Day 64
5 March 2017:
Myaskovsky – Symphony No. 10 (1927)
Nikolai Myaskovsky
wrote an incredible 27 symphonies, so I feel a bit mean in only choosing one of
them to focus on this year. This is arguably his best, however, and the first
in which he condensed the traditional four-movement symphonic structure down to
a single-movement work – following the precedent set by Sibelius in his seventh
symphony three years earlier. As a consequence, it comes in at under 20 minutes
in length, but, as he himself described it to Prokofiev, it is 'as massive as
if it were made of iron'.
Like Shostakovich,
Myaskovsky would fall foul of the Soviet authorities in later life. This dates
from just before Stalinism really kicked in, however, and as a result is quite
uncompromising in it musical language. The challenges it posed were too much
for the communist-ideal, conductorless orchestra for which it was written, and
its first performance was a disaster. Later performances were more successful,
thankfully. It is influenced by Pushkin's poem The Bronze Horseman, and is broadly programmatic without attempting
to precisely tell the story. The ferocious power of the flood that drowns the
main protagonist of the poem is conveyed by the large, brass-heavy orchestra
for which it is scored. Massive, yet concise – Myaskovsky pulls off quite a
trick in the piece.
Day 65
6 March 2017: Sibelius
– Symphony No. 1 (1900)
Seven years after his Kullervo Symphony, Jean Sibelius wrote
his first numbered symphony, which is every bit as conventional as its
predecessor wasn't. Although completed in 1899, it was almost immediately
revised and the version we know today dates from 1900. Because Sibelius was
still alive, although not composing, in 1957 I often find it hard to reconcile
that a large proportion of Sibelius's work, including this symphony, dates from
the 19th century. Although there are slight echoes of Tchaikovsky in this
piece, it seems otherwise almost bereft of influence, which somehow makes it
feel timeless.
The symphony contains
some wonderful melodic writing, especially in the first movement, and while it
doesn't perhaps maintain its focus throughout, the way his later symphonies do,
it's still a thoroughly enjoyable listen. This work helped make Sibelius's name
abroad, particularly in Britain and America, yet it would probably be very few
people's favourite Sibelius symphony. Perhaps it suffered for being eclipsed
somewhat by the monumental second symphony that followed it.
Day 66
7 March 2017: Nielsen
– Symphony No. 2, 'The Four Temperaments' (1902)
Staying in
Scandinavia, we hop across the Baltic to Denmark for Carl Nielsen's second
symphony. Written just two years after Sibelius's first, Nielsen's work didn't
achieve the same instant popularity as that of his Finnish contemporary. In
fact, it was actually quite poorly received at its first few performances. The
title comes from the fact that each of the four movements represents one of the
four 'humours' of Greco-Roman medicine. The first movement is Choleric, the second Phlegmatic, the third Melancholic, and the fourth Sanguine.
The melancholy of the
third movement is profound enough, and the optimistic finale is suitably
sanguine, but the characteristics are otherwise not obvious to the casual
listener, certainly not in the first two movements anyway. It's probably best
to pay no attention to them, and accept this as a fine late-Romantic symphony
from a composer who was still, at the time, influenced by the likes of Brahms
and Dvorak, but gradually finding his own voice.
Day 67
8 March 2017: Gloria
Coates – Symphony No. 4, 'Chiaroscuro' (1984)
It's only right that I
feature a female composer on International Women's Day, and this symphony by
Gloria Coates is a suitably brilliant work to mark it with. Coates was born in
Wisconsin, but has lived in Munich for almost 50 years now. Her music makes
prominent use of microtones and glissandi – she uses glissandi a lot –
alongside standard tuning to create a tonal instability that is quite unlike
anything else I've heard. Many other composers, notably Penderecki and Xenakis,
have employed these techniques, but not in stark juxtaposition with
conventional methods.
She has written 16
symphonies to date, and her fourth is probably the most striking. Chiaroscuro, the oil painting technique
of contrasted light and shadow, is played upon here with tonal music offset
against disorientating writing elsewhere in the orchestra. The first movement, Illumination, is absolutely
mind-blowing. It features Purcell's famous lament from Dido and Aeneas, but the tune is constantly being lost in a
swirling and disorientating fog of glissandi. It's like hearing something
familiar on a faint, long wave radio signal that keeps drifting in and out of
tune, occasionally lost in the static. This a genuine contemporary masterpiece.
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