Program Notes for Upcoming Concert (Symphony & Chorus)

"Beethoven Looks East" by the Oak Ridge Symphony Orchestra, with the Felici Piano Trio

(8 p.m., Saturday, April 14, Oak Ridge High School Performing Arts Center)

By Mike Cates

Since the time of Marco Polo, many of the lands to the east and south of Western Europe were thought by many Europeans to be strange, a little foreboding, and very sensual. This was particularly true of the area that was under the religious sway of Islam and part of the Ottoman Empire. The music from these nations found its way into the European experience, aided significantly because great European composers loved to incorporate those exotic sounds into their own compositions. One of the most famous passages of this type, in the style of a Turkish march, is in the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, and the standard repertory is dotted here and there with other examples. The music we’ll hear tonight will have this “eastern tinge,” another reminder of how small this Blue Planet is and – despite how preoccupied with differences we can be – how much alike all the people who dwell on it really are.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) Overture and March of the Jannissaries from The Abduction from the Seraglio (K. 384, 1782)

The Abduction from the Seraglio (Die Entführung aus dem Serail) was Mozart’s first famous “Singspiel,” an opera written with spoken dialogue, essentially replacing recitatives. The music consisted of a series of set pieces, including arias and groups of voices. The libretto was in German, therefore understandable by the audiences, and built around the silly story of two men rescuing their lady lovers from a Turkish Pasha’s harem. However, a talent like Mozart’s could and did blend touching tragedy into the comedy to add a greater dimension to the musical tale. Mozart, indeed, had strong opinions about the combination of words and music in operas. He wrote: “I would say that in an opera the poetry must be altogether the obedient daughter of the music. Why are Italian comic operas popular everywhere – in spite of the miserable libretti? … Because the music reigns supreme, and when one listens to it, all else is forgotten. An opera is sure of success when the plot is well worked out, the words written solely for the music and not shoved in here and there to suit some miserable rhyme ... The best thing of all is when a good composer, who understands the stage and is talented enough to make sound suggestions, meets an able poet, that true phoenix; in that case, no fears need be entertained as to the applause – even of the ignorant.”

The Ottoman Empire was one of the most enduring empires in history, lasting from 1299 to 1923. It was centered in Turkey and remained an ever-present threat to Christian Europe, especially the nearby areas of Germany and Austria. Jannissaries were infantry units that formed the household guard for the Ottoman Sultan’s family. They were made up of boys taken from influential Christian families in conquered areas, and the young men were given special privileges and training in return for the stability produced within the society because of their enduring ties to their families. During the last part of the 18th century in Vienna, there was a strong fascination with all things Turkish, something which Mozart accommodated well in this opera. He created a “German” version of Jannissary band music and used it with particular effect in both the overture and the march heard in this concert.

Kamran Ince (b. 1960) Domes (1993)

Kamran Ince is an American, born in Glendive, Montana, but at the age of six he moved with his family to Turkey. When he was ten years old, he entered the Ankara Conservatory, where he began studying cello, piano, and composition. Later, he continued composition study at Izmir University and then returned to the United States, where he continued his studies at Oberlin College and Eastman School of Music, completing his doctorate there in 1987. He is another representative example of the American "melting pot" of cultural blending that has so enriched our age. As a composer, Ince is highly regarded and honored. Among his awards are a Prix de Rome, a Guggenheim fellowship, and the Lili Boulanger Memorial Prize. He is a member of the faculty at the University of Memphis, where he co-directs the University of Memphis Imagine New Music Festival, and he is founder and director of the Center for Advanced Research in Music at Istanbul Technical University.

We are fortunate to have the composer’s own comments about his work for this concert. “The initial gut feeling for Domes started to emerge after being on a rooftop in Rome, where I lived for a year, and looking at the domes around me. Consequently, this made me think of Istanbul, Turkey, where I grew up and where I always felt mesmerized by the magnificent views of the domes there. Of course, these domes in Rome and Istanbul are part of the churches and mosques that are probably the greatest creations of the Christian and Muslim worlds. What was interesting, though, was that I was not hearing church bells or sermons in association with these domes – I was hearing a peculiar, peaceful silence. The music came out of this peculiar silence. I was feeling a little religious, in a general way, and mysterious. At times while writing the music for Domes, I felt as if a hand was helping me from above. I also felt I had to be in a certain type of mood when I was writing, and if I was not in that mood, I did not write. Frequently I had to wait a couple of days. I am bilingual, having lived half my life in a predominantly Christian world, and the other half in a predominantly Muslim world. Domes is very slow and washes the listener in string sounds, with other instruments providing a touch of accompaniment. An organically interrelated nocturne of dipping suspension-bridge design, the mood throughout is of spiritual obsessiveness, ever-descending lines searching for something, trying to feel what they are searching for, to seek out what they are feeling, rather like whirling Sufi dervishes.”

Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809) Symphony 100 in G Major “Military”

Joseph Haydn was a wheelwright’s son who, through diligence and good fortune, became the most famous and successful composer of his day. He never forgot his working class roots and was greatly admired for his gentle and good humor, as well as his musical creativity. If he had died as early in life as Schubert or Mozart, we might never have heard of him. His success came from hard work and from being a continuous student. He is justly famous for the works of his mature years, which make up the largest collection of successful symphonic and chamber music ever written. He is often called both the father of the symphony and the string quartet, because he basically invented and developed structural forms for both musical types. His model was used and taken off from by Mozart, Beethoven, and essentially all composers since. His last 12 symphonies, written under a generous commission from England, are called the London Symphonies and are his most enduring works, each a classical masterpiece. The eighth in this series, Symphony 100, was given the title “Military” because of the fanfares and percussion effects in the second movement.  

The symphony opens with a slow introduction, common in classical symphonies. This one has hints of tunes that appear later in the movement. The Allegro proper begins with a lilting theme scored only for flutes and oboes. The strings repeat the theme an octave lower. The transition that follows begins with the first theme transposed, then briefly developed before the violins bring in a new subject. The exposition (presentation of the themes) is brought to a close by the full orchestra, and then the development section (where pieces of thematic material are worked in in various ways) begins with a grand pause. After the development, involving various changes in key, comes the recapitulation (expressing the main themes again), this time using the full orchestra for the second theme that had first been played by the strings. The movement concludes without a coda. The "Military" second movement, which is in three sections, employs what were called “Turkish instruments,” namely, triangle, cymbals and bass drum. These make their appearance in the central minor section. The movement ends with a long coda with a bugle call for solo trumpet, a roll of the timpani – an unusual adaptation of the normal use of the instrument – followed by a loud outburst. The third movement minuet is slower than Haydn’s usual construction; the Moderato pace is more like that of an old-fashioned aristocratic dance. The primary theme of the finale became popular in its time. Here there is also a development section. Listen for the surprise timpani strike and a movement through a number of keys, and then near the end for the return of the “Turkish” instruments that provide their color the rest of the way.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) Concerto for Piano, Violin, Cello and Orchestra, also known as theTriple Concerto (Op. 56 )

If you ask people to describe what they like about works in the “classical music” repertory, usually they will say something about the melodies. The themes are, for the most part, what we remember about most composers. Yet experts of many kinds recognize that Beethoven’s finest works, the grand masterpieces from his final years, are less about melody than about atmosphere, feeling, and probing into the depths of something fundamental about the universe itself. The falls into the category of neglected works, possibly because its melodies don’t rank in people’s minds up there with those of the five piano concertos and the violin concerto. Within this masterpiece, however, are the resonant beginnings of Beethoven’s quest to transcend the superficial and delve into the lode of musical wealth that lies within the structure itself. In it he took on the challenge of relating three solo parts to the orchestra, while maintaining awareness of the relationships of instruments within the solo group. Donald Tovey (1883-1964), the famous English musical historian, believed that a work with several solo instruments could succeed only if the themes are not "such as to attract attention to themselves." Bernard Jacobson, former program annotator and musicologist for the Philadelphia Orchestra, wrote, “The Triple Concerto's themes are conventional formulas that give the soloists room to spread their expressive wings and impose their individuality on the music."

The Triple Concerto, in C major, was composed between 1803 and 1804, about the time Beethoven was creating the Waldstein Sonata, the Appasionata Sonata, and the Eroica Symphony. Plans for the concerto, in fact, are found in the last three pages of the Eroica sketchbooks. The first movement, the longest in any of his concertos, begins with the classical double exposition (themes first stated by the orchestra alone, then by the soloists.) The main theme is given in the cellos and basses, while the violins announce the second subject. The three soloists (the Felici Piano Trio, in this concert) then take up the main theme, beginning with the cello, then the violin, and finally the piano. The second movement, marked Largo, is brief and profound, like those found in the Piano Concerto No. 4, and the Waldstein Sonata. Tovey wrote that it "foreshadows that of the E-flat Concerto (the Emperor) in the dark and solemn tone color of its opening melody with the muted violins." The finale is surprisingly a polonaise – Beethoven looking east for the exotic. This form was popular in Vienna but one Beethoven used only three times in his career. The main theme, expressed first by the cello, contains an unusual key modulation. Later, there is another compositional surprise, when the meter changes from triple (the standard polonaise meter) to duple. There is a cadenza for the three soloists, after which the polonaise returns in its original rhythm, leading to the work's conclusion.

