BEETHOVEN UNDER THE STARS
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2021
07:30 PM | Ascend Amphitheater
NASHVILLE SYMPHONY
Giancarlo Guerrero, conductor
Stewart Goodyear, piano
PROGRAM
BEETHOVEN
Piano Concerto No. 5
BARBER
Adagio for Strings
BEETHOVEN
Symphony No. 5
AT A GLANCE
Our long, painful absence from live music is at last coming to an end — and the pleasure you take by experiencing it again is likely to be especially intense. But just imagine Ludwig van Beethoven’s own condition. He began acknowledging that he was having hearing problems around the turn of the 19th century, as he entered his early 30s. Despite a desperate search for cures, his deafness only progressed, and he learned to accept that he would never again experience the full physical pleasure of music.
Beethoven refused to let that harsh reality deter him from his sense of artistic mission. For later generations, especially in the Romantic era, his deafness became a metaphor for “Fate” or for the universe’s cruel indifference to suffering. The Fifth Symphony in particular has been seen to represent a spirit of defiance, of refusing to give in to the inevitable despair. The result reforged elements of Classical style into a masterpiece that also became a rallying cry for the emerging Romantic generation — and for anyone who has tried to appropriate its power.
Beethoven had originally made his name as an incredibly imaginative, unpredictable, wildly improvising virtuoso pianist among the well-to-do in Vienna. When he wrote piano concertos, they were intended to show off this facet of his musicianship. He premiered four of his five concertos, but by the time it came to unveil the last — which dates from a crossroads in his career and is in some ways the richest and most complex — Beethoven’s deafness kept him from playing that role.
Between these monumental Beethoven scores, we hear Samuel Barber’s elegiac Adagio for Strings. Though thoroughly secular, this music conveys a sense of solemnity and spiritual authenticity that has made it a go-to work from the canon of American music for times of national mourning and reflection.
 |
|
|---|---|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Beethoven resettled in Vienna when he was in his early 20s, in 1792 — a year, it so happens of renewed revolutionary fervor to the west, in France, where the radical decision was taken to imprison the royal family. The rumors of distant war would move eastward, and in fact an enormous part of Beethoven’s career unfolded during the seemingly endless battles of the Napoleonic era, right up until the French leader’s final defeat at Waterloo in 1815.
So there’s some irony in the fact that Beethoven’s fifth and last completed piano concerto is known by the nickname “Emperor” among English speakers (but not in the German-speaking world, curiously). “Emperor” might suggest some sort of glorification of Napoleon. But the nickname comes not from the composer but from the English publisher of the work. Beethoven’s milestone Third Symphony from 1805, Eroica, which is in the same key of E-flat major, does have legitimate links to Napoleon, to whom he originally planned to dedicate the score. But Beethoven furiously changed his mind because of what he regarded as Napoleon’s betrayal of revolutionary ideals when he arrogantly had himself crowned emperor.
The irony is that Beethoven was working on this piano concerto at the very moment when Napoleon’s armies were bombarding Vienna in the spring of 1809 — and causing him extra misery on top of the general chaos and economic disorder suffered by his fellow citizens. His apartment at the time was close to the French firing line, so Beethoven hid away in his brother’s cellar nearby, desperately covering his ears with pillows to stifle the sound of explosions and prevent further damage to his already shattered hearing. His deafness was already so far progressed that, for the first time in his career, Beethoven did not play the solo part at the public premiere, which took place not in Vienna but in Leipzig to the west. He gave that honor to another pianist.
Somehow, amid these awful circumstances, Beethoven composed music of sweeping — and, yes, majestic — grandeur. The outer movements unfold in E-flat major, which he had made his signature key for evoking a larger-than-life sense of heroic adventure, struggle, and conflict, as well as of individual willpower. The real “imperial” leader is the one who has the nobility within — not by birth, privilege, or possessions — to grasp and make the most of life’s grandeur.
