The UNCG School of Music has been recognized for years as one of the elite
music institutions in the United States. Fully accredited by the National
Association of Schools of Music since 1938, the School offers the only
comprehensive music program from undergraduate through doctoral study in
both performance and music education in North Carolina. From a total
population of approximately 12,700 university students, the UNCG School of
Music serves over 575 music majors with a full-time faculty and staff of sixty. As
such, the UNCG School of Music ranks among the largest Schools of Music in
the South.
The UNCG School of Music now occupies a new 26 million dollar music building
which is among the finest music facilities in the nation. In fact, the new music
building is the largest academic building on the UNCG Campus. A large music
library with state-of-the-art playback, study and research facilities houses all
music reference materials. Greatly expanded classroom, studio, practice room,
and rehearsal hall spaces are key components of the new structure. Two new
recital halls, a large computer lab, a psychoacoustics lab, electronic music labs,
and recording studio space are additional features of the new facility. In addition,
an enclosed multi-level parking deck adjoins the new music building to serve
students, faculty and concert patrons.
Living in the artistically thriving Greensboro—Winston-Salem—High Point “Triad”
area, students enjoy regular opportunities to attend and perform in concerts
sponsored by such organizations as the Greensboro Symphony Orchestra, the
Greensboro Opera Company, and the Eastern Music Festival. In addition,
UNCG students interact first-hand with some of the world’s major artists who
frequently schedule informal discussions, open rehearsals, and master classes at
UNCG.
Costs of attending public universities in North Carolina, both for in-state and out-of-
state students, represent a truly exceptional value in higher education.
For information regarding music as a major or minor field of study, please write:
Dr. John J. Deal, Dean
UNCG School of Music
P.O. Box 26167
Greensboro, North Carolina 27402-6167
(336) 334-5789
On the Web: www.uncg.edu/mus/
John Salmon
piano
Faculty Recital
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
7:30 pm
Recital Hall, School of Music
Program
Sonata in A Major, D. 959 (1828) Franz Schubert
Allegro (1797-1828)
Andantino
Scherzo: Allegro vivace
Rondo: Allegretto
Intermission
Sonata No. 2 in E Major, Op. 54 (1989) Nikolai Kapustin
Allegro molto (born 1937)
Scherzo: Allegro assai
Largo
Perpetuum mobile: Allegro vivace
_____
The hall is equipped with a listening assistance system.
Patrons needing such assistance should contact an usher in the lobby.
and the clinks of glasses–not my favorite ambience (well, at least not the
cigarette smoke. . .) or musical style. But the movement is totally redeemed by
the entrance of a rhythm section, about two minutes in. I hear Chick Corea and
Maria Schneider–hip voicings and grooves; no polyester suits here. (Does my
admission of non-sympathy for the A sections make me less than an effective
performer of the work? Must an actor like the person he portrays?)
The last movement is a tour de force. Think “hillbilly on steroids” and you’ll have
an image of what happens musically (but don’t spend too much time pondering
that image or the brief, frantically paced piece will leave you in the dust).
Kapustin achieves this breathlessness partially through a meter that is surely the
longest meter in music history: 4/4, 7/8, 4/4, 5/8. The whole piece is put together
from a consistent alternation of these time signatures. The hurried effect–a 4/4
measure followed by a measure with some of the eighth notes deleted–is
brilliantly achieved. I must say that, recently, especially in my old age, I have
more and more days like this phrasing, moments when I run about prestissimo,
followed by an even quicker pace–because the old, quick pace just can’t
accommodate everything I must do or say. Before you tell me to see a therapist
or read a self-help book (haven’t got time! sorry!), just consider that it was that
pace that allowed me to learn the Kapustin Sonata at all. I hope you enjoy!