An Evening of Intimate Works bthe Oak Ridge Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, with Diane Pulte as mezzo-soprano soloist

By Mike Cates

Saturday, March 10, 2012, at 8 p.m., First United Methodist Church, Oak Ridge Turnpike at North Tulane Avenue

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In the Latin roots of our language, the word intimatus meant a close friend, someone who could draw out aspects of the depth of your personality. In very much the same way, music is an intimatus for many, a form of expression that reveals us, as listeners and performers, in ways and levels that other expressions of ourselves cannot. In this concert we explore and experience musical intimacy that reaches from the present deep into the formative past of Western music, illustrating a kind of timeless resonance of the human spirit with the beautiful, the mysterious, and the introspective.

Elena Ruehr (b. 1963) Shimmer (1995)

Elena Ruehr is a wonderful example of a 21st century composer of art music. She was raised in a small town in Michigan, the daughter of a mathematician and an English professor, both amateur musicians. She began piano lessons at age four and was mentored by skilled musicians in her hometown. She received a superb formal education, with specialized musical studies at the University of Michigan and The Juilliard School. She also studied modern dance and played in Javanese and West African performing ensembles. She is an avid reader and claims her creative output is “rooted in equal measure to a deep reverence for and connection to both literature and nature.” She has taught at MIT since 1991 and lives in Boston with her husband and daughter.

Among her orchestral works, Shimmer has received the most praise. It was commissioned by the Metamorphosen Chamber Ensemble, and continues – as in this concert – to be heard in many venues worldwide. The string writing indeed does shimmer, thus the name. Listen for the canonic patterns, reflecting back many centuries, in the very modern, bright orchestration. Very likely you will agree with the Washington Post comment: “She writes music with heart and forceful sense of character and expression.”


Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) Beatus Vir (1630)    [sung by the Oak Ridge Chorus]

Imagine yourself caught up in the spirit of the Renaissance bursting forth in Italian cities of the 17th century. The world of knowledge, ancient and ongoing, was opening up to those who were beginning to see the times in which they lived as rife with grander possibilities than those of the revered world of Greece and Rome that had been the standard in Europe by which all times had been judged. Into that heady mix came Claudio Monteverdi, a musician with unrivaled gifts. It was he who crafted the first important work of music and words that was called an “opera,” or Orfeo in 1607, which is sometimes performed even today. He revolutionized the music of the church and the theater with dramatic use of instruments, harmonies, and voices. In 1613 he became Master of the Music of St. Mark’s Church in Venice, remaining there the rest of his life as his fame spread throughout Europe.

Beatus Vir is a motet, a word derived from the Latin “movere,” meaning “to move,” indicating a vocal composition where parts “moved” with respect to each other. Beatus Vir, a setting of Psalm 112, is written for six voice parts and a small instrumental ensemble. It is an example of Monteverdi’s dramatic style, contrasting small groups of voices with full chorus. The harmonies are a step forward in musical adventure, intentionally bringing forth a new kind of expression into the musical experience of listeners and performers.


Franz Schubert (1797-1828) Mass in G (1815), D167  [sung by the Oak Ridge Chorus]

In all the history of Western music, there has been no greater creative genius than Franz Schubert. Though the beauty and profundity of his work was not well known during his short lifetime, his creative power began early and continued with growing brilliance until his death. Scholars point to the works of his final year – many of which he never heard performed – as being incomparable in the repertory, and bringing forth the question of what astonishing masterpieces he might have created had he lived even as long as Mozart, much less Beethoven. In this program we hear a mass written when he was eighteen, something he composed in five days during March 1815, providing a setting of the traditional text that is essentially perfect in form and effect. Schubert was interested in conveying an overall devotional mood, with little attention brought to his own musical distinction, and achieved it in a work of understated greatness that remains firmly within the sacred repertory, loved by singers and listeners alike.

This shortest and simplest of Schubert’s seven masses was written for the parish church in Lichtenthal, Austria, with its instrumentation intentionally structured for use in a small church with limited musical resources. Like Mozart and other intellectuals of his day, Schubert – even as a young man still in his teens – was not orthodox in his religious beliefs and could be well described as a “deist.” In this mass setting he did not use the traditional text Credo in unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam ("I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church"). Yet Schubert was a deeply religious man. In a letter to his father, he wrote, "People have wondered at the piety I express … which seems to move every soul and to dispose the listener to prayer. I think that is because I never force myself to pray and, except when devotion involuntarily overpowers me, I never compose that kind of hymn or prayer – when I do, then the piety I give voice to is genuine and deeply felt." As you listen to Mass in G, that piety speaks again, as it will on into the musical future.


Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Minor

These words were written by Bach to the Margrave of Brandenburg in 1721: “I have in accordance with Your Highness's most gracious orders taken the liberty of rendering my most humble duty … with the present concertos, which I have adapted to several instruments; begging Your Highness most humbly not to judge their imperfection with the rigor of that discriminating and sensitive taste, which everyone knows Him to have for musical works, but rather to take into benign consideration the profound respect and the most humble obedience which I thus attempt to show Him.” Nearly three centuries later, The Brandenburg Concertos, as they were to be called, are by far the most memorable use of the name of the small district near Berlin, and considered among the greatest works of the Baroque era. Each of the six is constructed for a different instrumental ensemble, representatives of the creative power of the man often regarded as being without peer in the history of music.

The Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 is different from the other five in that it has no well-defined solo group set off in contrast with the full orchestra. It has instead nine strings set off against continuo bass, the three violins, violas, and cellos all acting as soloists in turn within the varied and complex musical texture. This concerto is also unusual in that it is made up of only two fast moments, with the customary slow movement in the middle eliminated, replaced by two slow cadential chords. Some believe these chords were a signal for some improvised material to be played by one or more soloists, but there is no indication of such an intention in Bach’s score.  In the opening allegro the musical material is tossed around from one group to another. It is especially interesting to watch the performance, in which the viewer-listener can see the themes pass from violins to violas to cellos. The finale is a lively dance in gigue rhythm with two repeated sections, the second being three times as long as the first. Again Bach tosses motifs from one instrumental group to another, producing a non-stop, breathtaking musical flow.

Henry Purcell (1658-1695) “When I Am Laid in Earth” from Dido and Aeneas  [solo by Diane Pulte]

Dido and Aeneas is an opera in a prologue and three acts by the English composer Henry Purcell to a libretto by Nahum Tate, an Irish hymnist and poet who became England’s Poet Laureate in 1692. The libretto is based on Book IV of Virgil’s Aeneid, built around the love story of Dido, Queen of Carthage, and Aeneas, the Trojan War hero. Dido and Aeneas is considered a monumental work in Baroque opera, and Purcell's foremost theatrical work. Many scholars believe that great English music died with the death of Purcell, not to be revived again until the 20th century. (George Frederick Handel, though living in England during much of his creative life, is considered by many to be a German composer.) “When I Am Laid in Earth” more popularly known as “Dido’s Lament,” is the most famous of the opera’s vocal solos. With plaintive and touching simplicity, Dido sings, “Remember me, remember me, but ah, forget my fate.”

George Frederick Handel (1685-1759) Recitative – Arias “Furibondo spira il vento” from Partenope, and “Lascia ch’io pianga” from Rinaldo (1711)  [solos by Diane Pulte]

Handel, so deservedly famous as the creator of Messiah and other oratorios, actually first became well known as a composer and producer of operas in the Italian manner. Over 30 years he wrote 40 operas, many considered masterpieces of the Baroque style. Handel was born and educated in Germany, and received additional training in Italy. He moved to England in 1712, and became a British citizen in 1727. With the success of Messiah in 1742, he never again delved into opera. He died a highly respected and wealthy man.

In recent decades, many of Handel’s Italian operas have been staged by major opera companies around the world, with his arias, in particular, achieving considerable fame. Partenope is a comic opera, with “Furibondo spira il vento” (The wind is blowing furiously) coming in Act 2, sung by Arsace, prince of Corinth, who in the original productions was a castrato. The furious wind is evident in the long running passages. 

Rinaldo, the first Italian opera written especially for the English stage, is a story of love, battle, and redemption at the time of the First Crusade. “Lascia ch’io pianga” (Let me weep) is a soprano aria from the work that has become popular on the concert stage. Handel took the melody from a song he wrote as an Asian dance in his earlier opera Almira. This famous largo line has touched many a hearer, an expression of musical intimacy stretching forth nearly three centuries.

Saturday, Feb. 11, 2012, at 8 p.m., Oak Ridge High School Performing Arts Center, Oak Ridge Turnpike.

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Brundibar Children's Opera and Concert Featuring the Sound Company Children's Performing Choir and the Oak Ridge Symphony Orchestra

By Mike Cates

For three millennia, the traditions and culture of the people originally called Habiru, then Israelites, and finally Jews, have played a dominant role in the development of Western Culture. Along with that of the Greeks, the Hebrew view of the world and way of thinking and speaking have molded many of us on this planet into who we are today. No other cultural line has continued so long uninterrupted, yet it has often encountered severe and bitter opposition, especially from among other religious and cultural views that are, in fact, a part of its own heritage. Even today, anti-Semitism –- like racism –- continues to be one of the scourges that, despite our best efforts, survives to infect the gullible and disenchanted. Nonetheless, we continue to be honored and blessed by the wonderful achievements of those within our midst who are part of the Jewish identity. In the realm of music, this is especially true. In addition to the composers we’ll hear in this concert, Ernest Bloch and Hans Krása, we can also mention Erich Korngold, Gustav Mahler, Arnold Schönberg, Irving Berlin, Leonard Bernstein, George Gershwin, Carole King, Carly Simon, Danny Elfman, and Andre Previn, a tiny sample of many who continue to bring artistic beauty and meaning to our lives.

