Performed by The Toledo Symphony on May 1 & 2, 2026 at The Peristyle

Interloper 
Jocelyn Morlock (1969-2023) 

Jocelyn Morlock is one of the most important Canadian composers of recent years. Trained as a pianist, she also performed in a Balinese gamelan ensemble. Morlock primarily composed chamber music with creative instrumentation but also wrote orchestral and vocal music.  

In an interview with writer and musician Tze Liew, Morlock described her musical language and compositional style: “It’s frequently tonal or modal, but I do enjoy this space between the notes or somewhat extended tonal palette. I tend to write narratively and there’s usually ... an emotional journey behind the piece, or exploration of a psychological state.” 

Morlock’s music has been widely performed and recorded in North America and abroad. She was the inaugural composer-in-residence for Vancouver’s Music on Main Society (2012-2014), and her Cobalt (a concerto for two violins and orchestra) won the 2015 Western Canadian Music Award for Best Classical Composition. She was awarded her JUNO for My Name is Amanda Todd, a piece about the teen from Port Coquitlam, BC, who took her own life due to cyberbullying. Morlock was also the composer-in-residence for the Vancouver Symphony from 2014 to 2019. 

The Vancouver Sun called her music “a lyrical wonder, exquisite ... [with] an acute feeling of sonority,” and the Georgia Straight described it as “airy but rhythmic, tuneful but complex ... [with an] uncanny yet toothsome beauty.” Morlock listed her main sources of inspiration as “birds, insomnia, nature, fear, other people’s music and art, nocturnal wandering thoughts, lucid dreaming, death, and the liminal times and experiences before and after death.”  

In 2020, the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra commissioned Morlock (and others) to write music for a concert series celebrating Beethoven’s 250th birthday. The series was called Beethoven 250 and featured newly commissioned works alongside five of Beethoven’s symphonies. Morlock composed Interloper to pair with Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony. In her interview with Liew, Morlock explained, “I wrote a companion piece to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4, titled Interloper – as in someone or something that doesn’t quite belong here. That’s partly because of the feeling I think any composer would certainly get when your music is being showcased next to Beethoven’s: how could I, or any mere mortal, possibly compete with the canonical, famous works of a genius that have withstood the test of time?  

“I started my research and interestingly, found that Beethoven didn’t really fit in [with] the society that he was aspiring to. He wasn’t the phenomenal Beethoven we know today, but just another composer who was trying to make a living, got bad reviews, and made music that was considered wrong by the mainstream. He was kind of the anti-establishment in his day.  

“For example, his 4th symphony is clearly labelled in B-flat major, and people would’ve had set expectations about what a symphony in B-flat major should sound like – at least, they’d expect that it would start in the major mode. But Beethoven’s symphony starts in this slow, weird minor, like he’s kind of messing around with people’s minds. It makes me happy that he would do that. Weirdos of the music world, unite! 

“So in my piece, I played with this idea of consciously knowing I don’t fit in, but also that Beethoven didn’t fit in in his time, so we are thus somewhat connected. I started with B-flat, as he did, and then spun off into my own thing. The idea of starting from a unison and then gradually expanding and colouring it with different textures and adjacent notes, starting from the general concept ‘okay, this is not what somebody would have expected, so what can I do with that?’ was kind of fun. Interloper has many parts that are pseudo-Beethoven, that flicker in and out of his world, and then go off into my own world.” 

Liew asked Morlock about the experience of composing as the pandemic was shutting everything down, and Morlock replied, “It was off to be working on Interloper as the world ground to a halt due to Covid-19. The more surreal aspects of the piece, where Beethoven’s world and the modern world collide, seemed all right to deal with, but I found trying to write a conclusion to the work was almost impossible. After trying a number of possibilities, I ended up writing a very ambiguous but somewhat menacing ending, because writing anything didn’t work with the strange and disturbing times we’re living in.” 

Morlock’s own program note for Interloper follows:  

“A 21st-century listener hearing Beethoven’s fourth symphony drinks in the mysterious slow introduction to the work, comfortably expecting the energetic first movement proper that we’ve heard dozens of times; but in 1806, beginning a work titled Symphony No. 4 in B Flat Major in the minor mode was transgressive – then, as now, a living composer was out to surprise, to shock us, maybe make us laugh, maybe scare us a little. Beethoven was an interloper himself; he struggled to improve his social and financial status, gradually morphing from socialist outlier to colossus. But I’ve been wondering – must the image of Beethoven be mutated from one of quirky, humorous, disruptive artist, to deified cultural icon – and is this truly a positive transformation? I came to classical music in late adolescence – as with many composers of my generation, by way of Amadeus – and felt like I’d passed through a magic portal. Since then I’ve been inviting myself into the musical worlds of great western art music composers of the past, and making myself at home. Interloper’s adoptive home is those first three notes of Beethoven 4, the unexpected minor mode, and the commensurate sense of strangeness and unreality that might be comforting, or perhaps rather scary.”  