______
John Salmon, a piano faculty member of the UNCG School
of Music since 1989, has distinguished himself on both sides
of the Atlantic, as both a classical and jazz artist. In the
United States, he has performed for the Dame Myra Hess
Series in Chicago, the Van Cliburn Foundation in Fort Worth,
the Discovery Series in Indianapolis, and for a Busoni Gala
at Symphony Space in New York. In recent years, Salmon
has become increasingly involved with the piano music of
Dave Brubeck. His compact disc John Salmon Plays
Brubeck Piano Compositions (Phoenix 130, released in
1996) was called "brilliant" in a Piano & Keyboard review. Salmon has edited two
volumes of Brubeck piano pieces, Nocturnes and Two-Part Adventures,
published in 1997 and 1999, respectively, by Warner Bros. Salmon also helped
award Dave Brubeck an honorary doctorate in 1994 from Gerhard Mercator
University in Germany, and Dave and Iola Brubeck the "Achievement in the Arts"
award from Northwood University in 1996. Salmon's articles on Brubeck have
appeared in American Music Teacher and the Chronicle of Higher Education.
Program Notes
by John Salmon
On the surface, the two pieces on tonight’s program look similar: two piano
sonatas, in closely related keys, each cast in four traditional sonata movements.
Both have a scherzo. Both use the term “Allegro vivace.” Both provide
compelling evidence for the durability of the genre.
Upon hearing the works however, it won’t take long to notice their different
languages. Schubert writes in the style of both Viennese classicism and an
emerging Romanticism (in an idiom he himself helped to create), evoking the
world of Beethoven, but also pointing toward the drama of Berlioz and Wagner.
His music always seems a blend of tightly ordered development and expansive
musical canvases, of symphonic textures and heartfelt lyricism, of urgent
arguments and dreamy soliloquies. If we were to describe his works as
paintings, we might say that Schubert combines the linear precision of Ingres
with the colorful opulence of Delacroix.
Nikolai Kapustin, born in 1937, had rigorously classical training at the Moscow
Conservatory where he studied piano with Alexander Goldenweisser. He
ingested Prokofiev, Rachmaninov and Scriabin and played Chopin études.
Meanwhile, Kapustin also pursued a career as a jazz pianist, eventually touring
with Oleg Lundstrem’s Jazz Orchestra. His compositions reflect that background,
coming close to sounding like what Rachmaninov would have sounded like had
he been born Oscar Peterson. Far from being a mere influence or occasional
reference (as one finds in the music of, say, Copland or Ravel), jazz is at the very
heart of Kapustin’s musical language.
But the more I find out about the still relatively unknown Kapustin (his music isn’t
even published in the West yet), the more Schubertian he appears! In the history
of music, there was probably no gentler soul than Schubert, painfully shy, homely
(called “little mushroom” by his friends), and preferring the company of intimates
in a Gasthaus over the fancy soirées of the aristocracy. Kapustin hates to travel;
seems to despise all the artificiality of that most banal of modern “necessary
evils,” namely, self-promotion; and dresses with all the panache of a 1960s used
car salesman. The Viennese Schubert and the Russian Kapustin–soul mates
separated by a mere 109 years!
Schubert’s Sonata in A Major, D. 959 was composed within that incredible five-week
spurt of creativity, September to October 1828–just two months shy of his
death–when he also penned the C Minor (D. 958) and B-flat (D. 960) piano
sonatas and the double-cello String Quintet (D. 956). Did Schubert have a
premonition of his own end, which came on the 19th of November, 1828? We’ll
never know. But one thing is sure: Schubert was working at the absolute height
of his creative energies (which, considering his short life, were never low to begin
with) when what was to become his penultimate piano sonata emerged.
Considering the length of these last three sonatas (the C Minor takes about 30
minutes to play, the A Major 45 minutes, and the B-flat around 50 minutes), the
short duration of their composition is truly astounding.
The first movement, “Allegro,” begins majestically and urgently, defined by an
octave leap in the left hand, two quarter notes that seem to say “Lis-ten!,” or, in
German “Hör’ mal!” After this initial declaration and some fleeting triplets, a
potently chromatic transition section comes. Soon thereafter, the blandly diatonic
second theme appears–as innocent, unhurried, and intimate as the first theme
was proclamatory, demanding of our attention, and universal. Such great
contrasts lay the groundwork for the movement’s high drama.
The Italianate “Andantino” may show the influence of Salieri (unjustly discounted
in the movie Amadeus), with whom Schubert had studied early on. Again,
contrasts rule the day: the plaintive first melody gradually morphs into a full-blown
tone poem (think Delacroix’s Massacre at Chios), where some heroic struggle
erupts.
