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A Devotional Chat

The Boston Musical Intelligencer published an interview/chat between Jason and Scott Metcalfe, director of Blue Heron, about Friday's concert. Feel free to read the original here or peruse the text below!

A Far Cry will be teaming up with Blue Heron for a performance of Faure’s Requiem this Friday. The first half of the program centers on the “Song of Songs,” and features a “conversation” between the two groups as they perform, separately but interspersed, a combination of Nicolas Gombert’s motets on the “Song of Songs,” Jean-Yves Daniel-Lesur’s Le Cantique des Cantiques and Jean Francaix’s Symphonie d’Archets. Jason Fisher, the Crier program curator, and Scott Metcalfe, Blue Heron’s director share their discussion to BMInt readers.

BMInt: How did this collaboration initially come about?

Jason: Well, the program and collaboration are really two different tracks that came together early on. The program began in the way that many A Far Cry programs do, with one person coming up with the initial conception. I came to the group wanting to do a Faure Requiem program, using the original 1893 version, and once that hit the ground with the group, it turned into an all-French program idea. Very early on, before the program was even approved, we brought up the question of who we wanted to do it with. Of course we would do it with Blue Heron if they said yes. But would they say yes? After all, they’re an early music group!

Scott: And we didn’t even consider saying no! Blue Heron is first and foremost a vocal ensemble. Sure, we’re a vocal ensemble that mostly does music written between 1400 and 1600, but all of us do music from way before and way after, and many of us specialize in new music as well. And a lot of the skills that we’ve acquired in this context apply to other music, exactly as they do for you.

What does that skill-transfer look like in the context of the Faure Requiem?

Scott: Everyone loves the Requiem, for good reason—it’s one of the greatest pieces ever – and it’s a great opportunity for us to bring the sort of “inquisitive” approach that we use for earlier music to Faure. (And Faure is early music, in a sense, right?) There’s a lot of information there about what we want to try. The French Latin is a great example. We’re not doing that because Faure did it – though we know he did, for sure. The pronunciation of French Latin as though it were more like French fits the melodic lines of the piece better than Italianate declamation, and so it’s clearly what he had in mind. This is usually what you’ll find when you start doing French pronunciation is that actually it shows you how to do melodies in French music. It’s very much the case in this piece, since Faure’s really a French Classicist. He’s a Romantic with a very, very, upright sense of a Classical background.

Jason: And I think one thing that drew us to Blue Heron in particular, amongst the things that you said, was that we knew you would have that curiosity, to want to do the exploration and really want to approach it in a very defined and thoughtful way And of course you are known in town for much the same reason that we are: for making music in a chamber music atmosphere. A lot of people come to hear A Far Cry not necessarily because of what we program but because of the way we perform, and I think a lot of people come to Blue Heron concerts for that reason too. And that’s an exciting thing about this collaboration – because our audiences are going to meet each other, and they’re both here for that similar kind of collaboration, rather than just hearing the Faure Requiem. And hopefully those who do come just to hear the Requiem will be delightfully surprised.

How do you imagine people will experience the “engineered” first half of the program that joins several works?

Scott: That was really Jason’s idea, to make this Francaix/Daniel-Lesur conversation, flirtation, which reinterprets both pieces in light of each other. It could have been just an arbitrary thought, but in fact it’s a beautiful marriage of the two pieces, because they do seem to converse with each other. Besides, they’re written in largely the same style – they’re only four years apart.

Jason: When we talked about adding the Daniel-Lesur to the Francaix, I started to listen to the two pieces together on my playlist. I was jumping back and forth between the two works, and there were a few times when I thought “Whoa – that was crazy! Let me do that again!” and the concept of the interlacing took shape.

Scott: They were talking to each other!

What does it feel like to perform in Old South Church?

Scott: It’s beautiful! The sound is lovely, the setup is sensible, and Old South Church’s organ is as perfect as you’d find in this town.

Jason: It’s a large space to fill but feels intimate, not cavernous. Even when you’re on stage, it doesn’t feel like you’re playing into a bathtub, it feels like you’re playing to something very familiar.

Scott: A number of the singers have also sung in the choir here, so they’re very familiar with the space.

