SAN DIEGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA A JACOBS MASTERWORKS CONCERT James Gaffigan, conductor January 27 and 29, 2017

HENRY COWELL

“Hymn” from Hymn and Fuguing Tune No. 2, for String Orchestra

STEVEN STUCKY

Rhapsodies

SAMUEL BARBER

Symphony No. 1, Op. 9 Allegro ma non troppo Allegro molto Andante tranquillo Con moto (Passacaille)

INTERMISSION

LEONARD BERNSTEIN Prelude, Fugue and Riffs, for Solo Clarinet & Jazz Ensemble Prelude for the Brass Fugue for the Saxes Riffs for Everyone

MORTON GOULD

Tap Dance Concerto Toccata Pantomime Minuet Rondo Cartier Williams, tap dancer

DUKE ELLINGTON/ Arr. Luther Henderson, Ed. John Mauceri

Harlem

EIGHTY YEARS OF AMERICAN MUSIC This concert brings a generous selection of American music, composed over the span of 80 years. It also reminds us how rich our musical traditions are – we’ll feel the heritage of church hymns, folk music, jazz and dance, as well as the classical tradition. The earliest piece is Barber’s First Symphony, written in the 1930s; it is one of the first of that magnificent sequence of symphonies American composers wrote in the Thirties and Forties. From the difficult World War II years come two quite different kinds of music: Cowell’s beautiful look back to the church and folk traditions of early American music and Ellington’s celebration of life in Harlem. Like Ellington, Bernstein found jazz the right idiom for his Prelude, Fugue and Riffs, written shortly after the war. Gould’s Tap Dance Concerto, from the early Fifties, fuses a “serious” form (the classical concerto) with a popular dance form. And from there we jump ahead over half a century to the Rhapsodies of Steven Stucky, a sparkling piece by a composer quite familiar to Southern California audiences.

“Hymn” from Hymn and Fuguing Tune No. 2, for String Orchestra HENRY COWELL Born March 11, 1897, Menlo Park, CA Died December 10, 1965, Shady, NY Henry Cowell was one of those West Coast visionaries who seem to see the world differently right from the start. Cowell began composing as a boy, but he never felt bound by the “rules” of Western art music, and from an early age he was interested in the music of all cultures (particularly Asia) and in new sounds. Cowell experimented with polytonality and polyrhythms, he invented what we now call “tone clusters,” and he placed objects within the strings of a piano to create new sonorities. At age 22, Cowell published a treatise titled New Musical Resources outlining an entirely new theory of music; he became a vigorous champion of new music. He toured Europe and the United States, giving performances and lectures and appearing at Schoenberg’s request before the latter’s composition class in Berlin; Webern conducted his music in Vienna. Furthermore, Cowell founded the journal New Music, which championed Ives, Ruggles, Varèse and other composers. Cowell was also an influential teacher; among those who studied with him were George Gershwin, John Cage, Lou Harrison and even Burt Bacharach. Yet for all his visionary and experimental ideas, Cowell was very interested in American folk music. As a young man he had studied at Berkeley with Charles Seeger (father of Pete Seeger), and Cowell’s wife Sidney Robertson – a specialist in folk music – shared with him the

vast collection of folk songs and hymns she had gathered. Between 1944 and 1964, Cowell composed a series of 18 Hymn and Fuguing Tunes. These were usually scored for string orchestra, though Cowell sometimes wrote them for other ensembles as well. Cowell made clear that in these pieces he was not quoting American folk music – all the themes were his own – but that he was evoking the old traditions of the church hymn and the fuguing tune. The fuguing tune, which had been popular with American colonial composers like William Billings, would develop a tune contrapuntally: the entry of the voices would overlap, though the music never took the form of a strict fugue. For his part, Cowell described this music simply as “something slow followed by something fast.” The Hymn and Fuguing Tune No. 2 has always been one of the most popular of the series, and this program begins with the Hymn by itself. First performed as part of a radio broadcast by station WEAF in New York City on March 23, 1944, the Hymn opens with a heartfelt and reverent melody marked Larghetto sostenuto. Gradually, Cowell expands this simple beginning, adding voices and increasing the dynamic until the music drives to a firm close. The Hymn makes a poised – and very beautiful – beginning to an all-American program that will overflow with energy.

