Program Notes | Third Chair Chamber Players

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Program Notes

January 22 & 24, 2010 (notes by Ashley Hassebroek Wegner)
Arnold Bax: Elegiac Trio
Dulcie Holland: Three Dialogues
Libby Larsen: Barn Dances
Henri Zagwijn: Van de Jaargetijden
Jacques Bondon: Le Soleil Multicolore

Arnold Bax: Elegiac Trio (1916)

Arnold Bax wasn’t Irish, though you might think so if you didn’t know otherwise. For almost a quarter of a century, Bax’s works were inspired by Irish tradition and also the country’s political tribulations.

Surprisingly enough, Bax himself was actually born in Streatham, England, in 1883. He grew up in an affluent home in Hampstead, where his gifts, which included music as well as writing poems novels and plays, were nurtured. His attachment to Ireland was born during a trip to discover the “Far West” at age 22. Immediately, he was hooked. He loved the landscapes, the culture, and the Irish people. From then on, Ireland impacted every aspect of his artistic output, including his poetry and his musical compositions.

His Elegiac Trio, which we will hear tonight, definitely falls into the category of works inspired by Ireland. However, it wasn’t the beauty of the islands or the windswept hilltops that inspired this particular piece. Rather, it was the somber political event of 1916 that became known as the Easter Rebellion. The bloody event was organized by Irish republicans for the purpose of ending British rule in Ireland and establishing the Irish republic. This event was profound for Bax not only because it essentially dissolved his dreamlike impression of Ireland but also led to the death of his close friend, Patrick Pearse.

The Trio, written for viola, flute and harp, is divided into two parts and played without a break. The first section begins with the viola playing the melody before being joined by the flute. Eventually, the harp comes in with a series of harmonics and glissandi, producing an interesting timbre. In the slower second section, the viola and the harp join together for a powerful elegy that is highlighted by ornamentation and trills from the flute. Through this often mournful-sounding piece, Bax sought to evoke the Golden Age of the ancient Celtic Paradise as part of a distant past.

While England may have been Bax’s birthplace, the composer clearly conveys in this Elegiac Trio that Ireland was, at the very least, a second home.

Dulcie Holland: Three Dialogues

The opportunity to participate in the beginning of a new piece’s provenance is one of the many things that make groups like the Third Chair Chamber Players so special. Dulcie Holland’s Three Dialogues provides such an opportunity.

Harpist Kathleen Wychulis initially heard Holland’s 10-minute piece, a work for clarinet and harp, on a trip to Australia a few years ago. She was impressed enough to locate the manuscript of the three-movement work so she could play it herself. Since then, she discovered not much is known about the piece, other than a dedication written on the cover of the manuscript: “To June Loney,” who was Alice Giles’ teacher. The manuscript doesn’t have a date, it hasn’t been recorded—in fact, it’s even unclear how many times the work has been performed.

What we do know is a bit about the composer herself. Holland, born in Sydney in 1913, was a cellist, a pianist and prolific composer. Despite that she only studied a few instruments, her musical output was diverse. She wrote works for piano, chamber groups, children’s works, and solo pieces for carillon, saxophone and organ. One of her greatest accomplishments as a composer was creating her Trio for Violin, Cello and Piano, a work that has since become a great treasure in the Australian musical repertoire. In addition to Holland’s fruitful output as a composer, she was also well known for her many books on the technique of writing music. She wrote about two-part writing, melody writing, among other subjects. She fervently believed that teachers play a key role in explaining the art of composition to their pupils.

This short background on Holland may provide a bit of perspective on her Three Dialogues. However, not knowing much about the work is, in a way, enticing. Being among the piece’s first listeners we essentially play a role in writing its history.

Libby Larsen: Barn Dances (2001)

There doesn’t seem to be any kind of musical genre or category Libby Larsen won’t touch. Her catalogue of more than 400 works includes intimate chamber music, large-scale orchestral works and accessible operas. She doesn’t shy away from a challenge or neglect a new idea because it doesn’t seem to fit within the confines of what is expected. Perhaps that is why she is known by many as one of the most prolific and performed living American composers today.

So it’s not a surprise that this inventive, Minnesota-based composer would create a set of fiddle-like tunes for an unlikely combination of instruments, like she did in her 2001 work, Barn Dances.