How does the “Song of Songs” inform the program—and why pair such a sexy text with the more chaste Faure Requiem?

Jason: First of all, about the Faure, anyone who doesn’t think that two violas in split harmony and two cellos in split harmony, and harp isn’t sexy... well, let’s just say I don’t think we’d make it past the first date.

Scott: The Daniel-Lesur is extremely sensuous, and it’s very frankly about sexuality. We’re in America, so sex is either conceived of as pornographic or somehow naughty. But this is not the right way to think about either of the “Song of Songs” settings. It’s like the question: Is this sacred, or is it secular? The answer is “Yes.” And these all show it in different ways. I would never argue that the Requiem is a sensuous text in the way that the “Song of Songs” is. But it’s profound—I mean, all music is about sensuality; it’s about sound and emotion and things that can’t be conveyed in words.

Jason: On a basic level, the first half is profound, but the second half is sacred.

Scott: And the Gombert is right in the middle. Now those motets are EXTREMELY sexy. There are incredibly dissonant overlaps, all these false relations—and this is a liturgical piece. He’s really pushing it one way. And the Daniel-Lesur is a secular, a non-liturgical piece, which is very religious as well.

Jason: It’s an interesting combination of contexts.

Jean Françaix seems to be best known for frothy wind concoctions. Is his Symphonie d’archets serious?

Jason: Curiously, Francaix has become somewhat of a staple in our recent repertoire. This fall, we performed his narrative work Gargantua with Robert Pinsky, and before that, we tackled his six Preludes for strings. All of the music that we’ve explored has had a playful side, but also something extremely tender, a little whimsical but also wistful. There’s always a bit of irony hiding away. But I don’t believe that makes the work any less serious. In a way, Francaix’s music is extremely honest, and refreshing. Actually, we recently received an email from his son in Paris, who was happy to hear that we had performed Gargantua. Hopefully he’ll be tuning in to our live stream on Friday night!

Scott: Just a couple of weeks ago, I discovered an Ode to Gastronomy for 12 voices, written by Francaix. He was doing everything!

Any danger of A Far Cry running out of string symphonies?

Jason: We get that question a lot, but we’ve actually found it to be true that our repertoire options keep expanding the longer we stay together. It’s true that there are only a few of the truly “classic” string serenades like the Tchaikovsky, but there is actually a huge amount of other repertoire available to us. And unlike a symphony orchestra, which has about 200 years of music to choose from, we can select repertoire from pretty much any point in music history: Baroque, Renaissance, even early vocal music. When you add in the fact that nearly every culture has some kind of string instrument, and the possibilities for crossover projects, you have a huge, nearly unprecedented, body of repertoire—which is crowned by a number of string quartets that we’ve been able to re-imagine for a larger group. Of course, this week has made us excited about something else entirely: the potential for more collaborations with voices. Stay tuned on that front! We have a whole violin section that didn’t get to play the Faure, and they are hungry for another project!

 

Devotion Program Notes

Enjoy these program notes for "Devotion", written by Scott Metcalfe and Kathryn Bacasmot. 

Song of Songs: Gombert and Daniel-Lesur

by Scott Metcalfe

Pose moi comme un sceau sur ton coeur, comme un sceau sur ton bras, car l’amour est fort comme la mort, la jalousie est dure comme l’enfer, une flamme de Yahvé! Les grandes eaux n’ont pu éteindre l’amour, les fleuves ne le submergeront pas!

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a sign upon your arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy is bitter as the grave, a flame from Yahweh! Great seas have not been able to extinguish love, rivers will not drown it!

The first half of our program presents several conversations: between interpretations of a text, between composers and compositions, between two ensembles. We open with two motets by Nicolas Gombert (c. 1495-1560) which set texts from the Song of Songs recast as antiphons to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Although Gombert’s motets are devotional works for liturgical or paraliturgical use, his intensely sensuous music, perfused with expressive dissonance, seems to emphasize the earthy origins of the Song as a Hebrew love lyric rather than its later, scriptural life as religious allegory. In Ortus conclusus, for five voices, the mood is dark, mysterious, and urgent; Descendi in ortum meum, for six, is open and radiant: in both, the endlessly unfolding, overlapping counterpoint is saturated with suspensions and pungent clashes between flats and naturals, naturals and sharps, which both structure the music into waves of tension and release and create an atmosphere of amorous intoxication.

