February 3 Program Notes
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Richard Strauss (1864-1949)
Tone Poem, Tod und Verklarung (Death and Transfiguration), Op. 24

Richard Strauss had written two tone poems–"Macbeth" and "Don Juan"–before he began work on "Death and Transfiguration" at the age of 25. The new composition represented a departure of Strauss from literary sources to a narrative of his own imagination.

Numerous scholars have attempted to explain–with limited success–why, at such a young age, the composer was drawn away from literary sources to such a portentous, inward-looking subject as death.

Some have speculated that Strauss must have endured a serious sickness of his own. Some have pointed to the "melancholic spirit of the dying century," an era also captivated by the theories of Freud. Some have pointed to Strauss’ reading of the pessimistic philosophies of Schopenhauer.

 Strauss’ own accounting of the genesis of "Death and Transfiguration" is not likely to put such speculation to an end. His amusingly pedestrian explanation for the subject matter comes from a letter written to his friend Friedrich Rosch: "It was an idea like any other," he said. "Probably the musical need, after Macbeth [begins and ends in D minor] and Don Juan [begins and ends in E minor] to write a piece that begins in C minor and finishes in C major!"

The idea to illustrate the dying moments of a man who had "striven toward the highest artistic aims" first occured to him in winter, 1888. He outlined the narrative of the composition in prose, began composing according to his plan, and completed the work in November, 1889.

Once the work was completed, he asked his friend, Alexander Ritter, to write a poem based on the prose description. Strauss considered the story essential to the understanding of the music. A paraphrase of Ritter’s work is offered by Melvin Berger:

 "I. Largo. A sick man, near death, lies in a squalid room lit only by a flickering candle. The room is silent but for the dull ticking of the clock on the wall. A sad smile crosses the man’s face; perhaps he is dreaming of his happy childhood.

II. Allegro molto agitato. At the end of his life, he finds no respite from the battle between his will to live and the power of death. It is a terrifying contest, but neither emerges victorious and the silence returns.

III. Meno mosso. In his delirious state, the dying man sees his life pass before him; the innocent childhood, the testing and gaining of strength of his youth, and the battles of manhood to transfigure all that he has experienced into a still more exalted form. Death, finally puts an end to his quest.

IV. Moderato. Now, from the infinite reaches of heaven, a mighty sound of triumph rings forth, bringing the sought after transfiguration."

Certain key concepts within the narrative are assigned musical figures. Musicologist Denis Wilde identifies these thematic figures as representing "Life," "Bygone years," "Childhood," "Determination," and "Ideal."

 The introduction commences with a slow, pulsing figure, evocative of labored, dying breath. This prepares the way for the "Life" figure, a two-note descending fragment, which in turn gives way to the descending, then ascending "Bygone years" figure. Finally, the "Childhood" theme enters, descending in a minor scale.

The second section is introduced by a sudden fortissimo, a shift in tonality, and a new rhythmic pattern which will introduce the "Determination" theme–two short, restless bursts followed by a rapid descending figure. Near the conclusion of the passage, we are introduced for the first time to the "Ideal" theme, surging upward, though in truncated form.

 The third section begins in a spirit of repose, with a return of earlier thematic figures, before building into a crescendo and a second entry of the "Ideal," still unresolved.

The final struggle begins with the "irregular breathing" from the introduction, followed by a furious passage and then a lapse into extended silence as the soul leaves the body.

Finally, now that death has come, the "Ideal" reaches its full expression, peacefully, tranquilly. The scheme Strauss has laid out from the onset is articulated fully. We have witnessed, in Wilde’s words, "the dramatic implication of a theme seeking its resolution." The metaphysical implications of the "Ideal" being realized only after death give much weight to the work’s impact.

Beethoven asserted that "Music is a greater revelation than philosophy.

Strauss conducted the premiere himself, June 21, 1890, in Eisenach.

 

Richard Strauss
Four Last Songs

I. Frühling
II. September
III. Beim Schalfengehen
IV. Im Abendrot

The two works by Strauss represented on this program stretch from his early success to the last flourishing of his genius in the late 1940s.

The two are linked, however, in a poignant fashion. At 26, Strauss may have been reflecting on death in an abstract sense, but in the Four Last Songs, written when the composer was 84 death is an immediate presence.

He attested to as much in "Im Abendrot," which concludes the work. The song depicts an older couple who have traveled through their lives together. They gaze at the setting sun, and pose the question, "Is that, perhaps, death?" And, as they do, Strauss accompanies the query with the "Ideal" motif from "Death and Transfiguration."

The genesis of the work stems from a letter Strauss received in 1947 from Stephen Schaller, head of the Benedictine school where the composer’s son Franz had studied. Schaller requested that Strauss write a work that could be performed on the school’s stage by the students. This appealed to the composer, partly because of his personal connection to the school, and partly because Strauss wished to see music emphasized more firmly in Barvarian schools (more of the three "B"s as well as the three "R"s).

The project failed. The text, from a fable by Christopher Weiland, proved unwieldy, and Strauss lost interest. A few sketches of the work, "Des Essels Schatten" ("The Donkey’s Shadow") remain, but the work is judged unfinished.

 The unrealized project did, however, stoke Strauss’ interest in writing for the voice again. He found material for his newfound enthusiasm in a poem by Eichendorff, "Im Abendrot" ("In the glow of the evening"). The setting was completed on May 6, 1948, and the emotions the poem stirred within him were intense enough that he decided to score the song for full orchestra–the first time he had written for such a large ensemble since Capriccio, seven years earlier.

