“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” So begins Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s famous 1850 Sonnet No. 43. It’s also a nice set up for today’s program, which turns on different expressions of love. We open the concert with one of music history’s great, and ultimately tragic, love stories – that of Clara Wieck and Robert Schumann (born June 8, 1810, Zwickau, Germany; died July 29, 1856, Endenich, Bonn, Germany). In 1835 Schumann’s affection towards his piano teacher’s daughter, Clara, turned romantic. He was 25, she 16. It took a couple of years, and a lawsuit, but they eventually married, which unleashed a creative energy in Robert that lasted years. Though not a part of his so-called “year of chamber music,” the Fantasiestücke (Fantasy Pieces) for Cello and Piano of 1849 was created in the same kind of heated frenzy in which he completed so much of his work. Written over the course of two days, these fantasy pieces flow in three interconnected movements, full of longing and drama, following a trajectory from darkness to light. Unfortunately for Robert, the drama of his inner life (he had a history of depression and mania that some believe may have been compounded by tertiary syphilis) would eventually lead him to madness and death at the age of 46, bringing Robert and Clara’s love story to a heartbreaking end.
But Clara’s story doesn’t end there. Like Schumann, lifelong bachelor Johannes Brahms (born May 7, 1833, Hamburg, Germany ; died April 3, 1897, Vienna, Austria) also had an affinity for Clara. Fourteen years her junior, Brahms fell under Clara’s spell after befriending Robert Schumann, whom the young composer deeply admired. When Robert’s mental state deteriorated and he threw himself into the Rhine River, only to be rescued and taken to an institution where he would live out his remaining days, Brahms stayed in the Schumann home and helped with the children while Clara was away concertizing. After Robert’s death, Brahms considered asking for Clara’s hand, but that’s not our Brahms love story for today. Instead, we focus on the love of friendship. Brahms wrote his Zwei Gesänge (Two Songs) for Voice, Viola, and Piano for his beloved friend and confidant, violinist Joseph Joachim and his wife, contralto Amalie Marie Joachim. "Geistliches Wiegenlied" ("Sacred Lullaby") was written on the occasion of their marriage, then revised and given to them as a present on the birth of their first child a year later. In the score, the opening viola line has lyrics written underneath that begin, “Joseph, my dear Joseph…” This unsung indication is both a hint to the popular Christmas song from which he borrowed the melody ("Josef, lieber Josef mein"), as well as a lovely tribute to his friend. Meanwhile, the sung text is from the vantage point of the Virgin Mary imploring the angels to protect her baby Jesus. Nearly 20 years later, Joseph and Amalie’s relationship was at a breaking point. Joseph, notoriously jealous, had accused
Amalie of adultery, and was threatening divorce. Brahms sided with Amalie. Joseph was stung. Brahms penned "Gestillte Sehnsucht" ("Quenched Longing"), as an olive branch, naively believing that this song might rekindle their love through invoking the nostalgia of their shared past. It didn’t work. Amalie did go on to sing the songs in performance, but never with Joseph on the viola. When Brahms prepared the songs for publication in 1884, he reversed their original order. That is how they will be performed today.
Breakups bring us to our next work. Pianist and composer Michael Stephen Brown’s (born 1987, Oceanside, NY) Love’s Lives Lost for Voice and Piano, was written in 2023 for his longtime friend, soprano Susanna Phillips (who also sings today’s performance). Michael provides the following note:
"My song cycle, Love's Lives Lost, takes inspiration from Schumann's renowned composition Frauen-Liebe und Leben (A Woman's Love and Life). To capture the cyclical essence present in Schumann's songs, I collaborated with my close friend, the gifted pianist and poet Evan Shinners, who crafted a collection of eight poems. Love's Lives Lost tells the tale of an unexpected reunion between two former lovers. While an unspoken chemistry lingers between them, they each hold contrasting interpretations of their shared past, adding depth and complexity to their journey. Similar to Schumann's original work, the piano plays a vital role, serving as a tender introduction and evolving into a central character, seamlessly connecting the songs in Love's Lives Lost. Adding a touch of humor to the poignant nostalgia, the penultimate song titled "Kalamazoo" humorously reenacts the rendezvous of the two lovers in the eponymous city. Dedicated to soprano Susanna Phillips, the cycle serves as both a tribute to her artistry and a wistful homage to the fleeting connections we encounter throughout our lives."
