Video: That's the Spirit

The 15th Missouri Chamber Music Festival is all about the spirit that moves us

 

On Chuck’s Culture Channel, it’s a chat about musical spirit with pianist Nina Ferrigno, a founding member of the Calyx Piano Trio and the director of the Missouri Chamber Music Festival. This June marks the 15^th anniversary of the festival with four, count ‘em four, concerts at different venues in the St. Louis area.

Links:

Missouri Chamber Music Festival: https://mochambermusic.org
Calyx Piano Trio: https://www.calyxtrio.com/

Symphony Preview: Stereophonic sound and other enhancements.

Akiko Suwanzi
Photo: Kiyotaka Saito

This Friday and Saturday, March 21 and 22, Stéphane Denève returns to conduct the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra (SLSO) in a program titled Bernstein and Williams: Cinematic Visions. That would be Leonard and John, respectively. Therefore, I would like to open this preview with a song:

That number is from the 1957 film version of Cole Porter’s 1955 musical Silk Stockings, which was based on the 1939 non-musical movie Ninotchka. It goes to show that the Broadway/Hollywood barrier has never been all that impermeable.

The song pokes fun at what was, at the time, the cutting-edge technology of stereo sound in cinemas. It was but one of a number of technological changes in movies that included widescreen filming (CinemaScope and its successors) and enhanced color (Technicolor, Metrocolor, etc.). These days, when you can get surround sound and high definition color in your living room, this might all seem a bit quaint, but it was a big deal Back in the Day.

The evening begins and ends with music based on film scores. Kicking things off is the yearning, romantic theme John Williams (b. 1932) composed for the 1996 movie Seven Years in Tibet, featuring a solo cello line that’s deeply infused with Essence of Erhu. Yo-Yo Ma played that in the film soundtrack. This weekend Yo-Yo Ma will be played by the SLSO’s own Yin Xiong.

Up next is the US debut of the 2018 violin concerto Les Horizons Perdus (Lost Horizons) by contemporary French composer Guillaume Connesson (b. 1970). The concerto’s connection to the “Cinematic Visions” concept is a bit tangential since it was inspired by James Hilton’s 1933 novel Lost Horizon rather than Frank Capra’s classic 1937 film or (heaven forfend) the 1973 musical film. Its four movements capture the contrast between the tranquil utopia of Shangri-La and the hectic quotidian world. “More than the illustration of a fanciful narrative,” writes Connesson, “it is this division and radical opposition between the active life and the perfection of the inner life that constitute the basis of my work” (“Plus que d’illustrer une narration Romanesque, c’est ce déchirement et cette opposition radicale entre la vie active et l’absolu de la vie intérieure qui constituent la trame de mon oeuvre”).

The first movement, “Premier voyage,” is a cacophonous and aggressive depiction of that world, with brief lyrical moments reflecting the desire to find a bit of calm amidst the noise

“Shangri-La 1 – Deuxième voyage” (the linked second and third movements) consists of a brief glimpse of the tranquility of the utopian Shangri-La followed by an exuberant dance-cum-chase scene suggesting the brief departure from and return to the Himalayan paradise.

The start of that journey is where the novel ends, leaving it unclear as to whether the protagonist finds his way back to Shangri-La. Connesson leaves no doubt about it with the final movement, “Shangri-La 2” (hence the title change from singular to plural). It’s the mirror image of the first movement—a slow, meditative mix of the sublime and the nostalgic. “At the end,” writes the composer, “a new theme appears for muted violin, which sings with an infinite tenderness of rediscovered ties with childhood” ("À la fin, un nouveau thème apparaît au violon en sourdine, qui chante avec une infinie tendresse les liens retrouvés avec l’enfance").

Denève has expressed his admiration for Connesson’s music and has programmed several of his works in previous seasons. He conducted the Brussels Philharmonic in the world premiere performance with soloist Renaud Capuçon, so between him and this weekend’s soloist—Tchaikovsky Competition winner Akiko Suwanai—the music will be in good hands.

There’s an intermission between the sublime finale of Horizons Perdus and the raucous opening of An American Port of Call by Adolphus Hailstork (b. 1941). Inspired by Norfolk,Virginia—the city he calls home—the title of the work is both a tip of the hat to the suite Escales (Ports of Call) by Jacques Ibert and a portrait of, in the composer’s words, “a bustling American port city.”

But don’t take my word for it. Here’s what Hailstork himself has to say:

To me, An American Port of Call bears more than a passing resemblance to another orchestral work about a bustling port city (or at least an etching of one by Thomas Rowlandson): Portsmouth Point by William Walton (1902–1983). Here, in any case, is the celebrated American conductor JoAnn Faletta and the Virginia Symphony Orchestra delivering a slam-bang performance of An American Port of Call. Enjoy!

The program’s big finish (just before the closing credits, including several thousand digital animators) is the 1955 suite Leonard Bernstein (1918–1990) assembled from his score for the 1954 Oscar-winning crime drama about corrupt labor unions, On the Waterfront. The composer “initially resisted accepting the commission for the score,” writes musicologist William Runyan, due to his “deep antipathy for the director, Elia Kazan.” He was notably outraged at Kazan’s cooperation with Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s anti-leftist witch hunts and his participation in the infamous Hollywood Blacklist, which destroyed many careers and lives.

Not coincidentally, the script was written by Budd Schulberg and starred Lee J. Cobb—both of whom also collaborated with McCarthy.

Bernstein was also less than thrilled about the way his music was treated in the editing process—which is probably why On the Waterfront was his first and last soundtrack.

“And so the composer sits by,” Bernstein wrote in a May 30, 1954, article for the New York Times, “protesting as he can, but ultimately accepting, be it with a heavy heart, the inevitable loss of a good part of the score. Everyone tries to comfort him. ‘You can always use it in a suite.’ Cold comfort. It is good for the picture, he repeats numbly to himself: it is good for the picture.”

The suite has, in any case, been critically praised for the way in which it weaves together themes from the original score into a twenty-minute distillation of the original story. As critic Mark Swed wrote in the Los Angeles Times, Bernstein “wrenched his atmospheric themes into something far grander, a symphonic suite.” Listen to the composer’s own performance with the New York Philharmonic and see if you don’t agree.

