PROGRAM NOTES
Daybreak was curated by Crier Michael Unterman
QUINN MASON (b. 1996) Svítání
At age 10, Quinn Mason went on a class field trip to the Dallas Symphony Orchestra where he heard Sergei Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf, a programmatic and colorful work that captured Mason’s imagination and got him fascinated in orchestral music. That early interest in the emotional story-telling expressed through the colorful harmonic capacities of ensemble music is fully voiced in the brilliantly shimmering Svítání, a work that was inspired by a 1973 painting of the same name by the Czech artist František Malý. The artwork depicts a nearly empty field over which a majestic, cathedralesque, structure of richly golden and saffron hues floats against a sapphire sky, flanked by smaller, yet similar shapes in colors of apricot and cream. Its evocation of vibrancy provided the framework to depict the days when society began to reemerge from the 2020 pandemic, and live music returned. Mason elaborates on the meaning of the work in his program note, featured here:
Svítání is a Czech word, which means ‘Sunrise’ or ‘Dawn’. The overall message of this composition is rebirth and renewal, which can relate to the title as well as the birth of a new day or time. The composition itself was born out of a time of great struggle and uncertainty for everyone, which is reflected in the first movement as a calm yet tension filled meditation. The second movement is in a similarly meditative feel, but triumphs this time, ending quietly in introspection like the breaking of dawn on a still and tranquil morning. With this piece being written about such a tumultuous time, the overall message is that we are leaving an old chapter and beginning a new, fresh one, one that will hopefully lead us to better days ahead.
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770-1827) Symphony No. 6 in F Major, Op. 68 (“Pastoral”); arr. Michael Gotthard Fisher & Michael Unterman
Almost from the moment he moved to Vienna in 1792, to study composition with Franz Joseph Haydn, Beethoven captivated the tastemakers of the town. With his wild looks, untamed personality, and unconventional, aggressive pianistic sound paired with undeniable talent—was a top candidate to be the next big thing. Subsequently, he had no trouble finding a series of patrons—even several at once. The aristocracy jostled for the bragging rights of having supported the creation of exciting new works, and at times the competition became so fierce that many families went into tremendous (even ruinous) debt trying to outdo their neighbors. Thanks to this outpouring of enthusiasm Beethoven’s music was soon printed by at least five of the music publishers in town. Carl Czerny, who would become one of Beethoven’s most famous pupils, confirmed the composer, “received all manner of support from our high aristocracy and enjoyed as much care and respect as ever fell to the lot of a young artist.”
In addition to patronage, artists in the 19th century sought opportunities for both income and greater visibility through benefit concerts, collecting the ticket sale revenue from the evening. These opportunities could be difficult to book, and in Beethoven’s case it took multiple tries, but he was finally given a date at the Theater an der Wien: December 22, 1808. The program Beethoven put together for the evening was of stunningly epic proportions, giving ticket holders four hours of new music. It included the Symphony No. 6, a concert aria and a movement from his Mass in C major, and the Piano Concerto No. 4 (with the composer as soloist) for the first half. Starting the second half of the concert was the Symphony No. 5, another movement from the Mass, some improvisation, and finally the Choral Fantasy. While the experience was exciting, it was also a bit of a slog. Johann Friedrich Reichardt, guest of Prince von Lobkowitz, one of Beethoven’s patrons attended the concert with composer, famously reflected, “There we sat, in the most bitter cold, from half past six until half past ten, and confirmed for ourselves the maxim that one may easily have too much of a good thing.”
That night, the first sounds the audience heard floating through the chilled air of the hall were those of the Symphony No. 6, nicknamed the “Pastoral,” evocative of warmer, sunnier days. The work was a unique departure from the composer’s previous symphonic works because it was organized with programmatic content. Each movement contains a preambular sentence, describing a specific scene or emotion, yet strives to reach beyond the picture-painting. A surviving first violin part used at the premiere was inscribed with the direction, “more an expression of feeling than tone-painting.” It is unclear if the musician was writing down something Beethoven said, or making his own mental note in the margins, but it provides us with a key glimpse at the original interpretive instruction. The opening movement characterizes the “Awakening of cheerful feelings upon arriving in the country,” a sensation Beethoven knew well, as he frequently sought comfort and encouragement in nature. After the frolicking and joyful opening, the second recalls a “Scene by the brook,” flowing placidly with an insertion of birdcalls that acts as a kind of warbling cadenza. Next, we happen upon a dance among a “Merry gathering of peasants,” which is suddenly interrupted by a raging storm, complete with multiple strikes and claps of lightning and thunder. As the bad weather dissipates, we once again hear birds, and the “Shepherd’s song—cheerful and thankful feelings after the storm,” bringing the work to a happy ending.
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.
