Red Lodge Music Festival 2012
Faculty Chamber Music Series
With Program Notes by Gerald Davidson
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Performed by Mark Fenderson and Gerald Makeever, trumpet
Dan Phillips, horn
Loren Marsteller, trombone
Chris Dickey, tuba
John Cheetham was born in Taos, New Mexico in 1939 and is now Professor Emeritus of Music Theory and Composition at the University of Missouri at Columbia. His specialty has been the low brass instruments, particularly trombone and euphonium. He has composed pieces for a broad variety of musical ensembles: chamber ensembles, concert bands, orchestras, and choruses. A number of Cheetham’s titles reflect the middle-America where he makes his home, such as Journey of Three Rivers, Missouri River Songs and Dances, Three Bentons, and Three Binghams. Cheetham is very much a centrist himself–he describes himself as an unapologetic conservative–and his works usually feature singable melodies and straightforward rhythms. Since his retirement he continues to compose, conduct, and occasionally perform in ensembles.
The Scherzo is relatively short piece composed in 1963: a single movement for a brass quintet. Since it first appeared it has become one of the standard pieces in the repertory for brass quintet. As a mark of how the world and communications have changed since the Rite of Spring was premiered 99 years ago–and largely ignored until the ballet was restaged in the 1920s–the Scherzo became an immediate success and is offered in a half-dozen amateur renditions on YouTube. It is in classical ABA (rondo) form, with a theme, variation, and restatement of the theme.
Zoltán Kodály: Cello Sonata, Op. 8
III. Allegro molto vivace
Performed by Ruth Boden, cello
Zoltán Kodály was born in 1882 in Kecskemét, Hungary. Though he lived most of his life in Hungary, where he died in 1967, Kodály has had a profound influence on worldwide music. He is best known for his colorful orchestral works, such as the music to the opera Háry János, Op. 15 (1926) and the Peacock Variations (1939). Kodály’s fame is even more secure in the world of music as one of the founders of ethnomusicology. He was among the first to collect and rigorously document folk music from throughout eastern Europe, particularly Hungary and Roumania. That is no small achievement when we consider that before the mid twentieth century most of eastern Europe was a place of few roads, at a state of development comparable with the United States a hundred years earlier. While others such as Antonín Dvořák (1841—1904) occasionally found and used folk tunes, they seldom documented the sources. Some of the melodies used by Dvořák and his successor Leoš Janáček (1854—1928) have never been traced to authentic folk sources and may actually have been inventions of the composers. One of the first great collections of folk music anywhere was a set Kodály published in 1906, with his close friend Béla Bartók (1881—1945). Kodály’s fascination with folk music lasted all his life.
Despite his interest in folk music, much of Kodály’s composed music shows few outward signs of folk origins. The ethnic colors are there, but they often grow out of the composer’s deep knowledge of traditional rhythms and harmonies. Some compositions, such as the cello sonatas, are quite classical in form. The Sonata for Solo Cello, Op. 8 of 1915, of which we will hear a single movement, has become one of the standards of the cello literature.
Sergei Prokofiev, Sonata for Two Violins, Op. 56
I. Andante cantabile
II. Allegro
III. Commodo
IV. Allegro con brio
Performed by June Huang and Megan Kenny, violin
Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev (1891—1953) is a twentieth-century composer whose name is familiar to every music lover. He was born in what is now Ukraine and showed prodigious talent at a very early age. There is a story that his first composition was transcribed by his mother in the key of F-Lydian, with a B-natural rather than a B-flat because he was so small that he couldn’t handle the black keys. He was also, from the earliest age, a chess enthusiast. So, when he arrived at the conservatory, he was not only one of the most brilliant pupils, but also the most adventurous of a group of young radicals. However his radical approach to music caused some harassment there and would later cause him very much trouble. His first serious problems were with the new revolutionary government; so, when the atmosphere became uncomfortable in Russia, he left for New York in 1918. Prokofiev became one of the stars of the music world of New York and Paris, and he stayed away from the Soviet Union until 1935. The Sonata for Two Violins, Op. 56, along with the very popular Lieutenant Kije and the ballet Romeo and Juliet are from the untroubled years, just before he returned, when Prokofiev was beginning to receive commissions from the Soviet Union and invitations to return.
The Sonata is relatively cheerful and uncomplicated, something it shares with the other works of that period. There is none of the anger we sense in the works shortly after Prokofiev moved back to the Soviet Union and realized he had made a bargain with the devil. In striking contrast, some of the piano works of the 1940s, particularly the Sonatas 6—8, are so violent and harsh we would hardly guess they are by the composer of this Sonata and Romeo and Juliet. The Sonata is a work from a temporary social and political thaw that ended abruptly in 1936, just after Prokofiev’s return, with Stalin’s purges of long-time communist party members.
After his badly timed return, Prokofiev quickly realized that life under Stalin was not all that it was promised to be, but he remained in the Soviet Union for the rest of his life–dying on the same day as Stalin. Prokofiev’s relations with the authorities were perhaps a bit smoother than those of Dmitri Shostakovich, but the horrors of the Stalinist purges made a prompt and deep impression on him. Not long after he arrived, the premiere of Prokofiev’s first opera in the Soviet Union, Semyon Kotko, was postponed because the director, Vsevolod Meyerhold, was arrested and shot. It isn’t difficult to imagine how Prokofiev felt about the numerous commands to compose pieces honoring Stalin. Prokofiev did have the last laugh, for his subversive Seventh Symphony, with its famous nihilistic ending, will live long after Stalin, whom it was intended to honor (there are still some orchestral conductors who don’t get the joke, and some even perform the clumsy alternate ending that was forced on Prokofiev by the musical-correctness-authorities).
Performed by Greg Gatien, alto saxophone
John Harmon, piano
Zach Harmon, percussion
John Harmon (b. 1935) has been a regular participant in the Red Lodge Music Festival since 1986. Harmon’s background was in jazz piano, with influences of the great traditionalists such as Bill Evans and Oscar Peterson. Since becoming the Resident Composer for the Red Lodge Music Festival he has been drawn to Native American music and traditions. The 2011 Music Festival received the premiere performance of Vision Quest, a mystical work for flute and piano. Lakota is a new work based on similar themes and motivations. The piece was inspired by the Lakota people of the Sioux Nation. The Sioux comprise three distinct groups, the Eastern Dakota, the Western Dakota, and the Lakota, of which the Lakota are perhaps the best known from art and movies. They were always respected for their pride, an aspect that Harmon emphasizes here in contrast to the other quality that typifies the Lakota, their sensitive gentleness.
