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Hello and welcome to Sticky Notes, the classical music podcast. My name is Joshua Weilerstein, I'm a conductor and I'm the music director of the Orchestra Naschen Adelille and the chief conductor of the Aalborg Symphony. This podcast is for anyone who loves classical music, works in the field, or is just getting ready to dive in to this amazing world of incredible music. Before we get started, I want to thank my new Patreon sponsors and Kelly, Alice, Roxanne, Greg, Scott, Jacqueline, Resinator, Robert Christian, James, Carol, John, Michael and Kathleen, and all of my other Patreon sponsors for making season 11 possible. If you'd like to support the show, please head over to patreon.com stickynotespodcast and if you are a fan of the show, please take a moment to give us a rating or review on Apple Podcasts. It is greatly appreciated. I am in Lille this week with the Orchestra national de Lille and we are doing a really fun program with Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue and a piece that was written in response to Rhapsody in Blue that nobody knows, called Yamma Craw by the great jazz pianist James P. Johnson. This is all with Paul Lye, the wonderful pianist, so we're having a really great time with all of that. I will also be heading next week to Chicago to conduct the Chicago Symphony in a really wonderful American program with the Lincoln Portrait, Duke Ellington's Harlem, a piece by Martineau, which he wrote in the U.S. ives's three places in New England, and Jesse Montgomery's banner. It's going to be quite a special experience to work with such a wonderful orchestra. For this week I've got a really fun episode on Dvorak's Piano Quintet. I wanted to mention that the recording that I'm using for this episode is with the Cleveland Quartet, my dad's old quartet, and Emmanuel Axe as well, the pianist. Really hope you enjoy this one. In 1872, at the age of 31, Dvorak wrote a piano quintet, which is designated as Opus 5. Dvorak was not a prodigy like some other famous composers, but instead his development as a composer was slow and steady. Later in his life, Dvorak would look back at some of these early pieces with a mix of nostalgia and embarrassment, burning some of them and revising others. In the case of the Opus 5 Piano Quintet, Dvorak decided to revise the piece in 1887, 15 years after its original composition and when Dvorak was approaching the peak of his creative powers. But soon Dvorak cast aside the older quintet and decided to write an entirely new piece. And what we were gifted with was his Opus 81 piano. A luminous, gorgeous, exciting, tragic, joyful folk like classical, and flat out masterful work that in some ways sums up what makes Dvorak such a wonderful composer and someone whose music really never gets old. The Dvorak Piano Quartet is the kind of piece that seems like an old friend from the moment you start listening to it. And 40 minutes later, as it comes to its rollicking end, you feel as if you've been through a journey, through a familiar tale told in the most illuminating way. I've always adored this piece and now that I'm able to explore a bit more chamber music on the show, I'm thrilled to share it with you. This week we'll talk about Dvorak's mix of folk like sonorities, along with his adherence to classical forms, his inexhaustible melodies and the intangibles that make Dvorak's music so fresh and inviting. All this and more is coming right up on sticky notes. The Piano Quintet as a genre deserves just a bit of time before we start talking about Dvorak's piano Quintet. The original form of the Piano Quintet was a piano, of course, a violin, a viola, a cello, and a double bass. The most famous example of one of those kind of piano quintets is Schubert's Trout Quintet, a glorious piece that I'll also talk about one of these days. But by the mid 19th century, the string quartet had become the pinnacle of musical expression, mostly thanks to Beethoven and his extraordinary late quartets. The great composer and critic Robert Schumann had the idea of combining the string quartet with the piano, which gave the string quartet an almost symphonic backing and the piano a sparring partner to dialogue with. Schumann's Piano Quintet instantly created a new genre that some of the greatest composers of the time embraced, including Brahms and of course Dvorak. Other composers of the late 19th century like Liszt or Wagner, were uninterested in this music as it smacked of old forms and of so called conservative ideas that were not pushing music forward. And I bring them up because Dvorak was a complicated case. He was friendly with Brahms, who was a big supporter of his