The eight songs that comprise the cycle – apart from the detour to Kalamazoo – make up a thoughtful meditation on intimacy, nostalgia, memory, and the schism between what was, what is, and what might have been.
Like Brahms, Ludwig van Beethoven (born December 1770, Bonn, Germany; died March 26, 1827, Vienna, Austria) never wed nor had children, but he, too, certainly loved. There were several women to whom he attached his heart over the years, and of course there exists the passionate love letters that he wrote to his “immortal beloved.” For this program, we focus on a different type of love Beethoven exhibited – that of the new. Beethoven was keenly interested in new advances, both in compositional style and instrument technology. He was constantly bemoaning the state of existing pianos, and helped the modern piano come about by advising instrument makers on technical and musical improvements. He incorporated “new” instruments into his works, adding trombones, contrabassoons, and piccolos to traditional symphony instrumentation, and he explored developing instruments, like the clarinet. Having been invented around 1700, the clarinet was still relatively new and was actively evolving when Beethoven wrote his Trio for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano in B-flat major, Op. 11 "Gassenhauer" in 1797. Though Mozart’s 1789 Clarinet Quintet and 1791 Clarinet Concerto were a big step forward,
they were actually written for the Basset Clarinet, a very close relative with an extended lower range. Beethoven’s Clarinet Trio was one of the first important chamber works for the instrument, and helped raise the clarinet’s profile. Sweet and bubbly, this is Beethoven at his most lighthearted and optimistic. All three movements provide a stellar vehicle for the clarinet’s silky, singing, legato qualities as well as its propensity for arpeggiated leaps and bounds and quick-fingered runs. Often referred to as the “Gassenhauer” (“Street Song”) trio, it is so named because of the tune from a popular opera for the final movement’s lighthearted set of variations. Its opening line, “Before I take on a big task, I like something to eat!” leads one to believe that Beethoven ate well before writing this astounding work.
The program comes to an end with two delicious songs by George Gershwin (born Sept 26, 1898, New York, NY; died July 11, 1937, Los Angeles, CA), with lyrics by his older brother, Ira. The two began working together from almost the beginning of George’s career on Tin Pan Alley. Soon one of their songs found its way into a Broadway production called Ladies First, and just a few years later, in 1924, they had their first Broadway show: Lady, Be Good. From this point until George’s untimely death in 1937 of brain cancer, they worked almost exclusively together, churning out hit after hit, producing 13 Broadway shows including Oh, Kay!, Funny Face, and Girl Crazy, as well as the opera Porgy and Bess. They didn’t just write for the theater; they also wrote for movies including the 1937 film Shall We Dance. Featured in that film was “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off,” today performed in an arrangement for voice and clarinet. The song follows a couple getting caught up in their petty differences. After some witty banter, they finally decide to let bygones be bygones, and continue their relationship. Too bad Brahms didn’t write this song – perhaps Joseph and Amalie would have stuck it out.
The program comes to a close with one of the greatest love songs ever written, “Our Love is Here To Stay.” Appearing in the 1938 film, The Goldwyn Follies, the song pushed the love story of the movie forward, but the importance of the song goes far beyond that. It was Gershwin’s final musical composition, and he died before the lyrics were written. Ira, in a touching tribute to his brother, wrote lyrics that both applied to the film’s narrative and to the incredible bond he shared with his brother. The song talks about the enduring strength of love, and ends:
In time the Rockies may crumble
Gibraltar may tumble
They're only made of clay
But forever and a day
Our love is here to stay
If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. —ML
