Furioso!

Bohuslav Martinu (1890–1959)
Variations on a Theme of Rossini for cello and piano (1942)

Program note by Lisa Bergman

Considered one of the greatest Czech composers, Martinu himself had an explanation for what we are hearing today: “The artist is always searching for the meaning of life, his own and that of mankind, searching for truth. A system of uncertainty has entered our daily life. The pressures of mechanization and uniformity to which it is subject call for protest and the artist has only one means of expressing this, by music.”

With Martinu’s statement in mind, what do GiacomoRossini, Pablo Picasso, and Gregor Piatigorsky have in common? In the case of this work, it’s Cubism – the fragmentation and abstraction of subjects. Martinu is the mad scientist in his laboratory composing his Variations on a Theme of Rossini FOR Piatigorsky. The theme is – fair and square (no pun intended) – by Rossini (from his opera La Cenerentola), but it doesn’t stay that way. Much as Picasso challenged traditional values of space, form, and perspective to create multi-faceted, two dimensional figures on his canvases, Martinu lets us heara cubist’s take on a lovely tune, and the deconstruction of it before our very ears! Fasten your seatbelts for a rocky ride.

Bohuslav Martinu in his New York apartment, 1942–43.
(Photo: Bohuslav Martinu Centre in Policka, Czech Republic.
Courtesy of The Dvorák American Heritage Association)

Joseph Haydn (1732–1809)
Piano Trio in E Major, Hob. XV:28 (1797)

Program note by Lisa Bergman

Henry Ford forced a personal style limitation on his customers by being famously emphatic about the color range of his Model T: black – and ONLY black! Joseph Haydn grappled with a formidable creative limitation set on him by the quality of local instruments: the ONLY keyboards in Austria in his day were weak and bashful. Resigned to finding a solution when composing chamber music with keyboard, Haydn cleverly compensated by doubling the bass line of the keyboard parts with low strings. Any port in a storm, right? UNTIL something unexpected and empowering happened: Haydn discovered the new and powerful Broadwood pianos available throughout England! Quickly and confidently, he composed three new piano trios, including this one, worthy of virtuoso keyboardists everywhere. No tinkering needed.

The E Major Piano Trio is surprising in many ways. The pizzicato in the strings WITH staccato piano bass notes gives the illusion of a harp, while a gorgeous legato melody is played by the pianist’s right hand. Then, with daring and unusual harmonic shifts, Haydn surprises the players with key changes that are alarming until their “Aha” moments reveal a clever practical joke. The finale both meanders and scampers in quirky ways. How to explain this creative behavior? Remember, he was relegated to the rural location of his place of employment, the Esterhazy Palace, 50 miles from Vienna and a 12 hour trip by horse-drawn coach! Haydn’s explanation is simple and revealing: “There was no one near to confuse me, so I was forced to become original.”

“I listened more than I studied…
therefore little by little my knowledge
and ability were developed.”
– Joseph Haydn

Alberto Ginastera (1916–1983)
String Quartet No. 2, Op. 26 (1958, rev. 1968)

Program note by Lisa Bergman

Nothing inspires like a deadline, right? Not for Ginastera! “Creation is always for me a painful and slow process,” he said. “I cannot write quickly, as other composers do, and I am never satisfied with my first ideas. I am always struggling with my own self and trying to attain perfection. That is why I dislike promising fixed dates, because in many cases it would be almost impossible to keep my word.”

So, thank goodness for Harold Spivacke, Chief of the Music Division at the Library of Congress, who was Ginastera’s project manager in the Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Foundation’s annual festival that commissioned String Quartet No. 2. Spivacke reassured Ginastera greatly by saying, “We know that the creative activity of a composer is something that cannot be geared to a clock…I shall continue to hope that the work will be ready on time, but if it is not, I shall not hold it against you.”

Was the deadline met? Not by a long shot. Two years later, in 1958, Ginastera’s “neo-expressionism” string quartet was presented to the world. Each movement is individually described by the Argentinian-born Ginastera with key words – rustic, anguished, magic, rhapsodic, and furious. The virtuosic special effects are Hitchcockian: gasps, scampering mice, bouncing balls, sirens, ghosts, and shots. His surprise is a “bonus” rhapsodic movement built from a series of cadenzas on each of the instruments before diving into the wild dance of the finale.

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906–1975)
Prelude for two cellos and piano, Op. 97 (1955)

Program note by Lisa Bergman

Shostakovich was at times censored and revered. Under Stalin’s dictatorship, he would be praised for his brilliance, and then without warning, attacked by authorities for his works, and performances of them would be banned. His ten-year-old son was even forced to publicly denounce him. He saw colleagues and friends sent off to labor camps in the Soviet Union, which was just the beginning of Stalin’s Reign of Terror, during which nearly two million people died. Life in Russia during Shostakovich’s lifetime was like playing a game in which the rules were never clear, but the price for breaking them was death.

It’s no small wonder that so much of his music is dark, crunchy, painful, and intense. But a ray of sunshine peaks through with Five Pieces for Two Violins and Piano, harkening back to his years as a young student playing the piano in a silent movie theater. He was active in the Soviet Union’s huge film industry and composed scores for 36 motion pictures. To supplement his income, he asked his friend Lev Atovmian to arrange suites of his film and ballet music for intimate performances in homes and schools. Each of the Five Pieces in the suite tells a short story. The Prelude (arranged here for two cellos and piano) sets the sentimental stage.

Gabriel Fauré (1845–1924)
Piano Quartet No. 1 in C minor, Op. 15 (1876–1883)

Program note by Lisa Bergman

Gabriel Fauré was no stranger to keeping his nose to the grindstone. He could have written a book on effective habits of successful people. Likely a workaholic, he had a stunning career as a church organist, choirmaster, director of the Paris Conservatory, private music teacher, and composer (during summer breaks and whenever he had time). His music was widely known and performed to great acclaim. But all work and no play has its effects. He was in emotional turmoil as he began composing his Piano Quartet in C minor, his four-month engagement to Marianne Viardot (the daughter of the famous French mezzo-soprano Pauline Viardot) having recently ended.

The first movement has the feel of an involved conversation between the instruments, not reaching a conclusion until the very last lines. The Scherzo is playful and bubbly. But it’s the Adagio that carries a sense of loss, perhaps grieving the ill-fated engagement. After the première of the work, Fauré jettisoned the original Finale, and seven years later (1876) composed the Finale we hear today, vibrant and dazzling, daring to include some twentieth-century spikes. The surprises continue as the work barrels toward the finish but shockingly hits a concrete wall, seeing stars as it recovers, floating briefly and then careening toward a jubilant finale!