LA Phil’s UPbeat Live! Pre-Concert Talk
To listen to the talk, press play below:
Concert Program April 28-29
Thomas Adès, Violin Concerto, “Concentric Paths”
TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 5
Los Angeles Philharmonic
Elim Chan, conductor
Leila Josefowicz, violin
Transcript of the pre-concert talk given on April 28, 2023, at Walt Disney Concert Hall
Hello and good evening! My name is Marc Gaspard Bolin and it is my great pleasure to welcome you all to another UPBEAT LIVE, here, at the beautiful Walt Disney Concert Hall, home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. Tonight’s program will feature two dynamic works: the first is Thomas Adès' Violin Concerto, "Concentric Paths," followed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 5, Op. 64—affectionately known as Tchaik 5. This won’t be the first time the LA Phil has performed the Adès or the Tchaikovsky. But it IS the first time they'll perform the two on the same program.
Much like selecting the perfect wine to go with your favored food dish to enhance the dining experience, today's pairing—I think—enhances our understanding and appreciation of both pieces. So, without further ado. Let's dig in!
Fifty-two-year-old, Thomas Adès, is a British composer and pianist who has become one of his generation's most prominent contemporary composers. Known for his flair for drama, humor, and creative use of instrumental color or timbre, Adès has composed numerous works for orchestra, chamber ensembles, and solo instruments, including operas, ballets, and even film scores. His orchestral music is marked by the same theatricality as his operas, characterized by vivid colors, uniqueness, and confidence. Concentric Paths," follows in the footsteps of his acclaimed opera The Tempest and employs a similar richly scored palette. It's Adès' Violin Concerto, "Concentric Paths," that we'll hear today.
"Concentric Paths" was co-commissioned by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra with funding from the philanthropists Lenore and Bernard Greenberg. It was composed for the violinist Anthony Marwood, who performed the world premiere with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe in Berlin on September 4, 2005. Today, we will hear from the masterful violinist Leila Josefowicz, who studied under Robert Lipsett and Jaime Laredo at The Colburn School and the Curtis Institute of Music, respectively. The Los Angeles Times called her a "daring, probing, thinking, and dancing, spectacularly virtuosic soloist"—wow, that's a lot of adjectives! She's known for her advocacy of contemporary works, has played with symphonies around the world, and has received numerous awards, including the prestigious MacArthur Fellowship in 2008—commonly known as a "genius Grant."
Conducting the piece will be Maestra Elim Chan, Donatella Flick LSO Conducting Competition winner at the age of 28—the first female winner of the competition—and former Dudamel Fellowship Program fellow, here, with the LA Phil in 2017.
Since its premiere, "Concentric Paths" has been widely performed and recorded by many notable musicians and orchestras, and has received critical acclaim and numerous awards, cementing its place as a masterpiece of contemporary classical music. The title, "Concentric Paths," refers to the idea of circles and circular motion, which is reflected in the music through repeating patterns and overlapping layers, creating a thrilling effect. The piece is known for its complex rhythms, intricate harmonies, and virtuosic violin passages. The piece consists of three movements, "Rings", "Paths", and "Rounds" each showcasing the virtuosic abilities of the solo violinist and the orchestra. Adès gave the Concerto the subtitle "Concentric Paths," and he explained that all three movements are "circular in design." We'll come back to the idea of circles/circular/and cyclic throughout this talk.
Adès employs the traditional three-movement structure of fast-slow-fast in his composition, but with a unique twist. He redefines the gravitational center by making the slow movement substantially longer than the other two movements combined. This creates a "triptych" of sorts, challenging the listener's expectations. The slow movement is divided into two main cycles and several smaller ones that interact with each other, sometimes in a conflicting manner, before leading to a resolution.
The composition's initial section, known as "Rings," opens with a rhythmic pattern for the violin, accompanied by absolutely stunning, high long tones in the winds and French horns—it’s glorious, really! Its energetic and rapid succession of notes create a series of unpredictable and often dissonant harmonies moving in various directions. Meanwhile, the underlying harmonies continuously churn. The use of the highest notes on the violin brings to mind Ariel's ethereal singing in Adès' The Tempest. The soloist's expressive urgency intensifies with frequent, abrupt interruptions in the music, which creates a deeply emotional and eloquent effect when the soloist's playing overlaps with the ensemble.
