PROGRAM NOTES November 19 and 20, 2016

This weekend’s program might well be called ‘Unknown Brahms.’ We hear none of his celebrated overtures, concertos or . With the exception of the opening work, all the pieces are rarities on concert programs. Spanning Brahms’s youth through his early maturity, the music the Wichita performs this weekend broadens our knowledge and appreciation of this German Romantic genius.

Hungarian Dance No. 6 Born in Hamburg, May 7, 1833 in Hamburg, Germany Died April 3, 1897 in Vienna, Austria

Last performed March 28/29, 1992

We don’t think of Brahms as a composer of pure entertainment music. He had as much gravitas as any 19th-century master and is widely regarded as a great champion of absolute music, music in its purest, most abstract form. Yet Brahms loved to quaff a stein or two of beer with friends and, within his circle, was treasured for his droll sense of humor. His Hungarian Dances are perhaps the finest examples of this side of his character: music for relaxation and diversion, intended to give pleasure to both performer and listener.

Their music is familiar and beloved - better known to the general public than many of Brahms’s concert works. Thus it comes as a surprise to many listeners to learn that Brahms specifically denied authorship of their melodies. He looked upon these dances as arrangements, yet his own personality is so evident in them that they beg for consideration as original compositions. But if we deem them to be authentic Brahms, do we categorize them as music for one-piano four-hands, solo piano, or ? Versions for all three exist in Brahms's hand. Other arrangements for a wide variety of instrumental combinations have followed, including some by such luminaries as and Fritz Kreisler. These circumstances make the Hungarian Dances unique among Brahms's compositions.

The Hungarian Dances consist of 21 individual pieces in four books. They were published in two groups, the first in 1868 (parts 1 and 2) and the balance in 1880 (Parts 3 and 4). All the first editions were for one-piano, four hands. Brahms issued the first ten for solo piano in 1872, then orchestrated three of them the following year. (Antonín Dvořák's well-known orchestrations of No’s. 17-21 appeared in 1881.) The composition of these dances was an even more complex and drawn out affair than this publication history indicates. The earliest of the Hungarian Dances may have originated as far back as 1853. We know Brahms had begun playing them for friends by the mid-1850’s, for tales of such impromptu performances occur in memoirs and letters of his contemporaries.

Two Hungarian Fiddlers Brahms’s fascination with Hungarian Gypsy music undoubtedly grew out of his association with the Hungarian violinist Eduard Reményi, with whom he toured in 1853. Reményi was responsible for introducing Brahms to Joseph Joachim, another Hungarian violinist with whom Brahms was to have a more lasting and fruitful relationship. Nevertheless, before Brahms and Reményi parted company, the young composer absorbed the flavor and panache of the Gypsy style that was Reményi's specialty.

Like most 19th-century musicians, Brahms made no distinction between the folk music of Hungary and Gypsy music. Not until Bartók and Kodály undertook their ethnomusicological research in the early 20th-century did the differences become clear. Thus Brahms described these melodies in a letter to his publisher, Fritz Simrock, as "genuine Gypsy children, which I did not beget but merely brought up with bread and milk." He seems to have been delighted by the nourishment process. The Hungarian Dances gave him a change of pace from sonatas and symphonies. Their lurching momentum and three-bar phrases are markedly different from Brahms's customary style; so too is the episodic structure, with its abrupt changes in tempo, mood, and thematic material.

Brahms scored the dances for woodwinds in pairs plus piccolo; four horns, two , , percussion, and strings.

Song of Destiny (), Op. 54 Johannes Brahms

First performances by the Wichita Symphony

Brahms was immersed in choral works in the late 1860’s and early 1870’s The musical form derives from the poem, which contrasts two images The first part illustrated heavenly spirits in an idyllic environment Humankind’s lack of control over an uncertain world dominate the second part

When Johannes Brahms completed his choral masterpiece, A German Requiem, in 1868, he had labored on its seven movements for more than a decade; indeed, some of its musical ideas had roots extending as far back as 1854. Once undertaken, Brahms’s exploration of the possibilities for chorus and orchestra proved to be thorough. He was enormously encouraged by the warm reception accorded his Requiem. During the next half-dozen years a stream of splendid choral works flowed from his pen. First was , Op. 50, a for tenor and male chorus. Then in short order followed the , Op. 53, Schicksalslied, Op. 54, , Op. 55 for baritone and eight-part chorus. Clearly A German Requiem had loosed a fount of ideas.

