Program Notes
The Swan, the Whale, and the Lark
January 13, 2018
The Carnival of the Animals, Camille Saint-Saëns
I. Introduction and royal march of the lion
II. Cocks and hens III. Wild asses
IV. Tortoises V. Elephants
VI. Kangaroos VII. Aquarium
VIII. People with long ears
IX. Cuckoo in the heart of the woods
X. Aviary XI. Pianists
XII. Fossils XIII. The swan
XIV. Finale
Like a trip to the zoo, “The Carnival of the Animals” is supposed to be fun. So fun, in fact, that its composer Camille Saint-Saëns feared it would ruin his image. Though he banned most of it from public performances until after his death, this suite has become one of his most beloved scores today. Saint-Saëns was supposed to have been working on his Third Symphony, when, following a disastrous concert tour, he took a break in 1881 to compose the piece in a small Austrian village. It is scored for two pianos, two violins, viola, cello, double bass, flute, clarinet, glass harmonica and saxophone. He had apparently intended to write the work for his students at the École Niedermeyer, but it was first performed at a private concert. A second concert included in its audience no less a personage than Franz Liszt, a friend of the composer. Saint-Saëns was adamant about no public performance of “Carnival” and relented only by allowing the famous cello solo, “The Swan,” to be published during his lifetime.
Each of the suite’s fourteen movements introduces a different animal or group of animals, with a small number of instruments mimicking the creatures’ voices, or the way they move. At the same time, Saint-Saëns pokes sly fun at the vulnerable moments of the music of his time. “The Royal March of the Lion” forms the introduction, the pianos playing a bold tremolo, under which the strings enter with a stately theme. Soon the pianos strike up a march as the strings provide a mighty feline melody.
Also using just stringed instruments and piano, Saint-Saëns illustrates the tortoise’ plodding, with an ultra-slow version of Offenbach’s infernal “Orpheus in the Underworld,” known to many as “Can-Can”. The ponderous elephant is caricatured by a section for double bass and piano. Here a waltz-like triplet figure in the piano is coupled with the basses humming the melody of Berlioz’ Dance of the Sylphs,” transposed down by Saint-Saëns from the highest, lightest woodwinds to the lowest (and slowest) instruments in the orchestra. In the shortest movement, “Personages with Long Ears,” the composer creates a conversation between two braying donkeys via loud, high violin notes. (Many believe the joke here is on the critics, by their comparison with these beasts.) Another satirical moment is the eleventh section, “Pianists,” in which the composer makes fun of his own kind by mimicking very young musicians’ clumsy scale exercises (no mother could miss the intention!).
“Carnival” also journeys into other peaceful territories. An isolated clarinet re-creates the scene of a birdcall (borrowed from Beethoven?). In the dream-like “Aquarium,” keyboard instruments echo like a music box over the haunting and misty chords of violins and violas.
Near the end, the melancholy yet lovely “Swan” makes it clear that, in spite of all the joking, we should take Saint-Saëns as the serious composer he wanted to be.
The finale mirrors the Lions’ royal entrance again, while gathering the voices of the other animals. The braying donkey “critics” have one last sardonic laugh just before the triumphant final chords drive home the joke. By Roberta Mielke
Voice of the Whale, George Crumb
I. Vocalise II. Sea Theme
III. Archeozoic IV. Proterozoic
V. Paleozoic VI. Cenozoic
VII. Sea-Nocturne
Born in 1929, George Crumb continues to have a distinguished international career. He was self-taught as a pianist and composer until the age of 17, when he attended a local West Virginia music school, followed by the University of Illinois, University of Michigan, a Fulbright in Berlin, and back to Michigan where he finished his doctorate in 1959. He moved to Boulder, where he taught at the University of Colorado until 1964, then eventually to the University of Pennsylvania, where he taught until retirement in 1997. Recipient of the Pulitzer Prize, several honorary doctorates and numerous other awards, his music is known for its use of new techniques for playing old instruments, as well as the use of unusual instruments (cowbells, electric saw, tuned water glasses, sitar and more). While in Boulder he became a close friend of David Burge, a CU pianist-composer strongly committed to new music, and in 1962 they worked together on Five Pieces, Crumb’s first work that involved going inside the piano and plucking the strings. Crumb has said that Burge had a major influence on his work. (Earlier composers that Crumb has named as influences are Debussy, Bartok, Mahler and Charles Ives – an interesting mix.) His 1972, 12-piece Makrokosmos I (a tour-de-force for solo amplified piano) is also dedicated to Burge, as are some other works for piano. Burge went on to the Eastman School of Music, where he was chairman of the Piano Department. Burge and Crumb, after both had retired, were appointed in 2002 to a joint residency at Arizona State University. Crumb and his wife currently reside in Pennsylvania, where he continues to work on new compositions.