music, but Dvorak also adored Wagner. Dvorak stood in an uneasy position during the War of the Romantics where Brahmsians attempted to hold on to the old forms and structures of some of the classical era masters like Beethoven, while the new German school attempted to cast all that aside and create something completely new. Dvorak loved aspects of both sides of this war, as many composers and listeners did at the time and today. And so he needed to find his own way. Additionally, Dvorak was Bohemian and therefore somewhat of an eternal outsider from German culture, something that was not by choice, but which Dvorak learned to embrace in many ways. So how did Dvorak balance all of this? Well, formally, he was quite a classicist, and we'll see that in the Piano Quintet. But in his melodic content, he pointed somewhat towards the New German School, while also keeping one foot firmly with the Brahmsians. He did this by often using folk like themes from his native Bohemia that gave a feeling of a kind of exoticism and newness to the New German School listeners, while keeping all of those themes within strict classical forms, the Brahmsians. In this way, Dvorak never really participated in the war of the Romantics and in many ways rode above it. Let's go into the Piano Quintet now with this lens and explore this wonderful piece. It begins with a cello solo that, as I said, it's like an old friend greeting you with a warm hug after a long absence. But as you heard, Dvorak makes a surprising turn at the end of this gorgeous melody. Dvorak turns away from A major, the home key of this movement, and moves to A minor, creating drama and contrast within less than 30 seconds of the piece. Starting. This brings in the rest of the strings who play a driving idea that ends up breaking out into rambunctious joy. There is a freedom and ease in the way that Dvorak writes, which makes it feel absolutely effortless. The themes and melodies seem to just pour out of him, and the progression here from drama to joy to lyricism is as infectious as it is beautiful. Dvorak does something very Brahmsian in this movement, which is that he starts developing the music right away. This movement is in sonata form, meaning an exposition with two or sometimes more themes, then a development where those themes are turned over and manipulated, a recapitulation where the two themes come back, and then a coda where everything is summed up. But Dvorak, like Brahms, doesn't wait for the development section to start to developing, to start manipulating the themes. Instead, he already transforms the opening idea of the cello theme, a leap into something playful and coy, and then into a profoundly warm and comforting version of the theme. We've already heard three or four different versions of this theme, and we're not even out of the first theme section of the exposition.
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Dvorak once again moves to that dramatic A minor, but he then expands it and also stays on A minor for quite a while. This is all to set up the second theme in a Sonata 4 movement in A major. You would expect the second theme to be in E major, but Dvorak doesn't do that. Instead, he stays in the minor key, this time to C minor. He also gives the theme to the viola, not usually the instrument in a piano quintet that would introduce a theme, the unusual key and the unusual instrument. This signals something to us, which is that this theme isn't like most second themes. The significance here is that Dvorak is using the first of many themes in this piece that have an influence from bohemian folk music. Dvorak was made famous during his lifetime by his collection of Slavonic dances, which are still wildly popular today and were part of a massive uptick in so called nationalistic music during this period. Dvorak, unlike later work by someone like Bartok, didn't really take authentic folk themes, but instead fashioned his own themes in the folk style. This is one of those themes, a wistful, tender and winding theme accompanied by a heartbeat in the piano. The rest of the strings soon take it up and we begin to develop this theme as well. One of the things I always find fascinating in music is that minor keys can mean so many different things. The natural thought about minor keys is that they signify music that is dark or sad. But I think, and you may feel differently, of course, which is fine, but I think there is something very different about this theme. It's in a minor key, but almost so that it can provide some tinge of pathos to a theme that's actually pretty fun to listen to. It's almost like a sweet sorrow, something that we'll come back to a lot during the second movement.