The movement features several themes, which are explored and developed throughout. Intricate rhythms, complex harmonies, and a sense of forward momentum characterize this movement. It builds to a climactic finish, with the violin soaring above the orchestra. Reminiscent of the violin concertos by Berg and Ligeti, which are played alternately between the violinist and wind instruments—continuous streams of arpeggios, spinning like a gyroscope in a state of dynamic balance. This creates a powerful and moving experience for the audience.
[PLAY]
The second movement of the composition, Paths, begins with a soft and mournful melody played by the violin, accompanied by gentle pizzicato strings. Its brittle, punctuated chords create a recurring structure similar to a Baroque chaconne. The movement features a variety of contrasting moods and textures, including a frenetic section characterized by rapid violin arpeggios and staccato string accompaniment and a melancholic section featuring a lyrical solo from the oboe. It's made up of two major and numerous minor cycles that operate independently and often come into conflict with each other, resulting in violent clashes and sensuous "rubs" that ultimately lead to a resolution. Like dancers quickly changing styles while simultaneously—and rapidly—altering partners on the dance floor in a fashion that reminds me, at least, of the gym scene from the 1961 film production of West Side Story.
The movement culminates in a hauntingly beautiful coda that brings the movement to a close. To me, this movement highlights, Adès' masterful ability to blend traditional classical forms with modern sensibilities, resulting in a work that is both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant.
[PLAY]
Following the emotionally charged slow movement, the finale, called "Rounds," is a lively and rhythmic section that features the solo violin and orchestra trading off musical ideas in a playful and virtuosic manner. Here, Adès utilizes cycles moving at varying rates. It's ethereal and delicate, yet bold and powerful. The violin's simple and melodious gestures disarm the listener, as it remains largely undisturbed by the cycles that revolve around it. The textures created by the overlapping cycles creates are, well, unexpected. A particular section towards the end demonstrates this rhythmic layering, where the soloist presents a slower rendition of the main theme, while the piccolo plays it at full speed in a higher pitch.
[PLAY]
Adès has named his work "Concentric Paths," which relates to the Concerto's structure. However, this phrase could also represent Adès' overall artistic style, which involves multiple energies acting simultaneously in both outward and inward directions.
Additionally, Adès incorporates a postmodern awareness of various styles ranging from Brahms, to Ligeti, to pop music, but he never loses his own unique identity in the process and deftly avoids pastiche. The concerto introduces a sense of sparseness and desolation at its core, representing a new and innovative direction for the composer.
In a 2020 interview with Gramophone's Peter Quantrill, Thomas Adès said, he likes “things to be shocking and transcendent." I feel, here, Adès hits the mark. I expect you will too.
Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 5, Op. 64 is one of the most celebrated works of classical music, and for good reason. Tchaikovsky's fifth symphony is a masterpiece—a triumph of emotional depth and musical innovation, showcasing the composer's mastery of orchestration and his ability to convey complex themes through music. Today, we're taking a deep dive into the power of fate in Tchaik 5, exploring its background, structure, and enduring appeal.
Composed in the summer of 1888, it premiered at the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg in November of that year, with Tchaikovsky himself conducting, it is a monumental work that spans four movements and over an hour of music. From the opening fanfare to the triumphant finale, Symphony 5 is a tour de force of orchestration and musical expression.
When it came to his Fifth Symphony, Tchaikovsky approached it with tremendous self-doubt, which was typical of his creative process. In a letter to his brother Modest in May 1888, he expressed concerns that his imagination had dried up and he had nothing more to express musically. Despite this, he still held on to some hope and gradually gathered material for a symphony.
Tchaikovsky was spending the summer of 1888 at a vacation residence he had built on a forested hillside at Frolovskoye, not a long trip from his home base in Moscow. There the composer worked on some of his most famous compositions, including the Symphony No. 5, the overture-fantasia Hamlet, the Six French Songs, Op. 65, the orchestration of the Overture-Fantasia by Herman Laroche, the ballet The Sleeping Beauty, and his opera The Queen of Spades. The idyllic locale proved conducive to inspiration and played a major role in helping him conquer his demons long enough to complete this symphony, which he did in four months!