 If Gombert’s motets reveal the sensuous within a sacralized text, Jean-Yves Daniel-Lesur’s twelve-voice setting of the words of the Song translated into French, Le Cantique des Cantiques, places a religious frame around the love poetry. The piece offers a beautifully condensed version of the entire Song, touching on all of its major themes, images, and characters: the main protagonists, a girl and a boy who speak to and of each other in direct, highly physical terms; the Daughters of Jerusalem; the watchmen; King Solomon and his retinue; the dancing Shulamite; gardens, orchards, vineyards, pastures, and hills; the city of Jerusalem, the desert, Gilead, Amana, Mount Carmel. But the first word is “Alleluia,” from Hebrew via Greek, and words in the sacred languages of Latin and Hebrew pervade the texture. Only in The enclosed garden and The Shulamite are the words exclusively the French text of the Song. The former offers a striking counterpart to Gombert’s “enclosed garden,” every bit as mysterious and dreamy, while the second is a head-spinning dance in 5/8 time which dissolves at the last moment. The movement toward a sacred interpretation culminates in an ecstatic Epithalamium or wedding song built on the words and melody of the plainchantVeni sponsa Christi, leading up to a final Alleluia.

We present the seven movements of Le Cantique des Cantiques (1952), performed by Blue Heron, interspersed with the four movements of Jean Francaix’s Symphonie d’archets (1948), performed by A Far Cry. At some moments the dialogue between these two contemporary works is uncanny: be sure to listen closely as one movement ends and the next begins!

Jean Françaix:: Symphonie d’archets (Symphony for Strings)

by Kathryn J Allwine Bacasmot

We sometimes speak of modern composers who go through a “neo-classical” phase. Stravinsky, for example, or Prokofiev. For Jean Françaix it was never a phase, it was his idiom. His music displays a consistently crystalline quality, a sonic equivalent to gazing at a beautifully cut gemstone. The structure and designs are evident, and brilliantly dazzling in their complexity and craftsmanship, despite however simply they may appear to be set. He wanted his music to “give pleasure,” and he succeeded. A pervasive sunny quality is often present, but the music manages to sidestep sounding glib or naïve, rather it sounds genuinely delighted to exist. Its moments of solemnity are thoughtful but not obsessive. It reflects without melancholy. It seems to have no regrets. In some ways his work inherits the witty, bright, effervescent writing (in part their reaction to the romantic and post-romantic era’s heavy-handed excesses and drama) typified by the loosely associated collective of French composers colloquially referred to as “Les Six”: Honegger, Milhaud, Tailleferre, Auric, Durey, and Poulenc.

The sonorities of the Symphonie d’archets are unmistakably of recent times, with its winking employment of dissonance, and lilting jazz-like rhythms. To quote one of his biographers, who put it very succinctly “His style…expresses his harmonic language very freely” while remaining “resolutely tonal.” All around him, Françaix’s colleagues were heading into deeper experimental territory, preoccupied with deconstructing tonality, itself, and delving into philosophical questions about the very nature of sound. But here, and in his oeuvre, Françaix is content to link himself to the great traditions of the past, never abandoning the terminology and structural traditions of the craft of music, though he infused them with a modern flavor. The Symphonie was premiered in 1948, with the venerable Nadia Boulanger, his former teacher, conducting.

Kathryn J Allwine Bacasmot is a pianist/harpsichordist, musicologist, music and cultural critic, and freelance writer. A graduate of New England Conservatory, she writes program annotations for ensembles nationwide.

Fauré Requiem

by Scott Metcalfe

Mon Requiem…on a dit qu’il n’exprimait pas l’effroi de la mort, quelqu’un l’a appelé une berceuse de la mort. Mais c’est ainsi que je sens la mort: comme une délivrance heureuse, une aspiration au bonheur d’au-delà, plutôt que comme un passage douloureux.… Peut-être ai-je aussi, d’instinct, cherché à sortir du convenu, voilà si longtemps que j’accompagne à l’orgue des services d’enterrement! J’en ai par-dessus la tête. J’ai voulu faire autre chose.

