Keywords: Subscription Concert, Symphony Concert
| Tarmo Peltokoski | Conductor |
| Anastasia Kobekina | Cello |
| Jean Sibelius | Excerpts from ›Pelléas et Mélisande‹ op. 46 |
| Dmitri Shostakovich | Violoncello concerto No. 1 in E flat major op. 107 |
| Ludwig van Beethoven | Symphony No. 4 in B major op. 60 |
These events are similar in terms of concept, place, musicians or the program.
This year, two hundred years from the premiere of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, it is worth remembering the Name Day Overture. Initially, it was intended to contain a choir part with the text of Schiller’s Ode to Joy. The final result turned out to be different, yet no less interesting. All the more so, since the background for the piece is to be found in the name day of Emperor Francis I and II and its dedication is one for Prince Antoni Radziwiłł. It is quite a different story with Haydn’s Cello Concerto in D major. It is a popular piece, permanently present in the repertoire, though probably less frequently played than the Concerto in C major. Equally technically challenging and equally virtuosic, but more dreamy and melancholic, its narrative flowing lightly at a leisurely pace. Haydn’s melodies are easy to remember and not easy to forget, just like the theme from a Polish folk song quoted by Panufnik in his Lullaby, a virtuosic piece using quartertones. „A gem of talent, technique and taste” – that was how Stefan Kisielewski marvelled at the composition. Martinů’s Symphony No. 6, which the composer himself called Symphonic Fantasies,might seem both moving and surprising. It brings together modern oniric sounds and distinct neoclassical elements. „It is a work without form, and yet something holds it together, though I do not know what it is,” Martinů admitted openly. One may seek this “something” on one’s own, letting oneself be captivated by this music created by a Czech master who is still to find recognition in Poland.Piotr MatwiejczukConcert duration (intermission included): approximately 90 minutes
Karen Gomyo, photo: Gabrielle Revere It is generally accepted that short pieces performed at the beginning of symphonic concerts play the role of a kind of overture (even if they are not overtures in the strict sense of the word). What, then, is the function of the composition Ceci n'est pas une ouverture [This is not an overture], written a dozen years ago by Paweł Szymański for the Warsaw Philharmonic and the Polish Composers' Union? Perhaps similar to French surrealist René Magritte’s famous painting signed Ceci n'est pas une pipe, which depicts nothing but a pipe. Szymanski's thrilling piece conjures up the image of a laboratory technician dissecting classical scores in front of an audience in the anatomical theatre he has built. Sergei Prokofiev’s ‘Classical’ Symphony, on the other hand, provides a fascinating answer to the question of how Joseph Haydn might have composed if a time machine had transported him to the twentieth century. Another great composer writing at the beginning of the last century took an imaginary journey (this time in space). Ibéria, the middle and longest movement in Claude Debussy’s Images cycle, is regarded as one of the great musical evocations of Spain, although the composer was never fated to visit the country. Max Bruch, who was already old at the time, reportedly found it difficult to come to terms with the end of romanticism. His Violin Concerto No. 1, composed while Johannes Brahms was still alive, was so successful that hardly anyone noticed that the German composer had written two others!
Michał Nesterowicz, photo: Łukasz Rajchert He jokingly says that he loves the Warsaw Philharmonic Concert Hall as much as he hates it. He knew it much better than many Polish artists long before he first came to Warsaw. In order to follow the live broadcasts of the Chopin Competition in his country, he had to get up at 3.00 a.m. He longed to one day stand on the stage where Martha Argerich and Kristian Zimmerman won the competition. That dream of performing in Warsaw came true in 2015, when Korean pianist Seong-Jin Cho triumphed in the Chopin Competition. He now returns to the capital’s stage as the soloist in Johannes Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat major. Brahms used to refer to his powerful work, which posed a considerable challenge for both pianist and orchestra, as a ‘little concerto’. Shortly after the premiere, however, it was more appropriately labelled a ‘symphony with obbligato piano part’. This grand Romantic concerto will be followed by a true Romantic symphony. One of Anton Bruckner’s more popular works, his Fourth Symphony is regarded as one of the finest musical contemplations of nature. Although it does not have a clearly defined literary programme, the composer wove into it the sounds of the morning, the sounds of nature – including the singing of a tit or a mountain echo – and of hunting.
