≈ 2 hours · With intermission
Last updated: February 24, 2023
Program
SOFIA GUBAIDULINA Fairytale Poem for orchestra (10 min)
PYOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23 (33 min)
I. Allegro non troppo e molto maestoso – Allegro con spirito
II. Andantino semplice – Prestissimo
III. Allegro con fuoco
INTERMISSION
ANTONÍN DVOŘÁK Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70 (38 min)
I. Allegro maestoso
II. Poco adagio
III. Scherzo: Vivace
IV. Finale: Allegro
Repertoire
Fairytale Poem for orchestra
Russian composer Sofia Gubaidulina is one of today’s preeminent musical figures. Born in Chistopol, a small town in the Tatar Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic, she celebrated her 90th birthday in 2021, a milestone that was commemorated with performances of her music by ensembles and organizations throughout the world. For decades in the latter part of the 20th century, she had dared to defy the Soviet cultural authorities, in exploring spiritual topics and ideas in her works, as well as her use of modern compositional techniques including alternative tunings and 12-tone serialism. She continues to evolve and integrate such aspects with elements of her Tatar heritage, to forge a distinctively powerful compositional style.
Gubaidulina composed Fairytale Poem for orchestra in 1971. The score was originally for a children’s radio program based on the fairy tale, The Little Piece of Chalk, by the Czech writer Mazourek. At the time, Gubaidulina said she was pleased to transform it into an independent orchestral piece because “I liked the fairy tale so much and it seemed so symbolic of an artist’s destiny that I developed a very personal relationship with this work.” It received its first performance in 1992, by Hanover’s NDR Radiophilharmonie conducted by Bernhard Klee.
As Gubaidulina described the story that her music brings to sonic life:
“The piece of chalk dreams of drawing wonderful castles, beautiful gardens with pavilions, and the sea. But day after day, it is forced to draw boring words, numbers, and geometric figures on the blackboard, and in doing so every day, it becomes smaller and smaller, unlike the children who grow every day. Gradually, the piece of chalk is in despair, increasingly losing hope it will be allowed at some point to draw the sun or the sea. Soon it becomes so small it can no longer be used in the school class and is thrown away. After which the chalk finds itself in total darkness and thinks it has died. This assumed darkness of death, however, turns out to be a boy’s pocket. The child’s hand takes the chalk out into the daylight and begins to draw castles, gardens with pavilions, and the sea with the sun on the pavement. The chalk is so happy it does not even notice how it is dissolving in the drawing of this beautiful world.”
On a “blank slate” of sustained tones, flute, violins, and solo clarinet individually add line and colour—an arcing phrase reaching longingly upwards, the tension then subsiding on an extended trill. Out of an otherworldly transition, a lively fugue on plucked strings emerges (the chalk springs to life) and reaches a peak only to tumble down chromatically. The violins then take up the upward arcing melody, developing it further with more intensity. A series of brief episodes follows, with different instruments playing various figurations that evoke the chalk’s forced submission into writing “boring words, numbers, and geometric figures.” Each spurt of activity, however, disintegrates into a haunting soundscape suggesting the chalk’s growing despondency. Then, a turning point: sinewy motifs in the flutes tentatively intertwine upwards, arriving at atmospheric piano chords and harp scales; solo flute and bass clarinet muse. Suddenly, the music blooms with vibrancy, the violins singing the arcing melody against a pulsating backdrop of lush harmonies, followed by jagged phrases—the chalk’s ecstatic strokes. The marimba’s ascending scale leads into the piece’s final moments: a simple piano melody against very quiet strings. Strokes on the vibraphone complete the ethereal fadeout.
Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23
I. Allegro non troppo e molto maestoso – Allegro con spirito
II. Andantino semplice – Prestissimo
III. Allegro con fuoco
“Worthless and unplayable.” “Passages so fragmented, so clumsy, so badly written that they were beyond rescue.” “The work itself was bad, vulgar. …only two or three pages were worth preserving; the rest must be thrown away or completely rewritten.” According to Tchaikovsky in a letter to his patron Nadezhda von Meck, these were Nikolai Rubenstein’s first impressions of the composer’s first piano concerto. He had hoped Rubenstein would perform the work and had brought it to him for consultation on the solo part. Rubenstein said he’d only play it if the composer revised the work substantially. Greatly offended, Tchaikovsky said that he would not alter one note and offered Hans von Bülow the premiere instead, which occurred in Boston on October 24, 1875, on one of von Bülow’s tours. While critics were initially skeptical about the piece, it was a huge success with the audience.
And it has remained beloved and popular in the concert hall today. (Initial drama aside, Rubenstein eventually warmed to the piece, conducting it and playing the solo part himself; Tchaikovsky ultimately did make some revisions.) Compared to concertos written earlier in the 19th century, this one is of unprecedented grand scale, with piano and orchestra as equals in the unfolding of its drama. The piano part demands much from the soloist, not only virtuosic technical displays—double octave passages, quicksilver runs, rhapsodic cadenzas, and the like—but also deep expressiveness. The large orchestral part is symphonic in scope and sophistication, presenting and developing musical material in intense dialogue with the pianist.
This concerto’s emotional appeal owes much to Tchaikovsky’s unforgettable melodies. After a stern horn call, it opens with a soaring melody played by the violins and cellos, accompanied by majestic chords on the piano. While the tune only appears in the work’s introduction, certain aspects of it are subtly embedded in later motifs. Moreover, its passionate character connects it to the lyrical themes in the concerto’s other movements.
Providing striking contrast are several melodies based on popular tunes. The lively main theme of the first movement proper is based on a street song accompanied by the hurdy-gurdy that Tchaikovsky had heard in Ukraine. In the second movement, following the tender lullaby, the sparkling middle section features the orchestra playing a French popular tune, “Il faut s’amuser, danser et rire”, that Tchaikovsky’s brother Modest recalled he and his brothers singing together frequently in the early 1870s. The spirited first theme of the third movement is a Ukrainian spring song, while the Russian folk tune “I am going to Tsar-gorod” is the basis of the second theme. It is the latter’s expansive melody that, following a technical firework of a piano cadenza, forms the magnificent climax of the movement. Together, orchestra and piano present it in full glory—thereby closing the grand lyrical arc that was introduced at the beginning of the concerto—after which they hurtle to a dazzling finish.
Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70
I. Allegro maestoso
II. Poco adagio
III. Scherzo: Vivace
IV. Finale: Allegro
In the early 1880s, Dvořák found himself at an artistic crossroads. He was rapidly gaining renown as a Czech composer, but with rising nationalistic fervour in his homeland also came growing anti-Czech sentiment in Vienna and Germany, places that were crucial in expanding the dissemination of his music and his reputation. Thus, as his international fame developed, Dvořák faced mounting pressure to choose a “side”: whether to write music that was in solidarity with his compatriots at the risk of remaining a “provincial” composer, or to pursue a more “international” (i.e., Austro-German) style, as his friends Johannes Brahms and Eduard Hanslick encouraged him to do, that would make his works more appealing abroad.
It was within this context that he wrote the Seventh Symphony. Composed between 1884 and 1885, the work fulfilled a commission by the Philharmonic Society in London, where Dvořák had become a figure of significant standing. On April 22, 1885, he conducted the premiere, which was received with great applause. In the view of many music scholars, the work marks a turning point in the composer’s symphonic writing, possibly reflecting his struggle to reconcile the artistic paths that laid before him during this period. Indeed, the music seems to reveal him wrestling with integrating Czech elements—so much a part of his melodic expression—with Germanic technique (as exemplified in Brahms’s music), which prioritized formal coherence through the tightly wrought development of motivic ideas. Moreover, forceful rhythms, strong dynamic contrasts, and gripping melodies give this symphony an intense and moody edge.