The “Scherzo” is as light as the “Andantino” was life-threatening. In the trio, a sly
reference to the dramatic first movement (remember those two quarter notes in
the left hand that descended an octave?) crops up–from one point of view, the
most unlikely place for this quotation. In a subtle way, however, perhaps
Schubert is saying to us, “Even in our most joyful moments sans souci, we still
remember those times of great drama and challenge.” (Conversely, great
musical dramas, like the first movement, have many moments of calm and utter
tranquility!)
The last movement, “Allegretto,” is based on a melody Schubert used earlier in
his compositional career, namely as the tune of the slow movement of his
Sonata, D. 537 (composed in 1817). In both iterations, the melody conjures up a
tender but slightly nostalgic feeling. Structurally, the movement combines
variation, rondo, and sonata-allegro procedures. The movement concludes with
a quotation of the opening octave descent; what was presented at the very
beginning of the sonata as a challenge (if not exactly a question) becomes, at the
very end of the sonata, a tremendous confirmation, a joyous victory.
Kapustin’s Second Piano Sonata, written in 1989, has been followed in the
intervening years by eleven more piano sonatas! (Compositional intensity also
unites him with Schubert.) The pianists Steven Osborne, Marc-André Hamelin,
and Nikolai Petrov have recorded his music and been the torchbearers for this
still unknown giant.
Opus 54's first movement, “Allegro molto,” covers every modulation and jazz
chord known to mankind, sometimes in the space of just a few measures. The
harmonies are dense yet the textures are supremely pianistic. I hear the
tunefulness of Keith Jarrett, a certain Broadway-finale flair, and stride straight out
of Erroll Garner. A playful and rubato coda stops the momentum just long
enough to provide repose before all hell breaks loose in the second movement,
“Allegro assai.” This scherzo is more driving than the scherzo in Schubert’s
sonata.
In “Largo,” some may hear lounge-lizard harmonies. It’s true that the lazy tempo
and abundance of major-seventh chords may suggest clouds of cigarette smoke
Program Notes
by John Salmon
On the surface, the two pieces on tonight’s program look similar: two piano
sonatas, in closely related keys, each cast in four traditional sonata movements.
Both have a scherzo. Both use the term “Allegro vivace.” Both provide
compelling evidence for the durability of the genre.
Upon hearing the works however, it won’t take long to notice their different
languages. Schubert writes in the style of both Viennese classicism and an
emerging Romanticism (in an idiom he himself helped to create), evoking the
world of Beethoven, but also pointing toward the drama of Berlioz and Wagner.
His music always seems a blend of tightly ordered development and expansive
musical canvases, of symphonic textures and heartfelt lyricism, of urgent
arguments and dreamy soliloquies. If we were to describe his works as
paintings, we might say that Schubert combines the linear precision of Ingres
with the colorful opulence of Delacroix.
Nikolai Kapustin, born in 1937, had rigorously classical training at the Moscow
Conservatory where he studied piano with Alexander Goldenweisser. He
ingested Prokofiev, Rachmaninov and Scriabin and played Chopin études.
Meanwhile, Kapustin also pursued a career as a jazz pianist, eventually touring
with Oleg Lundstrem’s Jazz Orchestra. His compositions reflect that background,
coming close to sounding like what Rachmaninov would have sounded like had
he been born Oscar Peterson. Far from being a mere influence or occasional
reference (as one finds in the music of, say, Copland or Ravel), jazz is at the very
heart of Kapustin’s musical language.
But the more I find out about the still relatively unknown Kapustin (his music isn’t
even published in the West yet), the more Schubertian he appears! In the history
of music, there was probably no gentler soul than Schubert, painfully shy, homely
(called “little mushroom” by his friends), and preferring the company of intimates
in a Gasthaus over the fancy soirées of the aristocracy. Kapustin hates to travel;
seems to despise all the artificiality of that most banal of modern “necessary
evils,” namely, self-promotion; and dresses with all the panache of a 1960s used
car salesman. The Viennese Schubert and the Russian Kapustin–soul mates
separated by a mere 109 years!
