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Rutgers In New York 2005
Rutgers in New York
Isaac Stern Auditorium
Carnegie Hall
154 West 57th Street
Wednesday, March 2, 2005, 8:00 p.m.
Notes on the Program
Francis Poulenc (1899-1963)
Gloria, op. 177 (1959-60)
—The debut of Gloria occurred in Boston on 20 January 1961, which would prove to be the composer’s last trip to the United States before his sudden death in 1963. Reception of the piece has been kind, as it enjoys a prominent slot in the repertory of both amateur and advanced choral groups. Early reaction, however, indicated a discomfort with the perceived irreverence of the second and fifth movements of the Gloria, which stand out as markedly light-hearted in the midst of a deeply religious composition. Indeed, these two movements seem to serve as foils to the much heavier third and fifth movements.
Poulenc begins his ‘large choral symphony’ with a fanfare-ish meditation upon ‘Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis (Glory to God in heaven, and peace and goodwill on earth to mankind).’ This first movement revolves around three basic motives: the majestic-sounding dotted rhythms of ‘Gloria in excelsis Deo,’ the descent of ‘in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis,’ and the cadential pattern that marks the singular declarations of ‘Gloria.’
The second movement caused the biggest stir among listeners, though Poulenc, who reveled in a simple ‘country pastor’ faith, defends the light-heartedness of the movement by citing as inspiration the ‘Gozzoli frescoes in which the angels stick out their tongues,’ as well as his observance one day of a group of Benedictine monks playing soccer. For Poulenc, reverence could exist in any act. This movement is set in a ternary form, with the opening section built on the text ‘Laudamus te, Benedicimus te, Adoramus te, Glorificamus te (We praise you, we bless you, we adore you, we glorify you),’ and featuring a syncopated, playful accompaniment. The last two sections are set to ‘Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam (We give thanks to you for your great glory),’ with the middle portion featuring a moment of weight in the midst of the movement’s general levity. The fourth movement will return to a lighter style, with a short, interlude-like exclamation of ‘Domine fili unigenite Jesu Christe! (Lord Jesus Christ, only begotten son!).’
The third and fifth movements are the most solemn of the Gloria. The third movement, set to the text ‘Domine Deus, Rex coelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens, Gloria (Lord God, heavenly king, God the almighty father, Glory),’ works out four distinct motives, presented in the solo material. Despite the joyful content of the text, the movement exhibits a brooding minor key, perhaps reflective of Poulenc’s 1936 return to Catholicism after the tragic death of composer Pierre-Octave Ferroud. On the heels of the light fourth movement, the opening E7 chord of the fifth sounds ominously enough to bring us back to a more somber mood. It is not surprising that this movement seems grave, as Poulenc is meditating upon a text depicting the death of the son of God: ‘Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris, Rex coelestis qui tollis peccatamundi, miserere nobis, suscipe deprecationem nostram (Lord God, lamb of God, son of the father, heavenly king who bears the sins of the world, have mercy on us, receive our prayer). After a long orchestral introduction, the soloist enters in an anguished manner, emphasizing the accidentals (sharp seventh and flat fifth) that give the movement its characteristic sound.
The final movement is a call for mercy, set to the text ‘Qui sedes ad dextram Patris, miserere nobis. Quoniam tu solus Sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus Altissimus Jesu Christe. Cum Sancto Spiritu in Gloria Dei Patris. Amen. (You, who sit at the right hand of the father, have mercy upon us. For you alone are holy, you alone are the Lord, you alone are the highest Jesus Christ. With the Holy Ghost, in the glory of the God the father. Amen.). The recitation of this final text is interspersed with orchestral soundings of the opening motive of the first movement. Finally, however, Poulenc seems to achieve a certain peace, and he concludes the Gloria floating in the air, as if he has received the mercy he requested.
Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943)
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, op. 43 (1934)
—Composed during the summer of 1934, Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini was the first opus to be born in the composer’s fantastic Switzerland lake home, Senar. The composer premiered the piece as the piano soloist in Baltimore on 7 November 1934. It’s success was instantaneous, and a plethora of performances and recordings have followed. Though Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody is not the first piece to center around the final A-minor theme of Paganini’s 24 Caprices for violin, it has certainly become the most popular and recognizable. Though Rachmaninoff was careful not to call the Rhapsody a concerto, its form is still probably best understood in concerto-like terms. The theme and first eleven variations function as a first movement, maintaining an A minor key. Variations 12-18 explore the keys of D minor, F major, B-flat major, and D-flat major and function as the middle ‘slow’ movement. Variations 19-24, then, re-establishing A minor, would be the final movement. Of course, since the piece revolves around a single theme, the Rhapsody presents itself in a much more integrated manner than an average concerto would.
The Rhapsody begins with a rather straightforward statement of the Paganini theme, and the first six variations pick apart different aspects of the theme, as the pianist attempts various Paganini-esque techniques at the keyboard. In the seventh variation, however, Rachmaninoff introduces Dies Irae as a countermelody, perhaps to recall the myth surrounding the famous violinist that attributed his virtuosic abilities to a deal with the devil. The Dies Irae persists alongside the Paganini theme through the tenth variation until, finally, the eleventh variation ends the opening ‘movement’ with a flourish, sending us into exploratory keys for the following variations, as if the Paganini theme is trying to escape the nuisance of the Dies Irae.
The ‘middle movement’ is a succession of short, stylistically varying variations that seem to sink to the undesirable depths of variation 17’s B-flat minor murk. In the most famous section of the Rhapsody, however, Rachmaninoff lifts the inverted Paganini theme to a luscious D-flat major climax in variation 18, which ends the slow ‘movement.’
The final set of variations return to A minor, and, once again, we find the Paganini theme pestered by ominous countermelodies. This time, though, the Dies Irae is not alone, as church bells sound in the background as if to further condemn our diabolical theme. The Paganini theme, though, is able to escape unfettered, and Rachmaninoff ends the piece with a whirl of virtuosic variations and a final, affirming gesture towards the theme’s endurance.
Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881)
Pictures at an Exhibition (1874)
orchestral arrangement (1922) by Maurice Ravel (1875-1937)
—Who is Mussorgsky? Though the question of author and the search for authorial intent is often vexing, perhaps no prominent composer is more elusive than Mussorgsky. Our inability to adequately perceive Mussorgsky is partly explained by his tendency to begin projects and leave them unfinished, and he died with a slew of partially composed works. His considerably more conservative-composing friend, Rimsky-Korsakov, dedicated himself to finishing many of Mussorgsky’s works for posthumous publication, and, were it not for Rimsky-Korsakov’s extensive efforts, we are left to wonder if we would now notice Mussorgsky at all. The two most famous Mussorgsky orchestral pieces—Night on Bald Mountain and Pictures at an Exhibition—are most often enjoyed through the lens of Rimsky-Korsakov and Ravel, respectively. Indeed, the orchestration of Pictures at an Exhibition being performed tonight was arranged by Ravel, who himself was working from a Rimsky-Korsakov publication. Despite any particular arranger’s desire to remain true to Mussorgsky’s ‘intentions,’ we are still presented with the challenge of perceiving Mussorgsky through the lens of an intermediary (made all the more difficult when, as is often the case, that intermediary goes unmentioned).
The original piano composition, Pictures at an Exhibition, was dedicated to and representative of the pictures drawn by Viktor Hartmann, an architect and close friend of Mussorgsky’s who had died in 1873 (perhaps not so coincidentally, the summer of 1873 marks Mussorgsky’s first known bout with alcohol abuse). The piece was well-known among Mussorgsky’s friends, as he often performed it privately at artistic meetings, but it never received a public debut during his lifetime. Whether for sentimental reasons, or because of his waning Stasovian standing, Pictures at an Exhibition remained a private piece to Mussorgsky’s death. Ravel’s orchestration of Pictures is the most well-known arrangement of the piece, and Ravel seems to have made a sincere effort to emulate the original composer, as the piece maintains a certain ‘graininess’ that is more pronounced than elsewhere in Ravel’s output. Still, Ravel transforms a private piano reflection into a public orchestral event. The pictures, through the melodies and harmonies of Mussorgsky and the expert arrangement of Ravel, sparkle before our eyes. And before our mind’s eye, we perceive an introspective composer at the piano, composing out a final dedication to his lost friend.
Notes by Justin Burton
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