I write program notes for classical concerts here in San Francisco. Here are some samples.
March 2022 Program Notes
Karl Jenkins (1944-)
Palladio: I. Allegretto
Orchestral music has a reputation for being dated, but there are contemporary classical composers doing wonderful things all around the world. Looking for a place to start? Look no further than Karl Jenkins.
Born in 1944, the Welsh composer is one of the most prolific living composers. Jenkins studied oboe at the Royal Academy of Music in London, after which he became fascinated with jazz and rock music--he was even a "jazz oboist" for some time. This atypical mix of passions and influences likely contributed to his unique musical style and tendency to challenge classical norms.
The Palladio Suite is among Jenkins' most widely performed works--the movement on tonight's program was used in a De Beers diamond commercial. It is named after Andrea Palladio, one of the most influential architects in western history and a literal Renaissance man. When you think of Italian or Venetian architecture, you're really thinking of Palladian architecture. On Palladio, Karl Jenkins comments: "Two of Palladio's hallmarks are mathematical harmony and architectural elements borrowed from classical antiquity, a philosophy which I feel reflects my own approach to composition."
Using this as a metaphor, Jenkins "composes" a piece of architecture: the music of Palladio fits a predetermined frame, which is emphasized by the pulsating basses even as the melody takes the spotlight.
Palladio is written in the concerto grosso style, which developed in late 17th century Italy. Unlike a concerto, where you would hear a single soloist with accompaniment, a concerto grosso features multiple soloists. Corelli, Torelli, and Vivaldi were prominent composers who wrote in this style, which would reach its apotheosis with J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concertos. But, as the Baroque era drew to a close, the concerto grosso was kicked aside in favor of the increasingly popular concerto. Perhaps Jenkins is trying to shift the trend back in the other direction.
Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904)
Serenade for Strings in E Major, Op. 22
The Czech Republic is somewhat overlooked on the musical roadmap of Europe. Though the region's name has changed frequently over the centuries, its music has always had a strong sense of identity. It has also been a destination for classical music: none other than (the very Austrian) W.A. Mozart premiered many of his most beloved works in Prague.
Antonín Dvořák is commonly considered the quintessential Czech composer, and with good reason. His music is unmistakably Czech, with its Slavic and Moravian melodies and rhythms. However, what sets him apart is his versatility: he wrote large-scale symphonies, concertos, operas, and tone poems as well as smaller-scale works for winds, strings, and chamber ensembles. Fittingly, his Serenade on tonight’s program isn’t just unmistakably Czech, it is quintessentially ‘Dvořák-ian’.
The Serenade for Strings really is a serenade in every sense--and why not? Things were going quite well in the 35-year-old composer's life when he wrote it: he had a happy marriage, a young son, and was beginning to be recognized, appreciated, and--most importantly--paid for his artistic output.
Unlike a grandiose symphony, which was all the rage in the 1870s, there is something less formal and more light-hearted in this work. As the Russian conductor Mischa Rachlevsky said: "Just like delivering good news to someone has a positive rub-off effect on the messenger, performing Dvořák's Serenade is really a very therapeutic endeavor for performers. There is so much 'pure goodness' in it."
Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921)
Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Op. 28
19th-century Romantic artists were fascinated by the exotic. And by exotic, we mean "not Central European." Composers began setting their operas in foreign locations and incorporating eastern tonalities, and even instruments, into their music. Many European composers were particularly intoxicated by Spain. They all wrote their Symphonie Espagnoles, their Spanish symphonic tone poems (such as Strauss' Don Juan and Don Quixote) and their Spanish-themed operas (such as The Barber of Seville and Carmen). Heck, even Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker has an entire Spanish dance.
This makes sense because Spain's location made it both a geographical and a cultural gateway out of--and, crucially, into--Europe. It was exotic, yet accessible. There's an old saying: "The best Spanish music was written by the French." That might be a little too superlative for my taste, but there is some truth there--the French did write a disproportionate amount of great "saffron-flavored" music, and you're set to have a delectable sample of it tonight.
Camille Saint-Saëns was quite the Frenchman. He was not only a prodigy pianist--at age 10, he performed all 32 of Beethoven's piano sonatas from memory--but an active archeologist, musicologist, journalist, astronomer, mathematician, and linguist. He had a mind which makes one wonder if, had his childhood home had a chemistry set rather than a piano, he would have won a Nobel Prize.
Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso was written in 1863 for the Spanish virtuoso violinist, and composer himself, Pablo de Sarasate. Truly one of the great violinists of the 19th century, Sarasate was the dedicatee of many of the violin repertoire’s most iconic works including: Saint-Saens’ two other violin concertos, Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole, and Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 2 (which you may remember from the SF Phil’s December concert.)
The introduction of the Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso shows off the violin's lyric abilities, but before long it throws us into the dazzling Rondo Capriccioso. This section is really a duet between the violin and the orchestra; there is a sense that the soloist and orchestra aren't playing with each other, but off of each other, like two flamenco dancers.
The violin soloist and the orchestra go against each other in the rhythm of the main theme, with one in triple meter and the other in duple meter. That feeling, along with the many syncopated figures, gives this work a distinctly Iberian flavor. Capped off by a dizzying coda, it is over in just under 10 minutes and never outstays its welcome. So as promised, just a delightful sample. Hope it tastes good.
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67
Well, here we are, Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. The case could be made that this is the most famous piece of music in history--at least, it has the most famous opening four notes. It is almost impossible to escape the caricature and associations we have of it, which have become intrinsic to the work itself. But, if you really try and listen to the entire composition, the ride can be a real joy.
A few years after the success of his 3rd Symphony, Beethoven's 5th had a comparatively "meh" reaction from audiences and critics in 1808. In the following years, his 7th and 9th symphonies would secure his stardom across the Hapsburg Empire. But, back in his study sat the score which would one day become a cornerstone of western music.
The 5th Symphony's first movement has reached the kind of pop culture status usually reserved for British rock bands, but it really is a masterpiece of structure. Listen, and you'll realize that the simple four-note opening is the building block, not just for the first movement, but for the entire symphony. Whether it's being played by the entire orchestra, just the basses, or a solo wind player, listen for it and you'll hear it.
Do try and listen past the first movement, though, as the whole symphony is quite wonderful. The theme and variations in the 2nd movement present a fresh tonal shift from the 1st. Though the "theme and variations" has a reputation--perhaps deserved--of being one of the most over-troped compositional devices, Beethoven always brought freshness to the form.
After the dance-like scherzo, Beethoven writes one of the great musical transitions: a crescendo, without pause, into the triumphal 4th movement, which completes the journey from C Minor to C Major. Beethoven adds even more glory to this movement by using a piccolo, contrabassoon, and trombone for the first time ever in a symphony. (All three had only been used in opera up to this point.)
The 5th Symphony paints a portrait of Beethoven himself perhaps better than any of his other symphonic works. Since what stands out with Beethoven is not just the works themselves but, as with Shakespeare, his development across them. He is hardly the same composer through his early, middle, and late periods. Beethoven's organic development and artistic maturation find a graceful metaphor in his 5th Symphony.
But this brings us back to the grand question: what is it about Beethoven which has stood the test of time? Why is he considered to be the composer's composer? It's a tough question to answer, but as the great Canadian pianist Glenn Gould put it, Beethoven is a "living metaphor" for the creative condition. At once he honors the past, as he could be particular about structure and form--some of his violin sonatas, for example, follow textbook sonata form to the point of comedy--and the contrapuntal elements of his piano works paint a clear image of someone who passionately studied Bach, Mozart, and Haydn. But at the same time, Beethoven was always attempting to push music forward. Many of his harmonic inventions wouldn't be tried again for another 100 years, by composers such as Ravel and Bartók. His 32nd--and final--piano sonata has a variation which could easily be mistaken for ragtime, yet it was written a century before Joplin.
Though as compelling as this two-sided conundrum is, it isn’t particular to Beethoven. After all, inside any creative person is an inventor… at odds with a museum curator. And any advancement in art comes from the momentary gain of one at the expense of the other. But the unique thing about Beethoven is that this struggle between inventor and curator isn’t buried in the depths of the score, only accessible to those who know where to look. On the contrary, it is the very surface of the music, and Beethoven lets us hear it happen. Let’s see what we hear tonight.
December 2021 Program Notes
As the oft-used caveat goes, writing about music is like dancing about architecture. In the world of classical music, that writing--often program notes--has become more tedious than informative, boring you even before the music has a fair chance to do so. But this evening’s concert aims to be just the opposite: you’re about to enjoy a performance as exciting as the performers and repertoire itself. I also hope that these program notes make the experience more rewarding to your already-curious mind by providing a little insight and context around this music. You’ve gone through the trouble to make it out tonight, so we’ll take it from here.