Maxime Pascal, photo: Nieto ‘Awakening of cheerful feelings on arrival in the countryside’ – that is the title of the first movement (Allegro non troppo) of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony. As we learn from letters he sent to the publisher Breitkopf & Härtel in 1808, the composer had serious doubts about whether the individual movements of the work should be given names containing such unambiguous pictorial suggestions. In the end, he not only retained them, but found it necessary to include next to the work’s title Pastoral Symphony, or Recollection of Life in the Countryside a caveat in brackets: An expression of feelings rather than painting. The composer’s joy and affirmative attitude to nature – the rustling of leaves, the murmur of streams, the singing of birds, the thunder, lightning and rain all translated into sound in this programmatic work – still leave no one indifferent today, delighting listeners with the deep connection to nature. André Gide’s poetic play Perséphone, written in the spirit of French Parnassianism, is based on a theme taken from Homer’s Hymn to Demeter. The Nobel Prize-winning text caught the attention of the famous dancer Ida Rubinstein, who asked Igor Stravinsky to write music to it. Out of the planned ‘symphonic ballet’ arose a genre combining dance, mime, singing and recitation in an orchestral setting. It was premiered without much fanfare on the stage of the Paris Opera on 30 April 1934. Many years later, Stravinsky's melodrama attracted the interest of many choreographers, including Frederick Ashton, George Balanchine, Janine Charrat, Martha Graham, and in 2012 Peter Sellars directed this production at the Teatro Real in Madrid. Today, this work is not infrequently performed in a concert version, which the Warsaw Philharmonic ensembles, with renowned artists and the Artos children’s choir, will present on our stage for the first time. Judith Chemla will perform the part of Persephone in Stravinsky's piece, replacing Marina Hands.
Maxime Pascal, photo: Nieto ‘Awakening of cheerful feelings on arrival in the countryside’ – that is the title of the first movement (Allegro non troppo) of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony. As we learn from letters he sent to the publisher Breitkopf & Härtel in 1808, the composer had serious doubts about whether the individual movements of the work should be given names containing such unambiguous pictorial suggestions. In the end, he not only retained them, but found it necessary to include next to the work’s title Pastoral Symphony, or Recollection of Life in the Countryside a caveat in brackets: An expression of feelings rather than painting. The composer’s joy and affirmative attitude to nature – the rustling of leaves, the murmur of streams, the singing of birds, the thunder, lightning and rain all translated into sound in this programmatic work – still leave no one indifferent today, delighting listeners with the deep connection to nature. André Gide’s poetic play Perséphone, written in the spirit of French Parnassianism, is based on a theme taken from Homer’s Hymn to Demeter. The Nobel Prize-winning text caught the attention of the famous dancer Ida Rubinstein, who asked Igor Stravinsky to write music to it. Out of the planned ‘symphonic ballet’ arose a genre combining dance, mime, singing and recitation in an orchestral setting. It was premiered without much fanfare on the stage of the Paris Opera on 30 April 1934. Many years later, Stravinsky's melodrama attracted the interest of many choreographers, including Frederick Ashton, George Balanchine, Janine Charrat, Martha Graham, and in 2012 Peter Sellars directed this production at the Teatro Real in Madrid. Today, this work is not infrequently performed in a concert version, which the Warsaw Philharmonic ensembles, with renowned artists and the Artos children’s choir, will present on our stage for the first time. Judith Chemla will perform the part of Persephone in Stravinsky's piece, replacing Marina Hands.
Volodymyr Sirenko, photo: artist's archive The National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine, under the baton of its long-standing director, Volodymyr Sirenko, will present a programme based around the idea of national traditions open to cultural dialogue. Born in the Lemko Region (Lemkovyna), Dmytro Bortniansky was one of the most interesting figures linking the musical traditions of Eastern and Western Europe in the second half of the eighteenth century. During a decade-long stay in Italy, he wrote the opera Quinto Fabio, about the fate of the ancient hero of the Second Samnite War, staged in Modena in 1778. Contemporary Ukrainian composer Victoria Polevá sought inspiration in both the post-war avant‑garde and religious minimalism. The orchestral poem Langsam (German for ‘slowly’), completed in 1992, is a dialogue with the music of late German romanticism, especially the contemplative symphonic adagios of Gustav Mahler. Poleva’s compatriot Yevhen Stankovych, meanwhile, refers to the ancient polyphony and musical traditions of his homeland. His Ancient Highland Dances of Verkhovyna, in which he alluded to traditional Hutsul music, adhere to the spirit of Bartókian vitalism. One of the finest musical impressions from travels in the United States is Antonín Dvořák’s monumental Symphony No. 9 in E minor ‘From the New World’, Op. 95. In American multiculturalism, the Czech composer saw potential for the musical future.
