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JENNIFER KOH, JONATHAN VINOCOUR, WILHELMINA SMITH & ORION WEIS

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ARTIST BIOS

Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) spent his summers in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, a coastal town neighboring his birthplace in French Basque country. He was there in 1914 working on a piano trio when France entered World War I, and he rushed to finish the score—completing what he described as “five months’ work in five weeks”—so he could enlist right away. After being refused on medical grounds, the 39-year-old composer was eventually assigned to drive an ambulance, and he completed no new composition until 1917.

For Ravel, who never composed a symphony and who only wrote his first concertos near the end of his life, chamber music was a prime vehicle for exploring the formal models from earlier eras that he loved so much. The first movement of the Piano Trio merges the Classical sonata-allegro form with themes redolent of Basque folk music, a trait evident in the syncopated phrases first introduced by the piano. Ravel categorized the Scherzo-like second movement as a Pantoum, a poetic form originally from Malaysia that was embraced by Baudelaire and other French poets. The same melodic contours from the Pantoum, slowed down and relocated to the piano’s left hand, form the basis of the Passacaille, the French equivalent of a Passacaglia (a Baroque technique that builds variations over an unchanging, cyclical theme). In the Animé finale, Ravel’s gift for orchestration maximizes the compact ensemble: Artificial harmonics, string-crossing passages, tremolos, strummed chords, trills and double-stops in the violin and cello all support the robust piano part to create a sound as colorful and varied as an orchestra.

Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904) was born in a small Bohemian village, where his father was the local butcher and innkeeper and also an amateur zither player. As a young man, Dvořák’s musical career involved him in all manner of music-making in Prague: He accompanied church services from the organ, played viola in a dance band and in the local opera orchestra, taught piano lessons, and kept up his composing on the side. He might have spent the rest of his life as a cash-strapped freelance musician had it not been for the intervention of a most influential champion, Johannes Brahms. On Brahms’ recommendation the publisher Simrock commissioned Dvořák in 1878, and the resulting Slavonic Dances catapulted the Czech composer onto the international stage. 

Dvořák’s Piano Trio in F Minor, composed in the spring of 1883, capped a flurry of chamber music. It came at a time when Dvořák was finally gaining widespread recognition and international commissions, leading him to re-evaluate his musical language and national identity. Would he be a Czech composer, celebrating his local language and culture? Or would he assimilate into the wider German stream of music, where he could follow in the footsteps of Brahms, Schumann and Beethoven? This trio leans toward the Germanic mode of expression; from the first exposed phrases for violin and cello, the manner is taut and severe, extracting maximum expression from compact motives. Only the finale introduces a hint of Czech flavor, with shifting rhythms reminiscent of the furiant folk dance.