The Measure of Us

GIOACHINO ROSSINI

The Barber of Seville was originally written in 1773 as a play by the French playwright Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. As an opera, it leans into the playful tradition of Italian comic opera of the 17th and 18th centuries, opera buffa. This form of opera uses comedy to explore human behaviour and challenge assumptions.

While the full stage production relies on singers and scenery, tonight's performance focuses entirely on the Overture. An overture is a standalone orchestral introduction designed to capture the audience's attention and preview the musical themes and energy of the drama to come. Even if you are completely new to the concert hall, you will likely recognize this opening piece—it was famously popularized in pop culture through the iconic Looney Tunes cartoon What’s Opera, Doc? (as well as its companion short, Rabbit of Seville), cementing Rossini's frantic, joyful melodies into the minds of generations.

The Story

Act I

The streets of Seville bustle with activity. Each citizen has an ailment or dilemma that needs solving–like the aristocrat Count Almaviva, who has fallen in love with Rosina. Unfortunately, her oppressive legal guardian Dr. Bartolo intends to marry Rosina himself to gain control of her fortune. Determined to win over Rosina based on true love rather than for his wealth or title, Almaviva serenades Rosina outside Bartolo’s house disguised as a member of a tuna, a traditional Spanish musical ensemble made of university students. Almaviva pays the ensemble and their leader Fiorello, and shoos the rowdy crowd away. Figaro, the barber of Seville, finally arrives. He’s quick-witted, resourceful, and deeply connected to everyone in town. After listening to Almaviva’s predicament, Figaro agrees to help, devising a series of elaborate schemes to outsmart Bartolo. Having heard “Lindoro’s” serenade, Rosina writes a letter expressing her budding love for the mysterious suitor while warning "Lindoro” that she can be sweet, but like a viper when crossed. Meanwhile, Rosina’s music teacher Don Basilio muses on the benefits of slander and schemes with Bartolo to discredit Almaviva, whom he suspects is Rosina’s secret lover. Figaro arrives and confirms to Rosina that she is indeed the object of “Lindoro’s” affection; she hands him a note to deliver to "Lindoro." Noticing evidence that Rosina has been writing a letter, Bartolo confronts her and doubles down on his reprimands. Putting Figaro's plan into action, Almaviva pushes into the house disguised as a drunken soldier who claims to be billeted there. Chaos ensues, and the attempt fails, but Almaviva is released to everyone's shock.

Act II

Almaviva returns in another disguise, this time posing as “Don Alonso,” a music teacher supposedly sent to replace Rosina’s usual instructor. As they reaffirm their love, Figaro distracts Bartolo with a shave and steals a key to Rosina’s balcony. Berta, Bartolo’s servant, comments on the outrageous comings and goings of the household. Bartolo grows increasingly suspicious and tries to thwart the lovers by arranging his marriage to Rosina immediately. Distraught by the discovery of a letter that appears to cast doubt on “Lindoro’s” sincerity, Rosina agrees to marry Bartolo. With available options running out, Figaro and Almaviva decide on the ultimate strategy: to reveal the truth. But will Figaro’s resourcefulness be enough to outwit Bartolo, and is Almaviva’s sincerity enough to win Rosina’s heart?

GABRIEL FAURÉ

Much of Fauré's music is characterized by limpid melodies that float on a sea of harmonic elegance, their sails often billowed by a modality which conjures an antique impressionistic ambiance. Antiquity is a proper aura for a work titled Pavane, for the word applies to a stately 16th-century dance that originated in Italy. Fauré's 19th-century incarnation of this slow, processional type of dance mirrors the prototype in being temperamentally austere and rhythmically precise (the accompaniment is often in regularly paced pizzicatos in the strings). The main theme is at once languid and remote. Its first sentence, taken, in turn, by a flute, then oboe and clarinet, is the chief substance of the piece, although a new idea is introduced midway which provides some little intensity - everything is relative.

Fauré wrote a choral part into the score, but, knowing that the piece is quite complete in the orchestra alone, indicated that the voices could be used or not.

– Orrin Howard

Program notes curtesy of the LA Phil

MAXIME GOULET (b. 1980)

Listen to classical music while eating chocolate! Symphonic Chocolates is a perfect soundtrack for a chocolate tasting. It’s an orchestral suite in four short movements in which each movement evokes a different flavour of chocolate. During the concert, the audience is invited to eat four small chocolates while each movement of corresponding flavour is being played.

I – Caramel Chocolate: A long lyrical melody supported by a rich and enveloping sonority.

II – Dark Chocolate: An intense habanera of desire and seduction, spiced up with a dissonant bitterness.

III – Mint Chocolate: A delicate freshness with icy cold sonorities.

IV – Coffee-infused Chocolate: An espresso tempo with a Brazilian flavour.

