Program Notes: Sibelius Violin Concerto

SEBASTIAN FAGERLUND 
Stonework 
BORN: December 6, 1972, in Pargas, Finland 
WORK COMPOSED: 2014–2015 
WORLD PREMIERE: November 26, 2015, by the Bergen Philharmonic, conducted by Edward Gardner. 

What to Listen For:  

• The slow-moving melodies within a dense and complex texture, and the dramatic drop-off in sound following the climax.  

The slow-moving melodies within a dense and complex texture, and the dramatic drop-off in sound following the climax.  

Sebastian Fagerlund is one of the most prominent European composers of his generation, writing works that evoke wild landscapes and delve into a vibrant imagination. Born in Finland, he studied composition at the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki and was awarded Finland’s renowned Teosto Prize in 2011 for his orchestral work, Ignite. Stonework is the first in a trilogy of orchestral pieces that includes Drifts and Water Atlas. Though each work stands on its own, they share similar DNA that draws from Nordic nature. Describing his trilogy, Fagerlund writes that “the grand Finnish archipelago and sea with its vast and open views as well as the islands with their raw, primary rock continue to provide me with endless inspiration.” 

The title Stonework alludes to the many stone structures that people create around the world to represent landmarks, navigational aids and spiritual monuments. The abstract idea of these structures along with the physical presence of large rocks scattered across Finland becomes a point of departure for the melodic and harmonic forms of this piece.  

Stonework begins with a strike of bristling energy and continuous activity that seems to encompass every sound and texture simultaneously. A broad melody unfolds over a driving rhythmic pulse before reaching a moment of shimmering calm. The climax arrives via a slow-building wall of sound and ends abruptly, as if reaching a massive cliff edge. After this dramatic drop, the music slowly recedes into nothing, a shadow of the heft that came before.  

JEAN SIBELIUS 
Violin Concerto in D minor, Op. 47 (Final Version) 
BORN: December 8, 1865, in Hämeenlinna, Finland 
DIED: September 20, 1957, in Järvenpää, Finland 
WORK COMPOSED: 1902–1904, revised in 1905 
WORLD PREMIERE:  February 8, 1904, with the composer conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic. 

What to Listen For:  

• The beautifully dissonant first note in the violin sets the tone for a work that is filled with longing. The overarching feeling is that this is Sibelius’ farewell to his own dream of becoming a violinist.  

The beautifully dissonant first note in the violin sets the tone for a work that is filled with longing. The overarching feeling is that this is Sibelius’ farewell to his own dream of becoming a violinist.  

Before Jean Sibelius became a composer of heroic stature in Finland, he longed to be a violinist. He wrote in his diary about his days as a student: “The violin took me by storm, and for the next 10 years it was my dearest wish, my overriding ambition, to become a great virtuoso.” A lack of high-level teachers in Finland and his own physical limitations ended up hindering his dreams; he quit as a young adult after a disastrous audition for the Vienna Philharmonic and turned to composing full time.  

Sibelius wrote his Violin Concerto during a tumultuous time in his life. Despite great professional success, he struggled with alcoholism and depression, which put an emotional and financial strain on his wife, Aino, and their children. In an effort to curb his addictions, Sibelius and his family left the bustling city of Helsinki behind in 1904 and built a country home near an artists’ colony. Sibelius called the home Ainola after his wife and ended up living there for the rest of his life, surrounded by the serenity of nature.   

Though the piece was originally written for the renowned German violinist Willy Burmester, Sibelius was forced to move the premiere date due to his financial needs, and a much lesser known soloist was enlisted to learn the extremely difficult part in a short amount of time. As expected, the performance did not go well and Sibelius withdrew the concerto for revisions. The updated version was premiered over a year later, in 1905, with Richard Strauss conducting the Berlin Philharmonic. Willy Burmester was passed over for these concerts and never did perform the work.  

The Violin Concerto is haunting from the outset. Over muted strings, the soloist enters on a slightly dissonant note and begins a solemn yet sweeping melody imbued with hints of Finnish folk music. Instead of the soloist’s cadenza coming near the end of the movement as was traditional at the time, Sibelius places an extended cadenza in the middle, much like Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, a work that Sibelius had learned as a student. Toward the end of the cadenza, a bassoon creeps in with the opening melody and the violin echoes it, now on the lowest string, a darker iteration of its first ghostly entrance. The movement ends with a rush of virtuosity.  