In Schicksalslied, whose title means "Song of Destiny," Brahms focused on one of his favorite themes: the futility of man's destiny in a storm-tossed world. Friedrich Hölderlin's poem comes from his epistolary novel Hyperion oder der Eremit in Griechenland (Hyperion or the Hermit in Greece, 1797-99), which idealizes the culture and humanity of Ancient Greece. Hyperions Schicksalslied deals with the plight of mankind misplaced and cast adrift within his milieu. Brahms came across the text while visiting his friends the Dietrichs at in 1868. later published a memoir of the composer, in which he reported that Brahms was uncharacteristically serious during his stay.

He told us that early that morning (he always rose at dawn) he had found Hölderlin's poems in the bookcase, and had been most deeply moved by "Hyperions Schicksalslied." When, later in the day, after having wandered about and seen everything of interest, we sat down by the sea to rest, we discovered Brahms at a great distance, sitting alone on the beach and writing. These were the first sketches for the Schicksalslied.

Generally when Brahms was so taken by a text, work proceeded rapidly, and such was the case with this new piece. But a satisfactory conclusion eluded him, and he did not finalize the ending until 1871.

Problematic poem The compositional problem lay in the structure of the poem. Hölderlin's text is bipartite. The two opening stanzas relate man's envy of the blissful state in which heaven's blessed spirits exist. When man's earthly situation is introduced in the third stanza, the tone changes dramatically. The cruelty of Fate is exposed as a relentless force driving man to endless suffering in his search to escape darkness and turmoil in favor of peace and everlasting light. As compelling and worthy of musical setting as he found these ideas, the formalist in Brahms was inherently inimical to the two-part structure of the poem. He solved the problem by adding a third instrumental section, closing the work without chorus.

About the music Schicksalslied opens with a tranquil Adagio in E-flat major depicting the idyllic retreat of the divinities. Only the quiet and insistent pulse of the timpani hints at the havoc and distress of mortal life. After the celestial opening prelude, the altos introduce the first choral segment; they are joined by the balance of the chorus in music of exquisite serenity.

When the second section interrupts in storm-tossed , the contrast is riveting. Brahms's music explodes in an expression of humanity's earthbound agony. The sheer force of his compound choral and orchestral walls of sound has colossal drama. Brahms, however, cannot end on a gloomy note. Schicksalslied closes with a repeat of the orchestral prelude, transposed to C major. He thereby eases the pain of the depressing ending implied by the text. Where Hölderlin simply presented both scenarios, passing no judgment, Brahms elected to provide a dénouement. This conclusion is no conventional happy ending. He leaves a measure of suspense and mystery by means of the timpani, whose inexorable, driving rumble persists even through the quiet final measures.

The score calls for woodwinds, horns and trumpets in pairs, three , timpani, mixed chorus and strings.

Nänie, Op. 82 Johannes Brahms

First performances by the Wichita Symphony

The choral music of Johannes Brahms is one of the romantic period’s richest troves. The mid-19th century was a wonderful era for choral music and choral festivals. Early in his career, Brahms worked extensively with choral groups, including the Hamburg Women’s Chorus, which he founded, and a Detmold choral society. After his arrival in Vienna in the early 1860’s, one of his first formal appointments was as conductor of the Vienna Singakademie. He wrote for all the ensembles he led, arranging folk songs and other composers’ music, writing the occasional sacred piece and setting a wide variety of German poetry for female chorus, men’s chorus and mixed voices.

His list of works for chorus and orchestra is shorter, but distinguished by its high musical quality. Yet apart from his beloved German Requiem and an occasional dusting off of the Alto Rhapsody, precious little of it gets performed. Nänie (1880-81), one of his last compositions for mixed chorus and orchestra, is a miracle of serenity and Brahmsian beauty: meltingly lovely music that will delight fans of Brahms who are unacquainted with this little-known area of his compositions.

Friedrich Schiller’s text muses on the transitory nature of beauty, life, love and glory. Brahms turned to this poem after his friend Anselm Feuerbach died in early January 1880. A leading, if controversial, figure in the German classical painting school, Feuerbach first met Brahms in the early 1860’s. Although Feuerbach settled in Venice and died there, he had returned to Vienna for several years in the mid-1870’s to teach at the Vienna Academy of Art. The friendship rekindled, and Brahms was saddened when he learned of Feuerbach’s passing. The artist was only 50.