And, of course, the full playlist for the concert is available on Spotify.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, along with soloists Yin Xiong (cello) and Akiko Suwanai (violin) in music by John Williams, Guillaume Connesson, Adolphus Hailstork, and Leonard Bernstein. Performances are Friday at 10:30 am and Saturday at 7:30 pm, March 21 and 22, at the Touhill Performing Arts Center. The Saturday evening performance will be broadcast live on St. Louis Public Radio and Classic 107.3 and will be available for streaming late the following week at the SLSO web site

Symphony Preview: Big D

"The Germans," observed the great violinist Joseph Joachim, "have four violin concertos. The greatest, most uncompromising, is Beethoven's." This weekend (Saturday and Sunday, January 24 and 26) James Ehnes joins the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Music Director Stéphane Denève for the Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61, by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827) along with another uncompromising essay in D major, the Symphony No. 1 by Gustav Mahler (1860–1911).

[Preview the music with my Spotify playlist.]

The following comments are adapted from my own writing on both works over the last fifteen years.

Like many of the great 19th century composers, Beethoven wrote only one concerto for the violin, but it’s prime stuff. He was, unfortunately, so tardy in completing it that the soloist at the work's 1806 premiere, Franz Clement (for whom Beethoven had written the piece) had no time to rehearse and might have even been obliged sight read the thorny solo part.

The premiere took place on December 23, 1806, at the Theater an der Wien as part of what Brockway and Weinstock (in the 1967 edition of  "Men of Music") call, with classic understatement, "a singular program":

[The concerto's] first movement was a feature of the opening half of the entertainment, and the second and third movement were given during the second half. Intervening was, among other compositions, a sonata by Franz Clement, played on one string of a violin held upside down.

"Beethoven Letronne" by Blasius Höfel
Licensed under Public Domain
via Wikimedia Common

Needless to say, this sort of cheesy showbiz was not the way the composer intended his work to be performed. Not surprisingly, it was poorly received and didn't begin to enter the standard repertoire until nearly two decades after Beethoven’s death. And that was likely because it was championed by Joachim, who first played it in 1844 (at the age of 12) at a concert in London with Felix Mendelssohn at the podium. Joachim also wrote cadenzas for the work that are still frequently performed.

Now the concerto is recognized as a masterful blend of solo showpiece and symphonic statement, with a substantial first movement that accounts for over half of the concerto's 45-minute running time, a mostly serene second, and a cheerfully flashy third.

There is, interestingly, a rarely heard alternate version of the Violin Concerto. As Michael Rodman writes at Allmusic.com, Beethoven later made a transcription of the concerto for piano and orchestra. He added a long cadenza for the soloist that included the tympani and published it as Op. 61a

The revised concerto was first performed in Vienna in 1807, but despite the occasional high-profile recording like the one Peter Serkin did with Seiji Ozawa and the New Philharmonia in the late 1960s, it remains, as the reviewer of that release notes at Classics Today, "a curio."

Mahler’s Symphony No. 1, first performed in 1889, closes the program in spectacular fashion. Clocking in at just under an hour, the First is probably the most economical of Mahler’s symphonies. It’s also, to paraphrase Anna Russell, a kind of Mahler vitamin pill, combining all the composer’s characteristic gestures in one compact work.

Mahler circa 1889
By E. Bieber - Kohut, Adolph (1900)
Public Domain

It’s all here: the vivid invocation of the natural world, the heaven-storming despair, the macabre humor, the jocular impressions of village bands and sounds that would later be labeled “klezmer,” and  a wildly triumphant finale with a full complement of brass—including an expanded horn section—standing and gloriously blazing away. The subtitle “Titan” that’s often applied to this work may have originally referred to a novel of the same title by Jean-Paul Richter, but I think it’s simply an apt description of this music. Its impact is Titanic in every sense of the word.

As music depicting a journey from darkness to the light, the Mahler First feels very welcome at a time when geopolitical darkness seems to be closing in on us. Its hushed, expectant opening, its birdcalls, and what Chicago Symphony Orchestra program annotator Phillip Huscher calls "the gentle hum of the universe, tuned to A-natural and scattered over seven octaves"—all these things bring to mind a world emerging from darkness into light.

Speaking of that opening sequence: if it sounds familiar that’s because it's remarkably close to the little sequence that underscores the words "Space: the final frontier" in the theme of the classic TV show Star Trek. If you doubt me, take a few minutes to view CBC Radio 2 host Tom Allen's tongue-in-cheek video documentary on the lineage of that theme; it's fascinating stuff. 

And since both ST:TOS and Mahler’s First are fundamentally optimistic, that seems only right.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and soloist James Ehnes in Beethoven’s Violin Concerto and Mahler’s Symphony No. 1. Performances are Saturday at 7:30 pm and Sunday at 3 pm, January 25 and 26, at the Stifel Theatre downtown.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Preview: Reveling in Ravel

This weekend (January 17 and 19) St. Louis Symphony Orchestra Music Director Stéphane Denève returns for a program devoted entirely to a composer I love almost as much as he does: Maurice Ravel (1875–1937). Like Ravel, Denève has studied at the Paris Conservatoire. Unlike the composer (who was expelled), our MD graduated with honors and has gone on to make a name for himself as an exponent of French music in general and Ravel in particular.

[Preview the music with my Spotify playlist.]

I have written extensively about all four of the works on this weekend’s program over the past decade or thereabouts. This week’s preview is based on that earlier material.

Ma mère l'oye
New York City Ballet

The concerts will open with the “Ma mère l'oye (Mother Goose) Suite”, based on a two-piano suite originally written for Mimie and Jean, the two children of Ravel's friend Cipa Godebski, an expatriate Polish artist, and his wife Ida. The kids were supposed to give the work its first performance at the Société Musicale Indépéndantes in 1910, but stage fright got the better of them and two other youngsters got the opportunity.

The work proved popular enough to merit an orchestration in 1911 and later even a full-length ballet, but it's the former that we'll hear this weekend. Inspired by the fairy stories of Charles Perrault as well as anonymous folk sources, the five movements make up a veritable musical toy box brimming with auditory delights.

Denève’s first appearance with the SLSO following his appointment as MD included a transcendent performance of the suite. This is a true showpiece for the orchestra, with lots of opportunities for solo and small ensemble work. I look forward to hearing it in the drier acoustics of the Touhill.