As radiant as the final product was, it was not sufficient as a stand-alone piece. He sought other material for an intended five-song cycle, and found it in a book of poems by Herman Hesse that he received while in vacation in Switzerland in 1948. He completed three of these by September 20, 1948. Sketches for a fourth were found on his desk after his death.

 The three Hesse poems are from different periods of the writer’s life, ranging in tone and mood from the traditional romanticism found in "Frühling," to the weariness of spirit one finds in "September."

The songs were never heard by Strauss as a group, and the composer left no instructions regarding a specific order. The first performance, by Kirsten Flagstad, with Wilhelm Furtwängler, and the first recording, by Lisa Della Casa with Karl Bohm, both present the songs in this order: Beim Schlafengehen, September, Frühling, Im Abendrot. Upon publication they were given this order–Frühling, September, Beim Schalfengehen, Im Abendrot–and it is in this order that they have swept the world.

The songs are unified by reflection on twilight, on autumn, on life passing. Ernst Krause describes the work as "a crystalline world hovering between light and darkness." If it is a farewell, however, it is not a bitter one. Strauss presents the listener with a work of refinement, of artistic purification, of radiance. These are rich, ripe, consoling works. As Michael Kennedy puts it, "It is not a winter of discontent, but an autumn harvest of fulfillment."

 

Robert Schumann (1810-1856)
Symphony No. 2 in C major, Op. 61

I. Sostenuto assai: Allegro ma non troppo
II. Scherzo: Allegro vivace
III. Adagio espressivo
IV. Allegro molto vivace

In 1844, Robert Schumann accompanied his wife Clara on her concert tour of Russia. His health had been in decline since 1843, but he returned to Leipzig reenergized and eager to work.

His recuperation was short-lived, however. As the year passed he found himself suffering from severe depression, insomnia, and numerous phobias, and went into physical collapse. It took him a full year to recover.

By summer, 1845, his mind had cleared and he began composing in earnest–some contrapuntal studies as a technical discipline, and then the piano concerto.

Two months after finishing the concerto, he wrote to his friend Mendelssohn: "For a few days now, my mind has been throbbing to the sound of trumpets and drums. I wonder what it will lead to?"

What it led to was the first sketches of Symphony No. 2, composed December 12-28, 1845. The initial work appears to have done him some good. Clara, also in a letter to Mendelssohn, writes: "My husband has recently been very busy and at Christmas he surprised and delighted me with the sketches of a new symphony. He is utterly possessed by music, and as a result, it is impossible to do anything with him. I like him that way."

Again, however, Schumann’s illnesses overcame him. In February, 1846, he developed a severe case of tinnitus–a continual ringing in the ears. By now, the composer was enduring suicidal moods. He put aside his work, and he and his wife departed for Maxen, and then to the seacoast at Norderney, to recover.

After their return, he again picked up his pen and was able to complete the work by October.

Not surprisingly, the symphony is stamped with melancholy. Schumann’s own recollection of the compositional process offers a glimpse at his state of mind and how it translated into the music.

  "I wrote the symphony when I was less than well," he wrote, "and I have the impression that one cannot but hear this in the music. Only in the last movement did I regain my strength...it reminds me of a dark period.

  "I sketched when I was still in bad shape physically. Indeed, I can perhaps say that it was the resisting power of the spirit that here had a visible influence, and through which I sought to help my bodily condition."

This struggle towards wholeness characterizes the entire work. This is both a fierce and solemn composition: a fight between light and darkness, filled with conflict, schism, and gravity.

Still, with these heightened emotional states, it is the most "absolute," of Schumann’s symphonies. Whether it was affected by the composer’s contrapuntal exercises or not, the work is aimed, in the words of Ronald Taylor, at a "sustained Classical ethos," subject, of course, to the ebb and flow of the composer’s psychological state.

One may view the work as Schumann offering the listener a symphonic confession. This is not an examination of poetic or literary imagery, but of Schumann’s own mind as he grapples with his fragility. It is a work provoked, as Gerald Abraham puts it, "by the fear of and struggle against the spectre of madness." We move, through the music, from struggle to victory.

This is Schumann’s longest symphony, bold in expression, decisive in form. Cross-references leap from movement to movement, a motto serves as unifying principle. Each movement is scored in the key of C.

The opening movement offers two contrasting themes: a clear, uplifting "resistance" theme from the brass, and a hesitant, brooding theme from the strings. The movement progresses with incremental growth. Conflicts erupt, warring elements clash, and the coda, marked "con fuoco" gives the impression that the darkness has been momentarily vanquished.

In the second movement, Schumann inverts the traditional symphonic order, placing the scherzo here instead of the adagio to follow. The movement is restless and agitated; clear tonality is obscured.

The adagio has long been recognized as one of Schumann’s most sublime utterances in his symphonic canon. Even when the symphony went into a period of neglect, this movement remained impervious to criticism. Melancholic and tranquil, this mood-picture provides solo opportunities for oboe, clarinet and bassoon. Though commenced in the minor key, it ends in the major, preparing the way for the vibrant finale.

From the robust march-like start through the long, optimistic coda, it is clear Schumann is feeling like himself again. There is a joy, a vigor, an impetuousness in Schumann’s conquest. More than one observer has likened this voyage from darkness into light to Beethoven’s similar voyage in his Symphony No. 5.

The work received its premiere on November 5, 1846 in Leipzig, with Mendelssohn conducting.