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This climactic moment is followed by a repeat of the entire exposition. There is no coda in this exposition, which is not that out of the ordinary. But in a movement as expansive as this one, it's worth noting. Moving past that repeat into the development, Dvorak runs into a problem, A problem that was very familiar to Brahms. Dvorak has already developed both of his themes, so what is he supposed to do with the development section? Brahms encountered this all the time, and both composers had to grapple with their desire to constantly change and develop their themes right away. In the case of the Piano Quintet, Dvorak starts the development with a series of gorgeous modulations based around the second theme's opening bars. And then, in a touch that I find absolutely brilliant, Dvorak has the cello lead a new version of the first theme, now clearly meant to sound full of longing, while the piano plays choppy triplets, clearly meant to evoke the energy of the second theme. Dvorak doesn't need to put his themes together in this development. He only needs to suggest that they might fit together. He then takes his dotted rhythm idea from the opening theme, which is of course present in the second theme as well, and writes a kind of cookie cutter development section in the Beethoven mood, full of drama and storms. This might not be the most inspired moment of the piece, but it serves its purpose. It takes us to a magically inspired moment just after where Dvorak takes us to C major, a remote key in the context of this movement, for a dreamlike look at those dotted rhythms, only to be interrupted by the second theme, which is full of fire and fury. It's a brilliant device of contrast, and it only works because of the dutiful way Dvorak took us. Craftsmanship leading to inspiration.
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The end of the development is one of my favorite moments in all of Dvorak's music. The music, as in many developments, begins to wander and ends up in G flat major, another remote key and one of great warmth. The piano plays a version of the opening theme, marked to be played in a tranquil way, but the strings play repeated eighth notes, something that definitely does not suggest tranquility. This tension cannot be held, and with a huge crescendo, passion, and a sense of relief, we come flying into the recapitulation. This was a huge development section, showing how rich these themes were for Dvorak. He then truncates the recapitulation section quite a bit, which makes sense since he has exposed these two themes to a lot already. And now we head to the coda, the section that was missing before. In the exposition, Dvorak will take a few ideas from his development section, as if he's gathering all his forces for this final minute of the movement. Around 13 minutes of music have led to this moment, and as if to celebrate, Dvorak now finally transforms his second theme into the major key we've been waiting for all along. And with an almost childlike level of joy, we dance our way to the end of this thrilling movement.
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The second movement is marked Dumka and is really the heart of the piece. Dumka means thought in Ukrainian. In musical terms, it usually refers to a kind of epic folk ballad that alternates slow and fast sections. Dvorak loved Dumkas and actually wrote a brilliant piano trio called Dumki, which explores this form to the max. I actually know that trio probably better than any piece of music, considering I grew up listening to my parents and sister play it all the time. I think I knew the Dumke trio before I was even born. I think one of the reasons that a Dumka appealed to Dvorak was its variety of Dvorak, like Mozart, seemed to just live in a constant stream of brilliant melodic ideas. They simply poured out of him. A Dumka form alternates a repeated A section with intervening sections that take on their own melodies or ideas. In many ways, this is similar to rondo form, but Dvorak makes this form his own. The movement starts with a clear nod to that epic folk ballad. We feel as if we are sitting around a fire about to listen to a long, winding and tragic tale. Once again, Dvorak gives pride of place in the melody to the viola, whose plaintive song begins the movement. The viola is such a perfect instrument for this theme. Not too deep like the cello, not too soprano ish like the violin. That middle register gives this theme such a human feeling, especially as it expands in the second part of the opening theme. At one point, the violin does take over, but Dvorak marks it to be played on the G string, creating a viola like sound that continues the line even though the instruments change.
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This A section which we are going to get to know very well as we listen to this movement, concludes with a gorgeous piano cadenza of sorts, which sets up the key of D major, the key of our first interlude.
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This interlude might be another one of my many favorite moments in this piece. The key transforms, as I said, to a luminous D major, and Dvorak writes a dizzying array of rhythmic detail. Dvorak essentially splits the rhythm into 16th notes and triplets, with both the melodic duet in the violins switching constantly, but also a beautifully unstable two against three rhythm appearing in the viola, cello and piano. Dvorak now takes this seemingly carefree theme and transforms it into something mysterious. Dvorak doesn't do much more than change the accompaniment and add in some chromatic pitches, but the effect is magical. And this meandering line finds its way back to setting up F minor, and we return back to the A theme. The structure of the theme is exactly the same, but Dvorak makes many instrumentation changes in order to keep that sense of variety. This time, the viola adds in a comment to the initial piano line and the cello now plays the big tune while the two violins float above this is the same music through a totally different lens.