WHAT TO LISTEN FOR
Beethoven stages a sparkling, theatrical entrance for the soloist: before the orchestral “introduction” of themes, the piano already explodes into action, filling out each of the three big chords played by the orchestra with exuberant solo passages. There’s almost a sense of improvisation here, of sweeping fantasy that ranges from bold extroversion to the lofty visions of a poet. For Beethoven, the pianist-protagonist is a stand-in for the artist, that most successful of conquerors.
The first movement contains elements of the “heroic” style Beethoven perfected in his middle period — above all in such works as the Eroica and Fifth Symphonies — but we also encounter a more relaxed kind of musing. It’s remarkable that there is only one passage in this lengthy journey where a genuine sense of crisis emerges, in a series of violently stabbing chords that stand out within the larger narrative. This passage is uncannily reminiscent of a similar moment of crisis heard at the parallel moment of the Eroica Symphony’s first movement. But the danger is soon cleared away when Beethoven segues into a glorious recapitulation of the abundant, flowing opening cadenzas.
The principle of having the second movement of a large-scale work like this slowdown in pace makes a lot of sense after such an exhausting excursion. The Adagio, one of Beethoven’s most serene slow movements, offers multiple contrasts. Even the key, B major, is notably distant from the “home” of E-flat major. Since deafness had put an end to his career as a virtuoso performer, Beethoven looked increasingly inward. At least that is one way of interpreting the veiled beauty of this music (the strings are literally muted), which retreats from the driving energy and worldly cares of the first movement. If the main melody (in its final phrase) sounds familiar, that may be on account of the resemblance to “Somewhere” from Leonard Bernstein’s West Side Story.
Just as the Adagio seems poised to come to a graceful end, Beethoven prepares one of his most inventive surprise transitions. It’s a ploy we’ll hear again in the Fifth Symphony (more on that there). Musically, he performs the equivalent of a smooth gear switch from the Adagio’s B major back to the home key of E-flat major to set the stage for the finale.
The soloist teasingly “comes up” with the new theme that will give the finale its fuel. The theme has terrific momentum, intensified by the aggressively propulsive accents Beethoven uses to shape it. We hear a number of variants on this idea, contrasted with some newly introduced ideas. Beethoven’s theatrical sense is also to be admired here. Near the end, he brings the vibrantly driving engine of this music to a near standstill. The timpani alone press on with the main rhythmic idea, like a naked heartbeat. The piano soloist responds with a glittering cascade of scales, pointing the way out and giving the orchestra a jubilant final word.
In addition to solo piano, the score calls for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani and strings.
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In 1935, Samuel Barber wrote the first piece by an American to be played at the prestigious Salzburg Festival in Austria. That event, which occurred in 1937, so impressed the world-famous conductor Arturo Toscanini that he requested music from the young American for his fledgling radio orchestra, the NBC Symphony (a new endeavor founded for Toscanini, a vehement anti-Fascist who had left Mussolini’s Italy out of protest and who also refused to perform in Hitler’s Third Reich).
Barber responded by sending a version for string orchestra of the slow movement from his Op. 11 String Quartet. The expansion included an extra part for double bass to reinforce the texture for a concert hall context. The Adagio’s premiere over the radio waves in November 1938 catapulted Barber to international fame. Adagio for Strings has come to serve as a go-to work in the canon of American music for times of national mourning and reflection. Its sensibility is both secular and non-denominational while also conveying a sense of spiritual gravitas with unadorned authenticity. (Later, the composer made an a cappella arrangement set to the Latin prayer “Agnus Dei.”) The Adagio has also been used to great effect on Platoon and many other soundtracks.
WHAT TO LISTEN FOR
In its original context, the Adagio occurs as the middle of three movements, yet it is perfectly suited to performance as a stand-alone piece. In fact, Barber was never satisfied with his conclusion to the String Quartet, whose emotional weight he realized was centered in the middle. According to Barber scholars, one hidden inspiration for the original was the pagan nature poetry written by the great Latin poet Virgil.
