Assad - Impressions for String Orchestra

Born in Rio de Janeiro, Clarice Assad has lived in Brazil, France, and the United States. She is
fluent in Portuguese, French, and English, and sings in all three languages, as well as Spanish
and Italian. She is also one of the most widely performed Brazilian concert music composers of
her generation, and is the recipient of numerous honors and awards, including an Aaron
Copland Award, several ASCAP awards in composition, a Morton Gould Young Composer
Award, the Van Lier Fellowship, the Franklin Honor Society Award, the Samuel Ostrowsky
Humanities Award, the New Music Alive Partnership program by the League of American
Orchestras, and a McKnight Visiting Composer Award. Assad holds a Bachelor of Music degree
from Chicago’s Roosevelt University, as well as a Master of Music degree from The University
of Michigan School of Music, where she studied with Michael Daugherty, Susan Botti, and Evan
Chambers.

Impressions is a suite for chamber orchestra and was commissioned by the New Century
Chamber Orchestra in 2008. Written originally for NCCO as a season opener, the purpose of
the piece was to showcase the orchestra’s performers’ diversity and uniqueness and, create a
musical portrait of the first impressions between the musicians of the orchestra and the
composer herself. The first movement is a set of variations for each of the orchestra’s five
sections. The second movement, Dança Brasileira, echoes Assad’s homeland. The film noirs of
Hollywood inspired the middle movement, Slow Waltz, while Perpetual Motion, the fourth
movement, showcases skill and proficiency. The last movement serves as a bridge, and the
suite concludes by reflecting on its opening.

Barber - Violin Concerto

If it hadn’t been for the overwhelming impact of the iconic Adagio for Strings, Samuel Barber’s
most popular work would undoubtedly be his Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 14.
Opening with a glowing, rich romantic melody from the solo violin we are then entertained by
contrasting sections which seem to owe some of their rhythmic qualities to Scottish folk
melodies. The troubled, almost melancholic mood of the second movement gives way in the
finale to a rambunctious flight of energy.

The composer wrote the first two movements of the concerto in 1939 during a summer visit to
Europe - as the 1937 winner of the Rome Prize awarded by the American Academy in Rome,
Barber enjoyed frequent visits to Europe. This trip was, however, quickly curtailed when all
Americans were advised to leave the continent as fears of German military action grew. Initially
Barber struggled to find a sailing back to the US but was able to do so that August.

The original commissioning of the piece came from a wealthy Philadelphia industrialist, Samuel
Simon Fels. In 1934 violinist, and ward of Fels, Iso Briselli graduated from the Curtis Institute of
Music - as did Barber himself. The concerto was intended as a vehicle for Briselli to launch his
career as a soloist. It appears though that Briselli was somewhat disappointed with the lack of
extrovert, virtuosic writing of the first two movements and requested something more
demanding and flashy for the finale. At this point the tale takes a few divergent tracks. We might
assume that Barber was vulnerable, on occasion, to piques of indignation - remember, it was
around this time that he also took umbrage with the conductor Toscanini feeling that he’d
rejected his “Essay for Orchestra” (the Fort Wayne Philharmonic performed this work in
November of 2023). The finale that Barber now wrote was fiendishly difficult and relentless in its
‘moto perpetuo’ demands on the soloist.
Did Briselli reject this because it was too difficult for him or, because he felt it was now an
inappropriate conclusion for the existing first and second movements?

Whatever the truth, Barber was rather mean in setting up a studio performance at Curtis. With
just hours of notice, Herbert Baumel, who was still an undergraduate student, gave a dazzling
account of this helter-skelter finale. The small gathering which received his performance with
great enthusiasm then requested of Briselli that he relinquish his right to the first performance of
the concerto.

Dvořák- Symphony No. 7

In December of 1884, Dvořák wrote to a friend: "I am now busy with this symphony for London,
and wherever I go I can think of nothing else. God grant that this Czech music will move the
world!!" The symphony he was referring to is what we know today as No. 7 in D minor and was
the result of a commission from London’s Royal Philharmonic Society. The society also elected
Dvořák as an honorary member and the work was premiered at the St. James’ Hall with the
composer himself conducting on April 22nd of 1885.

This was the time of fervent European nationalism and Dvořák was a proud Czech well known
for his lighter, exhilarating works such as the Slavonic Dances. But in this symphony, Dvořák
revealed the somewhat darker side of the region’s political struggles. On one of his daily walks
to the Prague railway station Dvořák witnessed a group of his countrymen arriving from Pest to
enjoy a patriotic, musical evening at the National Theatre: "the first subject of my new symphony
flashed in to my mind on the arrival of the festive train”.

Of course, we all love the New World Symphony which Dvořák composed some eight years
later. And if you’re anything like me, that piece has been central to your appreciation of classical
music your whole life. But this earlier symphony is felt by many to be a ‘finer’ composition and
one in which Dvořák allows his own personal feelings to come through more. He’s still very
much under the influence in some ways of his close friend Johannes Brahms, however the
musical personality is pure Dvořák throughout.

The opening movement initially appears dark and almost broody, the timpani and low horns
playing a unison ‘D’ to help set the scene. But soon, and with greater orchestral forces, the
music intensifies and bristles with energy. The much sweeter second set of themes are heard
as a gentle rocking on flutes and clarinets. At the end, the motion is slowed dramatically and we
return to the sombre mood of the opening. The second movement, marked poco adagio, was
written almost certainly as a response to the death of Dvořák’s mother the year before and, the
earlier death of his eldest child. “From the sad years”, was how he referred to this melancholic
but gorgeously lyrical music. For the third movement, the scherzo, we hear the composer at his
most liltingly Slavonic, and he even finds place in the central section to include bird song and
warbling! To return to the opening music of the scherzo, Dvořák treats us to one of his most
rhythmically driven and exciting of transitions. The finale, marked allegro, returns to the dark
mood of the opening movement and the key of D minor dominates. Only in the closing stages
does the composer steer us towards a triumphant and radiant climax in the major key.

For some reason Dvořák had considerable difficulty in getting his publisher, Fritz Simrock, to
take this masterpiece. A good deal of petty wrangling went on before the pair finally came to an
agreement - and this was even after the considerable success of the premier! - including
Simrock’s desire to corrupt Dvořák’s first name to Anton, and at first only offering him 3000
Crowns when 6000 was the going rate!

Years ago, when I was conducting at the Prague Spring Festival, I spent a good deal of time in
the archive of the famous Czech Philharmonic - one of my favorite orchestras! Amongst the
many treasures I got my hands upon there was a set of parts to this Symphony No. 7 which
dated back to the beginning of the twentieth century. I found it fascinating to see how great
conductors of the day, even people who had known Dvořák well, felt totally at ease in making
slight, and not so slight, adjustments to the score! Of course, we need to bear in mind that at
that time there was absolutely nothing unusual about such practice. For several days I made
careful note of these ‘improvements’ and tonight is the first time that I’ve incorporated them in
performance.

-Andrew Constantine