California State University, Northridge
and the
Mike Curb College of Arts, Media, and Communication
Department of Music
present
Under the Direction of Professor Michael Ferril
Ben Thomason, Violin
with
Landon Baumgard, Piano
Saturday, March 29, 2014, 7:30 PM
Cypress Recital Hall
In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Master of Music in Violin Performance
Program
Fisherman’s Song
ChenYi 陈怡
(b. 1953)
Sonata No. 3 in C Major for Violin Solo, BWV 1005
J.S. Bach
Adagio
(1685– 1750)
Fuga
Largo
Allegro assai
Intermission
Poème
Ernest Chausson
(1855 – 1899)
Sonata in G Minor “The Devil’s Trill”
Larghetto
Allegro energico
Grave – Allegro assai
Giuseppe Tartini
(1692– 1770)
Please silence all devices – no flash photography
Ben is a recipient of the Samuel Goldberg Honors String Quartet
Scholarship for the ’12-’13 and ’13-’14 school years.
You are invited to a reception after the recital in Room 101.
On Listening to Classical Music
All art is difficult to grasp beyond a surface layer. The
extended length and relative complexity of most pieces of
classical music create a barrier to comprehension, leaving many
feeling lost and helpless as the notes and emotions rush past.
Often, those unfamiliar with what they are listening to are still
able to enjoy classical music by simply soaking in the wash of
sound; some close their eyes and allow visions to take them
trance-like into an alternate reality.
The ultimate goal of music is indeed to transport us, but
something of greater power is available to those who invest their
presence. I ask you to fight against the urge to be enchanted, to
dull your senses. Rather, participate with me in active musicmaking, opening your hearts to deeper possibilities. As the
melodies and harmonies unfold from each instant to the next, ask:
“Where is the music taking us – with what movement and
direction is it guiding our thoughts, feelings, and souls?” It is my
purpose tonight to uncover through music a shared experience of
things hidden from our human abilities to express or perceive: an
encounter with something beyond ourselves.
Enjoy the concert,
Fisherman’s Song by Chen Yi
Chen Yi is renowned for her masterful combination of Chinese
and Western musical idioms. Fisherman’s Song was composed in
1980 during her time as a student at Beijing’s Central
Conservatory of Music, where she was the first Chinese woman to
earn a Master’s Degree in Composition. The rich and lyrical
opening melody gives way to a middle section of folk-dance-like
excitement and soaring jubilation. The energy gradually recedes
again as the original melody returns in the piano, transformed at
first by the spirited atmosphere, but soon regaining its former calm
as the song winds to a close.
Sonata No. 3 for Solo Violin by J.S. Bach
Before Bach completed his book of music for solo violin
around 1720, it was unusual for an instrument to perform without
accompaniment. It was generally assumed that at least a
harpsichord and cello were necessary for harmonic and rhythmic
support. In writing for solo violin, the four strings and one bow
must provide the melody, harmonic underpinnings, and rhythmic
drive – simultaneously. The invention and expressiveness of
Bach’s music paired with his ingenious, technical weaving
together of multiple parts create an immense challenge for
violinists. As such, Bach’s music for solo violin is foundational to
the present canon of violin literature.
Bach divided his compositions for solo violin between three
Partitas, using the secular dance idioms of the Baroque era, and
three Sonatas, which exhibit a formal, abstract style and share a
similar organization of four movements: slow, fugue, slow, and
fast. In Sonata No. 3, the opening of the Adagio, dominated by an
insistent dotted rhythm, quickly grows from a single-note melody
into a four-part texture. The movement consists of two sections:
the first struggles unsuccessfully to break free of the lopsided
rhythm, while the second half succumbs to its unrelenting force,
allowing the current to carry the melody much farther than before.
The final cadence is followed by a codetta, leading the closing
harmony of the Adagio directly to the opening key of the Fuga.
Fugue – Bach uses the Italian term Fuga to title this movement
– is a strict process of developing a musical theme. The theme is
stated by several “voices” – in this case four, one for each string
of the violin – each imitating the last and then receding into the
background to provide commentary and harmonic support to the
next voice’s statement. After being presented in its basic form in
every voice, the theme may be subjected to various
transformations – several statements at once, or upside-down, or
backwards, etc. The effect is much the same as a topic of
conversation being passed around a discussion. After this section
of “exposition” of the theme, the music may continue into more
free-flowing and improvisatory passages known as “episodes.”
While Bach wrote many dozens of fugues for keyboard
instruments, this Fuga is notable for several reasons. Not only is
the theme quite long, it is worked out in virtually every
combination possible on the violin, resulting in a fugue of
exceptional length: four long expositions in alternation with three
episodes – two of which also contain thinly veiled statements of
the theme. In terms of organization, it is a unique example of a “da
capo” fugue, in which the first exposition returns as the final
exposition, almost verbatim. As for the material itself: a devout
Lutheran, Bach frequently used melodies from church music as
components of his abstract compositions, and thus the theme of
this fugue is based on the hymn “Komm, heiliger Geist, Herre
Gott” – roughly, “Come, Holy Spirit, Lord God.” Another unique
aspect of this fugue is its “counter-theme” – a descending
chromatic scale – which the first voice introduces immediately as
the second voice takes up the main theme. Counter-themes are
relatively rare in fugue due to the challenges they pose for
composers – once introduced, it is present for every subsequent
statement of the main theme.