My Requiem…people said it did not express the terror of death; someone called it a lullaby of death. But that is how I feel death: as a happy deliverance, a yearning for the happiness of the beyond, rather than as a painful crossing.… Perhaps also my instincts have led me to side-step convention, as I have been accompanying burial services on the organ for so long! I am fed up with that. I wanted to do something else

—Gabriel Fauré to Louis Aguettant, 1902

Although beloved virtually since its creation and an enduring staple of the repertoire, for most of the twentieth century Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem was known only in a conventional orchestration which was prepared years after Fauré considered the work finished, probably by one of the composer’s students, in response to the demands of the publisher Julien Hamelle. In its original scoring, the Requiem deployed divided violas and cellos, contrabass, organ, harp, and timpani; a solo violin appears only in the Sanctus, soaring above voices and orchestra alike. Fauré later added horns, trumpets, and eventually trombones, but never sections of violins or woodwinds. The rich sonority of the lower strings, underpinned by organ and brass and decorated by filigree in the harp, is a fundamental part of the music’s conception which was obscured until the late twentieth century. Today we are using an edition by Jean-Michel Nectoux and Roger Delage, published in 1994 by none other than J. Hamelle et Compagnie, that restores Fauré’s original orchestration of 1893. We employ forces appropriate not to a concert hall, but to a church, honoring the Requiem’s many performances in churches under the composer’s direction, including its first performance for a funeral at La Madeleine in Paris, where Fauré was choirmaster and organist. (“As far as the number of voices in the chorus is concerned, it naturally depends on the proportions of the hall in which you give your concerts,” Fauré wrote to Eugène Ysaÿe.) On the other hand, free from the church’s stricture against mixed choirs, we happily use women’s voices for the upper parts, including a female soloist for the Pie Jesu—exactly as Fauré did in every concert performance he ever conducted.

Another aspect of how Fauré heard his Requiem is even less commonly understood, and that is the pronunciation of Latin. Until well into the twentieth century Latin was pronounced across Europe more or less according to the rules of the vernacular, so that each country’s Latin spoke with a distinctive accent. The tradition was particularly strong in France, which clung proudly to its sense of Gallic independence from Rome. Differences between national pronunciations were so marked at the time of the First Vatican Council of 1869-70 that the Vatican had to train reporters specially so that they would be able to record what the delegates from various countries were saying—all in Latin, the common working language of the Catholic Church! In 1903 Pope Pius X called for a single pronunciation of Latin for the whole Church; naturally he inclined to his own Italianate variety. But the reform took decades and met with considerable resistance. “Aimez le latin même sous le vêtement qui lui ont donné les siècles parmis nous, l’accomodant aux évolutions de notre langue, car il n’a jamais cessé d’être nôtre. Ne l’obligeons pas à prendre un déguisement étranger ou d’arlequin…” pleaded a French curate and phoneticist in 1928. (“Love Latin in the guise which its centuries among us have given it, fitting it to the growth of our language; for it has never ceased to be ours. Don’t force it to take up a foreign or harlequin disguise…”) Only with the Second Vatican Council of 1962-65 did universal Italianate pronunciation finally prevail.

Today we employ the traditional French Latin that Fauré knew; indeed, he could have imagined no other. Not only does French Latin make better sense of certain aspects of his declamation (consider, for example, “LibeRA me,” with its rising end stress), its reedy vowels and softened consonants lend a characteristically French elegance and refinement to this perfectly poised, most serene Requiem.

Scott Metcalfe is the artistic and music director of Blue Heron.

  

A New Year's Cry!

2016 is here... and wow!

First things first, we hope that this finds each of you doing well as we cross over the line into another year. We're all in this together, and we wouldn't have it any other way. 

The turning of the year is always a great chance to take a second and just look around. So we glanced back at 2015. Three words: That was fun!

From our Grammy nomination to the rocket-to-the-moon success of "Crossing" to our "Best of Boston" moment, it's been an extraordinary run. There are still some moments when we look back and say "Hey, did that really happen? 