The piece features both fully written parts and improvisation.
John Harmon, Divertimento for Solo Cello*
I. Yin and Yang
II. A Shade of Blue
III. Nightmare
IV. Lamentation
V. Appalachian Dance
Performed by David Carter, cello
John Harmon (b. 1935) is the Resident Composer of the Red Lodge Music Festival. Many of his works, both for solo piano and for small ensembles, have been well received here and some of them, including the work on tonight’s performance have received their premiere performance here. In his more than 160 published works Harmon has been strongly influenced by jazz, though in recent years he has turned toward other idioms as outlets for his creative talents.
Harmon’s versatility takes a new turn with Divertimento (2012), written for David Carter as an exploration of the great range of emotional and technical capacities of this sonorous instrument. The five movements all display contrasting expressive moods of the cello. In the composer’s words:
The first movement "Yin and Yang" (a friendly argument) is a "duet" with a question and answer approach.
"Shades of Blue" is, in fact, a blues!
"Nightmare" is a virtuosic chase into terror.
"Lamentation" is just that; an impassioned longing for something (or someone) lost.
"Mountain Music" is a light-hearted conclusion to this diverse collection of musical emotions.
Johann Sebastian Bach, Sonata in E-flat Major, BWV 1031
Allegro moderato
Siciliano
Allegro
ed. Ernst Roth
Performed by Sue Logan, oboe
Cary Lewis, piano
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685—1750) is widely regarded as one of the founders of modern music. That is somewhat misleading, for his methods and attitudes place him among the last of an old tradition–a tradition that emphasized improvised performance and had little concern for composed works that might last for centuries. Bach would have been surprised to learn that his music is still performed more than 260 years after he wrote it down. However, he didn’t always write it down clearly in a way that is easy for us to interpret today. Since Bach’s emphasis was on performance, he often presents us with the same work arranged for several different instruments or ensembles, or even the works of other composers arranged in the “style of Bach.” Sometimes he just gives us the music with little indication what instrumental combinations are intended. The piece here was originally the Flute Sonata, BWV 1031, though Bach would surely have approved of the transcription for another instrument. Like many of the works of Bach and his contemporaries, the piece was never formally published, but simply copied and handed down over several centuries, to the point where some scholars question whether it was actually composed by Bach.
Johannes Brahms, Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann, Op. 23
Performed by Jay and Sandy Mauchley, piano
What could have been on the mind of young Johannes Brahms (1833—1897) that day in September, 1853 when he approached the house of the Schumanns with a letter of introduction from violinist Joseph Joachim (1831—1907)? Of the prelude to the meeting we know almost nothing; it did, however, result in one of the most famous musical friendships in history, an intense relationship that lasted until they were all gone. For Brahms, and for Robert (1810—1856) and Clara (1818—1896) Schumann the meeting resulted in a period of vigorous activity that led to dozens of musical works. It was an especially happy time for Brahms, for he had been young and poor, and hardly knew what it was to have friends; now he had the close friendship and support of one of the most influential musicians in Europe. Though he had written many small works prior to the meeting with the Schumann, Brahms had not yet achieved any sort of popular success. Much later Brahms apparently destroyed most of those works composed before 1853. Success came suddenly, and was largely due to the advocacy of Robert Schumann.
The Variations, or to cite the full title in Brahms’ collected works Variations for Piano Four Hands on a Theme by Schumann was composed sometime within one or two years after that first encounter. Though Brahms is the ostensible composer, it was probably more a product of a synergy between like minds, and Schumann may not have been merely the passive provider of a melodic theme.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Performed by Megan Kenny, violin
Jay Mauchley, piano
As yet another side of the creative genius of Resident Composer, John Harmon (b. 1935), Mountain Flower was composed in 2011 in the form of a classical ABA rondo. Though the musical language is not that of Mozart or Haydn, the form and inventiveness are in the same spirit. The piece is marked by surprises, in its shifting moods and tonalities. It opens with a buoyant theme, which moves playfully to other places until a very quiet section offers a moment for contemplation. The rondo form dictates a return of the opening theme, which is tagged with an exuberant coda that finishes the piece.
This work is dedicated to Megan Kenny.
Ernest Bloch, Prayer from Jewish Life
Performed by Aaron Miller, bass
Cary Lewis, piano
Ernest Bloch (1880—1959) was born in Geneva, Switzerland and began playing the violin at the age of nine. He moved to Brussels to study with violinist and composer Eugene Ysaÿe (1858—1931). At Ysaÿe’s home he came into contact with some of the most important musicians of the time: Caesar Franck (1822—1891), Claude Debussy (1862—1918), Camille Saint-Saëns (1834—1921), and Gabriel Fauré (1845—1924). Though he spent most of his life in the United States–emigrating in 1916–and composed several well-received works honoring his new American home, he is still generally regarded as a Swiss composer. He was never considered a part of the avant-garde movement in America, though he taught several of the leaders of that movement, including George Antheil (1900—1959) and Roger Sessions (1896—1985). If he could be said to belong to a single faction in the music world, his music tends toward classical or neo-classical forms. He became drawn to Jewish folk and liturgical traditions, resulting in some of his finest and best-loved works, such as Schelomo for cello and orchestra, and Avodath Hakodesh (Sacred Service) for baritone, choir, and orchestra.
From Jewish Life and Méditation Hébraïque for cello and piano are another collection of those works that evoke Jewish traditions, set in 1925 for cello and piano. The “Prayer” is a single excerpt from Jewish Life, and displays Bloch’s special affinity for the cello, as an instrument that most closely evokes the human voice in the chants of the liturgy.
Bloch’s unpublished Sonata for Cello and Piano was performed at the 2009 Red Lodge Music Festival.
Jacques Féréol Mazas, Romance and Scherzo from Special Etudes, Op. 36
Arranged and Performed by Bernard McWilliams
Sandy Mauchley, piano
The compositions of Jacques Féréol Mazas (1782—1849) are familiar to many generations of students, particularly students studying stringed instruments. He was noted in his day as a fine violinist; he also conducted the Paris Opera Comique and composed several major works. Mazas is remembered today as an influential teacher, who wrote dozens of pieces suitable for students at all levels. Almost every violin or viola instrumental exercise book includes several of his pieces; numerous transcriptions have also appeared in exercise books for other instruments such as the clarinet or trumpet.
