Symphony No. 46- Franz Joseph Haydn

This symphony was written during what scholars call Haydn’s “Sturm und Drang” (storm and stress) period, from the late 1760s to the early 1770s.  In his review of a CD of some of these symphonies, including No. 46, Richard Wigmore says, “Stormy, majestic or playful, virtually every work here reflects Haydn’s restless exploration of the symphony’s expressive and intellectual potential during these years, whether in an enhanced use of counterpoint, heightened theatrical contrasts or a more intensive, far-reaching approach to thematic development.”

 The “sturm und drang” are decidedly evident in this opening movement in 4/4. In its chiefly sonata form---with an exposition that includes two parts, one in major and one in minor; a rich development section that starts off with the opening downward leap of a sixth and seems almost to be setting up a fugue---but really not; and a recapitulation---we feel the intensity of emotion that the term implies, with the shifting of harmonic modes, the sudden contrasts in dynamics, the heavy accents, the running lines up and down that give the movement its energy, and the abrupt pauses. It’s a thrilling movement.

It must necessarily be followed by something less thrilling, perhaps simply engaging. It is: a slightly mysterious adagio, in 6/8. Competing lines---staccato versus legato---pull us in two different aural directions. A couple of false endings and pauses take us by surprise. The color added by the oboes and the horns grabs our attention. A unison section? Yes. And the spun-out lines that break our expectation of how long they’re going to be leave us sort of breathless.

The third movement clocks in at about two minutes! It’s in the traditional scherzo-minuet-scherzo (ABA) format, a small study in contrasts: a sturdy opening melody in major mode versus a slightly haunting middle section, with a return to a condensed version of the A section.

The last movement is Haydn at his most puckish. He starts off in 2/2 with a descending B-major scale—typical enough. Loud. Detached. He also plays with minor mode. But then he introduces a number of pauses, creating a feeling of anticipation: what’s next? What’s next turns out, at one point, to be references to the minuet of the third movement, which means we’re now suddenly in ¾. Soon we’re back to the opening material of the fourth movement. More pauses. More third-movement allusion. An attempted, stutter-start return to the sprightly main theme. And then with two abrupt chords, Haydn slams shut this symphony.

- Concert notes by Paul Lamar

Violin Concerto No. 2 - George Tsontakis

My first concerto was scored for a large orchestra where, in most instances, the forces provide for sonic blocks of granite alternately supporting and challenging the soloist’s message and sound.  In No. 1, the violin soloist is set apart as kind of a thoughtful anti-hero.

The Violin Concerto No. 2, written for the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra and its dynamic concertmaster, Steven Copes, is another story altogether.  In this work, the soloist is a member — albeit the most important, center-stage and influential member — of an intricate musical tapestry formed by joining colorful, distinctly soloistic and individual instrumental partners.  The concept of “orchestral” is diminished in deference to the concept of “chamber.”

I wanted to harness and project the kaleidoscopic sparkle of this “ensemble of soloists” without compromising the violin soloist’s position of prominence.  While designed to create a cohesive architectural whole, there is less emphasis on a dramatic narrative-curve and more on just how colorful and creatively dramatic music can be.  At the same time, there would be little doubt that, in its own specific way, this work is truly a violin concerto.

- George Tsontakis

A Flash of Teeth Before the Bite - Tanner Porter 

“A Flash of Teeth Before the Bite” is a surreal dance for a moment of warning. While writing it, I was thinking about the sinewy movement of a dog lunging in slow motion. The piece shifts between absurdity and lamentation, and nods to the suspension of time that can color a pang of realization.  

- Tanner Porter

Symphony No. 5- Franz Schubert 

Schubert, that supreme master of melody, composed this most melodic symphony in 1816,  when he was only 19 years old.  Edward Downes states that it is sometimes referred to as the “Symphony Without Trumpet and Drums,” and, indeed, it was written for a tiny chamber orchestra that premiered it at the home of Schubert’s friend Otto Harwig. After Schubert’s death the score was lost, until orchestral parts were found nearly four decades later, and the work received its first public performance 57 years after it was written.

The symphony begins with a charming, skipping melody. A second tune emerges in the strings; then it’s repeated by the flute and the oboe. The exposition is replayed. Development of these two melodies occurs, followed by a recapitulation and a unison coda. In short, it’s the very model of sonata-allegro form.

The second movement is a graceful, lyrical dance, one in which politeness and decorum reign. Passing clouds in minor mode occasionally affect the proceedings, and at one point the atmosphere seems downright stormy, but Schubert returns to sunny major mode. Towards the end he provides a series of false cadences as if to put off the dance’s conclusion, so it takes the French horn’s outlining of an E-flat major chord to bring events to a decisive close.

The third movement, typically in ABA form and in 3/4, kicks off with a sharply accented kind of rustic dance. The B section is a warm interlude, with fine opportunities for the bassoon and the other winds. The strings take over again with the return of the A material.

The last movement, in sonata form, opens with a fast, climbing tune beginning on F, the dominant of the work’s major key, B-flat. A gentle second melody appears in the strings, and both tunes are developed by all sections of the orchestra. Schubert subtly explores the minor mode here and there, but when all is said and done, this is a symphony that banishes cares instead of raising concerns. 

- Concert notes by Paul Lamar