Jaeden Izik-Dzurko's Debut

and John Storgårds Conducts Nielsen & Saariaho

2024-11-20 20:00 2024-11-21 22:00 60 Canada/Eastern 🎟 NAC: Jaeden Izik-Dzurko's Debut

https://nac-cna.ca/en/event/36127

In-person event

PROGRAM UPDATE (November 14, 2024): British Columbia-born pianist Jaeden Izik-Dzurko, the 2024 winner of the Leeds International Piano Competition and the Concours musical international de Montréal, will make his debut with the NAC Orchestra, performing Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2. Update from Hilary Hahn: Violinist Hilary Hahn must regrettably withdraw from all planned concerts through the end of November, including her performances with the NAC Orchestra, as she recovers from a...

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Southam Hall,1 Elgin Street,Ottawa,Canada
November 20 - 21, 2024
November 20 - 21, 2024

≈ 2 hours · With intermission

Last updated: November 14, 2024

PROGRAM UPDATE

British Columbia-born pianist Jaeden Izik-Dzurko, the 2024 winner of the Leeds International Piano Competition and the Concours musical international de Montréal, will make his debut with the NAC Orchestra, performing Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2.

Update from Hilary Hahn: Violinist Hilary Hahn must regrettably withdraw from all planned concerts through the end of November, including her performances with the NAC Orchestra, as she recovers from a double-pinched nerve. As part of her treatment, her medical team advised her to abstain from strenuous performance and travel for the time being.  

Program

National Arts Centre Orchestra
John Storgårds, conductor
Jaeden Izik-Dzurko, piano

KAIJA SAARIAHO Ciel d’hiver (Winter Sky) (10 minutes)

CARL NIELSEN Symphony No. 2, Op. 16, “The Four Temperaments” (35 minutes)
I. Allegro collerico
II. Allegro comodo e flemmatico
III. Andante malincolico
IV. Allegro sanguineo

INTERMISSION

JOHANNES BRAHMS Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 83 (48 minutes)
I. Allegro non troppo
II. Allegro appassionato
III. Andante
IV. Allegretto grazioso

Repertoire

KAIJA SAARIAHO

Ciel d’hiver (Winter Sky)

Kaija Saariaho (1952–2023) was a leading voice of her gener­ation of composers, in her native Finland and worldwide. She studied compo­sition in Helsinki, Freiburg, and Paris, where she lived from 1982 to her death. Her studies and research at IRCAM, the Parisian centre for electroacoustic exper­i­men­tation, had a major influence on her music, and her charac­ter­is­ti­cally luxuriant and myste­rious textures were often created by combining live performance and electronics.

After her breakthrough piece Lichtbogen for ensemble and electronics in 1986, Saariaho gradually expanded her musical expression to a great variety of genres, and her chamber pieces and choral music have become staples of instru­mental and vocal ensembles, respectively. She rose to inter­na­tional prominence as the composer of works taken up by orchestras around the world, including symphonic pieces, six concertos, and five major symphonic song cycles. Her broadest public and critical recognition came from her work in the field of opera, including most recently Innocence (2020), which was termed Saariaho’s “masterpiece” by The New York Times. Saariaho claimed major composing awards such as the Grawemeyer Award, the Nemmers Prize, the Sonning Prize, and the Polar Music Prize, and two of her recordings have received Grammy Awards.

Saariaho’s life was prematurely interrupted by a brain tumor in 2023. Her musical legacy is carried forward by a broad network of collab­o­rators with whom she has worked closely over the years, and her publisher Chester Music Ltd.

Ciel d’hiver (Winter Sky) is an arrangement Saariaho made in 2013 of the second movement of her orchestral piece Orion, originally written for the Cleveland Orchestra in 2002. It was commissioned by the Musique Nouvelle en Liberté, and was premiered by the Orchestre Lamoureux conducted by Fayçal Karoui, at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris on April 7, 2014.

Using unexpected and nuanced blends of the various timbres and effects of a large orchestra, Saariaho evokes the austere grandeur of a winter sky. The piece opens with a shivering backdrop created by harp, piano, and strings. Overtop, solo piccolo plays a haunting melody based on a three-note descending motive, which is then taken up in turn by solo violin, clarinet, oboe, and muted trumpet. Gradually, the backdrop begins to shift, as the texture thickens through the layering of the three-note motive played at varying speeds and melodies on other instruments. This culminates on a series of woodwind and brass chords, after which statements of the three-note motive trigger responses from the abyss. A large sound mass soon becomes more energetic, animated by tone colours fluctuating within its density. Later, the brass outlines several stacks of rising notes, as if climbing to the sky’s infinite heights. An icily ethereal soundscape emerges—harp, piano, celesta, and violins in their highest registers, plus the sparkling pings of crotales—against which solo cello plays fragments, before fading out with a shimmering cloud of sound.

Composer biography edited from saariaho.org/about; program note to Ciel d’hiver by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

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

JOHANNES BRAHMS

Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 83

I. Allegro non troppo
II. Allegro appassionato
III. Andante
IV. Allegretto grazioso

The Second Piano Concerto of Johannes Brahms (1833–1897) has symphonic ambitions uncommon in a concerto—its unusual four-movement form is proof of that—though Brahms, with characteristic self-deprecation, called it “a tiny, tiny concerto with a tiny, tiny wisp of a scherzo.” The work has a noble bearing, and its ample proportions are apparent already in the leisurely opening dialogue of horn and piano. The dramatic range is extraordinary. When not scaling Olympian heights, the music is often relaxed, lyrical, charming, sometimes delicately scored, yet there are dark and turbulent moments, too, and strange digressions.

