Pabellón de Sun Valley

The Festival’s 41st season opens with an evening of Mozart. Venezuelan pianist Gabriela Martinez, described by The New York Times as “compelling…versatile, daring, and insightful,” performs Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20. It’s probably his most famous concerto, as it’s a delight end to end, and it accompanies the final scene and end credits of the 1984 film Amadeus. The program continues with Mozart’s equally popular “Haffner” Symphony. Full of exuberant life, it moves from a fiery and forceful opening, through an easygoing and peaceful middle, to a final movement that Mozart wrote should go “as fast as possible.” Alasdair Neale and the Festival Orchestra accept the challenge!

Stephanie Childress leads the orchestra in Haydn’s Symphony No. 80. It’s not as famous as many of his other symphonies, but not for any good reason—it’s a lovely work that is stormy at times, light-hearted and even funny at others. Not “LOL” funny, but classical music funny—defying expectations with little twists of melody and form. Carl Stamitz probably wrote his viola concerto for himself, as he was a virtuoso violist. Festival Principal Viola Adam Smyla will tackle this bright, lively, and altogether enjoyable showcase for his instrument to open the concert.

Pianist Gabriela Martinez joins with several Festival Orchestra musicians to perform Brahms’s Piano Quartet in G Minor. Clara Schumann played the piano part at this piece’s premiere in 1861, which was fortunate since it’s often described as “stupendously virtuosic.” The piece met with instant acclaim, lauded for both its innovative structure—which launches straight into a number of variations on the first theme—and its incredible finale, which was written “in the gypsy style,” according to Brahms’s own description. Ms. Martinez will open this concert with Caroline Shaw’s Chopin-inspired Gustave le Gray.

In between two of the most famous classical works ever written (his third and fifth symphonies), Beethoven produced this gem of a composition. Light, airy, and approachable, it certainly warrants more love; Schumann called it “a slender Greek maiden between two huge Nordic giants.” Can a piece of music be mournful and elegiac, somber and grieving, while also exquisitely beautiful, even radiant, and full of life? Give a listen to Anna Clyne’s ode to her mother, Within Her Arms, and see what you think.