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The next interlude is a huge surprise. This time Dvorak doesn't do any setup for the new key. Instead, the entire group plays that passionate and striving harmonic change that the piano played alone in the first A section. And then, with no warning, the viola changes the character of the music entirely. This music has transformed into F sharp major. And Dvorak has taken that tragic bam ba da badam rhythm and turned it into something utterly playful and full of youthful energy. I'm always taken aback at the ability that the great composers had to write themes that were so infinitely malleable. This music will now cycle through a massive array of keys before becoming increasingly wilder and wilder. This is the most thrilling moment of the movement. And it couldn't be more of a contrast to the rhapsodic music we've been listening to. But we can't escape. That shocking stop of the motion takes us back to the melancholy of the main theme. That kind of exuberance that we just heard is going to have to wait for the final two movements. And Dvorak now plays his third version of the A theme, now with the first violin leading the way. But there's another theme we don't escape, and that's the B theme that. That beautiful and slightly seductive theme in the major key. This time we hear it in F major, and Dvorak revels in that bright sonority as we one more time are able to dream. And we finally reach the end of this epic tale. With a final return to the A music. The viola has pride of place once more, and the movement begins to wind down. The end of the movement is actually the darkest and bleakest moment of the entire piece. The piano plays a descending arpeggio down into the depths of the instrument until we come to rest on F minor. No one writes a tragic, epic fairy tale like Dvorak. And this is one of the greatest examples in all of his.
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The third movement is marked Furiant. Now, an English speaker will immediately think of the word fury and think that this movement might be a reflection of the second movement and be something quite dark and stormy. Well, words can be deceiving. The Furiant is a bohemian folk dance which usually employs lots of dramatic play between two beats to a bar and three beats to a bar. A great example of this is in Dvorak's 6th Symphony. But in this movement, perhaps in deference to the drama of the second movement, Dvorak doesn't really play too many Rhythmic games. Instead, we are taken into this bouncy and cheerful world with no pretense or complications whatsoever. We then arrive at a theme that is as carefree as you could get played by the cello. Though Dvorak does throw in a few harmonic curveballs here and there. Listen to how the accompaniment colors the theme that the cello plays. And that cello theme is actually hiding something as well. Listen to the opening of the quintet and then the theme right after. Dvorak has transformed this theme from the opening of the quintet and placed it right here in the Scherzo. It's not something easy to notice, but as I've said before, I do think that this is something that we subconsciously understand, even if we don't think, oh, that's from the first movement. The second part of the Scherzo A section is a dreamy melody accompanied by bell like chords in the piano. We are really in folk music fantasy territory.
