As we begin this wonderful new series with The Phoenix Symphony’s Chamber Orchestra at the MiM, we want to begin by offering you a series of “gifts” to thank you for being with us. Gifts can take on a wide array of meanings, as we will explore with today’s musical offerings. Gifts are a way to show gratitude, appreciation, reconciliation, support. They are a way to show who we are. They are a way to connect with others.

Vivaldi has left us not only the gift of music but also prose. In his Four Seasons he includes his own sonnets to describe the music- something that had never been done before by a composer. This is a gift into the eyes, mind, and heart of someone born almost 350 years ago: the things he saw, the things he experienced, and the things he felt. Each line of text he writes is then represented musically through effects. This style, or technique, is known as programmatic music, where the music describes a literal event or feeling. Yet another revolutionary feat by Vivaldi.

I often find that Autumn can be an emotionally confusing time- shorter days, leaves and petals gradually beginning their descent back to the earth, animals preparing for their farewell into hibernation. Yet, like with all seasons, there is true beauty in Autumn which to me demarcates the first of the renewal of cycles. We must go through this period in order to come out renewed on the other side. There is a tremendous amount of celebration and victory to rejoice in Autumn, and that is what makes this Vivaldi season so special.

Opening with “Allegro- Ballo, e canto de’ villanelli” (Fast, Dance and song of peasants) Vivaldi shares:

“The countryman celebrates with dance and song
the sweet pleasure of a good harvest,
and many, fired by the liquor of Bacchus,
end their enjoyment by falling asleep.”

The gift given to them by their land.

The second movement, “Adagio, ubriachi dormienti” (Slowly, sleeping drunkards) takes us to a completely different state- perhaps one that happens after the celebrations of the gift of their land. The music becomes still, lacking a clear melodic line, and the absence of rhythm from the harpsichord represents a lack of motion. Only slumber.

“Everyone is made to forget their cares and to sing and dance
By the air which is tempered with pleasure
And (by) the season that invites so many, many
Out of their sweetest slumber to fine enjoyment”

Out of this restful period Vivaldi gives us a jolt to wake up and begin The Hunt, “La caccia”. The strings imitate horn calls typically used during hunts in this period, and even mimicking gunshots.

“The huntsmen come out at the crack of dawn
with their horns, guns and hounds;
the quarry flees and they track it;

already terrified and tired out by the great noise
of the guns and hounds, the wounded beast
makes a feeble effort to flee but, overwhelmed, dies.”

Cuatro Estaciones Porteñas (Four Seasons of Buenos Aires) by the genius Astor Piazzolla is a gift from me to you. Born and raised in Buenos Aires, Argentina, I was fortunate to have the incredible artform of tango all around me. My grandparents met dancing tango. All artists in Argentina- whether rock bands, poets, composers, etc.- have been heavily influenced by tango. It is our folklore, and it is something we love to share. Last season, during my first rehearsal with The Phoenix Symphony, we rehearsed a tango and I mentioned to them how special of a moment that was for me since I had never conducted a tango in my career. I wanted to recreate this moment and, as a good Argentinian obsessed with tango, share a little piece of that special moment with you.

What makes Piazzolla a gift to me is his fusion of 2 things I adore- Argentinian folklore and classical music. Piazzolla transcended the limits of traditional tango, pushing the boundaries with his use of dissonance, complex harmonies, and intricate rhythms. Drawing influences from both classical and jazz music, he transformed his sound. Moving away from the dance hall, he brought his compositions to the concert stage, where his listeners were often more familiar with classical or jazz genres than with traditional tango.

Today we begin our Argentinian journey with “Otoño” (Autumn), through an adaptation by Leonid Desyatnikov, who arranged it for solo violin and orchestra, inspired by Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The numerous Vivaldi quotations- sometimes seamlessly integrated into the music, other times more overtly inserted- not from Piazzolla himself. However, it’s important to remember that Piazzolla’s own performances often featured significant improvisation, so the additions or alterations made by performers or arrangers would be seen by him as part of this creative approach.

The music begins almost where we leave off with the Vivaldi- rhythmic, hunt-like, rough. Typical Piazzolla. We then arrive at a polar opposite section- reflective, almost sensual in introspection. Typical Tango. We somehow transition, without realizing, to a tantalizing flurry at the end, as if 2 people getting together after the hunt, after the introspection, to dance their furies and passions away. Together. Typical Tango. Typical Piazzolla. Typical Argentina. A small gift from me to you.

Gifts can be given in many different forms and our next 2 composers communicated their love through the gift of composition. Mahler’s massive Symphony No. 5 includes one of the most personal and private moments that he ever composed. The Adagietto comes between the gargantuan 3^rd movement and the jaunty, celebratory 5^th and final movement. It was composed shortly after a major hemorrhage that left Gustav on the brink of death. This music was written to his new love, Alma Schindler. It is almost a respite from life itself, on the seesaw of life and death, into the ethereal world of love between two people that only music can describe. This was a musical love letter to his soon-to-be wife, Alma. She claims he also left a short letter behind with her which reads:

In which way I love you, my sunbeam,
I cannot tell you with words.
Only my longing, my love and my bliss
can I with anguish declare.

In German, the text fits perfectly into the melody, creating a of vocal-like melodic quality, reminiscent of his 2^nd, 3^rd, and 4^th symphonies. But here, in this moment between Gustav and Alma, no vocalization is needed. The music says everything anyone would ever need to say.

After the birth of Richard Wagner’s son, Siegfried, he wrote Siegfried Idyll as a birthday present to his wife, Cosima. It was premiered in 1870, on the morning of December 25. The soft, loving music began in the entrance of the house, the doors to Cosima’s chamber were opened, and she was awakened by the sounds of love. The music was written with the intention of remaining private, but due to financial pressures, Wagner was forced to publish it. Selfishly speaking, I am quite glad this happened. What a gift not just to his wife, but a gift to humanity.

We must be mindful as we listen to this music, that it is of utmost personal significance. He did not intend for us to hear it. It is like having the opportunity to read someone’s journal. I approach this music with the highest respect for the notes that are on the page, but more so for what they represented in this couple’s life. The quotations and scenes correspond to incidents they lived, which had tremendous personal significance to them. The Idyll includes music from Siegfried and Brünnhilde’s love duet, and from a German lullaby “Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf” (Sleep, little child, sleep) related to his oldest daughter, Eva. These are small glimpses in the deep connection Richard and Cosima shared and into how he wanted to demonstrate his love for her and the family they created. He could not find words, like Mahler, and created his gift as love made of music.

But some gifts are best kept a secret…are you ready for one more gift from us to you?

Gifts can help us celebrate and they can help us contemplate. Like Vivaldi’s Autumn.

Gifts can help us connect with who we are and help us share ourselves. Like Piazzolla and me, and me to you.

Gifts can declare our love, create intimate moments, and generate the most personal of emotions. Like for Mahler and Wagner.

The meaning of a gift can change depending on from whom it emanates and to whom it is received by. The same can be said for music. Composers put themselves into their music, but it is up to us to receive the meaning of it in our own way. We must remain open to what the music, what the composer, what the musicians are trying to tell us. But we shouldn’t limit ourselves and our feelings and imagination to react intuitively to what we experience. We must allow ourselves to be touched and moved and provoked by these gifts of sounds. As you read my pontification on the music we have curated for you, with which I hope you will allow yourselves to be touched, moved and provoked, I have one small request to remember: There are no answers given to us by music, only questions to ponder.

“¡Música! Melancólico alimento para los que vivimos de amor”.

“Music! Melancholic food for those of us who live on love.”- Julio Cortazar

Notes by Alex Amsel