March 28, 2026

Program Notes

Manuel de Falla’s Spanish Dance No. 1

Manuel de Falla (1876-1946), a prominent Spanish composer of the early 20th century, was deeply inspired by the rich folk traditions of his homeland. His Spanish Dance No. 1, originally composed for piano and later orchestrated, is a captivating and exhilarating work that encapsulates the essence of Spanish music and dance.

The Spanish Dance No. 1, also known as “from La Vida Breve” (From the Short Life), is a passionate and rhythmically vibrant composition that draws upon the flamenco tradition of Andalusia. De Falla’s profound understanding and love for Spanish folk music are evident throughout the piece, as he skillfully incorporates elements of the genre into a classical context.

The opening of the Spanish Dance No. 1 immediately commands attention with its forceful and fiery introduction. The music bursts forth with the energy and intensity of a flamenco dancer’s footwork, drawing the listener into a world of rhythmic excitement and emotional depth.

De Falla’s rhythmic mastery is evident in the intricate patterns, syncopations, and cross-rhythms that propel the music forward with relentless momentum.

The Spanish Dance No. 1 also highlights de Falla’s expertise in orchestration. In the orchestrated version, the colors and textures of the orchestra enhance the inherent drama and dynamism of the composition. The interplay between the different sections of the orchestra adds depth and
richness to the music, allowing the melodic and rhythmic elements to flourish within a vibrant and immersive sonic environment.

As the Spanish Dance No. 1 reaches its climax, the music reaches a peak of intensity and virtuosity. The orchestra surges with exuberance, unleashing a torrent of sound that reverberates with the spirit of the dance. The rhythmic drive and the passionate melodies build to a
breathtaking crescendo, leaving the audience exhilarated and spellbound.

Manuel de Falla’s Spanish Dance No. 1 is a testament to his profound connection with Spanish music and culture. Through this composition, he brings to life the captivating essence of flamenco, transporting the listener to the heart of Spain’s musical traditions. The piece is a celebration of the vitality, expressiveness, and rhythmic intricacies that have made flamenco an enduring and beloved art form. – CantonSymphony.org

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Johannes Brahms’ Hungarian Dances Nos. 5 and 6

Hungarian Dances is a set of 21 dances arranged by Johannes Brahms from Hungarian folk
sources and originally scored for piano four hands (two pianists, one piano) and later
orchestrated by Brahms and a few friends, including Antonin Dvorak. No opus number is
assigned to the work because Brahms considered himself the arranger rather than the composer,
and thus would take no credit for the pieces. However, three of the compositions are believed to
be original with Brahms – numbers 11, 14, and 16.

The inspiration for Dances grew out of Brahms study of folk music and encouraged by his early
relationship with Hungarian-born violinist Ede Reményi. Brahms had met Reményi when he was
17 and three years later he served as piano accompanist to Reményi during an extensive tour of
European cities. After the publication of the Dances, Reményi accused Brahms of adapting tunes
of his for use in the Dances.

Brahms actually claimed only to have arranged pre-existing melodies when he finally came
around to publishing them…Friends remembered his flashing eyes when Brahms played his
dances, the rhythm darting and halting, his hands all over the keyboard at once.
The Dances were published in four sets, two in 1869 and two in 1880. They were an immediate
success and were widely performed in public recitals and home entertainment. Immediate also
was the demand for orchestral versions of the individual pieces, which were dutifully
forthcoming from Brahms and his composer friends.

Interestingly, one of the better-known Hungarian Dances includes No. 5, based on the Csárdás
Bártfai emlék” (Memories of Bártfa) by Hungarian composer Béla Kéler, which Brahms
mistakenly thought was a traditional folksong.

The earliest known recording of any movement of Hungarian Dances is a version of Hungarian
Dances No. 1, from 1890, played by Brahms himself, and recorded by Theo Wangemann, an
assistant to Thomas Edison.