The work from which these pieces are taken was a set of 75 Études mélodiques et progressives, Op 36. The title might be translated in English as 75 Progressive Melodic Studies. The work is in three parts of increasing difficulty, Études spéciales, Études brillantes, and Études d'artistes. The last part, the Études d'artistes, was apparently intended to prepare students for tackling the formidable works of Niccolò Paganini (1782—1840). The Romance and Scherzo originally comprised two separate pieces which were extracted and arranged by Bernard McWilliams, because he felt that many of these student pieces, although not as sublime as the Études for piano of Fryderyk Chopin (1810—1849), are worthy of public performance. The Romance (Etude Number 18, subtitled Andante grazioso) is a slow elegiac piece. On the opposing page of the collected Études is a more lively piece (Number 17, subtitled Allegretto) that Mr. McWilliams has combined into a two-movement work with a piano accompaniment which he now calls Romance and Scherzo.
Thomas Benjamin, Sonata for Tuba and Piano
I. Allegro moderato
II. Recitative: freely and slowly
III. With drive
Performed by Chris Dickey, tuba
Cary Lewis, piano
Thomas Benjamin is a New Englander, born in Bennington, Vermont in 1940. The center of gravity of American music has shifted gradually over the twentieth century, from New England toward numerous centers in the Midwest, the West, California, and places where civilization had just begun to set down roots. But at the turn of the twentieth century almost every American composer, young and old, had ties to New England; most of America’s musical leaders lived and worked in New England. In the second half of the century there were still superb teachers for Thomas Benjamin to learn from, such as Leon Kirchner, Carlos Surinach, Ernst Krenek, Arthur Berger, and Bernard Rogers, at places such as Harvard University and the Eastman School of Music.
Thomas Benjamin has composed notable works for almost every musical medium, including chamber music, concertos, symphonies, oratorios, cantatas, and opera. The Sonata for Tuba and Piano, of 1991, is a welcome addition to the repertoire for that rich-toned, but somewhat neglected instrument.
George Gershwin, Selections from Porgy and Bess
Summertime / A Woman Is A Sometime Thing
Bess, You Is My Woman Now
It Ain't Necessarily So
Arranged by Jascha Heifetz
Performed by Nancy Schechter, violin
Cary Lewis, piano
George Gershwin remains one of America’s favorite composers, a status he shares with Duke Ellington (1889—1974) and Aaron Copland (1900—1990). That might seem an odd juxtaposition to anyone unfamiliar with the American music, but many of our greatest composers have been drawn to both popular and classical music. Even Copland aroused consternation among his avant-garde colleagues in 1936 with El Salon Mexico, an uninhibited celebration of Mexican cabaret music. For Gershwin, born as Jacob Gershvin in the backstreets of Brooklyn in 1898, popular music came first. His attraction to classical music came gradually and was cemented by the worldwide acclaim of his Rhapsody in Blue when it appeared in 1924. Gershwin actually “went back to school” to learn composition and instrumentation techniques so he could compose his next great piano concerto, the Concerto in F, for a full symphony orchestra in 1925. Along the way he encountered several road bumps in France, for is said that Nadia Boulanger (1887—1979) and Maurice Ravel (1875—1937) turned him away, as they were afraid that rigorous classical study would “ruin his jazz-influenced style.”
In his short life Gershwin rose from a composer and arranger of popular songs to become one of America’s “elite” composers of classical music. His opera, Porgy and Bess, first performed in 1935 was an instant success and remains the best known and one of the finest operas of the twentieth century. The music of Porgy and Bess is rooted in popular culture, but the songs have been heard everywhere, and, as in tonight’s performance, arranged for every sort of instrument. Unfortunately for the entire world, Gershwin died relatively young, of a brain tumor in 1937.
A brief mention of the arranger is called for here. Jascha Heifetz (1901—1987) was one of the great violin virtuosos of the twentieth century. He was born in Lithuania but achieved his greatest acclaim, and lived most of his life in America. He was known not only for his virtuosity, but his rich tone and the sensitivity of his playing. In setting these pieces, Heifetz was following the tradition of his predecessors, such as Niccolò Paganini, Ole Bull (1810—1880), Pablo de Sarasate (1844—1908), and Fritz Kreisler (1875—1962) in adapting popular songs and operatic works for the violin. While great composers such as Beethoven and Mozart wrote fine works for violin, the entire violin repertoire would be much thinner without arrangements such as these. Though some of the virtuoso arrangements became showpieces for violin showmanship, the Porgy and Bess tunes are relatively straightforward and unencumbered by ornamentation.
Libby Larson, Jazz Variations for Bassoon
Performed by Carl Rath, bassoon
Libby Larsen (b. 1950) lives and teaches in Minneapolis. She takes much of her inspiration from popular culture, including an opera Frankenstein. Her music has been featured by The Ensemble Singers of the Plymouth Music Series, who are well known from their appearances on the radio show Prairie Home Companion.
Larson composed this piece in 1977, while in graduate school and, in the composer’s words: “beginning to search for my own compositional voice.” Jazz Variations is Larson’s first composition exploring the styles and structures of American jazz and how jazz might find its way into her definition of concert music. Here the emphasis is on the rhythms of jazz, rather than harmonic progressions or the harmonic intricacies of flatted thirds or sixths. Larson says she was influenced mainly by John Coltrane, and his sense of rhythmic flow.
Amy Marcy Cheney Beach, Romance, Op. 23
Performed by Marcia Henry Liebenow, violin
Jean Roberts, piano
The life of Amy Beach (as she is usually known today) would have made a pungent topic for the novels of her contemporary and neighbor Edith Wharton (1862—1937), who explored with acid wit the subjugation of women in the socially stratified world of New York and New England in the late nineteenth century. It is quite likely that the two women might have met, though it is not certain how much of her personal feelings Amy Beach would have been willing to share. But, in a world which seems so distant now, women needed the financial security of an inheritance or prosperous husband. Edith Jones, at the age of 23, married Edward Robbins Wharton, who was 35, and came from a well-to-do Boston family. Edith Wharton had an independent spirit and continued her life of writing and the practice of interior and landscape design without hindrance. Amy Marcy Cheney–born in 1867–was on the way to becoming one of the outstanding pianists of the nineteenth century–worthy of comparison with Fanny Mendelssohn (1805—1847) and Clara Schumann. But, as Rupert Hughes concludes dryly about Amy Cheney, in his delightful summary of the state of American music at the turn of the twentieth century [Famous America Composers, L.C. Page & Co., 1900]: “She is now Mrs. H.H.A. Beach.” Henry Harris Aubrey Beach was a Boston surgeon. He was 24 years older than his 19-year-old bride, and he apparently felt it would be unseemly for a married woman to perform in public. Amy Beach turned from performance to composition and signed her works “Mrs. H.H.A. Beach.” In the 25 years between her marriage and her husband’s death she produced an astonishing number of fine works–of a quality as fine as any American composer of her time. Most of those pieces were small, intimate compositions, but she also wrote several big pieces, including a Symphony in E-minor that has been performed by several major orchestras in recent years. Amy Beach long outlived her husband, dying in 1944.
