Bancroft, Dvořák & Clara-Jumi Kang

with the NAC Orchestra

2025-02-19 20:00 2025-02-20 23:00 60 Canada/Eastern 🎟 NAC: Bancroft, Dvořák & Clara-Jumi Kang

https://nac-cna.ca/en/event/36132

In-person event

Clara-Jumi Kang is a fearless performer. She nails every performance, playing what “electrifying” sounds like.  Since winning the Malko Prize, Maestro Ryan Bancroft has become one of classical music’s MVPs.  Swedish composer Andrea Tarrodi brings a glimmering and light touch to her music, often evoking the natural world, as she does in tonight’s concert with a musical portrait of fireflies, or “Lucioles.” Andrea was inspired...

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Southam Hall,1 Elgin Street,Ottawa,Canada
February 19 - 20, 2025
February 19 - 20, 2025

≈ 2 hours · With intermission

Repertoire

ANDREA TARRODI

Lucioles

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61 (James Ehnes) (44 mins)

Born in Bonn, December 16, 1770
Died in Vienna, March 26, 1827

Beethoven’s only contribution to the repertoire of violin concertos proved to be a landmark. Not only was it longer and more complex than any previous work of its kind, but in symphonic thought and expansiveness it eclipsed all predecessors. It is still considered one of the most exalted of all concertos for any instrument; its only peer in the pantheon of violin concertos is the Brahms concerto (also in D major).

Beethoven wrote the concerto in late 1806, the year he worked on or completed such other masterpieces as the Fourth Symphony, the Fourth Piano Concerto, the three Rasumovsky Quartets, the first revision of Fidelio and the 32 Variations in C minor for piano. As was common in that era, Beethoven wrote for a specific soloist, the virtuoso Franz Clement (1780–1842). Clement was, by all accounts, one of the most gifted musicians in all Vienna, with a musical memory that rivaled Mozart’s. His stellar career began when he was still a child, performing at the Imperial Opera House in Vienna and under the direction of Haydn in London. In his adult years he became concertmaster and conductor of the Vienna Opera. Beethoven’s concerto resulted from a request from Clement for a concerto to play at his benefit concert scheduled for December 23, 1806 at the Theater an der Wien. The deeply lyrical quality of this concerto, the finesse of its phrases and its poetry all reflect the attributes of Clement’s playing, which according to contemporary accounts was marked by perfect intonation, suppleness of bow control, “gracefulness and tenderness of expression” and “indescribable delicacy, neatness and elegance.”  

Five soft beats on the timpani usher in the concerto. These even, repeated notes become one of the movement’s great unifying devices, occurring in many contexts and moods. The inner tension of this movement is heightened by the contrast of this five-beat throb and the gracious lyricism of its melodies. The two principal themes are both, as it happens, introduced by a woodwind group, both are built exclusively on scale patterns of D major, and both are sublimely lyrical and reposed in spirit.

The Larghetto is one of Beethoven’s most sublimely beautiful, hymn-like slow movements. Little “happens” here in the traditional sense; a mood of deep peace, contemplation and introspection prevails while three themes, all in G major, weave their way through a series of free-form variations.

A brief cadenza leads directly into the rollicking Finale – a rondo with a memorable recurring principal theme, numerous horn flourishes suggestive of the hunt, and many humorous touches.

Program notes by Robert Markow

Antonín Dvořák

Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88

ANTONÍN DVOŘÁK
Born in Mühlhausen (near Prague), Bohemia (today Nelahozeves, Czech Republic), September 8, 1841
Died in Prague, May 1, 1904

The genial, carefree spirit of Dvořák’s Symphony No. 8 has endeared it to generations of concertgoers. Its prevailing happy spirit, idyllic moods and evocations of nature and simple rustic life call to mind other symphonies of a pastoral nature: Beethoven’s Sixth, Schumann’s Spring Symphony (No. 1), Schubert’s Fifth, Mahler’s Fourth and Brahms’s Second.

