Ludwig van Beethoven – Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, op. 125 “Choral”

A note on Ludwig van Beethoven’s view of the healing power of music: 

One of Beethoven’s former students, Dorothea von Ertmann, suffered the loss of her only child. Although consumed with grief, she despaired at being incapable of crying. Upon hearing of her disconsolate circumstance, Beethoven invited her for a visit. He then sat at the piano and played. As he ended, she began sobbing. He rose, patted her on the hand, and silently left the room. Ertmann told her niece that it sounded like angels singing and she was able to briefly glimpse the heavenly light that her little toddler had entered. 

This is only one example of many of Beethoven giving the cathartic gift of music to suffering loved ones. His epic and incomparable Ninth Symphony is just that: his gift to all mankind. After so much suffering during the decades of the French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars, Beethoven knew that what the world needed then, and forever, is to strive for brotherly love and unity above our human condition.

Sadly this soul’s medicine was barred to Beethoven, as his ailment became deafness. In one journal entry, he wrote:

“Art, when it is persecuted, finds asylum anywhere. Why, Daedalus when confined to the labyrinth invented wings which lifted him upwards and out into the air. Oh, I too shall find them, those wings…”

On the piece: 

The premiere took place in Vienna on May 7, 1824 and the performance was legendary not only for the breadth and scope of such a monumental work, but by Beethoven’s comportment. Too deaf to conduct, but unwilling to not be totally involved, he stood by the conductor for the duration of the performance, all the while gesticulating and directing tempos. He was so engrossed he missed the finale’s conclusion. A spector reflected forty years later: 

… (Beethoven) continued standing with his back to the audience, and beating the time, till Fräulein Unger, who had sung the contralto part, turned him… (to) face the people, who were still clapping their hands, and giving way to the greatest demonstrations of pleasure. His turning round, and the sudden conviction thereby forced upon everybody that he had not done so before, because he could not hear what was going on, acted like an electric shock on all present, and a volcanic explosion of sympathy and admiration followed…

The opening is startlingly dramatic for its emergence out of seeming nothingness. The void is depicted by hollow perfect intervals, which develop into chaotic and thunderous beginnings. The second movement’s scherzo is an unrelenting replacement of the symphony’s standard relaxed and refined minuet. Its unconventional second position within the order would have been jarring to contemporary listeners. The peaceful Adagio showcases woodwind lyricism and foreshadows the upcoming ode. 

The fourth movement’s opening cacophonous clash, in my opinion, is a musical depiction of anxiety’s chest pain and tightening. In fact, the symphony is set in D minor, the key associated with “the spleen,” the 18th century’s name for anxiety. The baritone is the first singer to enter stating, “Oh friends, not these tones!” thus beginning the call to unity. The famous ”Ode to Joy” features selections from Friedrich Schiller’s 1785 ode “An die Freude,” which Beethoven had long admired. The remainder of the movement is set in D major, the key of triumph, victories, and hallelujahs. Beethoven recaps the previous movements, as if to remind us of how far we have come together. He “pulls out all the stops” of compositional prowess: he employs multiple difficult forms including a double fugue and a theme and variations. He even incorporates elements from other cultures like modalities and the Turkish march (Turks were the stereotypical “bad guys” to the older generation of Germans at the time). The amalgamation of all these components in one movement signifies that though we humans are many parts and come from different cultures and religions, we can come together to end strife and rejoice in a loving and benevolent deity. 

Program Notes by Caroline Anderson

Program Notes: Sound and Fury 

Sound and Fury 

Anna Clyne (b.1980)

Composed 2019

approx. 16 minutes 

Program notes by composer: Sound and Fury draws upon two great works of art for its inspiration: Haydn’s Symphony No. 60 (“Il Distratto”) and Shakespeare’s Macbeth. The piece was premiered by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra on a program that included this Haydn symphony.

