JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat Major, Op. 83 (1881)
Brahms’s much-quoted, tongue-in-cheek quip describes this epic piano concerto as “a tiny, tiny pianoforte concerto, with a tiny, tiny wisp of a scherzo.” It followed the First Piano Concerto by 22 years—a very long hiatus, indeed—but perhaps understandable, as his first effort in the genre was less than successful at the time. But much like the First Piano Concerto, the four movements of this concerto seem to approach the dimensions of a symphony. (In fact, in another famous quip, the irascible music critic Eduard Hanslick called the concerto “a symphony with piano obbligato.”) Full at once of nobility, lyricism, and brilliance, the concerto is also monstrously challenging to perform and demands not only interpretive power, but sheer stamina (though it should be remembered that Brahms was not an advocate of technical virtuosity as an end in itself). Brahms was the soloist at the premiere, which was conducted by the renowned Hans von Bülow. Brahms begins with a brass fanfare or motif—answered with great beauty by the piano—that becomes the source material for much of the first movement’s power. There is plenty of excitement as you watch the hands of the soloist leap across the keyboard and pile up rich chords in the process. The “wisp” of the scherzo is anything but; instead, it is a stormy, dramatic statement. The Andante features a gorgeous cello solo and provides moments of tenderness and lyricism. And the finale’s marking of “Allegretto grazioso” sums up perfectly the surprisingly light but dazzling conclusion, in which some listeners have heard suggestions of the Hungarian gypsy music Brahms so often gravitated to—perhaps a nod to Budapest, the place of the premiere?

FRANZ LISZT (1811-1886)
From the Cradle to the Grave (1881-82)
Franz Liszt had a remarkable life and reputation as a major figure in the Romantic movement and a Casanova. He was a flamboyant piano virtuoso whose swooning groupies included high-society ladies; he invented the solo piano recital (as well as performing from memory and the now-traditional in-profile position at the keyboard—the better to show off his good looks and flowing hair); he was Richard Wagner’s father-in-law; and, finally mending his wicked ways, he took minor religious orders late in life. Of particular relevance to this concert is his invention of the symphonic poem (aka tone poem), a type of programmatic music that broke the bonds of the traditional symphonic form and depicts a non-musical subject; in fact, many of Liszt’s 13 symphonic poems have literary, dramatic, or mythological inspirations (the most famous being Les Préludes, but also Orpheus, Prometheus, Hamlet, Tasso). From the Cradle to the Grave, however, was inspired by a drawing by the Hungarian artist Count Mihály Zichy (1827-1906). Liszt depicts three stages of life: “The Cradle” (an orchestration of an earlier piano piece called “Cradle Song”) features high strings, flutes, and harp—with violas suggesting a gentle cradle-rocking motion; “The Fight for Existence,” as its name suggests, speaks in Liszt’s more forceful, grandiose style, and at its end a timpani outburst soon retreats to end softly, as if to prepare for the last section; and “To the Grave: the Cradle of the Future Life,” which begins as a lament but returns to the ethereal sonorities of the opening andante. In a most remarkable ending, the texture of the composition becomes sparser and sparser—as if hanging on to the thread of life—and breathes its last as the cellos fade into silence.

ALEXANDER SCRIABIN (1872-1915)
The Poem of Ecstasy (Symphony No. 4) (1908)
Never short on ego, Scriabin felt he was a visionary who saw himself as a messiah, and whose new musical language would transform the world. He developed a passion for mysticism after having fallen under the influence of Madame Helena Petrova Blavatsky (1831-91), who promulgated the teachings of theosophy (knowledge of the divine). Scriabin’s lifelong obsession with mystical philosophy inspired his works, which combined eccentricity, experimentation, and imagination to create shimmering canvases of extraordinary orchestral colors. He is also identified with several off-beat artistic concepts: he was endowed with synesthesia, where the stimulation in one sense evokes the sensation of another (for example, hearing a sound or note produces the visualization of a color); the color organ (a keyboard instrument that would project colors evoked by and synchronized with the notes being played); the mystic chord (C, F-sharp, B-flat, E, A, D), which symbolizes primordial chaos; and his projected but unfulfilled Mysterium, a grand unified work of art combining music, dancing, colors, and ambient perfume—to be performed in the Himalayas by thousands of white-garbed musicians over the course of seven days. He never lived to see the project come to fruition, but The Poem of Ecstasy was a step in the evolution towards “Mysterium.” The second part of a trilogy The Divine Poem—Symphony No. 3 and Prometheus, Poem of Fire are the first and third parts. Scriabin’s sensuous tone poem progresses from longing to an orgiastic pitch of ecstasy. It is divided into three sections: “1) his [Scriabin’s] soul in the orgy of love; 2) the realization of a fantastic dream, and 3) the glory of his own art.” The Epilogue is a powerful and triumphant statement that features orchestral bells and organ. Sensing that traditional tempo markings would fall short of his musical vision, Scriabin chose novel instructions to the conductor, such as molto languido (“as languid as possible”), très parfumé (“very perfumed”), avec une noble et joyeuse émotion (“with a lofty and joyous emotion”), avec une volupté de plus en plus extatique (“with a sensual pleasure ever more ecstatic”), and charmé (“beguiled”). The Poem of Ecstasy is a musical interpretation of Scriabin’s long mystical poem of the same name, which ends with the words, “I am a moment illuminating eternity....I am affirmation...I am ecstasy.”