Next, we’ll have both of Ravel’s two piano concertos, beginning with the Concerto in G, written mostly between 1929 and 1932. For the composer, it represented an attempt to improve his own less than stellar skill as a pianist.

Ravel, as Washington University's Hugh Macdonald wrote in program notes for the Los Angeles Philharmonic (link no longer available) was not a virtuoso at the keyboard. “In his public appearances as a concert pianist,” notes Mr. Macdonald, “he had preferred to play easier pieces…. But rather than write a piece within his own capacity, he decided to write a concerto of proper difficulty and simply acquire the technique to play it.” Thus began the long and difficult nativity of the Concerto in G.

That process began as early as 1911 according to Macdonald. That was when Ravel, who had been born in the Basque town of Ciboure, sketched out a “Basque Concerto” based on themes from that region of France.  The project was scrapped, but the second movement would live again—this time with a jazzier flavor—as the notoriously difficult Adagio assai movement of the G major concerto.

Maurice Ravel birthday party, New York City, March 8, 1928
L-R: Oscar Fried, conductor; Eva Gauthier, singer;
Ravel at piano; Manoah Leide-Tedesco, composer-conductor;
and composer George Gershwin

Unfortunately, Ravel’s health was declining, resulting in memory problems and difficulty concentrating. So when it came time for the French premiere of the concerto in January 1932 the solo role went to Marguerite Long, who taught piano at the Paris Conservatoire between 1906 and 1940. And even she found it a challenge.

“It is a difficult work,” she observed in the posthumously published Au Piano avec Maurice Ravel, “especially in respect of the second movement where one has no respite.”

Part of the delay in composing the Concerto in G was the result of the composer setting it aside to work on his Concerto for the Left Hand. Ravel wrote it during 1929 and 1930 for pianist Paul Wittgenstein (the older brother of the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein), who was just at the beginning of what looked like a successful career when World War I broke out. Called up for military service, Wittgenstein was shot in the right elbow during the Battle of Galicia. He was captured by the Russians and sent to a POW camp in Siberia where the injury to his arm proved to be so severe that amputation was necessary.

For the vast majority of pianists, that would be a career-ending event, but Wittgenstein refused to give up. The camp had no piano so, as Dakota White relates at the World War I Centennial web site, Wittgenstein drew the outline of a keyboard on a wooden crate and used it to practice during his confinement. After the war, he was able to use his family's wealth and social connections to commission works for the left hand from leading composers of the day, including Ravel.

Wittgenstein gave the work its premiere on January 5th, 1932, with Robert Heger conducting the Vienna Symphony Orchestra and recorded it in 1937 with the Concertgebouw Orchestra under Bruno Walter. You can hear that performance on YouTube . It’s still worth listening to, despite the dated mono sound.

There's a nocturnal feel to the concerto. There’s a dark bitonal introduction featuring the contrabassoon, flashy cadenzas for the soloist, and a central march/scherzo which, like the Adagio assai in the G major concerto, shows the composer’s fascination with jazz. It feels like Ravel is inviting us to a dance in the graveyard—a celebration of renewed life in the shadow of the massive death of the "war to end all wars." Ravel served as an ambulance driver in the cataclysm, and I think the horrors he saw influenced many of his post-war works, including this one.

The soloist for both of these very demanding concertos is a frequent visitor to our town, Kirill Gerstein. I last saw him here in October, 2022, when he gave us a disciplined and grandly romantic Concerto No. 2 by Rachmaninoff with Hannu Lintu (another familiar face) at the podium. In addition to his frequent guest appearances with the SLSO, he recorded a Gershwin album with the band for Myrios in 2018, which I would highly recommend. His performances, in my experience, are often a singular mix of strong technique and interpretive creativity.

Ida Rubenstien, 1922
Public Domain

The concerts close with one of the most popular orchestral works ever written and certainly the best-known thing Maurice Ravel ever produced: “Bolero.” Composed originally on commission for the dancer Ida Rubinstein, “Bolero” was first performed by her at the Paris Opéra on 22 November 1928 with choreography by Bronislava Nijinska and designs by Alexandre Benois.

The scenario, as printed in that first program, describes a wild night in a Spanish tavern that gets wilder when a female dancer leaps on to a table as "her steps become more and more animated." The late New York Times music critic Louis Biancolli (quoted in the 1962 edition of Julian Seaman's "Great Orchestral Music: A Treasury of Program Notes") goes into greater detail, describing an increasingly erotic bacchanal, which ends (as the key changes to C major) in a knife-wielding brawl.

Sex and violence always sell, I guess. There are many more fascinating facts to be had about "Boléro," including its sexual subtext. Actor/writer Albert Brooks had some fun with that aspect of the work on his subversively brilliant 1975 LP "A Star is Bought." The original is out of print, sad to say, but the whole thing is available on YouTube.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and pianist Kirill Gerstein in an all-Ravel program Friday at 7:30 pm and Sunday at 3:00 pm, January 17 and 19, in auditorium at the Touhill Center on the University of Missouri–St. Louis campus. The Friday performance will be broadcast Saturday, January 18, at 7:30 pm on St. Louis Public Radio and Classic 107.3 and will also be available for a limited time at the SLSO web site.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Review: A light in the darkness

It might seem counter-intuitive for a concert billed as “A Baroque Christmas” to feature only 20 minutes or so of actual Christmas music, but as far as I’m concerned, the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra concert last Saturday (December 7^th) fully lived up to the spirit of the season.

[Find out more about the music with my symphony preview.]

Patrick Dupre Quigley
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Christmas is, after all, only one of many festivals that owes its existence to the winter solstice. In the northern hemisphere, at least, late December is when we experience the shortest days and the longest nights. Back when nocturnal darkness was absolute and cold could easily kill you, that was reason enough to gather together and celebrate light, warmth, and a sense of community.

Which is exactly what “A Baroque Christmas” brought to the Lee Auditorium at Washington University’s 560 Music Center. Guest conductor Patrick Dupre Quigley led the SLSO in a celebratory night music of Bach, Telemann, Corelli, and Vivaldi guaranteed, in the words of the old carol, “to drive the cold winter away.”

