San Francisco Symphony Podcasts

Beethoven's Symphony No. 3 “Eroica”The Eroica opened the floodgates for the symphonic outpouring of the nineteenth century–for Beethoven himself, Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, Bruckner, and the rest. The Eroica was the longest symphony ever written when it was unveiled, and listeners and critics commented widely on that fact, to the composer’s frustration. By 1807 nearly all reactions to the piece were favorable, or at least respectful, and critics were starting to make sense of its more radical elements.

Shostakovich Violin Concerto and Bartok’s The Miraculous Mandarin"Banned" and "boycotted" - whether by the state or by the public, "official" disapproval has long had the power to change composers' careers and their lives.

Der Rosenkavalier was Richard Strauss's "Mozart opera," and its sparkle, wit, sentiment and infectious music- especially the waltzes - cemented his standing at the top of the operatic world.

Serge Diaghilev was turned down by four composers before turning to Igor Stravinsky to write the music for a new production by the Ballet Russe.  Luckily, Stravinsky, eager to try his hand at a ballet, had already been working on the music for a month, and their artistic relationship went on to produce Petrushka and The Rite of Spring.

Scriabin's "Poem of Ecstasy" was the perfect "cosmic trip" for the Summer of Love - even though it was written 60 years earlier.

Dvořák's Symphony No. 8 is, in many ways, his most Bohemian - full of blue skies, but with dark shadows that make the sunshine that much brighter.

Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 2 bridged the divide between East and West in Russian music; that may have been the reason it was the only one of his works that he was really satisfied with.

In 1854, Robert Schumann, friend and mentor to a young Johannes Brahms, attempted suicide by drowning in the Rhine River. Thrown into emotional turmoil by Schumann’s resulting institutionalization and his unrequited love for Robert’s wife Clara, young Brahms began sketching his first major orchestral work. Brahms reflects his struggle with a tormented opening, a slow movement which he described as a “lovely portrait” of Clara, and acceptance of reality in the finale.  Perhaps afraid to attempt a form so masterfully executed by Beethoven, the work soon evolved into a sonata for two pianos and then finally became his Piano Concerto No. 1, in D minor.

Improvised at the piano after a strenuous day of teaching, Enigma Variations established Elgar as the pre-eminent British composer of his time. Shrouded in mystery is the “enigma” intended by Elgar, a secret he took with him to the grave. Variation IX, “Nimrod (Adagio),” has become a cherished piece in the popular classical lexicon.

Sergei Prokofiev's opera The Fiery Angel—a medieval tale of demonic possession and its erotic overtones—was never produced during his lifetime. But he felt it contained some of the best music he had written, so he brought it to life in the concert hall as his dark, dynamic, and dangerous Symphony No. 3. How he got it past the Soviet censors is a mystery; you may find yourself looking over your shoulder after hearing it!

A fascination with the music of Italy’s distant past led Ottorino Respighi to compose what is known as his Romany Triptych of tone poems—Pines of Rome, Fountains of Rome, and Roman Festivals.  The Pines of Rome depicts the trees around Rome, which according to Respighi, “dominate the Roman landscape [and] become witnesses to the principal events in Roman life.”

Gustav Holst's suite The Planets was inspired by his interest in astrology; the stars must have been aligned because it has been a hit ever since its first performance.

Maurice Ravel called his score to the ballet Daphnis et Chloé a "great, choreographic symphony." The ballet lasted only a couple of performances, but the score has become—like the Greek gods—immortal.

After a series of successful tone poems based on literary sources, Richard Strauss found a fascinating new subject to write about: himself. His Alpine Symphony is based on eventful day trip he took as a boy; an epic musical journey to the summit and back again.

In this episode, special guest host Music Director Michael Tilson Thomas talks about a work Mahler called a “foaming, roaring, raging sea of sound,” his Symphony No. 5.

Constructing a winning chess match is not that different from constructing a musical composition. Sergei Prokofiev used both strategies in his Piano Concerto No. 3.

In summer 1940, while enjoying a very busy career as a pianist and conductor, Rachmaninoff finally found time to compose while vacationing on Long Island.  Following the successful dance production of his Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, choreographed by Mikhail Fokine, Rachmaninoff started work on what he called his Fantastic Dances, planning a Philadelphia Orchestra premiere complete with Fokine’s choreography.  After the death of Fokine, this last work of Rachmaninoff’s became the Symphonic Dances, a three-movement work which showcases Rachmaninoff’s mastery of orchestral color and includes buried secret references and codes.

On his conceptualization of Rhapsody in Blue, Gershwin recalled: “It was on the train, with its steely rhythms, its rattlety-bang that is often so stimulating to a composer . . . and there I suddenly heard—and even saw on paper—the complete construction of the rhapsody . . . I heard it as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America—of our vast melting pot, of our unduplicated national pep, of our metropolitan madness.”

The Four Ritual Dances from Michael Tippett’s opera "The Midsummer Marriage" follow the opera’s lead characters on their journey to integrate light and shadow and become whole; a path that mirrored the composer’s own.

Beethoven’s first symphony premiered when he was 30. Schubert wrote his first at 16, and Mozart’s was composed when he was only 8. But Johannes Brahms, at 43, had yet to finish his Symphony No. 1, which he’d begun writing more than twenty years previously. A notorious perfectionist, he burned many of his early works and sketches; it was not easy living in the shadow of the giants before him. His many years of preparation were worth it—upon the work’s premiere in 1876, the Vienna press called it “Beethoven’s Tenth.”