with the NAC Orchestra

2020-03-25 20:00 2020-03-26 22:00 60 Canada/Eastern 🎟 NAC: Kawasaki Performs Koprowski

https://nac-cna.ca/en/event/21699

Revere the old and celebrate the new, beginning with Haydn’s high-spirited Symphony No. 100, nicknamed the “Military” because of its exuberant fanfares that evoke parades filled with pageantry and colour. The NAC Orchestra asked composer Peter Paul Koprowski to write his Violin Concerto especially for esteemed concertmaster Yosuke Kawasaki, who has held the chair since 2007. Koprowski is a Polish-Canadian JUNO nominee and recipient of the NAC’s Award for Canadian...

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Southam Hall,1 Elgin Street,Ottawa,Canada
March 25 - 26, 2020
March 25 - 26, 2020

≈ 2 hours · With intermission

Last updated: March 10, 2020

Reflection

Peter Paul Koprowski’s violin concerto consists of four movements Ballade-Caprice-Berceuse-Burlesque. I love that he names these movements in this fashion. Normally classical musicians get indicators like Allegro (fast) and Adagio (slow) which refers to tempos. Occasionally we’ll get something more descriptive like Allegro con spirito (fast with spirit) and Adagio mesto (slow and sad) which sheds some light on the overall character. Peter Paul eliminates any debate about the nature of these movements. The music already reflects this but to actually know that I’m engaged in performing a Berceuse for example is very reassuring. The relation between the movements is slow-fast-slow-fast. There’s a small cadenza between the Berceuse and Burlesque which Peter Paul added months after he completed the work, saying, “…I feel the piece was so much calling for!”

When I play this concerto, my general feeling is that it’s very beautifully lyrical and bittersweet. Audience members that have watched me play may have the impression that I’m excitable and happy because I’m very animated (jumping out of my chair) but I musically connect better to feelings of sadness. I don’t know if Peter Paul sensed this many years ago but I would say that this concerto and me are, dare I say, “molto simpatico”!

In 1972, Mario Bernardi was on the podium for the NAC Orchestra’s first performance of Haydn’s Military Symphony. The ensemble gave their most recent interpretation of this work in 2012, under the direction of José Luis Gomez.

This is the first time the NAC Orchestra has performed Carl Nielsen’s Symphony No. 2.

Repertoire

JOSEPH HAYDN

Symphony No. 100, “Military”

Born in Rohrau, Austria, March 31, 1732
Died in Vienna, May 31, 1809

When Haydn’s “New Grand Ouverture,” as Symphony No. 100 was initially called by the English, was first performed at the Hanover Square Rooms in London on March 31, 1794 (Haydn’s 62nd birthday), it was an immediate and enormous success. The work quickly became his most popular symphony throughout Europe, and it remained so for years to come. It even found its way to the New World as early as 1825, when it was performed in Boston.

The subtitle “Military” did not come from Haydn. Shortly after the work was introduced, this apt sobriquet was already in common use as a shortened form of “the symphony with the military movement” (the second). In fact, though, military influences can be found throughout the entire symphony.

The slow introduction contains several portentous moments for that most military of instruments, the drums (timpani), which remain prominent throughout. Both principal themes of the first movement’s main Allegro section have a military flavour: the first (flute, two oboes) humorously suggestive of toy soldiers, the second (violins) so swaggering and confident that Johann Strauss I used it as the basis of his Radetzky March in 1848.

The second movement is not the traditional slow movement, but rather an Allegretto (moderately lively) consisting of a theme and variations based on what sounds like a folk tune. In fact, the theme is original on Haydn’s part, and only later assumed the added role of a folk song. Audiences in Haydn's time normally expected trumpets and drums to remain silent in a symphony’s second movement. Here Haydn, always ready to surprise the listener, not only retains these instruments, but adds a “Turkish” component of bass drum, cymbals and triangle as well as a pair of clarinets. The coda begins with a brash bugle call, presumably used by the Austrian army.

The Menuetto is sturdy and forthright, with a gracious central Trio section. Even here the military element intrudes, with a “dum-da-dum-da-dum” rhythmic pattern hammered out by the full orchestra, led by trumpets and drums.

The exhilarating finale is one of Haydn’s most substantial (334 measures), and incorporates any number of surprises, mysteries and musical jokes. The full percussion department returns, and the symphony ends in as splendid a display of sound as Haydn ever conjured from an orchestra.