Ernest Bloch (1880-1959), Concerto Grosso No. 1 (1925)


Ernest Bloch was born in Geneva, Switzerland, and like many famous composers, was a gifted musician as a child, beginning to compose at about age 10. He studied at the conservatory in Brussels, undertook further study in Frankfurt, Germany, spent some time in Paris, then settled in the United States in 1916, becoming a citizen in 1924. Bloch produced a large repertory, including an extensive body of chamber works. In 1941 he moved to a small coastal community in Oregon, Agate Beach, where he lived the rest of his life. Some of his most famous works were written in a style labeled “Jewish expressionism,” but he composed his Concerto Grosso No. 1 as a kind of tribute to the craft of J. S. Bach. At the time Bloch’s daughter wrote that “they were skeptical when Bloch told them that one could still write alive and original music with the means that had existed for so long.' As proof, he wrote the Prelude of the Concerto Grosso. When it was first played, and with obvious approval, Bloch shouted, "What do you think now?... It has just old-fashioned notes!'

Bloch's Concerto Grosso No. 1 beautifully illustrates how Bach's music can inspire composers of all stripes. The combination of string orchestra with solo piano is, however, unusual. And a piano as a modern-day replacement of the Baroque harpsichord is too dominant an instrument to act in a subsidiary role. The work is in four movements, beginning with a dignified Prelude labeled Allegro energico e pesante, meaning a fast tempo to be played energetically and in a heavy, solid way. This is followed by the Dirge, which is clearly Romantic in style with an emphasis on the melody. The third movement, Pastorale and Rustic Dances, is based on tunes Bloch had planned for a work on Swiss dances that was never completed. We can be grateful he gave some of them life here. The finale, again in a very Baroque way, is a superb fugue, complete with string solos mixed into the special impact of the solo piano.

Hans Krása (1899-1944) Brundibar (1938)


Hans Krása was born in Prague to well-to-do parents and received an excellent musical education. He produced a significant body of musical works during the twenties and thirties. Brundibar (a colloquial Czech term for bumblebee and the name for the evil organ grinder in the play), a children's opera based on the play Lysistrata by Aristophanes (446-386 BC), was the last work he completed before being arrested by the Nazis on August 10, 1942. The librettist of the work, Adolph Hoffmeister (1902-1973), was able to escape to the West and, after World War II, became an established figure in the intellectual and artistic scene of Czechoslovakia. Krása, during his incarceration, reworked Brundibar for the available players, and it was performed 55 times in the Theresienstadt concentration camp. Krása remained productive in the camp and produced a number of chamber works, some of which survived. He was executed by the Nazis in October 1944 at Auschwitz.

Krása described his music in this way. “If I state that I was influenced by Schönberg, by that I wish to emphasize the fact that I am trying all the more to avoid the emptiness which is so favored. I try to write in such a way that every bar, every recitative, and every note is necessarily a solid part of the whole. This logic, without which every composition has no spirit, can, however, degenerate into mathematic-scientific music if the iron law of opera is not heeded, namely, that the sense and aim of opera is the singing. I am sufficiently daring, as a modern composer, to write melodic music. This reflects my whole attitude to music, whether it is called modern or anything else. My music is strictly founded on the concept of accessible melodic character.”

Brundibar is the story of a bully and organ grinder, who silences all music but his own. The heroes, Annette (Aninka) and Little Joe (Pepícek), sister and brother, try to make their own music to get money to buy milk, which their sick mother's doctor said she needs to recover. But the evil organ grinder Brundibár chases them away. However, with the help of a brave sparrow, clever cat, noble dog, and the other children of the town, they are able to chase Brundibár away, and sing in the market square. May their song continue to sing in all our hearts.

Oak Ridge Symphony Orchestra and Chorus Concert featuring Violinist William Harvey

Saturday, Nov. 19, 2011, Grove Performing Arts Theater, 123 Randolph Rd.

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From Across the World
by Mike Cates

Geneticists today will tell us that the idea of race among species Homo Sapiens is essentially meaningless. All the billions of us are descended from a small tribal group in Africa and are more than 99.9% identical in the recipe that Mother Nature used to make each of us. Other large species on this planet are far more genetically diverse, while we remain close kin to every other human being we encounter anywhere, from all across the world. That kinship surely extends into the realm of music. Music from everywhere has a basic, even primal, appeal to all of us, and musical creators in recent centuries have recognized this clearly, incorporating colors from many cultural pallets into their sound paintings. In this concert we have a fascinating illustration of the wonderful character of the musical art: four very diverse works created by composers from four widely separated areas, but music that will inform, inspire, and indeed resonate with us all.


Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) Overture to Coriolan (opus 62 )

The year 1807 was in what is now called Beethoven’s “middle” period, a very active time when many of his best known works were composed. He had already nearly finished what would become the most popular instrumental composition in the classical literature, the Fifth Symphony, and he had recently completed his Fourth Symphony and Fourth Piano Concerto, both of which premiered in the same private concert in which the Coriolan Overture was first performed. In a peculiar, indirect way we could say that William Shakespeare was the inspiration for the overture, because a friend of Beethoven’s, Henrich von Collin (1771-1811), took it upon himself to write a more “up-to-date” version of Shakespeare’s tragedy Coriolanus, using what is called a “pseudo-classic” style that was popular around Vienna at the time. Collin’s Coriolan, which premiered in 1804, was brought back to the theater in 1807, when it was introduced by Beethoven’s overture. As you well know, Collin’s work –– even his name, to most –– is un-remembered except as it relates to the musical masterpiece that came to being as a result.

Gaius Marcius Coriolanus, a Roman general in the 5th century BC, was famous for his valor in the days of the Roman Republic when the empire was beginning to expand. The story evolves around Coriolanus’ intention, upon returning from victory abroad, to invade Rome itself, but he eventually gave into his tender side from the pleadings of his mother and other Roman matrons, cancelled the invasion, and committed suicide in a final act of penance and bravery.  The structure and themes of the overture don’t follow the play specifically, but you can hear that the early minor theme represents the general’s resolve and war-like tendencies, coupled perhaps to his own inner conflict, while the tender major theme that follows represents the pleas for mercy from the women.  The final measures seem to portray the breaking down of Coriolanus’ will and his ultimate suicide. Whatever the music may mean programmatically, it remains a great treasure of composition, and has, time after time, brought thrills to people around our planet for more than 200 years.

Frederick Delius (1862-1934) On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring and Summer Night on the River

An Englishman by birth and deeply revered by the British, Frederick Delius nevertheless spent little time in his native land after childhood, living most of his life across the Channel in France. The son of German immigrants, he wasn’t meant to be a musician; although as a boy he learned to play violin and piano, he was meant to follow his father into the wool business. But in his early 20s, he crossed the Atlantic for Florida, to a plantation in Solano Grove, about 40 miles south of Jacksonville on the St. John’s River, where the citrus industry was on the ascent.

The orange groves of Solano Grove suffered under Delius’s management. Almost immediately upon arriving in Florida, the would-be musician/composer bought a piano and found a tutor in Jacksonville, spending the majority of his time in sight of the St. John’s, a major thoroughfare brimming with traffic, including barges and steamboats worked by a mostly black crew, whose voices carried across the water as their crafts drifted past Solano Grove. For the rest of his life, Delius would be influenced by those voices and the beauty of the rural environment.

Delius was a pastoral miniaturist, a composer of shorter pieces extolling rural settings. In 1912, he wrote the two tone poems that would endear him forever to classical music lovers: On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring and Summer Night on the River.

After a slow three-bar sequence in the beginning of On Hearing the First Cuckoo comes the call and response of two cuckoos, the first for oboe, then for divided strings. This first theme is followed by one for first violins; before ending, the cuckoo calls have returned, this time uttered by the clarinet. On Hearing the First Cuckoo has been called a “little masterpiece of musical impressionism, tinged with melancholy.”

Its natural companion is Summer Night on the River; although possessed of an air of contemplation, it is generally lighter, shimmering like sunlight on water. This is a quiet river embodied by gentle woodwinds and a solo cello theme lapping at the bank like the wake from a passing pleasure boat.

Audiences and critics alike often believe they hear a specific place chronicled in the music. But which place? Does the pastoral quality of Delius’s writing bring to mind the lush greenways of England, especially to the English? Or is it the steamy riverfront of the St. John’s –– a clearly American perspective?

Dan Forrest (b. 1978) In Paradisum for Choir and Orchestra (2007)

Dan Forrest was born in Elmira, New York. A product of America’s musical education system, he is well established as a composer, primarily of sacred choral works. He did his undergraduate studies at Bob Jones University and received a doctor of musical arts (DMA) degree in composition from the University of Kansas in 2007. He presently is the chairman of the Department of Music Theory and Composition at Bob Jones University. We are fortunate to have the composer’s own words to describe his work.

“In Paradisum … takes its title more from Scripture than from the liturgical 'In Paradisum' Requiem movement. This setting uses a wide diversity of Scriptural texts [Psalm 116:15, John 14:3, Revelation 21:4, Luke 23:43] … The opening bars present massive chords in a highly animated texture; these 'pillars' not only represent the unshakeable truths which follow, but also serve as a musical basis from which most of the rest of the piece is constructed. The first main section sets 'Precious in the sight of the Lord …' as well as 'I go to prepare a place for you …'  A second section … uses the flatted seventh scale degree (taken from the opening pillar chords) to symbolize sorrow, pain, and tears. This flatted seventh gives way, symbolically, to the raised seventh scale degree, picturing God’s tenderly 'wiping away all tears.' Eventually, the 'pillar chords' return, this time setting the only occurrence of the phrase 'in paradise' from Scripture … which provides a thrilling glimpse into eternity. Near the end of the piece one more glimpse of the 'tears' idea appears, but it quickly … disappears into the settled rest of the closing section, which includes a 'new song,' calling from eternity 'on high.' ”

Behzad Ranjbaran (b. 1955) Concerto for Violin and Orchestra (1994)

Behzad Ranjbaran is an Iranian-American composer, who entered the Tehran Conservatory at age nine. He later studied in this country at Indiana University and received a DMA degree from the Juilliard School of Music, where he now serves on the faculty. This work is music of the late 20th century, not only from the pen of a living composer but also from one who has given us direct information about his composition. This is how Ranjbaran describes his violin concerto.

