Program Notes for RETURN TO AMERICA
Front Range Chamber Players, May 13, 2017
String Quartet No. 12 in F Major, Op. 96, “American”, by Antonín Dvořák
Allegro ma non troppo
Lento
Molto vivace
Finale. Vivace, ma non troppo
Dvorak wrote his String Quartet in F major during a brief but happy summer vacation in Spillville, Iowa, in 1893. This sojourn was a welcome change from the heavy duties of his tenure at New York’s National Conservatory of Music, where he served as director from 1892-95. Spillville was a Czech community (it still is), and Dvorak spent many productive days there, surrounded by familiar language, customs, and food. He sketched the “American” quartet in only three days (June 8-10, 1893), and had it completed in fifteen. His comment in his sketchbook was concise: “Thank God. It went quickly. I am satisfied.” The premiere of the quartet was given in Boston by the Kneisel quartet on New Year’s Day, 1894. The work was so successful that this group performed the work fifty times at various venues in that same year. Today it remains one of the composer’s most performed works.
So why the subtitle “American”? The issue of a specifically “American” influence on such works as this and the “New World” Symphony has intrigued music lovers for years: how did life – and music – in America influence Dvorak? Nationalist Americans of the time were quick to claim that here at last was an authentic American classical music based on American materials. But Dvorak himself would have none of that. He denounced “that nonsense about my having made use of original American melodies. I have only composed in the spirit of such American national melodies.”
And what does THIS mean? The quartet does contain a number of elements typical of some original African American music, and even of some music of Native Americans. These include the lowered minor seventh in the minor scale, the marked syncopation, the constant ostinato rhythms, and, above all, the pentatonic character of nearly all the melodies. (Pentatonic refers to the use of a five-note, gapped scale, with deliberate omission of the fourth and seventh degrees of the major scale. The consecutive black keys of the piano yield exactly the pitches of this scale.) On the other hand, critics also have pointed out that these elements are also typical of much Czech and Slavonic music, as are its occasional use of parallel thirds and sixths.
It is perhaps more important to notice that this music goes against the long tradition of the typical European quartet form in its general homophonic character. It avoids harmonic or polyphonic accompaniment to the principal melodic line, as if the composer were trying to create a song for one voice, uninterrupted by subordinate parts. Indeed, the work has been criticized for its lack of “erudition” and sophistication. But its enormous popularity has only served to support Dvorak’s assertion that he wanted to “write something for once that was very melodious and a straightforward, and dear Papa Haydn kept appearing before my eyes, and that is why it all turned out so simply. And it’s good that it did.”
The first movement is a sonata form. Quiet string tremolos provide the foundation for the viola’s opening theme. Its rising and falling shape (spanning one and a half octaves) and sharp syncopations will eventually yield much of the substance of the first movement. A songful second subject in the violin in A minor reinforces the fundamental relaxed mood of the movement and incorporates other typically “American” aspects: the lowered seventh and marked pizzicato accompaniment in the cello. A quiet final theme in A major – also pentatonic – soon develops rich harmonies, yet establishes a sense of tranquility in the movement. The development is short, introducing no major discussions or dramatic interchanges. It ends with a brief fugal passage derived from the opening viola subject, but this is almost immediately abandoned, adding little complication to this movement’s continuous flow of melody. The recapitulation has a new passage inserted between the main and second subjects. There is a brief coda built from two motives from the main theme.
The Lento movement is a continuous flow of melody, as the violin’s soaring theme (marked molto espressivo) rises hauntingly over a throbbing accompaniment. This melody passes from violin to cello (in its eloquent upper range) and on to the other voices. The broadly arching and entirely unified lament moves effortlessly towards its culmination roughly two thirds of the way through the movement, then gently recedes to allow the music to return to its muted, melancholic mind-frame. The ending, where the cello revisits the theme while the other instruments alternate pizzicato and bowed notes, is especially effective. Some have seen in this movement a reflection of the homesickness and loneliness that might affect someone who has found himself in the middle of the vast prairie. Dvorak, in describing the “empty spaces” in a letter to a friend, commented, “And everything is so wild here, sometimes it is extremely bleak, enough to make a person despair.”
