TMSO Special 2021 (1/13) │ Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra

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Artists

Eliahu INBAL, Conductor

Program

Wagner: Prelude and Liebestod from "Tristan und Isolde"

Program Notes
Bruckner: Symphony No.3 in D minor, WAB103, “Wagner” (Nowak:1873 version)

Program Notes

Richard Wagner: Born in Leipzig, May 22, 1813; died in Venice, February 13, 1883

In 1857, Wagner interrupted work on his colossal operatic tetralogy Der Ring des Nibelungen to tackle a new enterprise – something short, simple and accessible to the public, or such were the original intentions. Wagner also hoped this new work for the stage would be a quick source of badly needed funds. Tristan und Isolde turned out to be none of these. Its composition occupied Wagner for two years, and it waited for its premiere until 1865 in Munich, six years after completion. It had turned into one of the longest, most complex, most difficult and, to mid-nineteenth century audiences accustomed to the pleasantries of Meyerbeer and Rossini, most incomprehensible works in the history of opera.

Tristan und Isolde also became one of the most revolutionary musical scores ever created. Among the many reasons for this, those that come immediately to mind include its highly advanced chromatic harmony, its almost exclusive portrayal of psychological states rather than external events, and the sheer intensity of the emotions depicted in the music. The love Tristan and Isolde feel for each other is so painfully intense, so all-consuming, boundless and unbearable, that the only release is found in death. The Prelude and Liebestod (Love-death) constitute the opening and closing pages of the opera. As it happens, they also embrace the psychological synthesis of the four-hour work, and Wagner himself sanctioned their linkage for use as a concert number.

In a program note for the Prelude, Wagner explained its meaning as follows: “In one long succession of linked phrases, [the composer has] let that insatiable longing swell forth from the first, timid avowal to … the most powerful effort to find the breach that will open out the path into the sea of loveʼs endless delight.”

The fulfillment of this agonizing, aching love is achieved in the Liebestod. Isolde, lost to reality, imagines a glow emanating from the lifeless body of her beloved Tristan, whom she holds in her arms while singing her great paean of love. Riding the waves of sumptuous orchestral sound, Isoldeʼs voice soars ever higher and more ecstatically as she approaches total spiritual union with Tristan in a world where Death and Love are one. The terrible longing is over. Isolde collapses in a state of rapturous transfiguration, while the orchestra puts the final seal of benediction on the lovers. Such is the richness of Wagnerʼs orchestration that the Liebestod can be performed without soprano, yet with no loss of musical substance.
Program notes by Robert Markow

Robert Markow's musical career began as a horn player in the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. He now writes program notes for orchestras and concert organizations in the USA, Canada, and several countries in Asia. As a journalist he covers the music scenes across North America, Europe, and Asian countries, especially Japan. At Montreal's McGill University he lectured on music for over 25 years.

Ⅰ Gemäßigt, misterioso
Ⅱ Adagio: Feierlich
Ⅲ Scherzo: Ziemlich schnell
Ⅳ Finale: Allegro

Anton Bruckner: Born in Ansfelden, Austria, September 4, 1824; died in Vienna, October 11, 1896

The shadow of Beethoven and his canon of symphonies, especially the Ninth, loomed large over the nineteenth century. Two of Dvořák's nine symphonies are in the key of D minor (the key of Beethovenʼs Ninth), and no fewer than three of Brucknerʼs symphonies are in this key. The references to Beethoven in the symphony we hear at this TMSO concert are too obvious to overlook: the mysterious opening based on the D minor chord, which slowly takes shape as out of the void; the vast scale and scope of the symphony (its first movement may well be the longest first movement written up to that point); the awe-inspiring climaxes; and other points of reference.

But this is not the “Beethoven Symphony”; it is the “Wagner Symphony,” and the name comes from Bruckner himself. The story of how this came about is both touching and true. Bruckner had been a passionate devotee of Wagner since 1863 when he had heard Tannhäuser. In 1873, with his Second Symphony and the nearly-completed Third under his arm, Bruckner presented himself before the Master in Bayreuth, begging permission to dedicate one or the other symphony to Him. Wagner demurred over the Second, but he found much to admire (especially the opening trumpet call) in the Third. The fact that the Third incorporated several quotations from Die Walküre, Die Meistersinger and Tristan und Isolde surely helped to dispose Wagner toward this symphony (all but one of these quotations were later expunged).