Delicate duets by clarinets and oboes open the second movement. The violin enters with a lengthy melody full of tenderness. The orchestral texture grows more complex, leading to an emotional climax. Soft ascending scales in the violin overlap with descending scales in the flute as they accompany the melody in the clarinet and bassoon. The movement fades away while the soloist reaches a luminous high note.  

The third movement is a relentless dance in the style of a polonaise, full of rhythmic intricacy and difficult virtuosic passages for the soloist. Remarking on the rustic Nordic nature of the melody, the British music writer Donald Tovey famously called this movement a “polonaise for polar bears.”  

CARL NIELSEN  
Symphony No. 4, Op. 29, “The Inextinguishable” 
BORN: June 9, 1865, in Sortelung, Demark 
DIED: October 3, 1931, in Copenhagen 
WORK COMPOSED: 1914–1916 
WORLD PREMIERE: February 1, 1916, in Copenhagen 

What to Listen For:  

• The dueling timpani that dominate the final movement in a battle of wills and the brass chorale that leads to the ultimate triumph.  

The dueling timpani that dominate the final movement in a battle of wills and the brass chorale that leads to the ultimate triumph.  

Denmark’s most celebrated composer, Carl Nielsen, was born the same year as Finland’s favorite composer, Jean Sibelius. He grew up in a rural village on the island of Funen, the seventh of 12 children. Nielsen’s father, a house painter, played fiddle and cornet at local festivals and his mother loved to sing traditional songs. His musical talents won him a scholarship to Copenhagen Conservatory, where he studied violin and piano. For many years, Nielsen supported himself as a violinist in the Royal Theatre Orchestra in Copenhagen and later gained recognition there as a conductor. It would be many more years before he garnered a reputation as a composer.  

His Fourth Symphony was composed during the onset of World War I and in the aftermath of much personal turmoil for Nielsen. The year 1914 saw the end of his marriage and his resignation from his conducting post after the Royal Theatre failed to promote him. In July of that same year, he wrote in a letter to a friend that he was “well under way with a new large-scale orchestral work, a sort of symphony in one movement, which is meant to represent all that we feel and think about life in the most fundamental sense of the word, that is, all that has the will to live and to move.”  

When Nielsen completed his symphony two years later, he attached a note to the score to explain the meaning of his title: “The composer, in using the title The Inextinguishable, has attempted to suggest in one word what the music alone is capable of expressing to the full: the elemental Will of Life. Music is life and, like it, inextinguishable.” 

The opening of the Symphony bursts forth with the energy of something that has long been in motion. Pounding timpani and accented strings fill the space. When the initial tumult recedes, a second melody appears in the lyrical clarinets. This motto lays the foundation for material found in the third and fourth movements. After a climax, fragmented voices converse between high and low registers, interrupted by noisy violas. A second climax gives way to the violins, which lead the orchestra, haltingly, into the second movement.  

The Poco allegretto begins with a gentle woodwind intermezzo. The charming melody is reminiscent of a country dance band, much like the ones Nielsen’s father played in during the composer’s childhood. String pizzicatos accompany the woodwinds in the middle section, which quietly finds its way back to the opening folk tune before tapering off to a lone clarinet.  

The Poco adagio serves as the Symphony’s emotional heart, the impassioned violins suddenly calling out into the stillness of the preceding movement, aided by forceful timpani strikes. After this lament, a beautiful chorale begins, offering comfort and refuge, but is soon interrupted by clarinets and bassoons, in the same aggressive manner as the violas in the first movement. The orchestra builds in tension until it reaches a breaking point, retreating into the mournful chant of the movement’s opening.  

Violin trills break into dizzying scales that signal the final Allegro. This movement is marked by the presence of two sets of timpani on opposite sides of the stage, battling for dominance and creating a sense of havoc that the orchestra must fight against. The ensemble does reach a victorious moment of glory before falling into a wandering passage of whispered phrases. The dueling timpani return, bringing the orchestra with them in a final battle of virtuosic energy. A triumphant brass chorale takes the lead and the timpani finally unite to bring the work to a resounding and brilliant conclusion.   

All notes by Catherine Case © 2024