It would be difficult at this point to resist quoting the entirety of a tribute that appears in the Wikipedia article on Beach:
On July 9, 2000 at Boston’s famous Hatch Shell, the Boston Pops paid tribute to Beach. Her name was added to the granite wall on “The Shell.” It joins 86 other composers such as Bach, Handel, Chopin, Debussy, MacDowell, and Beethoven. Amy Beach is the only woman composer on the granite wall. Beach was inducted into the American Classical Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Cincinnati, Ohio on April 24, 1999. In 1994, the Women’s Heritage Trail Placed a bronze plaque at her Boston Address, and in 1995, Beach’s gravesite at Forest Hills Cemetery was dedicated.
The Romance is typical of Amy Beach’s numerous works for several instruments. Such compositions were generally in a romantic idiom that was fashionable among her American colleagues such as Arthur Foote (1853—1937), George Chadwick (1854—1931), Edward MacDowell (1860—1908), and Horatio Parker (1863—1919). Many of them received their musical training in Germany and show strongly the influence of Brahms and Joachim Raaf (1822—1882), who taught several young American composers. While that influence has often been criticized for being too “Germanic,” the music of Foote, Chadwick, and Beach when heard today definitely begins to show a truly American character–a small but bold step toward the music of Charles Ives and Aaron Copland.
Anne Wilson, Sonata 2000 for Violoncello and Piano
I. Vivace
II. Adagio espressivo
III. Allegro scherzando
Performed by Karen Becker, cello
Jean Roberts, piano
Anne Wilson was born in 1954 and studied music at the University of Cincinnati, where she specialized in organ and keyboard instruments. She is currently the Organist and Director of Music at Forest Hill Presbyterian Church in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and is also on the collaborative piano faculty at Case Western Reserve University. Her composing interests have drawn her to the cello in its various roles, from solo cello to cello quartet and quintet. She claims that she began writing music for cello upon a “bargain” with her daughter’s cello teacher: free lessons in exchange for cello pieces.
This evening’s performance appears outwardly to be a sonata in the classical three-movement form: fast-slow-fast. However listeners might wish to be aware that one of Anne Wilson’s interests is piano jazz.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Edouard Destenay, Tarantella, Op. 16
Performed by Nancy Schechter, violin
Ruth Boden, cello
Jay and Sandy Mauchley, piano
Edouard Destenay is one of the most enigmatic composers, for no one seems to have written down his biography until now; one citation exclaims incredulously that he doesn’t even have an entry in Wikipedia! This may be due largely to the fact that Destenay, like Alexander Borodin (Chemist: 1833—1887) and Charles Ives (Insurance Broker: 1874—1954), pursued music only as a secondary interest. Louis Edouard Bernard Destenay, his father Louis Léon Théodore Destenay, and his brother Charles Ferdinand Marie Albert Destenay were all military officers, stationed for most of their lives in French Algeria. Edouard Destenay was born in Algiers in 1850, shortly after his father had been transferred there from Alsace. Charles arrived five years later. Edouard entered military service at the age of 20, and his brother followed him when he reached the same age. Charles achieved great distinction and was cited for bravery and for his leadership in several campaigns in Africa. Edouard was also promoted rapidly, but he was soon assigned to what we would now call a “desk job.” The father and both sons were elected to the rank of Chevaliers in the Legion of Honor, which suggests a high degree of dedication and ability.
Sometime, in his 30s or early 40s Edouard Destenay undertook music studies, under Claudius Blanc (1854—1900) in Paris. The dates are not known, but the formal musical training must have begun sometime after 1880, for Blanc did not finish his own studies at the Conservatory of Paris until 1878. The circumstances of Destenay’s presence in Paris are also obscure, but military officers between major wars had much spare time, and Edouard’s administrative position must have offered many opportunities to travel: ordering supplies, setting up housing for the troops, making travel arrangements for soldiers and officers, and all the logistic problems that resulted from a rapid increase in the size of the army after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. Charles remained in the military service until after World War I, but Edouard retired from the service and moved to Paris in 1903, where he wrote many fine compositions, mainly for strings, piano, and orchestra. The Tarantella of 1905 is one of the best known.
The Tarantella is a vivid piece, with colorful touches that Destenay must have picked up from his many years in Algiers and the Mediterranean. Though we know little about Destenay’s musical talents, the piece also hints at the pianistic flamboyance of a talented amateur pianist who delighted in showing off. Of musical influences we can only speculate; is there perhaps a touch of Saint-Saëns’ wide-ranging interests in the exotic?
The military history of the Destenay brothers continues through World War I. Edouard was called back to active service. Both brothers received the second-highest award of the Legion of Honor: they were both elected to the rank of Officier of the Legion of Honor in 1916. Up until that time, that distinction was largely reserved for military officers and statesmen. Though not one of the truly great composers, Edouard Destenay became one of the first musicians (after Gioacchino Rossini) to attain the rank of Officier of the Legion of Honor. Edouard died in 1924 and Charles in 1929.
Jean Françaix, Le Colloque des deux perruches
I. Allegrissimo
II. Presto
III. Larghetto
IV. Scherzando
V. Larghetto
VI. Allegro
Performed by Sue Makeever, flute
Leonard Garrison, alto flute
Jean René Désiré Françaix is one of two composers on this year’s program who might celebrate a centennial anniversary (the other is Ingolf Dahl). Françaix was born in Le Mans, France in 1912. He missed his hundredth birthday by only a few years, dying in 1997 in Paris where he had spent most of his life composing and teaching several generations of young musicians. He apparently showed great musical talent when quite young. From Maurice Ravel came this commendation to Françaix’s parents “Among the child's gifts I observe above all the most fruitful an artist can possess, that of curiosity: you must not stifle these precious gifts now or ever, or risk letting this young sensibility wither." Apt words for any young artist.
