chamber music
Intimate performances. Exceptional artistry. A gathering that feels like home.
Great Bend’s chamber music performances bring world-class music into warm, welcoming spaces where artists and audiences connect up close.
Sunday, October 26, 2025 – 4pm
St. David of Wales Episcopal Church, 324 W Cedar Street Shelton, WA
TODAY’S PROGRAM
- Barber Dover Beach
- Barber String Quartet, op. 11
– intermission-
- Dvorak String Quartet in F major, op. 96 “American”
—
Few composers have so profoundly shaped the sound of American music as Samuel Barber and Antonín Dvořák. Though born on opposite sides of the Atlantic and separated by nearly half a century, both possessed an uncanny ability to capture the American spirit in sound—Barber through an intimate, inward lyricism, and Dvořák through his embrace of the country’s folk vitality and optimism. Tonight’s program traces the dialogue between European tradition and the emergence of an unmistakably American voice.
Samuel Barber (1910–1981) was, in many ways, America’s first great Romantic. Writing in a century obsessed with innovation, Barber held fast to beauty, melody, and emotional honesty. His Dover Beach (1931) sets Matthew Arnold’s poem for baritone and string quartet, transforming the Victorian poet’s meditation on human isolation into a hauntingly modern lament. The harmonic language is lush but restless, mirroring both the literal waves of the sea and the poem’s undertow of existential doubt. Already, the young Barber displayed what would become his signature gift: a lyrical intensity that speaks directly to the heart.
Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold
The sea is calm tonight.The tide is full, the moon lies fairUpon the straits; on the French coast the lightGleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!Only, from the long line of sprayWhere the sea meets the moon-blanched land,Listen! you hear the grating roarOf pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,At their return, up the high strand,Begin, and cease, and then again begin,With tremulous cadence slow, and bringThe eternal note of sadness in.Sophocles long agoHeard it on the Ægean, and it broughtInto his mind the turbid ebb and flowOf human misery; weFind also in the sound a thought,Hearing it by this distant northern sea.The Sea of FaithWas once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shoreLay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.But now I only hearIts melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,Retreating, to the breathOf the night-wind, down the vast edges drearAnd naked shingles of the world.Ah, love, let us be trueTo one another! for the world, which seemsTo lie before us like a land of dreams,So various, so beautiful, so new,Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;And we are here as on a darkling plainSwept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Composed a few years later, Barber’s String Quartet in B minor, Op. 11 (1936) solidified his place as one of America’s defining musical voices. Its slow movement—later arranged as the Adagio for Strings—has become one of the most iconic pieces in all of American music, emblematic of mourning and transcendence alike. Yet within the quartet’s full form, the Adagio gains even greater depth, framed by two movements of restless energy and taut motivic development. The result is a work that fuses European craft with American soul—disciplined, lyrical, and deeply human.
After intermission, Antonín Dvořák (1841–1904) offers an earlier vision of “American” sound from the perspective of an outsider enchanted by a new land. Composed during his stay in Spillville, Iowa, in the summer of 1893, Dvořák’s String Quartet in F major, Op. 96—nicknamed the “American” Quartet—radiates warmth, clarity, and rhythmic vitality. Drawing inspiration from the songs of Black and Indigenous traditions, as well as the open sonorities of the prairie, Dvořák distilled what he saw as the essence of the American voice: simple, direct melodies imbued with longing and joy.
Together, these works reveal two sides of the same coin. Dvořák, the European mentor, encouraged Americans to find their own musical identity in the rhythms and melodies of the New World. Barber, the American inheritor, fulfilled that vision—not by imitating folk idioms, but by giving emotional authenticity and lyric eloquence to the American experience. In their music, we hear both where the American sound began and how it came of age.
Dvořák and the Birth of an American Sound
When Antonín Dvořák arrived in New York City in 1892 to serve as director of the newly founded National Conservatory of Music of America, he stepped into a nation wrestling with an artistic question as profound as any political one: what does America sound like?
At the time, American concert music was dominated by European models. Conservatory students studied the forms of Brahms and Beethoven, and orchestras imported conductors and repertory from abroad. Yet Dvořák—already one of Europe’s most celebrated composers—believed the young nation’s music should spring from its own soil. Hired by the visionary philanthropist Jeannette Thurber, who founded the National Conservatory to make professional music education accessible to women, Black musicians, and those of limited means, Dvořák was an ideal figure to guide that mission.
From his arrival, he urged his students and colleagues to look not to Europe but to the songs of African Americans and Indigenous peoples for inspiration. “The future music of this country must be founded upon what are called Negro melodies,” he famously declared in 1893. To him, these melodies embodied the spiritual depth, rhythmic vitality, and emotional directness that could give rise to a distinctly American art.
During his three years in the United States, Dvořák lived first in New York and later in the small Czech immigrant community of Spillville, Iowa, where he composed both the “New World” Symphony and the “American” String Quartet. In these works, he did not quote folk material directly but absorbed its essence—its pentatonic scales, syncopated rhythms, and open, expansive harmonies—to evoke the character of the American landscape and the dignity of its people.
Though he returned to Prague in 1895, Dvořák left behind a transformative legacy. He reframed American composition as a search for authenticity rather than imitation, prompting generations of composers—from Gershwin and Copland to Florence Price and William Grant Still—to explore the nation’s diverse musical voices. In posing the question “What is a truly American sound?”, Dvořák did more than challenge his students—he launched an artistic journey that continues to shape the country’s music today.
Barber and the Fulfillment of the American Sound
If Antonín Dvořák helped America ask the question, “What should our music sound like?”, then Samuel Barber provided one of its most enduring answers. A half-century after Dvořák’s return to Europe, Barber emerged as the embodiment of an American composer who was both deeply rooted in European craft and unmistakably shaped by the emotional directness of his own culture.
Born in West Chester, Pennsylvania in 1910, Barber was a prodigy whose musical voice was as mature as it was lyrical. He studied at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia, itself a descendant of the conservatory tradition Dvořák had pioneered. Yet from the start, Barber’s music was distinctly personal—imbued with the clarity, warmth, and melancholy that came to define what many listeners now think of as the “American sound.”
While modernism and experimentation swept much of the 20th-century musical world, Barber stood apart, committed to beauty and emotional truth. His music spoke in the language of song—eloquent, tonal, and humane—whether in the aching stillness of the Adagio for Strings, the yearning nostalgia of Knoxville: Summer of 1915, or the intimate expressivity of Dover Beach. What set Barber apart was his ability to fuse rigorous European form with the emotional candor and plainspoken lyricism that Americans instinctively recognized as their own.
In this sense, Barber fulfilled Dvořák’s vision—not by adopting folk material, but by writing music that sounded like America felt. His harmonies carry the spaciousness of the landscape, his melodies the introspection and resilience of its people. Where Dvořák imagined an American music rooted in song, Barber gave that song a voice—one at once cosmopolitan and profoundly homegrown.
Tonight’s Musicians:
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