Mahler Symphony No. 5 | Program Notes

SOUNDINGS 2014/15 | COLORADOSYMPHONY.ORG PROGRAM 5

MASTERWORKS • 2014/15

MAHLER SYMPHONY NO. 5

COLORADO SYMPHONY

ANDREW LITTON, conductor

NADJA SALERNOSONNENBERG, violin

Thursday, April 30, 2015 at 7:30 pm

Friday, May 1, 2015 at 7:30 pm

Sunday, May 3, 2015 at 1:00 pm

Boettcher Concert Hall

SHOSTAKOVICH Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 99

Nocturne: Moderato

Scherzo: Allegro

Passacaglia: Andante

Burlesca: Allegro con brio

INTERMISSION

MAHLER Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp minor

Part I

Trauermarsch: In gemessenem Schritt. Streng.

Wie ein Kondukt

Stürmisch bewegt, mit grösster Vehemenz

Part II

Scherzo: Kräftig, nicht zu schnell

Part III

Adagietto: Sehr langsam

Rondo – Finale: Allegro

THIS WEEKEND OF CONCERTS IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED TO MERLE CHAMBERS AND HUGH GRANT

FRIDAY’S CONCERT IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED TO MR. AND MRS. EDWARD H. BOCK

SUNDAY’S CONCERT IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED TO MR. AND MRS. JACK GRYNBERG

PROGRAM 6 SOUNDINGS 2014/15 | COLORADOSYMPHONY.ORG

ANDREW LITTON, conductor

Andrew Litton currently serves as Music Director of the Colorado Symphony,

Norway’s Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, the New York City Ballet, Artistic

Director of the Minnesota Orchestra’s Sommerfest and Conductor Laureate

of Britain’s Bournemouth Symphony. He was also Music Director of the

Dallas Symphony from 1994-2006. He guest conducts the world’s leading

orchestras and has a discography of over 120 recordings with awards

including America’s Grammy®, France’s Diapason d’Or, and many British and

other honours. Litton has also conducted many of the world’s finest opera

companies, such as the Metropolitan Opera, Royal Opera Covent Garden, Deutsche Oper Berlin

and the Australian Opera. Besides his Grammy®-winning Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast with Bryn

Terfel and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, he also recorded the complete symphonies

by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov, a Dallas Mahler cycle, and many Gershwin recordings, as both

conductor and pianist. For Hyperion Andrew Litton’s recordings include piano concertos by

Rachmaninov, Liszt and Grieg with Stephen Hough; by Shostakovich, Shchedrin and Brahms with

Marc-André Hamelin; and by Alnæs and Sinding with Piers Lane; Prokofiev’s Cello Concerto and

Symphony-Concerto with Alban Gerhardt; Viola Concertos by Bartók and Rózsa with Lawrence

Power; the complete symphonies by Charles Ives and orchestral works by Joseph Schwantner.

Andrew Litton received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Juilliard in piano and conducting.

He is an accomplished pianist, and often conducts from the keyboard and enjoys performing

chamber music with his orchestra colleagues. For further information, visit www.andrewlitton.com.

NADJA SALERNO-SONNENBERG, violin

“One of the few classical artists who must be experienced in person.”

—The Washington Post

Passion, excitement, and innovation are the hallmarks of internationally

acclaimed soloist and chamber musician Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg’s

artistry. Praised for her compelling performances, daring interpretations

and dedication to her craft, she is one of today’s leading violinists,

renowned for her work on the concert stage, in the recording studio,

and highly respected for her vision and guidance as music director of

the San Francisco-based New Century Chamber Orchestra, which she joined in January 2008.

With successful careers in both the solo and chamber music worlds, Nadja continues to enthrall

audiences of all ages. A powerful and creative presence on the recording scene, Nadja Salerno-

Sonnenberg continues to enrich the collection of her record label, NSS Music, and in May 2014

released the label’s eleventh CD, an all-New Century Chamber Orchestra commissions CD

featuring works by Clarice Assad, William Bolcom, Michael Daugherty, and Ellen Taaffe Zwilich.