“ll Distratto” incorporates Haydn’s music for Le Distrait, a play by Jean-François Regnard, so it seemed fitting to draw inspiration from both musical and literary sources for Sound and Fury. To begin, I listened to “lI Distratto” many times and on a single sheet of paper, I wrote down the key elements that caught my ear, which ranged from rhythmic gestures to melodic ideas, harmonic progressions, and even a musical joke (Haydn brings the feverish final prestissimo to a grinding halt for the violins to re-tune). I chose between one and four elements from each of the six movements and developed them through my own lens – layering, stretching, fragmenting and looping. Whilst experienced as one complete movement, Sound and Fury is also structured in six sub-sections that follow the same trajectory of “ll Distratto.”

In the fifth section of Sound and Fury I looped a harmonic progression from Haydn’s Adagio in “ll Distratto,” and this provides a bed of sound to support the delivery of “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…,” the last soliloquy delivered by Macbeth upon learning of his wife’s death, and from which this work takes its title.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

The connection to Shakespeare’s play emerged gradually during the writing process, but especially after watching a recording of a 1979 masterclass with Sir Ian McKellen analyzing this soliloquy’s imagery and rhythmic use of language. Time lies at the heart of it – “hereafter … time … tomorrow … to day … yesterday …” and music provides us with this framework. The last line of this soliloquy (“Signifying nothing.”) is incomplete; McKellen explains “the beats of the rest of that pentameter are not there – because the end of the speech is total silence – total oblivion – total emptiness.” So rich in imagery and metaphor, I also found inspiration in Shakespeare’s rhythmic use of language. For example, before delivering this soliloquy, and after learning of his wife’s death Macbeth says, “She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word.” McKellen says: “There’s something about that line which trips – in Hamlet’s words – tick tocks like a clock.” This is something that I play with also – layering rhythmic fragments that repeat and mark the passage of time.

My intention with Sound and Fury is to take the listener on a journey that is both invigorating – with ferocious string gestures that are flung around the orchestra with skittish outbursts – and serene and reflective – with haunting melodies that emerge and recede. Thank you to the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, The Orchestre National de Lyon and Hong Kong Sinfonietta for this opportunity to delve into “ll Distratto” for the first time, and to revisit Macbeth.

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The Hebrides Overture, op. 26

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)

Composed 1830, revised and premiered 1832

approx. 10:30 minutes 

Felix Mendelssohn’s Hebrides Overture was inspired by his 1829 journey to the Scottish Highlands and the Hebrides Islands. While traveling with his friend Karl Klingemann, Mendelssohn was deeply moved by the dramatic landscapes, and composed the piece in Tobermory before even visiting the place which gives this overture its nickname, Fingal’s Cave. Mendelssohn conducted and premiered the work in London in 1832, marking it as a standout example of the Romantic concert overture, capturing the stark beauty of the Hebrides through vivid musical imagery.

The Hebrides Overture follows a free-flowing structure that loosely adheres to sonata form, with a distinct shift from B minor to D major, reflecting the rugged beauty of the Hebrides. The opening bars contain the main thematic material, which listeners will hear wind and develop throughout the piece. The work alternates between calm, oscillating rhythms that represent the sea and then stormier, more dramatic moments that evoke the unpredictable Scottish weather. One particularly moving moment occurs when the second theme that is initially introduced by the cellos, is restated by clarinets in a serene contrast to the previous storm. This interchange of calm and turbulence mirrors the ever-changing conditions of the Hebrides’ weather. This tone-poem of an overture presents a significant portrayal of nature’s grandeur, and will leave the listener with a vivid sense of the wild, untamed beauty of the Hebrides.

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Symphony No. 3, Op. 55 “Eroica”                         

