Beethoven & Rachmaninoff Program Notes

Guillaume Connesson’s Flammenschrift (Flame Writing)

World Premiere November 8, 2012; Paris, France
10 Minutes

Guillaume Connesson is fascinated with cosmic phenomena.
Disco, funk and minimalism play a role in some of Connesson’s pieces.
He won prizes as a student for choral conducting, electro-acoustics and orchestration.
Elvis Presley and James Brown are among his favorite performers.

Born in a Paris suburb, Guillaume Connesson first studied piano. After traditional music instruction at the regional conservatory, he enrolled at the Paris Conservatoire, studying orchestral conducting and orchestration. His breakout work was Supernova, composed for the Montpellier Festival in 1997. After Supernova started to be programmed on concerts outside of France, Connesson was soon singled out as one of the most promising voices of his generation. He has held residencies with several orchestras in France, Belgium and the Netherlands. Since 1997, he has taught orchestration at the Conservatoire d’Aubervilliers, northeast of Paris.

His composer’s note for Flame Writing follows:

“I wanted to compose a work with a fierceness that would draw a psychological portrait of [Ludwig van] Beethoven and, more generally, pay homage to the music of Germany. My portrait of Beethoven is that of a man of great anger, seething and impetuous, whose inner violence transpires in numerous works of music … [Flame Writing has] numerous allusions to his works. [There are] veiled references to the compositions of [Johannes] Brahms and Richard Strauss at the end of the piece … Two themes of furious character are stated in the opening pages. A third, less tense theme for clarinets and bassoons undergoes many transformations. A lyrical theme completes the material of the exposition. In the development, the four themes are transmuted, recalling the sudden emergence of the major mode in the finale of Beethoven’s Fifth. Following the drama comes a dance of joy.”

Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92

World Premiere December 8, 1813; Vienna, Austria
36 Minutes

Richard Wagner famously called this symphony the “apotheosis of the dance.”
Extroverted and flamboyant, the Seventh Symphony draws us into lively conversation.
Beethoven’s Allegretto is sublime and mysterious.
The finale exhilarates with an unceasing fount of energy.

The Seventh Symphony falls into what biographer Maynard Solomon calls “the heroic decade.” During this period, from 1802 to 1812, Beethoven wrote in a grand style that combined elements of Viennese symphonic tradition with French orchestral style. French music of this era frequently bore a martial stamp. The Seventh Symphony in its day was strongly associated with the victory over Napoleon. It opens with the lengthiest slow introduction of any Beethoven symphony. Exultation bursts forth in the Allegro, whose pronounced dotted rhythm dominates the entire fabric of the movement.

The slow movement enjoyed enormous popularity in the 19th century. Fusing elements of rondo, march and variation, Beethoven spins a remarkable tale from the simplest of means. He switches back and forth between A minor that emphasizes strings and A major that focuses on woodwinds.

Beethoven’s scherzo is a vibrant Presto. By expanding the conventional tripartite form to an A-B-A-B-A structure, he increases the length and scope of the scherzo, endowing it with more psychological weight. The symphony ends with a jubilant Allegro con brio, an overwhelmingly optimistic movement that captivates us with its distinctive flourish in its opening measures and a compelling rhythmic drive throughout. Indeed, rhythm is the most memorable feature of the Seventh Symphony, delivering Beethoven’s personality more convincingly than his melodies do and setting in relief the understated calm of the unconventional slow movement.

Sergei Rachmaninoff’s ***Symphonic Dances*, Op. 45**

World Premiere January 3, 1941; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
35 Minutes

Sergei Rachmaninoff had enormous hands, making his piano pieces extremely difficult.
A trained conductor, he led the Bolshoi Ballet orchestra for a while.
He loved cars and was the first in his neighborhood to have an automobile.

During the summer of 1940, Sergei Rachmaninoff vacationed on the then-bucolic north shore town of Huntington, Long Island. He hoped to compose some music and regain his failing health. Though he lived nearly three years longer, the work he composed that summer was his last complete score. And a magnificent swan song it was.

The first movement is dominated by a descending triad motive. Rachmaninoff surprises us with a panoply of percussion, woodwind and brass accents amidst the ongoing sweep of the strings. A unique stroke is the luscious solo awarded to alto saxophone in the more leisurely middle section, with clarinet and oboe sharing a light accompaniment.

The central waltz opens with muted trumpets. Pizzicato strings establish the ghostly waltz rhythm; a free violin solo lends a folksy, half-Gypsy facet to the music. The brasses of the opening measures return periodically, as if to herald the spirits that seem to underlie this disquieting dance.

Rachmaninoff used the medieval Dies irae chant in several compositions. Its presence in the finale to the Symphonic Dances has been called his last and definitive statement. An English horn solo also makes use of Russian Orthodox chanting. The two ideas bind together with the composer’s original material to build to a dynamic close. These Symphonic Dances meld balletic impulse and symphonic grandeur in a superb example of Rachmaninoff’s mature orchestral style.