Perhaps the remainder of this entry might best be filled out by repeating last year’s: He studied with Nadia Boulanger after winning a first prize in piano at the Paris Conservatory. Françaix’s composition style might best be described as “quirky” (a word that has no exact French equivalent); he never outgrew his endless curiosity and inventiveness. One of Françaix’s infamous musical gestures was in L’Apocalypse selon St. Jean, where he used the combination of saxophones, accordion, mandolin, and guitar to represent Hell (I hope the accordion faculty of the Red Lodge Music Festival will not take offense). He also composed a famous piece based on the La Fontaine fairy tale entitled La grenouille qui vent se faire aussi grosse que le boef. (Having received no requests for a translation, I presume that everybody knew it as the old story “The frog who wanted to make himself as large as an ox.” We all know the ending: he exploded.)
And speaking of clever titles, Le Colloque des deux perruches of 1989 does sound like a witty line from Moliere. It can be translated as “The Conversation between Two Parakeets,” but the French word “colloque” can also be understood to mean something like a “scholarly dialogue.” Like many of Françaix’s works for small ensembles, this is a set of droll exchanges between two instruments; one should not look any more deeply for avian programmatic content.
Alec Wilder, Trio for Violin, Cello and Piano
[in five movements]
Performed by June Huang, violin
David Carter, cello
Jean Roberts, piano
Alec Wilder (1907—1980) is an American original, with a career that embraces all forms of music, from popular “juke box tunes” to classical. As a composer he was mostly self-taught. Though he briefly studied composition at the Eastman School of Music, he never completed a degree there. Wilder’s popular music works connected him with some of the most famous people in the popular music world, such as Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee, Tony Bennett, the Mills Brothers, and Mabel Mercer. But by the 1950s he had turned almost entirely to instrumental works, and works for the stage. He wrote eleven operas, some of which, like The Truth About Windmills, have titles that make us wish we could hear them again. His classical compositions usually carry over a touch of the popular and jazz worlds; and frequently flaunt “catchy” titles–quite reminiscent of the works of Jean Françaix.
The Trio of 1976 on this evening’s performance is another illustration of the evolution of the trio form, of which there are three dissimilar examples in this year’s Red Lodge Music Festival. This work clearly has stronger ties to the world of jazz and popular music than to the traditions established by Joseph Haydn, Ludwig van Beethoven, Felix Mendelssohn, Johannes Brahms, and Antonín Dvořák.
Gioacchino Rossini, Duetto in D Major
I. Allegro
II. Andante Molto
III. Allegro
Performed by Aaron Miller, bass
Ruth Boden, cello
Gioacchino (“Jackie”) Rossini was born in 1792 to a family of musicians. They were practical musicians, performing in small theaters and earning extra money in commercial trade. Besides playing the horn in theater orchestras, Gioacchino’s father had a “second job” as an inspector of slaughterhouses. Gioacchino’s training was rather haphazard; his harpsichord teacher played the scales with two fingers, often fell asleep standing up, and supported himself by selling beer. The next apprenticeship was with a blacksmith-music teacher. Nonetheless the young Rossini quickly showed great talent and began working his way up through provincial theaters, playing several instruments and composing. Between 1815 and 1823 he became the trendiest opera composer in Italy. His fame spread, and in 1824 he moved to Paris, which many considered to be the cultural center of Europe. Rossini’s opera career lasted there until 1829, when he effectively retired at the age of 37. He spent the remainder of his life entertaining, cooking, eating, growing marvelously fat, and writing little pieces he called “the sins of my old age.” His last home was in Paris, where he died in 1868.
The Duetto was composed in 1824, apparently shortly after Rossini had arrived in Paris. It is an unassuming piece, perhaps written to please the audiences who expected his operas to provide them with new popular tunes. Of course Rossini was, like Bach, a notorious recycler, so it is likely that some of the melodies we hear in the Duetto could have originated in one or several of his operas. Nonetheless, Rossini was a skillful composer, so while we might hear the same tune in several contexts, it always appears in new clothes, with an entirely new accompaniment.
Felix Mendelssohn, Trio in D Minor, Op. 49
I. Molto allegro agitato
II. Andante con moto tranquille
III. Scherzo: Leggiero e vivace
IV. Finale: Allegro
Performed by Leonard Garrison, flute
Ruth Boden, cello
Cary Lewis, piano
Felix Mendelssohn (1809—1847) composed his first piano trio at the age of eleven. Seldom in the history of music has there been a young composer more bold and adventurous than Mendelssohn. Perhaps this was possible because his family was relatively comfortably established; therefore he did not need to produce works that would enhance the family income, as was always a concern of the young Mozart. Mendelssohn, Schumann, and a long list of now nearly forgotten composers in the first half of the nineteenth century were attracted to the trio as an effective way to use the sonorities of the piano in combinations with other instruments. The modern piano, with its strong iron frame was still a subject of experimentation, but by the 1830s pianos were attaining sufficient power to hold their own in any milieu. Here, in 1839–just 19 years after Mendelssohn’s first efforts in composing a piano trio–the piano is fully integrated into the ensemble, and every instrument is treated as a fully equal partner.
While the Trio was originally set for the conventional ensemble of Piano, Violin, and Cello, Mendelssohn soon had thoughts of arranging the work for Piano, Flute, and Cello. The result was a little-known version published by J.J. Ewer & Co. with a supplementary flute part, and carrying the inscription “This Trio is also Arranged for PIANOFORTE, FLUTE, & VIOLINCELLO, by the Author.” That might seem to imply a straightforward transcription, perhaps suitable for performance by amateurs when a violin is not available. Rather it is a complete reworking of the entire Trio, in ways that emphasize the special qualities of the flute. It became an entirely new piece, and might have merited a separate opus number. The cello has a singing role that exploits its sonority, and the flute provides a bright upper voice; while the role of the piano emphasizes its percussive brilliance. Though this was the age of the great piano virtuosos, Mendelssohn does not use the piano just for its showy effects, but fully integrates its contrasting qualities with the other instruments. Robert Schumann had high praise for Mendelssohn’s Trio in D minor, implying that it may have been the finest yet to appear of that genre.
