THE FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY College of Music
presents
UNIVERSITY SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA
Alexander Jiménez, Music Director and Conductor Sebastian Jimenez, Assistant Conductor featuring Sahoko Timpone, Mezzo-soprano
Saturday, February 4, 2023
7:30 p.m. | Ruby Diamond Concert Hall
Overture to Egmont, Op. 84
PROGRAM
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)
Sebastian Jimenez, conductor
Rückert-Lieder
Gustav Mahler
Liebst du um Schönheit (If you love for beauty) (1860–1911)
Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder! (Do not look into my songs!)
Um Mitternacht (At midnight)
Ich atmet’ eine Linden Duft (I breathed a gentle fragrance)
Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (I am lost to the world)
Sahoko Timpone, mezzo-soprano
INTERMISSION
Symphony No. 7 in D Minor, Op. 70, B. 141
Antonín Dvořák
Allegro maestoso (1841–1904) Poco adagio
Scherzo: Vivace
Finale: Allegro
To Ensure An Enjoyable Concert Experience For All…
Please refrain from talking, entering, or exiting during performances. Food and drink are prohibited in all concert halls. Recording or broadcasting of the concert by any means, including the use of digital cameras, cell phones, or other devices is expressly forbidden. Please deactivate all portable electronic devices including watches, cell phones, pagers, hand-held gaming devices or other electronic equipment that may distract the audience or performers.
Recording Notice: This performance may be recorded. Please note that members of the audience may at times be included in this process. By attending this performance you consent to have your image or likeness appear in any live or recorded video or other transmission or reproduction made in conjunction to the performance.
Health Reminder: The Florida Board of Governors and Florida State University expect masks to be worn by all individuals in all FSU facilities.
Florida State University provides accommodations for persons with disabilities. Please notify the College of Music at (850) 644-3424 at least five working days prior to a musical event to request accommodation for disability or alternative program format.
ABOUT THE MUSIC DIRECTOR AND CONDUCTOR
Alexander Jiménez serves as Professor of Conducting, Director of Orchestral Activities, and String Area Coordinator at the Florida State University College of Music. Prior to his appointment at FSU in 2000, Jiménez served on the faculties of San Francisco State University and Palm Beach Atlantic University. Under his direction, the FSU orchestral studies program has expanded and been recognized as one of the leading orchestral studies programs in the country. Dr. Jiménez has recorded on the Naxos, Neos, Canadian Broadcasting Ovation, and Mark labels. Deeply committed to music by living composers, Dr. Jiménez has had fruitful and long-term collaborations with such eminent composers as Ellen Taafe Zwilich and the late Ladisalv Kubík, as well as working with Anthony Iannaccone, Krzysztof Penderecki, Martin Bresnick, Zhou Long, Chen Yi, Harold Schiffman, Louis Andriessen, and Georg Friedrich Haas. The University Symphony Orchestra has appeared as a featured orchestra for the College Orchestra Directors National Conference and the American String Teachers Association National Conference, and the University Philharmonia has performed at the Southeast Conference of the Music Educators National Conference (now the National Association for Music Education). The national PBS broadcast of Zwilich’s Peanuts’ Gallery® featuring the University Symphony Orchestra was named outstanding performance of 2007 by the National Educational Television Association.
Active as a guest conductor and clinician, Jiménez has conducted extensively in the U.S., Europe, and the Middle East, including with the Brno Philharmonic (Czech Republic) and the Israel Netanya Chamber Orchestra. In 2022, Dr. Jiménez led the Royal Scottish National Orchestra in a recording of works by Anthony Iannaccone. Deeply devoted to music education, he serves as international ambassador for the European Festival of Music for Young People in Belgium and serves as Festival Orchestra Director and Artistic Consultant for the Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Michigan. Dr. Jiménez has been the recipient of University Teaching Awards in 2006 and 2018, The Transformation Through Teaching Award and the Guardian of the Flame Award, which is given to an outstanding faculty mentor. Dr. Jiménez is a past president of the College Orchestra Directors Association and served as music director of the Tallahassee Youth Orchestras from 2000-2017.
