October 27, 2019 - Program Notes
- Heather Bentley - Laniakea
- Edvard Grieg - Peer Gynt
- Felix Mendelssohn - Symphony no. 3 ("Scottish")
Composer Heather Bentley's notes for Laniakea
This piece was commissioned by Thalia Symphony Orchestra and we are pleased to perform the world premiere
Learn more about Ms. Bentley at http://www.heatherbentleymusic.com/about.html
What if you had a universe to communicate, but you could only speak fifteen words per minute? What if you needed complex math to solve astrophysics problems, but you couldn't hold a pencil? What if you were hearing music from a distant planet, but nobody believed you? I was invited to write a piece for Thalia Symphony and I immediately began thinking about Stephen Hawking, Sun Ra, and the shape of the supercluster we reside in: Laniakea. Big orchestra, big thoughts. A few weeks after I'd been gleefully reading up on Hawking, he passed away and started appearing in my dreams. I thought "joke's on you, Stephen", because he didn't believe in an afterlife. In any case, I've been inspired by space all my life, and Hawking, who constructed 3D models of physics problems in his mind, illuminates the possibility of using entirely different tools to approach any task. The Prologue to the piece slows the normal cadence of speech to one word every four seconds, and is an invitation to consider the increased weight and breadth of a single word, when it isn't rushing toward the next. I owe a lot to Sun Ra finding his space music, influencing a world where free jazz flourishes, and sounds of the peaceful spheres permeates. I owe a lot to knowing that he heard something utterly outside his realm, and wore the mantle of responsibility to bring it, and believe in it. I'm fascinated right now that the Hawaiian (official) name for our supercluster translates as "Immeasurable Heavens" at a time when some Hawaiians are protesting the construction of a new telescope on the sacred volcano, Mauna Kea, a measuring device that would attempt to measure the un-measurable, and cause harm to a sacred space on earth. Hawking's advice might be to find another way. Sun Ra's advice might be to listen closely.
Laniakea is the name of the supercluster of which the Milky Way is a tiny galaxy in a far edge of the whole. It’s a Hawaiian term that translates as Immeasurable Heavens. Stephen Hawking and Sun Ra are two people who have inspired me.
Hawking, who was unable to write equations on a board, would create three dimensional models of physics questions in his mind, and rotate them around to view from different angles. I appreciated learning this because I have my own method of turning harmony, melody, structure and rhythm around in my mind as imaginary objects. The method is of my own fashioning and didn’t grow out of my theory classes.
Sun Ra had an interstellar experience as a young man and brought his outer space perspective on our little ball of earth to his musicmaking. He reminds me that it is ok to float above and view the scene with outsider’s eyes.
Prologue. Each of the asterisks denotes one word in the fifteen word sentence: “the string theory concept describes the fundamental constituents of the universe as tiny vibrating strings”.
Hawking was able to speak fifteen words per minute through his vocal prosthetic. The Prologue takes approximately one minute to play, highlighting the speed of speech that is out of step with the speed of mind, but which possibly yields greater attention to the weight of each word.
Speed of Mind. The finger clicks at the beginning of this movements should accumulate in density without resolving into a groove. Things begin to click. It is the sound of mind whirring into gear and might sound like an awakening of cicadas in the evening.
Dance. This one should remain rhythmically precise. Hymn. This is conceived as a hymn to the universe.
This piece was commissioned by Thalia Symphony Orchestra and we are pleased to perform the world premiere
Learn more about Ms. Bentley at http://www.heatherbentleymusic.com/about.html
What if you had a universe to communicate, but you could only speak fifteen words per minute? What if you needed complex math to solve astrophysics problems, but you couldn't hold a pencil? What if you were hearing music from a distant planet, but nobody believed you? I was invited to write a piece for Thalia Symphony and I immediately began thinking about Stephen Hawking, Sun Ra, and the shape of the supercluster we reside in: Laniakea. Big orchestra, big thoughts. A few weeks after I'd been gleefully reading up on Hawking, he passed away and started appearing in my dreams. I thought "joke's on you, Stephen", because he didn't believe in an afterlife. In any case, I've been inspired by space all my life, and Hawking, who constructed 3D models of physics problems in his mind, illuminates the possibility of using entirely different tools to approach any task. The Prologue to the piece slows the normal cadence of speech to one word every four seconds, and is an invitation to consider the increased weight and breadth of a single word, when it isn't rushing toward the next. I owe a lot to Sun Ra finding his space music, influencing a world where free jazz flourishes, and sounds of the peaceful spheres permeates. I owe a lot to knowing that he heard something utterly outside his realm, and wore the mantle of responsibility to bring it, and believe in it. I'm fascinated right now that the Hawaiian (official) name for our supercluster translates as "Immeasurable Heavens" at a time when some Hawaiians are protesting the construction of a new telescope on the sacred volcano, Mauna Kea, a measuring device that would attempt to measure the un-measurable, and cause harm to a sacred space on earth. Hawking's advice might be to find another way. Sun Ra's advice might be to listen closely.
