THE COMPOSER — Antonín Dvořák’s artistic life in the middle years of the 1860s provided inspiration both personal and professional. His post as a violist with the Provisional Theater was a wellspring. It offered exposure to important operas from around Europe and encouraged experimentation with his own growing catalogue of works. He also fell in love with an actor from the Theater called Josefina Čermák. Dvořák did his best to woo Josefina and even wrote the song cycle Cypresses in her honor. Sadly, it was not meant to be. Josefina married a count instead, but Dvořák remained close to the family ever after. Close enough, in fact, that he married Josefina’s younger sister Anna in 1873. That was the same year as his first big Czech success as a composer, Hymn “The Heirs of the White Mountain.”

THE HISTORY — The gorgeously lyrical Romance for Violin and Orchestra was based on music Dvořák rescued from an 1873 string quartet he had chosen to disown. It was certainly not the only time this composer would re-purpose worthy moments from abandoned projects. In this case, it was the slow movement he selected for new life as a concert work. It seems the process took a few years to complete and, in the end, the resurrection included much more original music than not. It is lucky that the poor history surrounding the quartet—its single, unsuccessful performance and its universally agreed-upon status as a disappointing misfire—did not bury forever the uniquely personal charms of its Andante. Dvořák’s publisher had no argument with the fate of the quartet, it simply didn’t work, but agreed with Dvořák that there was something special in the main theme of the second movement. The publisher’s ability to convince his composer to use the nearly orphaned music in this new way continues to be a benefit to violinists everywhere. But it also served as early proof that Dvořák had matured beyond his “Wagnerian” phase and was perhaps already looking towards the fully Czech sound that would define his career. Dvořák made two versions of the Romance, one for orchestra and one for piano. Other piano reductions were published in the years following the premiere, but Dvořák’s own was not made available until 2015. We aren’t exactly sure when Dvořák composed (re-composed) the Romance in either form, but the orchestral iteration was premiered by the Provisional Theater Orchestra in 1877 on a program in Prague. He was a professional string player himself, we must not forget, so the solo part effortlessly soared that night and has ever since.

THE WORLD — Elsewhere in 1877, Oglala Lakota leader Crazy Horse was killed by a soldier while in confinement in Nebraska, the first Championships at Wimbledon were held, and the Martian moons Phobos and Deimos were discovered.

THE CONNECTION — Dvořák’s Romance was most recently performed by Sarasota Orchestra in 2019 by Concertmaster Daniel Jordan, with Music Director Anu Tali conducting.

THE COMPOSER — For composer Maurice Ravel, the Roaring Twenties did not really roar. He had returned from the Great War (and the loss of his mother in 1917) much diminished mentally and physically, and though he was in many ways at the height of his living renown, his output was diminished as well. Past were the heady days of Les Apaches, the loose confederacy of artistic outcasts with whom Ravel found his voice and began to get noticed. In the interwar years, Ravel was sedate and retiring but, much to the chagrin of his rabble-rousing younger self, he was becoming more internationally popular by the minute. This was largely thanks to the fact the few works he did write in the 1920s were among his best. Even if, as in the case of Bolero, he did not agree.

THE HISTORY — Tzigane is the French word for a word nobody uses much anymore, for good reason. That word is “Gypsy,” and you won’t read it again in this note. For early 20th-century composers, the term most often referred to the Hungarian Roma and their artistic traditions. The Romani people originated in Northern India and settled in Hungary perhaps as far back as the 14th century. Their nomadic lifestyle was banned by the Hapsburgs in the 18th century, but their culture flourished despite that and other prejudicial interferences. Though Ravel did not quote any Roma folk melodies per se in his thrilling, ethnically curious concert work, he clearly set out to compose a rhapsodic solo journey “in the Hungarian style,” to use the popular parlance of publishers at the time. The specific inspiration for the piece came to Ravel after hearing the Hungarian violin virtuoso Jelly D’Arányi (great-niece of the legendary Joseph Joachim) in performance with Béla Bartók on the latter’s Violin Sonata No. 1. He was completely smitten with her playing and spent the rest of the evening asking her to play every Roma tune she could think of. Jelly’s technique and flair matched nicely with Ravel’s desire to create an incredibly demanding showstopper for her, and though some critics did not find much to praise at the 1924 premiere, the audience loved it from the start (as does every audience up to this day). Western European high society, Paris in particular, was in the midst of a rabid fascination with all things “other,” so the transliterated “exoticism” of Tzigane made for a highly effective musical treat. The piece was originally written with piano accompaniment but was shortly thereafter orchestrated by the composer. Interestingly, the piano version included an option for a luthéal—a mechanical attachment that gave the piano an added register of cimbalom-like sounds.

THE WORLD — Elsewhere in 1924, Vladimir Lenin died, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) was founded in the United States, George Mallory vanished on Mount Everest, E. M. Forster published A Passage to India, and Greece proclaimed the Second Hellenic Republic.

THE CONNECTION — Sarasota Orchestra most recently performed Tzigane in 2010 with Vadim Gluzman; Music Director Leif Bjaland was on the podium.