Nänie was thus a memorial, and Brahms elegantly captured the elegiac tone of Schiller’s verse in his exquisite music. He felt that the poem reflected Feuerbach’s humanist philosophy, rooted in ancient Greek and Roman ideals: the fatalism of ancient Greece tempered by acceptance. Schiller’s text considers divine indifference to mankind’s sufferings and tribulations. In succession the poem addresses the plight of Euridice, brought back from Hades only to be lost when Orpheus cannot resist that glance back over his shoulder; then Adonis, falling prey to a wild boar; and finally Achilles, slain by Paris in the Trojan war, upon which his mother Thetis emerges from the waters to mourn him. The message is that our memory of these glorious events is tribute. Honor comes from the retelling of great achievement and great art.

Nänie – sometimes translated as ‘Nenia’ - means threnody: a dirge or song of lamentation. Brahms takes an elegiac approach, thereby elevating his Nänie to a higher plane, one whose message is more philosophical and less grim. Biographer Hugh MacDonald calls it “possibly the most radiant thing he ever wrote.” After an opening fugal entrance beginning with the sopranos, the setting is free. The chorus sings almost constantly, and audience attention to text and translation is richly rewarded.

The score calls for woodwinds in pairs, two horns, three trombones, timpani, two harps, mixed chorus, and strings.

Serenade No. 1 in , Op. 11 Johannes Brahms

First performances by the Wichita Symphony

Brahms waited a long time to issue his first symphony. He started work on it when he was barely out of his 'teens, but struggled with the piece for two decades before he was sufficiently satisfied. Along the way, he published other major works that were key steps toward his mastery of the symphonic idiom. Best known among these works are the No.1 in , Op. 15 and the Variations on a Theme by Haydn, Op. 56a. Brahms worked on the concerto from 1854-58, publishing it in 1861; it actually incorporated some material initially intended for a symphony. The so-called "Haydn" Variations (1873, published 1874) are generally regarded as the principal stepping-stone that gave Brahms the orchestral confidence to complete his long-gestating First Symphony in 1876.

Equally important in the evolution of Brahms's orchestral mastery are the two early , Op. 11 and Op. 16. While their titles and six-movement length distanced them from the idea of a symphony, both Serenades provided Brahms with important opportunities to explore unusual timbral combinations and experiment with the unique colors of the woodwind family. In that respect, they contributed significantly to the young genius' stylistic development.

The First Serenade began life as a nonet (that is, a chamber work for nine players) for , two , horn, and string quartet. No appeared in that early version, and Brahms retained the emphasis on clarinets when he expanded the score. He next arranged it for chamber orchestra, then added trumpets (but not trombones) and timpani for the full orchestra version. It shares the key of D major with the Second Symphony, certainly the most pastoral of Brahms's four symphonies. Although the Symphony, Op. 73, is a much later work, there is a commonality of relaxed spirit that is surely not entirely coincidental; it is especially noticeable in the slow movements to each work. Like the later Symphony, this D major serenade is filled with simple, innocent melodies.

At six movements and approximately 40 minutes, the Serenade is a hefty work, approaching symphonic dimensions. With two /Trios and one pair of Minuets, however, it retains a strong link to entertainment music. At the same time, the dance-like character allies Op. 11 to the 18th-century models to which Brahms was paying homage. In one sense its roots are in Baroque suites, but there are stronger connections to Mozart's lighter music, including not only Serenades but also Cassations and Divertimenti. Even the Beethoven Septet, Op. 20, falls into this category, and Brahms was certainly well acquainted with those pieces. Indeed, the fifth movement Scherzo is filled with quotations from and allusions to several of Beethoven's works, including the Septet, the first two symphonies and the so-called "Spring" sonata for violin and piano. The careful listener will also recognize allusions to some well-known choral formulae in Handel's Messiah.

Yet the Serenade is unmistakably Brahms, and could hardly be called derivative. Musicologist Bernard Jacobson singles it out as a "compendium of the essential Brahms." He cites the frequent canonic imitation, particularly in the opening Allegro molto; rhythmic innovation, and Brahms's inimitable gift for texture. Oddly, the Serenade was poorly received at its Hanover premiere in 1860, and took a while to make friends. As Brahms's biographer Malcolm McDonald observed:

What his contemporaries found tedious and labored, modern audiences are finally discovering to be rich and leisurely, delivered at a length as `heavenly' as that for which Schubert is customarily praised.

Program Notes by Laurie Shulman ©2016 First North American Serial Rights Only