Flammenschrift (Flame Writing)

Guillaume Connesson

Born 1970 in Boulogne-Billancourt, France

New music in France was dominated for much of the late 20th century by Pierre Boulez’s IRCAM Studio in Paris, a hotbed of experimentation in electronic music and avant-garde techniques that drew gifted composers and musicians from around the globe. IRCAM remains a significant force, but other currents have surfaced in France. Much as American music in recent decades has experienced a backlash, with a bumper crop of new romantics and minimalists rebelling against the serial academicism of the 1960s and 1970s, French music has undergone a similar phenomenon.

Guillaume Connesson eventually enrolled at the regional conservatory in a traditional program encompassing musical analysis, music history, choral conducting and compositions; he won prizes in all four areas. Connesson studied composition privately with Marcel Landowski. At the Paris Conservatoire, he worked with Dominique Rouits on orchestral conducting and with Alain Louvier on orchestration.

By his mid-20s, he had attracted considerable attention, first with Fêtes du solstice, a bacchanale for orchestra written for the Orchestre Colonne at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in 1994, then with Night-Club (1996), an orchestral piece commissioned for a festival in Provence. His breakout work was Supernova, composed for the Montpellier Festival in 1997.

He acknowledges a broad spectrum of influences including Richard Wagner and Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel and Albert Roussel, Igor Stravinsky, Olivier Messiaen and Carl Orff, as well as the Americans John Adams and Steve Reich. Lurking on the outskirts of his milieu are film composers such as John Williams and Bernard Herrmann. Connesson also admits a liking for the funk of James Brown.

His composer’s note for Flame Writing follows.

I wanted to compose a work with a fierceness that would draw a psychological portrait of Beethoven and, more generally, pay homage to the music of Germany. My portrait of Beethoven is that of a man of great anger, seething and impetuous, whose inner violence transpires in numerous works of music … To pay homage to him, I use the same instrumental nomenclature as his Fifth Symphony but also make use of opposing factions (woodwinds versus strings), and above all, rhythmical writing with numerous allusions to his works. But more generally, it is to German music in its entirety that I wanted to pay tribute with the veiled references to the compositions of Brahms and Richard Strauss at the end of the piece … Two themes of furious character are stated in the opening pages, while a third, less tense at the beginning (clarinets and bassoons) undergoes a great number of transformations. A fourth, more lyrical theme completes the material of the exposition. Then comes a long development, and the four themes are transmuted, recalling the sudden emergence of the major mode in the finale of Beethoven’s Fifth. Following the drama comes a dance of joy.

Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92

Ludwig van Beethoven

Born December 16, 1770, in Bonn, Germany · Died March 26, 1827, in Vienna, Austria

If the string quartets are the realm in which Beethoven made his most profound philosophical observations, the nine symphonies were his venue for adventure, expansion and exploration of his musical language. Beethoven’s orchestra grew gradually as his own ideas grew, and the sheer sound of the middle and late symphonies seems to beg for an expanded string section to deliver the power of his ideas. This concept of his music is, of course, a generalization. The more intimate and smaller scale Eighth Symphony, for example, almost seems like a conscious look back over Beethoven’s shoulder toward the 18th century. But the Eighth Symphony’s companion piece, the Symphony No. 7 in A major (the two works were composed in 1811 and 1812, respectively, published with contiguous opus numbers and premiered within five days of each other in December of 1813) is anything but intimate. Public, aggressive and decisive in its gestures, and filled with boundless enthusiasm, it is one of Beethoven’s most gregarious and optimistic compositions.

The Seventh Symphony falls into what Beethoven’s biographer Maynard Solomon calls “the heroic decade.” During this period, 1802 to 1812, Beethoven wrote in a grand style that melded elements of the Viennese symphonic tradition and the French orchestral style. French music of this era frequently bore a martial stamp. Among Beethoven’s orchestral works, the Fifth symphony is the easiest one in which to discern French “military” motifs, but the Seventh Symphony in its day was strongly associated with the victory over Napoleon.

Op. 92 opens with the lengthiest slow introduction of any Beethoven symphony. Music historian J.W.N. Sullivan has written of it:

The great introduction to the first movement seems to convey the awakening and murmuring of the multitudinous life of an immense forest. Much more than in the Pastoral Symphony do we feel here in the presence of Nature itself. It is life, life in every form, not merely human life, of which the exultation is here expressed.

That spirit of exultation bursts forth in the ensuing Allegro, whose pronounced dotted rhythm dominates the entire fabric of the movement.

The slow movement, Allegretto, enjoyed enormous popularity in the 19th century and proved to be one of Beethoven’s most influential compositions. Essentially a march, it is closely related to the funeral march slow movement of the “Eroica” Symphony; among other similarities, it switches back and forth between the parallel major and minor (in this case A major and A minor) and features triplet accompaniment in the contrasting trio sections. Beethoven emphasizes the string section in the minor sections and the woodwinds in the A major parts. Combining elements of rondo, march and variation, Beethoven spins a remarkable tale from the simplest of means.

