Chapel Hill PhilharmoniaHill Hall — University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

7:30 p.m. Sunday, December 12, 2010

“Musical Revolutions”

Donald L. Oehler, Music Director

Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971)The Firebird: Suite (1919 Version)

IntroductionThe Firebird and Her Dance

Round Dance of the PrincessesThe Infernal Dance of King Kastchei

Berceuse (Cradle Song)Finale

Intermission

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)Symphony No. 3 in E flat major, “Eroica”, Op. 55

Allegro con brioMarcia Funebre (Adagio assai)

Scherzo (Allegro vivace)Finale (Allegro molto)

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Musical RevolutionsMusical history is a continuum, following a logical progression as composers build on the work of their predecessors. We can trace the flow of musical thought over the centuries, so that works from 400 years ago, at the beginning of the Baroque era, remain understandable and pleasurable to modern ears. If we could find a way to hear them, we might find that compositions to be written 400 years in the future would hold similar appeal. One can imagine that the evolution of musical composition might even be foretold through Psychohistory, a behavioral science ‘invented’ by the character Hari Seldon in Isaac Asimov’s Foundation novels (winner of a one-time Hugo Award for Best All-Time Series in science fiction). Seldon’s goal was to map out a 1,000-year plan to ensure the renaissance of civilization after the fall of a galactic empire. He postulated that, while individual actions cannot be foreseen, the general course of the future can be predicted accurately and controlled through the application of statistical laws to large groups of people. Indeed, Professor Peter Cariani, in a course at MIT on Music Perception and Cognition, invokes a “Psychohistory of Music” to understand large patterns in the development of music, and determine what will come in the future. Perhaps an expert Psychohistorian at the time, say, of Monteverdi (ca 1600) would not have needed time travel to know more or less how music would sound in the Classical era, almost 200 years later. However, Hari Seldon recognized a key flaw in his own science. Once in a great while, a single person has such profound mental powers that he brings about revolutionary change and fundamentally alters the historical path in ways that no statistical model could predict. In the Foundation novels a psychic mutant known as “the Mule” caused major deviations in the Seldon Plan. In the development of symphonic music, Ludwig van Beethoven was the Mule.

Tonight’s program pairs Beethoven’s monumental Symphony No. 3, named by him Eroica (Heroic), with an orchestral suite derived from Igor Stravinsky’s first great ballet score, L’Oiseau de Feu (The Firebird). Each of these compositions, in its own way, began a revolution with impact audible in music up to our day. Each also embraces the theme of renaissance – rebirth – shared with Asimov’s Foundation.

From the premiere of The Firebird in Paris on June 25, 1910, until his death in 1971, Stravinsky exerted a potent influence on twentieth century music. He composed Firebird for impresario Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, the toast of a city in love with all things Russian. The work “was an immediate and overwhelming success with both critics and public. [One week after his 28th birthday,] Stravinsky became a major figure in the world of music overnight.” (Michael Oliver) His ascendance to renown came with little advance warning. While his father Fyodor was the principal bass singer at a celebrated theater in St. Petersburg, and his mother Anna a fine pianist, neither parent encouraged their son’s obsession with music. At Fyodor’s insistence, Stravinsky enrolled in law school. By chance, one of his classmates was a son of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, a composer distinguished for his own romantic works, such as Scheherazade, and as a teacher. Despite initial skepticism, Rimsky took Stravinsky under his wing. The personal tutorial continued from 1903 until Rimsky’s death in 1908.

The Firebird incorporated harmonic devices and colorful orchestration in the tradition of Russian composers such as Mikhail Glinka, Piotr Tchaikovsky, and, especially, Rimsky. One also hears in it more modern influences of French Impressionists such as Claude Debussy, and the emergence of Stravinsky’s own unique compositional voice. Stravinsky stretched further the next year with the ballet Petrushka, portraying “a puppet, suddenly

