SAN DIEGO SYMPHONY A JACOBS MASTERWORKS CONCERT

May 20-22, 2016

RICHARD Idyll

FRANZ SCHUBERT Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759: Unfinished Allegro moderato Andante con moto

INTERMISSION

RICHARD STRAUSS (Fantastic Variations on a Theme of Knightly Character), Op. 35 Chi-Yuan Chen, Johannes Moser,

Introduction Theme: Don Quixote, the Knight of the Woeful Countenance Variation 1: The Adventure of the Windmills Variation 2: Battle with the Sheep Variation 3: Dialogue of Knight and Squire Variation 4: The Adventure with the Penitents Variation 5: The Knight’s Vigil Variation 6: The False Dulcinea Variation 7: The Ride through the Air Variation 8: The Adventure of the Enchanted Boat Variation 9: The Combat with the Two Magicians Variation 10: The Joust with the Knight of the White Moon Finale: The Death of Don Quixote

Siegfried Idyll Born May 22, 1813, Leipzig Died February 13, 1883, Venice

An understanding of Wagner’s lovely Siegried Idyll requires some knowledge of the details of that composer’s irregular personal life. In 1864, at the age of 51, Wagner began an affair with 27-year-old Cosima von Bülow, daughter of and wife of pianist-conductor Hans von Bülow. Wagner and Cosima’s daughter Isolde was born the following April, on the same day von Bülow conducted the first rehearsal of . All concerned agreed to keep details of the situation a secret, and the infant’s birth certificate listed von Bülow as the father, Wagner as the godfather. Cosima bore Wagner two more children, a daughter Eva in 1867 and a son Siegfried in 1869, and moved in with him in 1868. Finally, in 1870 – after a six-year relationship and three children – the couple was married. That fall, Cosima became aware that Wagner was working on a project he would not describe to her, and for good reason – it was to be one of the best surprises in the history of music. On Christmas morning, Cosima – asleep with eighteen-month-old Siegfried – awoke to the sound of music. Her husband had secretly composed and rehearsed a piece for small orchestra, and now that orchestra – arranged on the staircase leading to Cosima’s bedroom – gave this music its most unusual premiere. This music was not just a token of love and a Christmas present, but also a birthday present: Cosima had turned 33 a few weeks earlier. She treasured this music, which is full of private meanings for the couple: it is based on themes from Wagner’s (as yet unperformed) opera Siegfried, but it also uses a child’s cradlesong and other themes with personal meaning for Wagner and Cosima. Their private title for the piece was Idyll: they were living at Tribschen on Lake in Switzerland at the time, and Cosima felt that the music was an embodiment of their life and love in these years. When in 1878, pressed for cash, Wagner had the music published (under the now-familiar title Siegfried Idyll), Cosima confessed in her diary: “My secret treasure is becoming common property; may the joy it will give mankind be commensurate with the sacrifice I am making.” As good love music should be, Siegfried Idyll is gentle, warm and melodic. Listeners familiar with the opera Siegfried will recognize some of the themes, all associated with the young hero Siegfried: his horn call, the bird call from the Forest Murmurs sequence and others. Wagner also quotes, in the near the beginning, the old cradlesong “Sleep, Little Child, Sleep.” At its premiere, this music was performed on Cosima’s staircase by an orchestra of fifteen players, though the was around a corner and could not see Wagner conduct.

Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759: Unfinished FRANZ SCHUBERT Born January 31, 1797, Vienna Died November 19, 1828, Vienna

