Richard Danielpour
Concerto for Orchestra (Zoroastrian Riddles)
Richard Danielpour was born in New York City in 1956. He composed this work in 1995 and 1996 on a commission from the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in celebration of its Centennial Season, and it was first performed by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra under the direction of David Zinman in 1997. This work was recorded by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra on the Sony label. The score calls for 3 flutes, 2 piccolos, 2 oboes, English horn, 3 clarinets, bass clarinet, 3 bassoons, contrabassoon, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, harp, piano, celeste, and strings.

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Richard Danielpour composed this work for the 1995-96 Centennial Season of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. As the title suggests, it is an orchestral showcase of the first order. “The way I hear and see it,” Danielpour says, “is first as a concerto between the different sections of the orchestra: the woodwinds, brass, percussion, and strings. It’s a concerto also between the principal players of the orchestra. And it’s a concerto for orchestra in terms of how new combinations are created.”

The work is not programmatic. If you’re wondering about the subtitle, Zoroastrian Riddles, it comes from a story about Mozart. In 1786 Mozart appeared at the Carnival in Vienna dressed as Zoroaster, the Persian philosopher, and handed out pamphlets entitled “Excerpts from the Fragments of Zoroaster” containing eight riddles and fourteen proverbs. Danielpour says that “Mozart’s love for puzzles and games and mistaken identity has always fascinated me; this piece is also filled with contrapuntal puzzles and games and mistaken identities between various themes in the music.”

The Concerto begins with bell-like tolling from the piano and harp that slips rapidly into a vigorous rhythmically-charged movement full of music derived from that four-note theme. (That theme, and its variations, will be found everywhere you look in this Concerto.) Every so often the music zooms in for a close-up. The first of these is a delightful woodwind and percussion interlude; later it’s a lyrical section begun by the oboe; last is an ascending line begun by the bassoons and taken over by a solo violin.
The second movement sets a motoring rhythm that is interrupted by fierce interjections. The horns bring in a contemplative middle section that is still haunted by the motoring rhythm.

The Adagio non troppo begins with a broad, long-lined, and stunningly beautiful introduction in the strings. As the music builds it turns ominous, and a repeated horn figure leads a hair-raising climax. From here the music subsides in reverse order from which it started.
The Finale is full of off-kilter rhythmic hijinks. Its episodic music gradually leads us away from the portentous adagio and into a sense of affirmation. Here the four-note theme becomes the answer to the question it posed three movements before.