The first movement is typical Mendelssohn, the archetype of the “Romantic Style.” It is at times bright and at other times dark and stormy, with contrasting bits in both minor and major keys. Mendelssohn revised the trio within the year after it was first performed, apparently to incorporate in this movement more of the brilliant keyboard innovations of Chopin and Liszt. The second movement becomes another of Mendelssohn’s “Songs Without Words,” using the instrumental combination to great expressive effect. In the third, Scherzo, movement we are back to brilliant keyboard writing. The marking Leggiero e vivace suggests that this is a light and witty exchange in which each instrument does his best to “show up” the others. The finale returns definitely to a pensive minor mode. The whole is wrapped up with a coda which has the rather unusual but very appropriate marking forte e dolce: loud and sweet.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Robert Schumann, Märchenerzählungen, Op. 132
I. Lebhaft, nicht zo schnell
II. Lebhaft und sehr markiert
III. Ruhiges Tempo, mit zartem Ausdruck
IV. Lebhaft, sehr markiert
Performed by Gary Behm, clarinet
Bernard McWilliams, viola
Cary Lewis, piano
Robert Schumann (1810—1856) loved and experimented with all forms of music, from massive symphonies to simple little pieces for children. One point on which he might have disagreed with his close friend, Johannes Brahms, was in Brahms‘ professed concern only for the most “serious” music. It is nice to know that among Brahms “orphans” without opus numbers is a set of 14 Children’s Folksongs; were those composed at the urging of Schumann?
Märchenerzählungen is another of those compositions from around the time of Schumann and Brahms’ first meeting (probably 1853). From the title, “Fairy Tales,” this might appear to be another cheerful piece inspired by children’s songs. But these are rather scary fairy tales. The use of the clarinet and viola give this work a somewhat dark sound, suggesting that Schumann had somehow assimilated Brahms’ style to his own–a counterpart to Brahms’ tribute to Schumann in the Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann. The individual titles have a charm of their own, though to those whose German is a bit rusty, they may need a translation into a rather dull English:
Lively, but not too fast
Lively, and very distinct
Restful tempo, with tender expression
Lively, very distinct
Johannes Brahms, Piano Trio No. 3 in C minor, Op. 101
I. Allegro energico
II. Presto non assai
III. Andante grazioso
IV. Allegro molto
Performed by Marcia Henry Liebenow, violin
Karen Becker, cello
Jay Mauchley, piano
From its inception the trio based on a keyboard instrument presented a challenge to composers such as Joseph Haydn (1832—1809) and Ludwig van Beethoven (1770—1827). How were three dissimilar instruments to be integrated into a unified ensemble? That problem was easily solved (easily that is, for Haydn and Beethoven) for the string quartet, where there are four instruments that produce similar sounds. Because of that basic imbalance some composers simply treated the trio as a lighter form, in contrast with the gravity of larger chamber pieces. It was left to Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Brahms to elevate the piano trio to a status fully equal to the quartets and quintets. Johannes Brahms (1833—1897) composed four piano trios, one of which was published posthumously, in addition to the Clarinet Trio and the wonderful Horn Trio that was heard at the 2011 Red Lodge Music Festival. The third piano trio is indeed a weighty and rather nervous work that perhaps anticipates the monumental piano trio of Dmitri Shostakovich (also heard in 2011). This trio was composed in Brahms’ later years, during the intensely productive summer of 1886. Among its temporal neighbors are some of the last grand orchestral works such as the Symphony No. 4 in E minor and the Double Concerto in A minor for Violin, Cello and Orchestra. This trio stands out among Brahms’ chamber works as one of the most economical and tightly constructed. For Brahms every note was important, seldom more so than here. While during this period Brahms had become an enthusiastic admirer of Wagner (a sentiment that was not reciprocated), this music shows none of the sprawling, long-winded tendencies to which Wagner was often subject.
The first movement is intense and often furious, with an emphasis on the contrapuntal forces of three dissimilar instruments, at perhaps the expense of the rhythmic drive. The second movement seems to be more firmly set in rhythmic space, but it never pretends to the strengths of the first; rather it is so economical that we hardly notice its passing. With the third movement we are again in a grand Brahmsian landscape, but with an underlying sense of something not quite right–something uneasy and unsteady. This is largely because Brahms employs an effective 7/4 meter, but does not write it explicitly as such; instead he alternates between measures of 3 and 4 beats. Some commentators believe this is a hint of the Hungarian rhythms that had captured his imagination about this time (several of Brahms’ Hungarian Dances were performed at the 2011 Red Lodge Music Festival). Brahms may have felt a bit reticent about committing the outrage of actually setting the piece in 7/4, which would have seemed perfectly natural to the avant-garde Russians a few years later. Though Brahms usually assumed a grumpy, conservative manner, when confronted with the new Wagner-infused composers such as Gustav Mahler (1860—1911) and Ferruccio Busoni (1866—1924), he was always willing to learn something new.
The premiere performance, on December 20, 1886, featured an impressive lineup: Brahms at the piano, Joseph Joachim on violin, and David Popper (1843—1913), whose music was heard at the 2011 Music Festival, on the cello. How often do we hear two important composers and one of the greatest violinists of his day on a single stage?
Ingolf Dahl, Duettino Concertante
I. Alla marcia
II. Arioso accompagnato
III. Fughetta
IV. Finale: Presto
Performed by Leonard Garrison, flute
Mary Wells, percussion
The name by which we know him may obscure the fact that Ingolf Dahl was one of the distinguished group of musical refugees of Jewish descent who fled Nazi Germany in the 1930s. He joined the Jewish expatriate community in Los Angeles, which included both countless performers and composers such as Arnold Schoenberg (1874—1961), Igor Stravinsky (1882—1971), Ernst Toch (1887—1964), and Darius Milhaud (1892—1974).
Dahl was born 100 years ago, in 1912, and originally named Walter Ingolf Marcus; which he changed when he moved to the United States. He thereafter used the surname of his Swedish mother. For reasons best known to him he encouraged the misconception that he was actually of Swedish origin. In Europe he had risen to the rank of Assistant Conductor of the Zurich Opera, and was influential in promoting the works of young twentieth century composers. In America he continued to help other composers, particularly Schoenberg and Stravinsky. Composition was only a small part of his extremely broad musical career. He has been cited as a “solo pianist, keyboard performer, accompanist, conductor, coach, composer, and critic.” From 1945 to the end of his life in 1966 his principal occupation was as a teacher at the University of Southern California. Like other musicians in California, Dahl was often involved with the entertainment industry and worked with Edgar Bergen, comedian Gracie Fields, Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, and Victor Borge. Dahl’s career and breadth of interests are very much like those of Ernest Toch. They both became deeply interested in the musical traditions of their adopted country. One of Dahl’s most well-known works is his Quodlibet on American Folktunes: The Fancy Blue Devil's Breakdown–a wild ride through the various forms of American folk music.
