≈ 2 hours · With intermission
Repertoire
Die Hebriden (The Hebrides), Op. 26
In July 1829, after the close of the London concert season, Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847) embarked on a walking tour of Scotland with his friend, the diplomat Karl Klingemann. From July 26, they were in Edinburgh, exploring the city and the surrounding highlands (a visit to Holyrood Castle became the inspiration for the composer’s “Scottish” Symphony). On August 7, they arrived at Oban on the western coast and took in an impressive view of the Hebrides, which Mendelssohn, a skilled watercolourist, documented in a pen-and-ink drawing. That day, he also wrote a letter to his family, eager to convey his impressions: “In order to make you understand how extraordinarily the Hebrides affected me, the following came into my mind there.” Underneath, he had sketched out—in piano score but already with orchestration details—the first 21 measures of what would become the concert overture Die Hebriden. A few days later, after he and Klingemann had visited the island of Staffa, where Fingal’s Cave is located, Mendelssohn confirmed in an August 11 postscript to the letter that “the best I can tell you about [it] is contained in the above music.”
Despite the ease with which the opening music had originally come to Mendelssohn, he struggled with the first draft of his overture; he completed it in 1830 but continued to revise it until 1835. He also changed his mind several times about the title, shifting from Die Hebriden to The Isles of Fingal, and back again. For the premiere performance by London’s Philharmonic Society in May 1832, the overture was called Fingals Höhle (Fingal’s Cave); it soon became popularly known by that name, and to add further confusion, a subsequent piano-duet version was also published under it. These days, the overture formally goes by Die Hebriden, with “Fingals Höhle” considered a secondary title.
The concert overture was a new genre of music in the early 19th century. A standalone piece, it is typically programmatic, that is, based on an extramusical topic as described by its title—in this case, the Hebrides. Die Hebriden is the third concert overture Mendelssohn composed, and it is an exceptionally sophisticated example. It follows the basic structure of Classical sonata form—in which the main themes are presented, developed, and recapped—but in the latter section, the themes move off in new directions, thus evolving the musical narrative. Moreover, the music doesn’t just give the impression of the Hebrides as a place, but also expresses subjective feelings and inner experience—a key principle of Romantic art.
The scene is set with musical motives that conjure up the “wide gray sea” around the Hebrides (as Klingemann described it) with the ebb and flow of waves also suggesting fluctuating emotions. Lower strings and bassoon open with a wave-like figure that soon develops into a complete melody on the violins; woodwinds continue the theme, extending it upwards, against a murmuring background. Later, cellos and bassoons emerge with the second theme, a melody that surges up from the depths like a hopeful swell, which then shifts to the violins. The original wave motive returns, now urgent, and builds to a triumphant passage.
Brass fanfares and murmuring figures lead into the middle section, during which the main themes are developed. The second melody reappears, as if a wistful memory, but soon the wave motive takes over and soon gathers energy, eventually erupting into a stormy episode. It swiftly abates, making way for the return of the opening figure in the violas and cellos. In the ensuing recap, Mendelssohn continues to evolve the material, with the first theme reaching a new peak. After it subsides, like storm clouds parting the clarinet sings the second melody, now serene and content. The peaceful respite is brief, though, as the sea suddenly becomes tumultuous again. Furiously, the music drives forward to a huge climax, which dies out immediately afterwards. Clarinet and flute, respectively, play the falling and rising phrases of the first and second themes in succession—a final wave to quietly close the overture.
Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD
Trumpet Concerto
I. Triton’s Trumpet
II. Ballad
III. Rondo
John Estacio (b. 1966) composed his Trumpet Concerto in celebration of Canada’s Sesquicentennial in 2017. Commissioned by an unprecedented consortium of 19 Canadian orchestras, the piece was given its world premiere by Larry Larson, then principal trumpet of the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony, on March 26 that year. The concerto has since been recorded by trumpeter Marc Geujon and the Orchestre symphonique de Mulhouse with conductor Jacques Lacombe, and appears on the album Proclamation, which was released in 2022. Tonight’s performance is the NAC Orchestra’s premiere of the piece, featuring Principal Trumpet Karen Donnelly as the soloist.