THIS EVENING’S FACULTY SOLOIST
Mezzo-soprano Sahoko Sato Timpone is a native of Tokyo who grew up in Japan, Germany, and the U.S. She made her Carnegie Hall debut with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields and has since performed in many operas and concerts throughout the U.S., Europe and Asia, including the Baltimore, Syracuse, Berkshire, St Petersburg and Chautauqua Operas, Opera Maine, the Saito Kinen Festival, the Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku, the Tokyo Opera Nomori and the Seattle, Oregon, West Virginia, Chautauqua, Singapore, and Sapporo Symphonies. She also made her OffBroadway debut as Ms. Sun Yi Nam in Figaro 90210 to critical acclaim (Marcellina in the updated version of Le nozze di Figaro).
She has performed solo recitals nationally and internationally including Bangkok, Thailand, sponsored by the Nomura Cultural Foundation, as well as in Granada, Spain, where she won the First Miguel Zanetti International Spanish Song Competition in 2008. Her recent and future performances include the Verdi Requiem with the Battenkill Chorale, Music Worcester, and Masterwork Chorus at Carnegie Hall. In 2021, she released her solo CD, Songs of Japonisme, from Sheva Collection and is the author of the textbook for the online singing course by Phonim Music in Japan.
Timpone is a graduate of New England Conservatory and Manhattan School of Music and received the DMA from Rutgers University where she was the recipient of the Irene Alm Memorial Award for excellence in performance and scholarly research. She has served as Assistant Professor of Voice at Florida State University since 2017 and has also
been invited as guest artist and faculty member at the Alion Baltic International Music Festival in Estonia and at the Lunigiana International Music Festival in Italy.
NOTES ON THE PROGRAM
Beethoven – Overture to Egmont, Op. 84
Beethoven wrote almost a dozen overtures, the most famous, of course, being the four that are connected with his only opera, Fidelio. Some are awful, like Wellington’s Victory, and others are of the stellar quality that the composer’s name evokes. Without doubt, in the forefront of the latter group is the Egmont overture from 1809-10. It is a truism of the history of the arts that some artists create with a deep reflection of their times and circumstances (to the delight of aficionati who prize personality), while other artists are able to pursue their art in an Olympian detachment from personal circumstances. Beethoven unquestionably could work in the latter fashion, and the Overture to Egmont fits the bill. Vienna was in turmoil during the summer of 1809, owing to the occupation of Napoleon’s army, and the state of the economy and currency values added to everyone’s distress. Beethoven—always concerned with money—took it all with difficulty, but was able to put it aside and compose some of his most important works. Completion of the “Lebewohl” piano sonata and the “Harp” string quartet, as well as initial work on the “Emperor” piano concerto date from that summer, and so does the composition of Egmont. That being said, it is not difficult to draw the conclusion that much of the storm and triumph of the overture stems from the anxiety over the French invasion.
Beethoven was a great admirer of Goethe, and was commissioned to provide incidental music for a performance of his play about the heroic death of Count Egmont in the fight to liberate the Netherlands from Spanish rule. He finished the commission in June 1810, providing an overture and other appropriate music, lasting in all about forty minutes. The overture, in best Beethovenian fashion, commences with somber gravity, a vigorous “working out” of his melodic materials in the middle section, and concludes with triumphant victory—arguably of good over evil owing to heroic strife of the individual.
– William E. RunyanMahler – Rückert-Lieder
Unlike his Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen or Kindertotenlieder, Mahler’s five Rückert Lieder do not form a cycle. What stands out most clearly in them is their individuality. The poetic theme of each is underlined by its distinctly different thematic material, orchestral scoring and structural layout. As always, musical form is strongly conditioned by poetic structure, but Mahler here finds constantly fresh and different ways to vary traditional strophic organization and match the intricacies of Rückert’s verse. The transparency of the orchestration, the use of orchestral interludes and the interplay between vocal and orchestral lines point in several of the songs to Mahler’s later fusion of symphony and song in Das Lied von der Erde.
The most traditional of the songs was the last composed, “Liebst du um Schönheit.” It is the most clearly strophic in form, with the four stanzas presented in pairs, with a very brief orchestral interlude in the middle. The first three stanzas are clear variants of one another. The fourth begins as if it were to continue in the same pattern, but underscores the central message of the song by stressing the words “liebe” (love) and “immer” (always) through rhythmic prolongation and emphasis on the upper register in the melody. Love must be for its own sake, not for beauty, youth or treasure.
“Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder” explores a more unusual theme. It warns the listener not to be too inquisitive about the process of creation, and suggests that the poet does not trust himself to inquire too much: only the finished work counts, not how it was achieved. The analogy made with the work of bees in the second stanza provides Mahler with the basis for his musical imagery. A brief introduction establishes a kind of perpetuum mobile with a subtle buzzing produced by an orchestra of muted strings, without double bass, single woodwinds and a horn, together with a harp. The two stanzas are variants of one another, but the first has an extra line, which repeats the text of the opening. In this repetition Mahler preserves the rhythm and some of the melodic features of his first vocal phrase, but shifts it to a different level and concludes with an upward rather than downward movement.
“Um Mitternacht” moves from the most brilliant day to deepest night, and the change is once more immediately apparent in its coloration. Mahler calls for an orchestra without strings. In addition to pairs of woodwinds (with a single oboe d’amore replacing the usual oboes), three horns, two trumpets, three trombones, a single tuba, and timpani, both harp and piano are prescribed. The length, weight and scale of the song match its theme. Five six-line stanzas (each of which begins and ends with “Um Mitternacht”) are set in a rich and complex contrapuntal idiom, more symphonic than lyric in character. Three central motives are introduced in the opening bars and form the foundation for much of the song: a fluctuating dotted figure in the clarinets; a rising and falling figure, also dotted, in the flute and then the oboe (also used in the Eighth Symphony); and an even descending scale in the horns (later also used in its inverted rising form). Each of the first four stanzas, in which the poet sends his thoughts upward into the dark sky and finds no answer to life’s struggles and sorrows, presents a different quiet permutation of these motives, combined with new melodic outgrowths. They lead finally to the transcendent moment in the concluding stanza in which he finds his answer through surrender to a supreme power, the “Lord of death and life,” in a hymn-like conclusion with triumphant brass fanfares, the only big dynamic climax in the entire group of songs. This song offers an interesting contrast with another midnight song by Mahler: his setting of a Nietzsche text, which he originally titled “Was mir die Nacht erzählt” (What night tells me), in the fifth movement of the Third Symphony. There, although the two songs share at least one motive, the overt affirmative climax is deliberately avoided.
“Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft” is perhaps unique in musically evoking a fragrance, the delicate fragrance of the lime tree with which the poet associates his love. The color of the setting is still more transparent, and much brighter than “Blicke mir nicht.” The orchestration again consists of single winds, horn and harp, but only violins and violas are called for, and a celesta has been added. The continuing even motion in the strings suggests the quiet wafting of the scent through the air. The settings of the two stanzas share material, but are no longer overtly strophic. The opening vocal phrase of the second stanza makes use of the second phrase of the first stanza, and continues on a different path. It is introduced and continues in a lovely contrapuntal dialogue with an oboe solo that returns as the instrumental postlude of the song.
The poetic theme of “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen,” one of Mahler’s most beautiful and moving songs, is again unusual. It evokes the peace achieved through the poet’s withdrawal from the everyday turmoil of the world and his absorption in the most meaningful and central aspects of his life: his heaven, his life, and his song. (By implication the last is the product of the preceding two). The comparatively long introduction, presented once more by an orchestra of woodwinds and strings, but this time with an English horn, and without the brighter sound of a flute, presents a wonderful expanding melody that moves upward from a simple two notes, to three, and then a more rapid extension to the line’s melodic peak, followed by a descent that completes the arc. A variant of this descent is used again to conclude and frame the three stanzas of the main body of the song. The setting of the beginning of each stanza draws on the introduction in different forms, and in each continues differently, with the second moving further afield in order to return more clearly to the opening in the third. In its melodic development, the transparent interweaving of
the instrumental and vocal lines and in the subtle fluctuation between inner tension and repose, the song represents one of Mahler’s supreme achievements. At the same time it points to a later masterpiece, the “Abschied” movement in Das Lied von der Erde.
– Edward R. ReillyDvořák – Symphony No. 7 in D Minor, Op. 70, B. 141
Dvořák is the preëminent Czech composer of the nineteenth century, and perhaps of all of his successors, as well. This is no small achievement, considering the number of great musicians—think Mozart, for example—who thought of Bohemia as the most musical country in Europe. Even today, one can hardly get on a streetcar in Prague without stepping around a double bass. Dvořák owed his initial recognition to Johannes Brahms, who encountered his music somewhat early in Dvořák’s career, and saw to it that he was enabled to spend time in Vienna for further study. While Dvořák’s fundamental stylistic orientation is similar to the older composer in its classical restraint and dedication to traditional forms and procedures, his compositions are unmistakable Czech in myriad subtle ways. Turns of harmony, melody, and rhythm firmly establish Dvořák’s ethnicity, even within the disciplined tradition of musical composition leading back to, say, Beethoven. Like Brahms, Dvořák wrote stunningly well in the similar genres of string quartets, sonatas, and symphonies. But unlike Brahms, he wrote tone poems and was an active and successful opera composer, although only his Rusalka is widely known in this country.
