Program notes by Eric Bromberger

Concerto in D Major for Violin, Piano and String Quartet, Opus 21
ERNEST CHAUSSON
Born January 20, 1855, Paris
Died June 10, 1899, Limay

Ernest Chausson is one of the most painful examples of what-might-have-been in the history of music. Born into a wealthy and educated family, Chausson came to music indirectly. He was an accomplished painter and art collector, but his parents wanted him to do something “sensible,” so he took degrees in law and was admitted to the bar in Paris at age 22. But he never practiced, choosing instead to pursue a career in music. Chausson studied with César Franck (he was one of that master‘s final students) and tried to develop a personal style as a composer. This proved a difficult task, as it did for many young French composers at the end of the nineteenth century – Chausson found himself caught between the chromaticism of Franck, the seductive influence of Wagner, and the radical music of his friend Debussy. He wrote a handful of pieces that have found their way into the repertory – the Poème for violin and orchestra and the Chanson perpetuelle for soprano – but the promise of these pieces was cut short. In the summer of 1899, Chausson and his family took a vacation house in Limay, about twenty miles northwest of Paris. His wife and five children were returning from a day trip to Paris, and Chausson got on a bicycle to meet them at the station. Along the way, he lost control of the bicycle, was thrown headfirst into a stone wall, and – in those days before bicycle helmets – was killed instantly. He was 44 years old.

Ten years earlier, in 1889, Chausson began work on a unique piece of chamber music, scored for violin, piano and string quartet. The composer gave it an unusual name – Concerto for Violin, Piano and String Quartet (that title is sometimes listed as Concert rather than Concerto). The uncertainty about its name may be a key to this music, for it sometimes seems a hybrid composition. At moments, it is true chamber music – the six instruments play together, and their music has the intimacy and interchange we expect of the medium. There are, however, extended periods when the string quartet drops out altogether and the two “solo” instruments play by themselves. And there are also moments when the quartet makes so huge a sound, full of massed chords and tremolos, that it takes on the sonority and character of an orchestra and the music seems to become a true concerto.

But if there are confusions about its exact nature, there is no doubt about the power of this music, which is often full of those tantalizing, ineffable moments that characterize Chausson‘s finest work. This is music of generous proportions–its four movement stretch out to about forty minutes–and it is grounded in the cyclic form Chausson had learned from Franck: its themes reappear in different forms in later movements.

At the beginning of the first movement, the piano announces – very firmly – the three-note cell that will shape much of that movement; as the quartet repeats this cell, it begins to take on a more lyrical form–this is the first of many transformations of this seemingly-simple shape. This extended movement alternates interludes of melting sensuousness with full-throated outbursts from the combined forces. A cadenza-like flourish from the solo violin leads to a dramatic recapitulation and a very quiet close on the opening three-note cell.

The wistful second movement is a Sicilienne that rocks gently along the swaying rhythm characteristic of that old Mediterranean dance; in the course of the movement, Chausson combines its two main themes. Darkest of the movements, the Grave opens with a long duet (lasting nearly two minutes) for the solo violin and piano. The violin sings its expressive song over the chromatic wandering of the piano, and it is typical of Chausson that this piano part should be marked both pianissimo and très lié: “very heavy.” The quartet enters quietly, but rising tensions drive the music to a huge climax built on great waves of sound. These furies subside, and the piano part from the very beginning, wandering disconsolately once again, draws the movement to its rapt conclusion.

Aptly marked Très animé, the finale leaps to life in a rush of rhythmic energy that will drive the entire movement. Along the way, Chausson brings back the fundamental theme-shape of the first movement as well as the main theme of the Grave, and there are once again extended passages for the two solo instruments before the music makes its way to an emphatic close. Chausson worked on the Concerto for two years before completing it in the summer of 1891. The first performance took place on March 4, 1892, and the soloists on that occasion were Eugène Ysaÿe and Auguste Pierret. Ysaÿe and Chausson were good friends, and it was for the great Belgian violinist that Chausson would – four years later – write his famous Poème.

