22 October 2006
The 22nd Season Opener
Beethoven & Brahms String Quintets
Dov Scheindlin & David Miller, violas
Nina Lee, ’cello
James Roe, Artistic Director
William A. Simon, President
Albert Fuller, Founder
CHAMBER MUSIC • INSIGHTFUL PROGRAMS • PERIOD INSTRUMENTS • INTIMATE SETTING
For its generous support of our 82nd Symposium,
The Helicon Foundation is deeply grateful to The Alice Tully Foundation.
We thank The Kosciuszko Foundation for their hospitality.
•
We wish to express our gratitude to Helicon’s Members
whose support makes possible the events of our twenty-second season:
Directors Circle
Joan K. Easton
Susan Zolla-Pazner, Ph.D. & Sherman Pazner, M.D.
Sponsoring Members
V. Edward Dent
Karen McLaughlin & Mark Schubin
Ryo Toyonaga & Alvin Friedman-Kien
Lisa & Paul Welch
Sustaining Members
Yukiko & Jim Gatheral
Franklin Heller & Christian Steiner
David S. Moyer
The Irwin Scherzer Foundation
Ann & Joe Scozzafava
Lavinia & William Simon
Marica & Jan Vilcek
Joanne Witty & Eugene Keilin
Contributing Members
Patty Otis Abel & Dennis R. Reiff
Leslie Armstrong
Barbara & Paul Krieger,
Doreen Lindsay & Andrew Burt
Peter C. Lombardo, M.D.
Arthur Richenthal
Laura Schoen & Robert Kaufman
Arlene & Bruce Simon
Members
Anonymous (1)
Cheryl Milone Bab
Cindy Bolt & Edmond V. Karam
Nancy Cardozo
Pamela Drexel
Patricia & Michael Fast
Nancy Hall & Robert Schwartzman
Rosanna & Corwith Hansen
Timothy B. Harwood
Hideko Kamino, M.D. & Howard Ratech, M.D.
Sarah O.H. Johnson
Gregory Keilin
Catherine Keller & Jason Starr
David Longmire
Lena Persson & Hervé Pierre
Gil Quito
Carol & Gerard Silverman
Jane Taylor & Guy Renvoize
Contributors
Rowan Dordick & Jennifer Hirschowitz in Honor of William A. Simon
Don Lebowitz, Esq.
Program Notes by James Roe
One of twelve children, Hahn was born in Venezuela to a Catholic mother and a Jewish businessman. To escape growing political unrest, the family left South America for Paris in 1877. By 1893, the year the two young men met, Hahn had already distinguished himself as a composer and performer. With sympathetic tastes and dispositions, the two quickly fell in love. Considering the time in which they lived, Proust and Hahn conducted their relationship with uncommon conspicuousness. (Oscar Wilde’s trial for “gross indecency” began in 1895.) Their romance lasted several years, but the two artists remained life-long friends.
Though Hahn wrote music in every genre including, opera and ballet, his gifts shine brightest in smaller forms. His songs are exquisite, and he often sang them at parties accompanying himself at the piano. He also produced a large body of salon music for solo piano, which displays his characteristic wit and sophisticated charm. To open our program, we will intersperse readings of Proust’s poems between his friend’s Premières valses pour piano.
In Swann’s Way, Book One of “In Search of Lost Time,” Proust introduces a fictive composer named Vinteuil, whose presence and music recur throughout the multi-volume work. The cyclic structure of Proust’s novel is mirrored in a composition by Vinteuil, a Sonata for Violin and Piano. Swann is particularly taken by this music, especially a “little phrase” that reappears throughout the piece and subsequently comes to symbolize the love he shared with Odette. “The national anthem of our love,” they called it. Through Swann’s evolving experience of this piece, Proust traces the development of his characters’ relations while illuminating complex connections between music, emotion, and memory. Swann’s reflections on the Vinteuil Sonata are among the most eloquent descriptions of musical experience in literature. Richard Howard will read his own translation of Swann’s first encounter with the sonata and the effect of its “little phrase.”