Mozart Overture to Marriage of Figaro, K. 492
As concertgoers in the 21st century, we’ve become accustomed to the notion that operas are foreign, niche, and, well… old. But if you put yourself in the mindset of someone in the 1700s, opera was the pinnacle of both popular entertainment and artistic achievement. As the saying goes, composers would write sonatas, concerti, even symphonies just so they could finance their operas. With buzz circling around premiers, audience reactions, and critics’ opinions, it was very much the “movie” of the era; it’s no coincidence that Hollywood composers drew inspiration from European operas back in the early days of the motion picture.
Perhaps no other name in the history of Western art is as famous as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. His comic opera The Marriage of Figaro, of which you’ll get a palatable sample this evening, was premiered in his adoptive home of Vienna in 1786. It was based on the play by the French playwright Pierre Beaumarchais, which was written as a sequel to his very own Barber of Seville (which would eventually be turned into an opera by Rossini).
If operas were the movies of the 1700s, then The Marriage of Figaro was one of the OG rom-coms. Figaro, the town barber and everyone’s favorite local, had previously “set up” Rosina and Count Almaviva. Now that they’re married, Figaro has become their servant and is set to marry their maid, Susanna. Romance, comical shenanigans, and mistaken identity are sure to ensue. The overture, with its cheery, bombastic melodies and phrasing, sets this tone before the curtain rises.
Tchaikovsky Serenade for Strings in C Major, Op. 48
When we think about composers and their artistic output, we naturally tend to remember the big flashy stuff. In the case of Tchaikovsky, those are his ballets, symphonies, and tone poems, which are all masterpieces in their own right. But it’s with composers’ more intimate works that we see what they really cared about. For Tchaikovsky, that was melody and structure, both of which are on full display in his Serenade for Strings.
Without a grand orchestration—which Tchaikovsky had undoubtedly mastered using—and no story to convey, we get an unfiltered look at his brilliance. This must have been even more apparent during its public premiere in 1881, when it was played just after his (literally) explosive 1812 Overture. Before the performance, the very self-aware Tchaikovsky wrote:
I tell you that I have written two long works very rapidly: a festival overture for the upcoming Exhibition and a serenade in four movements for string orchestra. The overture [the 1812 Overture] will be very noisy. I wrote it without much warmth and enthusiasm—therefore it has no great artistic value. The serenade, on the other hand, came from an inward impulse. I felt it, and I venture to hope that this work is not wholly lacking in artistic qualities.
Midway between a symphony and string quartet, the orchestration allows Tchaikovsky enough power and volume to achieve the intended emotions, but forces him to stay focused and not get too distracted with instrumentation. The result is a piece that’s straightforward and bright in complexion, with beautiful melodies interwoven in each of the four movements.The first movement opens with a slow introductory theme, echoing Mozart, whose symphonies often begin similarly. Tchaikovsky admitted that it was intended to be a subtle tribute to the master classicist. The second movement features a cheery waltz with two themes dancing around each other and propelling their energy forward, a delightful reminder of his talent for ballet music. Fun fact: parts of this movement were used in the hit Netflix show Squid Game!
After the emotional Elegy, Tchaikovsky uses a pastoral Russian folk melody in the fourth movement, before tying together the whole work by reintroducing the theme from the first movement. This technique was a favorite of his; he ends several of his symphonies this way.
The Serenade for Strings remains one of the great works for a large string ensemble, likely inspiring similar works by Elgar, Barber, and Shostakovich. For good reason, it endures as a pinnacle of the string repertoire.
Bruch Violin Concerto in G Minor, Op. 26
Max Bruch is largely remembered for two works: the Violin Concerto in G Minor and the Scottish Fantasy. He wasn’t considered a two-hit wonder in his day, though--he was a successful and respected conductor, composer, and composition teacher. He wrote several operas, symphonies, choral works, and solo pieces. His composition students included Ottorino Respighi and Ralph Vaughan Williams.
