Program Notes: October 8, 2006
Shostakovich's Ninth Symphony (1945) "should" have been a large-scale work, perhaps even with chorus. The signs were all there: the end of the Second World War needed commemoration, the buildup of his previous two symphonies indicated an emphatic ascension toward greater profundity, and Shostakovich's own comments had fed expectations along these lines. And then there was the mystical aura of the number nine, which had haunted symphonists since Beethoven. Yet, instead, Shostakovich not only resorts to comedy, but also provides what seems to be a direct parody of what the symphony "should" have been. Thus, a brisk first movement, the most outwardly traditional of his entire output, includes a military topic in the second theme--which one might suppose to be related to the devastation of the past war, were it not for the pervasive tone of parody. The second and fourth movements do indeed include passages of intense mourning, yet exaggerated (as is typical of Shostakovich) to the point of making one wonder if these, too, aren't intended to be parodic. The third movement indulges in a "Spanish" flavor, a frequent resource of Russian nationalists, but here hemmed in by the grotesquerie that dominates the movement. All might have been redeemed by a celebratory finale, but while this one celebrates, it does so mechanically, and with too much laughter, beginning with the shocking conversion of the solo bassoon--which had mourned so eloquently in the fourth movement--into its traditional guise as a clown. While we now delight in the absurdities of this quirky piece, with which we commemorate the 100th anniversary of the composer's birth, neither its first audience nor Stalin were much amused, and many believe that this symphony precipitated the crackdown on Soviet composers launched a few years later.
Mozart probably played his D-minor Concerto for his father, whose 1785 visit to Vienna coincided with one of Mozart's highly successful series of "Academies" (subscription concerts). Indeed, it is easy to find echoes in this work of Mozart's troubled relationship with Leopold, first of all because of the key, which it shares with the Requiem and the "stone guest" music in Don Giovanni (both of which have been related to Mozart's father-issues, as in the 1984 film Amadeus). Even more telling is the relationship of the soloist to the larger group, whose menacing D-minor seems only gradually to awaken the rather dreamy pianist, in one of the most extreme instances of Mozart's dramatic oppositions. If early on the orchestra seems charmed by the alternative posed by the soloist, it gradually asserts its darker vision and, by the finale, has fully recruited the soloist to its viewpoint. This darkest and most dramatic of Mozart's concertos was a favorite of Beethoven, who provided a first-movement cadenza that converts Mozart's modest dreamer into a full-fledged hero.
Dvorák's Carnival Overture (1891) is the middle member of a trilogy that begins with In Nature's Realm and concludes with Othello; the three overtures represent nature, life, and love (in that order). Befitting its position in this grouping, Carnival is full of exuberant life, but also makes a place for episodes of warm quietude. These episodes may betoken either love or death, both of which might be found in the midst of the hubbub of the Carnival, Dvorák's compelling metaphor for life itself.
-- Raymond Knapp
Max Levinson, piano
American pianist Max Levinson is known as an intelligent and sensitive artist with a fearless technique. Levinson's career was launched when he won First Prize at the 1997 Guardian Dublin International Piano Competition, the first American to achieve this distinction. He received overwhelming critical acclaim for his two solo recordings on N2K Encoded Music, and was awarded the prestigious Avery Fisher Career Grant in March 1999. Max Levinson has been hailed by critics for musical maturity beyond his years: "The questioning, conviction, and feeling in his playing invariably reminds us of the deep reasons why music is important to us, why we listen to it, why we care so much about it" (The Boston Globe).
Max Levinson has performed as soloist with the San Francisco Symphony, St. Louis Symphony, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Detroit Symphony Orchestra, New World Symphony, Indianapolis Symphony, Boston Pops, San Antonio Symphony, Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, Louisville Orchestra and American Youth Symphony. He has worked with such conductors as Robert Spano, Neeve Järvi, Uriel Segal, Joseph Swensen, Jeffrey Kahane and Alasdair Neale. Recent recital appearances include Washington Performing Arts Society's "Kreeger String & Hayes Piano Series" at the Kennedy Center, Tonhalle Orchester Zurich's "Competition Winner Series," Ravinia's "Rising Stars," Lincoln Center's "What Makes it Great" and the FleetBank Boston "Emerging Artists Series."
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