Igor Stravinsky drawn by his friend Pablo Picasso, 1920

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endowed with life, exasperating the patience of the orchestra with diabolical cascades of arpeggios. The orchestra in turn retaliates with menacing trumpet-blasts.” (Stravinsky) Then, in his third score for Diaghilev, Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring), Stravinsky shattered all known musical boundaries. He depicted “a solemn pagan rite: sage elders, seated in a circle watch[ing] a young girl dance herself to death. They were sacrificing her to propitiate the god of spring.” (Stravinsky) The elemental power of wild rhythms, extraordinary orchestral colors, and raw sexual energy of Rite of Spring shakes audiences today, nearly a century after the work’s composition. The premiere performance, in Paris on May 29, 1913, set off a riot. The writer Carl Van Vechten reported that some members of the audience catcalled wrathful protests against “a blasphemous attempt to destroy music as an art,” while others, such as composer Maurice Ravel, countered with cries of “Genius! Genius!” Fistfights broke out. Van Vechten recalled that a young man, laboring under “intense excitement…thanks to the potent force of the music…began to beat rhythmically on the top of my head with his fists. My emotion was so great that I did not feel the blows for some time.” The wild evening came to symbolize the birth of musical Modernism. Stravinsky was anointed “the champion of the avant-garde and the bête noire of traditionalists.” (Jan Swafford) While his music later evolved in different directions, through neo-classicism to embracing the serialist method of Arnold Schoenberg, Stravinsky’s revolutionary early ballets were central to the progression of 20th century music.

The Firebird’s exoticism is gentler than that of Rite of Spring, and is deeply rooted in folklore. The story amalgamates two figures from traditional Russian myths: King Kastchei the Deathless One, a green-taloned ogre who embodies evil (Harry Potter fans, think Voldemort); and the Firebird, a Phoenix with plumes of golden fire, symbolizing hope and rebirth (Harry Potter fans, think Fawkes). The orchestral suite (we play the 1919 version, one of three Stravinsky produced) highlights key moments of the tale. Prince Ivan Tsarevich wanders at night into Kastchei’s magical rock-strewn gardens (the stones being victims of the evil king’s spells). There he spies the Firebird, depicted musically by shimmering harmonic arpeggios in the strings (“Introduction”). Ivan chases and captures the creature, but agrees to free her in return for a single feather and the promise of aid if he should need it. The Prince next encounters thirteen captive princesses, performing a Russian folk dance under Kastchei’s control (“Round Dance of the Princesses”). Ivan falls in love with Elena, the most beautiful. At daybreak the princesses must return to the ogre’s castle. Ivan follows them. A horde of freakish monsters check his way, and Kastchei threatens to turn Ivan to stone. Under the protection of the golden feather, the Prince calls upon the Firebird. She arrives and causes Kastchei and his courtiers to dance wildly, with a rhythmic fury that presages Rite of Spring (“Infernal Dance of King Kastchei”). They fall from exhaustion and the Firebird sings them into a deep sleep with a lullaby (“Berceuse”). She now reveals to Ivan the secret of Kastchei’s immortality. The evil king has encased his own soul in an egg (Harry Potter fans, think horcrux) and cached it deep in his castle. Prince Ivan finds the egg and crushes it, killing Kastchei. The maidens become free, the garden stones return to human form, and Ivan and Elena live happily ever after as rulers of the reborn Kingdom (“Finale”).

Michel Fokine & Tamara Karsavina in the Ballets Russes production of The Firebird, ca 1910

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In the Symphony No. 3, often called simply the Eroica, Beethoven depicts a heroic struggle very different from that of a fairy tale Prince. The work, composed mainly in 1803, received its first public performance in April 1805. Its structure indicates that the theme of rebirth was central to Beethoven’s conception. The vigorous, thematically rich opening movement is followed by a profound funeral march. But, surprisingly, the third movement is a light-heared Scherzo, literally a “joke”, the first symphonic movement to bear this name. The weighty Finale, an extended set of variations on one of Beethoven’s own dance tunes, ends with a celebratory uplift not matched until the choral “Ode to Joy” with which Beethoven climaxed his Symphony No. 9 two decades later.

A perplexing question holds one key to understanding the Eroica’s deep emotional power and its revolutionary, transformative impact on music. Who, actually, is the Hero?