The opening work, the Sinfonia from the second of the six cantatas that make up J.S. Bach’s “Christmas Oratorio,” got off to a slightly ragged start but quickly came together. Both here and in the next piece—the Sonata from Bach’s appropriately titled Cantata “Der Himmel lacht! Die Erde jubilieret” (Heaven laughs! Earth exults)—the double reeds (English horns and oboes d’amore) sounded especially clear and bright. Slightly larger and darker in tone than the standard oboe, the oboe d’amore is rarely heard these days, so it was a pleasure to hear it played so well by Xiomara Mass and Principal Oboe Jelena Dirks.

Alejandro Valdepeñas
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Next was the Concerto grosso in G minor, Op. 6 No. 8 by Arcangelo Corelli (1653 – 1713). It’s known as the “Christmas Concerto” because the first page of the score bears the inscription “Fatto per la notte di Natale” (“made for the night of Christmas”). In pre-performance remarks, Quigley went to some effort to tie some of the six short movements back to the Nativity story, although to my ears the only real connection is the final movement, marked Pastorale (Largo). It’s a gently rocking 12/8 “cradle song” that could easily be a lullaby for “le devin enfant.”

The entire concerto, though, was a wonderful showpiece for the SLSO strings, along with continuo players Andrew Cuneo (Principal Bassoon) and guest keyboardist Mark Shuldiner on harpsichord and portative organ. The organ was an especially welcome addition in the final movement. My only complaint is that the physical setup at the Lee Auditorium made it difficult to hear the give and take between the ripeno (ensemble) strings and the concertino (solo) group of Second Associate Concertmaster Celeste Andrews, Principal Second Violin Alison Harney, and Principal Cello Daniel Lee. Which is a shame since it was all done with superb precision and joy.

There was plenty of precision and joy in the next two works as well—the Viola Concerto in G Major by Georg Phillip Telemann (1681 – 1767) and the Piccolo Concerto in C Major, Op. 44 No. 11, by Antonio Vivaldi (1678 – 1741). You rarely encounter concertos for the former and almost never for the latter.

Ann Choomack
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Indeed, the Vivaldi concerto specifies the solo instrument as a flautino which, back in his day, probably meant a sopranino recorder. In any case, Ann Choomack (the SLSOs primary piccolo player for over a decade) gave us a performance Saturday night of jaw-dropping virtuosity—and without a score, no less. I’m still amazed that she found time to breathe during the aural acrobatics in the score.

Associate Principal Viola Alejandro Valdepeñas played the Telemann concerto with just the right mix of virtuosity and emotional warmth. Both he and Choomack had a nice rapport with Quigley and a fine time was had by all, it seemed to me.

The evening concluded with Bach’s lively Orchestral Suite No. 3, composed around 1730. This ingratiating collection of an Air (often played by itself as the “Air on the G String”) and four dances preceded by a short "French overture" (the name referring to the form's origins in the ballets of Jean Baptiste Lully) was an appropriately cheerful way to end this celebration of light in the darkness. The bright trumpets and tympani the final Gigue sent us out into “the bleak midwinter” (yes, another Christmas carol reference) with a nice shot of holiday warmth.

Seasonal events by the SLSO continue for the rest of December, culminating in the annual New Year’s Eve concert at Stifel Theatre. Visit the SLSO web site for more information.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Preview: 'Tis the season, part 1

The St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s regular concert season traditionally goes on hiatus during December, but that doesn’t mean the orchestra and chorus aren’t kept busy. Far from it, as a quick survey of the coming month’s concerts clearly demonstrates. Let’s take a glance at what’s happening just this week.

Amanda Stewart and Steven Franklin
Photo courtesy of the SLSPO

The festive mood begins on Thursday, December 5, at 7:30 pm as Steven Franklin (Principal Trumpet) and Amanda Stewart (Associate Principal Trombone) curate a program of “Fanfares and Festivals” as part of the “Live at the Sheldon” concert series. Along with eight of their fellow SLSO brass players plus Alan Stewart on percussion, they’ll treat you to five centuries of music for brass and percussion. The oldest music on the program is suite from “The Danserye,” a 1551 collection of 60 toe-tappers by Renaissance composer and publisher Tylman Susato (c. 1510/15–after 1570). The newest is the world premiere of a low brass quintet by Franklin.

The evening promises to deliver a wide variety of sounds as well, from the reverential (Francis Poulenc’s “Four Short Prayers of St. Francis of Assisi”) to the rousing (the selections from Susato’s “The Danserye”). The SLSO has a very solid brass section. This should be a great opportunity to hear them in action in the much-admired Sheldon Concert Hall.

On Friday and Saturday, December 6 and 7, the action moves to the E. Desmond Lee Concert Hall at Washington University’s 560 Music Center for “A Baroque Christmas.” Guest conductor Patrick Dupre Quigley leads the SLSO in music of Bach, Telemann, Corelli, and Vivaldi. Associate Principal viola Alejandro Valdepeñas is the featured soloist in Telemann’s Viola Concerto in G major, while Ann Choomack takes the virtual spotlight in Vivaldi’s Piccolo Concerto in C major, RV 443.

Alejandro Valdepeñas and Ann Choomack
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Bach is well represented with Sinfonia from the second of the six cantatas that make up his “Christmas Oratorio” along with the Sonata from his appropriately titled Cantata BWV 31, “Der Himmel lacht! Die Erde jubilieret” (Heaven laughs! Earth exults) and the lively Orchestral Suite No. 3 (BWV 1068).

That last one was written for Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen, Bach’s employer from 1717 to 1723. The Prince was fond of dance music, so the suite was also likely a hit with the him. It’s being an appealing collection of dances preceded by a short "French overture" (the name referring to the form's origins in the ballets of Jean Baptiste Lully) with its characteristic majestic opening followed by a lively main section. Bach's mastery of counterpoint gives the music a bit of weight, but even so, the terpsichorean roots of this work are as obvious as they are delightful.

Those roots are especially apparent in the last two movements, the sprightly "Bourée" and "Gigue." The former was a dance that was especially popular at the court of Louis XIV of France, eventually morphing into a classical ballet step known as the pas de bourèe.