The Scherzo rips along in a cheerful mood; some may detect a similarity to the character of the Scherzo of the “New World” symphony. In any event, the movement provides an effective contrast to the second movement. The music has a terse, rustic character and is comprised of two contrasting segments that alternate with one another according to the scheme A-B-A-B-A. The more lively segment A is in F major, while segment B in F minor is actually an augmentation of the A idea. Heard high up in the first violin in segment A are further variants: at least four different snippets of the songs of the scarlet tanager, a bird Dvorak would have heard on his walks along the Turkey River. This delightful movement is an evocation of dance, the outdoors, and the piercing simplicity of nature’s own music.
Radiating joyfulness, the last movement follows the scheme of the typical Rondo form found in many finales: its scheme is A-B-A-C-A-B-A. An ostinato staccato rhythm underlies both themes A and B, calling to mind some the primitive drum rhythms of Native Americans. There is an intermezzo of several bars, reminiscent of a piece of organ improvisation, inserted between parts A and C. The following part C is almost vocal in character, like a chorale. A biographer has commented “Perhaps thoughts of morning worship in the little Spillville church flickered through Dvorak’s mind.” (It is known that Dvorak often played for mass on the little organ at the St. Wenceslaus Church, which he and is wife attended.) The meditative episode of Part C is of short duration, and the main themes return and also the overriding jubilant atmosphere of the movement, which Dvorak maximizes in the coda in an expression of uninhibited joy.
“American” music? Or Czech? The British commentator Richard Grimes once described Dvorak’s Opus 96 as “eating blueberry pie and washing it down with Slivovic.”
by Robert Molison
Spring Serenade for Flute and Piano by Peter Schickele
Invocation
Pastorale
Whirlwind Waltz
Song
Finale
No doubt Peter Schickele is known to many as his satiric creation and alter-ego, P.D.Q. Bach (1807-1742, according to P.D.Q.’s official biography). But the real Schickele is a well-trained, established composer of serious classical music. Raised in Ames, Iowa, Washington D.C. and Fargo, North Dakota (his father was an agricultural economics professor in those cities), he studied theory and composition at Swarthmore College, receiving that school’s first music degree, and at Juilliard, where he received his M.S. His composition teachers include Roy Harris, Darius Milhaud at the Aspen Music School, Vincent Persichetti and William Bergsma. An accomplished bassoonist, he was a member of a chamber rock trio that performed in various revues. He taught later at Juilliard, has scored for film and television, written songs for various artists, a string quartet, and (among other serious works) this Spring Serenade.
Sue Ann Kahn, a flutist who premiered and recorded a Schickele cantata, asked him to write something for flute and piano. He finished this piece in 1983 and it was premiered in 1984. Initially the flute sounds from offstage and gradually joins the onstage piano. The mood is serene at first. The Pastorale captures the Spring atmosphere. The five movements are relatively short and (according to one review) they capture the composer’s “fondness for effective simplicity combined with a sensitive feeling for harmony and mood.”