Entitled “Triton’s Trumpet”, the substantial first movement (approximately half the entire concerto’s length) “takes its inspiration from the Greek myth about Poseidon’s son, Triton, who used his conch shell as a trumpet to calm or raise the ocean waters,” says Estacio in his program note. As he describes:
The movement begins in a tranquil state and features a lyrical and florid cadenza for the solo trumpet over sustained tremulous strings. An undercurrent of disturbance by the lower brass warns that this tranquility could be disrupted but is calmed by the mellifluous tones of the trumpet.
After this introduction, the movement shifts into a lively episode—Triton playing with the ocean’s waves, perhaps, as evoked by the virtuosic passages for the soloist. The waters, though, threaten to overwhelm, and “gradually”, explains Estacio, “the discordance in the depths of the orchestra eventually takes over and builds to a giant wave of sound and energy, almost overpowering the soloist.” However, about halfway through the movement, the soloist, as with Triton, eventually calms the waters and the tranquil music from the opening reappears, albeit in a slightly disquieting setting. The opening themes are developed with solos for the clarinets before the trumpet takes over with a revision of the opening cadenza.
Soon, “ominous tones once again overtake the tranquil mood”, and in another fast-paced section, the orchestral wave builds again. The solo trumpet manages to calm the waters once more, but only for a moment, as it’s “suddenly thrust into a more fervent tempo that eventually builds to a swirl of chaos and incivility that threatens to overtake it” at the movement’s close.
“Ballad”, the middle movement, “features extended lyrical phrases for the solo trumpet.” Strings open with “a primary melody that feels somewhat unsettled and ungrounded,” which then becomes an undulating backdrop to the trumpet’s song. “A solemn chorale played by the winds follows”; this, Estacio points out, “will eventually transform and become the driving force behind a regal-sounding climax.” It subsides to contemplative musings by the trumpet, which draw the movement to an atmospheric conclusion.
“A spirited foil to the first movement,” the third movement begins with the trumpet playing a “quixotic melody that will be reprised throughout this mercurial kaleidoscope of energy, colour, and fanfare,” notes Estacio. As per rondo form, this recurring melody alternates with extended episodes: the first features a vigorous turning melody, introduced by orchestra then taken up by the soloist; the second, tolling bells and wide leaps in the brass, with solo trumpet triggering the orchestral trumpets in an echoing fanfare. The turning melody is then further developed, eventually building—through powerful leaps on solo trumpet and brass over scurrying strings—to an exuberant reprise of the main melody. Suddenly, the orchestra halts on shuddering strings, over which the trumpet sings a rhapsodic recitative, then brings the concerto to a raucous finish.
Program note compiled, edited, and written by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD
Orawa
Wojciech Kilar (1932–2013) is one of Poland’s major modern composers. He was particularly well-known for his film scores, working with notable directors of Polish cinema such as Kazimierz Kutz and Krzystztof Zanussi, and on English-language movies, including Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), Death and the Maiden (1994), and The Portrait of a Lady (1996). He also created a distinctive corpus of concert works that encompasses symphonic and choral music, as well as solo instrumental and chamber pieces. Taken together, they reveal Kilar’s stylistic evolution: from using avant-garde and experimental techniques during the 1960s, to a strongly nationalistic aesthetic incorporating folk elements from the mid-1970s, to finally, a turn to religious subjects—inspired by his deep Catholic faith—for his late works.
Kilar was long fascinated with the Tatras, a group of mountains that form a natural border between Poland and Slovakia. According to Polish musicologist Bogumiła Mika, he loved them because they, “more than anything else, brought him closer to God. The mountains’ mystery, mysticism, loftiness, and power reminded him of both the physical and spiritual aspects of church.” At the same time, Kilar was captivated by the way they “arouse respect and fear”, because they are inherently dangerous places. In 1974, he completed the symphonic poem Krzesany, which, in his extensive integration of highland folk music from the area, marked a significant stylistic breakthrough for him. The piece became the first of a series of Tatras-inspired works, with the fourth and last of these being Orawa, completed in 1986.
