Program Notes

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Triple Concerto for Violin, Cello and Piano, Op. 56
Duration: ca. 33 minutes

What to listen for:

• The cello plays in a high register to better project its tone alongside the violin and piano.

You might wonder why some composers never wrote an opera or a symphony, and what that music might sound like had they done so. Or, imagine a cello concerto by Beethoven, whose affection for the instrument stands out in his sonatas and variations, all gems of the chamber repertoire.

The closest he came to a marriage of cello and orchestra is the Triple Concerto, which TFO performs in an upcoming Masterworks program under the baton of Music Director Michael Francis. “It’s basically a cello concerto with violin and piano,’’ he said. “The cello really shines throughout.’’

Beethoven gave birth to his Triple Concerto amid a flurry of creativity that saw the revolutionary Eroica Symphony, the Leonore Overture and the shattering Appassionata piano sonata. But unlike these works, the concerto isn’t forward-leaning; rather, it feels more like a stylistic experiment looking back to the old sinfonia concertante form.

In his biography The Music and the Life of Beethoven, Lewis Lockwood describes it as aiming “to please but not stir its audiences, a work of easy surface qualities but not depth.” Certainly, not everything by Beethoven simmers with existential angst, and here he creates music that reflects the lighter qualities of the passing Classical era. As Francis mentioned, the cello takes center stage, not only introducing each movement but in expositions, all the while revealing its rich, expressive voice.

What strikes the listener is how simple the music sounds, free of complex embellishment and showy cadenzas. It deserves hearing if only to better appreciate the remarkable road Beethoven traveled as a composer, and how he achieves an agreement between a chamber-like trio and large orchestra.

The long opening movement feeds themes specific to each soloist, which they digest and develop lyrically rather than dramatically. The brief middle movement, a largo, is a portrait in quietude, the music full of sweetness and hushed reserve. For the finale Beethoven injects some rhythmic fire into a Polish dance known as a polonaise, and instead of galvanizing his forces with an energetic crescendo, he toys with playful themes all the way to the end.

Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Symphony No. 4, Romantic
Duration: ca. 70 minutes

What to listen for:

• Bruckner said the horn call that opens the work represents Medieval knights as they ride through the castle gates at dawn to begin a new adventure.

Mention the name Anton Bruckner and you might expect crickets from friends and two-for-one tickets at the box office. Bruckner can be a tough sell, as his colossal, unhurried works require stamina on both sides of the proscenium.

So, in an age of sound bites, where does a monolithic symphony from nearly 150 years ago find a meaningful home? Certainly, in live performance, as you will hear in the upcoming TFO offerings of the composer’s popular Symphony No. 4. But as with all his nine large orchestral works, the experience is hardly casual listening. Bruckner demands a special kind of engagement, akin to meditation, and the rewards are endless − as if his music opens a window to an unexplored realm.

“People are always nervous about Bruckner, but the Fourth is so beautiful, and when you hear it live, it’s intoxicating,’’ said TFO Music Director Michael Francis. “It’s the ultimate in Romanticism, a great journey between heart and soul. And during a performance you bask in the sheer beauty of Bruckner played by a full orchestra.’’

Hallmarks of Bruckner are harmonic spaciousness, terraced dynamics with sudden shifts, and swirling themes with massive crescendos that end in silence. In the Fourth, a slowly arcing pendulum carries the listener through an epic series of statements and counter-statements, the first movement a model of granite strength propelled by a horn call that sounds as if descending from a mountain top.

Bruckner completed the work in 1874 and revised it several times over the years, as was his custom. This constant tweaking of his symphonies became known as the “Bruckner Problem,’’ a term coined by the musicologist Deryck Cooke to describe the complexities of multiple (and confusing) versions of the composer’s scores. Bruckner suffered from an obsessive-compulsive disorder, lacked self-confidence, and too easily allowed others to suggest changes after a work was finished.

“The result of such advice was to awaken all the insecurity in the non-musical part of Bruckner’s personality,’’ Cooke wrote. “Lacking all self-assurance, he felt obliged to bow to the opinions of his friends.’’

To say Bruckner admired Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is an understatement, as no less than six of his symphonies open with a quiet tremolo in the strings − reminiscent of the first moments of Beethoven’s last symphony. The second movement, in C minor, begins with a statement by the cellos and unfolds as a funeral march. The following section − known as the Alphorn or Hunting scherzo − offers contrast in its brass fanfares. The symphony concludes with pulsating crescendo that eventually takes us back to the dawn theme that opened the work.

The Fourth is a good introduction for anyone new to Bruckner’s symphonies and his distinctive sound world.

“Despite its general debt to Beethoven, a Bruckner symphony is a unique conception, not only because of the individuality of its spirit and its materials, but even more because of the absolute originality of its formal processes,’’ Cooke noted. “He created a new and monumental type of symphonic organism … something elemental and metaphysical.’’

Kurt Loft is a journalist and music critic who has written for various newspapers, magazines and arts groups for more than 40 years. A member of the Music Critics Association of North America, he lives in St. Petersburg.