In the fall of 1822, Schubert began a new symphony. He quickly completed two movements and began a third, a scherzo. He sketched out 129 measures of this scherzo and took the time to orchestrate the first nine. And then he stopped. The following year Schubert sent the manuscript to his friend Anselm Huttenbrenner, probably as a gesture of appreciation for Schubert’s having been awarded a “diploma of honor” by the Styrian Music Society of Graz, of which Huttenbrenner was a member. And at that point Schubert apparently forgot about this symphony. He never mentioned it again. He never heard it performed. The manuscript sat on dusty shelves for four decades. In 1865 conductor Johann Herbeck visited the aged Huttenbrenner in Graz and inquired about the existence of any Schubert manuscripts, Huttenbrenner showed him the symphony, and Herbeck led the premiere in Vienna on December 17, 1865. It was an instant triumph, yet mystery continues to swirl around this music. Why did Schubert stop? Did he stop? (Some have suggested that Schubert actually completed this symphony and later used its finale in his incidental music to Rosamunde). And why should an “unfinished” (and forgotten) symphony have become one of the best-loved pieces ever composed? Despite its odd form – two moderately-paced movements instead of the customary four at different tempi – the Symphony in B minor is a fully satisfying musical and emotional experience. The Unfinished is built on some of the most singable tunes in classical music, yet Schubert can transform those melodies into dramatic music full of craggy attacks, epic monumentality and eerie silences. Schubert’s control of orchestral color is remarkable here, as well: three give this music unusual weight, but even more impressive are the many shades of instrumental color he achieves through his subtle handling of solo winds. Also striking is the ease of Schubert’s harmonic language: this music glides effortlessly between keys, sometimes with the effect of delicately shifting patterns of light. And through both movements runs a haunting, somber beauty. All alone, and double basses lay out the ominous opening of the Allegro moderato, marked pianissimo. But this turns out to be only an introduction; the movement proper begins as winds offer the long opening melody over skittering, nervous strings. Cellos sing the famous second subject, and then comes a complete surprise: Schubert ignores both these themes and builds the development on that dark introductory melody. That music explodes with unexpected fury, and what had seemed a “lyric” symphony suddenly becomes a very dramatic one. Then another surprise: Schubert recalls the themes of the exposition and closes on a subdued memory of the introduction. This movement is powerful, lyric, dramatic, beautiful – and utterly original. The second movement also proceeds at a moderate pace: Andante con moto. Once again, there are two principal themes – the ’ sweet opening phrase and a poised woodwind melody over syncopated accompaniment. And once again, this movement combines a granitic monumentality with the most haunting lyricism. A short development leads to a full recapitulation, and a beautifully extended coda draws this symphony to its calm conclusion. Such a summary may describe the Unfinished Symphony, but it cannot begin to explain its appeal. We may never know why Schubert did not complete more than these two movements, but the symphony’s unusual form has not kept it from becoming one of the most famous ever written, and few of the millions who have loved this music have ever considered it “unfinished.”

Don Quixote (Fantastic Variations on a Theme of Knightly Character), Op. 35 Born June 11, 1864, Munich Died September 8, 1949, Garmisch-Partenkirchen