– Program note by Robert Markow

Peter Paul Koprowski

Violin Concerto

Born in Łódź, Poland, August 24, 1947
Now living in London, Ontario

Peter Paul Koprowski’s early musical training took place initially in Krakow, followed by studies in Paris with Nadia Boulanger, England and finally the University of Toronto. He became a naturalized Canadian in 1976. Among his many awards, which he has been gathering since he was a teenager, are the prestigious Jules Léger Prize (on two occasions, in 1989 and 1994), and the 1997 Jean A. Chalmers National Music Award. In 2005, he was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Order Polonia Restituta from his natal country. He retired last year from his position of professor of composition at Western University in London, Ontario.

Koprowski’s prolific output includes more than 50 commissioned compositions from ensembles such as the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, the Oslo Philharmonic, the Polish Chamber Orchestra, the Esprit Orchestra (Toronto), the Berlin Philharmonic Wind Quintet and the National Arts Centre Orchestra. The NAC Orchestra has been performing Koprowski’s music since 1982. These compositions include In Memoriam Karol Szymanowski, Epitaph for Strings, Sweet Baroque, Songs of Forever, Sinfonia Mystica, Sinfonia Concertante, Ancestral Voices, Intermezzo and Capriccio.

His most recent works, Podhale and the Chamber Concerto for Contrabass Solo, Timpani, Percussion and Strings, were commissioned by the NAC Orchestra as part of the NAC Award for Composers. The Violin Concerto is his third and final commission under this Award. 

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Violin Concerto

World premiere: March 25, 2020 | NAC Commission 

Peter Paul Koprowski’s latest work for the NAC Orchestra is the 20-minute Violin Concerto, written for tonight’s soloist, Yosuke Kawasaki. Koprowski describes it as “unabashedly tonal, melodic, and full of contrasts.”

“The first movement,” he writes, “is moderate in tempo, poetic and lyrical. It opens with a solo clarinet in partnership with a delicate sound of glass wind chimes. Various instruments from the orchestra  join the solo violin in chamber settings. Approximately midway through there is a sudden but brief, rather aggressive brass episode, which gives way to lyrical, slowly unfolding poetic music.

“The second movement arrives without pause and brings a sudden contrast to the music. It is fast, relentless, and challenging for the soloist.

“The third movement opens with a short introduction for the winds, building on the clarinet solo which opened the composition. Although slow and rhythmically persistent, it brings a touch of humour to the work. The music is somewhat relaxed after the tumultuous second movement.

“Without a break, the movement rolls into a cadenza and then into the final movement. Light-hearted, at times aggressive and at others full of humour and vigour, the movement sums up the whole composition and brings it to a buoyant conclusion.”

– Program note by Robert Markow

Carl Nielsen

Symphony No. 2, Op. 16, “The Four Temperaments”

I. Allegro collerico
II. Allegro comodo e flemmatico
III. Andante malincolico
IV. Allegro sanguineo

Carl Nielsen (1865–1931) is Denmark’s most recognized musical figure and is one of his generation’s significant composers; he was also active as a conductor and violinist. His music, while often based on the traditional forms and processes of Western art music, displays a highly individual style of writing that did not follow or conform to a particular school or prevailing fashion of his time. Among his works best known today are his six symphonies, which exhibit his uniquely bold and inventive approaches to the genre.

Nielsen began the creation of his Second Symphony in 1901, the year he started to receive a modest state stipend to give him time to compose as he continued his job as a violinist in Copenhagen’s Royal Theatre Orchestra. He completed the work in late November 1902 and conducted its first performance on December 1. Soon after the symphony’s premiere, his friend Henrik Knudsen made a two-piano arrangement of it, which they took to Berlin to play for Ferruccio Busoni, the renowned Italian pianist and composer. Impressed, Busoni subsequently featured it in one of his “Orchestral Evenings for new and rarely performed works” on November 5, 1903; in gratitude, Nielsen dedicated the piece to him. The Second Symphony initially received mixed reactions from critics and audiences, but by the third decade of the 20th century, it had increased in popularity and has since become a favourite of the orchestral repertory.

In 1931, Nielsen wrote a substantial program note about the Second Symphony, in which he discussed its origins. While visiting a village pub in Zealand, he encountered “a most comical picture” that depicted the four fundamental human temperaments, as derived from the Ancient Greek concept of “humours”—choleric (impetuous, angry), phlegmatic (lazy, laid-back), melancholic, and sanguine (cheerful, naïve). So taken was Nielsen by the picture, that he felt inspired to create a symphony on the subject, with each movement a musical portrait of a temperament. He achieves this to powerful effect, by using distinctive melodies and motives as well as innovative harmonic processes to characterize each personality type. He also develops these elements through different moods, thus giving the more realistic impression that a person is not solely of a single temperament. “The impetuous man can have his milder moments, the melancholy man his impetuous or brighter ones, and the boisterous, cheerful man can become a little contemplative, even quite serious—but only for a little while,” he explained. “The lazy, indolent man, on the other hand, only emerges from his phlegmatic state with the greatest difficulty, so this movement is both brief (he can’t be bothered) and uniform in its progress.”