Arcangelo Corelli’s contribution is his justifiably popular Concerto grosso in G minor, Op. 6 No. 8. It’s known as the “Christmas Concerto” because the first page of the score bears the inscription “Fatto per la notte di Natale” (“made for the night of Christmas”). Although the twelve concerti grossi of the composer’s Op. 6 weren’t published until after his death, No. 8 was composed in 1690 and played that Christmas for Corelli’s patron and friend Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni.

Celtic Woman
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Check out my Spotify playlist to listen to the complete "Baroque Christmas"  program in advance.

To close out a very musical week, the Irish vocal/instrumental group Celtic Woman brings their “White Christmas Symphony Tour” to the Stifel Center on Sunday, December 8, at 7:00 pm. Lloyd Butler conducts the SLSO in an evening that “combines centuries of Irish musical tradition with the thrill of a full symphonic orchestra, highlighting the artistry of the internationally recognized quartet.”

The group was created in 2004 years ago as a “one off” for a concert in Dublin that was such a hit that it immediately sparked an American tour and an international following. Two decades later, the group’s catalog of CDs, DVDs, and even jewelry is impressive and the popularity of their concerts shows no signs of waning.

But wait—there’s more! And I’ll tell you all about it in next week’s preview. Stay tuned.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Preview: Come together

It’s quite a mixed bag this weekend (October 18 and 19) as guest conductor David Danzmayr makes his third appearance with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra since his notable local debut in 2021. During its relatively brief span (around ninety minutes, including intermission), the band will play works from the 18^th, 19^th, 20^th, and 21^st centuries from England, France, Scotland, and Germany.

[Preview the music with the SLSO's Spotify playlist.]

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, 1905
By Adam Cuerden
Public Domain

The concerts open with the “Ballade” in A minor, Op. 33, by British composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875–1912). Composed in 1897 just after Coleridge-Taylor left the Royal College of Music, the work was commissioned by the Three Choirs Festival, where it met with considerable success. Coleridge-Taylor went on to become a celebrated composer, conductor, and teacher—a career tragically cut short by his death from pneumonia at the age of 37.

The son of Daniel Hugh Taylor, a doctor from Sierra Leone, and Alice Hare Martin, an Englishwoman, Coleridge-Taylor (as Stephen Banfield and Jeremy Dibble write in Grove Online) “saw it as his mission in life to help establish the dignity of the black man.” The black American poet Paul Lawrence Dunbar was an especially strong influence in this regard, helping the composer become more aware of his heritage. That led to works such as “African Romances (1897),” the “African Suite” (1898), and “Toussaint l'ouverture (1901),” described as “a musical illustration of the 18th-century slave who led the liberation of Haiti.”

All that was still to come, though, when he wrote the “Ballade.” The title might suggest something soft and dreamy, but the music itself is dramatic and exceptionally attractive. The opening theme, marked Allegro energico, ma non troppo presto, is played by the strings over agitated trills in the woodwinds. It gets developed and expanded a bit before giving way to the contrasting second theme, moderato ma con passione. Both themes get a fairly conventional sonata form treatment, complete with abbreviated development and recapitulation sections, before winding up with a slam-bang coda (Piu presto. Con fuoco.).

On the whole, the “Ballade” is a bit reminiscent of Grieg’s Symphony No. 1 from 1863, although since Grieg suppressed it, I don’t think it’s likely that Coleridge-Taylor would have been familiar with that work. “Ballade” should get things off to a rousing start, in any event.

Saint-Saëns in 1900
By Petit, Pierre (1831-1909)
Photographer Restored by
Adam Cuerden

Next, it’s time for the program’s Big Work, the Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, by Camille Saint-Saëns (1835–1921). It’s the most popular of Saint-Saëns's five piano concertos, and when you listen to the recording by Pascal Rogé and the Royal Philharmonic under Charles Dutoit on the SLSO Spotify playlist you’ll understand why.

Like the Coleridge-Taylor “Ballade,” the concerto starts big and bold, Andante sostenuto, with a flashy solo keyboard fantasia of the sort that Bach might have written followed by an equally dramatic entrance by the full orchestra. The second movement, Allo scherzando, trips along merrily and sparkles like Champagne. The Presto tarantella finale provides a real workout for the soloist. Done well, the concerto is always a crowd pleaser and likely to induce standing ovations.

This week's soloist, Conrad Tao, played the Second Concerto here in 2014, with Conductor Laureate Leonard Slatkin at the podium.  Back then I called his performance “a model of power and delicacy.”  At the time, Tao was only 20 and just getting started on what has proven to be a spectacular career as a pianist and composer, so it will be interesting to see whether or not that intervening decade has changed his approach to this work. Oh yeah: he’s also a fellow Midwesterner, born in Urbana, Illinois in 1994.

The second half of the program begins at the other end of the sonic spectrum from the big, outgoing romanticism of Coleridge-Taylor and Saint-Saëns. Scottish composer Sir James MacMillan (b. 1953) wrote his evanescent orchestral miniature “One” in 2012 for the 20^th anniversary of The Britten Sinfonia, an innovative chamber ensemble the aim of which was “pushing the boundaries of what a chamber orchestra can do.” It’s dedicated to the Sinfonia’s then-Artistic Director David Butcher (now CEO of the legendary Hallé Orchestra).

Sir James MacMillan
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Best known for "Veni, Veni, Emmanuel," his 1992 percussion concerto closely identified with the celebrated deaf percussionist Evelyn Glennie, MacMillan is solidly opposed to the academic abstraction that often made audiences react to the phrase “contemporary music” the way Dracula reacted to garlic. Specifically, MacMillan disdains composers who are “deeply suspicious of any significant move towards tonality, any hint of pulse that is actually discernible, and any music which communicates successfully with a non-specialist audience.”

There is certainly nothing dry or obscure in “One,” which evokes a universe of ethereal beauty with impressively minimal resources. The title refers, I believe, to the fact that MacMillan’s orchestration creates the illusion of single voices engaging in a kind of bucolic “call and response” over a vast outdoor space. In reality, each “voice” consists of multiple instruments playing together. “I pluribus unum” (“from many, one”), if you will. The Celtic-inspired melody starts, stops, then starts again with different instrumental combinations.