After the very long and complex fugue, the Largo is a breath
of fresh air, having the essence of a song without words. It is
similar to the opening Adagio in form – two halves, of which the
second explores a larger scope and is followed by a codetta. The
final movement, Allegro assai, is a brilliant sprint. Also a binary
form, the first half in this movement comes to a complete stop and
is repeated, contrasting with the smooth transitions between
sections of the Adagio and Largo. The grander expanse of the
second half plays with extended motives from the first before
emerging into the high range of the violin with a triumphant burst
on the way to the conclusion of the Sonata.
Poème by Ernest Chausson
Poème, written in 1896, was originally given the title Le
Chant de l’amour triomphant – The Song of Love Triumphant –
though this was later changed by Chausson in favor of Poème.
This initial marking links the piece directly to a short story of the
same title written in 1881 by a close friend of Chausson’s, the
Russian author Ivan Turgenev. The story, describing a mystical
and sensual love triangle induced by a passionate violin
performance, is likely based in reality as well: Turgenev himself
harbored a lifelong obsession with the composer and singer
Pauline Viardot; furthermore, their mutual friend, composer
Gabriel Faure, also suffered unrequited love at the hand of
Pauline’s daughter Marianne Viardot. Turgenev, the Viardots, and
Faure often socialized in Chausson’s Paris salon, along with the
composers Cesar Franck and Claude Debussy; a distinguished
gathering of artists whose work, philosophies, and personal lives
often influenced each other.
Parallels in the dramatic arcs of Poème and The Song of Love
Triumphant may certainly be found, though it is clear that
Chausson’s final intention was to write music which stood on its
own merit, requiring and following no other associations. Poème’s
dedicatee, the renowned violinist Eugène Ysaÿe, participated in its
composition to such an extent that Chausson referred to it as “myyour Poème” in a letter to him. Chausson’s lack of another
enduringly significant piece of music may stem from his selfimposed perfectionism, which led him to destroy most of his own
manuscripts.
As with any poem, description of the work fails to capture its
essence. The only fair approach is to allow the music to grip us.
However, an overview may help in following the flow of the
music. The piece adheres to no established form: after the scene is
set by a melancholy introduction, the violin states Poème’s
expressive melody, first in austere lucidity, then again obscured by
increasing, swirling fervor. As the waves of emotion begin
rippling in the accompaniment, the violin enters soaring with
sensuous beauty. Slowly developing tension finally snaps,
throwing us into a searching turmoil. Soon we are released into a
glorious height of ecstasy, only to float quickly down into
solemnity and meditation. We begin the return journey with sweet
melodies again, but must pass through even greater cataclysms
before arriving back at the original passionate melody, glimmering
in a final, fading twilight.
Sonata in G Minor “The Devil’s Trill” by Giuseppe Tartini
Various secondary sources relate a popular legend regarding
the composition of the “Devil’s Trill” Sonata, though its absolute
veracity is not confirmed. The story goes that in 1713, Tartini,
an Italian virtuoso, dreamt of making a deal with the devil. In the
dream the devil, among other acts of service, played violin for him
with startling techniques and otherworldly effects. Upon
awakening, Tartini hastened to write down the music he had heard
in all its devilish ingenuity and virtuosity.
There is some truth to the idea that this music is particularly
inspired; it is the only one of dozens of sonatas and concertos for
violin composed by Tartini to have attained a lasting place in the
canon of violin repertoire, perhaps due in large part to its extended
use of the markedly challenging and rare double-stop trills. The
piece has undergone many alterations since its composition, being
subjected to editing in no less than nine different versions by
violinists of the 19th and early 20th centuries. The most significant
change is certainly the tradition of playing the Baroque
composition with a Romantic style, leading to differing opinions
regarding the location, number, and intensity of the trills and
ornamentations.
The introductory Larghetto opens the piece with two unsettled,
lilting sections. In the Allegro energico, small trills begin to
permeate the texture as the music jolts forward into two passages
of constantly shifting and restless motion. In the third section, the
music balances three times between periods of solemn gravitas
and displays of virtuosic frenzy, including the “Devil’s Trill”
passages. Finally the violin abandons all reason to traverse an
extended cadenza of double-stop trills, coming to an ending only
as the mania has expended everything the music has to offer.
Acknowledgements
Innumerable thanks are due to all who helped push me this far.
To Jesus and my beloved wife Erin, for their unconditional love
and continual invitation to growth. To Professor Michael Ferril,
my incredible teacher and mentor, and Professors Diane Roscetti
and David Aks, my faculty committee. To my family, thank you
for your constant support: Mom, Dad, Eliza, Mary & Rod, Brenna,
everyone! Thanks to my students for helping me to remember the
joy of discovery, and to my classmates at CSUN for your drive to
make compelling music. Soli Deo Gloria!