Day 251
8 September 2017:
Beethoven – Symphony No. 7 (1812)
Ludwig van Beethoven
was recovering from a series of health problems when he produced this brilliant
symphony. He considered it one of his best; an opinion probably influenced by
the fact that its immediate commercial success resolved financial issues that
had also previously dogged him. The work was first performed at a benefit
concert for injured Viennese soldiers, and with Vienna itself surfacing from
years of Napoleonic occupation there was a wave of triumphalism that Beethoven
was happy to ride. It's appropriate, therefore, that this evening's Prom
performance, with which this entry coincides, was by the Vienna Philharmonic
Orchestra.
It is a great
symphony, yet it's also slightly odd for the fact that the movement for which
it is best known is completely at odds with the bacchanalian energy of the two
that close the work. Both the scherzo
and finale are wild and exhilarating
dances, making this for the most part Beethoven's most joyous symphony. And yet
the highly original second movement, based on an insistent and funereal A minor
theme, is the one that received an immediate encore at its premiere. This truly
extraordinary movement was, for a time afterwards, played as a stand-alone
piece. The symphony's huge popularity undoubtedly derives from the fact that it
is so 'instant' and easily accessible. The contemporary opinion of Friedrich
Weick that it was 'the work of a drunkard' hasn't really stood the test of
time!
Day 252
9 September 2017: Bax
– Symphony No. 5 (1932)
Every winter between
1928 and 1940, Arnold Bax took himself off to the west of Scotland and holed up
in the tiny village of Morar for weeks on end. It takes a particular type of
gumption to choose to spend so long in some of the country's starkest
surroundings, in the worst weather, and feel compelled to do so year after
year. His devotion to duty in living in such surroundings to experience nature
in its wildest, unbridled form as musical inspiration is admirable.
Bax referred to the
compositions produced during this period as his 'craggy, northern works'. This
symphony in particular seems almost completely bereft of sunlight, with its
brooding opening for clarinets over a solemn drum beat setting a dark tone from
the off. The work is dedicated to, and in a small way modelled upon, the work of
another north country composer, Jean Sibelius. Depending on who you believe,
there are echoes Sibelius's first, fourth, or fifth symphony in Bax's music,
but there is a distinct relationship in mood, if not in harmonic language, with
the Finn's music. None of Bax's symphonies have titles, which may contribute in
some way to their continual neglect, but I'd support a move to append the
nickname 'Nordic Symphony' to this piece. Anything to help get it performed
somewhere. Anywhere.
Day 253
10 September 2017:
Mahler – Symphony No. 8 (1906)
Choral Symphony Sunday
again, and this really is the mother of all such works. Gustav Mahler's eighth
symphony is widely known as 'Symphony of a Thousand': an exaggeration of the
number of people required to perform it. Mahler himself objected to the
nickname, but it has kind of stuck. It may not require a thousand performers,
but the forces employed are still mightily impressive. In addition to a massive
orchestra to include an organ, four harps, a harmonium, a mandolin, quadruple
woodwind, and an additional off-stage brass ensemble, there is also the small
matter of two adult choirs, a children's choir, and an unprecedented eight
soloists. The long-awaited premiere in 1910 was attended by an 'A' list that
included the composers Strauss, Saint-Saëns and Webern, as well a young Leopold
Stokowski and the writer Thomas Mann. It was a phenomenal success, and its
masterpiece status has never been in dispute.
The symphony is two
parts. The first is a setting of the Veni,
Creator Spiritus, and as symphonic openings go, they don't come much better
than this. An all-stops-out organ chord tees up a declamation of the opening
line from the chorus before the full orchestral forces are unleashed. The second
part is a setting of the closing section of Goethe's dramatic poem Faust, and while this may seem an
incongruous pairing with the ninth-century Latin hymn that precedes it, the
unifying theme is that of redemption. Mahler's famous quote that a symphony should
contain the world is embodied in this work, which is grandiose in scale and
conception. I have an abiding memory of listening to this symphony on a Sony
Walkman while travelling around the Austrian Tyrol in 1988, and I've always
been unwilling to break the association with those magnificent surroundings.
Day 254
11 September 2017:
Kilar – Symphony No 3, 'September Symphony' (2003)
You probably formed
the impression some time ago that I'm a big fan of all things Polish, and you'd
be right. One of the many composers to have featured in my dissertation on
post-war Polish music, written when I was a student at Keele University, was Wojciech
Kilar. Kilar's career followed a very similar trajectory to that of his
near-exact contemporary Henryk Mikołaj Górecki. Both made their names as
leading lights in the avant garde New Polish School in the early-sixties. By
the nineties, however, they were achieving commercial success as purveyors of
the style rather sniffily described as holy minimalism. Kilar's success route
came through his involvement in film music, with his score for Francis Ford
Coppola's film Bram Stoker's Dracula
receiving critical acclaim.
Despite the lucrative
nature of his film music, Kilar continued to write concert works, and this is
the third of five symphonies he composed. It was a response to the 9/11 attacks
on the World Trade Centre, which happened 16 years ago today. Kilar had
developed what he described as an 'incurable, uncritical and unthinking'
fondness for America. He uses the song America,
the Beautiful as the basis for the work's thematic material, sometimes just
a fragment or an interval, and on other occasions a more recognisable
quotation. The slow-moving first movement is a kind of funeral service for the
victims of the attacks, but this is contrasted by a vigorous Allegro which is
the most clearly minimalist section of the work, based as it is around a repeated
single minor triad. The highlight of the symphony for me is the elegiac slow
movement. The first use of anything clearly identifiable as a melody coming
nearly 20 minutes into the work accentuated the effect of its soaring,
beautiful line. This injection of much needed quality into what was in danger
of becoming a rather bland symphony elevates it to the level where it is worthy
of its aims. It's one of Kilar's finest moments.
Day 255
12 September 2017:
Dvorák – Symphony No. 7 (1885)
Antonin Dvořák's
seventh symphony is regarded by many as his greatest, which is praise indeed
given that he went on to write his famous 'New World' symphony eight years
later. It was without doubt the composition that made his name as a symphonist
and one that held great personal significance for him. I've seen (very)
occasional references to this being known as the 'London Symphony', primarily
because it was commissioned by the London Philharmonic Society and received its
first performance in the city. The work is profoundly Czech, however, and was
the composer's attempt to draw attention to his compatriots' struggle for a
Czech homeland.
In addition to the
patriotic element, the symphony also contained music that drew upon his own
personal tragedies. In the period leading up to the work, Dvořák lost both his
mother and his eldest child, and the mournful second movement reflects this
sense of loss. There is no doubt that this music came from Dvořák's heart, with
the second movement suffixed by the footnote, 'From the sad years' – an
acknowledgment of his recent bereavements – and the score also carries the
patriotic proclamation, 'God, Love and Country'. The triumphant ending asserts
Dvořák's hope for the future of his nation and his personal defiance in the
face of tragedy. A composer's most personal work is usually their best, and
it's a view seldom truer than in this case.