Friday, January 16, 2009

Judgement and Inspiration

Dies Irae - Day of Wrath - is the name of the greatest of all medieval Latin hymns, the Gregorian Chant of the Dead, part of the Requiem Mass. It is a powerful description of Judgment Day at the end of the world – a day of divine wrath and a day of mourning - and a prayer to Jesus for mercy. It was probably written by Friar Thomas of Celano (who died circa 1256), a Franciscan who knew St. Francis.

It’s terribly gloomy and perhaps reflects not only a harsh theology of God as avenger and judge but may also echo the severity and hardship of the times in which it was written. But it has been an extraordinary inspiration for several composers of classical as well as religious music. Requiems by Bach, Mozart, Brahms and Verdi include the forbidding words, but Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique, Tchaikovsky’s Third Suite and Saint Saens’ Organ Symphony No.3 also use the menacing tune of the chant. It appears in many of Rachmaninoff’s works, notably The Isle of the Dead and The Symphonic Dances, which I referred to in my most recent blog, and was almost his last composition. Did it have a special significance for him, I wonder? Unfairly, he is often portrayed as a grave and pessimistic man.

I have just been listening to Liszt’s ‘Totentanz’ ( Dance of Death) in a new recording by Eldar Nebolsin who, although born in Uzbekistan, studied in Madrid and had his first triumph in Spain, in the international piano competition in Santander. He is a brilliant pianist and in this recording on the Naxos label, is partnered by the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra under its permanent conductor, Vasily Petrenko. In the notes to the recording Keith Anderson suggests Liszt was inspired to write the work by a fresco rather than by the words of the Requiem. (Thinking about his unusual marital arrangements, he would have been wise not to worry too much about the after life!). But in thunderous tones he employs again the familiar tune. I bought the CD because it received a rave review – which is justified. The main works are Liszt’s two piano concertos in wonderful performances. They are by definition ‘performance’ pieces with opportunity for the soloist to display his or her technique, although musically I find all three works disappointing.

I am indebted to an American website simply called DIES IRAE for these background notes. The writer points out that the Polish classical composer Krzysztof Penderecki named his famed "Auschwitz Oratorio" Dies Irae. " And so, composers continue to find inspiration in what otherwise might seem unpromising material . Is it the theme or is it the tune? Or both?

B.R.

Monday, January 05, 2009

Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943)

I am an unashamed devotee of Rachmaninoff’s music and have just been playing a 1990 CD, recently re-released, of his Third Symphony, stunningly performed by the Moscow State Symphony Orchestra under Pavel Kagan (on the bargain alto label). It’s a favourite work of mine and hearing it on this re-mastered disc has been a revelation. On the same disc is another superb performance of his Symphonic Dances, both works belonging to the end of his career, both poorly received by the public on their first performances and given to much revision afterwards as was often his practice, even making changes just before a performance. His recording of the third piano concerto which I have and which he made in 1940, has several cuts in the score, to the disappointment of musical purists. And me!

Responding to an invitation for him to perform in Stockholm, he and his wife and two daughters, as their part of Moscow was taken over by the revolutionaries, virtually escaped from Russia in 1917. They caught a train to Finland, completing their journey by travelling from Finland to Sweden by sledge at night. The family arrived in Stockholm with hand luggage, two thousand roubles and nothing else. Moving eventually to America, he made his home in many places and travelled widely as both composer, conductor and pianist. But international citizen though he became, he saw himself always as Russian. Interviewed in 1941 he said ‘in my compositions no conscious effort has been made to be original, or Romantic or Nationalistic, or anything else. I write down on paper the music I hear within me, as naturally as possible. I am a Russian composer, and the land of my birth has influenced my temperament and outlook. ‘

The third symphony was received with some enthusiasm in Britain but less so in the U.S.A. People were reluctant to accept him on his own terms and critics and the public found him either too traditional or too radical. His great long-breathed tunes and brilliant orchestration remind one of Tchaikovsky (whom he knew of course; as a student he made a piano transcription of the Manfred Symphony, and played it to the composer), but point to influences by Stravinsky and even, for me - in the Symphonic Dances -to Mahler and Bartok. But he was himself, and whatever his influences, the popularity that marked the last years of his life as he continued to perform on both sides of the Atlantic, has endured, and if his second piano concerto continues to be his signature work for many people, there is much, much more to know about him than that one enormously popular work.

He died just before his seventieth birthday, and the day before a cable arrived form many Soviet composers, congratulating him on his birthday. His music will live for ever.

B.R.