Orawa is one of Kilar’s most popular works, frequently performed internationally in its original string orchestra instrumentation as well as in arrangements for as diverse ensembles as eight cellos, 12 saxophones, and three accordions! The title refers to “the highlanders’ sheep-run, at which mountaineers dance at the end of sheep grazing,” explains Mika. In Orawa, various melodic motives drawn from mountain folk music are developed in minimalistic fashion through their repetition among the string sections, each of which (save the double basses) are divided into multiple parts. These motives also cycle through variations in dynamics, rhythm, and texture, which gives the music its exuberantly hypnotic quality.
Orawa begins with a solo violin introducing the main folk-like motive of the piece, shifting between two high-low rhythmic versions, overtop pulsating accompaniment. Gradually, the rest of the instruments enter in turn, building up the texture, after which the motive undergoes a few variations. Violas on running figures lead to the second main motive—a downward flowing melody first played by solo cello. Violins then take it up, soon bringing us to another rustic tune. Later, after an energetic passage of glissandos and a measured ascent, the opening motive in its original form returns on solo violin and is soon combined with the downward flowing melody high up on other violins. The music then abruptly plunges to the deeper registers of the lower strings playing the running figures. Eventually, the violins join in and all together, the strings play a vigorous dance that gets increasingly wild and ferocious. It peaks on an ecstatic return of the main theme, now alternating with rising chromatic scales on which the orchestra seems to get stuck in a loop and must stop. But the strings regroup, singing a fervent chorale, before releasing a boisterous final shout.
Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD
Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759 “Unfinished”
I. Allegro moderato
II. Andante con moto
An aura of mystery has long surrounded the origins and history of the “unfinished” B minor symphony of Viennese composer Franz Schubert (1797–1828). In 1822, he had completed and fully orchestrated the first two movements. He had also written, in full score, the first two pages of a scherzo, possibly the third movement; their existence suggests that he had planned a four-movement symphony, but ultimately, he did not continue the project. In 1823, in gratitude to the Graz Music Society for awarding him an honorary diploma, Schubert sent his friend and leading member of the Society Anselm Hüttenbrenner these finished parts of his latest orchestral score. For reasons that remain a mystery, Hüttenbrenner kept them concealed until 1860, when he revealed them to the conductor Johann von Herbeck. Dumbfounded at the discovery, Herbeck eventually conducted the premiere of the work’s two completed movements in Vienna on December 17, 1865—37 years after the composer’s death. His efforts helped to establish Schubert internationally, with subsequent performances of the “unfinished” symphony taking place soon after in Germany, England, France, and North America.
Although there have been arguments made in support of various attempts to complete the work, the B minor symphony has endured in its two-movement form, as one of Schubert’s orchestral masterpieces. In it, he brought to fruition his own individual, subjective conception of
of Classical symphonic form (as developed by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven), thereby pushing the genre to new heights of creative expression. For one, the first movement is in B minor—a key that had, until then, been generally avoided in the symphonic literature. Schubert exploits its harmonic potential to evoke a hitherto unprecedented sense of pathos, the first of two emotional realms he juxtaposes in the movement. The Allegro moderato begins with sombre phrases, rising and falling on cellos and basses, after which violins establish and maintain a backdrop of nervous energy, as oboe and clarinet introduce a mournful tune. Sudden accented chords inject anxiety and urgency, as the music reaches an initial climax. Afterwards, bassoons and horns initiate an astonishing shift to the realm of sunny G major, featuring an assuring melody first sung by cellos over syncopated accompaniment. It’s taken up by violins, but soon peters out to a pause; then, as if suddenly afflicted, the earlier anxieties return. Later, the soothing second theme reappears, but as soon as it resolves, a loud chord brings us back immediately to the B minor realm, and the exposition is repeated.
On the third appearance of the sombre opening, we enter the central development section, where this theme is worked up into agonizing cries; listen for the extreme contrasts between those and the quiet statements of the cello melody’s syncopated accompaniment. A forceful statement of the theme on full orchestra triggers a stormy passage, with furious strings and ferocious rhythms. Gradually, the fury subsides, leading back to the recapitulation, which avoids the sombre opening and goes directly to the plaintive tune on the clarinet and oboe. The music proceeds as before, with some variation. As it comes out of the realm of the consoling melody, the sombre theme that was bypassed in the reprise now returns, and swells to a final climax. Its opening phrase is mournfully reiterated, and four chords bring this most anguished of symphonic movements to an end.