“One” concludes with the melody played pianissimo at the very top of their registers by the flutes and violins, then rapidly descending through the orchestra to land in bassoons and basses playing at the bottom of theirs. There’s a last one-measure rest followed by a brief section marked tutti: misterioso that includes flutter-tongued clarinets and trumpets along with ad lib pizzicatos in the violins (“Not together. Each player to enter in rapid succession, starting with section principal”). “One” ends with an ambiguously dissonant pianissimo chord from the full ensemble.

My description hardly does it justice, but fortunately you can hear an authoritative 2014 performance by the Britten Sinfonia conducted by the composer in the SLSO playlist. If you read music, you can watch that same recording synchronized with the score on YouTube.

Finally, it’s back to the familiar with the Symphony No. 5 (“Reformation”) by Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847). The symphony’s nickname (which came from the composer’s sister Fanny) refers to the fact that it was originally intended for a celebration of the 300th anniversary of the presentation of the Augsburg Confession to Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. The document is a cornerstone of the Lutheran faith, and the celebration in Berlin on June 25th, 1830, was a Very Big Deal, backed up by the Prussian King Frederick William III. Having a new symphony played as part of the festivities would have been a major coup for the 21-year-old composer.

Portrait of Mendelssohn by
James Warren Childe, 1839
en.wikipedia.org

Mendelssohn started work on the symphony in January of 1830 but was sidetracked by a case of measles—a serious business in those days before vaccines. The composer made a full recovery, but not in time to submit the work for the big event. He finally conducted the premiere in Berlin in 1832, but reviews were unenthusiastic and the composer himself ultimately turned against it, declaring the only one of his compositions he “would most like to see burnt.”

History’s verdict has been a bit kinder. “Happily for us,” writes the anonymous program annotator at the Los Angeles Philharmonic, “the ‘Reformation’ Symphony has survived, and it can give great satisfaction as a four-movement symphony with or without its references to the great events it was intended to celebrate.”  It might not be quite as popular as the “Italian” or “Scotch” symphonies, but it probably deserves to be. It has much to offer, as you can hear in the excellent recording by John Eliot Gardiner and the London Symphony on the SLSO playlist.

The Essentials: David Danzmayr conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and pianist Conrad Tao in Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s “Ballade,” Saint-Saëns’s Piano Concerto No. 2, James MacMillan’s “One,” and Mendelssohn’s Symphony No. 5 (“Reformation”). Performances are Friday and Saturday at 7:30 pm, October 18 and 19, at the Touhill Performing Arts Center on the University of Missouri–St. Louis campus. The Saturday night performance will be broadcast live on St. Louis Public Radio and Classic 107.3 and will be available afterwards for streaming on the SLSO web site

Symphony Review: Yo Yo Ma and Stéphane Denève celebrate Elgar and Debussy

While it might seem superfluous to review the concert that was part of last Friday’s (May 3) annual St. Louis Symphony Orchestra fund-raising gala, it was such a great experience that a few words are perhaps in order.

These full-evening galas typically feature an appearance by a superstar performer and this one was no exception. World-renowned cellist and activist Yo-Yo Ma was the soloist for the Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85, by Edward Elgar (1857–1934). First performed in 1919, it’s a spare and, with the exception of the third movement, unsentimental work. There’s little of the kind of expansive late Romantic sound that audiences had come to expect from the composer of the “Enigma Variations” or the concert overtures “Cockaigne” and “In the South.” Poorly performed by an under-rehearsed London Symphony, the concerto got a cool reception and was not repeated in London for over a year.

Yo Yo Ma

At first blush, it seemed an odd choice for a basically celebratory evening, but Ma’s performance was so breathtakingly stellar that the wisdom of that decision quickly became clear. Ma’s sound was uniformly full and robust throughout its range, with even the faintest harmonics emerging with impressive clarity. Maestro Stéphane Denève’s introduction of Ma referred to “the diamond of his sound,” which sounds like hyperbole but was, in fact, completely accurate.

Coupled with his visible emotional commitment to the music and his close communication with both Denève and the orchestra, that sound resulted in a reading of hypnotic intensity. I have never been a great admirer of the Elgar concerto in the past, but Yo-Yo Ma and Stéphane Denève made me a believer last Friday night.

Better yet, the Elgar was preceded by a splendid performance of the popular “La Mer,” written in 1904 by Claude Debussy (1862–1918).  I missed Denève’s last performance of this in 2019, so it was an immense pleasure to see and hear it this time around. His ability to bring out the smallest orchestral details without ever losing sight of the dramatic sweep of Debussy’s brilliant musical canvas reminded me once again that when he conducts, you will hear everything. That includes elements of the music that you might never have noticed before, even if it’s a piece like “La Mer” that has become an audience favorite over the last century.

As Yo-Yo Ma pointed out while introducing his encore Friday night, one of the great things about the SLSO is that “everybody is listening…everybody cares.”

Ma went on to announce that the encore was the 1939 arrangement of the Catalan folk song “El Cant dels Ocells” (“The Song of the Birds”)—an arrangement that Casals made when he left fascist Spain, announcing that he would not play there again until Franco and his autocratic regime were gone and democracy was restored. Casals began each of his concerts with that song from then on.

It was, as Ma reminded us, Casals’ plea for peace and democracy.  The relevance to contemporary events is, I think, readily apparent.  As Ma wrote in 2018, “music, like all of culture, helps us to understand our environment, each other, and ourselves. Culture helps us to imagine a better future. Culture helps turn 'them' into 'us.' And these things have never been more important.”

The current SLSO season is officially over but post-season events continue through June, beginning Saturday, May 11 at 7:00 pm, as George Daugherty conducts the orchestra for “Bugs Bunny at the Symphony.”

I last saw this program back in 2011 and found it to be great fun. It has since been updated to include five new ’toons. The important thing is that it still includes “What’s Opera, Doc?,” “The Rabbit of Seville,” “Corny Concerto,” “Baton Bunny,” and “Long-Haired Hare.” That, all by itself, is enough to recommend it.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Preview: Shall we dance?

“Invitation to the Dance” (“Aufforderung zum Tanz”), Op. 65, is one of the more popular pieces by Carl Maria von Weber, especially in its 1841 orchestration by Hector Berlioz. It’s also a good description of the concerts Stéphane Denève and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra (SLSO) will perform this weekend (Saturday and Sunday, March 16 and 17).

[Preview the music with the SLSO's Spotify playlist.]