Nadja also has over twenty releases on the EMI and Nonesuch labels. Salerno-Sonnenberg’s

professional career began in 1981 when she won the Walter W. Naumburg International Violin

Competition. She is the recipient of an Avery Fisher Career Grant, and the prestigious Avery

Fisher Prize, awarded to instrumentalists who have demonstrated “outstanding achievement

and excellence in music.” An American citizen, Salerno-Sonnenberg was born in Rome and

emigrated to the United States at the age of eight to study at The Curtis Institute of Music. She

later studied with Dorothy DeLay at The Juilliard School.

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MASTERWORKS PROGRAM NOTESDmitri Shostakovich: Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor, Op. 99

Dmitri Shostakovich was born on September 25, 1906, in St. Petersburg and died on August 9,

1975, in Moscow. The Violin Concerto was composed in 1947-1948. Its duration is approximately 36

minutes; it is scored for solo violin, three flutes (3rd doubling piccolo), three oboes (3rd doubling English

horn), three clarinets (3rd doubling bass clarinet), three bassoons (3rd doubling contrabassoon), four

horns, tuba, timpani, percussion, harp, celesta, and strings. The last performance by the orchestra

was on January 13-15, 2012, with Karen Gomyo as the violin soloist and Pietari Inkinen conducting.

On no other major recent composer has more ink been spilt attempting to understand

what thought processes and motivations reveal the true self than that on Shostakovich. The

evidence is fought over, sifted, and re-sifted to build the case that he was a musically-gifted,

but incredibly naïve, tool of the worst instincts of Stalinism. Or, on the other hand, that he was a

musically-gifted, but wondrously deceptive, resident critic of the terrors of Soviet Communism.

Even — something of both, for Shostakovich left a maddeningly ambiguous record of his inner

thoughts.

His artistic life is a case study in the tragic difficulty of being true to one’s own sense of artistic

integrity and vision, while balancing that with the practical necessity of having any opportunity

to exist at all--both as an artist, or even as a human being--in an oppressive totalitarian society.

Accordingly, his compositions varied in their styles over the decades. Those of his early maturity

were composed under the daily fear of his vanishing in Stalin’s purges of the 1930s; during the

“Great Patriotic War” with the Nazi government, the national effort allowed artists a bit more

latitude in their expressions. But the clamp down after the war produced understandable, but

confusingly coöperative “artistic confessions” of his lack of sufficient sensitivity to collectivist

politics. Thus, his long line of fifteen symphonies is marked by a few embarrassingly “populist”

potboilers, as well as by his immortal masterpieces.

Shostakovich was equally capable of writing satirical compositions that scathingly excoriate

the excesses and flaws of Western Democracies, as well as works of dark and profound passion

that lament the fundamental tragedies of universal human experience. It is tempting for those

who enjoy easy freedoms of artistic expression to hold others from other times to a high moral

standard and to adjure them to not “sell out” their integrity. But few major composers have

endured such political and artistic oppression, as did Shostakovich.

Which brings us to his first violin concerto. The impressive gifts of the great Russian violinist,

David Oistrakh, led Shostakovich to begin the composition of the concerto in Summer 1947,

while in the meantime, epic political events were brewing. Andrey Zhdanov, head of state affairs

for the arts, was orchestrating a campaign to repress those artists who were not sufficiently

toeing the Stalinist line for accessible music for the proletariat. The storm erupted in January

1945, when Shostakovich, Prokofiev, and others more or less had their non-conformist

compositions proscribed. Consequently, the violin concerto went into what Shostakovich called

“the drawer” – a metaphor for works that were dangerously out of political fashion, and which

he kept to himself. After Stalin’s death in March 1953, the concerto and other great works came

out of “the drawer,” and musical posterity is much the richer. The violin concerto is dedicated

to Oistrakh; he collaborated with some revisions and played the première with the Leningrad

Philharmonic in October 1955.