But really - and this is always, always, true - it's not about the high points. It's about the work that we do every day, with each other. We are a group that is continually thinking about process, dreaming about shared virtuosity, and helping each other to be as creative and communicative as we can be. That's our real purpose. Accolades are always great, and affirming - but it's because they're a reflection of the work we love. 

So here we are, looking forward after looking backward. And there's no doubt that 2016 is a year that fills us with excitement. It's the year of our Tenth Anniversary Season, which is coming right up! (It's so tempting to drop even one hint of some of what's in store next year, but it's still under wraps!) We're also very close to hiring a wonderful Executive Director, which will move the organization forward in ways that, frankly, we still can't imagine. 

And right around the corner, we're looking forward to a fantastic spring filled with concerts and collaborations. Before January even ends, we will have performed the Faure Requiem with a choir we've been admiring for years - Blue HeronIt all comes back to the work, and ringing in 2016 with these inspired singers is a bit of a collective dream come true. 

We can't say often enough that this is all possible because of you. Your presence, your partnership, your listening ears and inspired minds, your love, and the million ways that you help and support us. 


2016 begins in gratitude. 


With love and music, 

The Criers

A Chat with Gabriel Kahane: Ramen, Punch Brothers, and Hanging with Franz

Miki Cloud, AFC violinist and co-curator of Old Friend, met with this week's guest artist, Gabriel Kahane to talk Schubert, food, and their collaboration.

Miki Cloud: Our first creative meeting for this collaboration was at New York's Toto Ramen - a cult favorite.  Do you think Schubert would be a ramen fan, and if so, what would his order be?  (Shio, miso, tonkotsu, veggie or spicy? ) 

GK: Schubert would absolutely have been a ramen fan, but I'm fairly certain that he, being such a sickly fellow, would have been diagnosed with some super annoying allergy that would have mostly prevented him from eating ramen, except at lame-o gluten-free vegan ramen joints. This would then precipitate him to ignore his allergy and go on a three day ramen binge where he'd eat three bowls of tonkotsu ramen daily until he fell into a noodle-induced stupor, leading to the recently discovered late masterpiece, Ramengesang.

MC: Describe your ideal day hanging out with Schubert.  I'll assume you're both a bit hungover post-schubertiade.

GK: If I had an opportunity to hang out with Schubert, I would sit him down over Smith Oatmeal Stout (which I think he would like) in a quiet pub and pepper him with questions about musical architecture. For like sixteen hours.   

MC: How was it writing for us -- maintaing your voice without, well, your voice?  Were you inspired by the G Major Quartet?

GK: I absolutely adored writing for A Far Cry. This project came about in a fairly unusual way for me, inasmuch as I kind of cold-called you, Miki, and said, "I'd love to do something for you guys!" I was so bowled over by how great your recording of Ted [Hearne]'s Law of Mosaics was, and just couldn't wait to work with a bunch of whipsmart musicians like yourselves. That being said, I got seriously stuck writing this piece. I was initially planning to write a piece inspired by the slow movement of the G Major Quartet that's on the second half of the program, but about ten or twelve minutes of music into the piece (and about a month's time gone by), I realized that I was writing something that didn't feel authentic to me. So I scrapped every note I'd written and began again. In the end, the piece I wrote is Schubertian inasmuch as it very specifically references a song of mine, a technique to which Schubert was in no way a stranger. As to the question of maintaining my compositional voice in the absence of the human voice, and my voice specifically — I think I will need to hear the piece before I know whether or not it "sounds like me". And I can't wait!

MC: As a multi-faceted creative person, how do you manage your time?  Do you keep yourself on a strict schedule?

GK: Ugh. Tough question. Often times, I simply don't manage time very well. I can become overwhelmed by everything that needs to be done and instead get nothing done. When I am working well, I turn off the modem and phone before I go to sleep, wake up and make a very detailed schedule of tasks to accomplish — sometimes dividing up the day into chunks as small as 15 minutes — and then complete the list before turning on modem/gadgets that serve as distraction... I'm presently trying to get back to that place. 

MC: Are you excited to be back in Boston?

