For his first NJSO appearance since being named Music Director Designate, Jacques Lacombe pays homage to his native country and its rich musical heritage by adding a recent tone poem by the important Canadian composer Jacques Hétu, with whom he worked extensively. Maestro Lacombe had already added Sur les Rives du Saint-Maurice to this program when the sad news arrived of Hétu’s death in February. This weekend’s performances are thus also a gesture of homage and remembrance.

The balance of the program shows Lacombe’s command of the Viennese symphonic tradition through the performance of Brahms mighty Violin Concerto, with New Jersey favorite Jennifer Koh returning as soloist. The program concludes with Dvorák’s beloved Symphony No.9, “From the New World,” which fuses the irresistible charm of Bohemian folk dances with evocative themes that the composer heard during his American sojourn—including the unforgettable English horn solo, “Going Home,” in the slow movement.

The city of Trois-Rivières is about midway between Montreal and Quebec City, at the confluence of the St. Maurice and St. Lawrence Rivers. Its name, which means Three Rivers, derives from the two small islands at the opening of the St. Maurice, which form three mouths at the St. Lawrence. Founded in July 1634 by French explorers and missionaries, the city is one of the most historic in Canada. Only Quebec City, founded in 1608, is older; Trois-Rivières was the second permanent French settlement in the New World.

In 2009, in anticipation of the city’s 375th anniversary, the Orchestre Symphonique de Trois-Rivières (OSTR) commissioned a composition from Jacques Hétu. As one of Canada’s most prominent composers and a native son of Trois-Rivières, Hétu was the logical choice. Lacombe, who is music director of the OSTR and also a native of Trois-Rivières, was delighted—he had previously premiered three of Hétu’s compositions. Beyond the symmetry of their shared hometown, Lacombe and Hétu had developed a personal friendship as well as an excellent working relationship.

The premiere of Sur les Rives du Saint-Maurice (“On the Shores of the Saint Maurice River”) took place on September 13 in Trois-Rivières at a gala concert that was recorded and broadcast by Radio Canada. Sadly, Hétu succumbed to a long battle with cancer in February of this year. These performances, the first time the NJSO has performed Hétu’s music, are the American premiere of this important symphonic poem. Later this year, Lacombe will lead additional performances in cities including Edmonton, Montreal, Calgary and Toronto.

Sur les Rives du Saint-Maurice is an extended 15-minute movement that divides into two principal sections played without pause. A prologue and epilogue frame an historical overview of the city and its surroundings. The composer’s note in the score provides the scenario:

The music of the smithy—an iron forge—dominates the next section. The site of the forge is still in Trois-Rivières, Lacombe says. Though it is no longer in use, it drove the city’s economy in earlier times, when Trois-Rivières was a major center of the paper industry. Hétu’s use of trumpets to depict flames shooting out of the forge is highly effective.

Hétu was educated at the University of Ottawa and the Conservatory of Music and Dramatic Arts in Montreal, where he earned a first prize in composition. He worked with Lukas Foss at Tanglewood and then secured an award from the Canadian Council to study with Henri Dutilleux in Paris. His Paris sojourn also included analysis classes with Olivier Messiaen.

From 1963 to 2000, Hétu served on the faculties of Université Laval in Quebec City, University of Montreal and University of Quebec at Montreal. One of Canada’s most distinguished modern composers, he is best known for his orchestral, chamber and vocal works. In his Montreal Gazette obituary, Arthur Kaptainis wrote: “Easily recognized by his professorial beard and pipe, Hétu was a distinctive figure in other ways. In an era that prized experimentalism, he represented dedication to old-fashioned craftsmanship and a preference for traditional forms.” Peter Oundjian and the Toronto Symphony premiered Hétu’s Fifth Symphony posthumously last month.

“Sur les Rives du Saint-Maurice demonstrates Hétu's legendary sense of balance and structure,” Lacombe says. “I am proud to introduce his music to the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra audience.”

The score, which is dedicated to Lacombe, calls for piccolo, two flutes, oboe, English horn, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, triangle, suspended cymbal, tam tam, bass drum, tubular bells, harp and strings. Timing: approximately 15 minutes.

Brahms’ Violin Concerto was a triumph of the composer’s maturity, yet it did not entirely escape criticism. The 19th-century conductor and pianist Hans von Bülow said that Max Bruch had composed a concerto for the violin, while Brahms had written one against the violin. Posterity has disagreed. Musicians and audiences admire this concerto for its nobility and pathos. Brahms delivers substance and drama without sacrificing lyricism or style. The Hungarian-flavored finale is a marvel of high spirits with flashes of wit.

Two great violin concertos: comparing Beethoven and Brahms

Brahms modeled his violin concerto on Beethoven’s. He was the acknowledged successor to Beethoven in the realm of the symphony. It was logical for him to look to Beethoven’s violin concerto when considering one of his own. There is a shared atmosphere in the Brahms and Beethoven works: dignified, self-confident, supremely commanding and fully aware of its own power. Both concertos are gentle without lacking in power, more introspective than showy. The overall impression both works leave is symphonic, rather than virtuosic, and unfailingly majestic.

Inspiration from the Austrian alps

Brahms composed his concerto during the summer of 1878, one year following his sunny Second Symphony. These two works share even more in common. Both were written in the beautiful Carinthian town of Pörtschach-am-Wörthersee in the Austrian Alps. Both the symphony and the concerto are in D major and have spacious first movements in triple meter. Most important is that the two compositions enjoy a benign spirit sometimes elusive in Brahms’ music. It is comforting to know that this side of his personality existed, and that he could plumb musical depths with a contented smile on his face.