The broadly scaled first movement sets the tone for the whole concerto—it is brimming with melodies and motives, all of which Brahms, with seemingly limitless imagination, extends and links, varies and develops, in ever-shifting piano-orchestra settings. In all four movements, clear, solid structures contain but do not quell the wonderful sense of colour and fantasy and perpetual metamorphosis in this music. For all its debts to Classical models, this is a Romantic concerto par excellence.

The orchestral part is powerfully conceived, and by no means subservient, as it is in so many Romantic concertos, yet it never overwhelms the piano part, which is unusually brilliant, rhapsodic—and monstrously difficult. This is one of the most difficult piano concertos in the repertory, full of treacherous technical hurdles: fast, leaping staccato octaves, double thirds in both hands at once, massive chords in quick succession. The piano part is so virtuosic that formal cadenzas are moot—the piece itself is a cadenza!

The “tiny, tiny wisp of a scherzo” is in reality a fierce and hard-driven movement, developed at length though adhering in broadest outline to three-part Classical minuet-and-trio form. Brahms wrote it, he said, because the first movement was “too harmless” on its own; the scherzo further sets the heartbreaking beauty of the slow movement in maximum relief.

The Andante opens with a broad, luscious cantilena played by solo cello. The piano never plays this melody; instead, it comments on the melody in a kind of extended recitative, which grows anguished and dissonant in the middle of the movement. After a hushed, deeply moving transition, the great melody returns in the cello; the piano ornaments it, and the two instruments come together tenderly at the end.

The finale of this mighty concerto comes as a surprise, for though spacious it is light and witty, gracious and relaxed, free of storm and stress—at times even childlike, kittenish (the trumpets and drums are silent throughout.) The form is a clear, simple rondo, with half a dozen distinct, mostly lighthearted themes. As in the finales of Brahms’s other three concertos, the Roma idiom is prominent—most obviously in the one theme in a minor key, which would be right at home in a Hungarian Dance.

Program note by Kevin Bazzana, courtesy of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra

Artists

  • storgards8-high
    Conductor John Storgårds
  • jaeden-izik-dzurko
    Piano Jaeden Izik-Dzurko
  • bio-orchestra
    Featuring NAC Orchestra

NAC Orchestra

First Violins
Yosuke Kawasaki (concertmaster)
Jessica Linnebach (associate concertmaster)
Noémi Racine Gaudreault (assistant concertmaster)
Jeremy Mastrangelo
Marjolaine Lambert
Jeffrey Dyrda
Carissa Klopoushak
Manuela Milani
*Renée London
*Heather Schnarr
*Oleg Chelpanov
*John Corban
*Erica Miller
*Sarah Williams

Second Violins
Emily Kruspe (principal)
Emily Westell
Frédéric Moisan
Leah Roseman
Jessy Kim
Mark Friedman
Edvard Skerjanc
**Winston Webber
Karoly Sziladi
*Andrea Armijo Fortin
*Martine Dubé
*Sara Mastrangelo
*Veronica Thomas

Violas
Jethro Marks (principal)
David Marks (associate principal)
David Goldblatt (assistant principal)
David Thies-Thompson
Paul Casey
**Tovin Allers
*Sonya Probst
*Pamela Fay
*Brenna Hardy-Kavanagh

Cellos
Rachel Mercer (principal)
Julia MacLaine (assistant principal)
Leah Wyber
Timothy McCoy
Marc-André Riberdy
*Desiree Abbey
*Karen Kang
*Thaddeus Morden

Double Basses
Sam Loeck (principal)
Max Cardilli (assistant principal)
Vincent Gendron
**Marjolaine Fournier
*Paul Mach
*Doug Ohashi
*Elan Simon

Flutes
Joanna G’froerer (principal)
Stephanie Morin
*Dakota Martin

Oboes
Charles Hamann (principal)
Anna Petersen
*Melissa Scott

English Horn
Anna Petersen

Clarinets
Kimball Sykes (principal)
Sean Rice

Bassoons
Darren Hicks (principal)
Vincent Parizeau

Horns
*Patty Evans (guest principal)
Julie Fauteux (associate principal)
Lauren Anker
Louis-Pierre Bergeron
*Olivier Brisson
*Micajah Sturgess

Trumpets
Karen Donnelly (principal)
Steven van Gulik
*Michael Fedyshyn
*Amy Horvey

Trombones
*Jose Milton Vieira (guest principal)
*Nate Fanning

Bass Trombone
Zachary Bond

Tuba
Chris Lee (principal)

Timpani
*Michael Kemp (guest principal)

Percussion
Jonathan Wade
Andrew Johnson

Harp
*Angela Schwarzkopf (guest principal)

Piano
*Olga Gross
*Frédéric Lacroix

Principal Librarian
Nancy Elbeck

Assistant Librarian
Corey Rempel

Personnel Manager
Meiko Lydall

Assistant Personnel Manager
Ruth Rodriguez Rivera

Orchestra Personnel Coordinator
Laurie Shannon

*Additional musicians
**On leave

The National Arts Centre Foundation would like to thank Mark Motors Group, Official Car of the NAC Orchestra, and Earle O’Born & Janice O’Born, C.M., O.Ont.

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