Rhapsodies STEVEN STUCKY Born November 6, 1949, Hutchinson Kansas Died February 14, 2016, Ithaca, New York The death last year of Steven Stucky robbed American music of one of its brightest stars. Trained at Baylor and Cornell, Stucky taught composition for many years at Cornell and Juilliard. He was a prolific composer, and his works include compositions for orchestra, chorus, chamber ensembles, keyboard and solo voice; his one opera, The Classical Style, was premiered at the 2014 Ojai Festival. Stucky served as composer-in-residence with the Los Angeles Philharmonic from 1988 until 2009, the longest tenure of any composer with an American orchestra, and his Concerto for Orchestra No. 2, premiered by that orchestra under Esa-Pekka Salonen, won the Pulitzer Prize for music in 2005. The composer wrote a note for Rhapsodies, and it is reprinted by permission of the

Theodore Presser Company: When the New York Philharmonic invited me to compose a short work for its European tour of August-September 2008, the invitation came with a suggestion from Music Director Lorin Maazel: would I consider writing “something rhapsodic?” I ran to the dictionary for help. The more I thought about those words rhapsody and rhapsodic – words I would never have chosen to describe my music – the more I realized that boundaries are meant to be pushed, and that an external, even foreign stimulus like “rhapsodic” could be just the ticket to push mine. The resulting work is rhapsodic in two senses. It has a freely developing form, as if improvised, and it trades in ecstatic, fervent forms of expression. Although it is in one continuous movement, Rhapsodies is titled in the plural because it unrolls as a series of rhapsodic episodes, usually triggered by a single player whose ardent phrases gradually “infect” his neighbors until soon a whole section of the orchestra is sounding ecstatic. A solo flute (appassionato) draws other high woodwind voices in one by one, until they create a riotous mass of sound. A solo English horn (cantando, fervente) recruits clarinet, bass clarinet, bassoon and more, until its whole neighborhood has broken into song, too. Solo horn and trumpet (nobile) launch still another outbreak, now among the brasses. Meanwhile, behind each of these episodes of rhapsodizing flows calmer, supporting music elsewhere in the orchestra, serving as a backdrop. Unrelenting fervor can only be borne for so long. Eventually, the orchestra lapses, spent, into a quiet coda, where the intense experiences that have come before can be recollected in tranquility. Rhapsodies was jointly commissioned by the New York Philharmonic and the BBC, with generous support from the Francis Goelet Fund. The world premiere was given by the New York Philharmonic under Lorin Maazel on 28 August 2008 at the BBC Proms, Royal Albert Hall, London, with the U.S. premiere by the same forces falling on 18 September 2008 at Avery Fisher Hall in New York. -Steven Stucky

Symphony No. 1, Op. 9 SAMUEL BARBER March 9, 1910, West Chester, PA Died January 23, 1981, New York City Can this wonderful symphony – still so fresh and youthful – really be 81 years old? Barber completed it in February 1936, a few days before his 26th birthday, while spending a year in Europe on a Pulitzer Traveling Scholarship and as a Prix de Rome winner. The symphony was premiered in December of that year in Rome by the Augusteo Orchestra; it was quickly repeated by the Cleveland and Philadelphia Orchestras, the New York Philharmonic and other orchestras in this country. When Artur Rodzinski led this music with the Vienna Philharmonic at the Salzburg Festival in July 1937, it was the first work by an American ever performed at that festival. Bruno Walter recorded the First Symphony in 1945, and it remains one of the best-known symphonies ever composed by an American; among its numerous recordings are several by European orchestras. This popularity is easy to understand. Throughout, the symphony’s long, singing lines and memorable themes show Barber’s considerable melodic gift. This is also one of those pieces that just sound good. Barber had a terrific ear for instrumental color, and this music rings through a concert hall, its sonority dominated by the sound of soaring violins, piercing trumpets and thunderous timpani. And finally, the symphony is effective formally: only 20 minutes long, it is in one movement made up of four sections that conform to the movements of the traditional symphony. As many have noted, Barber’s model for such a form was Sibelius’ Seventh Symphony (and some may hear a touch of Sibelius in his orchestral sound), but the youthful energy and imaginative evolution of themes are entirely his own. The symphony gets off to a terrific start on a series of terraced brass attacks – a rippling wash of bright sound – and immediately Barber introduces his first subject in the strings; this jagged shape will reappear in a variety of forms. Other themes follow quickly – a long-lined melody for English horn and violas and a soaring, intense closing subject – and these three ideas contain all the material Barber will use across the span of his symphony. Now he plays them up to a tremendous climax, but does not recapitulate them, and this opening section collapses on fragments of its first theme.

Out of the silence, the Allegro molto leaps to life on the strings’ dancing 6/8 meter, a pulse felt in virtually every measure of this energetic section. Based on a variation of the symphony’s opening string theme, this section conforms to the scherzo of the traditional symphony. It too rises to a spiky, sonorous climax, then falls away on the sound of muttering bassoons and clarinets and – over quiet timpani strokes – flows directly into the Andante tranquillo. This section is derived primarily from the long melody originally introduced by English horn and violas. Over murmuring strings, solo oboe transforms that melody into an expressive cantilena, and this too builds up to a climax of considerable power. The concluding section, marked Con moto, begins very quietly in the cellos and basses. Their simple tune is yet a further derivation of the symphony’s opening theme, and now Barber employs it as the ground bass for a passacaglia. As it repeats, he weaves variants of the symphony’s themes above its quiet progression, slowly at first, then gathering intensity as the symphony drives to its powerful close. Barber was not by nature a symphonist, and he knew it. He wrote a Second Symphony during World War II, but was dissatisfied and later withdrew it and destroyed the orchestral parts – the First is his only authorized symphony. But it remains an exciting and impressive work, not just for its international success but for its historical significance: it was one of the earliest of the magnificent sequence of symphonies by young Americans (Harris, Schuman, Piston, Diamond, Copland and others) composed during the years of the Depression and World War II.

Prelude, Fugue and Riffs, for Solo Clarinet & Jazz Ensemble LEONARD BERNSTEIN Born August 25, 1918, Lawrence, MA Died October 14, 1990, New York City In 1949 jazz band leader Woody Herman, who had already commissioned Stravinsky’s Ebony Concerto, asked Leonard Bernstein to write a piece for his band. At that point Bernstein was a 31-year-old wunderkind who had substituted at the last minute for Bruno Walter with the New York Philharmonic and had made a name for himself as the composer of the ballet Fancy Free and the musical On the Town. Bernstein completed the piece for Herman – which he called Prelude, Fugue and Riffs – on November 4, 1949, but by that time Herman’s Herd had disbanded, and so Bernstein’s piece went on the shelf. Its premiere finally took place on October

16, 1955, as part of the Omnibus telecast of Bernstein’s program, “What Is Jazz?” Benny Goodman was clarinet soloist on that occasion, and Bernstein dedicated Prelude, Fugue and Riffs to him. This music requires large forces: five saxophones, five trumpets, four trombones, plus piano, percussion and string bass, as well as a solo clarinet in the final section. Bernstein scores the opening Prelude, which he specifies should be “Fast and exact,” for brass and percussion only. Tempos are fluid here, and the music dances along constantly-shifting meters. The sound changes completely at the Fugue, scored only for the saxes: two altos, two tenors, and baritone. Again, the keynote is perky rhythmic vitality, though a nice counter-theme (marked dolce) sings through the busy texture of the fugue. Piano alone leads the way into the final section, Riffs, which Bernstein notes is “for Everyone.” A riff if a brief repetitive phrase, and the solo B-flat clarinet – accompanied only by piano – lays out the basic riff, a climbing two-measure figure. Gradually the other instruments enter, and along the way there are solos for trombone and trumpet. But the principal effect of this final section is of a really big-band sound, with the solo clarinet sailing high above all the energy, and then finally Prelude, Fugue, and Riffs makes its way to an ebullient – and full-throated – close.

Tap Dance Concerto MORTON GOULD Born December 10, 1913, New York Died February 21, 1996, Orlando Works for solo dancer and orchestra are rare, but they do exist. William Schuman wrote Judith specifically for Martha Graham, who turned that music into a dramatic re-telling of Judith’s beheading of Holofernes. Morton Gould’s Tap Dance Concerto offers a much more light-hearted, though equally exciting, experience. As a composer, Gould was always willing to experiment: he wrote a piece for rapper and orchestra and another work – titled Hosedown – for a group of singing firemen and orchestra. Gould had been impressed by the filmed musicals and shows of the 1930s that always included a tap dance number, and he had been thinking for years about composing a concert piece for tap dancer and orchestra. Then, in the early 1950s, he ran into an old associate, tap dancer Danny Daniels. Born in 1924, Daniels had danced in such Broadway shows as Billion Dollar Baby (for which Gould had written the music) and Street

Scene. (Daniels would later appear in such films as Pennies from Heaven, The Night They Raided Minsky’s and Zelig.) Gould suggested the idea of a tap dance concerto to Daniels, who readily agreed. Daniels danced and Gould conducted the premiere of the Tap Dance Concerto, which took place in Rochester in November 1952. This is a charming piece, but it is also very difficult for the dancer, who must dance non-stop for 20 minutes. It is a concerto in the sense that it offers a solo part for a single performer accompanied by an orchestra, but in this case the soloist does not have a melodic or thematic part – the entire solo line is rhythmic, consisting only of quick taps of the dancer’s shoes, which Gould scrupulously notates in the score. Of course, some of the effect of this piece is visual, as an audience watches the movement of the dancer’s body while hearing the tap of his shoes, but the solo part must be danced very cleanly and accurately. The concerto is in four brief movements. The opening Toccata is full of energy (Gould’s marking is “Bright and Vigorous”), and – as in a classical concerto – the composer offers his soloist a cadenza before rounding the movement off briskly. The second movement is titled Pantomime, and Gould marks it “Very Slow and Held Back.” Everyone who dances this concerto makes clear that this movement, the slowest of the four, is also the most difficult: the dancer must tap very precisely at a very slow tempo. The Minuet is marked “Lyrically Moving in a brisk three,” and then Gould rounds off the concerto with a Rondo that he specifies must be “Very Fast and Driving.” This is a virtuoso movement, with rapid exchanges between dancer and orchestra as the rhythmic line jumps back and forth between them. Gould could not have foreseen, when he wrote this music in 1952, that it would go on to become one of his most frequently-performed pieces. Works for dancer and orchestra are rare, but tap dancers are grateful to have this charming little piece, which is still performed regularly around the world. The reasons for the success of the Tap Dance Concerto are not hard to find. It’s unusual. It’s a rare opportunity for a tap dancer to appear with an orchestra. It’s a real workout for that dancer. And it’s so much fun.

