Mendelssohn, Estacio & Donnelly

with the NAC Orchestra

2024-11-28 20:00 2024-11-28 21:50 60 Canada/Eastern 🎟 NAC: Mendelssohn, Estacio & Donnelly

https://nac-cna.ca/en/event/37587

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Three things to know about the show: Mystery, shadows, and suspense abound in a pair of romantic works from Franz Schubert and Felix Mendelssohn. NACO's Principal Trumpet Karen Donnelly shines as the soloist in a work by JUNO-nominated composer John Estacio. And Wojciech Kilar's Orawa transforms the NACO...

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Online
Thu, November 28, 2024
Thu, November 28, 2024
NAC Livestream

≈ 2 hours · With intermission

Last updated: November 21, 2024

Program

National Arts Centre Orchestra
Anna Sułkowska-Migoń, conductor
Karen Donnelly, trumpet

FELIX MENDELSSOHN Die Hebriden (The Hebrides), Op. 26 (10 minutes)

JOHN ESTACIO Trumpet Concerto (25 minutes)
I. Triton’s Trumpet
II. Ballad
III. Rondo

INTERMISSION

WOJCIECH KILAR Orawa (10 minutes)

FRANZ SCHUBERT Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759, “Unfinished” (22 minutes)
I. Allegro moderato
II. Andante con moto

Repertoire

FELIX MENDELSSOHN

Die Hebriden (The Hebrides), Op. 26

In July 1829, after the close of the London concert season, Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847) embarked on a walking tour of Scotland with his friend, the diplomat Karl Klingemann. From July 26, they were in Edinburgh, exploring the city and the surrounding highlands (a visit to Holyrood Castle became the inspiration for the composer’s “Scottish” Symphony). On August 7, they arrived at Oban on the western coast and took in an impressive view of the Hebrides, which Mendelssohn, a skilled watercolourist, documented in a pen-and-ink drawing. That day, he also wrote a letter to his family, eager to convey his impressions: “In order to make you understand how extraordinarily the Hebrides affected me, the following came into my mind there.” Underneath, he had sketched out—in piano score but already with orchestration details—the first 21 measures of what would become the concert overture Die Hebriden. A few days later, after he and Klingemann had visited the island of Staffa, where Fingal’s Cave is located, Mendelssohn confirmed in an August 11 postscript to the letter that “the best I can tell you about [it] is contained in the above music.”

Despite the ease with which the opening music had originally come to Mendelssohn, he struggled with the first draft of his overture; he completed it in 1830 but continued to revise it until 1835. He also changed his mind several times about the title, shifting from Die Hebriden to The Isles of Fingal, and back again. For the premiere performance by London’s Philharmonic Society in May 1832, the overture was called Fingals Höhle (Fingal’s Cave); it soon became popularly known by that name, and to add further confusion, a subsequent piano-duet version was also published under it. These days, the overture formally goes by Die Hebriden, with “Fingals Höhle” considered a secondary title.

The concert overture was a new genre of music in the early 19th century. A standalone piece, it is typically programmatic, that is, based on an extramusical topic as described by its title—in this case, the Hebrides. Die Hebriden is the third concert overture Mendelssohn composed, and it is an exceptionally sophisticated example. It follows the basic structure of Classical sonata form—in which the main themes are presented, developed, and recapped—but in the latter section, the themes move off in new directions, thus evolving the musical narrative. Moreover, the music doesn’t just give the impression of the Hebrides as a place, but also expresses subjective feelings and inner experience—a key principle of Romantic art.

The scene is set with musical motives that conjure up the “wide gray sea” around the Hebrides (as Klingemann described it), with the ebb and flow of waves also suggesting fluctuating emotions. Lower strings and bassoon open with a wave-like figure that soon develops into a complete melody on the violins; woodwinds continue the theme, extending it upwards, against a murmuring background. Later, cellos and bassoons emerge with the second theme, a melody that surges up from the depths like a hopeful swell, which then shifts to the violins. The original wave motive returns, now urgent, and builds to a triumphant passage.

