Promenade Concert

【Sold Out】Promenade Concert No.406

This concert is over. Date: Sun. 11. February 2024 14:00 (13:00)

Venue: Suntory Hall Venue Info Seat

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Eliahu INBAL, Conductor

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Program

Brahms: Akademische Festouvertüre, op.80

Program Notes
Beethoven: Symphony No.8 in F major, op.93

Program Notes
Dvořák: Symphony No.8 in G major, op.88

Program Notes

Brahms: Academic Festival Overture, op. 80

Johannes Brahms: Born in Hamburg, May 7, 1833; died in Vienna, April 3, 1897

　Brahms was not a man to stand on ceremony. In 1876, at the relatively young age of 43, he was honored by Cambridge University with the offer of an honorary Doctorate, but he couldnʼt manage the journey to England so the offer was withdrawn. Three years later, another academic institution, the University of Breslau, conferred upon him in absentia the same degree, with the official parchment describing him as artis musicae severioris in Germania nunc princeps (the leader in Germany today of music in the more serious vein). Brahmsʼs acknowledgement took the form of a postcard to his conductor friend at the university, Bernhard Scholz, asking him to thank the proper authorities on his behalf. Scholz had to advise the composer that a major work was expected of him: “a symphony, or at least a festive song.” Brahms grudgingly complied, but it was nearly two years after conferral of the degree before his “doctoral thesis” was heard. On January 4, 1881, before the distinguished faculty and administration of the school, Brahms conducted the premiere of his Academic Festival Overture.
　The overture was written in the summer of 1880, along with its companion piece, the Tragic Overture, Op. 81, at Brahmsʼs favorite summer resort in the mountains of Upper Austria. “One weeps; the other laughs,” said Brahms of his two overtures. He further described the Academic Festival Overture as “a jolly potpourri of student songs à la Suppé.”
　Although not a university man himself, Brahms was familiar with student life, having shared in convivial university gatherings and events in his earlier years. Into his Academic Festival Overture in standard sonata-allegro form he worked four student songs interspersed with original material of his own. The first of these songs, “Wir hatten gebauet ein stattliches Haus” (We had built a stately house) is softly and solemnly intoned by the brass following a soft roll on the timpani. The second, “Der Landesvater” (Father of Our Country) is a flowing, lyrical theme for the violins. A perky tune in the bassoons suddenly interrupts the mood to announce the ribald and mischievous Freshmenʼs initiation song “Was kommt dort von der Hoh?” (What comes there from on high?). For a grandiose coda, Brahms introduces his fourth song, the immensely popular (in nineteenth-century Germany) “Gaudeamus igitur” (Let us now rejoice), with the full orchestra blazing away in joyous C major.

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.
　

Beethoven: Symphony No.8 in F major, op.93

Ⅰ Allegro vivace e con brio
Ⅱ Allegretto scherzando
Ⅲ Tempo di Menuetto
Ⅳ Allegro vivace

Ludwig van Beethoven: Born in Bonn, December l6, 1770; died in Vienna, March 26, 1827

　The first public performance of Beethovenʼs Eighth Symphony took place under the composerʼs direction in the Grand Redoutensaal in Vienna on February 27, 1814 at one of the concerts featuring a repeat performance of Wellingtonʼs Victory. It met with a cool reception, sandwiched as it was between the powerful, highly-charged Seventh Symphony and the bombastic Wellingtonʼs Victory. Nothing could compete with Wellingtonʼs Victory!
　The Eighth has earned a reputation as one of Beethovenʼs “lesser” symphonies, not to be compared with such towering masterworks as the Eroica or the Ninth. Give or take a few minutes, it is also the shortest Beethoven symphony. Yet, in its own ways, the Eighth is as original and interesting a work as most any other symphony of Beethoven. Consider the generous amount of humor − surely more here than in any other Beethoven symphony. This includes the sudden outbursts in 2/4 meter within the 3/4 first movement, the “tick-tock” effect in the second movement, the rhythmic ambiguity at the beginning of the third movement, the quick “um-pahs” of the timpani in the finale, and much more − unexpected pauses, unprepared gestures, surprise intrusions of loud and soft notes, etc. Beethoven himself referred to the symphony as aufgeknöpft (unbuttoned).
　One should, however, avoid the temptation to read into the work a reflection of the composerʼs personal life at the time of writing, for he was going through one of the most tortured periods of his existence. A persistent stomach ailment; the deepest love affair of his life (with Antonie Brentano), which was doomed, like all the rest, to failure; and his interference in the love life of his brother Johann all made for anything but the happy, joyous mood evinced in the Eighth Symphony.
　With a burst of energy, the symphony begins immediately with the first theme − a bright, well-balanced, classical-style theme consisting of “question and answer” phrases. The second subject is a graceful, lilting melody in the violins. Further melodic material is heard as a closing theme.
　Beethoven omits the usual slow movement, using in its place a rather animated Allegretto scherzando. Legend has it that this movement was written as a humorous tribute to Beethovenʼs friend Maelzel, inventor of the metronome and two of the innovative instruments used in Wellingtonʼs Victory. Scholars are not agreed on the matter, but this detracts not a whit from the unavoidable feeling that there is some kind of tick-tock mechanism at work. One is tempted to think back also to Haydnʼs Clock Symphony (No. 101) with its ticking second movement.
　For the third movement, Beethoven returned to the eighteenth-century world of the minuet, but this “minuet” is unusually robust and heavy-footed, almost like the scherzos found in all his previous symphonies except the First. A typical Beethovenian joke is seen in the designation of the movement as Tempo di menuetto − not a real minuet, apparently, just the tempo of a minuet! The central section is a gracious and elegant Trio for two horns and clarinet, plus cello accompaniment.
　The boisterous finale is chock full of jollity and musical jokes. Throughout this movement lasting but six or seven minutes Beethoven again and again sets loud and soft passages violently against each other. There is a plethora of sforzandos − a brand of accents that requires something of a stinging attack. Surprise pauses abrupt harmonic shifts abound. A false recapitulation leads music theorists down the garden path. And for a work of such modest means, Beethoven gives us an obviously overdone coda − one that would almost have befit the mighty Fifth Symphony, but which seems here almost clownish. Who says classical music always has to be serious?
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.
　

Dvořák: Symphony No.8 in G major, op.88

Ⅰ Allegro con brio
Ⅱ Adagio
Ⅲ Allegretto grazioso
Ⅳ Allegro ma non troppo

Antonín Dvořák: Born in Mühlhausen (near Prague), Bohemia (today Nelahozeves, Czech Republic), September 8, 1841; died in Prague, May 1, 19047

　The genial, carefree spirit of Dvořákʼs 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: Beethovenʼs Sixth, Schumannʼs Spring Symphony (No. 1), Schubertʼs Fifth, Mahlerʼs Fourth, and Brahmsʼs 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 twelve 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.
　The symphonyʼs 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 timpaniʼs “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 that 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 ten different versions of it before he was satisfied. (Beethovenʼs “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.
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.
　

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