A pedal note sounds from the depths; over top, the main theme of the first movement is introduced very quietly by violas and cellos—a sombre roiling melody with an energetic rhythmic tail, which will become a driving force. An initial climax is reached, and after a brief, tender duet between horn and oboe, the main theme is re-asserted at full blast by the orchestra. Later, the lilting second theme, first played by flutes and clarinets, then taken up by the violins, provides a serene respite in the major mode, before the opening melody reappears and builds to triumph. In the middle section, the forceful tail is further developed, followed by the second theme. The main theme also endures new struggles, ultimately arriving at a grand presentation at the beginning of the recapitulation, which then quickly segues to the second theme. Further turbulence peaks in the coda, then subsides; the horns intone the main melody like a melancholy reflection, and the movement ends quietly.
The Poco adagio features three contrasting ideas: a hymn-like tune initially played by clarinet, enriched by oboe and bassoons; an anguished questioning phrase in the violins and cellos, answered by stern trombones; and a luminous horn call. Each, in turn, are given extended treatment, but in the development section, the third idea dominates. Following a meandering transition, the hymn returns, this time imbued with passionate warmth by the cellos. The second idea is also reprised with more intensity and reaches a climax, after which there’s an abbreviated reminiscence of the horn call. A final meditative rendition of the hymn by the oboe closes the movement.
In the Scherzo, Dvořák cleverly combines two dances—one, a robust Czech furiant introduced by the violins, the other, a sweeping Viennese waltz played by bassoons and cellos—as if showing how his artistic “sides” could be united in his music. As the dances make their way through the instruments, they gain ferocity, coming to a bold climax. The Trio offers a pastoral interlude, featuring a gentle tune with a climbing phrase played by oboe, answered by the flute with bird-like trills. After a perky dialogue between violins and woodwinds, the climbing motif develops, building with energy to the return of the Scherzo. Later, after a reflective moment, the forceful rhythms of the furiant take over, driving the movement to an exhilarating conclusion.
The finale opens with a theme consisting of a leap followed by a winding line—its chromatic inflections give it a Slavic character. Appearing somewhat ominously at first in the clarinets and cellos, it’s ultimately transformed, after several march-like passages, into a defiant cry by the violins, punctuated by trumpets. A rigorous dance in the strings follows, eventually ending up in a sunnier place—an easy-going tune sung by cellos. In the central section, the main melody’s motifs are developed, almost obsessively. The evolving tumult finally arrives at a climactic statement of the opening melody by the violins, but then moves quickly on to the cellos’ sunny song, which builds to yet another peak via the dance’s energetic rhythms. In the coda, the music gets increasingly agitated, hurtling forward until suddenly, it slows down dramatically to make way for a final majestic proclamation of the main theme. At last, the sombre D minor resolves into D-major glory—hope at the end of the struggle.
Program notes by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD
Artists
The rising Israeli conductor Elinor Rufeizen has distinguished herself as a compelling presence on the podium and in the opera pit. She was recently named an Equilibrium Young Artist and will be working with her mentor, singer-conductor Barbara Hannigan, throughout the 2022–23 season, in addition to making her debut at the Stadttheater Giessen, and serving brief stints as an assistant conductor at the New York Philharmonic and National Symphony Orchestra (Washington, D.C.).
Elinor has conducted the Haifa Symphony Orchestra, New Jersey Symphony, Orchestre de Chambre de Paris, Juilliard Orchestra, Bridgeport Symphony, and the Metropolis Ensemble. She was also a conducting fellow at the Dallas Opera and was selected to work with Riccardo Muti and conduct Nabucco with Orchestra Giovanile Luigi Cherubini in Fondazione Prada, Milan. In 2022–23, Elinor makes her Jacksonville Symphony and NAC Orchestra debuts.
She has collaborated with many artists, among them Emanuel Ax, Daniil Trifonov, and Susan Graham; members of the Ébène, Kronos, Juilliard, and Cleveland Quartets; and living composers—Jörg Widmann, Shulamit Ran, Steven Stucky, Steven Mackey, Philippe Hersant, and Andrew Norman.
