Overture Magazine - 2015-2016 Season January-February 2016 | Page 34

{ program notes
key associated with Nature, and B minor
/major, representing Humanity; just a
half step apart on the scale, these keys are
light-years apart harmonically. Listeners often strain to follow the program
sections and, since many of them flow
together, inevitably get lost. There are
certain clear mileposts that will help you
locate yourself, but generally it’s more satisfying simply to follow Strauss’ powerful
overall trajectory.
Prologue: Representing Zarathustra
on his mountaintop greeting the sunrise
before descending to man’s world, this epic
music opens with the most elemental of
motives: a solo trumpet intoning C-G-C,
an idea representing Nature that will reappear throughout the work. This rises to a
resplendent C-major chord.
Then the music darkens to minor and
descends from the mountaintop to a world
of fear and ignorance. This section, Von
den Hinterweltlern, refers to those who
seek meaning in religion and the promise
of the afterlife. Horns quietly quote the
Gregorian chant setting of the Christian
Credo, representing all religions. Strings
in 16 parts then sing a devotional hymn
of great beauty; this is the first of many
chamber-like passages that lighten the
texture of Strauss’ huge orchestra.
Von der grossen Sehnsucht — “Of the
Great Longing” — flows directly from the
hymn. A buoyant, optimistic theme leaps
more than three octaves from cellos to violins; it is the work’s second most important
theme, representing humankind’s aspiring
spirit. Here it decisively rejects religion,
represented by the organ intoning the
“Magnificat” chant.
Von den Freuden und Leidenschaften
—“Of Joys and Passions”— succeeds
without pause and introduces a passionate new melody. This section relates to
Nietzsche’s words: “Once you had passions
and called them evil. But now you have
only your virtues. … All your passions in
the end became virtues, and all your devils
became angels.” With its voluptuous chromatic downward scales, the music suggests
that Strauss’ passions tend strongly toward
the erotic. Toward the end, trombones cut
through with an impatient theme, representing Satiety or Disgust. The music then

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metamorphoses into mourning for
Das Grablied —“The Grave Song”—
a slow development of the “Passions”
and “Man’s Spirit” themes.
Von der Wissenschaft —“Of Science”
—provides a moment for listeners to find
their bearings. For science, Strauss chooses
the most learned of forms, the fugue,
and begins it in the depths of cellos and
basses. It is built from the C-G-C nature
motif followed by the outline of the other
polarity, B minor. Turgid and clouded by
thick chromatic harmonies, it provides
even less comfort than religion, and the
“Man’s Spirit” theme rejects it. The struggle
continues in Der Genesende —“The
Convalescent”— in which the fugue
returns and battles furiously with both the
“Spirit of Man” and “Disgust” themes.
This culminates in a grand restatement of
the Prologue’s C-major theme.
The next section contains some of Zarathustra’s most extraordinary orchestral writing: glittering music for high woodwinds
and glockenspiel setting up Das Tanzlied.
This “Dance of the Superman”— Zoroaster’s celebration of his enlightenment—
turns out to be a lilting Viennese waltz,
and Strauss was roundly criticized for his
frivolous choice. But for him, the waltz represented the universal spirit of the dance.
As the dance reaches its apotheosis,
12 bell strokes cut through the texture,
introducing Das Nachtwandlerlied
— “The Night-Wanderer’s Song”—
Nietzsche’s culminating poem (“O Man!
Take Heed!”). Now the music closes in a
quietly shocking epilogue. As violins and
high woodwinds soar to a radiant B-major
chord, humanity’s key, trombones and
plucked low strings stubbornly interject
Nature’s clashing C major. Humankind’s
enlightenment is never fully achieved,
Strauss seems to say, and Nature’s mysteries
persist despite our most fervent efforts.
Violin Concerto in D Major, opus 35

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Born in Votkinsk, Russia, May 7, 1840; died in
St. Petersburg, Russia, November 6, 1893

Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto belongs to
that illustrious group of masterpieces that

were savaged by uncomprehending critics
at their premieres. Nearly all the critics
at its first performance — in Vienna on
December 4, 1881 with Russian violinist Adolf Brodsky as soloist backed by the
Vienna Philharmonic — gave the work
negative reviews, but the one penned by the
notoriously conservative Eduard Hanslick
was so vicious it stung Tchaikovsky for
years after. “Tchaikovsky is surely no
ordinary talent, but rather, an inflated one
… lacking discrimination and taste. …
The same can be said for his new, long, and
ambitious Violin Concerto. … The violin
is no longer played; it is tugged about, torn,
beaten black and blue.” Hanslick demolished the finale “that transports us to the
brutal and wretched jollity of a Russian
church festival. We see a host of savage,
vulgar faces, we hear crude curses, and
smell the booze.”
Because of its flamboyant language and
mind-boggling wrong-headedness, this
is the review that has come down to us
from a city that was generally unsympathetic to Tchaikovsky’s Russian intensity.
A much fairer judgment of the concerto’s
worth came from the Wiener Abendpost:
“The first movement with its splendid,
healthy themes, the mysterious, quiet
middle movement … and the wild peasant dance make up a whole for which we
would claim an outstanding place among
contemporary compositions.”
Today, this piece holds an outstanding
place among all violin concertos. One of
the more demanding works fo