The original soloist weighs in

Brahms’ friend Joseph Joachim, one of the greatest violinists of the 19th century, had hoped for a concerto from Brahms for a long while. Brahms sent the first movement’s solo part to him in August 1878, with a report that the work would comprise four movements. Joachim was delighted, replying within days:

To me it’s a great, genuine joy that you’re writing a violin concerto (in four movements, no less!). I have immediately looked through what you sent, and here and there you’ll find a note and a comment regarding changes—without a score, of course, it can’t really be relished. Most of it is manageable, some of it even very original, violinistically. But whether it can all be played comfortably in a hot concert-hall I cannot say, before I’ve played it straight through. Any chance that one might get together for a couple of days?

They did indeed get together, and Joachim played a significant role in the evolution of both the solo part and the orchestration, recommending a reduction in forces or a thinning of texture in key places that allowed the violin to deliver its argument with more authority. Joachim wrote a cadenza that remains the one most frequently performed.

Streamlining from four movements to three

Brahms continued to work on the score throughout the autumn, eventually abandoning sketches for the two central movements in favor of a single adagio that he described—a bit coyly—as “feeble.” He sent Joachim the final score in December. Joachim played the premiere barely three weeks later, on New Year’s Day, 1879, in the Leipzig Gewandhaus. A letter written by Heinrich von Herzogenberg specifies the number of string parts that had been copied for the first performance: enough to accommodate 10 first violins, 10 seconds, six violas, six cellos and three double basses. It is a startlingly modest complement, especially given the larger orchestras that we hear in most modern performances.

MUSICIANS’ CORNER

The principal themes of all three movements in the concerto are built on triads, giving the work a strength of motivic unity that reminds the listener once again of the Beethoven model. Brahms opens with a broad orchestral exposition, taking an unusual amount of time to introduce his thematic material and build up to the soloist’s entrance. Dramatic and cadenza-like, the violin’s opening statement is in minor mode. Brahms’ mastery is evident in the way he asserts the violin’s parity with the orchestra. Throughout the powerful first movement, he reduces the ensemble to just strings, or even partial strings, to highlight a judicious contribution from the woodwinds. Without compromising the integrity of the orchestra’s material or the inherent drama of the music, the soloist is able to hold his own.

Pastoral slow movement

Brahms’ placement of his lovely slow movement in the pastoral key of F major further underscores the generally sunny disposition of this work, so obviously reflective of a peaceful summer and comparatively happy time in the composer’s life. The oboe theme at the beginning of the Adagio is one of the instrument’s finest moments in the Brahms canon. A wind chorus supports it, building upon scoring ideas in his own subtle first-movement orchestration. In a stroke of genius, Brahms has his soloist depart from the theme after only three notes, tracing its own embroidery in many different fashions. Ivor Keys calls it “variation by elongation.” At the end, pizzicato triplets outlining arpeggios hint at the underpinning of the last movement.

Hungarian and Gypsy accents

Joachim’s Austro-Hungarian roots surface in the finale, which is flavored with a tinge of Gypsy rhythms and harmonies. Brahms was returning a compliment from the violinist, who had written his own Concerto in the Hungarian Manner and dedicated it to Brahms. Double stops abound in the main theme, which—like a true Viennese waltz—requires flair to deliver with just the right hesitation and plunge in rhythm. Brahms has written earthy music, a joyous dance for the people, cleverly enclosed within a rondo structure. His coda, a brisk final statement of the main idea, switches neatly to 6/8 meter and accelerates to poco più presto, introducing a merry hunting horn aspect to the concerto’s final moments.

The score calls for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, timpani, solo violin and strings. Timing: approximately 36 minutes.

Misunderstood masterpiece

“In spite of the fact that I have moved about in the great world of music, I shall remain what I have always been—a simple Czech musician.”

Dvorák’s words are uncannily apt when considering the familiar, beloved and misunderstood “New World” Symphony. Sketched and written between December 1892 and May 1893 when Dvorák had come to New York to head the new American Conservatory, the piece was ridiculed at its premiere because of its alleged incorporation of Native-American tunes. The critics did acknowledge the symphony’s individuality and its unique mesh of Czech and American elements. In fact, Dvorák never intended to directly appropriate African-American or Native-American folk song; years later, he wrote to a former student: “I have only composed in the spirit of such American national melodies.”

Connections to indigenous American music

Late in 1892, Dvorák became acquainted with America’s African-American spirituals through Henry Thacker Burleigh. Since his first visit to the United States, he had also been intensely curious about the music of the Native-American tribes. Innumerable critics have commented on the strong echoes of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” in the first movement and “Deep River” later in the work.

The result is a symphony with extraordinary and spontaneous emotional appeal. If the “New World” has its formal lapses, it amply compensates for them with rhythmic punch and a wealth of memorable, singable melodies that have made this symphony his most popular work.

Spotlight on English horn

The most famous movement is, of course, the delicious Largo, which opens with a startling series of colorful modulations from distant keys: E major to D-flat major. The immortal “Going Home” melody is believed to be Dvorák’s consideration of Longfellow’s Hiawatha as a potential opera subject. He was drawn to the legend; nothing came of that project, but his mind was clearly churning with ideas stimulated by his exposure to African-American and Native-American musical culture. His English horn solo has become one of the best-known melodies in all of classical music.

Structurally, the first movement is the strongest; its rhythmic profile manifests itself in one form or another in all of the succeeding movements. Dvorák wrote a true scherzo for this symphony rather than the Czech furiant he favored in so many other large instrumental works. And in his finale, he incorporates quotations from each of the preceding movements to cyclically unify the symphony.