Certainly mention should be made of the P.D.Q. Bach side (P.D.Q. is known as J.S. Bach’s “last and least offspring.”) He was created in about 1953. Schickele had a childhood interest in the dramatic, and he and his brother ran a theatre in their basement, inspired by movie serials, westerns and Spike Jones. Schickele wrote humorous pieces as an undergraduate, then at Juilliard (teaming with conductor Jorge Mester for a humorous concert there – it became an annual tradition). He became the master of parody of classical works. Examples: the oratorio Oedipus Tex, featuring the O.K. Chorale, his Fanfare for the Common Cold, and Pervertimento for Bagpipes, Bicycle and Balloons. The reader can find the full (long) list of P.D.Q. Bach’s works by doing an internet search. Watch for the Schickele number after the title (“S…”) – these are appropriate to the piece. The reader should not view the list of works in a public place because he might laugh out loud. by Roberta Mielke
Rising by Joan Tower
Joan Tower, born September 6, 1938, is a Grammy-winning contemporary American composer, concert pianist and conductor. Lauded by the New Yorker as “one of the most successful woman composers of all time”, her bold and energetic compositions have been performed in concert halls around the world. Born in New Rochelle, New York, Tower moved to Bolivia when she was nine years old. Her talent in music, particularly on the piano, grew rapidly due to her father’s insistence that she benefit from consistent musical training. She returned to the United States to study music at Bennington College and then at Columbia University, where she was awarded her doctorate in music in 1968. Tower rose to prominence as the pianist for the Da Capo Chamber Players in New York and wrote several important chamber works for them. Buoyed by the immediate success of her first orchestral works, she left this group in 1984 to accept a faculty position at Bard College, a post she holds today. She often composes with specific ensembles or soloists in mind and aims to exploit the strengths of these performers in her music.
Rising was commissioned by Backshore Artists Project on the occasion of flutist Carol Wincenc’s 60th birthday. The premiere took place on March 31, 2010, at the Juilliard School in New York. Performing were Ms. Wincenc and the Juilliard String Quartet. On the composition of the work, Tower wrote:
"This is my fourth piece written for Carol Wincenc, an extraordinary flutist with a deep musicality. (I think she could make 'Three Blind Mice' sound like it came from heaven!) I have always been interested in how music can go up. It is a simple action, but one that can have so many variables: slow or fast tempos, accelerating, slowing down, getting louder or softer – with thick or thin surrounding textures going in the same or opposite directions. For me, it is the contest and the “feel” of the action that matters. A long climb, for example, might signal something important to come (and often hard to deliver on!) A short climb, on the other hand, might be just a 'hop' to another phrase. One can’t, however, just go up. There should be a counteracting action, which is either going down or staying the same to provide a tension within the piece. (I think some of our great composers, especially Beethoven, were aware of the power of the interaction of these 'actions'.) The main theme in Rising is an ascent motion using different kinds of scales – mostly octatonic or chromatic – and occasionally arpeggios. These upward motions are then put through different filters, packages of time and varying degrees of 'heat’ environments which interact with competing ‘static’ and downward motions."
Writing of this work in Music Web International, Steven Arloff noted that Haydn’s “Sunrise” quartet was given its title because its opening is a good example of music describing the action of rising, as also is Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending. He added:
"Joan Tower’s Rising is a brilliant addition to these works. The music perfectly achieves its aim and the flute seems to be the ideal instrument to use for this purpose. It is an extremely evocative piece of great beauty which represents everything that is the best about contemporary music, namely, that it is exploratory yet immediately accessible."
by Robert Molison
Café Music by Paul Schoenfield
Allegro
Rubato, andante moderato
Presto
Born in Detroit, Michigan in 1947, Paul Schoenfield writes music that combines classical, folk, and popular forms. Once an active concert pianist, Schoenfield now teaches composition at the University of Michigan. Perhaps the best summary of Schoenfield’s career to date is the tribute that the distinguished music commentator Klaus George Roy delivered on the occasion of his receiving the Cleveland Arts Prize’s 1994 Music Award:
“Paul Schoenfield writes the kind of inclusive and welcoming music that gives eclecticism a good name. In the tradition of Bach, who never left German soil but wrote French suites, English suites and Italian concertos, and in the tradition of Bartók, who absorbed and transformed not only Hungarian music, but that of Romania, Bulgaria and North Africa, Paul draws on many ethnic sources in music, assimilating them into his own distinctive language. … If Paul considers himself essentially a folk musician, it is surely a highly sophisticated one. His rich and multi-branched musical tree grows from strong and well-nourished roots. What he communicates to us is marked by exuberant humor and spontaneous freshness, however arduous the process of composition may actually have been. His work rises from and returns to those fundamental wellsprings of song and dance, of lyricism and physical motion, and often of worshipful joy, that have always been the hallmarks of genuine musical creativity.”