GK: I am very excited to be back in Boston. I spent only my freshman year at NEC [as a jazz piano major (!)]  before transferring to Brown, but during that formative time, I heard dozens of concerts at Jordan Hall, and have extremely fond memories of the warmth of that space. I haven't set foot in the building in more than fifteen years, so I am feeling fuzzily nostalgic.

MC: How has it been touring with Punch Brothers?  Have they influenced your composing and songwriting?  

GK: Touring with Punch Brothers has been one of the absolute highlights of my career. Tonight I'll play my 40th and final show of the year opening for the band, and I have enjoyed each and every gig. One of the things that sets this kind of touring apart from the work that I do in the world of concert music is that there's a totally different set of concert-going mores. When I take the stage, particularly as an opening act, there's no assumption that the audience will be quiet and attentive unless I can convince them that I've earned their attention. For me, wrangling a club audience into happy submission, if I can call it that, has been a huge joy. But it's not simply about willing an audience to be quiet — there's also the fact that audiences in club settings will respond vocally during pieces in a way that can be hugely gratifying, much in the same way as was common during Mozart's time. I think the classical music world would benefit from that ethos. 

As to Punch Brothers themselves — they are one of the truly great chamber ensembles of our time, and also one of the most hard-working bands I've had the pleasure to know. Watching them engaged in grueling rehearsal at soundcheck every day sets a high bar for work ethic among touring acts, and has made me want to work harder. Dave Sinko, the brilliant sound engineer for the band, records every show, and the boys tend to listen to every show that they play so that they know what to work on for the next one. It's inspiring and intimidating to know musicians who are that committed to progress.

MC: This is such a rich collaboration.  We can't wait to make music with you this week!  

Old Friend Notes

 

Our friendly December show is right around the corner, and here's your chance to read up on what we'll be performing before you even walk in the door! We have a note from Gabriel on his new piece and a "fantasia" on Schubert and his last quartet by our resident musicologist, Kathryn Bacasmot. (The notes for all the songs will be delivered from the stage, Schubertiade-style!) 

Gabriel Kahane: Freight and Salvage

Freight & Salvage, for string orchestra, is an exploration of the relationship between my work as a songwriter on the one hand, and my work in more formal musical environments, e.g., the concert hall in which you are sitting, on the other! As much as Freight & Salvage sounds little like Schubert or Mahler, it is nevertheless deeply indebted to both of those titans, in the sense that as master songwriters, they found ways to re-use and deepen material from their songs in larger instrumental works. In writing this piece, I thought a great deal about Schubert's journey that led him to his final instrumental masterpieces, and in particular, the last three string quartets, piano sonatas, and the cello quintet.

From an architectural standpoint, however, Freight & Salvage is much more indebted to Bartok, who was a great proponent of the arch form, which is the structure I've used in this piece. To understand an arch form, imagine that a mirror is held up to the first half of a piece, so that the second half resembles the first half, but with the themes or sections played in the opposite order in which they first appeared. In this case, the form is A-B-C-D-C-B-A, followed by the coda, and the entire form (excepting the coda) is a mirror image of itself. The outer most part of the form (A) is a chaotic, fragmented paroxysm of scattered bits of information that nevertheless contains all the DNA for the whole piece. This is followed by a lyrical section (B) that gradually picks up steam until we reach (C), an energetic tune with a bit of a lilt. This is followed by (D), the figurative center-of-the-onion, after which the sections re-appear in reverse order (C - B - A), finally giving way to the coda, in which the original (song) source material is revealed. 

- Gabriel Kahane

 

Franz Schubert: String Quartet in G major, D. 887


He was the son of a schoolmaster who auditioned for Antonio Salieri and gained membership in
the imperial Hofkapelle (now the Vienna Boys Choir). Despite his training and opportunities, 
and the support of a music-loving family with whom he played chamber music as a child, his
need for income guided him back to the family profession: school teaching. That proved
unsatisfying, and he embarked on a lifetime of composing and wandering, never really having a
stable home—but perhaps never really wanting one. Schubert was never going to be the kind of
person who would schmooze with the aristocracy. He seemingly preferred the company of his
“Bildung circle,” a small group of friends who pursued intellectual and cultural self-
improvement together, and his Schubertiads where his works could be performed in an intimate
setting being heard by people who were more interested in actively listening than being
entertained. He was apparently a man of extremes; cordial and jovial, yet haunted by deep
melancholy and a snap of temper, and whenever he was flush with money he immediately spent
it on things like drinks and concerts with friends (on one occasion he bought tickets to see
Paganini). 