Beethoven’s scherzo is a vibrant Presto in F-major, the only case in the nine symphonies where he strays from the tonic for this movement. By expanding the conventional tripartite form (with contrasting middle section in D-major) to an A-B-A-B-A structure, he increases the length and scope of the scherzo, endowing it with more psychological weight. He closes the symphony with a jubilant Allegro con brio, an overwhelmingly optimistic movement that captivates us with its distinctive flourish in its opening measures and a compelling rhythmic drive throughout. Indeed, rhythm is the most memorable feature of the Seventh Symphony, delivering Beethoven’s personality effectively, and setting in relief the understated calm of the unconventional slow movement.

Instrumentation: Beethoven’s score calls for woodwinds, horns and trumpets in pairs, timpani and strings.

***Symphonic Dances*, Op. 45**

Sergei Rachmaninoff

Born April 1, 1873, in Oneg, Novgorod District, Russia · Died March 28, 1943, in Beverly Hills

Celebrity get-together, 1940 style

During the summer of 1940, following an exhausting concert season, Sergei Rachmaninoff took refuge in the then-bucolic north shore town of Huntington, Long Island. He hoped to compose some music and regain his failing health. Though he lived nearly three years longer, the work he composed that summer proved to be his last complete score. And a magnificent swan song it was. Rachmaninoff was deservedly proud, writing excitedly on August 21 to Philadelphia Orchestra conductor Eugene Ormandy:

Last week, I finished a new symphonic piece, which I naturally want to give first to you and your orchestra. It is called Fantastic Dances. I shall now begin the orchestration. Unfortunately, my concert tour begins on October 14. I have a great deal of practice to do, and I don’t know whether I shall be able to finish the orchestration before November.

I should be very glad if, upon your return, you would drop over to our place. I should like to play the piece for you.

Ormandy responded promptly, accepting the composer’s invitation for the following week. By then, Rachmaninoff had changed the title to Symphonic Dances.

Although Rachmaninoff flirted with the idea of presenting the piece as a ballet, it is essentially a symphonic work that celebrates a lush orchestral palette. At the same time, vigorous dance rhythms suffuse all three movements, providing forward momentum and catching us up in a whirl of mysterious, compelling sound.

Expert outside consultant

The string parts to the Symphonic Dances are notoriously difficult, presenting a major challenge to the finest orchestra. There is a good reason: Rachmaninoff enlisted the assistance of the eminent violinist and composer Fritz Kreisler in editing the string parts, including all the bowings. While the strings do not always occupy the foreground, their presence is a constant factor throughout the Symphonic Dances.

The saxophone: unusual orchestral soloist

The first movement is dominated by a descending triad motive from which the balance of the musical material unfolds. Rachmaninoff takes superb advantage of his orchestral resources, continually surprising us with a panoply of percussion, woodwind and brass accents amidst the ongoing sweep of the strings. A unique stroke is the luscious solo awarded to alto saxophone in the more leisurely middle section. Precedent for using saxophone as an orchestral soloist lay in Georges Bizet’s L’Arlésienne Suites, Ravel’s Boléro and Ravel’s orchestration of Modest Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Rachmaninoff’s countryman Alexander Glazunov composed both a solo concerto for saxophone and a saxophone quartet. Still, the timbre was unusual: peculiarly close to the human voice and vividly set with clarinet and oboe sharing a light accompaniment.

Another concert waltz, now in Rachmaninoff’s voice

The central waltz opens with muted trumpets in an eerie reminder of the composer’s Russian roots. Pizzicato strings establish the ghostly waltz rhythm; a free violin solo lends a folksy, quasi-Gypsy facet to the music. Rachmaninoff focuses on individual instrumental colors, whose chromatic lines often seem like veiled threats undulating beneath the smooth exterior of the waltz. The brasses of the opening measures return periodically, as if to herald the spirits that seem to underlie this disquieting dance. Metric vacillation from 6/8 and 3/8 to 9/8 and back again add to the haunting character.

Dies irae: the wrath of God

Much has been made of Rachmaninoff’s recurrent use of the medieval Dies irae chant in his music. The best-known example is the Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini, but there are several other occurrences among the composer’s works. Its presence in the finale to the Symphonic Dances has been called Rachmaninoff’s last and definitive statement. An English horn solo also makes use of Russian Orthodox chanting. The two ideas bind together with the composer’s original material to build to a dynamic close.

Rachmaninoff’s achievement in this thrilling work is the fusion of balletic impulse and symphonic grandeur. Vastly more sophisticated than the heart-on-sleeve romanticism of the early piano concerti, the Symphonic Dances are a superb example of his mature orchestral style.

Instrumentation: Rachmaninoff scored his Symphonic Dances for a large and colorful orchestra comprising piccolo, two flutes, two oboes, English horn, two clarinets, bass clarinet, alto saxophone, two bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, triangle, tambourine, tubular bells, xylophone, tam-tam, glockenspiel, piano, harp and strings.