Music for a Sunday Afternoon

featuring Blake Pouliot

2024-02-04 15:00 2024-02-04 17:00 60 Canada/Eastern 🎟 NAC: Music for a Sunday Afternoon

https://nac-cna.ca/en/event/33739

Join us for an intimate afternoon of chamber music at Carleton Dominion-Chalmers Centre with Blake Pouliot and some of NACO’s fantastic musicians. A perfect way to spend your Sunday afternoon! 

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Carleton Dominion-Chalmers Centre,355 Cooper St,Ottawa
Sun, February 4, 2024
Sun, February 4, 2024
Carleton Dominion-Chalmers Centre 355 Cooper St Ottawa

≈ 2 hours · With intermission

Last updated: January 24, 2024

Program

RICHARD STRAUSS String Sextet from Capriccio, Op. 85 (12 min)

Yosuke Kawasaki, violin
Noémi Racine Gaudreault, violin
David Marks, viola
David Goldblatt, viola
Rachel Mercer, cello
Leah Wyber, cello

JULIA PERRY Pastoral for flute and string sextet (4 min)

Joanna G’froerer, flute
Yosuke Kawasaki, violin
Noémi Racine Gaudreault, violin
David Marks, viola
David Goldblatt, viola
Rachel Mercer, cello
Leah Wyber, cello

LERA AUERBACH Seraphim Canticles for string sextet (11 min)

Yosuke Kawasaki, violin
Noémi Racine Gaudreault, violin
David Marks, viola
David Goldblatt, viola
Rachel Mercer, cello
Leah Wyber, cello

INTERMISSION

PYOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY String Sextet in D minor, Op. 70, “Souvenir de Florence” (35 min)

I. Allegro con spirito
II. Adagio cantabile e con moto
III. Allegro moderato
IV. Allegro vivace

Blake Pouliot, violin
Yosuke Kawasaki, violin
David Marks, viola
Paul Casey, viola
Rachel Mercer, cello
Leah Wyber, cello

Repertoire

RICHARD STRAUSS

String Sextet from Capriccio, Op. 85

German composer Richard Strauss (1864–1949) lived a remarkably long life that straddled the latter half of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century. In the late 1880s, he established an international reputation as a young, boldly modernist composer with a new form of symphonic composition—the tone poem. With each one he composed—from his first, Don Juan (1889), to his last major symphonic work Eine Alpensinfonie (An Alpine Symphony; 1911–15), Strauss found innovative and ever expansive ways of using orchestral timbre, texture, and sonority to vividly convey the breadth of human experience. In the early 1900s, he turned his artistic intentions to opera, writing grandiose, multi-layered scores for a range of dramatic librettos. Beginning with the modernistic music of the scandalous Salome (1905), Strauss completed a new opera about every two to three years. A recurring concern of his was the audibility of the text—that is, the balance between the singers and the orchestra. Related to the issue was a preoccupation of whether the words or the music were more important in opera. This topic became the basis of Capriccio, Strauss’s final work for the stage, which he completed in 1940–1941.

Bearing the subtitle of “Conversation Piece for Music”, Capriccio is a one-act debate that plays out in the form of two suitors—the composer Flamand and the poet Olivier—competing for the love of the widowed Countess Madeleine. Which will win her over—Olivier’s words or Flamand’s music? Together, they collaborate on a work so the Countess can compare the virtues of their respective fields of expertise; in the end, however, she’s unable to reach a decision: “A vain effort to separate the two”, she muses. “Words and music merged into one—combined to form a new thing. One art redeemed by the other!”

The opera opens with a string sextet that appears, initially, to be a prelude to the action. About two-thirds through, the curtain opens to reveal that we’ve been hearing six players perform a new work composed by Flamand for the Countess, which the opera’s characters would later discuss. This “conversation starter” is thus also itself a “conversation”, albeit a purely musical one, richly scored between the instruments of the sextet. It opens with the first violin introducing the main melody (or “topic”), whose motives are gently traded between the six players in gestures of imitation and question-and-answer in multi-layered exploration. The luscious and tender first part is followed by a dramatic recitative-like moment of stormy tremolos, which twice break out into fiery solo passages. It then transitions into an episode of more impassioned “debate”, as new motives are introduced and developed, while moving continuously through constantly shifting harmonies. Eventually, the intensity relaxes, and the tender opening melody returns in a varied recapitulation of the first section (in the opera, this is when the curtain opens, and we hear Olivier and Flamand discuss their feelings for the Countess.) After building to a final peak, the sextet draws to a quiet close.