At age twenty Schubert had written an astonishing amount of music, including five symphonies, 
hundreds of songs, and a host of other works—but had no public recognition at all. The sheer
volume astonished Beethoven who apparently was shown scores of Schubert’s pieces on his
deathbed. By then Schubert was thirty years old, and the amount had swelled to nine symphonies
(in varying levels of completion), six hundred songs, dozens of chamber works, multiple masses
and more. For perspective, by the time Beethoven was that age, he was premiering his first
symphony. One year after Beethoven’s death a concert was held on the exact anniversary date of
his passing. The music would be entirely by Schubert, the first time he presented an entire
evening of his own works for the public. Included on that program was the first movement of
what would turn out to be his last quartet, the G major. Coincidentally the work was performed
by the Schuppanzigh quartet (minus Schuppanzigh, himself, who was indisposed that evening), 
the same group that premiered Beethoven’s last quartet, the op. 135. Strangely, both final
quartets were written the same year, in 1826. Eight months after the concert Schubert was dead, 
too, at age thirty-one. Though their respective last quartets were linked by circumstance, there is
no record that the two composers ever met in person, though they lived and worked in the same
city, Vienna, for Schubert’s entire life. 


In Schubert’s final song cycle, Winterreise, the protagonist address a lonely organ grinder to
whom “no one wants to listen, no one looks at...” by pondering in the last stanza: “Strange old
man, shall I go with you? Will you grind your hurdy-gurdy to my songs?” It begs us to wonder if
Schubert feared his works would go unrecalled by future generations, his name forgotten. 
Though he certainly had brushes with notoriety during his own lifetime, his submissions to
publishers were sometimes returned with the excuse that the musical language was “too difficult
for trifles,” and that “...the public does not yet sufficiently and generally understand the peculiar, 
often ingenious, but perhaps now and then somewhat curious procedures of your mind's
creations.” What did the audience think hearing the stark major/minor chords that open the G
major quartet for the first time? How did they hear it when their ears were used to the likes of
Mozart and Rossini? How fitting that the memory of Beethoven was in the space when Schubert
unveiled the scope and drama of the quartet. It was, after all, thanks to these two men that the
genre was pushed out from private quarters and private entertainment and forced to encompass
entire emotional worlds, and contain the potency of the symphonic realm within the confines of
limited players. For that, among many other reasons, Schubert will never be forgotten.

Our WCRB Podcast

On Sunday, 12/13 at 7 PM, A Far Cry's performance of "A Tale Of Two Sixes" (our Corelli/Handel op. 6 love-fest) will be playing on WCRB 99.5 as part of a new podcast, The Answered Question. Alan McClellan interviews Jae and Michael as part of the fun. There's a nice write-up of the show excerpted below - and if you're not able to tune in in person, you can stream it here after the fact! Enjoy! 

A Far Cry - the name of this orchestra brings to mind something out of the ordinary, off the beaten track, something special. And that's just what A Far Cry delivers. 

Formed in 2007 in Jamaica Plain, A Far Cry is the Chamber Orchestra in Residence at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. The group still rehearses in Jamaica Plain, at a storefront they share with a couple of small theater groups.

It's an unassuming place, with a little shingle out front - and inside, some of the best music-making in town. Last week the Criers were rehearsing "A Tale of Two Sixes" - a concert of 6 Concerti grossi by Arcangelo Corelli and George Frideric Handel. The concerti come from each of the composers' Opus 6 collections - those are the two sixes in the title.

On most of its programs, A Far Cry creates "outside the box" combinations - a program might include a Handel Concerto Grosso, but it might be combined with something by Stravinsky, or even a newly-commissioned piece.

But for this concert, the Criers are focusing in on string music from early 18th century Europe - concertos by Corelli, the great violinist of Rome, who invented the Concerto Grosso, and Handel, the brilliant young opera composer, the toast of London, who took the Concerto Grosso to new heights of inventiveness.