The following dialogue can be heard in the recording as an introduction:
Theo Wangemann: “Dezember 1889.” (December 1889)

Johannes Brahms: “Im Haus von Herrn Doktor Fellinger bei Herrn Doktor Brahms, Johannes
Brahms.” (In the house of Dr. Fellinger with Dr. Brahms, Johannes Brahms) – Clinton
Symphony Orchestra

Camille Saint-Säens’ Danse Macabre

Danse macabre, Op. 40, is a symphonic poem for orchestra, written in 1874 by the French
composer Camille Saint-Saëns. It premiered 24 January 1875. It is in the key of G minor. It
started out in 1872 as an art song for voice and piano with a French text by the poet Henri
Cazalis. In 1874, the composer expanded and reworked the piece into a symphonic poem,
replacing the vocal line with a solo violin part.
According to legend, Death appears at midnight every year on Halloween. Death calls forth the
dead from their graves to dance for him while he plays his fiddle (here represented by a solo
violin). His skeletons dance for him until the cockerel crows at dawn, when they must return to
their graves until the next year.
The piece opens with a harp playing a single note, D, twelve times (the twelve strokes of
midnight) which is accompanied by soft chords from the string section. The solo violin enters
playing the tritone, which was known as the diabolus in musica (“the Devil in music”) during the
Medieval and Baroque eras, consisting of an A and an E♭—in an example of scordatura tuning,
the violinist’s E string has actually been tuned down to an E♭ to create the dissonant tritone.
The first theme is heard on a solo flute, followed by the second theme, a descending scale on the
solo violin which is accompanied by soft chords from the string section. The first and second
themes, or fragments of them, are then heard throughout the various sections of the orchestra.
The piece becomes more energetic and at its midpoint, right after a contrapuntal section based on
the second theme, there is a direct quote played by the woodwinds of Dies irae, a Gregorian
chant from the Requiem that is melodically related to the work’s second theme. The Dies irae is
presented unusually in a major key. After this section the piece returns to the first and second
themes and climaxes with the full orchestra playing very strong dynamics. Then there is an
abrupt break in the texture and the coda represents the dawn breaking (a cockerel’s crow, played
by the oboe) and the skeletons returning to their graves.
The piece makes particular use of the xylophone to imitate the sounds of rattling bones. Saint-
Saëns uses a similar motif in the Fossils movement of The Carnival of the Animals.
The progression and melody of the minor waltz are similar to the jibes (e.g. “their sweethearts all
are dead”) of the Sailors’ Chorus in “Helmsman/Steersman, Leave Your Watch,” which begins
the third act of Wagner’s earlier opera, “The Flying Dutchman”.
When Danse macabre was first performed on 24 January 1875, it was not well received and
caused widespread feelings of anxiety. The 21st century scholar, Roger Nichols, mentions
adverse reaction to “the deformed Dies irae plainsong”, the “horrible screeching from solo
violin”, the use of a xylophone, and “the hypnotic repetitions”, in which Nichols hears a pre-echo
of Ravel’s Boléro.
It has grown to be considered one of Saint-Saëns’ masterpieces, widely regarded and reproduced
in both high and popular culture. – Classicals.de
Leonard Bernstein’s Three Dance Episodes from “On the Town”
Writes Bernstein, “It seems only natural that dance should play a leading role in the show On the
Town, since the idea of writing it arose from the success of the ballet Fancy Free. The story of
On the Town is concerned with three sailors on 24-hour leave in New York, and their adventures
with the monstrous city which its inhabitants take so for granted.”
The first episode is Dance of the Great Lover, in which the romantic sailor Gabey falls asleep on
the subway and dreams of sweeping Miss Turnstiles off her feet; the effervescent music
underlines Gabey’s naiveté as well as his determination.
In the second episode, Pas de Deux, Gabey watches a scene, “both tender and sinister, in which a
sensitive high-school girl in Central Park is lured and then cast off by a worldly sailor.” This is
set to Lonely Town – one of Bernstein’s greatest tunes, worthy of his friend and mentor Aaron
Copland in its air of reflective melancholy.
The finale, Times Square Ballet is described by Bernstein as “a more panoramic sequence in
which all the sailors congregate in Times Square for their night of fun.” Part of the action takes
place in the Roseland Dance Palace, with music to match. The famous “New York, New York,
it’s a helluva town” theme makes a cameo appearance. – leonardbernstein.com
Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s Danse Negre
Samuel Coleridge-Taylor was born in London in 1875, the result of an affair between Alice
Martin, a 19-year-old English girl, and Daniel Taylor, a surgeon from Sierra Leone who had
come to London seeking a position. The affair was short-lived; Taylor found no employers
willing to open their doors to an African doctor, and he returned to Sierra Leone without
knowing that Alice was pregnant.
Alice named her son after the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, simply inverting the last
two names. Originally there was no hyphen. That came later as the result of a printer’s error, and
Coleridge-Taylor decided to keep it. To his family and friends, however, he was always
addressed as Coleridge.
Alice’s family included numerous amateur musicians. His grandfather began teaching him the
violin when he was five years old. That young Coleridge had a startling natural aptitude for the
violin soon after became obvious, and the extended family chipped in to pay for violin lessons.At
fifteen he was admitted to the Royal College of Music as a violin student, but within a year
decided to change his focus to composition. He began studying with the eminent composer
Charles Villiers Stanford, who would later recall him as one of the most gifted students he ever
had.
Coleridge-Taylor’s reputation exploded with the first performance of his cantata Hiawatha’s
Wedding Feast, a setting for tenor, chorus, and orchestra based on a section of The Song Of
Hiawatha by the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The work became so popular that
for a time it eclipsed Handel’s Messiah in the number of English performances. It was equally
well received in the United States, which led to invitations to appear in America. In all, he made
three American tours, in 1904, 1906, and 1910, conducting Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast and other
works, and meeting leading African American artists and musicians. He had already met the
African American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar, and set several of his poems to music. Dunbar
encouraged Coleridge-Taylor to explore his Sierra Leonian roots in his music. Following
Dunbar’s suggestion, Coleridge-Taylor began several pieces inspired by African themes,
including the African Suite of 1898. Originally for piano, the suite consists of four movements,
the last of which, Danse Nègre, soon appeared in an orchestral version.
In the African Suite and other pieces, Coleridge-Taylor sought to capture some of the spirit of
traditional African music in a work that is otherwise squarely in the European classical realm. In
this he places himself alongside Liszt and Brahms, who took the same approach with Hungarian
music, or Dvořák with Bohemian music. Beginning with two emphatic chords, the dance begins
with a pair of lively, rhythmic themes, developed at length in properly symphonic fashion. A
middle section provides contrast with a richly orchestrated lyrical melody. Finally, the lively
themes return and the dance ends much as it began. –  Dan Powers
Aram Khachaturian’s Sabre Dance from Gayaneh
Aram Khachaturian’s picture graced the walls of Russia’s conservatories, alongside his
compatriots Dmitri Shostakovich and Sergei Prokofiev, as one of the country’s three greatest
composers this century. Interestingly, his works – from favorites like the Masquerade incidental
music and the ballets Gayane and Spartacus to his less-familiar, but no less engaging,
symphonies and concertos – do not enjoy the international reputation that those of his two more
familiar compatriots do. Perhaps this is because of Khachaturian’s relatively limited output – only
three symphonies compared to Prokofiev’s seven and Shostakovich’s fifteen, for example – but
his works, for the most part, lack the 20th-century edge that gives the music of Prokofiev and
Shostakovich its more contemporary and challenging feel. But that’s why he was a Soviet
musical hero, especially after he publicly renounced formalism when criticized by the
government in 1948 – his music overflows with melody and vitality, its languorous moments
alternating with sections of overwhelming rhythmic dynamism. As an ethnic Armenian born in a
suburb of Tiflis, Georgia, Khachaturian became a manifestation of one of the cornerstones of
Soviet arts policy – the combination of the folk heritage of the various Socialist Republics with
Russia’s artistic traditions, embodied in music by composers such as Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-
Korsakov.