Schoenfield’s music has a sentimentality and overt emotionalism that seem directly descended from the American vaudeville tradition. He has been compared with Gershwin, and one writer has asserted that his works “do for Hassidic music what Astor Piazzolla did for the Argentine tango.” Schoenfeld's work is musically sophisticated in the skill with which it's put together, but for the most part, it sounds inescapably like something we've heard before. Like Dvorak, he does not quote specific music but captures its spirit so well that it seems familiar. It has an infectious energy, melodic inventiveness, and strong surface charm, which some listeners will find highly attractive but others may look down upon as derivative.
Café Music was commissioned by the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and it premiered it at their concert of January, 1987, with Schoenfield at the piano. The composer wrote the following note:
“The idea to compose Café Music first came to me in 1985 after sitting in one night for the pianist at Murray’s Restaurant in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Murray’s employs a house trio that plays entertaining dinner music in a wide variety of styles. My intention was to write a kind of high-class dinner music – music which could be played at a restaurant, but might also (just barely) find its way into a concert hall. The work draws on many of the types of music played by the trio at Murray’s. For example, early 20th-century American, Viennese, light classical, gypsy, and Broadway styles are all represented. A paraphrase of a beautiful Chassidic melody is incorporated in the second movement.”
The first movement is a jazzy song and dance recalling vaudeville, kletzmer, and Gershwin. The second movement opens with a bluesy melody played in turn by the piano, cello and violin. The second theme is the Chassidic melody that Schoenfield noted, which also recalls the Southern laments that Stephen Foster brought us. The Presto brings us back to klezmer and Gershwin at his most frenetic, and it ends with a vaudeville flourish.
Café Music is a challenging piece for players and a fun addition to the classical chamber repertoire. Who said classical music can’t be light-hearted and fun? (Yes, stuffy old music critics.) However, Café Music is too compelling to dine by; food would grow cold while listeners are riveted to it. Much to Schoenfield’s surprise, Café Music has become a concert hall hit, a sparkling modern addition to the chamber repertory, performed and recorded by many classical chamber groups. by David Patton Barone
Program notes draw on open-access web resources.
Allegro ma non troppo
Lento
Molto vivace
Finale. Vivace, ma non troppo
Dvorak wrote his String Quartet in F major during a brief but happy summer vacation in Spillville, Iowa, in 1893. This sojourn was a welcome change from the heavy duties of his tenure at New York’s National Conservatory of Music, where he served as director from 1892-95. Spillville was a Czech community (it still is), and Dvorak spent many productive days there, surrounded by familiar language, customs, and food. He sketched the “American” quartet in only three days (June 8-10, 1893), and had it completed in fifteen. His comment in his sketchbook was concise: “Thank God. It went quickly. I am satisfied.” The premiere of the quartet was given in Boston by the Kneisel quartet on New Year’s Day, 1894. The work was so successful that this group performed the work fifty times at various venues in that same year. Today it remains one of the composer’s most performed works.
So why the subtitle “American”? The issue of a specifically “American” influence on such works as this and the “New World” Symphony has intrigued music lovers for years: how did life – and music – in America influence Dvorak? Nationalist Americans of the time were quick to claim that here at last was an authentic American classical music based on American materials. But Dvorak himself would have none of that. He denounced “that nonsense about my having made use of original American melodies. I have only composed in the spirit of such American national melodies.”
And what does THIS mean? The quartet does contain a number of elements typical of some original African American music, and even of some music of Native Americans. These include the lowered minor seventh in the minor scale, the marked syncopation, the constant ostinato rhythms, and, above all, the pentatonic character of nearly all the melodies. (Pentatonic refers to the use of a five-note, gapped scale, with deliberate omission of the fourth and seventh degrees of the major scale. The consecutive black keys of the piano yield exactly the pitches of this scale.) On the other hand, critics also have pointed out that these elements are also typical of much Czech and Slavonic music, as are its occasional use of parallel thirds and sixths.