Adam Schoenberg
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

The program consists of only two works: “Picture Studies,” a 2011 suite by Adam Schoenberg (b. 1980), and Music Director Stéphane Denève’s compilation of music from the three concert suites Sergei Prokofiev (1891–1953) assembled from his ballet “Romeo and Juliet.”

The Schoenberg work was the result of a commission by the Kansas City Symphony and the Nelson-Atkins Museum to write a 21st-century version of “Pictures at an Exhibition” by Modest Mussorgsky (1839–1881), which in its 1922 orchestration by Maurice Ravel has become a staple of the symphonic repertoire.

Mussorgsky’s suite was based on a collection of works by a single artist, the composer’s friend Viktor Hartmann. Schoenberg’s work is a collection of musical invocations of works by by eight different artists (four paintings, three photographs, and one sculpture). The only common thread is that they were all on display at the Nelson-Atkins Museum. “My main objective,” says Schoenberg in this week’s program notes, “was to create an architectural structure that connected each movement to the next while creating an overall arc for the entire piece.”

Those program notes include not only extensive quotes from the composer but also an interview with choreographer Kervin Douthit-Boyd, whose Big Muddy Dance Company will perform the world premiere of the SLSO-commissioned ballet Douthit-Boyd created for Schoenberg’s music. So rather than write any more about his project myself, I will simply refer you to those notes.

I will, however, make one recommendation: as you read Schoenberg’s commentary of the suite, listen to its world premiere recording by Michael Stern and the Kansas City Symphony Orchestra on the SLSO’s Spotify playlist. Granted, this music is so approachable that an advance listen isn’t really necessary, but reading Schoenberg’s thoughts as you experience his music adds a great deal to the experience.

One more thing that will enhance that experience is seeing the art that inspired “Picture Studies.” Here are the links to the works in question, along with their corresponding movements. I have excluded movements I (Intro) and VIII (Interlude) since those are statements of what Schoenberg calls a “Ghost-like piano theme” that’s a nod to the recurring “Promenade” motif in Mussorgsky’s “Pictures”.

Kirven Douthit-Boyd
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

II. Three Pierrots: Die Drei Pierrots Nr. 2, a painting by Albert Bloch 1882–1961.
III. Repetition: Repetition, a photograph by Kurt Baasch (1891–1964).
IV. Olive Orchard: The Olive Orchard, a painting by Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890).
V. Kandinsky: Rose with Gray, a painting by Wassily Kandinsky (1866–1944)
VI. Calder’s World: Untitled, 1937,  a mobile sculpture by Alexander Calder (1898–1976). There’s more than one Calder mobile labeled Untitled, 1937, but based on Schoenberg’s description I think this is the right one. The Nelson-Atkins Gallery, on the other hand, has Untitled, 1936, so the year must might be wrong.
VII. Miró: Women at Sunrise, a painting by Joan Miró (1893–1983).
IX. Cliffs of Moher: Atlantic Ocean, Cliffs of Moher, a photograph by Hiroshi Sugimoto  (b. 1848). This and the last movement are played without pause after movement VIII.
X. Pigeons in Flight: Pigeons in Flight, a photograph by Francis Blake (1850–1913).

After intermission it’s back to the ballet. This time, though, the dancing will have to be imaginary since we’ll be hearing a good 40 minutes of music from Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet” suites. The ballet and the suites are quite popular today, but the story of their creation is not a particularly happy one.

Prokofiev emigrated to the West in 1918, first to the USA and then to Europe. In 1936 he was lured back to the Soviet Union with what proved to be false promises of personal and artistic freedom. At first he was allowed to retain his passport and make appearances abroad, including an American tour in 1938. But then, as Dorothea Redepenning wrote in a 2001 article for Grove Online, “the trap snapped shut: he was asked to hand in his passport for the transaction of a formality, but did not get it back, so that there could be no question of further tours abroad.”

With the closing of the trap came the imposition of censorship. Although Prokofiev had completed the score for “Romeo and Juliet” in 1936, he soon found obstacles in the path to an actual performance. And there was also the matter of the ending.

When he began work on “Romeo and Juliet” in 1935, Prokofiev had decided to give the ballet a happy ending, and his score reflected that decision. As the composer dryly noted, "living people can dance, the dead cannot". And, as Alice Jones wrote in a 2008 article for The Independent, there was also “the little-known fact of Prokofiev's deeply held Christian Science beliefs, according to which death does not exist. In Prokofiev's vision, the love of Romeo and Juliet is infinite, transcending all earthly boundaries and existing in a paradise-like realm.” Stalin’s censors disagreed, and “Romeo and Juliet” didn’t get an officially approved Bolshoi production until 1946—and then only on the condition that Prokofiev cut the 20 minutes of “happy ending” music he had originally composed and end the ballet with the death of Romeo and  Juliet.

Prokofiev in 1918
en.wikipedia.org

The original “happy ending” version of the ballet was rediscovered and performed at the Bard Summerscape festival outside New York in 2008, but the Stalin-approved version is still the one most often performed today.

As noted above, the “Romeo and Juliet” suites have been popular with audiences. But as Joshua Barone wrote in a 2018 New York Times article, “the suites, which are structured more like symphonies than tone poems, can be unsatisfying for conductors.” That includes Maestro Denève.

“I wish I could call Prokofiev and ask him what is the exact purpose of his three suites,” Mr. Denève said in an interview for the article. “With all my respect, of course, for Prokofiev, I can’t understand his logic.”

When the SLSO performed music from the “Romeo and Juliet” suites in 2016  guest conductor Gilbert Varga was on the podium with seven movements selected to mirror the dramatic arc of both Shakespeare’s play and the revised ballet. Stéphane Denève is doing essentially the same thing this weekend but—based on the number and order of the selections—in somewhat greater depth. You can see a more detailed breakdown in the program notes or just listen to the selections in the Spotify playlist.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra in Adam Schoenberg’s “Picture Studies” and selections from the ballet “Romeo and Juliet” by Prokofiev. “Picture Studies” will be accompanied by an SLSO-commissioned ballet performed by the Big Muddy Dance Company with choreography by Kervin Douthit-Boyd. Performances are Saturday at 7:30 pm and Sunday at 3 pm, March 16 and 17, at the Sifel Theatre downtown.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Preview: Nights and days at the opera

Summer is usually opera season here in St. Louis but this Sunday (March 3) Stéphane Denève and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra get a jump on it with “Operatic Favorites.” It’s a collection of overtures, intermezzos, and other orchestral bonbons from operas by everyone from Claudio Monteverdi (1567–1643) to Giacomo Puccini (1858–1924). And tickets are going fast.