Cast in four movements, rather than the typical three, it is a dark, serious, and weighty

affair, and clearly symphonic in both scope and composition. Bearing little resemblance to


MASTERWORKS PROGRAM NOTESviolin concertos that feature memorable melodies and an emphasis upon showy virtuosity,

Shostakovich’s work is a formidable intellectual challenge as well a musical one — and for the

soloist, it must be said, a physical one, as well. The first movement, “Nocturne,” is, of course,

an unusual way to begin a concerto, and the mood is more than crepuscular--it is a study

in pessimistic reflections at midnight. The orchestra stays well out of the way, yet provides

a backdrop of somber dark, rich colors as the soloist relentlessly weaves a weft of tentative,

searching melodic lines that pose questions, but no answers. Some have aptly compared it

with the sad, elegiac first movement of Elgar’s Cello Concerto — a reflection of the death and

destruction of WWI.

Most symphonies have a scherzo as an inner movement, and in this concerto Shostakovich

has written one that is obviously related to the common trope of a “dæmonic,” “satanic,” or

“devil’s” violin. This image goes back to the Middle Ages, and has been common coin in musical

compositions since the nineteenth century. The strings mostly retire here, as the soloist engages

with the unusual colors in the threatening woodwinds. Here, as in the last movement, there is a

hint of Jewish scales and melody — but only a hint. Shostakovich about this time had composed

other compositions on specifically Jewish themes as a counter to anti-Semitism, and that

interest surfaces here, as well. The composer’s famed mastery of musical sarcasm pervades the

frenetic virtuosity.

The third movement — clearly a dirge--is a case in point as a target for Stalin’s apparatchiks,

ever vigilant for the artistic sin of “formalism” — that is abstract music without palpable

reference to the glories of collectivism. It is a passacaglia, a centuries old technique that uses

a repeating bass line (think of the Pachelbel canon) to generate structure. Here, the bass

line is seventeen bars long, repeated nine times, with Shostakovich’s skill as an imaginative

orchestrator coming to the fore. Each repetition of the bass theme is clothed in new orchestra

colors, building into heart-rending intensity with each iteration. Finally, when there seems to

be nowhere else to go in this stress and passion, the soloist plunges into a challenging cadenza

of unprecedented power, length, and drama. It practically takes on the significance of a fifth

movement, and eventually takes us right into the last movement, Burlesca.

It’s a riotous, wild affair, threatening to careen out of control, with familiar elements of

Shostakovich’s style propelling us along: Russian dancing and drinking, Jewish folksongs,

vicious social parody, among others. As this vital composition drives to a smashing conclusion,

the audience will perhaps be as exhausted as the orchestra and soloist. Notwithstanding his

putative, occasional acquiescence to the oppressive Soviet state, the Violin Concerto, along with

its peers, is eloquent testimony to the genius of the real Dimitri Shostakovich.

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MASTERWORKS PROGRAM NOTESGustav Mahler: Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp minor

Gustav Mahler was born on July 7, 1860, in Kalischt, Bohemia and died on May 18, 1911, in Vienna.

His Fifth Symphony was composed in 1901-1902. Its large orchestration calls for four flutes (3rd and 4th

doubling piccolo), three oboes (3rd doubling English horn), three clarinets (3rd doubling bass clarinet

and E-flat clarinet), three bassoons (3rd doubling contrabassoon), six horns, four trumpets, three

trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, and harp. Duration is approximately 72 minutes. The last

performance by the orchestra was on June 4-6, 2010, with Jeffrey Kahane on the podium.

When Gustav Mahler died in 1911, at the age of fifty-one, his years cut short by heart disease,

by most measures he had enjoyed an enviable life and career. He was respected as one of the

most effective and innovative of opera conductors; his leadership of some of the world’s most

admired symphony orchestras had set new artistic standards; his songs and his symphonies

were beginning to enjoy a modicum of success in respected artistic circles; and he was married

to one of the most attractive, talented, and vivacious women in Europe. But, that is a sadly

incomplete picture. In point of fact, after ten years of leading the musical life of the world’s

most important musical city, he was hounded out of his tenure as conductor of the court opera

and the Vienna Philharmonic by an unrelenting anti-Semiticism of unprecedented virulence.