The Duettino Concertante of 1966 is one of Dahl’s witty little chamber pieces, reminiscent of the lively but unpretentious music of Milhaud and Toch. Dahl and the other two composers were at their best when writing effervescent music for unusual combinations. There must have been many exchanges of ideas among the little group of expatriates in Los Angeles.
Ernst von Dohnányi, Piano Quintet in C minor, Op. 1
I. Allegro
II. Scherzo
III. Adagio, quasi andante
IV. Allegro animato
Performed by Randy Tracy, violin
Nancy Schechter, violin
Bernard McWilliams, viola
David Carter, cello
Cary Lewis, piano
Until the twentieth century, Hungary was generally regarded as a land of country musicians, who played wild music in strange keys and meters. Ernst von Dohnányi (Dohnányi Ernö in his native language) was one of the pioneers who established Hungarian classical music as the equal of any country. He was born in 1877, a few years before Zoltán Kodály and Béla Bartók, but he became established more quickly in the German music world by his impressive piano playing and his acquaintance with Johannes Brahms and Joseph Joachim. Though he was a pioneer, Dohnányi’s music remained strongly tied to its Germanic roots. But his greatest contribution to the cause of Hungarian music was his return to his home–unlike several previous generations–and the encouragement of others to stay and find their Hungarian roots. It was left to Kodály, Bartók, and the younger composers to formulate a style that is recognized today as truly Hungarian. Dohnányi’s music shows clearly the influence of Brahms, though he was not above creating a delicious parody of Brahms’s music in one of his most popular work, the Variations on a Nursery Theme. But he probably heard no objections because it’s all very gentle, and he gets in a little jab at almost everybody. Moreover, the most outrageous parody is reserved for Gustav Mahler: a long pretentious introduction that is just too ponderous for the subject.
After working against the Nazis in World War II Dohnányi was dismayed to be attacked by the new Communist government, whereupon he fled to America. There he became interested in American folk music, and made some recordings on the new LP records. He died in New York in 1960. To hear one of the last of the great German-trained piano virtuosos, search for the recording of Dohnányi’s performance of the Variations on a Nursery Theme.
The best known of Dohnányi’s chamber works include the piano. The Piano Quintet in C minor of 1895 is one of the finest. The success of this work is largely due to the perfect integration of the piano, which contributes to the texture rather than virtuoso displays. This is an early work, so its style is still very much linked to Brahms, but the themes and inspiration are very much Dohnányi’s own. Dohnányi and Gabriel Fauré were the last guardians of the romantic, melodic tradition established by Schumann and Brahms–a tradition that might be said to have died with Fauré in 1924.
The Quintet opens in a Brahmsian mood, with the piano singing a broad melody, which is taken up and expanded by the strings. The harmonies are Brahmsian, but the wild Hungarian melodies and meters are there just below the surface. This underappreciated work is full of rich melodies, and at times the warm sonority of the music for the strings approaches that of Fauré's late music. The Scherzo begins with a slightly jerky rhythm–reminiscent of Brahms’ treatment of Hungarian music. In the trio of the Scherzo we return to one of those drawn-out melodies that had been almost a trademark of Brahms. The Adagio is marked “quasi andante” which is probably a suggestion that the tempo should be relaxed, at a pace appropriate for the moment. This is a rather dark melody such as Brahms might have composed, marked by the heavy tones of the viola and cello. The Finale is by turns aggressive and exuberant. The rhythms are not the rhythms of a dance, but have a rather jerky feel as the meter shifts between five and six beats per measure. It all comes to a thumping close as everybody agrees on a 6/4 meter.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Arthur Frackenpohl, Brass Quintet
I. March
II. Blues
III. Rondo
Performed by Mark Fenderson and Gerald Makeever, trumpet
William Scharnberg, horn
Loren Marsteller, trombone
Chris Dickey, tuba
Arthur Frackenpohl was born in New Jersey in 1924 and received his musical education in the eastern United States and Canada. He studied with Darius Milhaud and Nadia Boulanger. He has created over 400 instrumental and vocal compositions and is best known for his numerous arrangements and compositions for the Canadian Brass ensemble. His arrangements of the works of Bach and the Pachelbel Canon have become standard repertory items for that ensemble.
Frackenpohl joined this commentator’s list of composers possessing a fine sense of wit and irony with his cantata for female voices based on a poem by Jean Pearson, titled The Natural Superiority of Men.
Frackenpohl has composed several quintets for brass instruments. This piece appears in the catalogs without a number, apparently because when he composed in 1966 he did not expect to create another. It was so successful that it was followed by five numbered quintets, plus several works for similar ensembles that were not labeled as quintets (and perhaps more in the works?). So far, the unnumbered Quintet appears to the most popular, followed closely by Numbers 2 and 5.
Antonín Dvořák, Terzetto in C Major, Op. 74
I. Intraduzione: Allegro ma non troppo
II. Larghetto
III. Scherzo
IV. Tema con variation
Performed by June Huang and Lauren Griffin, violin
Jennifer Smith, viola
Antonín Dvořák was born in 1841 near Prague. This made him a Czech, rather than a Moravian or Slovak. Such distinctions did not matter to the Austro-Hungarian Empire which regarded everybody as citizens of the Empire, and tried to erase all distinctions between ethnic groups. Those distinctions have become very important again today. They mattered very much to Dvořák, who was one of the founders of what is recognized today as uniquely Czech music–heard in the music of Bedřich Smetana (1824—1884), Leoš Janáček, Joseph Suk (1874—1935), and Bohuslav Martinů (1890—1959). Unlike many others in America and Hungary, he did not go to Germany to study music, but learned much of his craft at home. Dvořák’s music was Czech from the very beginning. And he learned it well enough to win praise and support from Brahms and to write a set of truly grand symphonies and much wonderful chamber music. In those works the technique is still Germanic, but the themes, moods, and inflections are of another land: a land where even today people sing, dance, and dress differently.