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Composed 1804

approx. 57 minutes

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 was a revolutionary work when it premiered in 1805. The symphony was originally titled “Bonaparte,” an homage to Napoleon, whom Beethoven admired for his democratic ideals. However, upon learning of Napoleon’s self-coronation as emperor, Beethoven flew into a rage and changed the title to Sinfonia eroica (“Heroic Symphony”), reflecting his disillusionment. Unlike his first two symphonies, Beethoven’s 3rd work pushed the boundaries of the symphonic form with its unusual material and structural innovations, as well as its unprecedented length. Eroica is almost an hour long, which was nearly twice as long as the average symphony of the time, causing some to complain about its exhaustion. In fact, the opening theme, with its unexpected turns was unusual and unsettling that during a performance, Beethoven had to restart the first movement due to the orchestra’s confusion over his syncopated rhythms. Beethoven’s writing for the french horn in the middle of the first movement at first sounds out of place, presenting much tension until resolving to the expected harmony. The second movement of Eroica introduces a funeral march that was entirely new and shocking to listeners. The symphony’s finale, with its theme taken from Beethoven’s ballet The Creatures of Prometheus, is a reminder of Beethoven’s admiration for the mythological titan. The use of this theme in the finale of the Eroica may symbolically represent the strength and honored heroism that encapsulates the character of the entire symphony. 

Program Notes by Abigail Mistretta

Program Notes – Vive La France

Trois Nocturnes – Claude Debussy (1862–1918) – Completed 1899 – 25 Minutes

 Debussy’s Trois Nocturnes captures the essence of impressionism in music, drawing inspiration from visual art and poetic imagery. The three movements—Nuages (Clouds), Fêtes (Festivals), and Sirènes (Sirens)—present vivid, atmospheric soundscapes. Nuages portrays the slow, drifting clouds over a tranquil horizon, with delicate orchestration and shifting harmonies. Fêtes erupts into vibrant energy, echoing the lively atmosphere of a French festival with pulsating rhythms and jubilant melodies. Finally, Sirènes mesmerizes with its ethereal beauty, featuring a wordless women’s chorus evoking the seductive allure of mythical sea sirens. Debussy’s masterful orchestration and innovative harmonic language make Trois Nocturnes a cornerstone of 20th-century music.

Africa, Fantasy for Piano and Orchestra – Camille Saint-Saëns (1835–1921) – Completed 1891 – 10 Minutes

 Saint-Saëns’ Africa is a dazzling musical postcard inspired by his travels across North Africa. Composed in 1891, the work is a vibrant fantasia blending virtuosic piano passages with orchestral splendor. Rooted in exoticism, the piece showcases Saint-Saëns’ fascination with local melodies and rhythms, weaving them into a colorful tapestry that reflects the region’s energy and allure. The piano’s lively brilliance and the orchestra’s spirited accompaniment create an engaging dialogue, resulting in a captivating celebration of African culture as viewed through a 19th-century Romantic lens.

Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso – Camille Saint-Saëns (1835–1921) – Completed 1863 – 9 Minutes

 A virtuosic showpiece for violin, Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso is a quintessential Romantic-era gem. Originally written for the great Spanish violinist Pablo de Sarasate in 1863, this work combines elegance with fiery technical brilliance. The opening Introduction is lyrical and melancholic, setting the stage for the lively Rondo Capriccioso, marked by dazzling runs, quicksilver shifts, and rhythmic vitality. This piece exemplifies Saint-Saëns’ gift for balancing technical difficulty with profound musical expression, making it a beloved staple of the violin repertoire.

Daphnis and Chloe Suite No. 2 – Maurice Ravel (1875–1937)- Completed 1912 – 17 Minutes

 Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloe Suite No. 2 represents the pinnacle of French impressionism in orchestral music, drawn from his 1912 ballet commissioned by Sergei Diaghilev for the Ballets Russes. This suite condenses the ballet’s second act into three movements: Daybreak, Pantomime, and Danse générale. Opening with shimmering orchestral textures, Daybreak paints a serene dawn over the ancient pastoral landscape, featuring the orchestra and wordless chorus in an evocative depiction of light and awakening. Pantomime follows with a tender, flowing melody that highlights the love story of Daphnis and Chloe, and the Danse générale erupts in ecstatic celebration, full of vibrant rhythms and dazzling orchestration.

The inclusion of a wordless chorus enhances the work’s impressionistic qualities, blending human voices seamlessly into the instrumental fabric. This innovative use of the choir transforms the music into an otherworldly sonic experience, evoking both the mysticism of ancient Greece and the richness of Ravel’s unique harmonic palette. The suite culminates in a breathtaking display of orchestral and choral virtuosity, leaving audiences exhilarated and enchanted.