“I was thrilled when the National Endowment for the Arts awarded me a grant to write a violin concerto. It provided me with an opportunity to revisit some of my musical impressions of the Kamancheh, an ancient Persian bowed instrument, considered as one of the ancestors to the modern violin. From my early years in the Tehran Music Conservatory, I was mesmerized by the sound of the Kamancheh. Therefore, the notion of writing a violin concerto that incorporates the power and brilliance of a modern instrument and the intimacy of an ancient one was simply irresistible. The inspiration from the Kamancheh also informed my use of Persian modes and rhythms.

"The notes of the violin’s open strings (G,D,A,E) have influenced many of the melodic and harmonic aspects of my violin concerto. The opening tutti of the concerto is primarily based on the intervals of the perfect 4th and 5th. Each movement highlights two of the violin strings, creating a three-note melodic motif: 1st movement: A-D-A; 2nd movement: D-G-D; 3rd movement: E-A-E.

"The overall structure of the concerto is organic, as themes are shared between the three movements. For example, the main musical idea of the third movement is a transformation of the first movement’s primary theme. While the movements share similar musical materials, each one is defined by a distinguishing characteristic. The first movement is conflicted, as it alternates between sections of unabashed lyricism and unforgiving ferocity. The second movement is dark, mysterious, and expressive. It is essentially one long melody that varies continuously. The third movement is festive in character and features much brilliant passagework for the solo violin. At the climax of this movement, themes from the first and second movements re-emerge simultaneously with greater intensity, propelling the concerto to an energetic finale. The score of the Violin Concerto is dedicated to Joshua Bell.” [b. 1967, who played the premier performance in Liverpool, England, on January 9, 2003]
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The composers featured in this concert continue to make connections with a world very distinct from just an orchestra in a concert hall. Ancient modes and rhythms of Persia, Roman history through the eyes of Shakespeare, a prodigal son’s wanderings in America, or the spiritual inspirations of scripture –– all seeking to connect us through the journey of imagination in a composer’s mind.

Oak Ridge Symphony Orchestra Concert, Saturday, Sept. 17, 2011, Oak Ridge High School Auditorium

A Musical Journey
by Mike Cates

One of the metaphors often used about life is that it is a journey.  It has a beginning, a series of events or adventures, and then an end. Each day we wake up somewhere along this journey, being fairly certain about the past but totally unaware of the future, or where our “journey” will lead us. Journeys take us into the realm of the unknown, where we see new places, meet new friends, and discover new ideas and ways of dealing with the human experience. During this concert we each continue our life’s journey and find ourselves here with many other fellow travelers for the common purpose of experiencing the musical creations of men now long dead, performed by friends and acquaintances very much alive indeed, each of them having already tread or is treading the path of life. We are beginning a new phase of the journey, a new concert season during which we will walk along with another fascinating set of new musical friends. In this opening concert we share the road with four composers many of us have had little interaction with. They will take us to Italy, along with a fellow traveling Turk, into a Persian market; into a village square where we listen to a retired soldier bragging about his exploits; and into the depths of the Slavic soul where pure music speaks what words cannot. Our encounters, though brief, will further brighten our way and make our personal travels all the more wondrous.

Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868) Il turco in Italia Overture (1814)

There is no more colorful composer in all the history of music than Gioachino Rossini. He composed 39 operas from 1810 to 1829, 12 of them during the peak of his productivity, from 1812 through 1814. Most of his works are comic, and his lust for life shows in all of them. He became enormously successful and well known in his youth, then retired to live a different kind of life, a life filled with parties, conversation, food (he invented the dish “Tournedos Rossini,” still served in fine restaurants) and, of course, wine. Rossini was an innovative and gifted composer from his youth. His teenage string concertos and sonatas are lovely works still recorded and heard regularly. His occasional pieces in later life, the “sins of old age,” illustrate that he kept his genius throughout his days. Typically, Rossini wrote his music under the pressure of deadlines, since opera in Italy at the time – indeed even today, to some extent – was a major entertainment medium, somewhat analogous to television and movies in our culture. He would often use music for the work in progress that he’d used before in other places. Similarly to other composers (Mozart certainly comes to mind), Rossini wrote very fast, often completing an opera in about two weeks of concentrated effort. Il turco in Italia is a work of this kind. It was first performed in La Scala, Milan, on August 14, 1814. The overture is a good example of Rossini’s style and demonstrates his ability to use unusual harmonies in what was considered to be “popular” music. 

