To These Shores Program Notes

Introduction, Andante, and Allegro (2018)
by Chen Yi (b. Guangzhou, China, 1953)

When Chen Yi immigrated from China to the United States in the early 1980s, she was already an accomplished musician in both the Chinese and the Western traditions. A violinist by training, she is also profoundly versed in the musical culture of her homeland, which makes her the perfect ambassador between these two worlds. A longtime professor at the University of Missouri, Kansas City, Chen is a prolific composer of works in all genres, writing for both Western and Chinese instruments.

Introduction, Andante and Allegro is one of Chen’s major bridge-building compositions from recent years. You don’t get much more Western than her title, which echoes many prominent European works from the past. Yet the music builds on Chinese traditional melodies. In her comments on the piece, Chen singled out a particular motif from a piece known as “Old Eight Beat” in the first movement and called attention to the influence of the style of Peking Opera in general. She described the Introduction as progressing “from tranquil to vivid and energetic,” the second movement as “dark” and “mysterious,” and the third as “dramatic” and “powerful, with a developing ostinato that keeps growing towards a brilliant finale.”

Commissioned by the Seattle Symphony and the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Introduction, Andante and Allegro premiered in Seattle, under Ludovic Morlot’s direction, on February 6, 2019.

Adagio from Symphony No. 10 (1910)
by Gustav Mahler (Kalischt, Bohemia, Habsburg Monarchy [now Kaliště, Czech Republic], 1860 – Vienna, 1911)

Gustav Mahler ended his Ninth Symphony with a heart-rending Adagio, in whose slow concluding section (marked “Adagissimo”) the instructions morendo or ersterbend (both meaning “dying”) are repeated several times. Ever since its posthumous premiere in 1912, the symphony has been widely viewed as a farewell to life. What could possibly be said after such a final word?

As far as we know, Mahler did not discuss his projected Tenth Symphony with anyone. He did not even share his thoughts with his wife Alma, and that fact itself is revealing. The Mahlers’ marriage was in serious crisis in the summer of 1910, when Mahler found out about his wife’s affair with the architect Walter Gropius. Some intense soul-searching ensued; Mahler even had a consultation with Sigmund Freud. The visit led to reconciliation between husband and wife, and to a renewed commitment. Yet Mahler–who had already been diagnosed with the serious heart condition that would soon claim his life–must still have been under the influence of that shock, for among the sketches for the Tenth Symphony, we find verbal notations such as “O God! Why hast thou forsaken me?” “To live for you! To die for you!” and “Almschi!” (his pet name for his wife). It seems that in his Tenth, Mahler wanted to project his personal trauma on the cosmic scale of his earlier symphonies. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the work raised problems of a totally unprecedented kind for Mahler.

Add to that his superstitious belief that no composer could finish more than nine symphonies (the number that neither Beethoven, nor Bruckner or Dvořák had been able to exceed). Mahler had tried to “fool” Fate by writing Das Lied von der Erde (“The Song of the Earth”) as an unnumbered symphony between his Eighth and his Ninth. Yet Fate could not be fooled and Mahler died before he could complete his Tenth Symphony. He only managed to finish the gigantic first-movement Adagio. Four more movements were left in various degrees of incompletion, with enough material surviving on paper to make a performing version a realistic goal. In fact, the idea of completing the symphony was raised not long after Mahler’s death. Yet the challenge was enormous, and it wasn’t until 1964 that British musicologist and composer Deryck Cooke accomplished the task. Alma Mahler gave Cooke’s work the seal of approval shortly before her death. Since then, there have been other attempts to complete Mahler’s Tenth, but so far, only Cooke’s version has managed to establish itself in the repertoire. As far as one can see from the sketches, the ethereal ending of the last movement would have signalled some kind of “return to life” after the morendo of the Ninth. We can interpret this as a declaration of love for Alma, and, in the words of British musicologist Michael Kennedy, “the most fervently intense ending to any Mahler symphony and a triumphant vindication of his spiritual courage.”

All this, however, remains somewhat conjectural as we will never know how Mahler would have ended the symphony. The only movement he fully notated is the opening Adagio, which continues in the “farewell-to-life” mood of the Ninth. It is based on two principal themes: the first is the unaccompanied viola melody in Andante tempo with which the movement begins, hovering mysteriously between tonalities without quite settling on any particular key. This is followed by the real Adagio, whose warm violin melody begins in a clearly defined F-sharp major, though it soon branches out in distant chromatic modulations. The emotional power of this melody, which projects deep sadness, is enhanced by many wide leaps of an octave and more.