[Preview the music with the SLSO's Spotify playlist.]

Here's what’s on the bill of fare.

The “Toccata” that opens Monteverdi’s 1607 “L’Orfeo” is first. It’s essentially three fanfares that serve to introduce the character of La Musica (the spirit of music). She delivers a brief prologue that sets up the story, introduces Orfeo, and concludes with a poetic request for silence as the tale unfolds.  Members of the SLSO haven’t performed this since Opera Theatre presented the opera back in 1997, so a return is long overdue.

Aubrey Allicock and Monica Dewey in
The Marriage of Figaro at Opera Theatre
Photo by Eric Woolsey

Next, it’s the overture to “The Marriage of Figaro” by Wolfgang Mozart (1756–1791). It’s a lively piece that sets the musical stage very effectively for the comic scenes that open this opera, which is based on the second of the three “Figaro” comedies by the multi-talented playwright Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais (1732–1799).  

Next up is the overture to the most popular operatic version of the first “Figaro” play, “The Barber of Seville,” by Gioachino Rossini (1793–1868).  It’s lively stuff as well, even if it was made up of recycled material from two earlier operas, “Aureliano in Palmira” and “Elizabeth, Queen of England.” Of course, I can’t hear the overture these days without thinking of the classic Bugs Bunny cartoon “The Rabbit of Seville,” but maybe that’s just me.

Zoya Gramagin, Taylor P. Comstock in
Manon Lescaut at Winter Opera
Photo: ProPhotoSTL

The mood turns more dramatic with the next two selections: the “Intermezzo” from “Manon Lescaut” by Giacomo Puccini (1858–1924) and the great bel canto aria “Casta diva” (“Chaste goddess”) from “Norma” by Vincenzo Bellini (1801–1835). The former is a musical picture of the journey of Manon to the grim prison at Le Havre, where she and other courtesans are scheduled for exile in New Orleans. The latter is a plea to the moon goddess for peace by the druid priestess Norma.

Christine Lyons as Norma in
Norma at Winter Opera
Photo: Convergence Media

Sunday, the role of Norma will be played not by a soprano but instead by the instrument of Associate Principal Cellist Melissa Brooks. I’m guessing it’s the arrangement by conductor Mathieu Herzog since that’s the one that shows up most often on YouTube, but it should be in good hands in any case.

Amilcare Ponchielli (1834–1886) was an influential and popular composer in his time, but today his 1876 drama “La Gioconda” is the only one of his operas that’s still performed, and then only at big houses with deep pockets because of its many large and elaborate sets. Most of us know it by the ballet sequence we’ll hear on Sunday, the “Dance of the Hours.” This has been so successfully parodied—first by Walt Disney and then by Alan Sherman—that it might be hard to listen to it without a chuckle, but let’s all do our best, shall we?

The second half of the concert opens with another overture, this time to the 1866 opéra comique (i.e., there’s a happy ending) “Mignon” by Ambroise Thomas (1811–1896). His operas aren’t performed often these days, but the tuneful overture to “Mignon” frequently shows up in recorded collections of overtures and, of course, on programs like this one.

The cast of Carmen
Opera Theatre
Photo: Eric Woolsey

Neither George Bizet (1838–1875) nor his opera “Carmen” need an introduction. Nor, for that matter, does “Les Toréadors” from the first of the two orchestral suites that Bizet’s friend Ernest Guiraud assembled from the score. We’ll hear it this Sunday just before another work derived from Bizet’s opera that does merit a few comments: the 1883 “Carmen Fantasy” for violin and orchestra by the Spanish violinist/composer Pablo de Sarasate.

Sarasate’s skill was legendary, and this mini-concerto bristles with technical challenges, including an elaborately ornamented version of the famous “Habanera” and the insanely fast finale, based on the Act II “Danse bohème.” The last time the SLSO presented the “Carmen Fantasy” Assistant Concertmaster Erin Schreiber blew everyone away with her performance, so it’s good to see that she’ll be the soloist once again.

Finally, we close with two heaping scoops of Jacques Offenbach (1819–1880): the “Barcarolle” from his “Les contes Hoffmann” (“The Tales of Hoffman,” left unfinished at his death) and the “Galop infernal” (a.k.a. “The Can-Can”) from his first hit “Orfée aux enfers” (“Orpheus in the Underworld”) from 1858.

Yes, we have come full circle to the tale of Orpheus. But since it’s an opéra buffon (a comic opera) the myth is played for laughs. In this version, Orpheus is a violin teacher who is more than happy to be rid of his irritating wife Eurydice and has to be bullied into getting her back from Pluto. Jupiter gets involved, lightning bolts are thrown, everybody dances the Can-Can, and all ends happily.

L-R: Anthony Webb as Pittichinaccio,
Brooklyn Snow as Giulietta, and
Emma Sorenson as Nicklausse in
Les contes d'Hoffmann at Union Avenue Opera
Photo by Ron Lindsey

In 1938, French composer/conductor Manuel Rosenthal (1904–2003) assembled some of Offenbach’s Greatest Hits into “Gaîte Parisienne,” a ballet for choreographer Léonide Massine and the Ballet Russe de Monte-Carlo. This, too, has proved to be boffo both on the stage and on recordings.

The final scene of the ballet combines a brief appearance of the “Galop” along with a longer version of the “Barcarolle.” The program notes suggest that this is what we’ll be hearing Sunday, in which case you might as well check out Rosenthal’s own 1977 recording on Spotify with the Orchestre de L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo for a sneak listen.

That said, nothing on this Sunday’s program requires anything in the way of preparation. Even if you know nothing about opera, this is the kind of music that’s designed to send you off with a shine on your shoes and a melody in your heart, as the old song goes.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra along with soloists Erin Schreiber (violin) and Melissa Brooks (cello) in a program of orchestral opera selections. The performance takes place at 3 pm on Sunday, March 3 at the Touhill Performing Arts Center on the University of Missouri–St. Louis campus.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.