Rather than a simple “Adagio,” Barber’s actual tempo indication is molto adagio espressivo cantando, i.e., “very slowly and with an expressive singing quality.” The music gradually builds in intensity and textural density as it ascends through the strings’ registers. The entire piece develops from the stepwise melodic motif stated at the opening. Using simple and familiar elements, Barber plots the Adagio as a masterful piece of architecture: well-calculated but at the same time emotionally gripping. The music builds toward a wrenching climax before breaking off into a numbed, throbbing silence. A gentle reprise then recasts the opening in a new guise of stoic resignation. The result is a powerful sense of catharsis.
Barber’s Adagio is scored for string orchestra alone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Just months before he plunged into composition of the “Emperor” Concerto, Beethoven presented a path-breaking concert of his latest works. It took place in a mercilessly under-heated Viennese theater on December 22, 1808. Few of those in attendance likely realized that this was a landmark in music history. The concept of regular orchestral seasons had not yet become a widespread practice. In fact, Beethoven himself organized the event as a way to present his latest efforts as well as to raise funds to support his work as a freelance musician in Vienna.
The enormous program included the world premieres of both the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies as well as a strange work for piano, orchestra, vocal soloists, and chorus known as the Choral Fantasy (in some ways a preview of the Ninth Symphony). Plus, there was a brand-new piano concerto (the Fourth), as well as excerpts from Beethoven’s Mass in C major and a concert aria.
The Fifth Symphony (which was numbered incorrectly as the “Sixth,” incidentally) is in C minor, which might be seen as a sort of reverse mirror image of the optimism and adventurism of E-flat major in terms of what these Keyes signified for Beethoven. He gravitated toward C minor to express a darkly tragic yet defiant heroism, but at the heart of the musical storytelling here we still find the notion of individual willpower dominating events.
WHAT TO LISTEN FOR
The opening bars are scored for the entire string orchestra plus clarinets. What they play is the musical equivalent of the fission of a nucleus that sets off an unstoppable chain reaction of ideas. This dramatic opening does suggest a confrontation and has become a shorthand to represent what is unique about the Fifth Symphony — a microcosm of the entire work. Yet there’s no indication in that famous musical gesture of the triumph that will arrive in the finale. It’s essential to experience the entire symphony to appreciate Beethoven’s ingenious architecture.
In fact, those first four notes, with their interplay of short and long, are not even the whole story of the first movement. Notice the tense silence before the next statement (at lower pitches). Later on, after an extraordinary build-up of conflict and tension, Beethoven introduces a poignant oboe solo that seems intended to delay the inevitable reprise. A huge surprise awaits in the final section, where Beethoven stretches the conventional proportions of a first movement to make extra space to ratchet up the tension even higher. In this section, he introduces a new idea and suppresses the four-note theme until the bitter end.
The Andante presents a set of what are called double variations (simply put, the variation idea applied to two contrasting themes that alternate). The first theme is a serene, widely ranging melody, the second a compactly shaped, militaristic fanfare that nevertheless borrows the same rhythmic push.
C minor returns in the scherzo, which has fascinated generations of listeners with its spooky, Gothic soundscape of chilling “special effects.” This is a far cry from the tightly argued tragedy of the first movement. A bit of comic relief comes in the middle section, which turns to C major, where the strings scamper like unleashed puppies chasing each other, building to a triumphant eruption. But this passage dies down for an even creepier reprise of the opening C minor material — and one of music’s greatest moments of suspense-building. As in the “Emperor” Concerto, Beethoven provides a direct link to the finale. Fading to near inaudibility, the strings and timpani generate a musical fog that is swept away when the brass blaze out a kind of fanfare of unmistakable C major.
It’s quite a challenge Beethoven has set for himself here. Starting at such a fevered pitch of victory might have been anti-climactic — what could follow this? C major has now securely arrived — or has it? Beethoven ingeniously reprises the “spooky” version of the Scherzo music just before reprising the finale’s main ideas. The effect of the fanfare blaze is just as thrilling this far on into the finale. It’s as if Beethoven is insisting that the moment of breakthrough is not once and for all but has to be achieved over and over. Perhaps that is why, in the final minutes, he hammers home this hard-won affirmation with such insistence.
The Fifth Symphony is scored for 2 flutes and piccolo, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons and contrabassoon, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, timpani, and strings.
— Thomas May is the Nashville Symphony’s program annotator.