The Viennese press attacked him without mercy, lampooning his conducting gestures and

attributing every ostensible weakness to his Jewish background. His subsequent, brief career at

the Metropolitan Opera and the New York Philharmonic had soon grown stale as he succumbed

to his fatal illness. Those who did not appreciate and understand his music held the majority,

and he was roundly ridiculed for its general incomprehensibility, eccentricity, and wildly

personal nature. His beloved little daughter, Maria, had died at the age of four from diphtheria.

And, the passion of his life Alma Schindler Mahler, had repeatedly betrayed him in more

than one deeply wounding incident. Taken altogether, his life was a series of contradictions:

profound successes, abysmal disappointments, and little in between.

Symphony No. 5, the first of three symphonies often grouped together as “middle-period” works,

was begun during the summer of 1901. It was finished the next summer, right after his marriage

to the beautiful Alma. A marriage from Hell — psychological, that is — if there ever was one.

But at that time, he was beside himself with joy. However, as we shall see, that joy comes to

expression in this symphony only in one well-known movement.

The first movement opens with a solo trumpet fanfare, one of the most famous in the

literature, and revered by trumpet players everywhere. But it is not the inspiring call to noble

deeds that most presume it to be. Rather it is perhaps one of his most characteristic uses of the

commonplace to set up a parody of everyday existence, for a funeral march is what follows.

Think of it as a pedestrian bugle call. This is a decidedly unusual way to begin a symphony —

complete slow movements rarely do so, much less one conceived as a funeral march. After

some dark brass chords from the abyss, the march tune proper begins — a solemn affair, but

the careful ear will hear in the violins an occasional snatch of a bit here and there of maudlin

Viennese dance hall allusions. Here again, is the typical Mahlerian juxtaposition of radically

different cultural experiences. Then, soon there arrives a justly famous galvanizing moment:

in Mahler’s score indications — “Suddenly faster, impassioned, wild.” Wild it is; commentators

and performers alike have heard it as “hysterical screaming,” and as the voice of murderers and

victims, no less. This cosmic terror — not unusual in the composer’s music — soon subsides and

a bit of the opening fanfare takes us back to the sentimental salon music disguised as a funeral


march. The movement proceeds to its dissolution, with the “bugle calls” marking the end.

Mahler marks the second movement as “Stormy,” and it palpably begins as such. But, typically,

there soon arrives a genial broad melody in the strings, accompanied by a gentle chirping in the

woodwinds. The alternation of storm and sentimental reflection continues—with the occasional

little march--as Mahler, in his words, “kneads” the myriad musical possibilities of his material. And

then, a magical Mahler moment, as the brass section luminously peals forth a radiant, affirmative

chorale. The sonorous warmth doesn’t last long—they hardly have a chance to finish — before

the storm returns. It winds down quickly, though, as various sections and soloists play the short

little motive that has been so important. As quiet, isolated “rain drops” fall, the solo tuba gets the

last word and the storm is over.

The third movement in symphonies is usually a dance, or dancelike one — going all the way

back to the days of Haydn — and Mahler doesn’t disappoint us. This one is a graceful (mostly)

waltz, and why not? It’s Vienna, after all. But, it’s a really long one, beginning cheerfully, and

moving from one interesting idea to another, all of the time affording the composer ample

opportunity to engage in contrapuntal textures. Unlike much of the rest of the symphony,

however, the textures are often spare and open, giving us plenty of space to really hear the

exposed lines. There are serious moments as it proceeds to move through lengthy musical

territory, but they’re not dark, stormy, or terror filled — just intense exploration of contrapuntal

ideas where almost everyone gets an exposed opportunity to solo a bit. Finally, a recitative-like

passage for various solo brasses — especially the first horn — signals the end, followed by a rush

to the cadence by the whole orchestra.

