Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center May 18 Program by Tilles Center for the Performing Arts

Sunday, May 18, 2025 at 3 pm

An afternoon with

DAVID FINCKEL, WU HAN, AND CHAD HOOPES

Chamber music is made possible, in part, by The Honorable Roger B. Tilles

WU HAN Piano

CHAD HOOPES

Violin

DAVID FINCKEL

Cello

PROGRAM

TARTINI

17’

MOZART

12’

MENDELSSOHN

25’

Sonata in G minor for Violin and Continuo, “Devil’s Trill” (before 1756)

Andante

Allegro

Andante—Allegro

HOOPES, WU HAN

Sonata in E minor for Violin and Piano, K. 304 (1778)

Allegro

Tempo di Menuetto

HOOPES, WU HAN

Sonata in D major for Cello and Piano, Op. 58 (1843)

Allegro assai vivace

Allegretto scherzando

Adagio

Molto allegro e vivace

FINCKEL, WU HAN

INTERMISSION

SMETANA

28’

Trio in G minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 15 (1855, rev. 1857)

Moderato assai

Allegro, ma non agitato—Alternativo I: Andante

Alternativo II: Maestoso

Finale: Presto

WU HAN, HOOPES, FINCKEL

Minor tonalities are seldom found in Mozart’s instrumental works. Of all his symphonies and piano sonatas, just two of each form are in minor keys, and the Sonata for Violin and Piano, K. 304, is the only minor-key violin sonata of the nearly three dozen that he wrote. The somber tonality, eerie opening motif, and melancholy minuet are so uncharacteristic of Mozart that they lead many to draw hasty conclusions about the influence of certain life events on this composition. After being unceremoniously dismissed from his employment at the Salzburg court in the summer of 1777, Mozart set out to find a job elsewhere, accompanied by his mother. He was unsuccessful in securing a post in Munich and Mannheim, and at his father’s insistence, he and his mother continued on to Paris in the early spring of 1778. In June of that year, Mozart’s mother fell ill and passed away shortly thereafter, on July 3. From the available evidence, scholars cannot date the K. 304 sonata any more precisely than the early summer of 1778. While it provides a convenient explanation for the uncharacteristically bleak character of the piece, his mother’s death could very well have come after its composition. Interpretations of this work that are unequivocally centered around grief ought to be approached with a degree of skepticism as they prevent the listener from appreciating the full spectrum of emotions explored and evoked.

Like several other sonatas published in the same set, K. 304 is in two movements. The Allegro’s primary theme is played first in hollow octaves, giving the already gloomy E-minor melody an unsettlingly bare quality. The bouncy second theme dispels the darkness of the opening with jaunty dotted rhythms and a shift to the major mode. The quintessentially Mozartean playfulness here is hard to reconcile with the traditional “grieving son” interpretation of the sonata. The stormy energy of the development that follows bleeds into the recapitulation, which trades the sparse texture of the opening for a bold conclusion.

A similar arc is heard in the Tempo di menuetto, which begins with a piano solo marked sotto voce. Literally translating to “under the breath,” this instruction refers not only to a reduction in volume but also to the hushed tone quality that is desired, akin to a string player using a mute. The violin quickly restates the piano’s introspective melody at a forte (loud) dynamic level, brightening the wistful introduction. The E-major middle section is marked dolce—another term that means more than just “quietly” and encompasses qualities like sweet (its literal meaning), soft, and warm. The piano’s chorale-like passage is a textural novelty, with a layered and rich— albeit quiet—sound. The first theme returns to close out the piece, this time agitated by triplet arpeggios in a driving, forte finish.

Program note © Jack Slavin

Sonata in D major for Cello and Piano, Op. 58

FELIX MENDELSSOHN

Born February 3, 1809, in Hamburg

Died November 4, 1847, in Leipzig

Composed in 1843

Duration: 25 minutes

Felix Mendelssohn lived from 1809 to 1847, making him a close contemporary of the likes of Frédéric Chopin (1810–1849) and Robert Schumann (1810–1856). While the latter two are labeled as strictly Romantic composers, the Classical influence on Mendelssohn’s writing

is too strong to ignore. Much of his oeuvre stays true to the formal structures and elegant balance of the Classical period while exploring the colorful harmonic language, emotive range, and virtuosic limits of the Romantic style. The Sonata in D major for Cello and Piano, one of his finest late-career works, exemplifies this confluence of musical traditions in its expressive scope and equal partnership between cello and piano. The work pays homage to earlier composers—explicitly in the case of Bach and more broadly to the likes of Beethoven and Mozart—while its visionary approach all but anticipates the later Romantic sonatas of Brahms.

The cello opens the Allegro assai vivace with a bold, sweeping theme supported by steady eighth-notes in the piano. The roles reverse rather quickly as the piano picks up the main melody and hands the eighth-note accompaniment to the cello, establishing parity early on between the players. They trade snippets of the lyrical second subject whose gentle lilt contrasts with the authoritative opening. An undercurrent of swift arpeggios fuels the drama of the development, which eventually yields to a sunny return of the tonic key.

