and
An Inktroduction to his Fifth Symphony
by the
Inkpot Sibelius Nutcasetm
Version 2.0
with warmest regards to
my good friend Francisco Simán
Republished at dustofhue.com
Not far away in the capital of Finland, the Helsinki
Orchestra, under the baton of Sir Malcolm Sargent, was performing the
composer's Fifth Symphony at the exact time of the composer's death.
I have constantly wondered about this little piece of
history, almost sentimentally romantic, yet heroic in its appropriateness.
Heroic because while the composer was struggling with the Symphony between
1914 and 1919, the world was plunged into its first great modern war.
Composing within a period of immense physical and spiritual
destruction, one might have expected a composer to create a historically-"appropriate"
musical document of the times. But no, the symphony that Sibelius created
was almost the complete opposite: life-affirming, heroic, noble, and brimming
with humanity in the face of nature's majesty.
The final version of Sibelius' Symphony No.5 in E flat
major, Op.82 was completed in 1919, the year after the Great War. It begins
with the "original" sunrise music which so many film composers have sought
to reproduce - a serene horn call at dawn, heralding answers of birdcall
on the woodwind. As the mood of anticipation unfolds, the material is
developed until it pours into a swinging string theme which preceeds a
trumpet call echoing through the mountains. The music, sometimes misty
and ominous, nevertheless never sounds completely "modern" in the "atonal"
sense (crudely speaking), yet it is distinctively "modern" in its almost
strange otherworldly progression of material.
But the composition, growth and final manifestation of
this symphony was not easy for Sibelius. Although he was an avid (and
sometimes pained) revisionist of his own works, self-critical as he was,
no other work of his had to endure so much revision.
THE TIME was 1914 - Stravinsky's Rite of Spring
had already rocked Paris, and Schoenberg was.... well, making his reputation
as Schoenberg. Sibelius was working on his Fifth, Sixth and to some extent
his Seventh Symphonies at the same time.
Sibelius, when you think about his music, does not fit
into the picture here. Placed against these "modern" contemporaries, one
is easily tempted to believe that Sibelius is an old-fashioned Romantic.
Yes and no. Unlike the "high modernists", Sibelius still composed music
that is on the surface optimistic and melodic; but like his counterparts,
he too was aware of the renewed 20th century interest in the neo-classical
ideal of form. Nevertheless, faced with the onslaught of the multi-faceted
"modernist" era, Sibelius sought to realign his perspective towards his
position as a composer.
By saying this, Sibelius does not discount the importance
of form (in this case, the form of the symphony as genre), but places
it at the logical service of content. Content being the musical substance,
or the theme which is the basis of a piece of music. This then, is exactly
what "organic growth", which we Sibelians like to talk about, is based
upon. The form of the cell, which makes up the body, is 'meaningless'
unless it has a content, a personality. What are we without our personalities
except empty vessels, mechanicals.
Perhaps then, the reason why Sibelius' music remains
so directly appealing, so lyrical and accessible, is simply because to
him, content is king. He comes up with the theme(s) first, before he allows
it to evolve into a symphony. This is in direct contrast to the absolute
formalists, who allowed the theoretical concepts of form (eg. serialism,
minimalism) to determine its content (which is secondary).
Having created a theme, Sibelius' job was to determine
how the theme "struggled" into and towards its "final" form.
On April 10th, 1915, Sibelius wrote in his diary: Clearly, Sibelius himself was struggling with his own
paradigm of composition. What is composition? In his diary, he highlights
the "disposition" (personality) of the themes - which are "mysterious"
and "fascinat[ing]". The mosaic pieces (themes) are there before him,
but their final form (imagine a completed jig-saw puzzle) eludes him until
he has "composed" them together.
"Perhaps that is a good definition of composition. Perhaps
not." Sibelius himself could not be sure - the magic of composition is
an eternal mystery, as is the magic of nature's life.
"How should I know?" This query is crucial in understanding
Sibelius' self-critical nature and his revisionist tendencies. No one
subscribing to Sibelius' paradigm can easily say "My composition is finished".