Tchaikovsky made a habit of keeping his patron, Nadezhda von Meck, informed about his compositions through detailed letters. Mme. von Meck was a wealthy patroness and close friend of the composer. She supported Tchaikovsky financially for 14 years so that he could devote himself full-time to composition. Their relationship provided Tchaikovsky with moral support, financial stability, and artistic feedback. And thanks to this ongoing correspondence we have a good deal of information about how the Fifth Symphony progressed during that summer.
Interestingly, he never met von Meck because of her unusual condition for her charity work, which apparently demanded that they avoid any personal interaction—aside from written correspondence, apparently. Tchaikovsky had already made significant progress on the symphony when he brought up the topic with Mme. von Meck in a letter dated June 22, 1888.
He frequently mentioned the emotional backdrop of this piece in his letters, including themes of accepting fate, questioning providence, and experiencing dark thoughts. Although he expressed determination to prove to himself and others that he was still capable of composing by working hard on the symphony … but the beginning was difficult. However, he was now feeling inspired and hoped things would turn out for the best.
The composer himself admitted that "form management" was not his strong suit, and the Fifth Symphony—it has been argued—is somewhat of a patchwork, especially when compared to his previous symphony. He wrote of his Fifth Symphony, "the organic sequence fails, and a skillful join has to be made. . . . I cannot complain of lack of inventive power, but I have always suffered from want of skill in the management of form."
Russians were dealing with the idea of form during Tchaikovsky's time. See, there was a debate among Russian composers about the direction their music should take. Some believed in emphasizing folk tales and melodies, while others preferred the Western European classical approach. Tchaikovsky, however, drew inspiration from both and incorporated them into his compositions. This has led some critics to argue that his symphonies lack structure or development because of their ambiguity.
When Symphony No. 5 premiered, critics not only questioned the composer's conducting abilities but offered harsh criticism of being overly sentimental and trivial. Some critics have labeled him as a "master confectioner," like Allan Kozinn—music critic and culture reporter for the New York Times from 1977 to 2014. Critics of the day were even more merciless. An 1892 Boston review that compared the Finale to "a horde of demons struggling in a torrent of brandy." Tchaikovsky, as usual, believed the critics and wrote to von Meck in December.
[HE WROTE] "Having played my Symphony twice in Petersburg and once in Prague, I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure. There is something repellent in it, some over-exaggerated color, some insincerity of fabrication which the public instinctively recognizes. It was clear to me that the applause and ovations referred not to this but to other works of mine, and that the Symphony itself will never please the public." [END QUOTE]
However, I might suggest that tonality and ambiguity are integral to the emotional narrative of Tchaikovsky's work, and that his symphonies do indeed possess structure and development, despite not fully adhering to rigorous sonata form. It's difficult to imagine Russian classical music without Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's contributions. As a renowned Romantic composer, his works such as The Nutcracker ballet and Eugene Onegin opera were popular among national and international audiences due to their compelling melodies and rich orchestration. To me, Tchaikovsky deftly manages the work. And the orchestration…oh, the orchestration! Why is it that Ravel, Strauss, and in the Russian cannon, Rimsky-Korsakov and Stravinsky who get all the love?
The orchestral palette in the work is strikingly colorful, despite the composer's use of a relatively small classical orchestra: scored for 3 flutes (3rd doubling piccolo), 2 oboes, 2 clarinets in A, 2 bassoons, 4 horns in F, 2 trumpets in A, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, and strings. Even though Tchaikovsky felt a bit ashamed of the overt emotionality in the Fifth Symphony, it still doesn't quite reach the emotional depths of his Sixth.
To bring us back to the cyclical nature of the piece…Tchaik 5 is a cyclical work of art—cyclical, here, meaning a method—a musical construction technique—of creating music that includes several sections or movements, whereby a theme, melody, or thematic material is repeated in different movements to create a sense of unity. It's this term cyclical, that ties it to Adès' work. You see, Tchaik 5 features a recurring melody that is present through all four movements, starting darkly in a minor key with the tragic theme played by clarinet and ending triumphantly in major key. The theme of fate—woven throughout—is the defining feature of the piece.