In 1896, just after finishing , Richard Strauss set to work on a new project, one that would take him in entirely new directions. Strauss at first planned to write a tone poem based on events from ’ Don Quixote. But rather than writing a straightforward tone poem, Strauss made his task more complicated by casting his new work as a set of variations based on a collection of themes associated with Don Quixote, his sidekick and his idealized love Dulcinea. And then – to bring yet one more dimension to this music – Strauss conceived it as a virtuoso work for cello and orchestra, with the solo cellist cast in the role of Don Quixote. Strauss completed the score in December 1897, and the premiere took place on March 6, 1898, in Cologne, with Friedrich Grützmacher as soloist and Franz Wüllner conducting. Strauss had originally thought of Don Quixote as tone poem rather than a , and he intended that the solo cello part would be played by an orchestra’s principal cellist seated in his or her normal position at the front of the cello section. But the solo part is so spectacular that the piece soon became a favorite of the great cellists, who naturally preferred to be positioned in front of the orchestra, like a soloist in a concerto; Strauss himself eventually came to conduct Don Quixote with the cellist placed in front of the orchestra. But though Don Quixote has become one of the greatest works in the cello literature, we should not overlook the other players to whom Strauss assigns important solo roles in this music. The part of Sancho Panza is first announced by bass and tenor and thereafter undertaken mostly by the solo viola, which plays a very important (and very difficult) part as the Don’s long-suffering squire; at key moments the solo contributes to the portrait of Don Quixote. Don Quixote consists of an introduction, a statement of the principal themes, ten variations and a finale. Strauss made careful use of Cervantes’ masterpiece: he depicted only a few of the many incidents in the novel and felt free to alter their order in his own presentation. Curiously, Strauss left few indications in the orchestra score as to what each variation depicts. He always claimed to wish that audiences would listen to his works as pure music first and only then approach them as pictorial music. But Strauss left a lengthy description in the piano score, outlining each variation in great detail, and so it is possible to follow exactly what is “happening” at every moment of this music. The Introduction presents most of the important themes that will evolve across the span of Don Quixote. The soloists all remain silent here, and it is the orchestra that presents these themes. At the very beginning comes the little tune that will reappear in many forms, followed by a lilting idea for second violins that Strauss marks grazioso and a clarinet swirl followed by a three-chord cadence. (All of these will be associated with Don Quixote himself.) Soon the solo oboe sings a gentle melody depicting the Don’s idealized lady-love and patroness, the fair Dulcinea. mark his resolve to defend her, but quickly this noble beginning turns complex and dissonant as Quixote loses himself in dreams of knight-errantry – in Cervantes’ words, “through his little sleep and much reading, he dried up his brains in such sort, as he wholly lost his judgment.” The music reaches a point of shrieking dissonance – Don Quixote’s mind has snapped and gone delusional – and heroic fanfares break off in silence. Out of that silence, the solo cello is heard for the first time in the section titled Don Quixote, the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance: here the cello presents the Don’s themes, now in a minor key. Quickly we meet Sancho Panza, and it is no accident that we move to a major key for the genial sidekick: and tenor tuba sing a rustic duet that introduces the squire, and the viola quickly takes this up, going on and on like Sancho himself. With the main characters introduced, the music proceeds directly into Variation I, which brings The Adventure of the Windmills. Here Don Quixote and Sancho’s themes are sounded simultaneously as they head out for their first adventure. It comes immediately: Don Quixote mistakes windmills for giants and rides to the attack. The windmill’s blades turn slowly, and a sharp thump knocks the aged knight from his horse; he recovers slowly on thoughts of Dulcinea. Variation 2 is the famous Battle with the Sheep, where Quixote mistakes a flock of sheep for the armies of the evil Emperor Alifanfaron. Their bleating is memorably suggested by flutter-tongued minor seconds from the winds, while viola tremolos depict the cloud of dust they raise. Don Quixote charges into the flock, dispersing the terrified sheep and riding off in triumph as the shepherds howl. Longest of the variations, the third is the Dialogue of Knight and Squire: Don Quixote (here sometimes depicted by solo violin) speaks grandly of heroic deeds while Sancho chatters incessantly; finally the knight cuts him off with a violent gesture, and the two head off in search of new adventures. Variation 4 is The Adventure with the Penitents. The pair come upon a religious procession (solemn and brass chords) and ride to the attack; they are knocked flat and left lying in the dust as the procession fades into the distance. Variation 5 brings The Knight’s Vigil during which he ruminates on his ideals in the moonlight as soft winds blow in the background. Variation 6 (The False Dulcinea) opens with a jaunty oboe duet: the Don and Sancho have come upon three peasant girls, and Sancho convinces the knight that they are his beloved and her retinue, but they have been transformed by an enchanter. Don Quixote tries to pay homage to this coarse country girl, but the cackling girls flee in confusion. Variation 7 is The Ride through the Air, in which the Don and Sancho are convinced to mount a hobby horse, believing that it will carry them through the air; the wind howls around them, but the two remain firmly rooted to the earth. Variation 8 is The Adventure of the Enchanted Boat, in which the pair come upon an abandoned rowboat, and Don Quixote is certain that the boat was left providentially so that they can find new adventures. They ride out into the stream but head toward a weir, tip over, and fall in; once on shore, they wring out their clothes. (Pizzicato notes echo the water dripping from their sopping clothes.) Variation 9 is The Combat with the Two Magicians, in which they encounter a pair of Benedictine monks chatting happily as they come down the road (two in busy counterpoint); Don Quixote rides to the attack and sends the terrified monks fleeing. In Variation 10, The Joust with the Knight of the White Moon, a well-intentioned neighbor dresses as a knight, jousts with Quixote, and defeats him. The vanquished knight is sent home under orders to give up knight-errantry for a year, and the pounding pedal suggests his homeward journey in disgrace. In the Finale, the Don’s fevered imagination gradually clears (the dissonances heard during the first presentation of his themes are here resolved), but he is now an old and frail man. He recalls some of the themes associated with his adventures, and – in the cello’s beautiful final statement – Don Quixote dies quietly as a long glides downward. Don Quixote is not just one of the most successful of Strauss’ , it is also one of his greatest works. Strauss once claimed that he could set a glass of beer to music, and Don Quixote very nearly proves him right; his biographer Norman Del Mar has shown how virtually every note in this score pictures a particular feature of Don Quixote and his quest. If Strauss’ music can on occasion get caught up in its own wit and bombast, Don Quixote is suffused throughout with a level of understanding that is both humorous and humane. Strauss may have set out to write a tone poem that would re-tell the story of one of the greatest characters in literature, but he achieved much more: in its difficulty and brilliance, Don Quixote is (along with the Dvořák Cello Concerto) one of the two greatest works ever written for cello and orchestra. -Program notes by Eric Bromberger