The Voice of the Whale, written in 1971, draws on recordings of the sounds of the humpback whale, sounds that are surprisingly musical. Crumb’s composition is grouped structurally into three parts – the middle part has five variations named after geologic time periods. The first movement is subtitled “for the beginning of time” and the last “for the end of time.” The three instruments, all amplified for concert performance, utilize “extended techniques”: the flutist sings while playing in the first movement, the piano uses strummed strings, paper clips, kitchen gadgets and harmonics created by stopping certain strings, the cello is tuned (B-F#-D#-A) in scordatura, some small cymbals are played by the cellist and flutist, the players are encouraged wear masks (to emphasize the “impersonal forces of nature”) and stage lighting is to be deep blue if feasible. The ultimate effect is highly theatrical and the listener hears the cries of a seagull, the whale sounds and a quotation of Richard Strauss’ Also sprach Zarathustra.
The list of compositions by Crumb is long and the works are varied – there are unusual combinations of instruments, many vocal works, and more to come. By Robert Molison
String Quartet Op. 64 No. 5, “The Lark”, Joseph Haydn
I. Allegro moderato
II. Adagio cantabile
III. Menuetto. Allegretto
IV. Finale. Vivace
The biography of Haydn reads like a soap opera – his childhood was an unstable, precarious existence. At age five he was sent to the home of a family friend who schooled him for two years, with a strong emphasis on music. Then he moved to Vienna where he became a choirboy at the cathedral. By age 17 he was completely on his own. Music was clearly his destiny, and success came slowly but surely. The turning point came in 1761 when he was appointed to the Esterhazy court in Eisenstadt, Austria, 26 miles south of Vienna. There he spent three decades, enjoying complete control of the estate’s musical activities and a lovely insulated environment in which to compose. It was a far cry from his early years, and he became a self-made man with a zeal for learning, love of nature and acquired security. During this time he became a friend of Mozart and other notable musicians, and for a while he taught Beethoven. In these years he “set the standard and direction for the symphony, the string quartet and even the sonata.”
After the death of Nicolaus of Esterhazy, Haydn left, went to Vienna for a while and then moved on to the British Isles. Aware of the London concerts that would soon follow, he had composed the six string quartets of Op. 64 at the end of his time in Esterhazy. (Haydn had visited London, by then a celebrated artist, and already had commissions to produce his series of London symphonies.) These quartets were dedicated to Johann Tost, a violinist in Haydn’s orchestra (and dealer in musical manuscripts). The six quartets were written in 1790, published the next year. The “Lark” quartet, number 5 of this set, is likely the best known of the group.
Actually this quartet has two nicknames. “The Lark” refers to the first violin’s singing melody in the first movement – some think of this as a winged melody. It is introduced by the second violin in a little theme (F#-G-F#-E-D) that later appears in the second movement (different key, a lovely aria for the first violin). Three notes from this little theme slip into the third movement, a dance with a minor key trio section in the middle. The bright and energetic final movement is the source of this quartet’s other nickname “The Hornpipe.” This nickname was applied at the event of the quartet’s debut performances in England, a reference to a British sailors’ dance. The hidden theme from the opening of the first movement reappears in the final movement in the second violin, a clever ploy by Haydn (who injected much humor into his creations). The work has been designated as superior entertainment in four acts described as “a story, a song, a dance and a party.” It has also been said that this quartet displays Haydn’s “mature mastery of the medium he practically invented.” By Roberta Mielke
Program notes may draw on open-access web resources.