Schubert’s Sonata in A Major, D. 959 was composed within that incredible five-week
spurt of creativity, September to October 1828–just two months shy of his
death–when he also penned the C Minor (D. 958) and B-flat (D. 960) piano
sonatas and the double-cello String Quintet (D. 956). Did Schubert have a
premonition of his own end, which came on the 19th of November, 1828? We’ll
never know. But one thing is sure: Schubert was working at the absolute height
of his creative energies (which, considering his short life, were never low to begin
with) when what was to become his penultimate piano sonata emerged.
Considering the length of these last three sonatas (the C Minor takes about 30
minutes to play, the A Major 45 minutes, and the B-flat around 50 minutes), the
short duration of their composition is truly astounding.
The first movement, “Allegro,” begins majestically and urgently, defined by an
octave leap in the left hand, two quarter notes that seem to say “Lis-ten!,” or, in
German “Hör’ mal!” After this initial declaration and some fleeting triplets, a
potently chromatic transition section comes. Soon thereafter, the blandly diatonic
second theme appears–as innocent, unhurried, and intimate as the first theme
was proclamatory, demanding of our attention, and universal. Such great
contrasts lay the groundwork for the movement’s high drama.
The Italianate “Andantino” may show the influence of Salieri (unjustly discounted
in the movie Amadeus), with whom Schubert had studied early on. Again,
contrasts rule the day: the plaintive first melody gradually morphs into a full-blown
tone poem (think Delacroix’s Massacre at Chios), where some heroic struggle
erupts.
The “Scherzo” is as light as the “Andantino” was life-threatening. In the trio, a sly
reference to the dramatic first movement (remember those two quarter notes in
the left hand that descended an octave?) crops up–from one point of view, the
most unlikely place for this quotation. In a subtle way, however, perhaps
Schubert is saying to us, “Even in our most joyful moments sans souci, we still
remember those times of great drama and challenge.” (Conversely, great
musical dramas, like the first movement, have many moments of calm and utter
tranquility!)
The last movement, “Allegretto,” is based on a melody Schubert used earlier in
his compositional career, namely as the tune of the slow movement of his
Sonata, D. 537 (composed in 1817). In both iterations, the melody conjures up a
tender but slightly nostalgic feeling. Structurally, the movement combines
variation, rondo, and sonata-allegro procedures. The movement concludes with
a quotation of the opening octave descent; what was presented at the very
beginning of the sonata as a challenge (if not exactly a question) becomes, at the
very end of the sonata, a tremendous confirmation, a joyous victory.
Kapustin’s Second Piano Sonata, written in 1989, has been followed in the
intervening years by eleven more piano sonatas! (Compositional intensity also
unites him with Schubert.) The pianists Steven Osborne, Marc-André Hamelin,
and Nikolai Petrov have recorded his music and been the torchbearers for this
still unknown giant.
Opus 54's first movement, “Allegro molto,” covers every modulation and jazz
chord known to mankind, sometimes in the space of just a few measures. The
harmonies are dense yet the textures are supremely pianistic. I hear the
tunefulness of Keith Jarrett, a certain Broadway-finale flair, and stride straight out
of Erroll Garner. A playful and rubato coda stops the momentum just long
enough to provide repose before all hell breaks loose in the second movement,
“Allegro assai.” This scherzo is more driving than the scherzo in Schubert’s
sonata.
In “Largo,” some may hear lounge-lizard harmonies. It’s true that the lazy tempo
and abundance of major-seventh chords may suggest clouds of cigarette smoke
John Salmon
piano
Faculty Recital
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
7:30 pm
Recital Hall, School of Music
Program
Sonata in A Major, D. 959 (1828) Franz Schubert
Allegro (1797-1828)
Andantino
Scherzo: Allegro vivace
Rondo: Allegretto
Intermission
Sonata No. 2 in E Major, Op. 54 (1989) Nikolai Kapustin
Allegro molto (born 1937)
Scherzo: Allegro assai
Largo
Perpetuum mobile: Allegro vivace
_____
The hall is equipped with a listening assistance system.
Patrons needing such assistance should contact an usher in the lobby.