Commissioned by the National Academy Orchestra of Canada, and their artistic director Boris Brott, as part of a composer residency, for the 25th anniversary of the Brott Music Festival. The piece is dedicated to Ardyth and Boris Brott to thank them for all the artistic support they have given to the composer.

Premiere: August 2nd, 2012, by the National Academy Orchestra of Canada and the conductor Boris Brott, during the Brott Music Festival, in Hamilton.

Visit Symphonic Chocolates’ web site:

www.chocolatssymphoniques.com

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

I. Allegro 
II. Adagio un poco mosso –  
III. Rondo: Allegro ma non troppo 

Of the published concertos by Beethoven (1770–1827), his Fifth Piano Concerto, which he composed during the winter of 1808–1809, was the last one he completed in that genre. (He started to write a sixth piano concerto in 1815 but abandoned the project with only part of the first movement written.) Beethoven dedicated Op. 73 to Archduke Rudolph, who is also the dedicatee of the Fourth Piano Concerto, among many other works. By then, Rudolph, who was a formidable pianist and Beethoven’s sole composition pupil, had become a devoted patron and friend of the composer—in February 1809, he was one of three sponsors who helped set up an annuity for Beethoven. Between the concerto’s completion in 1809 and Breitkopf & Härtel’s publication of the score in February 1811, there was at least one private performance given of it by Rudolph himself; on January 13, 1811, Johann Nepomuk Chotek reported hearing the Archduke perform at Prince Leibowitz’s “an extraordinarily difficult and artful but not at all pleasing concerto by Beethoven…with very much technique and expression.” The first public performance of the concerto occurred later that year, on November 28, by Friedrich Schneider in Leipzig; Carl Czerny gave the first Viennese performance in February 1812 (evidently, Beethoven’s deafness was now too advanced for him to appear as soloist in his own concertos).

The nickname of “Emperor” for Op. 73 is not Beethoven’s; it seems to have been applied predominantly in English-speaking countries to signify the work’s special grandeur. Compared to the composer’s earlier concertos, Piano Concerto No. 5, as Beethoven scholar William Kinderman observes, “is cast in a more brilliant, heroic mould. Its outer movements assume a character, with rhythmic figures evocative of military style and a formal breadth reminiscent of the Eroica Symphony,” which is also in the key of E-flat major. Notably, the innovations in concerto writing that Beethoven brought to Op. 73—particularly a new brilliance in the solo part combined with symphonic procedures—would go on to influence the grand piano concertos of the later 19th century by Robert Schumann, Franz Liszt, Johannes Brahms, and many others. 

The first movement has an expansive structure with an opening that was novel for its time—a written-out cadenza of florid arpeggios and runs for the soloist triggered by imposing orchestral chords. Only after that does the orchestra start the exposition, with the first violins introducing the first main theme—a confidently striding tune. Not long after, the contrasting second theme unfolds in two parts, appearing initially in the minor mode, stated by the first violins in dainty tiptoe fashion, then in a major-mode, smooth-lined version intoned “sweetly” on horn. Later, following the piano’s gentle turn on the first theme and some ruminating flights, the second theme undergoes further transformation from a delicate triplet pattern in the minor to a beautiful meditative line in the major mode (foreshadowing the slow movement), after which the orchestra reinterprets it as a snappy march. In the movement’s central section, motives from both themes are further developed, with a mighty passage of double octaves for the soloist in between. After a dramatic return to the bold cadenza of the beginning (though now shortened), the recap of themes proceeds as before. Near the end, at the conventional orchestral pause for an improvised cadenza, Beethoven subverts expectations by instructing the soloist not to make a cadenza (“non si fa una cadenza”) and to continue directly on to a written-out solo passage. It leads back to the second theme on horn over sparkling piano figures, which then take us into the final dazzling passages of the movement.

The second movement, with its serene atmosphere, seems to be from another world entirely. Set in the key of B major (tonally remote from the concerto’s main key of E-flat major), it opens with muted strings singing a melody of devotional character. When the piano enters, this becomes a slow-moving hymn underneath the soloist’s contemplative fantasia. After a free variation and a cadenza-like passage, the piano returns to the opening melody, adding embellishments as it progresses. The tune is then picked up by the woodwinds and is further outlined by the first violins on the offbeats, while the piano decorates it with alternating notes. Eventually, the music settles to stillness on a B held on bassoons, then shifts downward a semitone to B-flat, now quietly suspended on horns. Over this, the piano tentatively tries out an ascending pattern of chords; then, after a brief pause, it breaks out into the robust main theme of the finale. As per rondo form, this tune’s recurrences are interspersed with extended episodes featuring virtuosic elements both delicate and boisterous, all of it giving the movement a grandly sonorous effect through to its exuberant conclusion. 

Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD 

Program notes curtesy of the National Arts Centre Orchestra