I. Introduction and royal march of the lion
II. Cocks and hens III. Wild asses
IV. Tortoises V. Elephants
VI. Kangaroos VII. Aquarium
VIII. People with long ears
IX. Cuckoo in the heart of the woods
X. Aviary XI. Pianists
XII. Fossils XIII. The swan
XIV. Finale
Like a trip to the zoo, “The Carnival of the Animals” is supposed to be fun. So fun, in fact, that its composer Camille Saint-Saëns feared it would ruin his image. Though he banned most of it from public performances until after his death, this suite has become one of his most beloved scores today. Saint-Saëns was supposed to have been working on his Third Symphony, when, following a disastrous concert tour, he took a break in 1881 to compose the piece in a small Austrian village. It is scored for two pianos, two violins, viola, cello, double bass, flute, clarinet, glass harmonica and saxophone. He had apparently intended to write the work for his students at the École Niedermeyer, but it was first performed at a private concert. A second concert included in its audience no less a personage than Franz Liszt, a friend of the composer. Saint-Saëns was adamant about no public performance of “Carnival” and relented only by allowing the famous cello solo, “The Swan,” to be published during his lifetime.
Each of the suite’s fourteen movements introduces a different animal or group of animals, with a small number of instruments mimicking the creatures’ voices, or the way they move. At the same time, Saint-Saëns pokes sly fun at the vulnerable moments of the music of his time. “The Royal March of the Lion” forms the introduction, the pianos playing a bold tremolo, under which the strings enter with a stately theme. Soon the pianos strike up a march as the strings provide a mighty feline melody.
Also using just stringed instruments and piano, Saint-Saëns illustrates the tortoise’ plodding, with an ultra-slow version of Offenbach’s infernal “Orpheus in the Underworld,” known to many as “Can-Can”. The ponderous elephant is caricatured by a section for double bass and piano. Here a waltz-like triplet figure in the piano is coupled with the basses humming the melody of Berlioz’ Dance of the Sylphs,” transposed down by Saint-Saëns from the highest, lightest woodwinds to the lowest (and slowest) instruments in the orchestra. In the shortest movement, “Personages with Long Ears,” the composer creates a conversation between two braying donkeys via loud, high violin notes. (Many believe the joke here is on the critics, by their comparison with these beasts.) Another satirical moment is the eleventh section, “Pianists,” in which the composer makes fun of his own kind by mimicking very young musicians’ clumsy scale exercises (no mother could miss the intention!).
“Carnival” also journeys into other peaceful territories. An isolated clarinet re-creates the scene of a birdcall (borrowed from Beethoven?). In the dream-like “Aquarium,” keyboard instruments echo like a music box over the haunting and misty chords of violins and violas.
Near the end, the melancholy yet lovely “Swan” makes it clear that, in spite of all the joking, we should take Saint-Saëns as the serious composer he wanted to be.
The finale mirrors the Lions’ royal entrance again, while gathering the voices of the other animals. The braying donkey “critics” have one last sardonic laugh just before the triumphant final chords drive home the joke. By Roberta Mielke
Voice of the Whale, George Crumb
I. Vocalise II. Sea Theme
III. Archeozoic IV. Proterozoic
V. Paleozoic VI. Cenozoic
VII. Sea-Nocturne
Born in 1929, George Crumb continues to have a distinguished international career. He was self-taught as a pianist and composer until the age of 17, when he attended a local West Virginia music school, followed by the University of Illinois, University of Michigan, a Fulbright in Berlin, and back to Michigan where he finished his doctorate in 1959. He moved to Boulder, where he taught at the University of Colorado until 1964, then eventually to the University of Pennsylvania, where he taught until retirement in 1997. Recipient of the Pulitzer Prize, several honorary doctorates and numerous other awards, his music is known for its use of new techniques for playing old instruments, as well as the use of unusual instruments (cowbells, electric saw, tuned water glasses, sitar and more). While in Boulder he became a close friend of David Burge, a CU pianist-composer strongly committed to new music, and in 1962 they worked together on Five Pieces, Crumb’s first work that involved going inside the piano and plucking the strings. Crumb has said that Burge had a major influence on his work. (Earlier composers that Crumb has named as influences are Debussy, Bartok, Mahler and Charles Ives – an interesting mix.) His 1972, 12-piece Makrokosmos I (a tour-de-force for solo amplified piano) is also dedicated to Burge, as are some other works for piano. Burge went on to the Eastman School of Music, where he was chairman of the Piano Department. Burge and Crumb, after both had retired, were appointed in 2002 to a joint residency at Arizona State University. Crumb and his wife currently reside in Pennsylvania, where he continues to work on new compositions.