Brass fanfares and murmuring figures lead into the middle section, during which the main themes are developed. The second melody reappears, as if a wistful memory, but soon the wave motive takes over and gathers energy, eventually erupting into a stormy episode. It swiftly abates, making way for the return of the opening figure in the violas and cellos. In the ensuing recap, Mendelssohn continues to evolve the material, with the first theme reaching a new peak. After it subsides, like storm clouds parting the clarinet sings the second melody, now serene and content. The peaceful respite is brief, though, as the sea suddenly becomes tumultuous again. Furiously, the music drives forward to a huge climax, which dies out immediately afterwards. Clarinet and flute, respectively, play the falling and rising phrases of the first and second themes in succession—a final wave to quietly close the overture.

Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

John Estacio

Trumpet Concerto

I. Triton’s Trumpet
II. Ballad
III. Rondo

John Estacio (b. 1966) composed his Trumpet Concerto in celebration of Canada’s Sesquicentennial in 2017. Commissioned by an unprecedented consortium of 19 Canadian orchestras, the piece was given its world premiere by Larry Larson, then principal trumpet of the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony, on March 26 that year. The concerto has since been recorded by trumpeter Marc Geujon and the Orchestre symphonique de Mulhouse with conductor Jacques Lacombe, and appears on the album Proclamation, which was released in 2022. Tonight’s performance is the NAC Orchestra’s premiere of the piece, featuring Principal Trumpet Karen Donnelly as the soloist.

Entitled “Triton’s Trumpet”, the substantial first movement (approximately half the entire concerto’s length) “takes its inspiration from the Greek myth about Poseidon’s son, Triton, who used his conch shell as a trumpet to calm or raise the ocean waters,” says Estacio in his program note. As he describes:

The movement begins in a tranquil state and features a lyrical and florid cadenza for the solo trumpet over sustained tremulous strings. An undercurrent of disturbance by the lower brass warns that this tranquility could be disrupted but is calmed by the mellifluous tones of the trumpet.

After this introduction, the movement shifts into a lively episode—Triton playing with the ocean’s waves, perhaps, as evoked by the virtuosic passages for the soloist. The waters, though, threaten to overwhelm, and “gradually”, explains Estacio, “the discordance in the depths of the orchestra eventually takes over and builds to a giant wave of sound and energy, almost overpowering the soloist.” However, about halfway through the movement,

the soloist, as with Triton, eventually calms the waters and the tranquil music from the opening reappears, albeit in a slightly disquieting setting. The opening themes are developed with solos for the clarinets before the trumpet takes over with a revision of the opening cadenza.

Soon, “ominous tones once again overtake the tranquil mood”, and in another fast-paced section, the orchestral wave builds again. The solo trumpet manages to calm the waters once more, but only for a moment, as it’s “suddenly thrust into a more fervent tempo that eventually builds to a swirl of chaos and incivility that threatens to overtake it” at the movement’s close.

“Ballad”, the middle movement, “features extended lyrical phrases for the solo trumpet.” Strings open with “a primary melody that feels somewhat unsettled and ungrounded,” which then becomes an undulating backdrop to the trumpet’s song. “A solemn chorale played by the winds follows”; this, Estacio points out, “will eventually transform and become the driving force behind a regal-sounding climax.” It subsides to contemplative musings by the trumpet, which draw the movement to an atmospheric conclusion.

“A spirited foil to the first movement,” the third movement begins with the trumpet playing a “quixotic melody that will be reprised throughout this mercurial kaleidoscope of energy, colour, and fanfare,” notes Estacio. As per rondo form, this recurring melody alternates with extended episodes: the first features a vigorous turning melody, introduced by orchestra then taken up by the soloist; the second, tolling bells and wide leaps in the brass, with solo trumpet triggering the orchestral trumpets in an echoing fanfare. The turning melody is then further developed, eventually building—through powerful leaps on solo trumpet and brass over scurrying strings—to an exuberant reprise of the main melody. Suddenly, the orchestra halts on shuddering strings, over which the trumpet sings a rhapsodic recitative, then brings the concerto to a raucous finish.

Program note compiled, edited, and written by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

Wojciech Kilar

Orawa

Wojciech Kilar (1932–2013) is one of Poland’s major modern composers. He was particularly well-known for his film scores, working with notable directors of Polish cinema such as Kazimierz Kutz and Krzysztof Zanussi, and on English-language movies, including Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), Death and the Maiden (1994), and The Portrait of a Lady (1996). He also created a distinctive corpus of concert works that encompasses symphonic and choral music, as well as solo instrumental and chamber pieces. Taken together, they reveal Kilar’s stylistic evolution: from using avant-garde and experimental techniques during the 1960s, to a strongly nationalistic aesthetic incorporating folk elements from the mid-1970s, to finally, a turn to religious subjects—inspired by his deep Catholic faith—for his late works.