Why? Because one cannot easily know that a content has reached its most
optimum form. Is there such a thing as a final end? Can we stop evolving
one day and say, the human form is now perfect, and does not need to change
any more? The same query surfaces when Sibelius composed/evolved a theme
towards symphonic perfection - how does he know when it has reached the
"correct" form?
I don't think even he could or would answer this question
(Sibelius did not like to talk about his compositional processes). But
we can see aspects of the answer in his symphonic canon. One answer lies
in understanding perhaps the most perfect of his symphonies - the Seventh.
Another answer lies in understanding the evolution of the Fifth.
On 30th July 1914, Sibelius' old friend and supporter
Axel Carpelan wrote to him: "...[L]isten to your own inner promptings...
Follow your own star and stick to the symphonic path." The composer strengthened
his position.
SIBELIUS HAD been racing against time to complete
the symphony to be performed at his 50th birthday concert celebration.
When the symphony was first heard in December 1915, it comprised four
movements.
The Fifth Symphony (1915) was premiered by the composer
and the orchestra (see photo above right) on 8 December, Sibelius' 50th
birthday. After the performance, Robert Kajanus delivered a speech, proclaiming:
This quotation seems simple enough, with almost clichéd
"Romantic" images. But are they coincidental, this exact choice of phrases?
Away with the "spades and picks" of human artifice; there is no need for
these formal tools. Instead, the sound arises from the "wilderness", Finnish
music's "mighty springs" is a great torrent bursting forth from nature.
Perhaps I am over-reading things, but indulge me. The
story of the Fifth Symphony is immersed in a great many diary entries
and quotations from the composer, many appearing to be nothing more than
innocent Romantic exclamations at the wonders of nature.
On November 13, 1914, Sibelius had written in his diary
another one of his heartfelt bits of literature which beautifully fuses
nature's beauty and his own emotions: Earth, worms and heartache. Time and time again,
we Sibelians must assert how one cannot underestimate the power, influence
and love that existed between Sibelius and nature. In his hands, the very
wet earth sings.
This planned Adagio was not, in fact, realised.
In its place was the Andante mosso, quasi allegretto as we know
it today. A tender and lyrical work still. Over a light orchestral field
of soft grass, the woodwind and strings take turns to gently weave a lightly
treading theme that, as if reaching the top of a hill, watches the beauty
of the sky unfold a lyrical and nostalgic melody over the strings. Hints
of the next movement's mighty "Swan Hymn" appear inconspicuously on the
basses and brass.
One day, on his routine walk through the countryside,
Sibelius watched as sixteen swans flew overhead, a sight which took his
breath away:
This momentary encounter with nature's glorious beauty
evidently inspired the awe-inspiring yet gently heroic swinging horn theme
of the Fifth Symphony's finale. The orchestral strings summon a great
ascending wind of energy before the mighty breaths that nature breathes
into the horns begin their song. Axel Carpelan called it, after the composer's
own image, "the incomparable swan hymn" (Dec 15, 1916).
The swinging horns are soon joined by a long-breathed
melody on the woodwinds, which intone a beautifully simple hymn-like theme
above the undulating current of basses. As the swans soar into ever higher
spheres of living spirit, Sibelius modulates the potent music into a glorious
C major, creating what many have acknowledged as one of the most magnificent
and affirmative climaxes in music.
THE ORIGINAL 1915 version is in many senses quieter
and not as bold as the final version. For example, the dawning horn-call
of the opening is missing. Instead, you have a serene sky of soft horns
where, almost tentatively, the woodwinds call out to each other. Even
more significantly, the original Fifth is darker. I don't mean to say
that the music sounds less "tonal" or is more sad. Rather, the contrast
between sections of light and darkness is much greater.
If the final Fifth is "light/dawn", and the Fourth Symphony
is "dark/dusk", then the original Fifth is a magical aurorae of wavering
darkness and light, full of mystery. It encapsulates the organic-musical
link between the "bleak" Fourth and the optimistic Fifth, a bridge that
I had been looking for for years.
I have never understood why so many commentators have
called the original Fifth startlingly different from the final. To me,
the feeling of kinship between these "twins" was immediately recognisable.
You can see the way the original "grew" into the final version.