The Voice of the Whale, written in 1971, draws on recordings of the sounds of the humpback whale, sounds that are surprisingly musical. Crumb’s composition is grouped structurally into three parts – the middle part has five variations named after geologic time periods. The first movement is subtitled “for the beginning of time” and the last “for the end of time.” The three instruments, all amplified for concert performance, utilize “extended techniques”: the flutist sings while playing in the first movement, the piano uses strummed strings, paper clips, kitchen gadgets and harmonics created by stopping certain strings, the cello is tuned (B-F#-D#-A) in scordatura, some small cymbals are played by the cellist and flutist, the players are encouraged wear masks (to emphasize the “impersonal forces of nature”) and stage lighting is to be deep blue if feasible. The ultimate effect is highly theatrical and the listener hears the cries of a seagull, the whale sounds and a quotation of Richard Strauss’ Also sprach Zarathustra.
The list of compositions by Crumb is long and the works are varied – there are unusual combinations of instruments, many vocal works, and more to come. By Robert Molison
String Quartet Op. 64 No. 5, “The Lark”, Joseph Haydn
I. Allegro moderato
II. Adagio cantabile
III. Menuetto. Allegretto
IV. Finale. Vivace
The biography of Haydn reads like a soap opera – his childhood was an unstable, precarious existence. At age five he was sent to the home of a family friend who schooled him for two years, with a strong emphasis on music. Then he moved to Vienna where he became a choirboy at the cathedral. By age 17 he was completely on his own. Music was clearly his destiny, and success came slowly but surely. The turning point came in 1761 when he was appointed to the Esterhazy court in Eisenstadt, Austria, 26 miles south of Vienna. There he spent three decades, enjoying complete control of the estate’s musical activities and a lovely insulated environment in which to compose. It was a far cry from his early years, and he became a self-made man with a zeal for learning, love of nature and acquired security. During this time he became a friend of Mozart and other notable musicians, and for a while he taught Beethoven. In these years he “set the standard and direction for the symphony, the string quartet and even the sonata.”
After the death of Nicolaus of Esterhazy, Haydn left, went to Vienna for a while and then moved on to the British Isles. Aware of the London concerts that would soon follow, he had composed the six string quartets of Op. 64 at the end of his time in Esterhazy. (Haydn had visited London, by then a celebrated artist, and already had commissions to produce his series of London symphonies.) These quartets were dedicated to Johann Tost, a violinist in Haydn’s orchestra (and dealer in musical manuscripts). The six quartets were written in 1790, published the next year. The “Lark” quartet, number 5 of this set, is likely the best known of the group.
Actually this quartet has two nicknames. “The Lark” refers to the first violin’s singing melody in the first movement – some think of this as a winged melody. It is introduced by the second violin in a little theme (F#-G-F#-E-D) that later appears in the second movement (different key, a lovely aria for the first violin). Three notes from this little theme slip into the third movement, a dance with a minor key trio section in the middle. The bright and energetic final movement is the source of this quartet’s other nickname “The Hornpipe.” This nickname was applied at the event of the quartet’s debut performances in England, a reference to a British sailors’ dance. The hidden theme from the opening of the first movement reappears in the final movement in the second violin, a clever ploy by Haydn (who injected much humor into his creations). The work has been designated as superior entertainment in four acts described as “a story, a song, a dance and a party.” It has also been said that this quartet displays Haydn’s “mature mastery of the medium he practically invented.” By Roberta Mielke
Program notes may draw on open-access web resources.