From the opening bars of the first movement, we hear a recurring motif that represents fate: a four-note melody that is played by the clarinet and bassoon. This motif—commonly known as the "Fate" theme—is repeated and developed throughout the symphony and serves as a unifying thread that ties the piece together. Tchaikovsky's use of the fate theme is masterful, and he uses it to convey a sense of inevitability and tension.
Now, for you more astute listeners, let me clarify that the "Fate theme" in Symphony No. 5 is not the same as the one present in Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 4. … However, it's worth noting that fate appears to be a recurring theme in Tchaikovsky's oeuvre. In Symphony No. 4, the "Fate theme" is a specific recurring motif throughout the entire work. On the other hand, in Symphony No. 5, the "fate theme" is a melody—or melodic content—that undergoes a transformation, evolving as the symphony progresses. Both symphonies use fate as a thematic element, but it's important to understand that the themes themselves and the techniques used by Tchaikovsky are distinct.
The symphony opens with the clarinet playing the "Fate theme," backed by gloomy chords in the orchestra, setting the tone for the entire symphony. Remember, it’s this theme that unifies the symphony's four movements. Here, it has a funereal character, but the tempo picks up to an almost galloping rhythm as the music shakes off the forlorn mood. The musical pace progresses with increasing enthusiasm, introducing grand and vivid new melodies. The fast-paced melody is repeated and the last few notes of the section end with a subtle hint of foreboding—let's call it "Fate."
[PLAY "opening notes"]
The work's second movement begins with mournful chords accompanied by a sorrowful horn solo—one of the most beautiful in all the repertoire.
[PLAY "horn solo"]
The musical piece undergoes a captivating transformation as it progresses, building up the tension with each passing note. The oboe and the French horn engage in a thrilling duet, drawing the audience into the heart of the music. Soon, the clarinet echoes through the air, adding to the dramatic effect, before the bassoon makes its entrance, completing the ensemble with a flourish. The orchestra then fluctuates between feelings of sadness and optimism. The end of the movement is marked by the orchestra's entrance with a modified version of Fate; transformed, here, into a haunting waltz that is both beautiful and unsettling. This juxtaposition of beauty and darkness is a hallmark of Tchaikovsky's style.
The third movement is a light-footed waltz, as elegant as any of Tchaikovsky's, that begins in the string section and is answered by the reeds. After a lively and playful scherzo —some might say humorous, even…I guess that depends on your sense of humor. You'll hear a return to the waltz theme, before Fate once again delivers a low, ominous warning disguised in a courtly rhythm.
The fourth and final movement brings the work to a triumphant and thrilling conclusion.
It begins with the Fate theme transformed into an exultant march. However, this triumph is premature, as the orchestra bursts into another tempestuous minor-key section.
Now, don't be fooled…Tchaikovsky injects a little bit of fun into the ending. Let's give it a listen.
(PLAY FINAL “FAKE” ENDING)
Be careful! You don't want to be the one clapping here. Only after this frenetic clash of the symphonies' themes does this victorious mood return for good, with a short but unambiguously joyful coda.
Let's listen.
(PLAY FINAL CODA)
Now we can clap!!
In a cyclical work like a symphony, musical themes or motifs can be hard to hear because the music constantly changes and develops, making it difficult to isolate specific elements. Additionally, the repetition of certain themes or motifs may be disguised by variations in instrumentation, harmony, or rhythm. Furthermore, the length of a symphony can make it challenging for listeners to maintain focus and identify recurring themes or motifs. However, with repeated listening and familiarity with the piece, these elements become more apparent, allowing listeners to fully appreciate the symphony's cyclical structure.
I put together clips from each movement to make it a little easier for you to hear Fate as it unfolds and transforms through each movement. Would you like to listen to it now?
[PLAY "Transformation"]
Tchaikovsky's Symphony 5 is a masterpiece of classical music that continues to captivate audiences over a century after its premiere. The Fate theme, its innovative use of musical motifs, and its emotional power make it one of the most beloved pieces of music ever composed. Whether you are a seasoned classical music enthusiast or a newcomer to the genre, Tchaikovsky's Symphony 5 is a work that will surely move and inspire you.
Thank you all, and be well. Enjoy the show!