ASCENDING

Composed 2011, by Siamak Aghaei (b. 1974) and Colin Jacobsen (b. 1978).

Imagine a story thousands of years old brought to the orchestral stage by way of an instrument made of bone - that’s the story behind the first work on our program, Ascending Bird by Colin Jacobsen and Siamak Aghaei, arranged for full orchestra by Michael P. Atkinson. The version of Ascending Bird on our program is the result of multiple collaborations in various locations over many years.

The inspiration for Ascending Bird comes from an exchange between American and Iranian musicians. This exchange was facilitated by the ensemble Silkroad, founded by cellist Yo-Yo Ma in 1998 with the initial purpose of bringing musicians from the lands of the Silk Road together to create new music. In 2004, Colin Jacobsen, an American violinist, was visiting the home of Iranian santur (Persian hammered dulcimer) virtuoso Siamak Aghaei, who traveled Iran recording folk musicians. There, Aghaei played a field recording of an Iranian folk melody, performed on an instrument made of bird bones.

The folk melody tells the story of a mythical bird and its attempt to achieve the “radiant embrace of the sun.” The bird’s first two attempts to reach the sun result in failure, but on the third attempt the bird loses its physical body and achieves spiritual transcendence; this became the basis for the original Ascending Bird. That early collaboration was a piece for strings, percussion, and santur, which also existed as a version for string quartet. Though the piece uses Western instruments and no altered scales, the composers create a sense of Persian tonality through grace note ornamentation.

In the orchestral arrangement, the flute and wind instruments add their voices both for color and intensity, mirroring the melody in the violins and reinforcing the rhythmic build up to the end. The rhythmic intensity and dramatic pauses represent the three attempts. This version transfers all of the instrumentation to the traditional “Western” orchestra, as it no longer includes the santur, but it continues the character of the original piece.

Just like the mythical bird that inspired this piece, Ascending Bird continues to be reborn and spread its message of spiritual transcendence through collaboration and persistence.

Note by Fletcher Forehand

Composed 1785 by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 - 1791)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor, K. 466, composed in 1785, stands as one of the most dramatic and emotionally charged works in his concerto output. Written during a remarkably productive period in Vienna, the concerto departs from the elegance and balance often associated with Mozart, embracing instead a darker, more turbulent expressive world. The choice of D minor—a key Mozart reserved for moments of profound intensity—places the work alongside other deeply serious compositions, such as his Requiem.

The first movement (Allegro) opens with a restless orchestral introduction, immediately establishing an atmosphere of tension and unease. Syncopated rhythms, stark dynamic contrasts, and urgent harmonic shifts create a sense of instability. When the piano enters, it does not simply echo the orchestra but responds with heightened drama and virtuosity. The dialogue between soloist and ensemble is unusually confrontational, as if two voices are struggling for resolution.

In striking contrast, the second movement (Romance) shifts to the radiant key of B-flat major. Here, Mozart provides a lyrical and serene respite from the storm. The piano sings a gentle, ornamented melody over a delicate orchestral accompaniment, evoking a sense of intimacy and grace. Yet this calm is interrupted by a sudden shift to G minor in a central episode, where agitated rhythms and darker harmonies briefly reintroduce tension before the opening tranquility is restored.

The final movement (Allegro assai) returns decisively to D minor, propelled by a driving, almost relentless energy. The principal theme begins with an explosive rising motive of arpeggiated 8th notes (often referred to as the Mannheim Rocket) that is urgent and insistent throughout. As the movement unfolds, moments of brilliance and lyricism emerge, but the underlying intensity remains. In a surprising turn, the concerto concludes in D major, transforming the earlier darkness into a triumphant resolution.

Note by the soloist, Adam Haas

Composed 1882 by Max Bruch (1838 - 1920)

Aside from his Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor and Scottish Fantasy, Max Bruch’s three mature symphonies (excluding the one he composed at age fourteen) remain relatively obscure among modern audiences. Some critics have attributed this to a lack of harmonic depth and forward progression since he actively avoids staying in a minor key for too long. However, Bruch was not writing with posterity in mind, but rather to serve the tastes and expectations of his German audiences and Romantic era contemporaries.

The Symphony No. 3 in E Major was commissioned by the New York Philharmonic in 1882 as Bruch was concluding his tenure as conductor of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society. Letters to his colleagues reveal that this three-year position proved strenuous, due in part to the governing committee’s tendency to allocate a significant portion of its resources to high-profile prima donnas rather than to the solo musicians whom Bruch wanted to showcase. He writes to one, “There are too many cooks on the committee and I don’t have to tell you that they very often put too much salt in the porridge. I was so annoyed by the stupidity of these wretched cotton-merchants…”

It is tempting to imagine that Bruch composed his Symphony No. 3 while longing for a return to his German homeland, where he felt his work would be more fully appreciated. He himself described the piece as “a work of life, of joy.” Suggesting that it be titled On the Rhine in reference to the river that runs through Cologne, Germany, where Bruch was born and raised. Beyond its joyful and singable melodies, the symphony invites listeners into a world colored by nostalgia and reflection, qualities that unfold across its four movements.

The first movement, Andante sostenuto – Allegro molto vivace, opens with a broad and somewhat mysterious introduction. This slow opening establishes an atmosphere of anticipation before giving way to an energetic Allegro in which we hear Bruch’s talents for orchestration.

The star of the symphony, the second movement, Adagio ma non troppo, forms the emotional heart of the work. Marked by its introspective character, it features long, arching melodies that unfold with a sense of quiet longing. This movement is particularly moving, and showcases Bruch’s ability to create a feeling of nostalgia with his thoughtful harmonies and sensitive instrumentation.

In contrast, the third movement, Scherzo: Molto vivace, with its lightness and playfulness, is where Bruch’s talents for writing memorable and singable melodies really shines. Surely, the themes in this movement attest to his deep interest in folk music, which he believed to be the “basis for all melodic invention.” We hear this dispersed throughout the movement, from beginning to end.

The final movement, Allegro energico, provides a strong and confident conclusion. Driven by bold themes and vigorous orchestration, it builds toward a triumphant ending. While some critics believe this movement lacks a sense of direction by leading the audience to many false resolutions, Bruch’s careful construction ensures that the symphony closes with intention and unity, reinforcing its overarching grandeur.

Note by Jenna Hunt