Elinor graduated from The Juilliard School with a master’s degree in orchestral conducting, studying with Alan Gilbert and David Robertson. She is a recipient of the Bruno Walter Memorial Scholarship, Charles Schiff Conducting Award for Outstanding Achievement, Morse Teaching Fellowship award, and scholarships from the American-Israel Cultural Foundation. Initially a clarinettist, she received a bachelor’s degree at the Cleveland Institute of Music and studied at the Conservatoire Nationale Supérieur de Musique et de Danse de Paris.
Gabriela Montero’s visionary interpretations and unique compositional gifts have garnered her critical acclaim and a devoted following on the world stage. Anthony Tommasini remarked in the New York Times that “Montero’s playing had everything: crackling rhythmic brio, subtle shadings, steely power…soulful lyricism…unsentimental expressivity.”
Montero’s 2023–2024 season will feature performances of her own “Latin” Concerto on an extensive U.S. tour with Mexico City’s Orquesta Sinfónica de Minería and Carlos Miguel Prieto, as well as with the New World Symphony, the Polish National Radio Symphony, the Antwerp Symphony, and the NAC Orchestra, the latter with which she continues a flourishing four-year Creative Partnership through 2025.
Celebrated for her exceptional musicality and ability to improvise, Montero has performed with many of the world’s leading orchestras, including the New York Philharmonic, the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig, the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, and the Yomiuri Nippon Symphony Orchestra. A graduate and Fellow of the Royal Academy of Music in London, she is also a frequent recitalist and chamber musician, having given concerts at such distinguished venues as Wigmore Hall, Carnegie Hall, Vienna Konzerthaus, Sydney Opera House, and the National Concert Hall in Taipei.
An award-winning and bestselling recording artist, her most recent album, released on the Orchid Classics label, features her own “Latin” Concerto and Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, recorded with the Orchestra of the Americas in Frutillar, Chile. Montero made her formal debut as a composer with Ex Patria, a tone poem designed to illustrate and protest Venezuela’s descent into lawlessness, corruption, and violence.
Winner of the 4th International Beethoven Award, Montero is a committed advocate for human rights whose voice regularly reaches beyond the concert hall. She was also awarded the 2012 Rockefeller Award for her contribution to the arts and was a featured performer at Barack Obama’s 2008 Presidential Inauguration.
Canada’s National Arts Centre (NAC) Orchestra is praised for the passion and clarity of its performances, its visionary learning and engagement programs, and its unwavering support of Canadian creativity. The NAC Orchestra is based in Ottawa, Canada’s national capital, and has grown into one of the country’s most acclaimed and dynamic ensembles since its founding in 1969. Under the leadership of Music Director Alexander Shelley, the NAC Orchestra reflects the fabric and values of Canada, engaging communities from coast to coast to coast through inclusive programming, compelling storytelling, and innovative partnerships.
Since taking the helm in 2015, Shelley has shaped the Orchestra’s artistic vision, building on the legacy of his predecessor, Pinchas Zukerman, who led the ensemble for 16 seasons. Shelley’s influence extends beyond the NAC. He serves as Principal Associate Conductor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in the U.K. and Artistic and Music Director of Artis—Naples and the Naples Philharmonic in the U.S. Shelley’s leadership is complemented by Principal Guest Conductor John Storgårds and Principal Youth Conductor Daniel Bartholomew-Poyser. In 2024, the Orchestra marked a new chapter with the appointment of Henry Kennedy as its first-ever Resident Conductor.
The Orchestra has a rich history of partnerships with renowned artists such as James Ehnes, Angela Hewitt, Renée Fleming, Hilary Hahn, Jeremy Dutcher, Jan Lisiecki, Ray Chen and Yeol Eum Son, underscoring its reputation as a destination for world-class talent. As one of the most accessible, inclusive and collaborative orchestras in the world, the NAC Orchestra uses music as a universal language to communicate the deepest of human emotions and connect people through shared experiences.
