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III.
Storytelling Through Music
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| Saturday, March 17, 7:30 p.m. |
Hudson High School |
| Sunday,
March 18, 3:30 p.m. |
Congregation B'nai Shalom,
Westborough
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Dvorak |
Symphonic Poem The Water
Goblin
with a mime
performance by the Hudson High School Advanced
Performance Class, Wendy Sweet and Paul Johnson,
directors |
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Copland |
Old American Songs
with the Pro Musica Youth Chorus, Jan
Patterson, Director |
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Poulenc |
The Story of Babar
with narrator Margo Miller | |
The Water Goblin
Op. 107 (1896)
In his 55th year, the
year following writing his great Cello Concerto, and three
years after his last symphony, From the New
World, Dvorak had two major ambitions remaining. First, he
still longed to be a successful opera composer and so far, his
four full operas and four operettas had been somewhat
disappointingly received. Second, he was determined to leave
behind a truly Czech musical legacy in addition to his
internationally acclaimed symphonies and other music. Perhaps
consciously or unconsciously he was thinking of the way in
which his much revered predecessor Bedrich Smetana (1824-1884)
was still loved by the people, particularly for the cycle of
six symphonic poems Ma
Vlast
(My Fatherland) and the opera, The Bartered
Bride. So it was that, at the height of his orchestral
abilities, and with a desire to reduce his traveling and
settle down to a more comfortable life, Dvorak embarked upon a
set of several symphonic poems inspired by the ballads of
Czech folklorist Karel Erben (1811-1870). He worked on these
more or less exclusively for the two years 1896-7, completing
four Erben-based poems and one based on his own ideas
(The
Hero's Song). They take consecutive opus numbers 107-111, of which
The
Water Goblin is the first. His other great ambition was realized by
his ever-popular folkloric opera Rusalka (presented by SPM in
1998), which was completed in 1900 and bears the opus number
114. The Erben ballads are, naturally, steeped in the
rustic folklore of the Bohemian people, complete with witches,
maidens, goblins, kings, as well as ordinary country folk. The
typically gruesome stories, like many traditional European
fairy tales, can be interpreted, depending on your point of
view, either as great folk literature, as morality tales, or
maybe just rather lurid entertainment. Dvorak was clearly a
great believer in their literary importance and had earlier
set one of them, The Spectre's
Bride, to music as a cantata. Vodnik (The Water Goblin),
unlike his namesake in Rusalka, is a thoroughly
selfish predator of young women. Don't be fooled by his rather
pleasant theme in the opening measures. The three stressed
beats are destined to take on more on more ominous tones
throughout the piece. In general, though not in this first
theme, Dvorak used a rather direct technique of setting the
poems to music: his themes are deliberately designed to fit
the rhythms and inflexions of the poetry. This is no doubt
very significant to those who know the ballads well in the
original Czech. You, our audience, must make do with the stage
interpretations, together with these notes. To return to our
eponymous anti-hero, he is in such high spirits as he sits in
a poplar above the lake because he is planning the watery
abduction of his future wife. Our heroine, a nameless country
girl, expresses her longing to go to the lake while her
mother, forewarned by a dream, begs her to stay at home. True
to the spirit of folk-lore, the girl ignores her mothers
protestations and almost immediately after arriving, the plank
she steps on gives way and, as she falls deeper and deeper
into the water, is accompanied by the Water Goblin, who takes
her for his wife. They live cheerlessly at the bottom of the
lake where the girl's only comfort is their infant son. After
a while, she pleads to be allowed to visit her mother. At
first irritated, the goblin eventually agrees on condition
that she be back before the ringing of the bell for vespers.
But she fails to return at the appointed hour and the goblin
goes to the mother's cottage to ask for the girl's return.
When he is ignored, he exacts his cruel revenge…
I bought me a
cat; I
bought me a cat; Simple Gifts; The Little Horses; Zion's
Walls; At the River; Ching-a-ring Chaw
Aaron Copland, born in
New York not long after his father and mother had emigrated
from Russia, became perhaps the most American of American
musicians, eagerly embracing the sounds and culture of his
native country, especially in song and dance. Although he
dabbled a little with Jazz, it is his music of the ordinary
people for which he is best remembered: especially
Fanfare for the Common Man, Appalachian Spring,
and Rodeo. No matter what the
subject matter, though, he always imparts his own brilliant
style of harmony and orchestration to any composition. The two
sets of Old American Songs, from which we sample
here, are a case in point. As the name implies, these are all
traditional songs, mostly from the 19th century and, if
accompanied at all, were not accustomed to performance with
the coloration and dynamics made possible by a full orchestra.