The first movement explores all the facets of the choleric temperament, from impulsive rage to righteous indignation and noble passion. After an initial outburst, the first theme is introduced, proceeding with furious energy. For a moment, the storm subsides as the clarinet spins out a delicate melody, but this soon rises to a glorious eruption. It then dies away, leading into a tranquil episode, with an expressive second theme first intoned by the oboe. Before long, though, the serenity is disturbed by “violently shifting figures and rhythmic jerks” (in Nielsen’s words) that intensify to a series of brusque chords. Following a pause, the second theme returns, now expanded into a majestic song (the noble side of the choleric type). In the ensuing development section, initiated by a crescendo of timpani taps, Nielsen states that “the above-mentioned material is worked, now wildly and impetuously, like one who nearly forgets himself, now in a softer mood, like one who regrets his irascibility.” Yet again, it isn’t long before the choleric resumes his usual ways—listen out for the varied recap of the main themes, with the second reaching a somewhat anxious climax this time. From here, a passage of insistent swells on the woodwinds and brass combined with aggressive leaps in the strings build to a fury that picks up speed in the coda, bringing the movement to a ferocious conclusion.

In stark contrast, the second movement opens with placid music that is an unmistakable depiction of the phlegmatic temperament. According to his program note, Nielsen had imagined a young man, whose “real inclination was to lie where the birds sing, where the fish glide noiselessly through the water, where the sun warms, and the wind strokes mildly round one’s curls. […] His expression was rather happy, but not self-complacent, rather with a hint of quiet melancholy, so that one felt impelled to be good to him,” as suggested by the gently rocking motives and flowing phrases poignantly tinged with chromatic notes. Later, the man’s state of inertia is evoked in repeated notes that seem to go nowhere. His idyllic state is disturbed once—a loud thwack of the timpani—but “in a moment, everything is quiet again.” With the return of the opening music, the young chap has resumed his lazing and drifts off without a care in the world.

The third movement depicts a person heavy with melancholy. After an introductory descent, the first violins sing the lamenting main theme with its characteristic rising third (like a plea of “why me?”), which, as Nielsen describes, is “drawn heavily towards a strong outcry of pain”. The oboe then presents “a plaintive sighing motive” that gradually develops as it is taken up in turn by other instruments, building to a climax of heaving orchestral sobs. A transition combining the rising motive and the sighs leads to a “quieter, resigned episode” with the woodwinds and strings alternating on smooth phrases. The winds continue in a long imitative passage, during which their parts become intertwined “like the mesh of a net,” and then stop in defeat. With renewed intensity, the lament returns; the ensuing sighs, now on violins, rise to an anguished outburst that is repeated a step down, followed by a series of detached harmonies on full orchestra. It subsides to a calm, and the movement closes, hovering on a note of optimism.

“A man who storms thoughtlessly forward in the belief that the whole world belongs to him, that fried pigeons will fly into his mouth without work or bother,” is how Nielsen characterizes the sanguine temperament of the finale. The movement starts up with a robust theme on flutes, clarinets, and violins, which progresses cheerfully, then becomes recklessly bullish on brass and lower strings, as violins play scurrying passages. Amidst this exultant chaos, something seems to scare the man, “and he gasps all at once for breath in rough syncopations.” Gradually, he recovers—a jaunty tune with chromatic “sighs” (a touch of the melancholic) is introduced by violins tentatively at first, then gathers energy to reach a boisterous self-satisfied climax. The initial mood then returns; the robust theme proceeds as earlier, but this time, it appears the man has “met with something really serious”—listen for rumbling timpani alternating with loud orchestral chords. After a pause, the second tune reappears—no longer jaunty but contemplative at a much slower tempo—and is developed into a searching contrapuntal episode for strings. Soon, though, the music brightens, and the orchestra erupts into a rousing march—the man’s brash optimism now evolved into a dignified confidence—to complete this vibrant musical picture of The Four Temperaments.

Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

Artists

  • storgards8-high
    Conductor John Storgårds
  • yosuke-kawasaki
    Violin Yosuke Kawasaki
  • Featuring National Arts Centre Orchestra
  • koprowski-head10-from-web
    Composer, Violin Concerto* Peter Paul Koprowski

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