At one level the answer seems self-evident. Beethoven originally gave his 3rd Symphony the title “Bonaparte”. The composer identified with Napoleon Bonaparte, then First Consul of the French Republic, as a like-minded champion of freedom and Enlightenment liberalism. They were nearly the same age, and both had risen from obscurity. To the composer, Bonaparte must have seemed the ultimate heroic protector of the downtrodden masses and revolutionary ideals. Yet this view soon changed. Beethoven’s student Ferdinand recounted why the symphony was renamed: “I was the first to tell [Beethoven] the news that Bonaparte had declared himself Emperor [on May 18, 1804], whereupon he broke into a rage and exclaimed, ‘So he is no more than a common mortal! Now, he too will tread under foot all the rights of man, indulge only his ambition; now he will think himself superior to all men, become a tyrant!’ Beethoven went to the table, seized the top of the title page, tore it in half and threw it on the floor. The page was later re-copied and it was only now that the symphony received the title ‘Sinfonia Eroica.’”

Although often quoted, Ries’s anecdote remains the subject of historical debate, as does Beethoven’s final assessment of Napoleon. The original manuscript to which Ries refers is lost. An existing copy does bear the inscription “Sinfonia Grande Intitulata Bonaparte,” with the last two words fiercely scratched out. Nonetheless, on that same title page Beethoven later penciled in the words “Geschrieben auf [written on] Bonaparte,” and in August 1804 he wrote to his publisher that the work is really called “Bonaparte.” The first known appearance of the title, “Heroic Symphony composed to celebrate the memory of a great man,” came when the score was printed in October 1806. If these words were meant as an ironic commentary on Napoleon’s fall into tyranny, how can one explain the Symphony’s progression from the heroic opening, to the funeral march, through the joyous scherzo, to a triumphant ending?

Some analysts suggest a stronger association of the Symphony No. 3 with a mythical hero – Prometheus, the Titan god who created humans from clay and then gave mankind fire. In classical mythology Zeus exacts a terrible revenge for sharing this secret with mortals. He chains Prometheus to a rock, whereupon an eagle gorges daily on his liver, only to have it regenerate every night. Significantly, Beethoven borrowed the theme of the Eroica’s final movement from his own ballet score The Creatures of Prometheus, composed in 1801. In this work Beethoven and dance master Salvatore Vigano transformed Prometheus’s fate from perpetual torture to execution followed by rebirth. Additional

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Ludwig van Beethoven, 1804

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musical similarities reinforce the link between Eroica and Prometheus. For example the opening movement of the symphony contains clear allusions to the eighth piece of the ballet music, named the ‘Danza Eroica’. “Still more important is the affinity of the two following pieces of the ballet, the ‘Tragica scena’ [Tragic Scene] (no. 9) and ‘Giuocosa scena’ [Happy Scene] (no. 10, in which the dead Prometheus is restored to life), to the progression from the Marcia funebre to the scherzo in the symphony.” (Beethoven, William Kinderman; Oxford University Press, 1997)

Another candidate for hero of the Eroica is Beethoven himself. In his early 30s, famed for his wild piano improvisations, and with admiration growing for his compositions, he was the fastest rising star in Vienna’s musical firmament. But Beethoven also was losing his hearing. “A deaf composer – it was impossible, absurd, unendurable.” (Jan Swafford) Retreating to a small resort in 1802, Beethoven contemplated suicide. Finally, he decided to bear his suffering. We know this from the “Heiligenstadt Testament”, a letter written to his brothers, but never mailed, that Beethoven kept with him for the rest of his days. He wrote, “Only Art, only art held me back; ah it seemed impossible to me that I should leave the world before I had produced all that I felt I might, and so I spared this wretched life.” Phoenix-like, Beethoven rose from the ashes of despair and began to compose music unlike any heard before. The work with which he marked this artistic resurrection was the Symphony No. 3. Perhaps, in doing so,

he identified with Prometheus. “That the Eroica could be a symphonic expansion of the Prometheus ballet, with the main character symbolizing the tortured and misunderstood artist, is more than plausible. The parallel – heroic, tragic, joyous – would seem more than coincidental and ultimately more satisfying than speculating why Beethoven killed Napoleon then resurrected him.” (Jacob Jordaens)

Regardless of its inner meaning to the composer, the Eroica marked a truly revolutionary step in musical history. The symphony’s sheer scale, harmonic complexity, and dramatic shape were unprecedented. Its emotional breadth and power launched musical Romanticism, the movement that dominated composition until Stravinsky and Schoenberg more than a century later, and its impact remains unsurpassed to this day.