It is perhaps more important to notice that this music goes against the long tradition of the typical European quartet form in its general homophonic character. It avoids harmonic or polyphonic accompaniment to the principal melodic line, as if the composer were trying to create a song for one voice, uninterrupted by subordinate parts. Indeed, the work has been criticized for its lack of “erudition” and sophistication. But its enormous popularity has only served to support Dvorak’s assertion that he wanted to “write something for once that was very melodious and a straightforward, and dear Papa Haydn kept appearing before my eyes, and that is why it all turned out so simply. And it’s good that it did.”
The first movement is a sonata form. Quiet string tremolos provide the foundation for the viola’s opening theme. Its rising and falling shape (spanning one and a half octaves) and sharp syncopations will eventually yield much of the substance of the first movement. A songful second subject in the violin in A minor reinforces the fundamental relaxed mood of the movement and incorporates other typically “American” aspects: the lowered seventh and marked pizzicato accompaniment in the cello. A quiet final theme in A major – also pentatonic – soon develops rich harmonies, yet establishes a sense of tranquility in the movement. The development is short, introducing no major discussions or dramatic interchanges. It ends with a brief fugal passage derived from the opening viola subject, but this is almost immediately abandoned, adding little complication to this movement’s continuous flow of melody. The recapitulation has a new passage inserted between the main and second subjects. There is a brief coda built from two motives from the main theme.
The Lento movement is a continuous flow of melody, as the violin’s soaring theme (marked molto espressivo) rises hauntingly over a throbbing accompaniment. This melody passes from violin to cello (in its eloquent upper range) and on to the other voices. The broadly arching and entirely unified lament moves effortlessly towards its culmination roughly two thirds of the way through the movement, then gently recedes to allow the music to return to its muted, melancholic mind-frame. The ending, where the cello revisits the theme while the other instruments alternate pizzicato and bowed notes, is especially effective. Some have seen in this movement a reflection of the homesickness and loneliness that might affect someone who has found himself in the middle of the vast prairie. Dvorak, in describing the “empty spaces” in a letter to a friend, commented, “And everything is so wild here, sometimes it is extremely bleak, enough to make a person despair.”
The Scherzo rips along in a cheerful mood; some may detect a similarity to the character of the Scherzo of the “New World” symphony. In any event, the movement provides an effective contrast to the second movement. The music has a terse, rustic character and is comprised of two contrasting segments that alternate with one another according to the scheme A-B-A-B-A. The more lively segment A is in F major, while segment B in F minor is actually an augmentation of the A idea. Heard high up in the first violin in segment A are further variants: at least four different snippets of the songs of the scarlet tanager, a bird Dvorak would have heard on his walks along the Turkey River. This delightful movement is an evocation of dance, the outdoors, and the piercing simplicity of nature’s own music.
Radiating joyfulness, the last movement follows the scheme of the typical Rondo form found in many finales: its scheme is A-B-A-C-A-B-A. An ostinato staccato rhythm underlies both themes A and B, calling to mind some the primitive drum rhythms of Native Americans. There is an intermezzo of several bars, reminiscent of a piece of organ improvisation, inserted between parts A and C. The following part C is almost vocal in character, like a chorale. A biographer has commented “Perhaps thoughts of morning worship in the little Spillville church flickered through Dvorak’s mind.” (It is known that Dvorak often played for mass on the little organ at the St. Wenceslaus Church, which he and is wife attended.) The meditative episode of Part C is of short duration, and the main themes return and also the overriding jubilant atmosphere of the movement, which Dvorak maximizes in the coda in an expression of uninhibited joy.
