Back in 1986, when I was first developing an interest in classical music, I saw the Jupiter Symphony perform at Town Hall under the baton of the late Jens Nygaard. Though I don't remember much about the performance after all this time, I still have a fond recollection of Mr. Nygaard's enthusiasm as he addressed the audience. Afterwards I lost track of the orchestra and assumed that it had long ago disbanded. It was not until I spoke with a Mannes violin student during intermission at a recent concert at Carnegie Hall that I learned members of the orchestra had continued as a chamber ensemble in tribute to their departed and much loved conductor. On Monday afternoon I attended a matinee at Good Shepherd Church on West 66th Street where these talented musicians performed several little known works from the chamber repertoire.
The program began with the Octet in E flat, Op. 96 (1817) by the obscure Bohemian composer Anton Reicha. This was the first time I'd heard any of Reicha's music, and what little I know about his life and work I discovered on Wikipedia. If he is remembered at all today it is primarily as a lifelong friend of Beethoven and later as an instructor at the Conservatoire de Paris where he taught Liszt, Berlioz and Gounod. That he is so overlooked today is mostly Reicha's own doing. He steadfastly refused to allow his works to be published and would not perform them himself. He wrote:
"Many of my works have never been heard because of my aversion to seeking performances [...] I counted the time spent in such efforts as lost, and preferred to remain at my desk."
What's really fascinating about this composer is the extent to which he carried his musical experimentation and in so doing anticipated a number of techniques fundamental to modern twentieth century music. In his 1803 treatise Practische Beispiele, for example, he was already exploring the principles of bitonality and polyrhythm. Even so, the Octet is not a particularly distinguished piece of music, at least not to my ears. For one thing, though the instrumentation is evenly divided between strings and winds, the strings are almost inaudible in many sections of the work while the winds dominate the sound.
The next piece was the Chanson perpétuelle, Op. 37 (1898) a plaintive song written by Ernest Chausson based on a poem by Charles Cros. Although best known in its orchestral version, the composer also completed the present arrangement for soprano, piano and string quartet. This was Chausson's last finished work before he died, at only age 44, as the result a bicycle accident the following year and is representative of his mature period after he had broken from the influence of Massenet and Wagner. In the song, sung in twelve stanzas, the narrator laments the loss of her lover as she makes plans to kill herself by drowning. It is a very lyrical work and was sung movingly here by soprano Gina Cuffari who is also well known as a bassoonist affiliated with a number of major ensembles in the New York area.
After intermission, the program concluded with the Piano Quintet in F minor (1878) by César Franck. This almost impressionistic work is extremely personal and indeed can be viewed as a confession of the composer's romantic infatuation with one of his students. Perhaps for this reason the work was intensely disliked not only by Franck's wife but also by its dedicatee Saint-Saëns who played the work at its premiere in 1880 but who was so infuriated by the music that he refused not only the dedication but also the composer's offer of the manuscript at the end of his performance.
I was very impressed by the high quality of the musicianship shown by the Jupiter Chamber Players. It made it readily apparent why this ensemble attracts such a loyal and enthusiastic audience as that which thronged Monday's matinee and gave a standing ovation at its end. The group will be giving three more recitals on Monday evenings in June and July at another West Side church and I definitely plan to attend. They are well worth hearing.
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