The witty first theme of the Allegretto scherzando is introduced in the right hand of the piano, and then reiterated in an imitative fashion across all three voices: first the cello—whose pizzicato (plucked) technique’s twangy attack befits the bouncy tune—followed by the right hand, and finally the left hand of the piano. The depth of the cello’s warm tone is on full display in the contrastingly lush and flowing second theme. The opening melody sneaks quietly out of this mellifluous soundscape, but is quickly amplified by pulsing octaves in the piano, accented notes, and a sempre fortissimo (always loud) directive. After this glimpse into the stormy Beethoven-esque scherzo, the movement fizzles out with the players alternating fragments of its themes.

The rolled chords of the Adagio’s piano introduction are a clear nod to the chorales of J. S. Bach, whose music Mendelssohn was instrumental in reviving in the 19th century. There is more than a vague textural similarity; scholars have noted parallels between this opening and the aria “Es ist vollbracht” from Bach’s St. John Passion. The cello complements this serene accompaniment with a melody that is almost extemporaneous in nature, meandering from one poignant utterance to the next.

The calm of the Adagio is abruptly cut short by the sharply accented chords, chromatic sixteenth-note runs, and mounting tension of the finale’s first theme. Out of this ominous opening Mendelssohn spins a rather cheerful secondary subject. As the two themes vie for prominence throughout the development, the instruments never do; instead, great care is taken to ensure the equal division of musical material—a hallmark of the Romantic era’s duo sonatas.

Program note © Jack Slavin

Trio in G minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 15

BED Ř ICH SMETANA

Born March 2, 1824, in Leitomischl, Bohemia

Died May 12, 1884, in Prague

Composed in 1855, revised in 1857

Duration: 28 minutes

On February 6, 1855, Bedřich Smetana conducted his first concert in Prague, at which he premiered his first (and what would be his only) symphony. The usual nerves on such an

occasion had been exacerbated by unforeseen logistical stressors when a production of Wagner’s Tannhäuser accidentally booked a performance in Prague the same evening. Scheduling rehearsals became a nightmare and a soloist had to cancel after discovering he was now double-booked. Smetana’s wife, Kateřina, noted in her diary that despite the feelings of frustration, the mood was lifted by the excitement of Bedřiška, their four-yearold child, whom they had brought because she displayed early signs of musical interest and talent. The evening would soon take on a somber new significance when Bedřiška died of scarlet fever just seven months later. “This concert, given by her father, was to be Bedřiška’s first and last!” her mother reflected. “How quietly and cheerfully she sat through the whole long concert. . . . When her father came on to the stage to conduct the symphony, she stood up to see him and she remained standing, listening attentively. When it lasted too long for her, she sat down again and waited patiently for the end of the symphony.” Tragically, this was not the first loss for the couple, as another daughter had died the previous year from tuberculosis.

The family was gutted by this compound affliction, and Smetana responded by pouring out his grief in the Trio in G minor. It is a work of raw emotion and heartbreaking beauty, completed within just two months of Bedřiška’s death. The composer interpreted the reception by the public as largely negative, recollecting years later, “In the winter of the same year, in December, it was performed in public in Prague, with myself at piano. . . . Success—nil. The critics condemned it of one accord.” It seems more likely, however, that audiences were simply overwhelmed by the unfiltered passion in the setting of a chamber work. One critic wrote that it had “more imagination than reflectiveness, more feeling than sense of form,” adding, “but your Trio is great.” A year later, Franz Liszt embraced Smetana upon hearing a performance. Sadly, the period of loss was not over, but would stretch into a five-year epoch of sorrow as a third daughter died in infancy, and his beloved wife would contract tuberculosis and die in 1859.

Breaking the silence at the opening of the piece is a cry from the violin, soon girded by a plodding repetition of chords in the piano, perhaps reflecting the incessantness of grief. The musical lines are perpetually drawn downward, nodding to the centuries-old musical symbolism of descending lines to represent sadness. A more lyrical second theme breaks through, as if sweet memories are being clasped, but at the end of the development section comes a drifting pause and a jarring return of the opening violin lament. These two contrasting emotions vie with each other until the last bar of the movement. In the second movement, the mood shifts to melancholy nostalgia. Playing out like vignettes of life, it is structured as a scherzo with two different trio sections that Smetana inventively calls “Alternativo” I and II. Filled with moments of anguished yearning, it concludes with fading pizzicatos (plucked notes) hanging in the air. In the Finale, Smetana uses a modified rondo form, toggling mainly between two thematic centers (the movement’s structure is A–B–A–B–C–B–A) rather than constantly introducing a new idea. In this way he harnesses the structure as a battlefield for his emotions and maximizes the impact when a new theme arrives: the only full expression of a funeral march. It is followed by the lyrical B theme, now transformed into a soaring, willfully triumphant song that carries the work to its conclusion, punctuated by a brief reminiscence of the A theme.

Program note © Kathryn Bacasmot

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