me by music that I love are not too indefinite to be put into words, but on the contrary, too definite.” The “Reformation” Symphony was composed to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the “Augsburg confession,” that basic statement of the tenets of the Protestant faith drawn up by Melanchthon and approved by Luther. The actual celebration never took place. The 1830 revolution in Paris and scattered revolutions among the small city states in Germany were already causing so much dissention that no one in authority felt like celebrating anything. The slow introduction includes statements of the “Dresden Amen,” which was also used by Wagner in slightly different form in Parsifal. As the movement proper begins, there are also quotations from “Magnificat in the Third Tone,” and the “Nunc dimittis,” both from the Roman Catholic book of chants called the Liber Usualis. The Dresden Amen is heard again just before the final recapitulation near the end of the movement. The second movement is a delightful Mendelssohnian scherzo with trio, featuring antiphonal (call and response) treatment of the winds and strings. The short slow movement (Andante) is a recitative-like introduction to the last movement. A sustained note in the cellos and basses links the Andante to the Finale, whose form is a set of variations on each phrase of the chorale tune “Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott” (A mighty fortress is our God). This chorale, perhaps composed by Luther himself, has always held an important place in the hearts and minds of Protestants, especially Lutherans. Its melody is announced at by one flute alone. Gradually other winds, brass and strings join in as the tempo increases until the variations begin. It is interesting to note that in this movement the original instrumentation is increased by contrabassoon, serpent (an obsolete horn with a trumpet mouthpiece and flute-like finger holes), usually replaced by the tuba, and three trombones. The premiere of Sky-Tinted Water by Marko Bajzer, an electroacoustic symphonic work that celebrates the 50th anniversary of Voyageurs National Park. Plus, the premiere of the Piano Concerto by Eric Ewazen featuring pianist Tammy Miller and Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Op. 46 by Edvard Grieg.
Bajzer Hear the music of the universe—from both near and far. Rochester native and composer, Marko Bajzer composed Sky-Tinted Water to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Voyageurs National Park. The title, “Sky-Tinted Water,” is a reference to the name ‘Minnesota,’ which is a Dakota expression. A more accurate translation is ‘where the water is so still it reflects the clouds in the sky.’ This electroacoustic, symphonic work includes Bajzer on the keyboard to create the sounds of the park: the rhythmic rowing of paddles; the plaintive howl of a distant wolf; the four distinct vocalizations (the wail, the yodel, the tremolo, and the hoot) of the loon; and the infuriating buzz of the mosquito. This music reflects the beauty of the natural landscape and cultural history of northern Minnesota. From the composer: At their conception the national parks were a uniquely American idea; in fact, they are often referred to as America’s BEST idea. They were the direct result of the lived experiences of Americans and the values they held. This piece is thus not only a celebration of nature in America but also of its values; it is an expression of patriotism that I think all Americans can agree with. Title The title of the piece, “Sky-Tinted Water,” is a reference to the name ‘Minnesota,’ which is a Dakota expression. ‘Minnesota’ is often translated as ‘sky-tinted water,’ or ‘cloudy water,’ however the reality is more nuanced. The latter implies that the water is murky or turbid, and the former’s meaning is somewhat opaque. A more accurate translation is ‘where the water is so still it reflects the clouds in the sky.’ Thus it is not that the water is clouded with sediment, but rather that one can see the reflections of clouds in the water. At night, some can be so lucky as to see not the clouds, but the otherworldly curtains of light that make up the aurora being reflected in the water, creating a spectacular mirror effect that makes seeing the aurora in northern Minnesota a truly special experience. I intend the aurora to be central to the piece. Style It is not lost to me that new music can be polarizing among classical music lovers, and that orchestras assume risk when programming new works, and especially when commissioning them. I create music because I want people’s lives to be more beautiful, meaningful, and fulfilling. I want my music to be moving in some way, and that isn’t possible if the music is written in a musical language that audiences do not understand. My ultimate goal is to write music that is both accessible and relatable, but