Концертний зал Людкевича
220–700
Performers:
Program:
July 1829, the Isle of Mull, Inner Hebrides. The twenty-year-old Felix Mendelssohn writes home to Berlin: “To give you an idea of how deeply the Hebrides affected me, here is what came to mind there.” What follows are twenty-one measures of musical notation — the opening of the overture we will hear at the concert.
The next day, he and a friend sailed by steamer to the tiny island of Staffa to see Fingal’s Cave. Mendelssohn was seasick, and according to his diary, the cave itself left little impression. Yet the music had already been born — from the waves, the wind, the sense of vast space above the water. Although the overture’s conception came easily, Mendelssohn struggled with it for three years. As late as 1832, he complained to his sister that the music lacked “the taste of butter, seagulls, and dead fish.” Today, we know this work as the most precise musical portrait of the sea: from the undulating low-string theme to the melancholic clarinet solo, which sounds like a distant memory.
From the cold sea to a sunny dream of Ukraine. At the heart of the program is the world premiere of the Concerto for Violin and Viola by renowned composer Maksym Kolomiets, winner of the First All-Ukrainian Myroslav Skoryk Competition, titled “Valley of Seven Suns.” Soloists: Andriy Pavlov and Ustym Zhuk.
The composer explains that this image came to him in a dream many years ago: a valley overhung by seven blazing stars, glowing with gold and green, with incredible colors, transparent air, and an endless horizon. It is a metaphor for Ukraine and its dreamed-of future: peaceful, calm, and flourishing. These are our highest hopes for the country, nurtured within despite everything. The piece was composed alongside another of Kolomiets’ works — “The Garden of Lost Dreams” — forming a kind of diptych or paired musical painting.
The evening concludes with Johannes Brahms’ Fourth Symphony, his final symphony. Ten years separate the First from the Fourth, and this work serves as the summation of his journey. Its premiere in Meiningen was met with enthusiasm, while discerning Vienna received it coolly, finding it too complex. The first movement grows from a simple interval into majestic waves of sound. The second movement sounds archaic, like a shadow of inevitable fate (Brahms employed the medieval Phrygian mode here). The third movement is an unusual Brahmsian scherzo, full of restless energy.
But the most important occurs in the finale. It is a passacaglia: a theme from a Bach cantata repeats around thirty times, each time varied. This colossal structure is remarkable — for the first time, Brahms omits a coda. There is no triumph, no joy, no radiant chords. What remains is silence.