University Orchestra Old Tunes in New Bottles

Tuesday, October 10, 2017, at 8pm Lagerquist Concert Hall, Mary Baker Russell Music Center Pacific Lutheran University School of Arts and Communication / Department of Music presents

University Symphony Orchestra Old Tunes in New Bottles Huw Edwards, conductor Anna Jensen, double bass

Tuesday, October 10, 2017, at 8pm Lagerquist Concert Hall, Mary Baker Russell Music Center

Welcome to Lagerquist Concert Hall. Please disable the audible signal on all watches, pagers and cellular phones for the duration of the concert. Use of cameras, recording equipment and all digital devices is not permitted in the concert hall.

PROGRAM

Prelude to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg ...... (1813-1883)

A Shropshire Lad, Rhapsody for Orchestra ...... George Butterworth (1885-1916) Moderato, molto tranquillo—Poco animato—Largamente

Méditation Hébraïque, for Bass and String Orchestra ...... Ernest Bloch (1880-1959) Moderato—Allegro—Tempo I Anna Jensen, double bass

INTERMISSION

Symphony No. 5 in D Minor, op. 107 (“Reformation”) ...... (1809-1847) Andante—Allegro con fuoco Allegro vivace Andante— Chorale: Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott! Andante con moto—Allegro maestoso

Program Notes

Richard Wagner first sketched ideas for an opera on the German tale of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg in 1845, though it was not until 1860 that he began in earnest on this epic stage work. Between the years 1848-60 Wagner was in exile from Germany—spending a good deal of time Paris—and the regal C-major music for “The Masters” came to him while traveling from Venice to Vienna. All opera is sung but the gratifying and marvelous appeal about this particular opera is it focuses on the art of singing, the importance of singing and how poetry and music combine into an unforgettable and mesmerizing synthesis. The Mastersingers is Wagner’s only comedy—though it is far from a frolicsome rib-tickler—and it is one of the finest-crafted pieces in the entire repertory. It is different from Wagner’s other music dramas, like The Ring or (with their emphasis on gods, dwarfs, mythology, and ancient legends) as the characters are very “human” in an identifiable domestic setting. Having said that, Wagner does treat the opera’s central character, Hans Sachs, like a god—as the community worships him for his wisdom and loyalty to “Holy German Art”. (The Act III music praising Sachs concludes this Prelude.) The softer, more chromatic music portrays the love of Eva and Walther, and the Prelude contains many passing references to Walther’s famous “Prize Song”, as well as satirical fragments portraying the curmudgeonly town clerk, Beckmesser. There is a magical moment—after the central climax—when Wagner telescopes and superimposes the three principal themes all at once, before the brasses and cymbals carry the Prelude to its grandiose conclusion.

Having attended the Royal College of Music in London as an organ scholar—where he assisted Cecil Sharp and with their research into English folk music—George Butterworth returned to his native Northeast England. A meticulous craftsman, Butterworth only produced a handful of works, including a song-cycle A Shropshire Lad—after the tragic, eerily-prophetic war poems by A.E. Housman—in 1912. The following year Butterworth produced this ravishing and evocative “Rhapsody for Orchestra”, which utilizes several themes from his Housman songs, especially “Loveliest of Trees” and “Grief”. This ten-minute piece illustrates the influence of Sibelius, Elgar and Vaughan Williams—who dedicated his Second Symphony to the young Butterworth. It is painfully ironic that Butterworth was drawn to Housman’s regret-filled poetry, as he enlisted in the Durham Light Infantry and was killed at the Battle of the Somme in 1916 when only 31. Butterworth destroyed many of his manuscripts before going to the front and he predicted the unlikeliness of his return from the Great War. At the close of A Shropshire Lad Butterworth quotes a theme from one of his Housman settings, “With rue my heart is laden, for golden friends I had”, as if he knew this work would constitute his own epitaph. As Kenneth Loveland remarks, “Nothing could be further from the agony of war than this music…it sings back to the tranquil landscape from which it grew.”

The Méditation Hébraïque by Ernest Bloch was originally written for cello and piano in 1924, but this evening we hear it transcribed for double-bass and string orchestra. The piece opens with a long recitative for the soloist before a theme (Moderato) is shared with the orchestra. An agitated middle section (Allegro deciso) allows the orchestra their full voice, before the soloist returns and transports us back to the slumberous and meditative music which opened this short but potent work.

Although Felix Mendelssohn came from a famous Jewish family he received a Christian baptism and upbringing. Like Bach before him—a composer he did much to champion—Mendelssohn was a devout Lutheran. 1830 marked the tercentenary of the “Augsburg Confession” and Mendelssohn was understandably inspired by this pious and august occasion to compose a celebratory Symphony. Although it became the Fifth in order of publication (op. 107), the Reformation is actually Mendelssohn’s second in chronological sequence. The Reformation Symphony was not written to order but was composed in 1829-30 when Mendelssohn returned to Germany from his musically-fruitful travels around Great Britain. For political and religious reasons the celebrations did not take place in 1830 and the Symphony had to wait until 1832 for its first performance. The work did not draw much blood at the première; it was divorced by two years from the circumstances it was celebrating but it was also viewed as being “backward and lackluster” when compared to Mendelssohn’s other symphonic works from this period.

The Reformation Symphony opens with a solemn introduction appropriate to the commemoration that provided the work’s catalyst. At the end of the introduction the strings play the Catholic “Dresden Amen” (which Wagner was to use and idealize as the “Grail Motif” in his ultimate work, Parsifal). The Allegro con fuoco reverts to the Stygian darkness of the opening, the music becoming more turbulent as blocks of competing sonorities are pitted against each other. A Sturm und Drang intensity infuses the busy string scales, around which fragments of earlier cells are traced by the winds. At the end of the development, the “Dresden Amen” makes a sudden and stunning appearance. A Scherzo (B-flat major) is placed second, a delightful movement that reportedly suggests the joy of the Protestant people. The deft, filigree writing and passages of corporate mirth recalls Mendelssohn’s incidental music for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The G major trio section is even more rustic—the oboe duet and teasing cross-rhythms sound like a Bavarian yodel dance, in keeping with the Symphony’s Augsburgian roots. The Andante is very brief indeed, a “song without words” in G minor that allows some romantic reflection after the energy and rhythmic drive of the first two movements. It links directly to the finale, which opens with the flute intoning Luther’s chorale Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott (“A mighty fortress is our God”). It should be remembered that at this time, Mendelssohn was reviving Bach’s works—with proselytizing zeal, including the St. Matthew Passion, which he conducted and rescued from obscurity in 1829—and he knew Bach’s Cantata No. 80 based on the same Lutheran chorale. After an earthy transition in the strings, the Ein’