Bruch completed the initial sketches for his violin concerto in 1857. The first version was premiered in 1866 by violinist Otto von Königsglöw. Afterwards, Bruch made significant revisions, helped by the great violinist Johann Joachim, who re-premiered the final version we have today in 1868. He even considered re-titling it a “fantasy” because it’s much freer in form and structure than a typical concerto. The three movements flow together like a single coherent work, even though they are distinct. The first movement is a prelude and, where a traditional concerto would develop the theme, Bruch moves into the slow movement. This adagio, which does use the previous material, is the heart of the piece. Underneath the gorgeous violin line, the orchestra is always in motion, urging the melody forward. From this introverted movement, the dance-like finale comes crashing in like a rogue wave. To echo Johann Joachim, between the four great German violin concertos (Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and Brahms being the others), Bruch’s is certainly the most lavish and seductive of the bunch.
30 Pieces of Advice at 30
I made it! Having turned the grand old age of 30 last month, I thought it slightly appropriate to sit down and reflect for a bit. During a stormy afternoon, with a cup of tea in hand, I wrote down 30 little tidbits of ideas, lessons, and discoveries I’ve picked up over the years.
Although the title might mislead you, I view these not as pieces of advice for my younger persona. I’m not nearly old or experienced enough to give truly profound ‘rocking chair’ life lessons or anything of the like. These are instead simply reminders to myself and friendly suggestions to others. Hope you take something away from it :)
Living in the moment is a skill and mindset worth mastering. You want your memories to be reminders, not the highlights themselves.
Develop a unique combination of skills. If you’re the only one in the world at what you do, you’re by default the best.
Learn a language… because it’s fun. Even if you just learn 10 simple phrases, you’ll be treated like a VIP at the restaurant.
A simple cast iron teapot will be some of the best 50 dollars you’ll ever spend.
Learn how to compromise. It is often the quickest and most effective way to get what you want.
Knowing how your own brain works is more than half the battle in life. Know thyself, then trick thyself.
If you ever feel sad or lonely… create something. It could be something you build, something you design, something you make, something you paint, it could be a new hobby, an old hobby, etc. Just create something and put your name on it. This does wonders for your mental health.
Your overall success in life will be largely dependent on the number of uncomfortable conversations you’re willing to have.
If you want something to improve, measure it.
Fill out a life week chart. It’s not meant to scare you or create anxiety. It’ll just keep things in perspective.
Before traveling, read a piece of fiction set in your destination. Fiction captures a place in a magical and intangible way non-fiction simply cannot.
Only the mediocre are always at their best.
Satisfaction at work has much less to do with what you’re actually doing and more to do with who you’re doing it with. If you can, choose your manager, choose your co-workers, before you choose your projects.
When the pressure is on, you don’t rise to the occasion. You fall back to your highest level of preparation. Ask any performer.
‘Luck’ is where preparation meets opportunity. The common thread between all the greats: they were uncommonly well-prepared.
Try to stay through the end credits of every movie you watch. The strength of the wolf is the pack, greatness is never accomplished in singularity.
What you lack in experience you make up for in inexperience. It’s a valuable, but only temporary, asset. Learn how to use it.
You can always tell someone to “fuck off” tomorrow. Step back, take a deep breath, and cool down.
Sunk costs are the unspoken minefield of mistakes. Think hard and rationally when making a decision in which you have a significant monetary or time investment. Would you still do it if it weren't your money?
Read biographies. You are the average of the 5 people you spend the most time with. So why not ‘spend time’ with some of the greats?
Don’t ask, “What would you do if you knew you could not fail?” This is genuinely bad advice. Ask instead, “What would you do if you knew you would fail?”
If you want to start getting healthier, drink a glass of water and go on a walk. Figure out a ‘good enough’ next step and execute.
Never use Dawn dish soap in the dishwasher.
Don’t be the smartest person in the room. Be the most interesting person in the room. You’ll always get invited back.
Want to be interesting? Be curious and ask lots of questions. The more you want to know about someone, the more they’ll want to know about you.
There is nothing more permanent than a temporary solution. The internet still sits on a bed of early 1990s technology.
Great friends say bad things to your face and good things behind your back.
Perfection is the enemy of progress. Give yourself a deadline, so you don’t have time to make it perfect. Instead, you’ll have to make it different. Different is better.
Exquisite is such a great word… making something great, just because it can be. Pursue the exquisite from time to time.
And of course, I saved the best piece of advice for last.
Here’s to 30 more great ones!