“American” music? Or Czech? The British commentator Richard Grimes once described Dvorak’s Opus 96 as “eating blueberry pie and washing it down with Slivovic.”
by Robert Molison
Spring Serenade for Flute and Piano by Peter Schickele
Invocation
Pastorale
Whirlwind Waltz
Song
Finale
No doubt Peter Schickele is known to many as his satiric creation and alter-ego, P.D.Q. Bach (1807-1742, according to P.D.Q.’s official biography). But the real Schickele is a well-trained, established composer of serious classical music. Raised in Ames, Iowa, Washington D.C. and Fargo, North Dakota (his father was an agricultural economics professor in those cities), he studied theory and composition at Swarthmore College, receiving that school’s first music degree, and at Juilliard, where he received his M.S. His composition teachers include Roy Harris, Darius Milhaud at the Aspen Music School, Vincent Persichetti and William Bergsma. An accomplished bassoonist, he was a member of a chamber rock trio that performed in various revues. He taught later at Juilliard, has scored for film and television, written songs for various artists, a string quartet, and (among other serious works) this Spring Serenade.
Sue Ann Kahn, a flutist who premiered and recorded a Schickele cantata, asked him to write something for flute and piano. He finished this piece in 1983 and it was premiered in 1984. Initially the flute sounds from offstage and gradually joins the onstage piano. The mood is serene at first. The Pastorale captures the Spring atmosphere. The five movements are relatively short and (according to one review) they capture the composer’s “fondness for effective simplicity combined with a sensitive feeling for harmony and mood.”
Certainly mention should be made of the P.D.Q. Bach side (P.D.Q. is known as J.S. Bach’s “last and least offspring.”) He was created in about 1953. Schickele had a childhood interest in the dramatic, and he and his brother ran a theatre in their basement, inspired by movie serials, westerns and Spike Jones. Schickele wrote humorous pieces as an undergraduate, then at Juilliard (teaming with conductor Jorge Mester for a humorous concert there – it became an annual tradition). He became the master of parody of classical works. Examples: the oratorio Oedipus Tex, featuring the O.K. Chorale, his Fanfare for the Common Cold, and Pervertimento for Bagpipes, Bicycle and Balloons. The reader can find the full (long) list of P.D.Q. Bach’s works by doing an internet search. Watch for the Schickele number after the title (“S…”) – these are appropriate to the piece. The reader should not view the list of works in a public place because he might laugh out loud. by Roberta Mielke
Rising by Joan Tower
Joan Tower, born September 6, 1938, is a Grammy-winning contemporary American composer, concert pianist and conductor. Lauded by the New Yorker as “one of the most successful woman composers of all time”, her bold and energetic compositions have been performed in concert halls around the world. Born in New Rochelle, New York, Tower moved to Bolivia when she was nine years old. Her talent in music, particularly on the piano, grew rapidly due to her father’s insistence that she benefit from consistent musical training. She returned to the United States to study music at Bennington College and then at Columbia University, where she was awarded her doctorate in music in 1968. Tower rose to prominence as the pianist for the Da Capo Chamber Players in New York and wrote several important chamber works for them. Buoyed by the immediate success of her first orchestral works, she left this group in 1984 to accept a faculty position at Bard College, a post she holds today. She often composes with specific ensembles or soloists in mind and aims to exploit the strengths of these performers in her music.
Rising was commissioned by Backshore Artists Project on the occasion of flutist Carol Wincenc’s 60th birthday. The premiere took place on March 31, 2010, at the Juilliard School in New York. Performing were Ms. Wincenc and the Juilliard String Quartet. On the composition of the work, Tower wrote:
"This is my fourth piece written for Carol Wincenc, an extraordinary flutist with a deep musicality. (I think she could make 'Three Blind Mice' sound like it came from heaven!) I have always been interested in how music can go up. It is a simple action, but one that can have so many variables: slow or fast tempos, accelerating, slowing down, getting louder or softer – with thick or thin surrounding textures going in the same or opposite directions. For me, it is the contest and the “feel” of the action that matters. A long climb, for example, might signal something important to come (and often hard to deliver on!) A short climb, on the other hand, might be just a 'hop' to another phrase. One can’t, however, just go up. There should be a counteracting action, which is either going down or staying the same to provide a tension within the piece. (I think some of our great composers, especially Beethoven, were aware of the power of the interaction of these 'actions'.) The main theme in Rising is an ascent motion using different kinds of scales – mostly octatonic or chromatic – and occasionally arpeggios. These upward motions are then put through different filters, packages of time and varying degrees of 'heat’ environments which interact with competing ‘static’ and downward motions."