A hallmark of the NAC Orchestra is its national and international tours. The Orchestra has performed concerts in every Canadian province and territory and earned frequent invitations to perform abroad. These tours spotlight Canadian composers and artists, bringing their voices to stages across North America, the U.K., Europe, and Asia.
Conductor Juliane Gallant works both in Canada and in the UK, where she trained at the National Opera Studio and the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. An Opera Awards Foundation recipient, Juliane has led productions for the Highlands Opera Studio, Gothic Opera, Hampstead Garden Opera, King’s Head Theatre, Opera on Location, St Paul’s Opera, Opera Up Close, Opera Mio, and the Clapham Opera Festival. In 2021, she made her Royal Opera House conducting debut in Mami Wata as part of the Engender Festival in collaboration with Pegasus Opera. She has appeared as a guest conductor with the Kingston Symphony Orchestra, the Nova Scotia Youth Symphony, and the Hallam Sinfonia.
In 2020, Juliane was named one of two conductors in the inaugural cohort of Tapestry Opera’s Women in Musical Leadership Fellowship program, in partnership with Toronto Symphony Orchestra and Pacific Opera Victoria.
Juliane holds degrees from the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, Université de Moncton, University of Ottawa, and Conservatoire de musique et d’art dramatique de Montréal.
NAC Orchestra
First violins
Yosuke Kawasaki (concert master)
Jessica Linnebach (associate concertmaster)
Noémi Racine Gaudreault (assistant concertmaster)
Emily Kruspe
Marjolaine Lambert
Frédéric Moisan
Carissa Klopoushak
Zhengdong Liang
*Erica Miller
*Martine Dubé
*Renée London
*Oleg Chelpanov
Second violins
Mintje van Lier (principal)
Winston Webber (assistant principal)
Jeremy Mastrangelo
Emily Westell
Manuela Milani
Leah Roseman
Karoly Sziladi
Mark Friedman
**Edvard Skerjanc
*Heather Schnarr
*Andréa Armijo Fortin
Violas
Jethro Marks (principal)
David Marks (associate principal)
David Goldblatt (assistant principal)
Paul Casey
David Thies-Thompson
*Kelvin Enns
*Sonya Probst
Cellos
Rachel Mercer (principal)
**Julia MacLaine (assistant principal)
Leah Wyber
Marc-André Riberdy
Timothy McCoy
*Karen Kang
*Sonya Matoussova
*Thaddeus Morden
Double basses
*Joel Quarrington (guest principal)
Max Cardilli (assistant principal)
Vincent Gendron
Marjolaine Fournier
**Hilda Cowie
*Paul Mach
Flutes
**Joanna G'froerer (principal)
Stephanie Morin
*Kaili Maimets
*Lara Deutsch
Oboes
Charles Hamann (principal)
Anna Petersen
English Horn
Anna Petersen
Clarinets
Kimball Sykes (principal)
Sean Rice
*Shauna Barker
*Juan Olivares
Bassoons
Darren Hicks (principal)
Vincent Parizeau
Horns
Lawrence Vine (principal)
Julie Fauteux (associate principal)
Elizabeth Simpson
Lauren Anker
**Louis-Pierre Bergeron
*Olivier Brisson
Trumpets
Karen Donnelly (principal)
Steven van Gulik
*Amy Horvey
Trombones
*Robert Conquer (guest principal)
Colin Traquair
*David Pell
Timpani
*Marc-André Lalonde (guest principal)
Percussion
Jonathan Wade
Harp
*Angela Schwarzkopf
Piano
*Frederic Lacroix
Principal Librarian
Nancy Elbeck
Assistant Librarian
Corey Rempel
Personnel Manager
Meiko Lydall
Assistant Personnel Manager
Laurie Shannon
*Additional musicians
**On Leave
International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees