CARNEGIE HALL PRESENTS
The Philadelphia Orchestra

Stern Auditorium / Perelman Stage
Tuesday, April 7th, 2009 at 8:00 PM

“[Previn has] an elegantly light touch.”—New York Times

As part of Carnegie Hall’s celebration of the 80th birthday of composer, conductor, and pianist André Previn, this concert features the maestro performing and conducting one of Mozart’s most dramatic and robustly orchestrated piano concertos. The Philadelphia Orchestra’s famously luxurious sound is on full display in Symphonia domestica, a mock-heroic musical depiction of family life, with themes representing Richard Strauss, his wife, and his child.

Pre-concert talk starts at 7:00 PM in Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage with Bryan Gilliam, Duke University.

The Philadelphia Orchestra
André Previn, Conductor and Pianist

MOZART Piano Concerto No. 24 in C Minor, K. 491

R. STRAUSS Symphonia domestica, Op. 53

Saluting André Previn at 80

Sponsored by Deloitte LLP

Program Notes:

WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART (1756–1791)
Piano Concerto No. 24 in C Minor, K. 491

It is not difficult to see why the 19th century favored “minor-key” Mozart. Works such as the G-Minor Symphony, K. 440; the Piano Concerto in D Minor, K. 466; or the Don Giovanni Overture possessed the drama and pathos that the Romantic period craved, and these compositions helped engender the view of Mozart as precursor to the histrionics of Beethoven, Schumann, and Wagner. Today we see Mozart from broader perspectives, not just as proto-Romantic but as Italianate melodist and as slightly out-of-step Classicist. Investigations into late-Baroque opera have uncovered sources for his incomparable bel canto; and studies of J. C. Bach have revealed the extent to which he drew upon the music of this youngest of Sebastian’s sons toward developing a mature concerto style. Still, even as these studies have increased our estimation of the major-key concertos, fascination with such works as the C-Minor Piano Concerto remains strong.

The C-Minor Concerto was one of the trio written in early 1786 for Lenten concerts presented at Vienna’s Burgtheater. Since Mozart dated the manuscript of K. 491 as having been completed on March 24, 1786, scholars have reasonably presumed that the work formed a part of the benefit concert Mozart gave there on April 7. But as no program for that concert survives, uncertainty remains; in any case, the concerto was not published until after Mozart’s death, in 1800.

The 12 concertos that Mozart completed from 1782 to 1786 constitute his most important instrumental music, “symphonic in the highest sense,” in the words of Alfred Einstein. No fewer than six of these were written in 1785 and 1786, and they are among Mozart’s best-known works: K. 466, 467, 482, 488, 491, and 503. Each of these is unique; each creates its own individual ethic. The C-Minor Concerto contains some of the composer’s darkest moments, and is filled with chilling intimations of the introverted fury of Mozart’s last music, such as that of The Magic Flute and the Requiem.

The C-Minor Concerto apparently caused Mozart some difficulty, as indicated by the alternative versions he provided in the third variation of the finale. Here the composer seems to have struggled—right in the pages of the autograph manuscript itself, atypically for him—to find a “right” solution. The soloist is left to make the choice for him- or herself, and is furthermore called upon to fill out some of the implied rapid passagework that Mozart has left in a sort of skeletal shorthand of widely separated long notes. And finally, Mozart has left no written-out cadenzas or Eingänge (cadence points) for the concerto.

The concerto’s first movement (Allegro) opens with a principal subject of marvelous interest and potential. The listener can hardly help thinking that Beethoven had this theme in his ear when he wrote his Concerto No. 3 in C Minor—a piece that bears more than passing resemblance, in fact, to Mozart’s Concerto. But Mozart’s first subject is more elusive and unpredictable than Beethoven’s, and it keeps us in suspense for a full 12 bars of motivic prolongation before arriving at a splashy tutti reiteration. The piano enters, typically, with a theme all its own, and quickly launches into one of the most turbulent, unsettled movements in Mozart’s śuvre.

Momentary and welcome respite is provided by the uncomplicated Larghetto (the tempo marking is not the composer’s), a free interplay of spontaneous pianism and sympathetic instrumental underpinning. The Allegretto brings us back to the restless world of C minor (again, the tempo indication has been added in a later hand)—a set of somber variations on a square and halting theme. There is no deus ex machina here, no felicitous final turn to the major mode, as in the finale of the D-Minor Concerto, K. 466. All is mood here, wonder and mystery. But if the storm clouds are never fully dispersed, the absolute consistency of affect remains perfect throughout—a virtue that provides its own gloomy sense of satisfaction.

—Paul J. Horsley


RICHARD STRAUSS (1864–1949)
Symphonia domestica

Strauss did not invent the tone poem—that distinction goes to Franz Liszt, who as early as the 1840s composed works he called “symphonic poems”—but he brought to this unusual genre such technical brilliance and philosophical aplomb that today he is often thought of as the founder of the genre. By the turn of the century, he was the most celebrated composer in all of Europe. His previous tone poems, such as Don Juan, Death and Transfiguration, and Also sprach Zarathustra—narrative orchestral works on literary or philosophical subjects—had scandalized reactionary critics and electrified the public. Although the Alpine Symphony remained to be written in 1915, the Symphonia domestica, premiered in 1904, in many ways marks the end of his concern with large orchestral works. Opera would dominate the remaining nearly half century of his life.

After his clearly autobiographical Ein Heldenleben (A Hero’s Life) of 1897–1898, Strauss told a reporter in London that his next big orchestral work would “illustrate ‘a day in my family life.’ It will be partly lyrical, partly humorous—a triple fugue, the three subjects representing Papa, Mama, and the baby.” Strauss indeed focused even more introspectively upon himself in this next symphonic poem, Symphonia domestica, which he completed on New Year’s Eve 1903 and dedicated “to my dear wife and our son.” He had met the soprano Pauline de Ahna in 1887, when she took private lessons with him, and they married seven years later. Their son, Franz, was born in 1897. While Heldenleben had depicted, in programmatic musical terms, the tribulations that Strauss the composer had encountered in an artistic climate that was often inimical to his musical innovations, the Domestic Symphony provided a more intimate glimpse of home life chez Strauss.

Although the Strausses were at pains to present their marriage as sustained domestic bliss, it was in fact on shaky ground during the nearly two years he worked on Domestica. Pauline, although herself a singer who often performed with her husband, did not much care for his profession, which she felt beneath her social status. She complained about his constant travel and long hours composing at home. As Bryan Gilliam shows in his excellent biography, the two were close to separating in late 1901 and went so far as drafting a letter to break the news to Pauline’s father. Moreover, as Strauss was sketching the cheerful Symphonia domestica, Pauline accused him of adultery and demanded a divorce. She had opened a letter from a woman that seemed to indicate an affair and she flew into a rage. In fact, the letter was misaddressed and Strauss was wholly guiltless. Two decades later he returned to this incident in another of his penetrating domestic examinations, the 1923 opera Intermezzo. The Strauss’s marriage ultimately survived more than 50 years, with Pauline dying within the year of her husband’s death.

“What can be more serious than married life? Marriage is the most serious event of a lifetime, and the sublime joy of such a union is increased by the arrival of the child. This life naturally has its humorous side, which I have intended to introduce into the work to brighten it, but I want the Symphony to be taken seriously, and it has been played in that spirit in Germany.”

At its world premiere performance in Carnegie Hall on March 21, 1904, under Strauss’s own baton, the work was a huge public success—though some critics balked. He gave two more performances the next month at Wanamaker’s department store, the main floor of which was cleared for the occasion. He was criticized in some quarters by those who found this marriage of art and commercialism unseemly; Strauss responded, “Earning money for his wife and child is no disgrace, even for an artist!” One New York newspaper ran the vaguely disapproving headline “Home Sweet Home as written by Strauss—Papa and Momma and Baby Celebrated in Huge Conglomeration of Orchestra Music.” Such literal-mindedness made the composer cringe, and from time to time he tried to suppress the “program” that he had initially put forth so vigorously. At first Strauss explicitly labeled the themes in the score—husband, wife, and child—but later changed the designation to the straight-forward “first,” “second,” and “third” theme. (One critic missed a fourth character—the landlord—whom he felt would surely evict tenants who made so much noise.) Perhaps as an oversight, a lone descriptive tag remained in the score: the aunts and uncles exclaiming that the child is “just like Papa” and “just like Mama.”

Like so many composers of program music, Strauss wanted to have it both ways: Though he had created a piece built from a programmatic structure, he also wanted the symphony to stand on its own as a well-crafted work of music. “There is nothing to see in the program but mediocre events,” he wrote later. “What is interesting in the work is not the recounting of these events, but the powerful interior forces that stirred them up. The program can only distract one’s attention and falsify the character of the work.” Many critics objected to the specific program of the Domestica, which they found embarrassingly intimate. The sublime composer of Zarathustra was here shown bathing the screaming kid and making love to his wife. Romain Rolland wrote to Strauss in 1905: “What’s the use of the program, which diminishes the work and makes it puerile? … It’s a regular symphony … Let music keep its mystery.” To which the composer responded, “Perhaps you are right so far as the program to the Domestica is concerned; you agree entirely with Mahler, who completely condemns the principle of program music.”

While the Domestica may provide an intimate portrait of family life, it does so by calling upon massive forces. The orchestra of some 100 musicians includes quadruple woodwinds, four saxophones, eight horns, extensive percussion, and wonderful use of the oboe d’amore to represent the child. (A Baroque instrument, listeners today may associate it most with Bach’s use in his passions.) One cannot help noticing that the symphony’s musical structure is derived from traditional procedures: Introduction and Scherzo, Adagio, and Finale with Double Fugue. “In One Movement and Three Subdivisions,” was Strauss’s description. In 1904 he elaborated on the thematic development for the Berliner Philharmoniker’s concert program book:

I. Introduction and development of the three chief groups of themes. / The husband’s themes: (a) Easygoing; (b) Dreamy; (c) Fiery. / The wife’s themes: (a) Lively and gay; (b) Grazioso. / The child’s theme: Tranquil.
II. Scherzo. Parent’s happiness. Childish play. Cradle song (the clock strikes 7 p.m.)
III. Adagio. Doing and thinking. Love scene. Dreams and cares (the clock strikes 7 a.m.)
IV. Finale. Awakening and merry dispute (double fugue). Joyous conclusion.

Irony was one of Strauss’s greatest strengths and is abundantly on display in Domestica. “No more heroisms,” Strauss said. “At this time what I need is to make sweet and happy music.” The symphony can be heard and enjoyed either with program or without; whether the monumental final fugue is perceived as a conclusive moment of domestic harmony or as a purely musical summation, its effect is the same. After Rolland heard Strauss conduct the work in Paris in 1906, he wrote that the “end burns with joy, one can’t resist it; I really think there has been nothing like it in symphonic music since Beethoven.”

—Paul J. Horsley / Christopher H. Gibbs

Paul J. Horsley is a freelance author and former classical music and dance critic for the Kansas City Star. From 1992 to 2000 he was program annotator and musicologist of The Philadelphia Orchestra. He has written for the New York Times, Symphony magazine, Chamber Music, and other publications.

Christopher H. Gibbs is James H. Ottaway Jr. Professor of Music at Bard College, Co-Artistic Director of the Bard Music Festival, and Associate Editor of the Musical Quarterly. He is the author of The Life of Schubert and editor of The Cambridge Companion to Schubert and Franz Liszt and his World.

Program notes © 2009. All rights reserved. Program notes may not be reprinted without written permission from The Philadelphia Orchestra Association.

The Philadelphia Orchestra
André Previn, Conductor and Pianist
Conductor, composer, and pianist André Previn is one of the most distinguished musicians of our time. He holds both the Austrian and German Cross of Merit, received the Kennedy Center’s Lifetime Achievement Award in 1998, was honored as Musical America’s Musician of the Year in 1999, and was knighted by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in 1996. He received the Glenn Gould Prize in Toronto in 2006. Mr. Previn has received several Grammy Awards, most recently in 2005 for recordings of his Violin Concerto (“Anne-Sophie”) and Bernstein’s Serenade featuring Anne-Sophie Mutter together with the Boston and London symphonies.

A frequent guest with the world’s major orchestras, Mr. Previn has held the chief artistic posts with orchestras such as the Houston Symphony, the London Symphony, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Pittsburgh Symphony, and the Royal Philharmonic. As a pianist, he enjoys recording and performing song recitals, chamber music and jazz. He also performs and teaches annually at the Tanglewood Music Center. Mr. Previn made his Philadelphia Orchestra debut in 1969.

Mr. Previn has enjoyed a number of successes as a composer. His first opera, A Streetcar Named Desire, was awarded the Grand Prix du Disque. His second opera, Brief Encounter, a commission from the Houston Grand Opera, will be premiered in May 2009. His double concerto for violin and viola, written for Anne-Sophie Mutter and Yuri Bashmet, will be premiered in New York in 2009. Mr. Previn led the premiere of his composition Owls with the Boston Symphony last October. The Pittsburgh Symphony recently commissioned and premiered his Harp Concerto. He has also composed works for the Vienna Philharmonic, Renée Fleming, Yo-Yo Ma, Vladimir Ashkenazy, Janet Baker, and Barbara Bonney.

Highlights of Mr. Previn’s current and upcoming season include celebrations of his 80th birthday at Carnegie Hall, and concerts with the Pittsburgh Symphony, the London Symphony, the Boston Symphony, the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, and the Accademia Nazionale de Santa Cecilia. In May 2008 he was presented with the Lifetime Achievement Award of the London Symphony.

Mr. Previn records for Deutsche Grammophon. His concert music is published by G. Schirmer, Inc. and Chester Music Ltd.