Laniakea is the name of the supercluster of which the Milky Way is a tiny galaxy in a far edge of the whole. It’s a Hawaiian term that translates as Immeasurable Heavens. Stephen Hawking and Sun Ra are two people who have inspired me.
Hawking, who was unable to write equations on a board, would create three dimensional models of physics questions in his mind, and rotate them around to view from different angles. I appreciated learning this because I have my own method of turning harmony, melody, structure and rhythm around in my mind as imaginary objects. The method is of my own fashioning and didn’t grow out of my theory classes.
Sun Ra had an interstellar experience as a young man and brought his outer space perspective on our little ball of earth to his musicmaking. He reminds me that it is ok to float above and view the scene with outsider’s eyes.
Prologue. Each of the asterisks denotes one word in the fifteen word sentence: “the string theory concept describes the fundamental constituents of the universe as tiny vibrating strings”.
Hawking was able to speak fifteen words per minute through his vocal prosthetic. The Prologue takes approximately one minute to play, highlighting the speed of speech that is out of step with the speed of mind, but which possibly yields greater attention to the weight of each word.
Speed of Mind. The finger clicks at the beginning of this movements should accumulate in density without resolving into a groove. Things begin to click. It is the sound of mind whirring into gear and might sound like an awakening of cicadas in the evening.
Dance. This one should remain rhythmically precise. Hymn. This is conceived as a hymn to the universe.
Edvard Grieg - Peer Gynt
notes by Laura Loge, Guest Artist
Henrik Ibsen wrote to Edvard Grieg in January, 1874, asking if he would compose music for his play, Peer Gynt. It took nearly two years for Grieg to complete the incidental music and he often found it tedious and extremely difficult. In a letter, he revealed “the job is proving to be much larger than I had thought, and in some places I am encountering difficulties that have me absolutely stymied.” Of course, parts he easily mastered, such as the most-recognized today including “Solveig's Song” and “In the Hall of the Mountain King.” Grieg didn't always feel admiration toward his own work. About “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” he wrote that it is “something that I literally can't stand to listen to because it absolutely reeks of cow pies, ultra-Norwegianness and trollish self-sufficiency!”
Grieg's frustration was eventually overcome by his desire to finish it and present it to the public in Olso, where it premiered on February 24, 1876. A grand success, the play was repeated thirty-six times with enthusiastic audiences and highly complimentary reviews. Following the Oslo performances, Peer Gynt was staged in Copenhagen a decade later, and in Bergen, and then it toured Scandinavia. Grieg worked through his orchestrations of them when he arranged them into two suites, Op. 46 and Op. 55. It is through these suites that most people encounter Grieg's music.
Each suite is comprised of four scenes. In Suite No. 1, Op. 46, we hear “Morning Mood,” which Grieg described as “a morning scene where I think of the sun breaking through the clouds at the first forte.” His inspiration for the opening notes come from the Hardanger fiddle which has sympathetic strings that resonate when the top strings are played. The pitches of the sympathetic strings provide the melody in “Morning Mood.” Next is “Åse's Death,” a somber eulogy to Peer's mother. To liven things up, “Anitra's Dance” follows, as a “delicate little dance that ... will sound lovely and beautiful.” And finally, Grieg's trollish “In the Hall of the Mountain King” riles up the masses in which the “bass drum and cymbals must thunder and crash for all they're worth.”
Suite No. 2, Op. 55, opens with “The Abduction of the Bride. Ingrid's Lament” and highlights stark contrasts in the characters of the play. Then “Arabian Dance” evokes distant exotic places as Peer travels through the desert. Peer's return home in the next movement, “Peer Gynt's Homecoming,” shows Grieg's ability to render effects and sounds of the most violent nature, with each “crescendo and diminuendo ... strongly emphasized and the tempo ... very agitated.” The final movement is “Solveig's Song,” in which she awaits Peer's return. In the suite, this song is orchestrated with a violin solo, but today we are re-inserting the soprano into the movement, allowing Solveig to sing.
This glorious music is ubiquitous in our culture. Nearly everyone recognizes the melodies from Peer Gynt. We hope to associate once again that music with its composer, Edvard Grieg, and recreate his experience in London about which he said, “... there was excitement the day before yesterday! Every single movement of the suite received thunderous applause, but I just let them clap and went on. At the end the noise was like the howling of animals ... those primitive sounds that occur only in moments of great enthusiasm. I had to make three curtain calls, and then I had to repeat the troll stuff. The performance was absolutely splendid.”
notes by Laura Loge, Guest Artist
Henrik Ibsen wrote to Edvard Grieg in January, 1874, asking if he would compose music for his play, Peer Gynt. It took nearly two years for Grieg to complete the incidental music and he often found it tedious and extremely difficult. In a letter, he revealed “the job is proving to be much larger than I had thought, and in some places I am encountering difficulties that have me absolutely stymied.” Of course, parts he easily mastered, such as the most-recognized today including “Solveig's Song” and “In the Hall of the Mountain King.” Grieg didn't always feel admiration toward his own work. About “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” he wrote that it is “something that I literally can't stand to listen to because it absolutely reeks of cow pies, ultra-Norwegianness and trollish self-sufficiency!”