And now, what is perhaps Mahler’s most well known music, the famous “Adagietto.” It is the

added movement in the symphony, and gained worldwide fame for its constant use in the

film, “Death in Venice” (1971). Simply put, it’s an intense love offering to Alma, written in the

summer of 1902, right after their marriage. He worshiped her, and it shows eloquently here,

almost painfully so. Especially considering the checkered relationship that plagued them almost

from beginning to end. He met her while she was having an affair with her music composition

teacher, Alexander Zemlinsky, and he died while she was in a notorious, semi-public affair

with Walter Gropius, later one of the founding fathers of modern architecture (the Bauhaus

School). Mahler’s letters to her, his anguished notations in his musical scores — they’re almost

embarrassing — are a testimony to his long-suffering devotion to her. But, in the moment

there was happiness, even if he exaggerated it in his mind. Not only newlywed bliss, but also

incredible beauty — all in the music. After his death she blithely went on to collect serially other

geniuses as her lovers. If the purity of the love he expressed was only in his mind, well, irony was

Mahler’s middle name.

After all the turmoil, stormy passions, and terror, the last movement finally arrives, and it is

a cheerful affair — much to the relief of many. However, from the work’s première, this very

upbeat mood has been the target of not a few critics — starting with Alma, herself — who have

felt that it was a somewhat forced, and uncharacteristic way to follow all that had gone before.

“How can all of that lead to a cheerful ending? It’s got to be insincere.” Be that as it may, most

enjoy it that way, and after a few little bucolic solos from both the woodwinds and brass, the

bustling, happy finale begins. Mahler chose a very traditional form for this last movement, a

rondo — its use goes back to the early days of the symphony — and it’s merely the alternation

between material that comes back from time to time in recognizable fashion and episodes

MASTERWORKS PROGRAM NOTES


of new material. What is most likely welcome, as well, for the audience is that Mahler’s tunes

and motifs are usually easy to remember and recognize. The texture is not so dense, and we

can follow the composer’s counterpoint, as the main melodic elements intertwine rather like a

very long, and fragmented fugue. The drive to the end is mostly constant, with sudden, short

outbursts in the brass and timpani that signal brief changes in the musical territory. There’s a

lot of ground to cover, but gradually we sense the growing tension underlying the end. A short,

peaceful interlude of repose, featuring the woodwinds, provides a break before the serious

final drive. A rhythmic sea of overlapping melodies builds, posing the question: what possible

conclusion can top all this off? Mahler’s answer — and, as noted above, it was controversial

from the outset — is to bring back the aborted brass chorale from the second movement. This

time, over sizzling string activity, he allows it to soar out in a truly magnificent and inspiring

fulfillment. After this glorious moment, nothing else is possible but a short frenzied drive home.

Craftsman to the end, even in this quicksilver crash to the conclusion, Mahler ends with allusions

to the little outbursts from earlier on, and to the main ideas.

Along with moments of transcendent beauty, there is also much that challenges, perhaps

perplexes, or even offends, here. Nevertheless, it provides a convincing representation of

Mahler, the man, as much as Mahler, the composer. Famously, when compared with the easy,

widespread approval of the music of his friend — and rival — Richard Strauss, he simply

remarked, “One day people will separate the wheat from the chaff — and when his day has

passed, then my time will come.”

— Wm. E. Runyan©William E. Runyan

MASTERWORKS PROGRAM NOTES

COLORADOSYMPHONY.ORG | 303.623.7876 BOX OFFICE MON-FRI 10 AM - 6 PM SAT 12 PM - 6 PM

Bronfman Plays BeethovenMAY 22-24 FRI-SAT 7:30 SUN 1:00Andrew Litton, conductor

Yefim Bronfman, piano

Alan Opie, baritone

Colorado Symphony Chorus; Duain Wolfe, director

VAUGHAN WILLIAMS Overture to The Wasps

BEETHOVEN Piano Concerto No. 4 in G major, Op. 58

WALTON Belshazzar’s Feast

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Mahler Symphony No. 5 | Program Notes

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