{ program notes
Alon Goldstein
Alon Goldstein’s
musical intelligence,
artistic vision and innovative programming
have made him a favorite with audiences
throughout the United States, Europe,
and Israel. In recent seasons, Goldstein has
performed with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, St. Louis
and Vancouver symphonies, the Rhode
Island Philharmonic, and orchestras on
tour in Paris, Russia and Bulgaria.
His 2014–2015 season includes appearances with the Baltimore Symphony
Orchestra, Israel Chamber Orchestra,
George Enescu Philharmonic, New Jersey
Symphony Orchestra, Ars Viva Symphony
Orchestra and Symphony in C. He will
perform recitals in Washington, D.C, at
The Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts
in Chicago, The International Keyboard
Institute and Festival in New York,
Northeast Kingdom Classical Arts Series
and concerts throughout Israel, Canada
and Spain. He will perform in chamber
music roles with the Ariel Quartet, and in
nation-wide performances as part of both
the Goldstein-Peled-Fiterstein Trio and
Tempest Trio. An advocate for education,
Alon will participate in teaching engagements and extended residencies across
the country.
About the concert:
Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major,
K. 467
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Born in Salzburg, Austria, January 27, 1756;
died in Vienna, December 5, 1791
During the concert season of 1784–85,
Mozart was at the peak of his popularity
as a piano virtuoso in Vienna. And unlike
today’s concert pianists, he created his
own repertoire. From 1784 to 1786, the
continual demand for new works with
which to dazzle his audiences brought forth
12 of the greatest piano concertos ever
written — concertos in which Mozart was
not content simply to cater to popular taste.
Instead, he enjoyed stretching both himself
and his audiences, and his Piano Concerto
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in C Major, K. 467 is a splendid example
of his ability simultaneously to seduce and
challenge his listeners.
Even before Swedish director Bo Widerberg made its slow movement the theme
music of his film Elvira Madigan in the
1970s, this was one of the most popular of
Mozart’s concertos. But when it was premiered on March 10, 1785, the composer’s
father, Leopold, was so alarmed by its dissonance that he thought the overworked
copyist must have made an unusual
number of mistakes. After all, his son was
notorious for barely meeting his deadlines
and had just completed the score the day
before the premiere. But the notes were
correct. In the sublime slow movement,
Mozart demonstrated what the poet
Baudelaire put into words a century later:
“The Beautiful is always strange.”
This second movement is a soaring
aria sung by pianist and orchestra, always
hushed and breathing a nocturnal, dreamlike atmosphere. The orchestration is
exquisite: muted strings magically blended
with poignant woodwinds. But listen
closely: in this song without words, soothing consonances constantly tumble into
dissonances. Its harmonies always yearn
toward keys far from the home key of
F Major. And its gentle flow is troubled by
a nervous accompaniment.
Of course, this concerto also has two
other movements, and the first especially
matches the slow movement’s greatness.
Expansive and leisurely, it is a remarkably
subtle military march, with its stealthy
opening “a tiptoed march in stocking feet”
(Cuthbert Girdlestone). Listen for the
charming gesture of oboe, bassoon, and
flute gently beckoning the pianist onto the
stage for his first solo.
The finale is a comic-opera rondo with
a sly refrain and merrily mischievous
contributions from the woodwinds. Here
Mozart wakes his audience from the
yearning dream of his slow movement
and sends them home smiling.
Symphony No. 8 in C Minor
Anton Bruckner
Born in Ansfelden, Austria, September 4, 1824;
died in Vienna, October 11, 1896
Anton Bruckner is perhaps the most
misunderstood of the great symphonists.
In his own day, he confused both his
supporters—leading them to undertake
extensive editing of his works to make
them conform better to contemporary
norms—and his detractors, among them
the redoubtable Viennese critic Eduard
Hanslick who savaged most of his symphonies at their premieres. In our own day, a
significant number of concertgoers react to
him with incomprehension and boredom.
Labeled by his contemporaries “the
Wagner symphonist,” Bruckner actually
wrote symphonies that are anything but
the Romantic/Wagnerian celebration
of self. Instead they are spiritual quests,
homages to God in whom he fervently
believed and whom he sought to glorify in
his music. “Each of his symphonies is in
reality one gigantic arch which starts on
earth in the midst of suffering humanity,
sweeps up towards the heavens to the very
Throne of Grace, and returns to earth
with a message of peace,” writes biographer Hans-Hubert Schönzeler.
The man Bruckner was as unusual as
his music. Born in rural Upper Austria
to a family of sturdy peasant origins, he
was the latest bloomer of all the major
composers. His early life was devoted
to teaching and service as organist in a
series of local churches, including the
great Baroque abbey of St. Florian. With
great reluctance, he left his provincial
sanctuary for Vienna in 1868 at the ripe
age of 44. There he wrote his last eight
symphonies while building a legend at the
Vienna Conservatory as a belovedly eccentric teacher of music theory. So devout
a Catholic was Bruckner that students
recalled his interrupting classes to kneel
in prayer at the sound of the Angelus bell
from nearby St. Stefan’s Cathedral.
As Bruckner completed his Eighth
Symphony at age 63, he was at the peak of
his powers. In performances in Germany
and Vienna during 1885 and 1886, his
Seventh Symphony had brought him the
greatest acclaim of his career. In September 1887, convinced that he had created
his finest work, he sent the score of the
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