Like Tchaikovsky, Khachaturian composed three ballets. His second, Gayane (1942, with its
three suites arranged in 1943) reworked much of the material from his first ballet, Happiness
(1939). The story takes place on a collective farm on the Georgian border in 1941, the year the
Germans invaded the Soviet Union during World War II. The lives of its residents, their conflicts,
and their allegiances offer an object lesson in how to be a loyal Soviet citizen and the rewards of
a life devoted to the state, and Khachaturian’s music narrates the story and its intermittent set
pieces with style and directness in the best Russian tradition. Favorites from the ballet include
the raucous Sabre Dance, with its percussion (especially the xylophone) playing at break-neck
speed.

The opening of Sabre Dance is driven by off-beats played by the strings and percussion. The
main melody enters, with the marimba being at the forefront of the melody. The woody tones of
the instrument shines through here. Against the main melody are the brass, most notably the
trombones, who play comedic slide movements between the main melody. 
There is a sense of sheer excitement and intensity throughout the dance, even in the slightly
slower middle section. The music here is based on an Armenian folk song, which is said to often
be used at Armenian weddings. The off-beats continue even throughout this section to keep the
tempo running along.

The bombastic material from the opening explodes once more with the percussion and brass
leading the way now. There is a quick percussion interlude before the upper brass take the lead of
the melody. The orchestra unite for a final proclamation of the theme before a descending
sequence is heard. A petite flute and marimba ascending sequence is heard before the bass drum
strikes the final note of the piece. – LA Phil and Classicalexburns.com
Arturo Marquez’s Danzón No. 2
Commissioned in 1994 by the National Autonomous University of Mexico, Danzón No. 2 is one
of the most frequently performed pieces of Mexican contemporary classical music. Based on the
Mexican partnered dance, the ‘danzon’ genre utilises syncopation, offbeats and pauses, where the
dancers hold elegant positions before carrying on. This significant work is scored for full
orchestra, and sees many instruments highlighted with solo lines.
Arturo Márquez was born in Sonora, Mexico in 1950. Surrounded by a musical family, Márquez
studied composition with the likes of Federico Ibarra, Hector Quintanar, and Joaquín Gutierrez
Heras. Márquez composed eight Danzon works in total, with the second being by far the most
popular. The work is dedicated to his daughter Lily, and was premiered in March 1994 in Mexico
City. The inspiration for this work and his other Danzóns comes from a visit Márquez took in
1993 with some friends. In Malinalco his friends taught Márquez about the Mexican danzón, a
dance which oozes passion, elegance and sophistication. Márquez visited some dance halls in
Mexico City, where he soaked in the culture of this dance, and thus paid homage to this in
Danzón No. 2. 

Although similar to a tango, the Mexican danzón is essentially the northern counterpart. They are
similar due to the syncopated rhythms, melancholy melodies, and sultry tones. The danzón was
originally from Cuba, as its roots go back to the Habenera. It was only in the 1900s that the
danzón became more popular in Mexico. Danzón No. 2 has been described by the composer as
representing ‘sensuality, nostalgia, and jubilant escape’.
As one of Mexico’s greatest musical treasures, Márquez was already famous in his homeland
when Danzón No. 2 was premiered. However, this work gained him important international
recognition. The popularity of this work was also helped by conductors Simón Bolívar and
Gustavo Dudamel, who both included this work in their American and European orchestral tours.
This work has been so popular that Mexico have dubbed it their ‘second national anthem’. As
well as being  true to the dance form, Danzón No. 2 is also an important cultural statement. This
work aims to accurately represent Márquez’s country, and its multi-cultural heritage. Márquez
says more in his programme notes for the work:
“The Danzón No. 2 is a tribute to the environment that nourishes the genre. It is a very personal
way of paying my respects and expressing my emotions towards truly popular music.” – Ⓒ Alex
Burns