Day 28
28 January 2017:
Tchaikovsky – Symphony No. 1 (1866)
Starting today, and
for the next seven days, I'm listening to a week of First Symphonies. Because
I'm covering all composers' works in chronological order – save for a few date-specific
exceptions – it is, inevitably, mostly first symphonies I'm listening to at the
moment. I thought I would consciously group a few together though, to explore
how different composers have tackled their first venture into symphonic
territory.
Of all the 'giants' of
classical music, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky is the one who tends to be the most
sneered at. Probably because he was never pushing boundaries or innovating, he
is, justly I suppose, viewed as quite conservative. He certainly formed no part
of my music degree for that very reason, but I could happily be cast away on a
desert island with his complete works. If it's possible to have a guilty
pleasure in classical music, then Tchaikovsky is mine.
Tchaikovsky's first,
which carries the name 'Winter Daydreams' is by no means his best-known
symphony. Although not exactly obscure, it's the fourth, fifth and especially
sixth that have become concert hall standards. It apparently caused him more
physical and mental anguish than any piece he ever wrote, although this doesn't
manifest itself in the music, which is light and graceful, and makes use of
Russian folk-song. Above all, as with all of Tchaikovsky's music, it's
absolutely dripping with wonderful tunes.
Day 29
29 January 2017: Bax –
Symphony No. 1 (1922)
Arnold Bax is a
composer I've had the greatest fondness for ever since my student days. His
symphonic poems Tintagel, Garden of Fand and November Woods were almost as much
the soundtrack to my twenties as U2. His symphonies were a later discovery for
me, and while they lack the clear visual imagery of the poems, they're still a
great body of work. You would, however, go a long way before you found an
orchestra playing one in a concert hall.
The first symphony,
which Bax started to write three years after the Great War, is seen by many as
a reaction to that conflict. Its opening militaristic theme in the brass and
percussion evolves into a triumphal march in the final movement, which lends
weight to this argument. In reality, that almost certainly wasn't the case,
with Charles Grove asserting that it was more likely the 1916 Easter Rising in
Ireland – a place Bax regarded as his spiritual home, even though he wasn't
Irish – that provided the inspiration. Either way, it's well worth a listen.
Day 30
30 January 2017:
Rautavaara – Symphony No. 1 (1955)
Einojuhani Rautavaara,
who died only last year, is not exactly a household name outside of his native
Finland. If you were really paying attention, you'll recall that he was a pupil
of Roger Sessions, who I featured three days ago. Incidentally, Rautavaara's
opportunity to study with Sessions at the Juilliard School in New York came
when Sibelius, in honour of his 90th birthday, was asked to nominate a young
Finnish composer to attend. It's clear that the directions master and pupil
took after their time together were markedly different, as this work, which
actually predates Sessions' first symphony by two years, is poles apart from
the serialist piece produced by his teacher.
Rautavaara's style
went through a variety of phases, and he also had a tendency to radically
revise works, meaning no definitive version ever really exists. This symphony
was written in 1955 (the linked video is of this version), but he revised it in 1988, and then in 2003 he added an
entirely new central movement. I would normally regard such a substantial later
change as an incongruous addition, but it's so completely beautiful that I just
can't hold that view. It's an almost transcendental symphony, and the lush
writing for strings grabs your attention right from the off.
Day 31
31 January 2017: Glass
– Symphony No. 1 'Low' (1992)
Philip Glass had moved
away from the hardcore minimalism for which he had become famous when he
decided to write his first symphony. As anyone who has ever tried to listen to
all four-and-a-half hours of his opera Einstein On The Beach will testify,
stretching repetitive figures over a large-scale work becomes pretty hard
going. By the late-eighties though, Glass's music had become far more
accessible, and with his breakthrough piece The Light – his first for a
symphony orchestra – he paved the way for the first of what is now ten
symphonies, with an eleventh on the way.
I'll be honest, I
heard this symphony before I heard the Bowie album, and without that context it
did sound to me, at the time, just like an extended-form version of The Light.
The symphony's outer movements are based on the tracks Subterraneans and
Warszawa from side two of the album (or what would have been side two in the
days when albums had sides), and are pretty much direct quotes at the outset.
These quotes essentially become musical cells that Glass uses to grow
organically using his well-established minimalist techniques. The central
movement is based on the track Some Are, which wasn't featured on the album,
and to this day I've never heard it. In many ways, this movement is closer to
old-school Glass with far more emphasis on rhythmic repetition. Glass would
return to Bowie four years with his Heroes Symphony – I’ve got that scheduled
in for some time in December. But for the time being ... Happy 80th Birthday,
Philip!