Mikhail Ivanovich Glinka (1804-1857)
Overture to Russlan and Ludmilla
It was through the voice of Mikhail Glinka’s operas and other nationalistic works that Russian music began to be heard and respected in the west. The composer had the good fortune to be introduced to Russian folk and church music as well as western music and Russian literary works at an early age. Traveling to Italy and Germany for health reasons and to study and perform, Glinka met Bellini, Donizetti, Mendelssohn, and Berlioz. Although he benefitted from his studies abroad, he felt drawn to work in a Russian idiom rather than to continue as an “Italian.” The second of his two operas, Russlan and Ludmilla is based on a Pushkin verse tale set in 10th century pagan Russia. The plot, a mixture of fantastic, romantic, and satirical motifs, gave Glinka plenty of opportunity to create sparkling, colorful tunes. The Overture to Russlan and Ludmilla, a favorite showpiece in the concert repertoire, provides a fine sampling of the themes of the opera. Listen for racing violins, and, during the middle section, solos for nearly everyone else, including the timpani.
Nicolay Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908)
Capriccio Espagnol, op. 34
Alborada
Variazioni
Alborada
Scena e canto gitano
Fandango asturiano
Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov, admired as an unrivaled master of orchestration and important for his contribution to Russian opera, is best known today by most concert goers as the composer of the colorful works Scheherazade, Capriccio Espanole, and Russian Easter Festival. While the young Nikolay showed early talent for music, he initially pursued a naval career taking a commission in the Imperial Russian Navy. Back on shore after fulfilling a three year round-the world tour he became increasingly involved with music, resigning his naval commission in 1873. Despite limited theoretical training, he was offered, and accepted, a position teaching Practical Composition and Instrumentation at the St. Petersburg Conservatory where by studying furiously he managed to stay just ahead of his students. His compositional path was clearly influenced by the nationalistic works of Glinka, Russian folk music, orientalia, and anything else exotic. Glinka had brought a taste for Spanish music to Russia following his 2-year journey in Spain. Rimsky-Korsakov’s own tribute to Spanish music Capriccio Espanol, Op. 34 was meant to be a sequel to his Fantasy on Russian Themes, op. 33 for violin and orchestra. In writing the Capriccio, the composer changed his mind about the violin solo (saving that for his later work, Scheherazade) and instead made it a brilliant showpiece for the entire orchestra—although solo violin is featured prominently. He conducted the premiere at a public concert in St. Petersburg in November, 1887. His memoir reports its success with orchestra and public alike.
The fifteen minute piece designated to be played without pause is organized around the Spanish dance Alborada or morning song, a serenade accompanied by pipe and tabor. The Alborada’s first appearance is a larger-than-life serenade with full orchestra, plenty of percussion for the tabor, and solo clarinet playing the role of the pipe. The mood changes to variations on an Andalusian theme heard first on the horns, then in dialog with English horn. A flute cadenza leads us to the return of the Alborada with the addition of harp accompaniment and alternating solos of violin, flute, and clarinet. A brass fanfare announces Scena e canto Gitano (Scene and Gypsy Song). A variety of solo passages begins with violin and continues with flute, clarinet, oboe (with bassoons) and harp. This parade of tonal and rhythmic efforts leads directly into the final dance Fandango asturiano. A final revisit to Alborada with ever increasing speed serves as the coda to this colorful and popular work.
Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943)
Piano Concerto No. 3 in d minor, op. 30
Allegro ma non tanto
Intermezzo
Alla breve
In 1909, Rachmaninoff was scheduled to go on an American tour. He didn’t care much for Americans—he complained that they were much too obsessed with money and that the newspapers seemed to judge an artist’s value merely by how many times they were called back for bows. But the famous pianist had an obsession of his own. He wanted a car and he needed the American tour to raise funds for that project, so he buckled down and prepared to travel. That preparation included composing a new piano concerto. Rachmaninoff completed the work before leaving, but as he hadn’t had time to actually learn the piano part, he accomplished that task on a dummy piano aboard ship so that he was prepared for the first performance of his Piano Concerto No. 3 in d minor, Op. 30, in New York, November 28 of that year. During the first twenty years of its life the composer was this concerto’s chief proponent. It was only later, when the young Vladimir Horowitz made the piece his own, that the work finally gained popularity. Combining lyricism, excitement and virtuosity, musicians and public alike today consider this work on a par with the Rachmaninoff’s popular second concerto.
The third concerto begins with a brief murmuring from the orchestra and the simplest of introductions of the main theme from the piano, effectively easing us on to a roller coaster of themes. Mere words fail to describe the lyricism, fireworks, and sheer virtuosity that pianist, orchestra and listeners experience. Rather than observing a strictly typical concerto form (exposition with 1st and 2nd themes, development, recapitulation, and coda with a cadenza or two somewhere in the mix), Rachmaninoff seems almost to serve up a string of variations on the opening theme. After the piano’s initial statement, the orchestra takes it over and cascades of notes pour from the piano. The orchestra teases us with the possibility of a deeply felt soaring 2nd theme, but when the main 2nd theme does arrive it comes in two forms, one crisp, the other cantabile. When the massive cadenza comes along, it is so comprehensive that there is no need for a recapitulation, so the two main themes are briefly stated, and the movement ends quietly, in symmetry with its beginning. The Intermezzo is just that, a bridge between two movements which share thematic material. The pianist, who has had little time to breathe during the first movement, is given a break while the orchestra intones a beautiful extended passage. The piano sneaks back in pouring out increasingly rhapsodic episodes building to a waltz-scherzo-like section, which eventually winds its way back to the orchestral opening, leading us to think that we shall have a recapitulation. Instead, a few abrupt octaves from the piano propels us into the finale and its fantastical assortment of themes old and new—march-like, nostalgic, syncopated, soaring—something for every mood woven together into a soundscape only Rachmaninoff could fabricate. The triumphant, exhilarating conclusion cannot fail to bring the audience to its feet.
Program notes by Linda Mack. Copyright 2008.
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