Albert Ketèlbey (1875-1959) In a Persian Market (1920)

In 1929 Albert Ketèlbey was proclaimed by the Performing Right Gazette as “Britain’s greatest living composer.” Many may disagree with the appellation, but it illustrates his popularity at the time. It is possibly true, as well, that Ketèlbey was the first millionaire composer in musical history. He was active in many aspects of the music business. He was music editor for a number of publishing houses and musical director of the Columbia Graphophone Company, which produced over 600 recordings with him conducting the Court Symphony Orchestra, the Silver Stars Band, and other musical groups. He was also a church organist and musical director of London’s Vaudeville Theatre. But his desire was always to be a composer, something he’d shown a talent for since his childhood. When he was 11 years old, he wrote a piano sonata that won praise from Edward Elgar (1857-1934), one of England’s best known musical giants. While working in vaudeville Ketèlbey became active writing diverse vocal and instrumental music for popular consumption, many of which were used as accompaniments to silent films and as mood music at tea dances. His music was played often throughout Britain and became a kind of standard for light classical music of the day.

In a Persian Market is typical of Ketèlbey’s style and evokes the scents, sounds, and sights of a Persian market. It opens with a march, followed by a chant (by men singers with the Oak Ridge Chorus) that some have claimed sounds more like what you would hear at an American Indian ceremony than at a Near Eastern bazaar. The chant is followed by a return of the march motif and music the composer termed “the call to prayer.” When first published in 1920, In a Persian Market was advertised as “an educational novelty.” Perhaps so, but it has remained a staple work on the lighter side, used for comic Asian stage scenes in many venues, and, in fact, as part of a musical journey in Oak Ridge, Tennessee.

Zoltan Kodály (1882-1967) Intermezzo and Song (1926) from the folk opera Háry János 

Kodály is considered one of Hungary’s greatest 20th century composers, and like his contemporary Béla Bartók (1881-1945), an avid collector of Eastern European folk music. Háry János is a folk opera, using musical ideas from Hungarian folk traditions, with spoken lines between musical selections. In this concert we hear a taste of this comic masterpiece, to give you a sense of how Kodály presented the story of a Hungarian man who’d gone off to war in the Austrian army and then came home to tell the tales of his adventure. Kodály wrote in the preface to the score: "Háry is a peasant, a veteran soldier who day after day sits at the tavern spinning yarns about his heroic exploits … the stories released by his imagination are an inextricable mixture of realism and naïveté, of comic humor and pathos."  Among Háry’s “exploits” are his single-handed defeat of Napoleon and success in winning the heart of the Empress Marie Louise, Napoleon’s wife. And naturally, despite his great success Háry gives up all his fame and fortune to return to his Hungarian village and the sweetheart he left behind.

The composer also makes these points about Háry: “Though superficially he appears to be merely a braggart, essentially he is a natural visionary and poet. That his stories are not true is irrelevant, for they are the fruit of a lively imagination, seeking to create, for himself and for others, a beautiful dream world." Isn’t that, in fact, what many of our own stories are about, and what much great music does for us?

Antonin Dvorák (1841-1904) Symphony No. 6 (1881)

Dvorák became famous almost overnight in 1878, after the success of his first set of Slavonic Dances and the accolades heaped upon him by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897). By 1881 he had already written five symphonies, but these works were essentially unknown outside Bohemia. Consequently, when the Sixth Symphony came out it became, in effect, his introductory work in symphonic literature. The manuscript was even labeled as his first symphony, and the truth is that none of those earlier works is played more than occasionally while his last four symphonies are in every orchestra’s repertory. Brahms perhaps was much on the composer’s mind as Dvorák crafted this work because strong evidence indicates he tried to use much of the Viennese symphonic tradition developed by Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms himself, and Franz Schubert. Premiered in Prague, the work received considerable praise.


The first movement is one of the most majestic in the symphonic literature. Despite the Germanic structure we begin to hear the true heart of a Bohemian composer. The music is connected into an organic whole, something achieved notably by Beethoven and Brahms but now achieved in a Slavonic voice. The second, slow movement is often thought to be strongly influenced by the slow movement in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, yet we should probably listen to Dvorák’s words about his musical studies, where he said he “studied with the birds, trees, flowers, God, and myself,” and take the slow movement, then, as an outdoor idyll. In the Scherzo the composer unleashes his own nationalism and musical heritage. It is a Czech furiant with great energy and two against three rhythmic patterns, built around the middle trio section that is lighter and more folk-like. The finale is marked Allegro con spirito with the main theme harking to the first movement, the development building gradually to the grandiose. Listen for the “cascade” of violins in the coda and the fragments of the main theme flashing brightly in high spirits as the work closes. What a journey he has taken us on!