New York Philharmonic ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINTH SEASON 1970-71 Wednesday Evening, January 20, 1971, at 8:30 7951st Concert GALA PENSION FUND BENEFIT CONCERT Daniel Barenboim, Conductor ARTUR RUBINSTEIN, Pianist WEBER Overture to “Euryanthe” BEETHOVEN Concerto No. 4 for Piano and Orchestra, G major, Opus 58 I Poco sostenuto; Vivace ( II Andante con moto (III Rondo: Vivace ARTUR RUBINSTEIN INTERMISSION BRAHMS Concerto No. 1 for Piano and Orchestra, D minor, Opus 15 I Maestoso II Adagio III Rondo: Allegro non troppo ARTUR RUBINSTEIN Mr. Rubinstein plays the Steinway Piano Assistance in underwriting of the costs of presenting this concert has been provided by The Julia D. Steinway Fund. Steinway Piano Columbia Records In consideration of the performing artists and members of the audience, those who must leave before the end of the concert are asked to do so between numbers, not during the performance. The taking of photographs and the use of recording equipment are not allowed in this auditorium. The Julia D. Steinway Fund was recently established by the Society in memory of Mrs. Frederick T. Steinway, one of the most beloved personalities in the musical life of New York and a patron of the arts long active in New York Philharmonic affairs. Mrs. Steinway was a member of the Philharmonic’s Auxiliary Board from its inception in 1923 and a Director of the Society from 1934 until her death in 1958. The setting up of the Fund was made possible by an initial contribution from The Steinway Founda­ tion, Inc., to which the Society is most deeply grateful. Notes on the Program By EDWARD DOWNES Overture to “Euryanthe” CARL MARIA von WEBER Born November 18, 1786, Eutin, Oldenburg; died June 5, 1826, London. 6 6 IVI Y RECEPTION> when 1 appeared in the orchestra, was the most enthusiastic and IVI. brilliant that one could imagine,” wrote Weber to his wife the day after the première of his Euryanthe. “There was no end to it. At last I gave the signal for begin­ ning. Stillness of death. The Overture was applauded madly, and there was a demand for a repetition; but I went ahead so the performance might not be too long or drawn out.” The epochal success of Der Freischiitz in Berlin had earned Weber a commission for the Karntnertor Court Opera in Vienna. Weber began his Euryanthe in 1821 and worked at it, with interruptions, for nearly two years. He composed the Overture between Sep­ tember 1 and October 19, 1823. The première of the opera on October 25 was extremely successful. Despite the opposition of the Italian faction, which dominated the Viennese Court Opera, there were 20 performances in the first season. But after the first season, Euryanthe was handicapped by its foolish libretto. On the other hand, the brilliance, spontaneity and imaginativeness of the music have aroused enthusiasm whenever the opera has been revived. Schumann was enchanted by it. “This music is too little known and appreciated,” he wrote in 1847. “It is heart’s blood, the noblest he had, and this opera certainly cost him a part of his life; but he is also immortal. It is a chain of sparkling jewels from beginning to end—all brilliant and flawless. How splendid the character­ ization of certain figures such as Eglantine and Euryanthe—and how the instruments sound! They speak to us from the innermost depths.” Euryanthe took long to cross the ocean. The first clearly documented performance here was at the Metropolitan Opera House on December 23, 1887, under the direction of Anton Seidl. Lilli Lehmann sang the title role in a distinguished cast including Max Alvary, Marianne Brandt and Emil Fischer. The most recent Metropolitan performance in December, 1914, was conducted by Arturo Toscanini. The Overture has always been popular in the concert hall. It opens with a brilliant flourish for full orchestra, Allegro marcato, con molto fuoco. The brass and woodwinds Notes on the program copyright © The Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York, Inc. 1971. All rights reserved. Notes on the programs may not be printed in their entirety without the written consent of the Philhar­ monic; excerpts may be quoted if due acknowledgement is given to the author and to the Philharmonic. SUBSCRIBERS ARE EARNESTLY REQUESTED when unable to use their tickets, to return them to the Philharmonic Subscription offices, Broad­ way at 65th Street, or call 799-9595 to place them on sale. Such tickets will enable some of the many people who wish to attend concerts to do so when tickets would otherwise not be available, and their sale benefits the Philharmonic’s Pension Fund. Tickets that are returned will be acknowledged and constitute income tax deductions as provided by law. We hear it first in the hushed voice of the piano, unaccompanied. The