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Program Notes January 26 PDF
Program Notes January 26 PDF
BY BILL CRANE
ROBERT SCHUMANN
GEISTERVARIATIONEN, WOO 24
COMPOSER: born June 8, 1810 in Zwickau (province of Saxony, Germany) ; died July 29, 1856 in Bonn,
quarter of Endenich
The tragedy of Robert Schumann’s profound mental illness in the last years of his life is quite
well-known to music lovers and it is easy to get wound up in the morose tale. But, all that took
place in a very different time – one without modern medicine – and details of the story matter
a great deal less than the profundity of Schumann’s composing and the surprising success and
coherence of his radical experimentation.
The “Ghost Variations” were to be Schumann’s last work and are noteworthy in this sad part of
his biography. Ten days before he tried to drown himself in the Rhine River in February,
suffering from severe aural hallucinations, Schumann claimed that he heard angels dictating a
theme to him. Rescued from his suicide attempt by bargemen dragging him ashore, he
continued work on a set of variations on the fascinating theme and on completion sent them to
his beloved wife, Clara. Only a few days later he had himself committed to an asylum and
would die there two years later.
The lovely theme, a chorale/hymn tune, actually may not have come from the angels, as
Schumann had used it several times before, in the second movements of his Violin Concerto in
D minor and the second string quartet, and the Song Album for the Young. Clara forbad
publication of the work, for unknown reasons, and it was not published until 1939, although
Brahms wrote piano duet variations on the theme in 1861.
It is very intimate music. The variations stick closely to the theme, with the original melody
always present. They do not disassemble the theme, but only comment on it, using usual
techniques of counterpoint, canon, triplet figurations above the theme, etc., and finally filigree
at moments so chromatic that the melody gets a bit lost in a lovely dissonant haze. Somehow,
that seems overly poignant as the work also marks the end of Schumann’s composing life. The
listener may wonder, indeed, if the Geistervariationen are complete; might he have written
more had his illness not become quite so profound? What are we to make of this
extraordinarily candid portrait from a man struggling with insurmountable challenge?
NIKOLAI MEDTNER
CHETYRE SKAZKI, OPUS 26, NOS. 1 & 2; DVE SKAZKI, OPUS 20, NO. 1
COMPOSER: born December 24, 1879 or January 5, 1880 (according to the Julian or Gregorian calendar),
in Moscow; died November 13, 1951 in London
"I think one of the reasons Nikolai Medtner hasn’t had a chance is that his music needs
very, very committed performances. If you play his works passively, the juice of his
music is really not going to be extracted – it’s simply not going to come out.”
– Marc-André Hamelin
In every musical era, there have been composers not well recognized in their own times and
neglected in the years following. Some, including Medtner, clung to earlier styles or
techniques of composition and eschewed the world of self-promotion that can win one renown
in the accepted circles of “taste.” For Medtner, this was a matter of not choosing the “modern”
way of doing things, rather choosing to stay with his very Romantic and very Russian
traditions. One must not forget the political upheavals of the first half of the 20th century,
when so many composers faced formidable challenges from Russian cultural authorities.
Arguably, a little statue of him belongs on that shelf where they keep the little statues of the
Great Russian Composers, even if his music can be called an “acquired taste.” In all of his
composing, it seems, Medtner strove to make grand statements, to tell very great tales, even if
some, like me, will find it hard to perceive those things completely on just one hearing of any
of his compositions. He is worthy, I believe, of further examination and enjoyment. Thank
goodness for You-Tube!
Happily, we for whom this composer may be a new acquaintance today will get a fine serving
of some of his most original and enchanting music, his Skazki, most often translated as “Fairy
Tales” in English. From Op. 20 and Op. 28, Dasol has chosen three of the 38 Skazki and they
feature many of the composing tricks for which he is known: great inventiveness in the texture
of the music, deep harmonies, boundless enigma, lots of variation in the rhythms. They are
miniature tone poems, even if quite fleeting in duration (only one and a half to three minutes
each.) Lovers of very “narrative” music (here think of Pictures at an Exhibition, for instance) will
delight in these witty, tart tales.
Happily, too, Medtner, the man, and his music are becoming better known. A Medtner Society
was founded in London in 1949 by His Highness Jayachamarajendra Wadiya Bahadur, the
Maharajah of Mysore. (Wouldn’t you like to know the background of that story!) In 2018, the
Society organized the first International Nikolai Medtner Music Festival in Berlin. We may well
get to know his music much more in the years to come.
ALEXANDER SCRIABIN
PIANO SONATA NO. 3, OP. 23
COMPOSER: born December 25, 1871 or January 6, 1872 (according to the Julian or Gregorian calendar), in
Moscow; died April 14 or 27, 1915, in Moscow
FRÉDÉRIC CHOPIN
SCHERZO NO. 1, OP. 20; SCHERZO NO. 2, OP. 31; SCHERZO NO. 3, OP.
39; SCHERZO NO. 4, OP. 54
COMPOSER: born March 1, 1810, in Warsaw; died October 17, 1849 in Paris
In No. 2, B-flat minor (Op. 31) from 1837, Chopin took off in decidedly original directions. Highly
contrasting themes develop in alternation of equally contrasting episodes of pianissimos and
fortissimos and bear out one of his most thrilling, soaring melodies. All the compositional
devices he employed (including ending in the “wrong” key) could keep a musicology graduate
student happily studying for days, but, more important, I think, is the profound exhilaration it
(seemingly) effortlessly renders.
Begun in Majorca in 1838-39, where Chopin and his mistress, the writer George Sand, were
spending several months, No. 3 in C-sharp minor (Op. 39) was finished in Marseille, to which
they had moved at the onset of a bad flare-up of the composer’s tuberculosis. The opening of
No. 3 is tonally and rhythmically ambiguous, but leads to a quite stormy theme played in
octaves, it becomes more and more agitated as it goes on. A beguiling middle section, sort of
a combination of a hymn and a shimmering figuration around it, contrast with all the drama, but
lead back to it. A final coda thunders with astonishing power.
The final scherzo, No. 4 in E Major, Op. 54, of 1842, begins and ends in a major key, the only
one to do so. Some ears will hear it as “lighter” than its three predecessors, but that in no way
indicates that it has any less range of expression. Of it, the writer Herbert Weinstock said that
it is “. . . happiness made manifest.” The middle section bears an achingly beautiful cantilena,
meaning a melody strongly influenced by the tradition of operatic singing, and is given plenty
of time to reveal its charms. The return of the first themes leads to a conclusion of great
panache and thrills.
It seems good to note that this Scherzo was one of Camille Saint-Saens’s favorite pieces and
we can easily hear, I think, that he loved all those arpeggios, all that sparkle enough to write
quite similarly in his G-minor piano concerto, as did fellow French composer Gabriel Pierne in
his C-minor concerto. NOTE: If, after all that beauty you find yourself spontaneously leaping up
in reaction to the astonishing ascending scales about four seconds before the final chords of
this tremendously affirmative piece, I don’t think anyone should think it inappropriate.