Both themes are subsequently developed in alternation and in conjunction. Although the tempo remains slow throughout, the music brightens up somewhat in the course of the development, especially in the passages where the texture is enlivened by woodwind trills and string pizzicatos (plucked notes). The two themes eventually return in their original forms, bringing back the tragic mood of the beginning. An unexpected tutti attack leads to the movement’s climax, a horrifyingly dissonant nine-note chord that speaks of almost unbearable pain. In the ensuing coda, the themes gradually disintegrate into isolated fragments, as the first violins climb to their highest register at the end of the fingerboard.

She Will Transform You (2019)
by Reena Esmail (b. Chicago, 1983)

The traditions of Indian and Western classical music—two equally rich and sophisticated traditions—are so different from each other that there have been few attempts over the years to bridge the gap that separates them. But that is exactly the goal that Reena Esmail, an American composer born to Indian parents, has been pursuing with outstanding success. Esmail’s music is nourished by her double identity: she has a doctorate in (Western) composition from Yale and studied Hindustani singing in India. Yet she aims for more than a synthesis of musical elements. As she has stated in an interview:

I use my music as a platform to bring people together…who are very unlikely to interact with one another outside of a piece of music that I would create, but that music allows them to really form a bond with each other where then deeper conversations can be had and relationships can be built.

About her composition heard at tonight’s concert, the composer has written:

She Will Transform You is centered around a beautiful poem of Indian American author Neelanjana Banerjee. She speaks about the beautiful relationship of an immigrant and her child to their country of origin, and the significant role a child from both cultures has in bridging the divide between them. As a child of immigrants, I have felt both that distance–of being the ‘other’ in both America and India–and also the resonance of being at home wherever I am.

The piece moves in and out of a Hindustani raga called Rageshree, which has such a lush resonance about it, and is also harmonically grounded in an unusual way (with the 4th instead of the more common 5th, which makes our ear feel like it’s never quite ‘home’)–so it has both a sense of belonging and distance. It’s those two feelings–of belonging and distance–and the journey between them, that I wanted to explore in this work.

America, To US
DANIEL BERNARD ROUMAIN (DBR)
World Premiere – Oakland Symphony Commission

This work was co-commissioned by the American Composers Orchestra, Oakland Symphony, Wheeling Symphony, with a generous grant from the New York State Council on the Arts, and written for Tracy Silverman, violinist.

The preferred violin for this concerto is a six-string, electro-acoustic instrument that can be
amplified locally using a pick-up on the instrument or a microphone and small guitar or electric bass amplifier. Alternative versions for 4- or 5-string instruments are available up- on request. Working with the soloist, an array of effects can be used within the soloist’s part — and always in balance with the ensemble.

There are four ‘Town Hall Cadenzas’ involving Speakers 1-8 (members of the audience) speaking, singing, using sign-language, and/or expressing themselves for fifteen seconds or less as indicated in the score (bars 271-335). Ideally, two microphones on mic stands will be placed in an area that will allow the Speakers to move to them, guided by ushers or members of the orchestral staff. These cadenzas can and should be explained to the audience before the performance, and a small ‘rehearsal’ is encouraged to allow a smooth and engaging execution during the performance. The tempos during the cadenzas are flexible and can respond to and be in collaboration with the Speakers and soloist. The cadenzas allow the host orchestra to invite into and create space for their audience. While the Speakers might be vetted and prepared by the host orchestra as a part of the rehearsal process, it is the design and intention of the composer that the cadenzas don’t include pre-selected Speakers, but rather allow for trust, risk, and full expression between the performers and the audience — all towards an urgent, vibrant, collective expression of our keenly American trials, tribulations, hopes, and dreams, which aren’t always self-evident
and remain enduring, but ever elusive.

A post-performance discussion with the audience is encouraged, if time allows. This can be moderated by the conductor, the composer (if present), the soloist, members of the orchestra, participating local officials, and/or other collaborators.

Some questions that frame the discussion might be:

What does America look and sound like now, and can a violin concerto create a frame for
people to be seen?

Who are the voices of America, and can a concert hall locate and create space for them to
be heard?

What truths do we as a community and country hold, and why?

What are the responsibilities of the individual to our collective culture, and who should
shape and maintain the artistic works that define who we are as an artistic community?