Dvořák began work on his Eighth Symphony in late August 1889. He was in high spirits and full of creative confidence. He “complained” to a friend that his head was so full of ideas that it was a pity it took so much time to jot them down. “Melodies simply pour out of me.” For this reason, it took him only 12 days to write the composition sketch for the first movement, a week for the second, four days for the third and six for the finale. The orchestration required an additional six weeks. Three months after commencing work on it, the score was ready for the printer, who, in this exceptional case, was not the usual Simrock, but the English firm of Novello. Dvořák conducted the first performance on February 2, 1890 in Prague.

It used to be fashionable to dub this work Dvořák’s “English” Symphony, but the composer himself dedicated the score “To the Bohemian Academy of Emperor Franz Josef for the encouragement of art and literature, in thanks for my election.” The symphony does indeed reflect the composer’s renewed interest in Czech nationalism, and with its dedication to the Academy, the title “Bohemian” would seem more appropriate. Dvořák composed it at his summer home in Vysoká, where the natural beauty and rustic charm of his native country worked its way through the soul of the symphony.

The conditions under which this work was written compare very closely to those under which Brahms composed his Second Symphony. In the case of both composers, we find a symphony of warmly lyric, relaxed character following one darkly serious and grim. To carry the analogy further, both compositions were written in an idyllic countryside setting, which both composers credited with stimulating their creative urges to a greater degree than usual. Still another parallel with Brahms can be noted. Both composers were invited to receive an honorary Doctorate from Cambridge University – Brahms in 1876, and Dvořák in 1891. Brahms declined; he had little tolerance for academic formalities, and he simply couldn’t be bothered to make the trip to England (a personal appearance was mandatory for conferral of the degree). Dvořák accepted, and offered as his “exercise” the recently completed Symphony in G major.  

On his sixth trip to England, he attended the stuffy ceremony, but recalled the event in something less than glowing terms: “I shall never forget how I felt when they made me a Doctor in England. Nothing but ceremony, and nothing but doctors. All faces were serious, and it seemed to me as if no one knew any other language but Latin. I looked to the right and to the left, and I did not know to whom I was to listen. And when I realized that they were talking to me, I had quite a shock, and I was ashamed at not knowing Latin. But when I think of it today, I must laugh, and I think that to compose the Stabat Mater is, after all, more than equal to knowing Latin.” Like Brahms, Dvořák felt much more at home in the countryside of his homeland than in a university environment. As part of the presentation ceremony, Dvořák led the London Philharmonic in performances of his symphony and the Stabat Mater.

The symphony’s first movement presents analysts with a puzzle: What role does the opening nostalgic theme play? Is it the “first” theme, or an introduction? Is the “main” theme then the simple, birdlike tune played later by the flute? If so, what then does one call the warmly noble cello theme that follows the timpani’s “rat-a-tat” and the succeeding idea characterized by upward leaping octaves in the cellos? No matter, really. The point is that Dvořák did incorporate a great wealth of melody into this movement. One program annotator (Richard Freed) finds in it “an atmosphere of fairy tales and forest legends… bird calls, woodland sounds and bluff Slavonic marches.”

The second movement, like the first, opens with a nostalgic, rather solemn theme. A second idea in C major offers a new theme in the flute and oboe, accompanied by descending scales in the violins. An angry outburst from the horns leads to a brief, anxiety-filled passage, but sun, warmth and charm soon return.

The third movement is a graceful waltz, which frames a central trio section announced by a new theme in the flute and oboe. Dvořák borrowed this theme from his opera The Stubborn Lovers. The waltz returns, and a brief, energetic coda concludes the movement.

A trumpet fanfare opens the Finale, followed by a charming and carefree theme in the cellos. Simple and natural as the theme sounds, it caused Dvořák much difficulty. He wrote 10 different versions of it before he was satisfied. (Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” theme underwent a similar metamorphosis.) Dvořák then builds a set of variations on this theme, including an exuberant outburst from the full orchestra with trilling horns and scurrying strings. A central section in C minor presents a new march-like idea. When this subsides, Dvořák returns to the peaceful world of the principal theme, which undergoes further variations. A rousing coda brings the symphony to a brilliant close.

Program notes by Robert Markow

Artists

  • clara-jumi-kang-4-cropped
    violin Clara-Jumi Kang
  • fave-ryan-bancroft-6-cr-b.ealovega
    Conductor Ryan Bancroft
  • bio-orchestra
    Featuring NAC Orchestra

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