Festive Overture, Op. 96 (1954)
Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)

Runtime: Approx. 6 minutes

When thinking about the life and music of Dmitri Shostakovich, the predominant narrative that comes to mind is the composer’s tenuous relationship with the Soviet Union. Shostakovich spent much of his life skating on a razor’s edge of Stalin’s approval, a ledge that on one side meant artistic favor and on the other bore the probability of imprisonment or even death. Such a monumental burden offers dramatic insights into Shostakovich’s impetus, but it also produces a story so overwhelming that it somewhat overshadows the legacy of his talent. While he existed in a world of extreme and emotional circumstances, he was also a composer of uncommon technical skill—comparable to masters such as Bach and Mozart.

Composing his first symphony at the age of 19, he produced an enormous collection of works unmatched by his contemporaries. But the lore around his political life often results in an omission of his more human traits: humor, playfulness, the capacity to convey endless emotion, and formidable musical skill both as a pianist and composer. Festive Overture is a perfect example of such abilities.

The story surrounding the composition of the overture seems as if it could have been plucked from the cutting room floor of the film Amadeus. Shostakovich’s friend, Lev Lebedinsky was at the composer’s home with him when he was paid a surprise visit by a conductor from the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra. The conductor explained that they needed an overture for a celebration taking place in just three days’ time. “The speed with which he wrote,” recalls Lebedinsky, “was truly astounding. Moreover, when he wrote light music he was able to talk, make jokes, and compose simultaneously, like the legendary Mozart. He laughed and chuckled, and in the meanwhile work was under way and the music was being written down.”

Indeed, Festive Overture is laced with the kind of frenetic energy that conjures familiar images of the genius who has thrown back one too many espressos and refuses to leave their desk until the work is done.

After beginning with a stately brass fanfare, the strings set off immediately and the music continues to percolate until finally the brass retake the wheel for a final exclamation point. It’s a six-minute firework show that has become one of the composer’s most beloved works, even being used as the musical theme for the 1980 Moscow Olympics. And while the work was created in rapid fire, it is one of only two works that Shostakovich ever chose to conduct himself. Perhaps he didn’t think it was too shabby.

Violin Concerto, Op. 14 (1939)
Samuel Barber (1910-1981)

Runtime: Approx. 22 minutes

In the summer of 1939, Samuel Barber was approached by wealthy businessman Samuel Fels to write a concerto for his adopted son, violin prodigy Iso Briselli. It was Barber’s first foray into concerto writing, and Briselli unfortunately hated the piece. There is no documentation of Briselli’s exact complaints, but stories suggest that he found the first two movements to be too easy, not violinistic, and lacking showmanship, while the last movement was either frivolous, as some have reported, or possibly unplayably difficult. Whatever the exact grievances, Briselli and his teacher asked Barber for extensive rewrites, but Barber was confident in his composition and refused to make the requested changes. Ultimately, Briselli rejected the piece, and it was not given a premiere until February of 1941, when Albert Spalding performed it with the Philidelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy.

If Briselli was hoping for a flashy opening to his concerto, it’s understandable that he was disappointed. Barber was a prolific song and opera composer, and his approach to the concerto still leans heavily into his characteristic lyric sensibilities. The first movement forgoes an introduction, jumping right into an expansive melody. In this movement one can hear the development of the iconic “Americana” sound that was, at the time, being solidified by Barber, Aaron Copland, and their contemporaries with its simple folk-song inspired melodies colored by open, sprawling harmonies. We can also hear the beginnings of what we have come to know as the Hollywood sound. Anyone fond of the soundtrack to films like Out of Africa will find connection to this work.

The second movement takes on a more melancholic tone, offering a lamenting theme first presented by the solo oboe and then handed over to the violin, who continues its elegy in conversation with the oboe, horn, and clarinet.

The third movement, which seems to have been Briselli’s greatest point of contention, adopts a rather different air. Here, Barber offers a fiery antidote to the lyricism of the prior movements, presenting the audience with an opportunity to hear the violin’s full virtuosity on display. The movement is also evocative of Barber’s great Russian contemporaries, Shostakovich and Prokofiev, making use of both the sound world and relentless rhythmic whirlwind so often employed by those composers. In this way, Barber’s Violin Concerto serves as a bridge for this program, connecting Shostakovich’s blazing Overture with Saint-Saëns’ expansive tunefulness.

Despite the initial drama surrounding its composition, Barber’s Violin Concerto has found a secure place in the violin repertoire and has become one of the most beloved and oft-performed contemporary works for the instrument.

Symphony No. 3, “Organ Symphony” (1886)
Charles-Camille Saint Saëns (1835-1921)

Runtime: Approx. 38 minutes

In the latter part of the 19th century, a great debate sprang up amongst the German Romantics about the direction in which music should progress. In one camp, Richard Wagner and his acolytes sought to push the boundaries of music, incorporating story, grand theater, and expanding orchestral music in scale, duration, size, and form. In the opposite camp was Johannes Brahms who insisted on the continuation of absolute music—works that do not employ story or narrative. Brahms preferred the traditional symphonic forms of Beethoven and Mozart and used similarly sized orchestrations to the standard classical-era ensemble.

It was within this musical environment that French composer Camille Saint-Saëns produced his famous third symphony. The “Organ Symphony” was written in 1886 to fulfill a commission by the prestigious Royal Philharmonic Society for a new symphonic work, and while Saint-Saëns’ choice to use the traditional four-movement symphonic form seems to cast his vote firmly in Brahms’ camp, he does incorporate some novel elements which serve to refashion the work. In Saint-Saën’s view, traditional forms need not be totally abandoned (as Wagner suggested) to contemporize symphonic music.

The last composer to significantly amend the symphony was Beethoven, who added the grand spectacle of a full chorus to his triumphant Ninth. Saint-Saëns was a great admirer of Beethoven, and was likely inspired by the composer’s significant contribution to the symphonic genre. Much like Beethoven, he sought to reinvigorate the traditional symphony by expanding on the typical orchestration to one of a more modern size, including several auxiliary instruments. Most significantly, he added two keyboard instruments to the ensemble: the piano and the organ, from which the work takes its name. Perhaps as a further homage to Beethoven, Saint-Saëns chose to perform one of Beethoven’s piano concerti on the first half of the work’s premiere concert.

Despite its novel orchestration, “Organ Symphony” utilizes rather simple melodic material throughout. Readily hummable, the melodies each appear in more than one movement, giving them an air of familiarity by the end of the piece that evokes the experience of hearing folk song. Perhaps because of this, themes from the symphony have been the frequent subjects of adaptations by songwriters, including a reimagining of the final movement’s theme into the song “If I Had Words” by Scott Fitzgerald and Yvonne Keeley. This song was later used in several film soundtracks, including as the main theme for the movie Babe.

Again echoing Beethoven, who ended his symphonic catalog with his iconic Ninth, Saint-Saëns would never again revisit the symphonic form. He felt that the “Organ Symphony” was the pinnacle of what he could contribute to the genre. “I gave everything to it I was able to give,” he remarked. “What I have here accomplished, I will never achieve again.”

For those audience members curious to further explore the Brahms-Wagner debate, the ASO’s next Masterworks series concert (October 25 & 26) presents two works that fully embrace team Wagner: Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice and Berlioz’s monumental Symphonie fantastique.

– Valerie Sly, 2024