The four-movement suite for flute, clarinet and piano consists of four abstract pieces, each of which is inspired by the name of a specific dance step used in cowboy dances. The set of contrasting movements begins with “Forward Six and Fall Back Eight,” an exciting, hoe-down-like movement with fun, momentum-spinning rhythms. The second movement, “Divide the Ring,” is a tribute to Gene Autry, with a melody from one of his songs and a catchy saloon-like mood. The third movement, “Varsouvianna,” offers a dream-like waltz with breathtaking simplicity that will have you wanting to get on the dance floor with your partner. The suite finally ends with “The Rattlesnake Twist,” a fast, energetic movement which projects the sounds of a fiery tarantella with jazz rhythms.

It’s a fun piece to hear and a fun piece to play. It’s also quite adventuresome, considering the instrumentation. It’s not a surprise, though, that Larsen succeeded at combining such an interesting idea with an even more unique combination of instruments. This fearless pursuit of all things new is exactly how one achieves a reputation—and legacy – like Larsen’s.

Henri Zagwijn: Van de Jaargetijden (1947)

In order to completely understand the Dutch composer Henri Zagwijn, it’s probably a good idea to have a handle on anthroposophy. No, not anthropology. Anthroposophy.

It’s a discipline based on the teachings of the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner that by definition says “by virtue of a prescribed method of self-discipline, cognitional experience of the spiritual world can be achieved.” In other words, the more disciplined you are, the more spiritual you can become. Because of Zagwijn’s interest in achieving a great spiritual experience, he was a remarkably disciplined man, especially when it came to his other great love—music.

Zagwijn was born in 1878 in Rotterdam, a city and municipality in South Holland situated in the west of the Netherlands. As a composer, he was mostly self-taught. In fact, he barely even played an instrument. Despite his lack of musical training, his disciplined ethos helped him become a well-known composer, producing a number of inspired works for unique chamber music combinations in addition to works for chorus and orchestra. He supplemented his composition career with active participation in early 20th-century Dutch musical life. He helped found the Society of Modern Composers, taught at the Rotterdam Academy of Music, and was also president of the Geneco (Dutch Society of Composers) for several years.

Zagwijn’s devotion to anthroposophy impacted not only his self-education, but also his musical perspective. He generally saw music as a cosmic phenomenon and was greatly vulnerable to where the spiritual world might lead him. He incorporated elements of Impressionism, Expressionism, polytonality and atonality, and obscure rhythms in his work. His experiments were driven by a constant pursuit of new ideas, new emotions and new music.

Van de Jaargetijden, for harp and piano, reflects this perspective in its celestial, free-spirited nature. The piece, which translates to mean “Of the Seasons,” is divided into four movements. The movements—Zomer (“Summer”), Herfst (“Autumn”), Winter (“Winter”) and Lente (“Spring”)—provide an ambitiously optimistic and fresh perspective on the four seasons of the ar. It’s a perspective that is, like Zagwijn’s life, uniquely his.

Jacques Bondon: Le Soleil Multicolore (The Multicolored Sun) (1970)

When most people think about chamber music instrumentation, some of the more popular combinations—string quartets, piano trios and brass quintets—often come to mind. And rightfully so. A good amount of music has been written for these instrumental groups, giving these types of ensembles a good percentage of today’s chamber music stage time.

Flute, viola and harp? Not quite as common. But thanks to Claude Debussy, it’s not as uncommon as you might think. In the early 20th century, the French composer set out to create a set of chamber works for “diverse ensembles.” This flute, viola and harp combination was one of them. From this new endeavor came his 1915 Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp, a composition that is known by many today as Debussy’s penultimate chamber work. The popularity of this piece led to an entire repertoire of music for this musical combination, including Le Soleil Multicolore by another French composer, Jacques Bondon.

Bondon was born in a small French village in 1927, almost 10 years after Debussy passed away. Before devoting himself to music, the free-spirited French native delved into other arts, including drawing and painting. By the time he was 19 years old, though, music had his heart. He moved to Paris, where he studied violin with Andrew Proffit, and learned the language of composition at the Paris Conservatoire. It wasn’t long before his career took off. Before passing away in 2008, Bondon composed nearly 50 instrumental and orchestral works, as well as several works for voice and five operas.

Le Soleil Multicolore was created in 1970, around the middle of Bondon’s celebrated career. This work incorporates many of the compositional ideas Bondon became known for, including impressionistic colors, free-spirited musical thoughts and fresh combinations of tones. Le Soleil Multicolore also gives the performers an opportunity at invigorating, dynamic rhythms, especially in the outer movements, and provides the rest of us with a chance to bask in the sounds of this colorful, yet untraditional, combination of instruments.