String Quartet in C Major, K. 465 “Dissonant”
WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
Born January 27, 1756, Salzburg
Died December 5, 1791, Vienna

When Mozart arrived in Vienna, the towering figure in music was Franz Joseph Haydn, then nearly 50. Haydn had taken the string quartet, which for the previous generation had been a divertimento-like entertainment, and transformed it. He liberated the viola and cello from what had been purely accompanying roles and made all four voices equal partners; he further made each detail of rhythm and theme and harmony an important part of the musical enterprise. Under Haydn‘s inspired hands, the string quartet evolved from entertainment music into an important art form. Mozart, who was 25 when he arrived in Vienna, quickly grasped what the older master had achieved with the string quartet and embarked on a cycle of six quartets of his own. These are in no sense derivative works – they are thoroughly original quartets, each of them a masterpiece – but Mozart acknowledged his debt (and admiration) by dedicating the entire cycle to Haydn when it was published in 1785.

The “Dissonant” Quartet, the last of the six, was completed on January 14, 1785. The nickname comes from its extraordinary slow introduction. The quartet is in C major and the music opens with a steady pulse of C‘s from the cello, but as the other three voices make terraced entrances above, their notes (A-flat, E-flat and A – all wrong for the key of C major) grind quietly against each other. The tonality remains uncertain until the Allegro, where the music settles into radiant C major and normal sonata form. The surprise is that after this unusual introduction, the first movement is quite straightforward, flowing broadly along its bright C-major energy; an ebullient coda eventually draws the movement to a quiet close. The Andante cantabile develops by repetition, its lyric main idea growing more conflicted as it evolves. The Menuetto sends the first violin soaring across a wide range, while the dramatic trio section moves unexpectedly into urgent C minor. After these stresses, the concluding Allegro, in sonata form, returns to the bright spirits of the opening movement. This finale, which has a brilliant part for the first violin, fairly flies to its resounding close.

Mozart may have been struck by Haydn‘s quartets, but now it was Haydn‘s turn to be amazed. When he heard the “Dissonant” Quartet and two others of this cycle performed at a garden party in Vienna in February 1785, Haydn pulled Mozart‘s father Leopold aside and offered as sincere a compliment as any composer ever gave another: “Before God and as an honest man I tell you that your son is the greatest composer known to me either in person or by name. He has taste and, what is more, the most profound knowledge of composition.”

Concerto in C Minor for Piano, Trumpet and Strings, Opus 35
DMITRI SHOSTAKOVICH
Born September 25, 1906, St. Petersburg
Died August 9, 1975, Moscow

Shostakovich‘s First Piano Concerto dates from the spring of 1933, when the composer was 26 – he wrote it just after completing his opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, which would shortly get him into almost lethal trouble with Soviet authorities. Shostakovich – a virtuoso pianist whose playing was praised for its clarity and precision – was the soloist at the concerto‘s first performance, in Leningrad on October 15, 1933, and it should come as no surprise that the music is suited so exactly to those virtues. The scoring – for piano, trumpet and strings – is exceptionally light, with many extended sections for piano alone. Though the trumpet has occasional solo passages, it remains in a subordinate role in this concerto, used primarily for accent and contrast.

Shostakovich‘s First Piano Concerto is remarkable for the kaleidoscopic variety of its moods. The music can be brilliant or somber, percussive or lyric, gentle or harsh, charming or sneering, changing almost by the instant – one feels that Shostakovich has set out intentionally to defy expectations here. There are occasional hints as well of American jazz, another form of music that was about to become a hot-button topic with Soviet authorities. This mercurial concerto is quite compact; its four movements, played without pause, span barely twenty minutes.

The Allegro moderato opens with a splash of color – glittering flashes from piano and trumpet – before the piano announces the lyric first subject, which is quickly repeated by the violins. The writing for piano in this movement is extremely athletic, with wide melodic skips and brilliant passages in octaves before the quiet close on fragments of the opening melody. A slow, ghostly waltz for muted strings opens the Lento. The piano takes up this waltz but soon races ahead in a violent section that Shostakovich marks appassionato. The quiet waltz, now featuring lovely lyric writing for trumpet, returns to bring the movement to its close.

The brief Moderato, which serves as a bridge to the fiery finale, opens with piano alone. Strings enter with a variation of the first movement‘s opening theme, and the music rushes straight into the finale. This Allegro con brio returns to the mood and manner of the opening movement, with angular themes, virtuoso writing for piano and extended passages for trumpet. At the end – pushed along by piquant fanfares from the trumpet – the concerto blisters its way to the sudden, surprising close.