The second movement takes us far away from the angst of the first to a place of otherworldly serenity. Three shifting chords on horns and bassoons overtop a descending plucked bass line arrive at an exquisitely tender theme, sung by the violins in ethereal E major. Its peaceful progress suddenly breaks out into a forceful passage, but then, just as abruptly, returns to tranquility. The ensuing section features a poignant melody, beginning on clarinet then continuing on oboe, accompanied by gently pulsating violins and violas; the subtly shifting harmonies are a Schubertian hallmark. Soon, however, the delicate atmosphere is torn by a full-orchestra outburst, with the haunting clarinet tune now forming a mighty bass line. The theme is then quietly contemplated by the violins and cellos in counterpoint, eventually dissolving into a single repeated phrase, which returns us to the opening mood.
The themes are once again worked through but with variations; for example, the second theme now begins on oboe, and is answered by the clarinet, and at the orchestra outburst, the melody appears in the violins. Eventually, woodwinds and horns wind down the music. Out of the quiet, the violins emerge, twice, with a sustained note to which the woodwinds respond with the opening phrase of the tender melody, making a surprising harmonic shift (to the far-removed key of A-flat) at first, then back to E major, on which the movement comes to a gentle conclusion. In ending in this rarified sound world, it’s not difficult, perhaps, to consider that Schubert may have felt unable to add more to the symphony. To an extent, what he left us feels complete as is—the two movements a seemingly perfect balance of lyrical pathos and poignant serenity.
Program note by Hannah Chan-Hartley, PhD
Artists
Born in Kraków, Anna Sułkowska-Migoń won first prize at the La Maestra conducting competition in Paris in March 2022. Since then, she has appeared regularly with all the major Polish orchestras and will make further debuts in North America and Europe in the coming seasons. In 2023, she was awarded the Neeme Järvi Prize at the Gstaad Conducting Academy.
She recently made her main series debut with the Philadelphia Orchestra, with a program that included Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 and Nowowiejski’s lesser-known Overture to the Legend of the Baltic. Sułkowska-Migoń is a champion of Polish composers and conducted the 25th-anniversary performance of Penderecki’s Credo at the Oregon Bach Festival in July 2023, as well as a special concert of Weinberg and Sikora to mark the 80th Anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in April 2023.
Other highlights of the 2023–2024 season include debuts with the DSO Berlin, the National Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra, the Orchestre de Chambre de Paris, the National Arts Centre Orchestra, the Orchestre National de Lille, and the Orchestre Philharmonique de Nice. She will conduct the National Symphony Orchestra (Ireland) as part of the Cellissimo Festival in Galway with soloists Alban Gerhardt and Finghin Collins and the RTÉ Concert Orchestra.
Anna Sułkowska-Migoń is the recipient of the 2022–2024 Taki Alsop Conducting Award and was also selected as one of four conductors to participate in Powered by TCPDF (www.tcpdf.org), the Dallas Opera’s Hart Institute for Women Conductors Program in the 2022–2023 season.
As an instrumentalist, she completed her MA studies, specializing in viola, at the Fryderyk Chopin University of Music. She then completed her master's at the Krzysztof Penderecki Academy of Music in Kraków, specializing in symphonic and choral conducting.
Karen Donnelly was unanimously appointed Principal Trumpet of Canada’s National Arts Centre Orchestra in October 1999, following three successful seasons (1996–1999) as acting principal trumpet and continues to enjoy each year with this wonderful ensemble.
Before joining the NAC Orchestra, Karen was a freelancer in Montreal, where she performed with most ensembles in the area, including the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal. Karen was the principal trumpet with Orchestra London (Canada) from 1994–1996. Karen has been guest principal trumpet with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, Les Violons du Roy, the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra, and the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, and currently enjoys playing Associate Principal Trumpet with the Sun Valley Music Festival Orchestra.