Kilar was long fascinated with the Tatras, a group of mountains that form a natural border between Poland and Slovakia. According to Polish musicologist Bogumiła Mika, he loved them because they, “more than anything else, brought him closer to God. The mountains’ mystery, mysticism, loftiness, and power reminded him of both the physical and spiritual aspects of church.” At the same time, Kilar was captivated by the way they “arouse respect and fear”, because they are inherently dangerous places. In 1974, he completed the symphonic poem Krzesany, which, in his extensive integration of highland folk music from the area, marked a significant stylistic breakthrough for him. The piece became the first of a series of Tatras-inspired works, with the fourth and last of these being Orawa, completed in 1986.

Orawa is one of Kilar’s most popular works, frequently performed internationally in its original string orchestra instrumentation, as well as in arrangements for as diverse ensembles as eight cellos, 12 saxophones, and three accordions! The title refers to “the highlanders’ sheep-run, at which mountaineers dance at the end of sheep grazing,” explains Mika. In Orawa, various melodic motives drawn from mountain folk music are developed in minimalistic fashion through their repetition among the string sections, each of which (save the double basses) are divided into multiple parts. These motives also cycle through variations in dynamics, rhythm, and texture, which gives the music its exuberantly hypnotic quality.

Orawa begins with a solo violin introducing the main folk-like motive of the piece, shifting between two high-low rhythmic versions, overtop pulsating accompaniment. Gradually, the rest of the instruments enter in turn, building up the texture, after which the motive undergoes a few variations. Violas on running figures lead to the second main motive—a downward flowing melody first played by solo cello. Violins then take it up, soon bringing us to another rustic tune. Later, after an energetic passage of glissandos and a measured ascent, the opening motive in its original form returns on solo violin and is soon combined with the downward flowing melody high up on other violins. The music then abruptly plunges to the deeper registers of the lower strings playing the running figures. Eventually, the violins join in and all together, the strings play a vigorous dance that gets increasingly wild and ferocious. It peaks on an ecstatic return of the main theme, now alternating with rising chromatic scales on which the orchestra seems to get stuck in a loop and must stop. But the strings regroup, singing a fervent chorale, before releasing a boisterous final shout.

Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

FRANZ SCHUBERT

Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759 “Unfinished”

I. Allegro moderato
II. Andante con moto

An aura of mystery has long surrounded the origins and history of the “unfinished” B minor symphony of Viennese composer Franz Schubert (1797–1828). In 1822, he had completed and fully orchestrated the first two movements. He had also written, in full score, the first two pages of a scherzo, possibly the third movement; their existence suggests that he had planned a four-movement symphony, but ultimately, he did not continue the project. In 1823, in gratitude to the Graz Music Society for awarding him an honorary diploma, Schubert sent his friend and leading member of the Society Anselm Hüttenbrenner these finished parts of his latest orchestral score. For reasons that remain a mystery, Hüttenbrenner kept them concealed until 1860, when he revealed them to the conductor Johann von Herbeck. Dumbfounded at the discovery, Herbeck eventually conducted the premiere of the work’s two completed movements in Vienna on December 17, 1865—37 years after the composer’s death. His efforts helped to establish Schubert internationally, with subsequent performances of the “unfinished” symphony taking place soon after in Germany, England, France, and North America.

Although there have been arguments made in support of various attempts to complete the work, the B minor symphony has endured in its two-movement form, as one of Schubert’s orchestral masterpieces. In it, he brought to fruition his own individual, subjective conception of Classical symphonic form (as developed by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven), thereby pushing the genre to new heights of creative expression. For one, the first movement is in B minor—a key that had, until then, been generally avoided in the symphonic literature. Schubert exploits its harmonic potential to evoke a hitherto unprecedented sense of pathos, the first of two emotional realms he juxtaposes in the movement. The Allegro moderato begins with sombre phrases, rising and falling on cellos and basses, after which violins establish and maintain a backdrop of nervous energy, as oboe and clarinet introduce a mournful tune. Sudden accented chords inject anxiety and urgency, as the music reaches an initial climax. Afterwards, bassoons and horns initiate an astonishing shift to the realm of sunny G major, featuring an assuring melody first sung by cellos over syncopated accompaniment. It’s taken up by violins, but soon peters out to a pause; then, as if suddenly afflicted, the earlier anxieties return. Later, the soothing second theme reappears, but as soon as it resolves, a loud chord brings us back immediately to the B minor realm, and the exposition is repeated.