Grieg's frustration was eventually overcome by his desire to finish it and present it to the public in Olso, where it premiered on February 24, 1876. A grand success, the play was repeated thirty-six times with enthusiastic audiences and highly complimentary reviews. Following the Oslo performances, Peer Gynt was staged in Copenhagen a decade later, and in Bergen, and then it toured Scandinavia. Grieg worked through his orchestrations of them when he arranged them into two suites, Op. 46 and Op. 55. It is through these suites that most people encounter Grieg's music.
Each suite is comprised of four scenes. In Suite No. 1, Op. 46, we hear “Morning Mood,” which Grieg described as “a morning scene where I think of the sun breaking through the clouds at the first forte.” His inspiration for the opening notes come from the Hardanger fiddle which has sympathetic strings that resonate when the top strings are played. The pitches of the sympathetic strings provide the melody in “Morning Mood.” Next is “Åse's Death,” a somber eulogy to Peer's mother. To liven things up, “Anitra's Dance” follows, as a “delicate little dance that ... will sound lovely and beautiful.” And finally, Grieg's trollish “In the Hall of the Mountain King” riles up the masses in which the “bass drum and cymbals must thunder and crash for all they're worth.”
Suite No. 2, Op. 55, opens with “The Abduction of the Bride. Ingrid's Lament” and highlights stark contrasts in the characters of the play. Then “Arabian Dance” evokes distant exotic places as Peer travels through the desert. Peer's return home in the next movement, “Peer Gynt's Homecoming,” shows Grieg's ability to render effects and sounds of the most violent nature, with each “crescendo and diminuendo ... strongly emphasized and the tempo ... very agitated.” The final movement is “Solveig's Song,” in which she awaits Peer's return. In the suite, this song is orchestrated with a violin solo, but today we are re-inserting the soprano into the movement, allowing Solveig to sing.
This glorious music is ubiquitous in our culture. Nearly everyone recognizes the melodies from Peer Gynt. We hope to associate once again that music with its composer, Edvard Grieg, and recreate his experience in London about which he said, “... there was excitement the day before yesterday! Every single movement of the suite received thunderous applause, but I just let them clap and went on. At the end the noise was like the howling of animals ... those primitive sounds that occur only in moments of great enthusiasm. I had to make three curtain calls, and then I had to repeat the troll stuff. The performance was absolutely splendid.”
Felix Mendelssohn - Symphony no. 3 ("Scottish")
The movements are performed without breaks
1. Andante con moto — Allegro un poco agitato
2. Vivace non troppo
3. Adagio
4. Allegro vivacissimo — Allegro maestoso assai
The "Scottish" Symphony was Mendelssohn's last completed symphony, but the third to be published. It was initially inspired by a trip to Scotland in 1829, but not completed until 1842 when it was premiered by the Leipzig Gewandhaus orchestra with the composer conducting. Although in the traditional 4 movement structure, Mendelssohn explicitly asks that there not be a pause between the movements. The effect is of a 'symphony in one movement' and is one of the first attempts at this form. While there are certain suggestions of Scottish tunes and 'snap' dance rhythms, for example, it is not what would be considered musicologically 'authentic' today. Instead it is an exuberant evocation of the Romantic vision of Scotland: Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott, mysterious Ladies and roguish Gentlemen, and the beautiful, dramatic, sometimes terrifying landscape.
The movements are performed without breaks
1. Andante con moto — Allegro un poco agitato
2. Vivace non troppo
3. Adagio
4. Allegro vivacissimo — Allegro maestoso assai
The "Scottish" Symphony was Mendelssohn's last completed symphony, but the third to be published. It was initially inspired by a trip to Scotland in 1829, but not completed until 1842 when it was premiered by the Leipzig Gewandhaus orchestra with the composer conducting. Although in the traditional 4 movement structure, Mendelssohn explicitly asks that there not be a pause between the movements. The effect is of a 'symphony in one movement' and is one of the first attempts at this form. While there are certain suggestions of Scottish tunes and 'snap' dance rhythms, for example, it is not what would be considered musicologically 'authentic' today. Instead it is an exuberant evocation of the Romantic vision of Scotland: Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott, mysterious Ladies and roguish Gentlemen, and the beautiful, dramatic, sometimes terrifying landscape.