With the rising tide of interest in tango in the 1960s, the name of Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992) spread across the musical world like a storm. Born in Argentina to an Italian immigrant family, Piazzolla actually grew up in New York City. He learned to play the bandoneon (a concertina, similar to an accordion) on the streets and progressed rapidly enough to catch the attention of a prominent bandleader, who invited 13-year-old Astor to go on tour. His father refused – ironically and tragically the smartest decision he ever made, for the entire band died in a plane crash while on tour. Astor began lessons in formal, European classical music. But taking sage advice from Nadia Boulanger, he accepted tango as his true voice. Piazzolla combined tango with jazz and classical idioms to elevate the rather seedy world of tango to a place among high art. He would go on to become one of the most renowned bandoneon players of all time, frequently playing his own works in concert and writing tango-inspired music that forever changed the genre.

Piazzolla was conscious of his role in elevating and transforming the tango. In fact, he composed a piece in 1985 that tracked the dance’s arc across four movements: from bordello and café to nightclub and finally modern concert hall. He called the work simply Histoire du Tango, and it has become one of his most popular compositions. Originally scored for flute and guitar, one can encounter it in numerous other arrangements and scorings. At the beginning, circa 1900, the tango was a dance of the slums, a lively seduction played out between beautiful women and their rakish admirers. We hear it today in its second age, circa 1930. By now, the music has lost some of its earthy energy and become something to aesthetically admire. Tango fans gather in cafés to listen, ensconced in rich harmonies and hearing in Piazzolla’s music a mirror of their romantic longing. The A section is dolorous and poetic, based primarily on falling lines, contrasted by a nostalgic but brighter B section.

Later in its evolution, tango will live abroad in nightclubs of the 1960s, cross-pollinated with a heavy dose of Brazilian bossa and samba. Eventually, by virtue of Piazzolla himself, the tango reaches the pristine halls of high society, taking its place between Rachmaninoff and Brahms on many a concert program.

Outside of France, the artistry of Pierre Sancan (1916-2008) is almost unknown. He was born in the Occitan region of southern France and eventually ascended to study at the famous Paris Conservatory with giants like Charles Munch (in conducting) and Yves Nat (in piano). At the keyboard Pierre gained some acclaim for his interpretations of Debussy and other 20th-century composers. He also spent many years in partnership with French cellist André Navarra and helped train a new generation of pianists, including Jean-Philippe Collard. As a composer, Sancan is even less known internationally, though his works show a high degree of sophistication, technical polish, and invention. (A curious Piano Concerto from 1957 exudes his admiration for Ravel and Prokofiev.) These traits are heard in abundance in his fabulous Theme and Variations for solo harp, written in 1975. Despite the recent date, this is a sumptuously tonal work, picking up where composers like Debussy and Ravel – both of whom wrote major works for harp – left off.

The Impressionist sound emerges from the outset in the parallel chords of the theme. The first two variations evoke mincing characters. Central variations explore the full compass of the instrument, from deeply brooding gestures to radiant cascades (glissandi) from lowest to highest registers. Throughout, not always obviously, Sancan retains echoes of the theme’s harmonic shape. He dedicated the work to celebrated French harpist Lily Laskine. One senses her inspirational presence shining through this brief work. Sancan only published about 25 original works, and this Thème et Variations for solo harp is assuredly among his most successful.

Today’s concert closes with another world premiere from Stefan Heucke. We are proud to have built a productive relationship with Stefan, who joins us in Staunton this summer to help usher his creations into the world. Stefan adds the following notes about his Sextet for Piano and Winds (2024):

It is thanks to the infinite instrumental variety of the Staunton Music Festival that I was able to realize my long-cherished plan of a Sextet for piano and wind quintet. There are only a few works employing this instrumentation – one of the best known is by Francis Poulenc. That fact is actually surprising, for the colorful sound of the wind quintet can both harmonize perfectly with the piano sound and also contrast against it.

I composed my Harp Quintet Op. 139, also premiered this year in Staunton, in the summer of 2024, followed very quickly by this Sextet.  It quickly became clear to me that the two pieces would be sibling works; they would deal with two sides of the “day and night” coin.  It was almost inevitable from the instrumentation that the Sextet would embody the dark and threatening “night” side, while the Harp Quintet would embody the light, bright side of “day.”

That is how I composed it, together and in tandem. For just as in reality, the day has its shadows and the night its lights. Like the Harp Quintet, the Piano Sextet has four movements that, however, merge into one another through short attacca transitions (i.e., without interruption).  The murky, dramatic first movement is followed by a lighter slow movement – a songlike Andante with five variations of very different moods.  The third movement is a weighty Minuet, oscillating between gloom and bizarre fantasy, with a shadowy Trio.  Before the rushed Presto of the last movement breaks in, a slow introduction is briefly recapitulated before the circle closes again more calmly at the very end.

The Sextet is a night piece.  But in addition to nightmares and horrors, the night also brings peace.  The moon and stars illuminate it, and dawn ALWAYS comes at some point.

Jason Stell and Stefan Heucke, © 2025