also obviously a product of the 21st century. With this piece specifically, my musically philosophical goals are not unlike early 20th century Impressionists, conveying moods and emotions of the subject rather than literal interpretations, however I have the added benefit of an additional century’s worth of harmonic language from which to draw. Additionally, with my experience as an orchestral bassoonist and a music teacher who had to learn to play all orchestral instruments to some degree, I place a high value and give much thought to writing idiomatic parts that musicians enjoy playing, and which enable them to sound their best. Electronics Taking after my mentor, Mason Bates, who has pioneered electro-acoustic orchestral music, the piece will also have an electronic component. There are only certain parks that I’m interested in for this project, and they are ones that have unique soundscapes. During my residencies I record sounds from the park and then assign them to a key on my keyboard, with which I then ‘play along’ with the orchestra. For my piece about Lassen Volcanic National Park for example, this included bubbling mudpots, hissing fumaroles, devastating landslides, and explosive eruptions. For Voyageurs this would include the sound of the rhythmic rowing of paddles; the plaintive howl of a distant wolf; the four distinct vocalizations (the wail, the yodel, the tremolo, and the hoot) of our state bird, the common loon; and the infuriating buzz of Minnesota’s other state bird, the mosquito. This would be integrated with the orchestra as an additional family of instruments, infusing the park into the concert hall, and expanding the orchestra’s timbrel palette. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ewazen Eric Ewazen was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1954. His composition teachers at the Eastman and Juilliard Schools and at Tanglewood have included Samuel Adler, Milton Babbitt, Gunther Schuller, and Joseph Schwantner. He has had works performed by the American Brass Quintet, the Greenwich (Connecticut) Symphony, and the Borealis Quintet (many of them commissions) at the Aspen, Tanglewood, Tidewater, and Caramoor festivals and elsewhere. He has taught at the Hebrew Arts School and the Lincoln Center Institute. Ewazen is on the faculty of The Juilliard School and has been a lecturer for the New York Philharmonic Musical Encounters Program since 1992. He has been composer-in-residence with the St. Luke’s Chamber Ensemble and the International Horn Society. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Opus 46 Edvard Grieg stands as the most essential composer in the history of Norwegian music, a distinction he clinched during his lifetime and one that endures in posterity. When he was growing up, his native country could offer a composer only limited opportunities for advanced study, so he left Norway in 1858 to enroll at the Leipzig Conservatory, a destination for many international music students of the time and a sturdy source of traditional study in musical fundamentals and composition. Although Grieg would later speak of the Leipzig Conservatory in unflattering terms, the four years he spent there were undeniably important to his development, thanks to his work with such eminent teachers as Ignaz Moscheles for piano and Carl Reinecke for composition. Following his conservatory studies Grieg spent a period in Copenhagen, which was enjoying the most cosmopolitan musical life of any city in Scandinavia at the time. There he developed a friendship with Rikard Nordraak, a compatriot who was spearheading a nationalistic movement among artists in Norway. Immediately following Nordraak’s early death, in 1866, Grieg returned to his native land, which would be his home from that point on. Norway’s most significant literary figure during that time was Henrik Ibsen (1828–1906), although his countrymen were slow to recognize that fact. Unlike Grieg, he enjoyed a strictly Norwegian upbringing. During his early years as a writer, Ibsen scraped by with the slight income he derived from work as a playwright, director, and administrator at theaters in Bergen and Christiania (later renamed Oslo). Success eluded him, and he grew so disenchanted that in 1864 he left for Italy, where he mostly remained in self-imposed exile for 27 years. While on the continent he penned a succession of admired plays: Brand, Peer Gynt (in 1867), A Doll’s House, Ghosts, An Enemy of the People, The Wild Duck, and Hedda Gabler. When Ibsen began sending parts of the Peer Gynt manuscript to his publisher, he explained the work’s starting point: “Peer Gynt was a real person who lived in the Gudbrandsal, probably around the end of the last century or the beginning of this one. ... Not much more is known about his doings than you can find in Asbjørnsen’s Norwegian Fairy Tales.... So I haven’t had much on which to