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As our dreamer begins rapidly changing keys again, like a collage of different visions of country life. We hop, skip and jump our way into the trio. The middle section of the movement, which starts with a breathtaking harmonic shift to F major again. Over the years I've gotten a lot of questions about key relationships. Basically, why do they matter? Well, you don't need to have an ounce of technical knowledge to understand that this, Followed immediately by this, Is something surprising. I can give you the technical explanation, but I think it's best, especially with someone like Dvorak, to just leave it to him to take your breath away. It's almost like night has fallen on this joyful party, and the group takes a moment to admire the stars. Little snippets of the Fury ant theme come and go, but the overriding mood of this trio middle section is of peace and contemplation. There is a truly heavenly aspect to this music, helped along by Dvorak's use of the high registers in the strings. This is then followed by music that almost has the feeling of a prayer. It's led again by the viola and the music begins to envelop us, to take us in. But of course, this won't last forever. With just four measures of acceleration and crescendo, Dvorak casts aside these prayers and begins the dance again. The last movement is in sonata form, and it seems to begin with a kind of offbeat bouncy theme. But this is actually only the introduction. The theme that is revealed is of disarming simplicity and is infectiously cheerful. I bet this is the theme that will be stuck in your head after you listen to the show today. One of the things that makes Dvorak's music so infectious is his sense of rhythm. Listen to that whole passage again, and listen only to the accompaniment. It's constantly shifting and changing in every moment, coloring the simple melody in harmony and giving the music a wonderful kind of unpredictability. A long transition then takes place to the second theme. This second theme is led by the first violin. And while I was writing this show, I kept trying to hit on a word for what these themes are like. For me, I finally figured it out as I listened to this theme. There is an innocence to many of the themes in this piece and in Dvorak's music in general, that is so touching to me. It's not that these themes are shallow, not at all. In fact, their innocence is their deepest characteristic. At a time where composers were fighting over what it meant to be a serious composer, Dvorak found a way to do that through themes and melodies that were bursting with innocence. It's a remarkable feat, and it's no more true than with this beautifully naive second theme theme. This is especially true in the response to the theme, which is full of sadness, but again, a kind of pure naive sadness. The theme culminates in a wonderfully expressive dialogue between the string instruments, and it takes us into the development section, which begins the same way the exposition did, but in a different key. Listeners without perfect pitch would be forgiven for thinking we've started an exposition repeat, but soon they will realize they've been fooled. Unsurprisingly, the development takes the first theme to a more dramatic place, exploring minor keys and also passionate countermelodies in the strings. After a series of rapid key changes, Dvorak lands in C minor a long way from the main key of A major. And with the music stripped of all of its innate warmth. This transition allows Dvorak to start another typical developmental a fugue, where a theme or subject appears, which is then followed by an entrance of the same theme while the original voice carries on. A fugue isn't something that is that common in Dvorak, but it matches a similar fugue in the last moment of Dvorak's friend, benefactor, and sometimes mentor, Brahms Piano Quintet. And Dvorak doesn't hold back on the drama, creating a stormy atmosphere that is some of the most dramatic music we've heard in a while.
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But Dvorak wasn't using the fugue to get to an emotional climax. He was actually using it as a transition to his recapitulation so the breakthrough here is back to playfulness, not seriousness. But it's not a straightforward recapitulation either. After the initial breakthrough, listen to how Dvorak plays with our expectations. Are we actually in the recap or is this just a continuation of the development? It's only the arrival of the second theme, led by, you guessed it, the viola again, which reassures us. Okay, now we get to a part of the piece which I've been wanting to talk about since I decided to do this show, and that is the coda of this movement. It begins with a quick reminder of the trio section of the third movement with slow moving chords that suggest a prayer or a lullaby. This is followed by the first violin playing a slowed down version of the opening theme of the movement in a theme of stunning tenderness. The prayer returns, and as if it blesses the end of the peace, the whole group begins to speed up until we rush to the end of the piece in again I know I've been using a lot of superlatives today. One of the most thrilling passages of music I think Dvorak ever wrote. Why have I been using so many superlatives? It's because to me, this coda, this piece, it sums up everything I love about Dvorak. Tenderness, beautiful melodies, brilliant accompaniments, freshness, naivete, excitement, and more. I think you can tell how much I adore this piece and how much I adore Dvorak's music in general. I feel like Dvorak is great music for hard times. It's not something you can just take your mind off of, but it's also a moment, or in this case, 40 minutes of moments of joy, of tenderness and of beauty that can truly fill your heart and leave you whistling as you leave the concert hall. I think we all need a bit of Dvorak in our lives these days, and I hope I've been a part of sharing that with you this week. Thanks so much for listening to Sticky Notes today. This episode was mixed by Charlie Kozella, so a huge thank you to him. We'll have some more exciting stuff for you in a couple of weeks, so don't miss our next episode. If you like what you heard today, please feel free to rate and review the show on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. It really helps the show gain more visibility, and please send any questions to stickynotespodcastmail.com if you'd like to support the podcast monetarily, just head over to patreon.com stickynotespodcast thanks and I'll talk to you again after a while,
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