Bruckner was 48 when he produced his Third Symphony (actually the fifth – there also exist a “study symphony” in F minor from 1863 and a Symphony “No. 0” in D minor). After completing the Third in 1873, he revised it the following year, then again more substantially in 1876-77, and still again in 1888-1889. Most frequently performed and recorded today is the 1888-1889 version, but Eliahu Inbal is conducting the rarely-heard original 1873 score, which is considerably longer (it lasts about seventy minutes). The first performance of the original score was given by the Dresden Staatskapelle only on December 1, 1946 in the Kurhaus Bühlau, conducted by Joseph Keilberth, and the first recording waited until Eliahu Inbal conducted it in 1982.

For a work that impresses with its colossal power and cathedral-like blocks of sound, Brucknerʼs Third Symphony is scored for surprisingly modest forces. There is no piccolo, no English horn, no harp, not even a tuba. The only percussion is timpani. Except for an extra pair of horns and a third trumpet (and of course a larger string section), it might be the orchestra for Mozartʼs Magic Flute or Don Giovanni. But no one before 1873 had drawn such monumental, awesome sounds from an orchestra in a purely symphonic work – not Mozart, not Beethoven, not Berlioz, not even Bruckner himself. (Wagner certainly had in his operas, but not in symphonies.)

Like all Bruckner symphonies, the Third opens quietly in a mood of hushed mystery and expectancy. Over an ostinato pattern in the strings, the solo trumpet presents the initial idea of the first theme group. The music grows steadily, inexorably to a series of mighty outbursts for full orchestra interspersed with tenderly lyrical responses and pregnant pauses. The sense of breadth is astonishing. Eventually we hear the second subject, a radiant, flowing double theme for second violins and violas, each section playing a separate strand of the composite whole. The music seems to expand into space. Brucknerʼs favorite rhythmic motif − the interplay of duplets and triplets − comes to the fore here. There is a third subject consisting of varied repetitions of a four-note motif for unison brass.

In the Adagio movement there are again three subjects. The movement rises through successive episodes to its highest peak, though Bruckner has obviously not yet mastered the art of how to descend from the empyrean heights to which he brings his listeners. Biographer Gabriel Engel captures the mood of this movement when he observes that the music “reflects the decades which Bruckner spent in the baroque splendor of ancient cathedral surroundings. More overwhelming with each symphony grows this air of grandeur, suggestive of the mighty, domelike structures of the Houses of God which nurtured and mirrored Brucknerʼs lofty spiritual aspiration.”

The third movement is the typical Brucknerian scherzo derived from powerful rhythmic impulses and hurtling grimly towards its final cadence. Along the way, Bruckner does find room for music in a lighter vein, and the central Trio is a positively sunny episode in the spirit of a Ländler (an easy-flowing Austrian country dance, similar to the waltz) or folksong.

The complex finale is not without its structural problems, yet one cannot but be impressed by the colossal musical building blocks Bruckner assembles. At several points in the movement we hear episodes featuring an almost obsessive preoccupation with syncopation, which causes half the orchestra to sound like it is slightly behind. An apotheosis based on the symphonyʼs opening trumpet theme brings the symphony to a splendiferous conclusion.
Program notes by Robert Markow

Robert Markow's musical career began as a horn player in the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. He now writes program notes for orchestras and concert organizations in the USA, Canada, and several countries in Asia. As a journalist he covers the music scenes across North America, Europe, and Asian countries, especially Japan. At Montreal's McGill University he lectured on music for over 25 years.

TMSO Special 2021 (1/13)

Artists

Program

Movies

Baby sitting Service

TMSO Special 2021 (1/13)

Artists

Eliahu INBAL (Conductor Laureate)

Program

Movies

Baby sitting Service

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