base my poem, but it has meant that I have had all the more freedom with which to work on it.” Left to his own devices, Ibsen came up with a meandering tale about an anti-hero (as described by Rolf Fjelde, who translated the play into English) “with no ruling passion, no calling, no commitment, the eternal opportunist, the charming, gifted, self-centered child who turns out finally to have neither center nor self.” In the course of 40 scenes, the title character has a variety of adventures and travels as far as North Africa before arriving back in Norway for a hallucinatory finale in which he is faced with the strands of his life that have gone awry and probably ends up dying, although we can’t be sure. The verse-play met with reasonable success when published, but it was not staged until 1876, in Christiania, with accompanying music by Grieg. Neither the playwright nor the composer was in attendance for the occasion. Ibsen had written from Italy to ask Grieg to provide incidental music for that production, and the composer had accepted, misjudging the amount of music that would be required. While enmeshed in the project in 1874, he wrote to a friend: “Peer Gynt goes very slowly. It is a horribly intractable subject except for a few places ... And I have something for the hall of the trollking that I literally can’t bear to listen to, it reeks so of cowpads and super-Norwegianism.” In the end, however, he provided 26 separate items for the play (a few having been added for revivals), totaling about 90 minutes of music. Grieg extracted two concert suites from his Peer Gynt music, the first being published in 1888, the second in 1893. The First Suite is far the more famous, and for many decades it was a staple of music education curricula for the young. Most people probably assume that its opening movement, “Morning Mood,” depicts the sunlight of dawn playing among the fjords, but in the play (it falls in Act IV) it accompanies a sunrise in the North African desert. “Åse’s Death” (from Act III) involves the death of Peer’s mother, whom he treated ungratefully but whose passing he mourns deeply. “Anitra’s Dance” falls shortly after “Morning Mood” in Act IV of the play, where it serves as a seductive waltz for a dancing girl in the tent of an Arab chief. “The Hall of the Mountain King” takes us back to Act II, where Peer matches wits with a menacing troll king, although for some listeners it may summon up images of an obsessed Peter Lorre in the 1931 Fritz Lang film M. About the Performance
Step into the world of Rock 'n' Roll royalty as Anthony Shore's Elvis Tribute Show brings Elvis Presley's legendary performance to life. Accompanied by a talented band and the Bemidji Symphony Orchestra, this show promises a thrilling homage to the King of Rock 'n' Roll, offering an unforgettable evening of nostalgia while capturing the essence of Elvis's legendary performances. About Anthony At the age of 3, Anthony received his first Elvis record, and his love of a legend was born. As a child, he practiced his singing, and by the age of 16, he was performing professionally. Before relocating to the United States in 2011, Anthony toured Europe, performing to sell-out audiences in Spain, Cyprus, France, Tenerife, and London. Since moving to the States, Anthony has received numerous awards and enjoys getting to know people as he performs in a variety of private, public, and corporate settings. Anthony’s versatility allows him to perform in venues of all sizes, and he sets himself apart by producing quality shows throughout the year with his All-Star Band including horn and string sections. June 2025
Dear Friends of the BSO, What a tremendous BSO season we just wrapped up with the fitting and rousing finale of Sibelius' 2nd Symphony in May! It was a great finish to the 20th anniversary year with Dr. Beverly Everett as music director for the Bemidji Symphony Orchestra. Thank you for joining us this past season and for helping to bring the BSO mission to life: “to enrich and educate musicians and audiences of northern Minnesota through innovative orchestral experiences!” You are the BSO! You energize us with your generosity, your attendance, and your support. You are the reason we enjoy live orchestral experiences in this region of Minnesota. We are tremendously grateful for you. This season we have much to celebrate:
As the BSO evolves, we are experiencing some growing pains and a funding gap. We have grown too big to qualify for some of our traditional funding streams (grants), and the timeline for decisions on larger arts grants is longer. Ticket sales contribute only about one third of our total revenue. The revenue required to propel the BSO forward with continued quality programming includes contributions from individuals and businesses. It is in that spirit that we reach out to you today to ask for a year-end budget contribution.