Interloper is scored for flute, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, timpani, percussion, and strings.  

Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major, Op. 60 
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) 

Beethoven wrote his fourth symphony in 1806, two years after his momentous Third. It was originally his intention to follow his “Eroica” with the C Minor (the fifth), of which, by 1805, he’d already completed two movements. Beethoven had been commissioned to write a symphony and was writing the C Minor for that purpose, but instead he decided to dedicate it (and his sixth, the “Pastoral”) to someone other than the commissioner. The fourth symphony was then written to fulfill his commitment. 

There is a bit more mystery surrounding this fourth symphony than most of his others. For example, there are fewer primary sources, such as sketches and reviews (which would have appeared in the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung), and far less research done on this work than his others. It, along with the Eighth Symphony, is also not performed as often as his others. Also, like the Eighth, it is lighter and more classical in style. It is possible that the two larger-than-life works on either side are partly responsible for the Fourth Symphony being a bit overlooked, the way the Eighth stands in the shadow of both the bright Seventh and the colossal Ninth. Composer Robert Schumann once said that the Fourth Symphony is like “a slender Greek maiden between two Norse giants.” 

In general, Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony is characterized by lightness, brightness, and a spirited grace and elegance. The first movement opens in a slow tempo, punctuated with detached, deliberate notes. Composer Hector Berlioz explains that these are “the background upon which the composer is afterwards enabled to display other melodies of more real character.” This is a technique often employed by Haydn and Mozart, who were also fond of the slow introduction that Beethoven used in both his First and Second symphonies. After the close of the Adagio, the Allegro bursts forward with great spontaneity. 

The second movement is a broad Adagio of incredible sweetness. Once again, Beethoven has caught perfectly the balance between expressiveness and a careful holding back. Musicologist Sir George Grove calls this movement an example of “the celestial beauty which Beethoven (the deaf Beethoven) could imagine and realise in sounds… we rise from good humour and pleasure to passion as even Beethoven’s fiery nature has perhaps never reached elsewhere.” Beethoven included the indication cantabile in this movement, meaning to sing, and Berlioz loved it so much that he claimed it defied analysis, that it “seem[ed] as if it had been sadly murmured by the Archangel Michael on some day when, overcome by a feeling of melancholy, he contemplated the universe from the threshold of the empyrean.” 

The Minuet and Trio features phrases in duple rhythm set over triple meter, giving the feeling of running forward and making the melodies seem more surprising. In the autograph manuscript, it’s clear that Beethoven originally marked the tempo allegro molto e vivace, but later thought better of it, omitting the word molto. As is often the case with trio sections, the tempo relaxes a little, creating more contrast with the menuetto. Beethoven writes a lovely melody in the winds in the Trio, which Grove describes as “as delicate as the song of a robin singing, as robins do sing, over the departed delights of summer.” 

The finale (Allegro ma non troppo) features less syncopation and rhythmic play than previous movements and includes faster motives in the strings (especially the violins). The effect is almost that of a perpetuum mobile. To quote Berlioz again, “It is one animated swarm of sparkling notes, presenting a continual babble.” 

Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony was premiered in 1807 and calls for flute, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, two drums, and strings. 

DSCH 
Douglas Schmidt 

Canadian composer and bandoneonist Douglas Schmidt has been composer-in-residence with the Esprit Orchestra and the Victoria Symphony, and performs extensively with orchestras around the world. Schmidt recently remarked that he is focusing more on improvisation “as a most powerful tool of composition and music creation.” 

Schmidt’s DSCH was commissioned in 2006 by the CBC Radio Orchestra with Alain Trudel as part of a project honoring Dmitri Shostakovich’s 100th birthday. The idea was to “bring [Shostakovich’s] legacy alive in the 21st century,” and the program featured Shostakovich’s first cello concerto with Montreal-based cellist Yegor Dyachkov, the Incidental Music to Hamlet, and two suites of newly commissioned works by ten composers inspired by Shostakovich’s musical signature. Shostakovich included his signature in most of his works, including four notes representing his initials, D-S-C-H, translated into musical notation as D-E flat-C-B.  

Schmidt’s DSCH is scored for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn, trumpet, percussion, and strings.  