Alexander Shelley, photo: Curtis Perry For some overshadowed by the Sixth (‘Tragic’), for others drowned out – almost literally – by the next monumental vocal-instrumental ‘Symphony of a Thousand’, Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 7 in E minor was consequently described as an ‘intermezzo’ in the composer’s oeuvre, or even a ‘Cinderella’. Happily, after decades of scorn, the work was recognised as princess material and ranked among the boldest symphonic experiments (or even provocations) of the early twentieth century. After the logical arrangement and clear dramatic structure of the Sixth Symphony (written, incidentally, at the same time as some movements of the Seventh), the composer presented listeners, critics and scholars with a work that defied all expectations, and was also quite cheerful, which did not fit the stereotypical psychological portrait of the melancholic composer. The unusual layout and form of the successive movements, the rich instrumentation and, finally, the return to the night motif that was widely explored in the nineteenth century (two movements were titled Nachtmusik) afforded scope for discussion of the work’s inspirations and hidden programme. The symphony was written in 1904–1905, during summer sojourns in the mountains, and first performed three years later in Prague, during the diamond jubilee celebrations of Emperor Franz Joseph I. It was received very warmly, and the composer himself considered it his best work.
Alexander Shelley, photo: Curtis Perry For some overshadowed by the Sixth (‘Tragic’), for others drowned out – almost literally – by the next monumental vocal-instrumental ‘Symphony of a Thousand’, Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 7 in E minor was consequently described as an ‘intermezzo’ in the composer’s oeuvre, or even a ‘Cinderella’. Happily, after decades of scorn, the work was recognised as princess material and ranked among the boldest symphonic experiments (or even provocations) of the early twentieth century. After the logical arrangement and clear dramatic structure of the Sixth Symphony (written, incidentally, at the same time as some movements of the Seventh), the composer presented listeners, critics and scholars with a work that defied all expectations, and was also quite cheerful, which did not fit the stereotypical psychological portrait of the melancholic composer. The unusual layout and form of the successive movements, the rich instrumentation and, finally, the return to the night motif that was widely explored in the nineteenth century (two movements were titled Nachtmusik) afforded scope for discussion of the work’s inspirations and hidden programme. The symphony was written in 1904–1905, during summer sojourns in the mountains, and first performed three years later in Prague, during the diamond jubilee celebrations of Emperor Franz Joseph I. It was received very warmly, and the composer himself considered it his best work.
Angela Hewitt, photo: Keith Saunders A perfectionist with an impressive memory, Angela Hewitt boasts a wide-ranging repertoire that includes works from various eras (from the Couperins to contemporary pieces specially composed for her), but her name is mainly associated with the works of Johann Sebastian Bach. That is due to her victory in the Bach Competition in Toronto, a series of highly acclaimed recordings of Bach’s keyboard music and the award, not so long ago, of the Bach Medal in Leipzig (as the first ever female recipient). In Warsaw, she will perform one of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s most ‘symphonic’ piano concertos – the Concerto in C major, K. 503, completed one December day in 1786. The evening will begin with a piece by Louise Farrenc, an increasingly appreciated Romantic composer who from childhood received private tuition in playing and composition from the most important musicians in Paris, unable – because of her gender – to pursue regular studies in that field. Paradoxically, years later, she herself took over a piano class at the famous Paris Conservatoire. Her two striking concert overtures from 1834 showcase the dramatic and colouristic flair of a composer who unfortunately was not fated to realise her dream of writing an opera. About a century later, Sergei Rachmaninov composed his third, highly expressive Symphony, in A minor, which will bring our programme to a close. This is one of the composer’s last works and an important monument to Eastern European Romantic symphonism.
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