© Mark E. Furth, PhD 2010/12/12

Prometheus Bound: Howard David Johnson, 1978

Chapel Hill PhilharmoniaMusic DirectorDonald L. OehlerViolin IMark Furth*Alyssa ArenaRegina BlackAndrea BrazeltonMelissa ChallisKara EatonKatie EckertKristen HopperKotomi KobayashiKatharine LiangDavid O’BrienMichael PeachLaura RuscheWilliam SlechtaKristin ThompsonViolin IILawrence Evans*Tom AndersonTom Beale

Jeffrey RossmanCourtney ThompsonRosalind VolpeDouble BassJim Baird*Neil HollenbeckDan ThuneHarpCasey PerleyFluteDenise Bevington *Alma CoefmanPat PukkilaMary SturgeonnOboeJudy Konanc*Elizabeth DoggettJohn Konanc

ClarinetMérida Negrete*Wayne CarlsonSteve FursKen JensBassoonChris Myers *Colette NeishLewis RandallPaul VerderberFrench Horn Sandy Svoboda*Tobin FowlerGarth MolyneuxJulia SumanAdams WoffordTrumpetDave Goodman*Kohta Ikegami

Benjamin FileneLinda FrankelLindsay FulcherAnna GageCharlene JonesMary Alice LebetkinJocelyn SaladaPeggy SauerwaldPat TennisDoris ThibaultErnest Vallorz IIIVioloncelloDick Clark*Kirsten BrownSuzanne CrabtreeKaren DanielsJim DietzJohn C. EdwardsLen GettesJanet HadlerEva Rennie MartinAshley Richards

TromboneRandy Guptill*Steve MagnusenThomas MillerJeremy SimonTubaTed BissetteTimpaniRoger Halchin *PercussionJennie VaughnTheous JonesRyan LePianoAlice Tien* section principalLibrariansAlice ChurukianWilliam Slechta

Jaeda Coutinho-BuddBarbara J. CrockettKathryn HackerKari HaddyCheryl HarwardBeth HortonErin HowardLindsay LambeAnne PuseySara SalekAyumi ShimokawaAlison SilverHarriet SolomonSusan StrobelMargaret VimmerstedtDebby WechslerHarriet WuViolaKatherine Stalberg*Jennifer ArnoldKalman BlandAlice Churukian

The Chapel Hill Philharmonia gratefully acknowledges

these contributors for 2009-2010GlaxoSmithKline Foundation

Hulka Family EndowmentStrowd Roses Foundation

Triangle Community FoundationTom AndersonJennifer ArnoldTom BealeDenise BevingtonRegina BlackKalman BlandAlice ChurukianDick ClarkKaren DanielsLarry EvansSteve FursLen GettesDave GoodmanRosalind Volpe GoodwinCheryl HarwardJerry HulkaKohta Ikegami

Please join us for our other concerts this season.

Sunday, Feb. 20 at 7:30 PM in Kenan Music Building

Concert will include Symphony No. 104 — Franz Joseph HaydnConcertino for Clarinet and Orchestra —

Carl Maria von Weber, D. L. Oehler, soloist

Sunday, May 1 at 7:30 PM in Hill Hall Auditorium

Concert will include Symphony No. 2 — Alexander Borodin

Winner of the 2011 Young Artist Concerto Competition

The Phiharmonia now has open dress rehearsals at 9:00 am on the Saturday morning

before each concert. Children are welcome!

John KonancJudy KonancGarth MolyneuxPatricia PukkilaSally RohrdanzLaura RuscheBill SlechtaHarriet SolomonSusan StrobelMary SturgeonPat TennisAlice TienPaul VerderberMargaret VimmerstedtAlex VogelNancy WilsonDorothy Wright

Visit www.chapelhillphilharmonia.org to join our email list on Google Groups so you can receive updates about CHP concerts.

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