Memoirs in Time: Concerto for Double Bass and Orchestra
James Beckel
Composer/trombonist James Beckel is a longtime favorite of ISO audiences. From 1969 to 2018, he was the ISO’s Principal Trombone; during that time he also taught at DePauw University and the University of Indianapolis. Beckel, who has composed for orchestras, wind, and brass ensembles since the 1980s, has seen his music performed by many of the leading orchestras in the United States. His 1997 horn concerto, The Glass Bead Game, was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and has entered the standard horn repertoire.
“The title Memoirs in Time well describes this Double Bass Concerto,” Beckel writes. “For me, time is elusive. We exist within Einstein’s fourth dimension, but for most of us time’s passing is in its own way mystical. Without our memories of the past to help us recall the history of it all, time would be very vague in our awareness of our own existence. In our minds, we can go back in time to see old friends, loved ones, and family. This is not possible in the real physical world. For me, music is a language that can express these feelings better than words.
“In this concerto I recapture some of the emotions related to this dichotomy in the first movement, expressing the joy of remembering the beauty of happier times versus the sadness of not actually being able to communicate with parents and friends who are no longer with us.
“In that vein, the first movement is entitled ‘Memories of Home,’ where the music captures the love and warmth of those memories of home, especially from my own wonderful parents and family. In the second movement, ‘Memories of Youth,’ I create the world of my teen years, strongly influenced by my study and appreciation of jazz and the carefree existence of young adulthood. The third movement, entitled ‘Memories of Taiwan—Spring Breeze,’ uses a very popular folk song from Taiwan in a theme and variation format, relating memories of our Bass Soloist Ju-Fang Liu’s remembrance of her home in Taiwan. The final movement, ‘Memories Unwritten—Winds of Change,’ is a fast allegro showcase for our soloist that brings back many of the themes from the first movement and captures some trepidation regarding what the future might hold for us. The opening arpeggiated line that you hear in the very first measure of the first movement, played initially by the harp, returns in this final movement’s recapitulation with the harp playing this arpeggiated figure once again, leading us to a passionate climax to this concerto. This arpeggiated theme in fifths is meant to be a musical leitmotif of time itself. This leitmotif occurs in every movement of this concerto in different forms, becoming the musical glue reminding us we cannot escape Father Time in life’s journey.”
Symphony No. 5 in E Minor, Op. 64
Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
“I desperately want to prove, not only to others, but also to myself, that I am not yet played out as a composer,” Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky wrote to his patron Nadezhda von Meck in the spring of 1888. For today’s audiences, the idea that Tchaikovsky could think himself “played out” is puzzling, even bizarre; after he completed the Fifth Symphony he went on to write Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, and the “Pathétique” Symphony. All artists go through periods of self-doubt, however, and Tchaikovsky was plagued by creative insecurity and emotional mood swings more than most.
If you ask a Tchaikovsky fan to name their favorite symphony, they’ll most likely choose either the Fourth, with its dramatic “Fate” motif blaring in the brasses, or the Sixth (“Pathétique”). Sandwiched in between is the Fifth Symphony, often overlooked or undervalued when compared to its more popular neighbors. The Fifth is a monument in its own right, however, showcasing Tchaikovsky’s undisputed mastery of melody as it rolls out one unforgettable tune after another. Over time, the Fifth Symphony has earned its place in the canon of orchestral repertoire itself, but Tchaikovsky, along with several 19th century music critics, wavered in his opinion of its worth. At the end of the summer in 1888, Tchaikovsky wrote to von Meck, “It seems to me that I have not blundered, that it has turned out well,” and to his nephew Vladimir Davidov after a concert in Hamburg, “The Fifth Symphony was magnificently played and I like it far better now, after having held a bad opinion of it for some time.” After a performance in Prague, however, Tchaikovsky wrote to von Meck, “I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure. There is something repellent in it, some over-exaggerated color, some insincerity of fabrication which the public instinctively recognizes.”
Critics dismissed the new symphony as beneath Tchaikovsky’s abilities, and one American critic damned the composer with faint praise, writing “[Tchaikovsky] has been criticized for the occasionally excessive harshness of his harmony, for now and then descending to the trivial and tawdry in his ornamental figuration, and also for a tendency to develop comparatively insignificant material to inordinate length. But, in spite of the prevailing wild savagery of his music, its originality and the genuineness of its fire and sentiment are not to be denied.”
Tchaikovsky unifies all four movements of the Fifth Symphony with a recurring theme. We hear it first as a sense of foreboding in the lowest chalumeau register of the clarinet. Critic Michael Steinberg noted, “It will recur as a catastrophic interruption of the second movement’s love song, as an enervated ghost that approaches the languid dancers of the waltz, and . . . in majestic and blazing E major triumph.”
In 1939, Tchaikovsky’s poignant horn solo from the Andante cantabile reached new audiences when Mack David, Mack Davis, and Andre Kostelanetz transformed it into the popular song Moon Love, which became a hit for Frank Sinatra, as well as Glenn Miller.
© Elizabeth Schwartz. All rights reserved.
NOTE: These program notes are published by the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra for its patrons and other interested readers. Any other use is forbidden without specific permission from the author, who may be contacted at http://classicalmusicprogramnotes.com.
Elizabeth Schwartz is a musician, writer, and music historian based in Portland, OR. She has been a program annotator for more than 25 years, and writes for ensembles and festivals across the United States and around the world. Ms. Schwartz has also contributed to NPR’s “Performance Today,” (now heard on American Public Media). http://classicalmusicprogramnotes.com