THE COMPOSER — In the years prior to the Great War, Gustav Holst was already settled into a comfortable academic life. His post at the St. Paul’s Girls’ School in Hammersmith was but one among the many he held, but it was there that he would stay until his death in 1934. It was a perfect atmosphere for a composer of Holst’s carefully measured ambition, and the seclusion it offered made room for much creativity. In fact, when a new music wing was opened at St. Paul’s in 1913, it included a soundproof studio for Holst. In that hushed, private space he would compose many works, from the humble St. Paul Suite to the grand galactic travel guide that made him famous.

THE HISTORY — Given its proximity to the start of WWI and the martial theme of the first movement, it is logical to assume The Planets was Holst’s “war piece.” That still seems a sensible assumption over 100 years later, but the truth is that he began work on the music before hostilities commenced, and it seems unlikely, then or later, that it was intended as a political statement. The Planets was unique among Holst’s compositions to that point, and it represented a synthesis of his interests in astrology and Theosophy. For those who might not know, Theosophy was a late-19th-century philosophy that drew from ancient religious and mythological traditions to teach access to the divine through mysticism. Astrology, well, everyone knows what that is, and Holst enjoyed casting horoscopes for his close friends. In addition to mixing celestial concepts high and low, The Planets also displayed Holst’s ability to personalize the prevailing musical trends of his day. Both Schoenberg and Stravinsky toured England prior the creation of The Planets, and their concerts clearly had a powerful effect on Holst. Each of the seven (excluding Earth and the then-undiscovered Pluto) tone portraits that make up the suite are brilliant, colorful portrayals of the Roman gods for whom each planet is named. It is fascinating to hear Holst’s typically economical voice “turned loose” on such a luxuriously large orchestral palette. Epic-scale composition was not something that came easily to him, according to his daughter Imogen. Perhaps that is why Holst never did anything quite like it again. Or maybe he never tried to repeat the feat, because the immediate popularity of The Planets after the 1920 “full” premiere (parts had been performed in 1919 after a private concert the year before) led to an annoying public expectation that he did everything after would be derivative of it. Composers often accept their legacies grudgingly and, for Holst, the notion that all his work would be judged against The Planets was a frustration that lasted the rest of his days.

THE WORLD — Elsewhere in 1920, the American Civil Liberties Union was created, explorer Robert Peary died, the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire began, the very first “Ponzi” scheme was launched, and Joan of Arc was canonized.

THE CONNECTION — The last time the Sarasota Orchestra performed The Planets on the Masterworks Series was in 2018. Music Director Anu Tali conducted.

THE COMPOSER — If he wanted to, American composer Billy Childs could rest solely on the laurels of his jazz career. But he was never meant to be just one thing. According to his biography, Childs grew up “immersed in jazz, classical and popular influences.” Perhaps that is why the biographer refers to him as “the most distinctly American composer since Aaron Copland.” Those are huge shoes to fill. But even while spending so much in the recording studio with the greatest jazz artists of the day, Childs has also been building an impressive portfolio of orchestral and chamber music commissions for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Kronos Quartet, the Detroit Symphony, and others. The GRAMMY® nominations are up to 13 at this point, but Childs is far from done.

THE HISTORY — Childs included the following description in the 2022 score: “Concerto for Saxophone and Orchestra is a symphonic poem which strives to chronicle the paradigm of the forced black American diaspora, as sifted through the prism of my own experience as a black man in America. When Steven Banks approached me about the piece, the first thing we discussed was the narrative: What particular story would the piece tell? How would it unfold? We decided that, much in the same way that Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit illustrates three poems by Aloysius Bertrand in three separate movements, so would this concerto do with poems by black poets. But then I started thinking of the elegantly succinct and fluent structure of Barber’s Symphony No. 1, where in one multi-sectioned suite, he brilliantly ties together a handful of thematic materials into a seamless and organic whole. So I started to compose from the vantage point that the poems Steven and I settled on (“Africa’s Lament” by Nayyirah Waheed, “If We Must Die” by Claude McKay, and “And Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou) would be guideposts which inspired the direction of a three-part storyline: Motherland, If We Must Die and And Still I Rise. Also, I wanted to tie the piece together thematically with various melodies and motifs treated in different ways (inverted, augmented, contrapuntally treated, reharmonized, etc.), like a loosely structured theme and variations—except there are several themes used.” The story in the music takes the listener on an enslaved person’s journey from Africa to America. We travel from the complex “purity” of life in the Motherland, through the abject hell of the Middle Passage, and finally to the sanctuary of church and community. Both harrowing and thrilling, the concerto is a technical tour de force and a potent musical commentary on the Black American experience.

THE WORLD — Elsewhere in 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine, Britain’s Queen Elizabeth died at the age of 96, civil rights protests erupted in Iran, and the World Cup took place in the unlikely country of Qatar (in the winter!).

THE CONNECTION — This concert marks the Sarasota Orchestra premiere of Billy Childs’ Concerto for Saxophone and Orchestra.