Dvořák wrote nine symphonies, but American audiences are most familiar with Symphonies No. 8 in G Major and No. 9 in E Minor “From the New World.” Confusion is further generated by the fact that his first four symphonies were not published in his lifetime, nor were they generally recognized until the 1950s! So, the D minor symphony is known by an older generation as No. 2, and today as No. 7. In any case, notwithstanding the remarkable quality and reputation of the two familiar ones alluded to above, many critics place the laurels on No. 7 as perhaps Dvořák’s best effort in the genre. It should be an eye-opener in the best possible way.
In 1883 Dvořák was invited to visit London by the Philharmonic Society to conduct his works, and beginning in 1884 he initiated a series of visits that over the years brought him great success and made him the “toast of the town.” This was especially gratifying, considering that at this time political, read Germanic, antipathy to his “Czechness” was hindering significantly the reception of his works on the continent. His Symphony No. 6 was enthusiastically received in England and a commission was given for a seventh. It was finished in March of 1885 and given its première in London the next month. While it was a rousing success, Dvořák was offered for it only one half of what he usually received from his publisher, and one fifth of what Brahms was given for a symphony. In the end, the composer was vindicated by the work’s reception in history. Building upon the new and more rigorous adherence to classical tradition incorporated into his sixth symphony, as well a degree of abstractness that avoided folk elements, Symphony No. 7 is a most serious, even muscular, work. Its economy of means and rigorous development of ideas do justice to like approaches in the music of Beethoven and Brahms. There’s not an ounce of fat in it, and it is almost unremittingly reflective, with tragic moments not uncommon. It was written shortly after the death of his mother—his eldest daughter had died earlier--and he openly acknowledged that with the comment on the manuscript: “from the sad years.” This mood is only interrupted in the fast scherzo movement where the dynamic cross rhythms of the native Czech dance, the furiant—familiar from the composer’s Slavonic Dances—liven things up considerably. This work is said to have been inspired by Brahms’ third symphony, and it is pellucidly clear that Brahms should have been honored by the subsequent masterpiece.
– William E. RunyanViolin I
Gabriela da Silva Fogo‡ Thomas Roggio Maria Mendez Barbara Santiago Masayoshi Arakawa MaryKatherine Brown Stacey Sharpe Erika Sciascia MacKenzie Nies Tyler Tran Alyssa Orantes
Violin II Tomasso Bruno* Darrian Lee Angel Andres Rosalee Walsh Miranda Rojas Rebecca Masalles Alessandro Capitano Michael Mesa
Viola Jeremy Hill* Joshua Singletary Caroline Bruns Francesca Tavano Luiz Barrionuevo Hunter Sanchez Margot Elder Marina Akamatsu Anna Laldin
Ahdiayah Horton
University Symphony Orchestra Personnel
Alexander Jiménez, Music Director and Conductor Sebastian Jiménez, Assistant Conductor
Cello Marina Burguete-Diago* Aric Lee
Arabella Schwerin Katie Jo Gelasco Mitchell George Grace Lege Angelese Pepper Jenna Bachmann Bass
Nicholas Smentkowski* Alex Gay Megan Baker Alejandro Bermudez Chase Rowe Gene Waldron III Flute Pamela Bereuter* Kaitlyn Calcagino Brenna Wiinanen
Oboe Noel Seaton* Luis Gallo Nic Kanipe, E.H.
Clarinet Marissa Stanfill* Renzo DeCarlo
Bassoon Robert Alexander* Josephine Whiteis Ethan Lippert Horn Tarre Nelson* Leslie Bell
Brianna Nay Cory Kirby Jordan Perkins* Trumpet Madison Barton Vito Bell Angela King Jeremy Perkins Trombone William Roberts* Christian Estades Carter Wessinger, bass Tuba Matthew Morejon
Timpani Chris Baird
Harp Isabelle Scott
Piano/Celeste Rebecca Edmiston
Orchestra Manager Maddi Hoth
Equipment Manager Alejandro Bermudez
Administrative Assistant Amanda Frampton Librarians Sebastian Jiménez Miranda Rojas
‡ Concertmaster
* Principal / Asst Principal