Despite its ethereal floating chords and textures, the
magical rushes of quiet wonder, some critics have called the original
version "uneventful", "rhythmically unfocussed" and generally less forward
in character. To me, these are elements of subtlety, and speak of Sibelius'
ability for economy of expression with maximum effect. The 1915 version
is more "innocent", drifting mistily for the home of its final form.
That is exactly what happens by the time the 1919 version
appeared. But before that, troubles continued. On his 51st birthday, the
1916 version was premiered to mixed reviews. Only a double bass part survives
of this score, but we know that the original first two movements have
already joined.
In May 1918, Sibelius had proposed writing a new first
movement for the symphony, but he decided against it in February 1919.
In a letter to Axel Carpelan: A misterioso section follows the Swan Hymn. The
muted violins create a shimmering field of light and mist while the flute
quietly reminisces its hymn. Beneath this, the basses intone undercurrents
of energy, sounding like the deep breaths that heave in nature's forests,
mountains and seas. An earthly heartbeat. An ocean's breath of life.
In its transformation, the Symphony did indeed become
more vibrant - its energy is more direct, its brilliance more staggering,
its drive unstoppable, its very life more glorious. Halfway through the
finale, the mood turns melancholy once again, and I cannot help but wonder
if somewhere during the final revision, Sibelius had turn his thoughts
once more to his departed friend, to his heart full of sadness, to nature's
mysticism and life's angst, perhaps even towards all of humanity in the
year after the war, and last but not least, the birth of Finnish independence.
Here then, was the final Fifth, in more "human" form.
They say silence can be deafening. Here, in this symphony,
lies one of the most unique endings in music. As the music revives the
Swan Hymn on the trumpets, triumphantly ascending out of the darkness,
the symphony drives the music into a conclusion comprising six massive
orchestral chords. But these are not the hammer blows of death, but the
affirmations of life.
SIBELIUS SAID that when he finished revising the
final version of the Symphony, at the moment he laid down his pen, "twelve
white swans settled down on the lake, and then circled the house three
times before flying away."
Was it truly finished? In April 1919, Sibelius' cast
doubt once again even as the final version approached 'finality'. Where have we heard this before? Yes, the Seventh
Symphony. Sibelius had already realised that "here" is where it all
begins - the idea, the concept of the continuous symphonic singularity
which is part symphonic development, part "fantasia" of evolving themes.
DECADES AGO, as Sibelius passed from this world,
Sir Malcolm Sargent would have directed the Helsinki Orchestra in the
six hammer blows.
As the orchestra forges each chord into the being of
sound, the silence between each chord reverberates in the ears, in the
spirit, proclaiming the mysticism of nature's voices and the pain of life
in all its ephemeral beauty. But life, like the search for symphonic perfection,
symphonic life, goes on.
As Sibelius died, his Symphony lived; and as his Symphony
died, Sibelius lived.
ON THE EVENING of the 20th of
September 1957, Jean Sibelius died. He was aged 91.
It is a timeless movement, inexorably, naturally propelling its way. Nothing
prepares one for the shift into the original second movement, the Allegro
moderato, which Sibelius seamlessly joins to the first. And nothing
prepares one for the burst of energy which drives the movement with brassy
splendour to its end. And yet, throughout, there is no sense of a break,
no sense that there has been a "change." It is as if continents have sailed
their way across the earth, changing climates, changing flora and fauna,
and yet the land remains the same.
It is often thought
that the essence of a symphony lies in its form, but this is certainly
not the case. The content is always the primary factor, while form is
secondary, the music itself determining its outward form.
Our personality modifies our basic form; how we react to the world moulds
the basic form which nature gives us, in order that we can handle that
world. This piece of Darwinism is naturally kin to Sibelius' brand of
musical evolution, of organic symphonic development.
Spent
the evening with the [Fifth] symphony. The disposition of the themes:
with all its mystery and fascination, this is the important thing. It
is as if God the Father had thrown down mosaic pieces from heaven's floor
and asked me to put them back as they were. Perhaps that is a good definition
of composition. Perhaps not. How should I know?