They met in 1707 or 1708, on Handel¹s tour of Italy.  Handel studied with Corelli while he was visiting Rome. Handel was an up-and-coming young composer, and Corelli was ready for retirement. But the younger composer must have been dazzled, in the presence of the great violin virtuoso of his generation. 

Handel couldn¹t help but be influenced by Corelli¹s style, and he even arranged his opus numbers so that his collection of concerti grossi would come out as Op. 6, just like those of his famous teacher.

Executive Director Search

A Far Cry is in the midst of a search for the next, crucial, member of our organization - our first-ever full-time Executive Director. We've been getting closer and closer to this juncture for a long time and have benefitted hugely from the near-superhuman efforts of Kelly Reed, our first Administrative Director, and then Graham Wright, our Interim Executive Director. 

Now it's go time. 

The job description is making the rounds, and we're getting some great submissions. Meanwhile, we thought we'd go ahead and post it here on our own turf. And in true Crier style, we have two documents to peruse: 

our official job description, and our version of "the straight dope" - some plain, real, talk about what's in store, both for you, and for us! 

Take a look! And feel free to share! 

 

Official AFC job description 

The Straight Dope

 

 

 

#ArtsMatterDay

Today is #ArtsMatterDay.

Here's a gorgeous shot (taken by Eric Antoniou) of A Far Cry's last Jordan Hall concert. We were lucky enough to share the stage with former US Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky who lit up the stage on both halves of the concert - here reading a hilarious translation of Rabelais' satirical giant story, and in the first half, reading the poem "Verklarte Nacht" before A Far Cry set out to play the Schoenberg work that referenced it. Arts matter in more ways than can ever be counted, but there were two moments of silence in that performance that brought home one of the million ways in which they can hit.

The first was right after Pinsky read "Verklarte Nacht" - with gravity and grace, lingering on words and unpacking meaning. This was a moment for everyone, but especially the musicians, who had just been given a new window into the piece we were about to play. The space around us literally grew. Each note became more real. Every phrase had more direction, more weight, more narrative substance.

The second pause was at the end of the piece, about half an hour later. As we finished playing, Jordan Hall fell into silence; a beautiful and utterly still shared silence that lasted. This silence felt different from the first; it was a gift that we were giving each other, and in some ways it was a gift directly from our listeners, who were the ones who decided, in the end, when the piece was finally over.

We are all in this process together. We influence and inspire each other in so many ways, known and unknown.

Art makes it possible.

#ArtsMatter

Caroline Shaw (ft. Kanye West)

Composer extraordinaire and dear friend of the group Caroline Shaw has just broken the internet, or at least our Facebook feeds, via a special collaboration with Kanye West, a remix of his single "Say You Will."

Caroline was performing live last week with Kanye, a performance that prompted the New Yorker’s Alex Ross to ask the question: can contemporary classical music save hip hop?

We are flabbergasted, overjoyed, and genuinely moved by this beautiful track!

Stream Tonight's Concert FREE

If you're in Boston tonight, come see the concert in person!  

Rush tickets are HALF-PRICE at the NEC Box Office from 7:30 pm.

If you're further afield, our Live-Streaming program is back!   To kick of Season 9, the stream of our very first Jordan Hall concert, Gargantua, is FREE!  Just tune into littledoglive.com tonight at 8:00 pm to join us in Jordan Hall.  For the full concert experience, enjoy these thoughtfully prepared program notes as you listen along.    

Schoenberg:  Verklärte Nacht (Transfigured Night)
Françaix: The Incredible Tales of the Great Gargantua

Two larger-than-life narrative pieces: Schoenberg’s intense tone poem on giant love and Françaix’s wildly entertaining adventures of a lovely giant with former US Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky as reader and narrator.

After tonight, you'll still be able to join us for all of our Jordan Hall concerts this season for an $8 fee/concert, which goes directly toward keeping this innovative digital concert experience going.  See you in Jordan Hall!  Subscribe to the AFC Newsletter to be the first to hear about all upcoming concerts and live-streamed events.