About this Piece

Czech composer Antonín Dvořák sought his inspiration in all quarters. In a famous essay, “Music in America,” he wrote: “Nothing must be too low or too insignificant for the musician. When he walks, he should listen to every whistling boy, every street singer or blind organ player. It is a sign of barrenness, indeed, when such characteristic bits of music are not heeded by the learned musicians of the age.” In 1892, already a “learned musician,” Dvořák was invited to become Artistic Director and Professor of Composition at the National Conservatory of Music of America, based in New York City.

The conservatory management wanted the “old world” master to help establish an American sound in the concert hall, so upon his arrival at the conservatory, Dvořák sought out music that was distinctly American. He wrote: “In the Negro melodies of America I have discovered all that is needed for the creation of a great and noble school of music. These beautiful and varied themes are the product of the soil, they are the folk songs of America.” There is no doubt that the Czech composer was under the spell of both African American spirituals and Native American music, but his output reflects mostly the European concert tradition. Indeed, the subtitle to his Ninth Symphony, “From the New World,” was only an afterthought added by the composer just as he was about to send the score off to the publisher.

The symphony is conventional in form, a four-movement work that follows the established pattern. The opening is more reminiscent of Beethoven than of folk music, particularly the forceful timpani swats that seem to echo similar moments in Beethoven’s Ninth. Low strings, then horns, introduce a bold theme that will be heard throughout the entire work. The Largo second movement has been the focus of much speculation. An African American spiritual—or at least the five-note, pentatonic scale that is often prominent in those songs—seems to have inspired the plaintive melody that begins this movement. In the scherzo, Dvořák carefully balances the Beethovenian bluster with a waltz that could easily have come from a Czech village dance.

The finale begins with a brassy melody that has the energy of a folk dance. Then comes a new, wistful second theme in the clarinets; a wacky, three-note “Three Blind Mice” transition; another reference or two to Beethoven; and continual reiterations of themes from the beginning of the first movement and the finale’s opening.

In the long run, it really doesn’t make any difference where Dvořák found his inspiration. We continue to value the “New World” Symphony precisely because it has come to mean many things to many people. —Excerpted from a note by Dave Kopplin