orchestral strings answer softly, as if from a far distant key—a Romantic color effect which still sounds as fresh as if it had not been imitated through the hundred years that followed. By way of gentle contrast, the first violins, followed by a solo oboe, sing a more lyric, lilting phrase. Allegromoderato v 1st Violin* The piano solo returns, with an almost pensive cadenza-like passage, to join the orchestra in a restatement and development of the basic themes. One graceful phrase chases another across these melodious opening pages, and in spite of the stormy grandeur with which they are all developed, the sweeping arpeggios, the brilliant scales and sudden dynamic contrasts, this is supremely lyrical music from beginning to end. II. Andante con moto. The striking dialogue between orchestra and piano in this movement was once compared by Franz Liszt to Orpheus taming the wild beasts. Beet­ hoven’s orchestra may not be exactly a wild beast, not in this movement anyway, but the harsh peremptory octaves in which it speaks, and the soft, pleading phrases with which the piano replies might easily have been inspired by the thought of Orpheus sup­ plicating the powers of the underworld. Gradually the stern voice of the orchestra melts, the octaves dissolve into harmony, and at the very end, orchestra unites with solo in a little sigh of acquiescence. The last movement follows without pause. III, Rondo: Vivace. The melancholy spell of the Andante is broken by whispering strings in the following vivacious theme, the refrain of the Rondo finale: The piano answers with graceful variants of the string phrases. But after this discreet be­ ginning, the orchestra tutti bursts in with a boisterous repetition of the refrain, and the Rondo turns out to be full of surprises. The violence of its gaiety, following the deep shadows of the slow movement, recalls the stories of Beethoven’s sudden fluctuations of mood when improvising for his friends. Sometimes, when he had finished and turned around to find his listeners shattered, overwhelmed with emotion, he would burst into a roar of laughter. “We artists don’t want tears,” he would mock, “we want applause.” The finale is rich in sudden contrasts. It charms, it blusters, it crackles, and after the grand flourish of the cadenza and some humorous afterthoughts, it launches into a triumphant presto, with the obstinate refrain still dominating the grand orchestral frenzy. The Fourth Piano Concerto is scored for 1 flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, kettledrums and the standard string choir., Concerto No. 1 for Piano and Orchestra, D minor, Opus 15 JOHANNES BRAHMS Born May 7, 1833, Hamburg; died April 3, 1897, Vienna. rahms was a pianist from his earliest, child-prodigy years. Yet with all his early facility, his approach to the piano had something orchestral about Bit, and this shows in his compositions. Robert Schumann spotted this quality when the obscure twenty-year-old first ventured to visit him. In the privacy of the Schumann home, with only the master and his wife, Clara, as audience, Brahms played his own music. Maestoso “Sitting at the piano, he began to disclose wonderful regions to us,” wrote Schumann barely a fortnight later in a famous article of October 28, 1853, Adagio entitled “New Paths” (Neue Bahnen). Schumann’s tribute continued: Rondo: Allegro non troppo Besides, he is a player of genius who can make the piano an orchestra of lamenting and loudly jubilant voices. There were sonatas, veiled sym­ phonies rather; songs the poetry of which would be understood even without Artur Rubinstein words . every work so different from the others that it seemed to stream from its own individual source. Should he direct his magic wand where the massive powers of chorus and orchestra may lend him their forces, we can look forward to even more wondrous glimpses of the secret world of spirit. His fellow musicians hail him on his first step through a world where wounds perhaps await him, but also palms and laurels. In him we welcome a strong champion. It was generous, heartfelt praise, intended to smooth the way for a man whose genius was every bit as great as Schumann believed. But Brahms seems to have had less confidence in his own powers than Schumann. It was nearly a quarter of a century before he produced his first symphony. What was to have been his first symphony turned into the D-minor Piano Concerto. It first took shape as a sonata for two pianos, which Brahms brought to show to Schumann’s pianist wife, Clara. Together, they played the sonata through several times. Clara wrote in her diary: “It struck me as quite powerful, quite original, conceived with great breadth and more clarity than his earlier things.” Obviously, Brahms’ thought was orchestral, symphonic in scope.