Therefore, he had considerable license to make the
orchestration really telling. As always he accomplished this
perfectly with a mixture of light and heavy scoring, humor and
gravity, and an uncanny knack for making the vocal line float
effortlessly over the instruments. The first of these, the
familiar I bought me a cat is a children's
nonsense song learned from playwright Lynn Riggs who learned
it as a boy in Oklahoma. Simple
Gifts
is based on the much-loved Shaker melody "The Gift to be
Simple" from the period 1837-1847, which he had earlier used
with great sensitivity in Appalachian Spring. The Little Horses
is a
children's lullaby of the southern states from a collection
"Folk Song USA" by J & A Lomax. Zion's
Walls
is a revivalist song with words and melody by John McCurry,
the compiler of The Social
Harp.
Copland used this melody again a year or two later, with
breathtaking effect in "The Promise of Living" from his lovely
opera about ordinary people in the mid-west: The Tender
Land.
The next, At the River, is based on a hymn
tune by Rev. Robert Lowry (1865). Finally, we hear
Ching-a-Ring Chaw, a minstrel song from
the Harris collection of U.S. Poetry and Plays.
Francis Poulenc
(1899-1963) Histoire de Babar, le petit
éléphant (1945) (Orchestrated by Jean
Francaix, 1962)
Poulenc was born to a
well-to-do family January 7th, 1899. He had a prodigious
talent for piano but was largely self-taught in composition,
although he did spend one year in performance studies at the
Paris Conservatoire. Nevertheless, his piano composition
"Mouvements perpétuels" at age 19 made himself a very
favorable reputation. In his twenties, he was considered one
of Les
six,
a somewhat loose group of young French (or almost French)
composers, of which Poulenc, Milhaud and the Swiss Honegger
are the only ones regularly performed today. Their aims were
to develop music away not only from the German style and but
also from the French impressionist style of the times. As a
member of that group he was much influenced by Igor Stravinsky
(1882-1971) and Erik Satie (1866-1925) who in turn was
something of a disciple and friend of Debussy. However, it was
Satie who was to play a major role in leading Poulenc towards
a clearer and more classical style. Poulenc was always a
great innovator and excelled at songs, piano solos and chamber
ensembles, especially some excellent wind chamber music. His
music nearly always shows a great sense of fun and joie de
vivre. Yet, perhaps his greatest single work is the very
serious opera Dialogues of the Carmelites which was composed
after the reawakening of his Catholic faith.
The Story of Babar the
Little Elephant really begins in 1931,
when Cecile de Brunhoff told her children how a little,
orphaned elephant became king of the forest. The children in
turn related the story to their father, the painter Jean de
Brunhoff (1899-1937), who made a picture book of the tale.
Thus was born Babar, one of the best-loved children's book
characters of the twentieth century. Jean de Brunhoff wrote
five more Babar stories before his death from tuberculosis.
His son, Laurent de Brunhoff continued the series. The
next event in our story occurs fourteen years later. Poulenc
was sitting at the piano one day, idly improvising, when the
young daughter of his cousin thrust her copy of
The
Story of Babar on to the music desk,
saying "play this instead!" With great equanimity it would
appear, he began to improvise some music to the text, and that
became the basis of the piano score as we know it today.
Writing in 1945 to his friend Henri Sauguet, Poulenc notes
that he has devised a subtitle: Dix-huit coups d'oeil
sur la queue d'un jeune éléphant (eighteen glances at
the tail of a young elephant). Given his sense of humor, it is
tempting to conjecture that this may not have been unconnected
with the publication the previous year of Messiaen's
Vingt
Regards sur l'Enfant Jésus.
Next we jump to 1959 when the composer Jean Francaix
(b. 1932) undertook to orchestrate Babar for Poulenc, who was
too busy. The charming result, published in 1962, is as much
due to Francaix' skill in orchestration as it is to Poulenc's
playful composition. Francaix chose muted strings to play the
opening lullaby that Babar's mother sings to him in the
forest. The "ride on his mother's back" begins with a
ponderous march followed by rich string harmonies that capture
the wonder of the baby elephant's view so high above the
ground. The music for Babar's escape from the hunters is
somewhat reminiscent of Prokofiev's Peter and the
Wolf.
Likewise, the use of car horns to invoke the hustle and bustle
of urban life may remind some listeners of Gershwin's
An
American in Paris. Throughout the work,
birds are represented by flutes, but Francaix uses various
other instruments to portray the main character, Babar. The
tuba is, of course, the obvious choice and can be heard as
Babar on his best behavior, thanking the elegant old lady for
buying him clothes, and somewhat more boisterously, dancing a
Viennese waltz with Arthur and Celeste at a tea-shop. One can
imagine the other patrons grabbing to save the china as the
elephants bump into tables.
However, Babar is also
portrayed by the contrabassoon (when doing exercises with the
old lady each morning), the trombone (the long slide a
nostalgic "sigh" for his mother) and clarinet (singing the
blues). The trumpeting of the elephants who welcome Babar's
return to the forest is of course played by trumpets, who
provide the party music after Babar's wedding and coronation.
The epilogue, like the beginning, uses muted strings to play a
type of "night music". A twinkling harp sets the concluding
mood for the bride and groom, who are gazing at the stars,
contemplating their future together.
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