On the third appearance of the sombre opening, we enter the central development section, where this theme is worked up into agonizing cries; listen for the extreme contrasts between those and the quiet statements of the cello melody’s syncopated accompaniment. A forceful statement of the theme on full orchestra triggers a stormy passage, with furious strings and ferocious rhythms. Gradually, the fury subsides, leading back to the recapitulation, which avoids the sombre opening and goes directly to the plaintive tune on the clarinet and oboe. The music proceeds as before, with some variation. As it comes out of the realm of the consoling melody, the sombre theme that was bypassed in the reprise now returns, and swells to a final climax. Its opening phrase is mournfully reiterated, and four chords bring this most anguished of symphonic movements to an end.

The second movement takes us far away from the angst of the first to a place of otherworldly serenity. Three shifting chords on horns and bassoons overtop a descending plucked bass line arrive at an exquisitely tender theme, sung by the violins in ethereal E major. Its peaceful progress suddenly breaks out into a forceful passage, but then, just as abruptly, returns to tranquility. The ensuing section features a poignant melody, beginning on clarinet then continuing on oboe, accompanied by gently pulsating violins and violas; the subtly shifting harmonies are a Schubertian hallmark. Soon, however, the delicate atmosphere is torn by a full-orchestra outburst, with the haunting clarinet tune now forming a mighty bass line. The theme is then quietly contemplated by the violins and cellos in counterpoint, eventually dissolving into a single repeated phrase, which returns us to the opening mood.

The themes are once again worked through but with variations; for example, the second theme now begins on oboe, and is answered by the clarinet, and at the orchestral outburst, the melody appears in the violins. Eventually, woodwinds and horns wind down the music. Out of the quiet, the violins emerge, twice, with a sustained note to which the woodwinds respond with the opening phrase of the tender melody, first making a surprising harmonic shift (to the far-removed key of A-flat major), then back to E major, on which the movement comes to a gentle conclusion. In ending with this rarified sound world, it’s not difficult to consider that, perhaps, Schubert may have felt unable to add more to the symphony. To an extent, what he left us feels complete as is—the two movements a seemingly perfect balance of lyrical pathos and poignant serenity.

Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD

Artists

  • anna-sulkowska-migon
    Conductor Anna Sułkowska-Migoń
  • Trumpet Karen Donnelly
  • Composer John Estacio
  • bio-orchestra
    NAC Orchestra
  • hunt-mccoy-tobi-fred-cattroll-535
    Stage Manager Tobi Hunt McCoy

NAC Orchestra

First Violins
Yosuke Kawasaki (concertmaster)
Jessica Linnebach (associate concertmaster)
Noémi Racine Gaudreault (assistant concertmaster)
Jeffrey Dyrda
Marjolaine Lambert
Jeremy Mastrangelo
Carissa Klopoushak
Manuela Milani
*Martine Dubé
*Erica Miller

Second Violins
Emily Kruspe (principal)
Emily Westell
Frédéric Moisan
Leah Roseman
Jessy Kim
Mark Friedman
Edvard Skerjanc
Karoly Sziladi
**Winston Webber
*Renée London

Violas
Jethro Marks (principal)
David Marks (associate principal)
David Goldblatt (assistant principal)
David Thies-Thompson
Tovin Allers
Paul Casey

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

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

Flutes
Joanna G’froerer (principal)
Stephanie Morin

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
*Rebekah Daley (guest principal)
Julie Fauteux (associate principal)
Lauren Anker
Louis-Pierre Bergeron
*Olivier Brisson

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

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)

Principal Librarian
Nancy Elbeck

Assistant Librarian
Corey Rempel

Personnel Manager
Meiko Lydall

Assistant Personnel Manager
Ruth Rodriguez Rivera

Orchestra Personnel Coordinator
Laurie Shannon

Stage Manager
Tobi Hunt McCoy

*Additional musicians
**On leave