It was played with a 50-member ensemble, the newly formed Helsinki Philharmonic
Orchestra. This ensemble was created when the Philharmonic (or National)
Orchestra of Robert Kajanus and the Helsinki Symphony Orchestra of Georg
Schnéevoigt, both rivals, buried the hatchet and united in 1914. But oops,
the First World War also broke out - the more than a hundred members of
the orchestra were reduced to 50-something as the German musicians went
home.
As
far as our Finnish music is concerned, it scarcely existed when Jean Sibelius
struck his first powerful chords... Barely had we begun to till the barren
soil, when a tremendous sound arose from the wilderness. Away with spades
and picks. Finnish music's mighty springs came bursting forth. A great
torrent burst forth to engulf all before it. Jean Sibelius alone showed
the way.
I have
had a wonderful idea. The Adagio of the symphony - earth, worms
and heartache - fortissimos and muted strings, very muted. And the sounds
are godlike. Have rejoiced and revelled in rushing strings when the soul
sings.
One of my greatest experiences! My God what beauty!
... Their call the same woodwind type as that of cranes, but without tremolo.
The swan-call closer to trumpet, although there is something of a sarrusophone
sound. A low refrain reminiscent of a small child crying. Nature's Mysticism
and Life's Angst! The Fifth Symphony's finale-theme: Legato in the trumpets!
By the end of 1915, Sibelius had become disillusioned with the symphony.
On 26 January, 1916, as he worked on the first revision, he wrote:
I
must confess I am working again on Sym.5. Struggling with God. I want
to give my new symphony a different, more human form. More earthy, more
vibrant.
CIVIL WAR broke out in Finland as the nation declared its independence
in December 1917, and Sibelius did not resume the revision until mid-1918.
At this time, he experienced further doubts, wondering if at all the work
was even symphonic. It is interesting to think whether the point that the
music is so out of sync with the moods of the times had any effect on the
composer; or whether, it is in fact his willingness to be different from
other composers allowed him the power to turn aside the darkness of the
times.
These
days have been very successful. Saw things very clearly. The first movement
of the Fifth Symphony is one of the best things I've ever written. Can't
understand my blindness.
The spiritual and musicological support from Axel Carpelan (right) was
of great importance to the composer, and in many ways have helped give
us the Fifth Symphony as we hear it today. His death in March 1919 affected
Sibelius greatly:
How
empty life seems. No sun, no music, no affection. How alone I am with
all my music... Now Axel is laid to rest in the cold earth. It feels so
immeasurably and profoundly sad. For whom shall I compose now?
Have
cut out the second and third movements. The first movement is a symphonic
fantasia and does not require anything else. That's where it all began!!!
Shall I call it "Symphonie in einem Satze" ["Symphony in one movement"]
or "symphoniesche Fantasie: Fantasia sinfonica I"?
Even as the Fifth Symphony approached 'completion', it had already more
than prophesised the beginning and continuation of its symphonic essence.
The Fifth is but an aspect of the Seventh; these are not merely individual
symphonies, but overlapping and interweaving levels of an unparalleled
symphonic journey that began in the earth, and developed into the Seventh
and Tapiola.
REFERENCES
BARNETT, Andrew. Essay on the Fifth Symphony from BIS-863. From which many quotations here have their source.FURTHER READING
Sibelius: Symphony No.5
Cambridge Music Handbooks, 1993
by James Hepokoski.
ISBN 0-521-40958-6.
|
S
I B E L I U S Nature is coming to life: that life which I so love, now and always, whose essence shall pervade everything which I compose. |
The Inkpot
Sibelius Nutcase spent so much time, blood and feathers on this article
that he actually had a dream about the symphony.
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INKTRODUCTIONS:
CD REVIEWS:
The Lahti Symphony/Vänskä Cycle (BIS, 1996-99):
Nos. 1 & 4
Nos.2 & 3
No.5 (original and final versions)
Nos. 6 & 7, and Tapiola
The Bournemouth Symphony/Berglund Cycle (1970s)
Click here
The Iceland Symphony/Sakari Cycle (Naxos, 1996-2000)
Nos. 1 & 3
No. 2 & Tempest Suite
#1
Nos. 4 & 5
Nos. 6 & 7. Tempest
Suite No.2
Finlandia. Karelia
Suite. Lemminkäinen Suite