Writing of this work in Music Web International, Steven Arloff noted that Haydn’s “Sunrise” quartet was given its title because its opening is a good example of music describing the action of rising, as also is Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending. He added:
"Joan Tower’s Rising is a brilliant addition to these works. The music perfectly achieves its aim and the flute seems to be the ideal instrument to use for this purpose. It is an extremely evocative piece of great beauty which represents everything that is the best about contemporary music, namely, that it is exploratory yet immediately accessible."
by Robert Molison
Café Music by Paul Schoenfield
Allegro
Rubato, andante moderato
Presto
Born in Detroit, Michigan in 1947, Paul Schoenfield writes music that combines classical, folk, and popular forms. Once an active concert pianist, Schoenfield now teaches composition at the University of Michigan. Perhaps the best summary of Schoenfield’s career to date is the tribute that the distinguished music commentator Klaus George Roy delivered on the occasion of his receiving the Cleveland Arts Prize’s 1994 Music Award:
“Paul Schoenfield writes the kind of inclusive and welcoming music that gives eclecticism a good name. In the tradition of Bach, who never left German soil but wrote French suites, English suites and Italian concertos, and in the tradition of Bartók, who absorbed and transformed not only Hungarian music, but that of Romania, Bulgaria and North Africa, Paul draws on many ethnic sources in music, assimilating them into his own distinctive language. … If Paul considers himself essentially a folk musician, it is surely a highly sophisticated one. His rich and multi-branched musical tree grows from strong and well-nourished roots. What he communicates to us is marked by exuberant humor and spontaneous freshness, however arduous the process of composition may actually have been. His work rises from and returns to those fundamental wellsprings of song and dance, of lyricism and physical motion, and often of worshipful joy, that have always been the hallmarks of genuine musical creativity.”
Schoenfield’s music has a sentimentality and overt emotionalism that seem directly descended from the American vaudeville tradition. He has been compared with Gershwin, and one writer has asserted that his works “do for Hassidic music what Astor Piazzolla did for the Argentine tango.” Schoenfeld's work is musically sophisticated in the skill with which it's put together, but for the most part, it sounds inescapably like something we've heard before. Like Dvorak, he does not quote specific music but captures its spirit so well that it seems familiar. It has an infectious energy, melodic inventiveness, and strong surface charm, which some listeners will find highly attractive but others may look down upon as derivative.
Café Music was commissioned by the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and it premiered it at their concert of January, 1987, with Schoenfield at the piano. The composer wrote the following note:
“The idea to compose Café Music first came to me in 1985 after sitting in one night for the pianist at Murray’s Restaurant in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Murray’s employs a house trio that plays entertaining dinner music in a wide variety of styles. My intention was to write a kind of high-class dinner music – music which could be played at a restaurant, but might also (just barely) find its way into a concert hall. The work draws on many of the types of music played by the trio at Murray’s. For example, early 20th-century American, Viennese, light classical, gypsy, and Broadway styles are all represented. A paraphrase of a beautiful Chassidic melody is incorporated in the second movement.”
The first movement is a jazzy song and dance recalling vaudeville, kletzmer, and Gershwin. The second movement opens with a bluesy melody played in turn by the piano, cello and violin. The second theme is the Chassidic melody that Schoenfield noted, which also recalls the Southern laments that Stephen Foster brought us. The Presto brings us back to klezmer and Gershwin at his most frenetic, and it ends with a vaudeville flourish.
Café Music is a challenging piece for players and a fun addition to the classical chamber repertoire. Who said classical music can’t be light-hearted and fun? (Yes, stuffy old music critics.) However, Café Music is too compelling to dine by; food would grow cold while listeners are riveted to it. Much to Schoenfield’s surprise, Café Music has become a concert hall hit, a sparkling modern addition to the chamber repertory, performed and recorded by many classical chamber groups. by David Patton Barone
Program notes draw on open-access web resources.