Please consider how you can help the BSO balance our books at the end of June and kick off the 87th season in a strong financial position. Thank you for considering what you can! You may scan the code below, use this link for making a contribution online, or mail your contribution to: Bemidji Symphony Orchestra, P.O. Box 3136; Bemidji, MN 56619. Dear Bemidji Symphony Friends,
Our 2024/2025 season is off to an exciting, fun and busy start for all of us in the BSO family. From contemporary concertos to the fun music of Prince and Tina Turner, we have brought thousands of musical moments to our community already this season. And we have spread these moments even further through our Minnesota State Arts Board grant that allowed us to bring small group performances to 12 schools in the region. We have even created a children's choir that will make its debut at our annual holiday concert. It is always our goal to enrich the lives of our community, musicians and audience members through our live performances and creative programming. We strive not only to achieve this goal from concert to concert, but we want to ensure that our music reaches as many people as possible for many years to come. This season marks my 20th year with the Bemidji Symphony Orchestra, and we want to celebrate with you! Your generosity is ever so appreciated as our organization continues to grow and evolve. To show our appreciation, we're hosting a special sweepstakes—and every donation gives you a chance to win one of four fantastic prizes. Donate between December 1, 2024, and February 16, 2025, and you'll be entered into a random drawing for one of four exciting prizes: a stunning custom pendant from Ken K Thompson, a handmade, musically-themed quilt, two season tickets to the 2025-2026 season, and a Tutto Bene gift card to enjoy a delicious meal. Donations can be made online or by mail using the envelope provided. You can enter the sweepstakes without donating by signing up for our mailing and email list, but our hope is that you will help us reach our $20,000 fundraising goal for the year. For more information, scan or click the QR code below. Our goal is to show our appreciation for your support and reinvest every donated dollar back into the community through artistic experiences. Your tax-deductible gift enables the BSO to continue giving concerts of the highest artistic quality and creating programs that reach the community and youth. Your generosity helps us dream, grow and thrive. We hope to see you at our upcoming concerts or Bloody Mary Battle on January 26th. Thank you for your continued support. The Bemidji Symphony and I wish you, your family and friends, a most safe and blessed holiday season. Warmly, Beverly Everett, Music Director Bemidji Symphony Orchestra 20 Years: Looking back on some of the ingredients that make the BSO what it is. Today’s theme: “Program Building Based on Faith in People and Respect for Past Work.”
Musically speaking, I come from a strong line of program builders. A general understanding of program building in orchestras would imply: helping a group grow in numbers and artistic ability over a long period of time. Stephen Heyde at Baylor University, William Jones who built the Greater Twin Cities Youth Symphonies; Murry Sidlin who created Defiant Requiem; Joseph Giunta who has built the Des Moines Symphony over 3 decades; JoAnn Falletta who is currently celebrating 25 years with the Buffalo Philharmonic. And the late Larry Rachleff who built the program at Rice University. I could go on, but all of these people share similar traits: dedication to a particular place/community; unwavering belief in the human spirit; patience during tough times; persistence. When I first came to Bemidji, like many young conductors, I did not necessarily see myself staying here for a long time. But those influences mentioned above, kept inspiring me. I will never forget Ann Hayes saying, “We have a belief that this can be more than it is.” I know that over the course of my career, I have been accused of “over-programming.” Not making concerts too long; but selecting music that some would think not appropriate or doable by a “community orchestra.” The influence particularly of Stephen Heyde played a large roll in this tendency in me. I was a student at Baylor during the lean years for the orchestra- during a time of regrowth. (I would encourage you to go on YouTube and listen to recent recordings of the Baylor Symphony to see what it ultimately had become as of 2 years ago when Stephen retired.) Mr. Heyde was criticized by the faculty back then for programming pieces too difficult for the orchestra. But his unwavering belief in the students to rise above, to accomplish something beyond their dreams, paid off. And this became my standard with the Bemidji Symphony. Along with the belief that “this could be more,” and the belief in the musicians to keep raising the bar, was a dedication in me to be respectful of what had gone on before me. I was not creating an orchestra from scratch. In fact, the conductor, Tom Swanson, continued to PLAY in the BSO under my direction! This was unheard of. The support of Tom, and Pat Riley, Bobby Sellon, Ann Hayes, Eve Sumsky, and others who were/are long time members of the orchestra, played a crucial role in our growth together. In my years here, regardless of how proud I have been of the growth or how monumental our achievements, I have never wanted to tout that in a way that disrespected those who gave so much of their time, resources and talent to make the BSO what it is today. I want to celebrate these 20 years with the BSO and celebrate those who have worked tirelessly (and usually without pay) to build this program. I want to celebrate achievements like concerts with André Watts, the Defiant Requiem, Mahler 2, working with Carol Wincenc and others, and to look forward enthusiastically to the future to dream even bigger for the BSO! Maestra Beverly Everett |
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The BSO's activities are made possible in part by the voters of Minnesota through grants from the Minnesota State Arts Board and the Region 2 Arts Council, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund.
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