Riccardo Muti was born in Naples, Italy, where he studied piano at the Conservatory of San Pietro a Majella under Vincenzo Vitale, graduating with distinction. He was subsequently awarded a diploma in composition and conducting by the Conservatory “Giuseppe Verdi,” Milan. He first came to the attention of critics and the public in 1967, when he was unanimously awarded first place in the Guido Cantelli Conductors Competition in Milan. The following year he was appointed principal conductor of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, a position he maintained until 1980. In 1971 he was invited by Herbert von Karajan to conduct at the Salzburg Festival, the first of many occasions that led, in 2001, to a celebration of 30 years of artistic collaboration.

During the 1970s Mr. Muti was the London Philharmonia’s chief conductor (1972–82), succeeding Otto Klemperer. In 1980 he succeeded Eugene Ormandy as music director of The Philadelphia Orchestra, where he remained until 1992. From 1986 to 2005 he was music director of Milan’s Teatro alla Scala, overseeing projects such as the Mozart-Da Ponte Trilogy and the Wagner Ring Cycle, in addition to bringing many less-performed and neglected works to light. His long tenure culminated on December 7, 2004, in the re-opening of the restored La Scala, with Salieri’s Europa riconosciuta, originally commissioned for La Scala’s inaugural opening night performance in 1778.

Over the course of his career, Riccardo Muti has conducted most of the world’s important orchestras, including the Berlin Philharmonic, Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, Orchestre National de France, and the Vienna Philharmonic, an orchestra with which he has particularly close ties, and with which he has appeared at the Salzburg Festival since 1971. In April 2003 the French national radio channel, France Musique, broadcast a “Journée Riccardo Muti,” comprising 14 hours of his operatic and symphonic recordings. On December 14, 2003, he conducted the opening concert of the newly-renovated opera house “La Fenice” in Venice. In 2004 Mr. Muti founded the “Luigi Cherubini” Youth Orchestra comprising young musicians selected by an international committee from 600 instrumentalists throughout Italy. With the Cherubini Orchestra he is leading a five-year project dedicated to the Neapolitan School of the 18th century for the Salzburg Whitsun Festival.

On May 5, 2008, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Association appointed Mr. Muti as its tenth music director; he will begin his five-year contract in September 2010. In the same season he will start as director of the Rome Opera House. Riccardo Muti’s last appearance with the New York Philharmonic was in November 2009. He is scheduled to return on April 14–17, 2010. For more information, visit www.riccardomuti.com.

LEIF OVE ANDSNES
Piano, born in 1970 on Karmøy Island, Norway
Leif Ove Andsnes’s recording of Mozart Piano Concertos Nos. 17 and 20 with the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra, which he conducted from the keyboard, received a Grammy nomination for Best Instrumental Soloist Performance with Orchestra. It is his 7th. Making music was a part of everyday life in his family, because his parents both were music teachers. Having lived on an island off the coast of Norway, he “didn’t grow up with a lot of musicians around me, so it felt like a lonely thing to play the piano. There was a period when I was 12 or 13 that I didn’t want to practice. I just wanted to play football with my friends, like other kids. But I soon felt that the piano was a world unto itself. … I never regretted choosing the piano.” When he was 15 he moved to mainland Norway to study at the Bergen Conservatory. Fast forward to 2006: he premiered the piano concerto composed for him by Marc-André Dalbavie to great acclaim and has now recorded it, paired with Witold Lutosławski’s Piano Concerto. In addition to his concertizing, Leif Ove Andsnes is co-artistic director of the annual Risør Chamber Music Festival (among the top 10 festivals in the world, says The New York Times), held in a small fishing village in southeast Norway. In his free time, he relaxes at his mountain home in Norway’s western Hardanger area with a view of a glacier. “When I get up there, the rhythm of my pulse goes down, and I leave all the stress and pressure behind. It is a wonderful place to study and recharge my batteries.” And if Leif Ove Andsnes not only sounds good, but looks good too, it could be because of his stylish concert attire, provided by designer Issey Miyake.

“Andsnes would be a dazzling pianist even if forced to play Chopsticks.” (Times (London))

“Andsnes has a delicate touch and a wonderful sensibility; his virtuosity is always linked to his superb interpretive abilities.” (Saint Louis Post-Dispatch)

“Mr. Andsnes gave a typically lovely performance, playing with rippling passagework and, when called for, rhythmic bite, shaping lines sensitively and conveying ennobled sadness.” (The New York Times)