Harlem DUKE ELLINGTON Born April 29, 1899, Washington, DC Died May 24, 1974, New York City Duke Ellington and his various bands are remembered primarily for their short pieces, often about three minutes in length, a duration that was dictated by the need to keep such pieces on one side of a 78-rpm record. But Ellington was attracted to the idea of writing music of greater length and more significant content, and when he was invited to give concerts in Carnegie Hall during World War II he composed Black, Beige, and Brown (January 1943) and New World a-Comin’ (December 1943); both works were much longer than his previously released “hits,” and both were concerned with the condition of African Americans in the United States. Ellington originally wrote these pieces for his own orchestra of about 14 players (six brass, four reed, four rhythm), but he remained interested in symphonic music, believing that the symphony orchestra would bring his music to a larger audience. In the years after World War II, while his orchestra was engaged in a series of highly successful European tours, Ellington began to plan a new work, one that combined his jazz orchestra and a symphony orchestra. Ellington called the piece Harlem, and he completed it during the summer of 1950, shortly after returning from Europe on the Ile de France. His initial idea was to write a piece in the style of a baroque concerto grosso: Ellington’s jazz orchestra would make up the small band of soloists, and they would be set in contrast to the full symphony orchestra. There appears to be no truth to the often-repeated story that Harlem had been commissioned by Toscanini for his NBC Symphony, but the real story is complicated. Ellington led the premiere of Harlem on June 20, 1951, at Lewisohn Stadium, and there is evidence that some players from the NBC Symphony were part of the orchestra on that occasion. In 1955, after Toscanini had retired, the famous conductor’s longtime radio producer, Don Gillis, led the Symphony of the Air (the new name adapted by Toscanini’s orchestra as it struggled to survive without NBC) in a performance of a symphonic version of Harlem, arranged by Ellington’s longtime collaborator Luther Henderson. That version heard will be heard on these concerts, in an edition created by Hollywood Bowl Orchestra Founding Director, John Mauceri. Ellington referred to this piece as “a tone parallel” to Harlem, and listeners might think of

it in much the same way they think of Gershwin’s An American in Paris: each is a musical portrait of a city its composer loved. In his autobiography, Ellington left a brief description of Harlem: “We would like to take you on a tour of this place called Harlem…It is Sunday morning. We are strolling from 110th Street up Seventh Avenue, heading north through the Spanish and West Indian neighborhood toward the 125th Street business area…You may hear a parade go by, or a funeral, or you may recognize the passage of those who are making Civil Rights demands.” Ellington begins by having a trumpet say the word “Harlem” – that two-note motif will return throughout the piece – and Harlem, only about 14 minutes long, is structured around a series of brief, almost kaleidoscopic scenes. Ellington left a list of those 20 scenes: The piece of music goes like this: (1) Pronouncing the word “Harlem,” itemizing its many facets – from downtown to uptown, true and false; (2) 110th Street, heading north through the Spanish neighborhood; (3) Intersection further uptown – cats shucking and stiffing; 4) Upbeat parade; (5) Jazz spoken in a thousand languages; (6) Floor show; (7) Girls out of step, but kicking like crazy; (8) Fanfare for Sunday; (9) On the way to church; (10) Church – we’re even represented in Congress by our man of the church; (11) The sermon; (12) Funeral; (13) Counterpoint of tears; (14) Chic chick; Stopping traffic; (16) After church promenade; (17) Agreement a capella; (18) Civil Rights demandments; (19) March onward and upward; (20) Summary – contributions coda. -Program notes by Eric Bromberger

PERFORMANCE HISTORY – by Dr. Melvin G. Goldzband, Symphony Archivist With the exception of the Barber Symphony No. 1, all the pieces presented at these concerts are premieres to San Diego's orchestra and audiences. That symphony by Samuel Barber had been played by the orchestra under Jahja Ling's direction during the 2010-11 season. The remainder of the selections to be played at this concert, by Henry Cowell, Steven Stucky, Leonard Bernstein, Morton Gould and Duke Ellington, are being given their first San Diego hearings.