Adam Glaser

South Shore Symphony
Adam Glaser, Music Director and Conductor
Sunday, September 28, 2025 at 3:00pm
Madison Theatre at Molloy University, Rockville Centre, Long Island

Program:
Kabalevsky: The Comedians: Suite for Small Orchestra, Op. 26
Haydn: Symphony No. 94 in G major (Surprise)
​Shostakovich: Symphony No. 9 in E-flat, Op. 70 

As a lifelong fan of stand-up comedy, I have always been amazed by the serious dramatic chops so many of our most beloved comedians possess.  I think of Jim Carrey in the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Jamie Foxx in Ray, Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting, and Eddie Murphy in Dreamgirls.  These were Oscar-worthy performances by actors who had previously inhabited outlandish characters in sketch comedy TV shows like  Saturday Night Live or In Living Color.  How did the sparkly alien sporting rainbow suspenders on Mork and Mindy go on to win an Oscar for his poignant portrayal of a tortured therapist?  Conversely, I am also astonished to watch some of our greatest thespians stealing the spotlight in comedic films.  Think of Robert Deniro in Analyze This, Tilda Swinton in Trainwreck, and Meryl Streep in Death Becomes Her.   

This is the paradox we find in the music of Dmitri Kabalevsky, Joseph Haydn and Dmitri Shostakovich, three of the most famous “Musical Comedians” in music history. While they were all revered as accomplished composers of significant dramatic works, they were also experts in the art of weaving satire, irony and humor (and, yes, a few surprises) into their musical tapestries. 

We open our concert with a kaleidoscopic collection of ten short pieces by Russian-Soviet composer Dmitri Kabalevsky (1904 – 1987), all extracted from the incidental music he composed for a children’s play called The Inventor and the Comedians.  Kabalevsky’s lifetime output as a composer spanned a myriad of forms from concertos and operas to symphonies and even a Requiem. In his suite from The Comedians, he gives us ten brief nuggets, each representing a clown personality. Together, they form a colorful pastiche of characters that sets a genuine comedic tone for the evening. 

Alongside his reputation as one of the distinguished exponents of the symphonic form, Austrian composer Franz Joseph Haydn (1732 – 1809) is well known among music-lovers as a bit of a prankster.  Perhaps the most famous example is the abrupt loud chord that interrupts the otherwise gentle second movement of his Symphony No. 94, the composer’s blatant attempt to wake up sleeping audience members.  It’s a particularly well-planned prank which rightfully earned the symphony’s nickname: “Surprise.”  And there are plenty of other twists and turns through this charming four-movement symphony which blends classical idioms with grace, wit and humor.

Just last month (August 2025) marked 50 years since the death of another beloved Russian-Soviet composer, Dmitri Shostakovich (1906 – 1975), a musician of extraordinary talent who suffered profoundly under Soviet oppression.  Despite the tremendous anxiety and stress he experienced in his lifetime, he demonstrated an ability to inject sarcasm and mockery into his music that was unparalleled.  But how could this be?  Here again, I think of comedy legends like Matthew Perry, Joan Rivers, and Chris Farley, three comedians who gave the world so much laughter even as they battled their own private demons.

In Shostakovich’s case, his Symphony No. 9 exploits one of comedy’s greatest techniques: subverting expectations.   And he did this on so many levels.  The two symphonies by Shostakovich that preceded the Ninth -- the Seventh (Leningrad, written in 1941) and Eighth (written in 1943) – were both dark, brutal and monumental, each running over an hour. In the summer of 1945, just as World War II ended and the U.S.S.R. claimed victory, there was implied pressure on Shostakovich to compose yet another full-length epic, this one to glorify Joseph Stalin.  Of course, he had little reason to do so, having been incessantly terrorized by Stalin’s regime for years. 

Instead, he produced a bright, irreverent work of rather modest length -- under a half hour! -- filled with light-hearted melodies, bouncy rhythms, and the occasional sudden burst (surprise!).  The Ninth almost feels like a “throwback” to the 18^th-century symphonies of Mozart and haydn similar to Prokofiev’s “Classical Symphony.”  And indeed, Shostakovich was channeling “Papa Haydn” to some degree.  But listen closely, and beneath the circus atmosphere, you may hear music that is laced with angularity, bitterness and loneliness.   

Like any master of his craft, Shostakovich understood the importance of balance, proportion and framing.  While the symphony may appear to be a raucous “mash-up” of silliness and sadness, it is actually built on a sound architectural framework -- a five-movement structure that functions as a double decker club sandwich.  In between the crisp, light-hearted first (Allegro), third (Presto) and fifth (Allegretto) movements, Shostakovich serves up a slow, wandering second movement introduced by a lonely clarinet, and a time-stopping fourth movement in the form of a bassoon soliloquy.

So, is this symphony all fun and games?  Not quite. There is no parade of cycling clowns. There may be a few antics sprinkled throughout (cue the trombone!), but nothing as blunt as Haydn’s prank.  And yet, the humor is just as powerful, perhaps even more so.  One imagines that Shostakovich’s expression of sardonic humor was, at its very least, a coping mechanism he developed in order to endure — and even transcend — his own suffering.  In the end, he gave future audiences one of the most engaging, spirited and wickedly comedic symphonies of the 20th-century.