WHY THIS PROGRAM? by Dr. Melvin G. Goldzband, Symphony Archivist Jahja Ling commented, “Every time I do Richard Strauss, I feel a special bond to the music. Perhaps that is due to my teacher at Yale, Otto Werner-Mueller, who had played in the Frankfurt Opera Orchestra when Strauss was its conductor. He passed on to all his students the tradition taught him firsthand by Strauss himself, and I treasure that tradition. Don Quixote, however, is special because it is one of the few of his tone poems that is really not about himself. Instead, Strauss populated it musically with numerous characters, all important to the Cervantes story. All of those characters, represented by specific instruments, must play in so many different styles depending on the story. Specifically, the solo cello part is especially difficult. The instrument must represent a character whose ideation and personality change so frequently, and whose imagination is spread from here to there due to his delusions. The Don/cello must therefore play in so many styles, and with a range varying through the spectrum from bass to soprano ranges. And at the end, the cellist must be able to break the listeners' hearts with the Don's final breath.” Proceeding to the rest of the program, he noted, “Surprisingly, even to myself, this is the first time I shall play the Siegfried Idyll here.” He recalled having been in Lucerne, and going to Wagner's home, Triebchen, and seeing how the composer fitted the special group of musicians into the hallway leading up to the stairs where his wife and newborn son rested. “I saw how Wagner did it. I used to love this piece to death. It certainly is one of the most unique pieces ever written, but it grabs the souls of the composer and the listener.” I asked the maestro why he had not programmed it here before. His response was, “I really needed to wait for the developed maturity of this orchestra. It requires special playing based upon the special feelings and capacities of the players. To segue, one might say the same for the Unfinished Symphony. Every cell in Schubert's body was filled with gorgeous melody, and the texture of the music he gave to this symphony is so simple and beautiful, but also so demanding in order to get to its heart.” In response to everyone's inevitable question about the piece, Ling opined, “It is finished. It's perfect as it is.” “I have to confess,” he suddenly said, “This is my favorite program this season. I'm so very comfortable with the first two pieces in the German tradition in which I grew up musically, and with the Strauss, too, that is such a challenge but is also from the same tradition that Strauss taught my teacher, and that my teacher taught me.” Performance History by Dr. Melvin G. Goldzband Wagner's Siegfried Idyll has been played by this orchestra seven times, beginning with Earl Murray's performance during its season 1961-62. Its seventh and most recent hearing here was during the 1993-94 season, under the guest direction of Enrique Diemecke, and it has been missed. The eternally, deservedly popular Unfinished Symphony by Franz Schubert has a long history with this orchestra, beginning in 1916 when Buren Schryock led its first hearing here with the original San Diego Symphony. Subsequently, Nino Marcelli led it with his San Diego High School Orchestra and followed it a couple of years later with its successor, the San Diego Symphony. One of his performances of this work was even broadcast coast-to-coast during the 1936 Exhibition season. In contemporary years, this symphony has been performed 14 times by this orchestra, beginning with Robert Shaw's performance in 1953 and concluding (thus far – too long ago) with Yoav Talmi's reading in the 1992-93 season. David Atherton conducted the San Diego Symphony's first presentation of Strauss's glorious tone poem, Don Quixote, with Ralph Kirschbaum as soloist, during the 1985-86 season. Hans Graf conducted a third performance with the orchestra during the 1989-90 season. At that time, Lynn Harrell soloed as the tragic knight, repeating by request his performance of the preceding year. Most recently, Jahja Ling conducted a performance in the 2005-06 season with Cleveland’s (at that time) principal cellist, Desmond Hoebig.