JULIA PERRY

Pastoral for flute and string sextet

American composer Julia Amanda Perry (1924–1979) achieved acclaim during her lifetime for her music ranging from skilfully crafted works employing modern European techniques such as serialism to a blended style that incorporates themes and musical idioms of her African American heritage. Unfortunately, a myriad of factors including ill health and racial discrimination led to her artistic contributions being nearly forgotten near the end of her life and following her death. In recent years, however, researchers and performers have worked to positive effect to bring her compositions to light again in scholarship, the concert hall, and through recordings, such as the Akron Symphony’s Julia Perry Project.

Perry spent much of the 1950s in Europe, having received the prestigious Guggenheim Fellowship twice: the first, in 1952, to study with the Italian composer Luigi Dallapiccola in Florence; the second two years later, to work with Nadia Boulanger, the famed pedagogue of many 20th-century composers, in Paris. She later returned to Italy in 1956, and stayed there until 1959; besides composing, she also delivered lectures and conducted orchestras in various European cities for the U.S. Information Service. During this period, Perry developed a style of composition that was, according to musicologist Helen Walker-Hill, particularly influenced by Dallapiccola’s 12-tone techniques, with “his emphasis on motivic unity, rich orchestration, and expressive melodic lines combined with austere contemporary practices.”

Composed in 1959 during a residency at the MacDowell Colony following Perry’s return to the United States, the Pastoral for flute and string sextet is a compelling example of her abstract, modern European style, deftly combining “lyricism and modified serialism”, as described by Walker-Hill. Beginning with a resonant chord, the flute alone then unfurls, in its high register, a meditative melody featuring a “short-long” falling gesture (with a slight accent on the short note). It reaches a questioning peak, to which the strings answer with a descending phrase. A fugal episode ensues, with flute and first violin together, first viola, second violin, and first cello playing, in turn, entries of the subject—a variant of the opening line with its characteristic falling gesture. Eventually, the contrapuntal layers build to an intense climax with all seven instruments. The tension unwinds on the meditative theme’s main motive played by the strings, after which, over sustained tones in the lower strings, the flute recapitulates part of the original melody and rounds it off gently. A reflective postlude closes the Pastoral with ambivalent tranquility.

LERA AUERBACH

Seraphim Canticles for string sextet

Lera Auerbach’s biography describes her as “a renaissance artist for modern times” with a multi-faceted career as a conductor, pianist, and composer, as well as being an award-winning poet and an exhibited visual artist. “All of her work is interconnected as part of a cohesive and comprehensive artistic worldview.” Her performances and music are featured on the world’s leading stages—from Vienna’s Musikverein and London’s Royal Albert Hall to New York’s Carnegie Hall and Washington D.C.’s Kennedy Center.

As a composer, the Russian American Auerbach (b. 1973) is widely known for the strong communicative and emotional power of her music. Grounded in traditional Western tonality though inflected with sharp dissonances, her distinctive style employs extreme contrasts in dynamics, instrumental colour, and texture as well as forceful gestures, to gripping effect. She composes with vivid metaphors and stories in mind, often tinged with a striking sense of irony.

Auerbach composed the string sextet entitled Seraphim Canticles in 2011. While she no longer prefers to write program notes about her music (“let music connect directly to the listener regardless of the composer’s own attempts to interpret its essence,” she’s said), Auerbach has shared in interviews the context in which this work arose and her ideas behind it. As she told the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, where the piece was premiered:

[Seraphim Canticles] is very personal—an intense prayer, an unflinching gaze into despair, perhaps. I always give a title to a work only after it has been composed. So, the music is never about anything concrete, but only about itself, music simply is. Still, the sextet in many ways reflects the moment of writing it. As I was contemplating the numerological significance of the number six, it connected in my mind to the six wings of the fiery and terrifying angel Seraph. Seraph (literally, the burning one) is one of the most important angels in celestial hierarchy—a flaming angel who purifies the mouth of a prophet.


I started working on the sextet at the Leighton Artists Studios of the Banff Centre, which generously offered me residency after my apartment in New York’s Upper West Side burnt down in a devastating fire. This fire devoured my beloved Steinway Concert Grand, manuscripts, and a vast library, which was started in Russia by my grandfather and contained many priceless first editions as well as family memorabilia. The experience of losing everything you own can be empowering—at least I have chosen to view it as such. Fire purifies and allows for rebirth. I also felt this was a rather artistic (if not overly dramatic) way of life to imprint and signal its next spiral.

From the musicians, Seraphim Canticles, “requires burning intensity, full emotional commitment, and great sensitivity to the colours and shades of sound,” Auerbach says. As guidance for interpretation, she included the following note to the performers in the sextet’s score: “This work explores different levels of emotional intensity, from deepest despair to exaltation. It burns with intensity, like Seraph, the six-winged angel, full of terrifying fire. This inner fire needs to be present in the performance to the greatest degree and is the most important aspect of this work.”

PYOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

String Sextet in D minor, Op. 70, “Souvenir de Florence”

I. Allegro con spirito
II. Adagio cantabile e con moto
III. Allegro moderato
IV. Allegro vivace

In June 1887, Tchaikovsky (1840–1893) began to make sketches for a string sextet, a proposed “thank-you” gift to the violinist Eugen Albrecht for being elected an honorary member to the St. Petersburg Chamber Music Society the previous autumn. He struggled to make progress, however, and soon gave up; as he wrote to his brother Modest: “I am writing with unlikely effort. What is making it difficult for me is not the lack of thoughts, but the novelty of form. One must have six independent, generically similar voices. This is improbably difficult.” He eventually returned to the sextet in June 1890, and finished it quickly during the following month, but he remained uncertain as to whether it was any good. After an initial private performance was given in November by Albrecht and five other musicians, Tchaikovsky decided to revise the third and fourth movements, completing the changes in January 1892. The new version was publicly premiered in December at a St. Petersburg Chamber Music Society concert.

Tchaikovsky gave his sextet the title of “Souvenir de Florence” but did not explain it. According to Modest, it had to do with “the first theme of the Andante being sketched in Florence in the winter of 1890.” This was the last excursion the composer made to the Italian city; in the past, his patron and confidante Nadezhda von Meck offered him the use of her small villa there as a peaceful escape for work or relaxation. (Shortly after the sextet was finished, Meck suffered a financial crisis and had to withdraw her monetary support of Tchaikovsky.) These Florentine sojourns had given him great pleasure, and as Tchaikovsky scholar Roland John Wiley has observed, this sextet appears to encapsulate his experience there, evoked, for example, in the work’s “timbral embodiment, in the saucy rhythm of the third movement, in the folkish drone of the finale, and not least in song, that fundament of Italy, found in every movement.”

Full of verve, the first movement takes us on a thrilling ride through its various themes, including a spirited opener and a contrasting lyrical melody introduced by the first violin. Throughout, the individual parts are very active, as if revelling in their vigorous exchange of motives; in the developmental section, they imbue the thicker contrapuntal textures with a restless momentum that build to a climactic reprise of the first theme. Later, the singing melody returns, enriched with new details so it now sounds sweeter than in its first presentation, after which the ensemble rushes toward an exciting finish. 

The Adagio cantabile begins with a sumptuous introduction, somewhat tinged with melancholy. Plucked guitar-like accompaniment follows, over which the first violin sings the main serenade-like theme. First cello responds and the two instruments engage in a tender duet. The mood intensifies when first viola enters with an impassioned elaboration on the theme, culminating with a return to the sonorous chords of the opening. This material, which comes back in slightly varied form, bookends a shuddering central episode featuring dramatic swells and accents, made more otherworldly by having the musicians play at the very tip of their bows.

First viola opens the Scherzo with a somewhat sorrowful melody, which, after some contrapuntal exploration, reappears transformed, robust and defiant in the cellos against rapid-fire figures in the other strings. The central Trio (one of the parts that Tchaikovsky had revised) provides sparkling contrast, with the strings playing a vivacious tune incorporating saltando effects (quick bouncing bow strokes), which continue into the Scherzo’s reprise, infusing it with fresh energy.

Among the major revisions Tchaikovsky made to the sextet was to remove a three-part fugato from the original Trio and insert a fugue into the finale instead. He was especially content with the change, writing to Modest about the revised version, “What a Sextet—and what a fugue at the end—it’s a pleasure!” What’s remarkable is how Tchaikovsky uses the fugue—and fugal counterpoint— to dramatic effect, evoking a dance getting ever wilder. After a drone-like start, the first violin quietly presents the main theme in D minor—a light-stepping tune of folk-like character. Soon after, the six instruments engage in a brief fugato (hear the instruments enter in turn with a boldly accented phrase), after which the second theme— a smooth, soaring melody—follows. The developmental section begins with more counterpoint, eventually leading to the fugue with the folk-like tune as its thematic subject—listen for the entries by the violins, then violas, then cellos. These three pairs of voices then separate into six that interweave and imitate each other, building tension that is finally released by the violins playing the soaring melody. Soon, the sextet picks up speed, and in the final moments, the dance reaches ecstatic heights with the main theme appearing in triumphant D major.

Program notes by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

Artists

  • pouliot-main-2022claurenhurt-02-cropped
    Violin Blake Pouliot
  • Flute Joanna G’froerer
  • yosuke-kawasaki
    Violin Yosuke Kawasaki
  • violin Noémi Racine Gaudreault
  • Viola David Marks
  • david-goldblatt
    Viola David Goldblatt
  • paul-casey
    Viola Paul Casey
  • Cello Rachel Mercer
  • Cello Leah Wyber