That this imaginary sonata must be based on an actual piece has spawned nearly a century of speculation. Swann describes a work so sublime, that César Franck’s great Sonata in A Major is often suggested as the model. Another candidate is the First Violin Sonata of Gabriel Fauré, a composer Proust knew and admired. (Helicon has presented both pieces, the Franck on our 38th Symposium, 21 April 1996, with Pedja Muzijevic and Mark Steinberg, and the Fauré on our 73rd, 13 March 2005, with Pedja and Jennifer Frautschi.) Reynaldo Hahn’s diaries reveal that the “little phrase” was based on the recurring melody in Camille Saint-Saëns’ Violin Sonata in D Minor, which closes the first half of this program.
Proust attended concerts by the celebrated Parisian string quartet, Quatuor Poulet, and became acquainted with their violist, Amable Massis. During a post-concert conversation, Proust proposed a private performance in his home. The musicians agreed in principle, though no specific plans were made. Some days later, Proust made a surprise visit to the first violinist’s apartment around 11:00 P.M., consumed by the desire to hear a string quartet of César Franck that very night! The violinist followed Proust to a waiting car where he was offered a bowl of mashed potatoes. They then drove around Paris collecting the other quartet members. By the time the performance began, it was nearly one in the morning. Upon finishing the demanding hour-long work, Proust sat in silence a long time. He then asked to hear the whole work again from the beginning.
Massis later remarked on the novelist’s attention during their performance, “Proust was a marvelous listener, straightforward, direct, a man who drank in music without raising any questions.” One can only imagine the heightened experience of such intimate music making and the spiritual nourishment it provided the musicians and their solitary, marvelous listener.
A composer’s most direct tool for word painting is melodic shape. Words are set to melody in two ways, syllabic and melismatic. Syllabic is the most common. With one note per syllable of text, it emphasizes clarity and flow. A melisma is more than one note sung on a single syllable. This expressive device highlights certain words and enhances their emotional impact. A fine example of syllabic word painting from this Symposium comes in the second of Vaughan Williams’ Blake Songs, “A Poison Tree.” Blake’s poem, from his “Songs of Experience,” is a chilling depiction of the progression of anger to fatal revenge. In the last line, the speaker sees his foe dead on the ground, poisoned by the fruit of enmity. “In the morning glad I see, my foe outstretched beneath the tree.” Vaughan Williams sets this line syllabically, each word descending step-by-step to the song’s final note, a long unaccompanied “D.” This unadorned, outstretched note represents the final resting place of the speaker’s victim. (Could the note “D” also denote the word “death”?) Melismatic text setting is a special expressive choice. When a composer writes a melisma on a word, the clarity of that word can be partly or even greatly obscured as the shape of the melody takes prominence over the natural flow of the text. A fine composer will use melismas in important moments where the expressive meaning of a word overwhelms its grammatical or rhythmic place in the poem. There is an irresistible example from Handel’s “Messiah” in the chorus “All We Like Sheep.” The opening line, “All we like sheep, have gone astray,” is set syllabically until the word, “astray.” On its second syllable, Handel writes a long undulating melisma. The melody practically goes haywire, jumping and leaping all about. Quite literally, it goes astray. Melismas offer performers great opportunity for personal expression. In his song “Not All My Torments,” Purcell writes exquisitely complex melismas to color key words such as “torments,” “pity,” and “sorrows.” The two final bars of the song are given over to a weeping melisma on the words, “I despair.” Listen for the way our musicians respond to passages such as these
I cannot leave the topic of word painting without mentioning one of my favorite examples in all of music, which happens to be on this program. It comes in Purcell’s sublime song, “Music for a While.” Referencing the story of Orpheus, the text tells of music’s power to calm a troubled mind, if only temporarily. The song's second section describes music’s affect on one of the mythological Furies, Alecto. This Alecto is a singularly unpleasant girl. Armed with a whip, she has snakes for hair, bat wings, a dog’s head and blood dripping from her eyes. Yet music has the power to calm even this beastly creature, causing “the snakes to drop from her head and the whip from out her hands.” In his setting, Purcell repeats the word “drop” nine times, each one iterated with a single short note sung on the weak half of the beat. The effect is onomatopoetic word painting, and is immensely charming.
The songs featured in this Symposium are rich in these devices and many others. Keep your ears open. Let your imagination be stimulated by the words, the music, and the performers’ interpretations to heighten your experience of these masterpieces of art song written in our shared language.