Karen has been a featured soloist with many professional and community-based groups. These include the NAC Orchestra, Thirteen Strings Chamber Orchestra, the Kingston Symphony, the Saskatoon Symphony Orchestra, Orchestra London, the McGill Symphony Orchestra, Hannaford Silver Street Band, the National Honour Band of Canada, Parkdale Orchestra, the University of Regina Wind Ensemble, and many high school bands in the region.
In 2019, Karen spearheaded a new initiative, the Canadian Women’s Brass Collective, to shine a light on female brass players and provide visibility and mentoring for all students.
Music education has always been very close to Karen’s heart. Her work with the True North Brass Quintet creates opportunities for educational concerts and workshops in schools. Through the NAC’s learning and engagement programs, Karen has given masterclasses in Switzerland, Mexico, China, the United States, the United Kingdom, Sweden, and Canada.
Karen joined the teaching staff at the University of Ottawa in 2002, and since 2009, she has been the brass advisor for the OrKidstra program.
Karen studied at the University of Regina and McGill University, where she completed a Master of Music. She wouldn’t be a musician, however, without her school band program in her hometown of Regina, Saskatchewan.
John Estacio ranks as one of Canada’s most frequently performed composers. His symphonic and operatic works have been praised for their assured command of lyricism, depth of expression, and brilliant dynamism.
He has served as Composer in Residence for the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra and the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra. His orchestral music has been performed in Singapore, China, Europe, the United Kingdom, and throughout the United States. His first of five operas, Filumena, was filmed for television and was commemorated on a stamp issued by Canada Post.
His orchestral writing has caught the ear of choreographers and the film world. The Cincinnati Ballet commissioned a full-length score for King Arthur’s Camelot, and his music for The Secret of the Nutcracker earned him an AMPIA Award for best original film score.
His Trumpet Concerto, commissioned by an unprecedented consortium of 19 Canadian orchestras, was recorded by the Mulhouse Symphony Orchestra in France. He has finished his fifth opera, The Cipher Clerk, and has recently completed new works for the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra, the National Arts Centre Orchestra, and the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra.
The five-time JUNO-nominated composer was appointed to the Order of Canada in 2021 and is a recipient of the Lieutenant Governor of Alberta Award for Arts. He recently received an Honorary Doctorate in Music from Wilfrid Laurier University.
Canada’s National Arts Centre (NAC) Orchestra is praised for the passion and clarity of its performances, its visionary learning and engagement programs, and its unwavering support of Canadian creativity. The NAC Orchestra is based in Ottawa, Canada’s national capital, and has grown into one of the country’s most acclaimed and dynamic ensembles since its founding in 1969. Under the leadership of Music Director Alexander Shelley, the NAC Orchestra reflects the fabric and values of Canada, engaging communities from coast to coast to coast through inclusive programming, compelling storytelling, and innovative partnerships.
Since taking the helm in 2015, Shelley has shaped the Orchestra’s artistic vision, building on the legacy of his predecessor, Pinchas Zukerman, who led the ensemble for 16 seasons. Shelley’s influence extends beyond the NAC. He serves as Principal Associate Conductor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in the U.K. and Artistic and Music Director of Artis—Naples and the Naples Philharmonic in the U.S. Shelley’s leadership is complemented by Principal Guest Conductor John Storgårds and Principal Youth Conductor Daniel Bartholomew-Poyser. In 2024, the Orchestra marked a new chapter with the appointment of Henry Kennedy as its first-ever Resident Conductor.
The Orchestra has a rich history of partnerships with renowned artists such as James Ehnes, Angela Hewitt, Renée Fleming, Hilary Hahn, Jeremy Dutcher, Jan Lisiecki, Ray Chen and Yeol Eum Son, underscoring its reputation as a destination for world-class talent. As one of the most accessible, inclusive and collaborative orchestras in the world, the NAC Orchestra uses music as a universal language to communicate the deepest of human emotions and connect people through shared experiences.
A hallmark of the NAC Orchestra is its national and international tours. The Orchestra has performed concerts in every Canadian province and territory and earned frequent invitations to perform abroad. These tours spotlight Canadian composers and artists, bringing their voices to stages across North America, the U.K., Europe, and Asia.
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