Program Notes: Opening Weekend of the Symphony – Fate, Goblins, and the Mothership

Taken together, Mothership, The Water Goblin, and Symphony No. 4 show us just how versatile orchestral music can be. Bates offers us a futuristic vision full of energy and connectivity, Dvořák takes us to the mysterious and sometimes terrifying world of folklore, and Tchaikovsky reveals his innermost battles with destiny itself.

Mothership is a celebration of modernity and connection—an exhilarating reminder of what we can accomplish when we come together with creativity and openness. Dvořák’s Water Goblin, by contrast, is haunting, pulling us into a darker, cautionary story about the unknown forces of nature, told with vivid imagery and emotional weight. Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony is intimate and deeply human, an exploration of fate that resonates with anyone who has faced a struggle and found the strength to persevere.

Whether it’s the futuristic optimism of Bates, the eerie beauty of Dvořák, or the emotional depth of Tchaikovsky, tonight’s program is a reminder of the power of music to tell our stories—stories of connection, of nature’s mysteries, and of human resilience. Each piece, in its own way, speaks to something essential about who we are, where we come from, and where we’re going.

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Mason Bates: Mothership

Year of Composition: 2011

Duration: 10 minutes

Mason Bates’ Mothership is a thrilling piece that reimagines what an orchestra can be in the 21st century. Imagine a spacecraft, gleaming with possibility, docking to bring together travelers from all corners of the universe. That’s the kind of energy Bates brings to Mothership. Premiered in 2011 with a burst of enthusiasm from the YouTube Symphony Orchestra, it blends classical orchestral instruments with electronic beats and synthesized sounds, making it both familiar and excitingly new.

Bates’ music captures the thrill of connection—of different people and styles converging. It’s an optimistic nod to our era, where technology isn’t just a tool but a gateway to exploration, collaboration, and creativity. As the rhythmic pulses and shimmering orchestral colors intertwine, we get a glimpse of what happens when tradition and innovation collide—something wondrous, forward-looking, and undeniably human.

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Antonín Dvořák: The Water Goblin, Op. 107

Year of Composition: 1896

Duration: 21 minutes

With The Water Goblin, Antonín Dvořák takes us into the depths of folklore—down into dark waters where eerie things lurk. Written in 1896, this symphonic poem paints a vivid picture of a chilling tale, drawn from Czech poet Karel Jaromír Erben’s collection. The story unfolds like a haunting legend: a young girl is lured into the depths by a sinister water goblin, forced to live in his underwater world—a world that’s full of beauty, mystery, and inevitable tragedy.

Dvořák’s music is so descriptive you can almost see the ripples of the lake and hear the unsettling splashes of the goblin emerging from its depths. The restless motifs of the goblin and the melancholy themes of the young girl bring this dark folktale to life. It’s a piece that reminds us of the stories our ancestors told to explain the unknown forces of nature, stories that still resonate because of their raw, timeless power.

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Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4 in F minor, Op. 36

Year of Composition: 1877-1888

Duration: 43 minutes

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 is perhaps one of the most personal and heartfelt symphonies of the Romantic era. Composed during one of the most difficult times in his life, Tchaikovsky called this symphony his “fate” symphony—one that deals with destiny’s power to shape our lives. Written between 1877 and 1878, the piece is dedicated to his patron, Nadezhda von Meck, with whom Tchaikovsky shared his deepest thoughts about the work. In those letters, he described Symphony No. 4 as portraying the struggles we all face when fate seems to have the upper hand.

The dramatic opening fanfare, played by the brass, symbolizes the inevitable force of fate—a theme that reappears throughout the symphony as if to remind us of its ever-present influence. From this ominous beginning, the symphony takes us through a range of emotions: moments of despair and resignation, reflective nostalgia, playful diversions, and ultimately an exuberant attempt to overcome fate. The final movement, infused with the spirit of a lively Russian folk dance, is defiant, triumphant, and full of life, as if to say that despite the difficulties fate may throw at us, joy and resilience can still be found.

Program Notes by Joshua Mazur