Piano Concerto No. 1, op. 35 in C minor and Piano Concerto No. 2, op. 102, F Major 
Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) 

Dmitri Shostakovich finished his first piano concerto in 1933, when he was 27 years old. Like several of his contemporaries, he was an excellent pianist and performed the work himself; he also went on to compose a lot more work for his instrument. Despite his relatively young age, Shostakovich had already completed three symphonies, two full ballets, an opera, and various other smaller works. He was also not yet (publicly, at least) in trouble with Stalin; that would come on the heels of his second opera, Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, about two years in the future. For the moment, all was well. Shostakovich was at this time, according to annotator Peter Laki, “youthful… full of wit and energy but also displaying a rich lyrical vein.” Lake goes on to outline the decade as a “happy time for the composer was the darling of Leningrad musical scene. His music was everywhere: in the concert hall, at the theatre and in films.” 

Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 1 is not, strictly speaking, only for piano. Sometimes called “for piano, trumpet, and strings,” or “for piano with the accompaniment of string orchestra and trumpet,” the trumpet is called on for more than just acting as part of the accompanimental ensemble. When Shostakovich performed it, he sometimes performed with the trumpeter sitting near the piano instead of in the back of the orchestra from where the trumpeter would normally accompany. 

Already drawn strongly to sharp incisive humor, Shostakovich is also clearly influenced here by extra-classical musics. Commentator Kenneth Woods cites Shostakovich’s experience in the 1920s of playing for silent films, which “obviously shaped this piece, which is full of music that sounds like it could have been ripped from a Charlie Chaplin film.” Annotator Richard Freed adds, “The First Concerto is not far removed from the burlesque character…. [It] is, indeed, all about clashing musical styles, and about blurring the boundaries between joke and serious matter – with the evident goal of delighting, but also confusing, the listener.” Besides references to popular musical styles, Shostakovich also referenced Beethoven in this work, and even included a few things lifted from his own earlier work! 

Shostakovich’s Concerto No. 1 is presented in four movements, rather than the traditional three. The first opens with the piano and trumpet, immediately after which the piano presents the first theme. This first theme is supposedly inspired by or based on Beethoven’s Sonata for Piano in F Minor, “Appassionata.” The second theme leads into what scholar Ian MacDonald calls “a circus-world of comic turns,” before the movement ends softly with the opening material. 

In the second movement, Shostakovich displays a gentler side, permeated with a reflectiveness and sweetly sad character. The strings are muted here, as is the trumpet, and set in something of a waltz. Shostakovich interjects in the middle with a short but jarring faster section but brings us back to the soft waltz in the trumpet. Laki describes the close of this movement as “ethereally soft…” 

Despite the addition of a movement to the traditional concerto form, the third movement really functions more as a transition between the second and fourth movements rather than as a whole in its own right. It opens with piano alone, before moving straight into the last movement, marked a lively Allegro con brio. Shostakovich quotes Beethoven again in this final movement, this time his Rondo a capriccio, Op. 129 “Rage over a Lost Penny” (in the cadenza). Laki also includes references to Haydn and Mahler. 

Aside from any outright references to Mahler that may be found in the finale, Shostakovich also shared something of his ethos with the composer. Woods points to the constant rub between “humour and grotesquery on the one hand… [and] the deepest tragedy and vulnerability on the other.” 

The first piano concerto is scored for trumpet, strings, and piano.  

Shostakovich wrote his Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major (Op. 102) in 1957 for his son, Maxim, on his 19th birthday. It comes almost a quarter of a century after the first and is very different. Author and lecturer Harlow Robinson points out how eventful those years were, full of “purges, war, evacuation, and a renewed Stalinist campaign against ‘formalism’ in the arts.” Despite the hardship and extreme stress caused by these circumstances, Shostakovich’s second piano concerto is cheerful.  

In a letter to one of his students, Shostakovich wrote that this concerto had “no artistic value,” but may have just been poking fun at Soviet standards surrounding artistic merit. In any case, his Second Piano Concerto contrasts strongly with the heavier Tenth and Eleventh Symphonies completed around the same time.  

Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2 is in three movements following the traditional fast-slow-fast form. The first movement opens with bassoons and woodwinds, follows traditional sonata form, and features a march-like theme. The second movement begins with muted strings and is reflective in character. Robinson likens it to a Bach chorale in some moments.   

The third movement features musical language that Robinson calls “notably transparent, featuring many passages in octaves and scales intentionally reminiscent of exercises assigned by a piano teacher.” He continues, “Like the Concertino for Two Pianos (1953), also written for Maxim, the Second Concerto was intended to be accessible to developing young pianists and makes relatively modest technical demands.”  

Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2 is scored for two flutes and piccolo, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, timpani, percussion, strings, and piano.