Welcome to Lighthearted Classics — an afternoon of music that smiles. Every piece on today's program was written by a composer who knew that great music and good fun were never enemies. From a Russian trombonist showing off for his friends, to Schubert dashing off an "improvisation," to an opera lover's greatest-hits parade, to young Beethoven borrowing the catchiest tune in Vienna — this is classical music at its most joyful, played by people who love it.

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PROGRAM

1. Vladislav Blazhevich (1881–1942) — Concert Piece No. 5 (1938)

Rob Tierney, tenor trombone; KC Graham, piano

2. Franz Schubert (1797–1828) — Impromptu in E-flat major, Op. 90 No. 2, D. 899 (1827)

KC Graham, piano

3. Donato Lovreglio (1841–1907) — Fantasy on Themes from Verdi's La traviata, Op. 45 (1863)

Charisse Tierney, clarinet; KC Graham, piano

4. Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827) — Trio in B-flat major, Op. 11 "Gassenhauer" (1797)

I. Allegro con brio — II. Adagio — III. Tema con variazioni: Allegretto

Charisse Tierney, clarinet; Rob Tierney, trombone (cello part); KC Graham, piano

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PROGRAM NOTES

Blazhevich: Concert Piece No. 5Vladislav Blazhevich was Russia's trombone man — principal trombone of the Bolshoi, professor at the Moscow Conservatory, and the composer who almost single-handedly built the trombone's solo repertoire, with thirteen concertos and etude books still in daily use a century later. Before the concertos came five Concert Pieces — "concert sketches," really — little showpieces he wrote for his students and colleagues. No. 5, composed in 1938, is the only one ever published, and it became the most-recorded Blazhevich work of all. It is Russian romanticism with a twinkle: long singing lines, nimble passagework, and a performer's sense of fun. Blazhevich wrote the way a man writes for friends — wanting everyone in the room to love his instrument as much as he did. That generosity of spirit is exactly what Lighthearted Classics is about.

Schubert: Impromptu in E-flat major, Op. 90 No. 2The impromptu was the nineteenth century's great musical improvisation — a piece that pretends to be made up on the spot. Schubert, writing in the summer of 1827 just over a year before his death at thirty-one, takes the idea and runs with it: the E-flat Impromptu bursts in with cascading triplets and no introduction at all, as if the music simply couldn't wait to begin. It is a moto perpetuo, perpetual motion — all sparkle and forward rush — until the middle section turns the mood on its head with a stomping dance (listen for the lilt of the Austrian Ländler). Then the sunlight returns, and the piece races home. Schubert at his most spontaneous reminds us that the profound can also be playful — that lightheartedness is not the absence of feeling, but feeling set free.

Lovreglio: Fantasy on Themes from Verdi's La traviata, Op. 45Before recordings, if you loved an opera you couldn't just stream it — you went to hear a virtuoso play its greatest hits live. Donato Lovreglio (1841–1907), an Italian flutist turned composer, made a career of exactly that: dazzling fantasies on the most beloved operas of the day, first performed across Europe to delighted crowds. His Traviata Fantasy, premiered in 1863, takes Verdi's most famous tunes — Violetta's music, the melodies all of Italy was humming — and spins them into a tour de force for clarinet: tender where Verdi is tender, breathtaking where the occasion demands fireworks, and faithful to the character of every aria it borrows. It was the nineteenth century's pop concert, and it still works the same magic today: great melodies, a great player, and an audience having the time of its life.

Beethoven: Trio in B-flat major, Op. 11 ("Gassenhauer")Beethoven's Fourth Piano Trio wears its nickname proudly: Gassenhauer — literally, a "street hit." The finale is a set of nine variations on "Pria ch'io l'impegno," a tune from Joseph Weigl's comic opera L'amor marinaro that was so catchy all of Vienna was whistling it in the lanes (Gassen). Beethoven, in his mid-twenties and the toast of Vienna, does what any great entertainer would do: he takes the town's favorite earworm and runs it through every mood he can think of — graceful, stormy, joking, tender. The opening Allegro con brio is all high spirits, and the Adagio sings like an opera aria. Possibly written on commission from a clarinetist, it is Beethoven at his most sociable — proof that genius and good fun were never enemies, and the perfect crown for an afternoon of Lighthearted Classics.