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Rozhlasový podzim - Český rozhlas

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13| 10| St 19.30| Rudolfinum – Dvořákova síň<br />

13| 10| Wed 7.30 pm| Rudolfinum – Dvořák Hall<br />

already included in Cosmas’ Chronicle. This relatively brief work with a dramatic pace is – in accordance<br />

with its extramusical subject – divided into several distinctly contrasting parts, which could be described<br />

as follows: Tameless Šárka’s wild appearance – Ctirad’s ride through the forest – Love scene – The dance of<br />

Ctirad’s group with its members’ gradually falling asleep (the lovely dissonant tone of the bassoon here<br />

allegedly describes the armour-bearer’s snoring) – Šárka calling her companions (the signal of the French<br />

horn); a meditative clarinet solo follows (does Šárka eventually hesitate to carry out her intention?) – The<br />

final devastating rage.<br />

In the 1960s and 70s the Polish Composers’ School became famous. Its leading representative is Witold<br />

Lutosławski (1913–1994). In his beginnings his work was inspired by B. Bartók’s music, but he gradually<br />

developed his own characteristic style based on the dominance of colour and on some kind of soundand-colour<br />

“patches”. In this creative period he frequently used an instrumental stylization that gave the<br />

musicians a certain degree of freedom, especially in the rhythmic rendition of their parts. Lutosławski’s<br />

masterpieces include Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, which was premièred by Mstislav Rostropovich in<br />

1970. This work, exposed in one direction, is full of contrasting moods. For the opening night, the composer<br />

wrote a detailed description of the progress of the piece to the soloist, emphasising the continuous<br />

dialogue between the soloist and the orchestra. According to Lutosławski, there is a certain kind of tense<br />

“animosity”, particularly between the solo part (which begins the work with an extensive cadence) and<br />

the trumpet section.<br />

The emergence of Wojciech Kilar’s (1932) symphonic picture Krzesany in the mid-1970s meant a significant<br />

turning point in the development of European music. Before that the development of the musical<br />

language seemed to be continuously leading – though with fluctuations – towards greater and greater<br />

complexity and sophistication. The abrupt turn towards simple expression – which is also noticeable in<br />

the work of Kilar’s contemporaries, such as Gorecki, Pärt and others – disrupted this idea, which is still<br />

frequently cited nowadays. Since he wrote Krzesany, Kilar has created a lot of other works. One of the<br />

newer ones is his Concert for Piano and Orchestra from 1997. Here, the composer is influenced by the language<br />

of musical minimalism: The first movement is based on sustained consonances with little change<br />

in melody. In the slightly contrasting second movement we can hear a choral melody structure. An abrupt<br />

change comes in the final part, in which the orchestra – which has almost not played at all so far – joins<br />

in and the stream of music starts moving forward like an engine. In the final part, the choral melody from<br />

the second movement is incorporated in the frantically running music.<br />

Taras Bulba, the rhapsody for orchestra by Leoš Janáček (1854–1928), belongs among the<br />

composer’s most typical works. As a Russophile, Janáček was often inspired by Russian literature.<br />

This work is based on the novel of the same name, describing the Russian Cossacks’ fight against<br />

the Poles. Janáček chose three episodes from the book and named the three parts of the piece after<br />

them. The first part tells the story of Taras’s son, Andrii, who has left the Cossacks for the love of<br />

a Polish girl and gets punished by Taras Bulba himself, who says: “I gave you life, I will also kill you!”<br />

The second part depicts the death of the second son, Ostap, who gets captured and tortured in public<br />

by the Poles. When he cannot bear the torture any more and cries for help, calling his father:<br />

“Father! Where are you? Do you hear?” (clarinet screaming), Taras Bulba shouts from the crowd:<br />

“I hear!“ (the beat of the timpani). In the last part, Taras is burned to death and the piece ends with<br />

a wonderful apotheosis of human courage. In spite of the gloomy theme, the music is full of beautiful<br />

musical landscapes, typical of Janáček. The final part of the composition belongs among some of the<br />

most magnificent examples of any composer’s expression.<br />

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