During his lifetime, this man from the wild lands of eastern Europe became an internationally famed composer. His music was especially well received in England and in America, where he spent three years. Perhaps this recognition was partly due to a universal desire to hear something more exotic than the standard German repertoire. It was also a reflection of a yearning for distinctive national music in countries on the fringes of the German-dominated music world. A few musicians in America such as the young Charles Ives were beginning to wonder why we couldn’t hear more of our own music. Yet, even at Dvořák’s death in 1904, English music was still dominated by the thoroughly Germanic composers such as Edward Elgar (1857—1934) and Charles Villiers Stanford (1854—1924); and in America Rupert Hughes’ report on the state of American music found few composers who hadn’t been trained in Germany, apart from the irrepressible John Philip Sousa (1859—1932).
The Terzetto was composed in 1887. Staying in a spare room at Dvořák’s home was a chemistry student and amateur violinist, Josef Kruis, who had a close friend Jan Pelikán, a violinist in the Prague National Theater. Dvořák offered to compose a little piece for them to play at their practice sessions, and he suggested that he could write in a viola part, on which he would accompany them. Alas, the piece was a bit too difficult, so Dvořák wrote another, easier piece which eventually became the Four Romantic Pieces for Violin and Piano, Op. 75b. But Dvořák now had a perfectly good composition that needed performing, so he polished up the first work and published it as the Terzetto.
As might be expected from the circumstances, the Terzetto is a charming, lyrical piece. But it contains some of Dvořák’s finest music making. The first movement is a graceful exchange between two violins, with the viola filling in the function of the bass. The Larghetto is a well worked out study in harmony–particularly for a piece that uses three treble instruments. The Scherzo provides some rhythmic pleasure, before launching into the harmonic and virtuosic intricacies of the finale. Probably not a piece to hand to a hapless amateur, but a work far finer than might have been expected.
I. Allegro vivace
II. Divertissement
III. Finale
Performed by Sue Makeever, flute
Sue Logan, oboe
Gary Behm, clarinet
Dan Phillips, horn
Carl Rath, bassoon
Cary Lewis, piano
Francis Jean Marcel Poulenc (1899—1963) was always a bit of a maverick, who loved doing things that were not quite shocking, but were slightly unsettling to old conservatives. It starts with his name, which he pronounced by his own rules: “Poulenc” is pronounced–contrary to usual French practice–to rhyme with “thank” or “shank.” The first point on which he annoyed his colleagues was a fondness for popular music and dance-hall tunes. A word which best describes his approach to music is “insouciant.” He just spun out music that sounds airy and carefree, even when composing something that was expected to be solemn and weighty, such as the Stabat Mater of 1950 and the Gloria of 1959. While he composed many light pieces for small ensembles, after 1938 Poulenc’s music turned more and more to religious works and serious works for the stage; but even then he could not resist occasionally letting his angels behave rather like the obstreperous ones we see on the walls and pillars of French Cathedrals.
The Sextet is one of Poulenc’s best known works for small ensembles. It was begun in 1932 and published in its charming final form in 1939.
Dmitri Shostakovich, Piano Quintet in G Minor, Op. 57
I. Preludio: Lento
II. Fugue: Adagio
III. Scherzo: Allegretto
IV. Intermezzo: Lento
V. Finale: Allegretto
Performed by Marcia Henry Liebenow and Megan Kenny, violin
Jennifer Smith, viola
Karen Becker, cello
Jay Mauchley, piano
The Piano Quintet in G minor was written in 1940 when Dmitri Shostakovich (1906—1975) appeared to be again in favor with the Soviet authorities. Though he had incurred the “commissars’” wrath in 1930 with his satirical opera The Nose, and again in 1936 with Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, Shostakovich had received the Stalin Prize in 1940 and again in 1941, largely because of the success of his great Fifth Symphony. It may not have hurt his cause that someone characterized the Fifth as “the creative reply of a Soviet artist to justified criticism.” At this time the Russian people were being called to exert themselves to respond patriotically to the threat of war. His star would fall again, but for a while Shostakovich was “riding high.” His confidence was shattered, however, and Shostakovich’s works at this time tend to look back and emphasize classical forms and techniques–perhaps as a way to stifle that urge to cry out his deeper feelings.
Shostakovich always held two composers in special esteem: Johann Sebastian Bach and Gustav Mahler. During the 1930s and 1940s Shostakovich turned frequently toward the formalism of Bach, the first of these polar opposites. The Twenty-Four Preludes, Op 34 (1932) and the Twenty-Four Preludes and Fugues, Op 87 (1951) are among the finest tributes to the music of Bach ever created. Shostakovich’s music of the that time, including especially the Piano Quintet, often features forms familiar to Bach, such as Prelude and Fugue. The Quintet was written for the Beethoven String Quartet, at a rare moment when it was safe to approach Shostakovich for a new work.
The first movements of the Piano Quintet, have, indeed, the form of a prelude and fugue. The Scherzo offers a bit of the “sassy” spirit for which we now know Shostakovich. With the Intermezzo we are back on Bach’s territory, with a melody weaving its way around a walking bass. The Finale is unusually optimistic for Shostakovich, particularly when compared with the bleak Trio in E Minor (performed at the 2011 Red Lodge Music Festival), which followed four years later, and his last works, particularly the last three symphonies (No. 13 in 1962, No. 14. In 1969, and No. 15 in 1971).
Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, “Waltz of the Flowers” from The Nutcracker, Op. 71
A Light Diversion to Conclude the Chamber Music Series
Performed by Jay and Sandy Mauchley, Cary Lewis and Jean Roberts, two pianos, eight hands
Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) is often thought of as the quintessential Russian composer, and his music is so Russian. Oh, the ironies of popularity and the opinions of posterity, for Tchaikovsky thought of himself, and was regarded by many of his contemporaries, as a European composer, who had shaken off the heavy traditions of Old Russia. He traveled widely, which was rather unusual for a Russian. He composed many works that definitely leaned toward French and German styles. However, for us and for the Russians, he remains the most popular Russian composer. And there are none of his works more popular than that grand balletic bon-bon, The Nutcracker.
Unfortunately it was beyond the scope of the Red Lodge Music Festival to present the entire ballet and orchestral score of The Nutcracker. So we will have to content ourselves with the frothiest, most effervescent excerpt from that work. But to those who are on a low-carbohydrate diet, even this piece contains more than the weekly recommended dose of calories. But, if you do wish to pig out, the month of December features about 10,000 performances of the ballet all over the world. The Bolshoi and Mariinsky Theater productions are among the grandest, though the San Francisco Ballet is closer to home and their production is almost as fattening.