Thursday, 2 May 2013

4 & 5 May

CLASSICAL BREAK
Rachmaninoff’s First Symphony in D Minor, Op13

NOTE:  This script is the original version, but due to it overrunning our time slot, the final programme omits some of the introductory analysis. I have left it in here for interest. 
This programme was fiirst broadcast in June 2012. RK

Cue:  Extract from 2nd Movt, Piano Trio in D Minor

 “If there were a conservatory in Hell, if one of its talented students were instructed to write a          programme symphony on “The Seven Plagues of Egypt”, and if he were to compose a symphony like Mr Rachmaninov’s, then he would have fulfilled his task brilliantly and would bring delight to the inhabitants of Hell.  But for the time being we are still living on earth, and this music has a depressing effect on us, with its broken rhythms, obscurity and vagueness of form, the meaningless repetition of the same short tricks, the nasal sound of the orchestra, the intense crash of brass, and above all the sickly, perverse hamonization and quasi-melodic outlines, and the complete lack of simplicity and naturalness, the complete lack of themes.”

With these words were dismissed the ambitions of a twenty-four year-old graduate pianist and composer; not just any graduate either, but the Gold Medal-holding Sergei Vasileyevitch Rachmaninoff, lately of the Moscow Conservatoire.  This is Classical Break, on Somer Valley FM, and I’m Rupert KIrkham.  Today’s programme is given over to Rachmaninoff’s extraordinary First Symphony, a work repudiated by him after a disastrous premiere at St Petersburg, given by the Russian Orchestral Society and conducted by Alexandr Glazunov.

Rachmaninoff himself tore up the score and later described it to a close friend as strained, childish and bombastic, but not wholly weak, its worse fault being bad orchestration; furthermore, he could not understand how a musician like Glazunov - one of Russia’s foremost composers and teachers, a great figure among the staff at the St Petersburg Conservatoire - could have conducted  so badly.  Rachmaninoff’s cousin, later his wife, claimed Glazunov had been drunk. 

The First Symphony in D Minor is scored for large orchestra.  From double-basses and (superb) tuba up to piccolo, the instrumentation is extremely well judged.  The form is cyclical with a short, snarling motto that colours or generates all the matter of its four movements.  Autocratically expressive,   this is possibly the first Russian symphony to take its chapter and verse from knowledge of znameniy or Orthodox liturgical chants as well as folk-music, and it echoes also the bells of Mousorgsky’s Boris Gudonov.  Moreover, the Catholic chant, Dies Irae, an idée-fixe of that other pianist composer, Franz Liszt, Is never far from the shape of things. Rachmaninoff was to make this fate-motif his own - it occurs in almost all his large-scale works! 

Cue:  Extract from Piano Trio in D Minor, Rachmaninoff
The first four notes of the motto-theme and an element of the second subject may have been carried over deliberately from the massive slow movement of the elegaic second Piano Trio in D Minor - written in memory of Tchaikovsky, who had mostly been very encouraging of Rachmaninoff’s efforts; assisted as an examiner in his graduation and died tragically two years before the Symphony was begun. The score is headed with the words, “Vengeance is mine (saith the Lord) I will repay.”  This quotation from the Scriptures occurs in Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, of which more later..

The brass motto with which the symphony opens is reminiscent of the beginning of Borodin’s Second Symphony.

Cue:  Opening of Second Symphony In B Minor, Borodin

Cue: Motto and 1st Subject, Rachmaninoff

(1d)   Besides a hint of the Dies Irae, there’s a woody coolness and purpose to the first subject, a continuation of the motto-theme - clarinet and then oboe prominent -  the first subject is built up of phrases from liturgical chants, a process his listeners would have been aware of on first hearing.  The subject has kinship  with the allegros of Rimsky-Korsakov, athletic, loose-limbed only because relying on sequence, the self-repetition of Jchoice narrow intervals, and contrapuntal entries.  Descending scalic figures - the clarinet’s being most noticeable - are built into the material.  A curious, overshadowed quality comes with changes in dynamics and scoring.   Tension rises to the hard-hitting first brassy climax, with its repeated-note tattoo - powerful in the lower brass and with an edge of hysteria added by the trumpet; it  falls away in murmurs - and in twirls the sinuous, feminine second subject on violins, astringent appoggiatura not permitting sinuousness to be relaxed.  The oboe, flutes and clarinet add plangency, the swell of the theme given the Tchaikovskian treatment - passionate first violins in unison, the horns glowing.
 Cue:  Second Subject, Rachmaninoff

(Link 1e) A kind of gipsy-music or orientalism is found in it, not unlike the orientalism of Balakirev, Borodin and Rimsky-Korsakov - composers venerated by the St Petersburg Conservatoire.  Rachmaninoff had written a stipulated one-act opera for his graduation exercise - Aleko, a story of gipsy life.  After a close - the motto murmuring - the development begins as does that of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, The Pathetique:  with a loud crash on brass and percussion. Here is the Tchaikovsky.


Cue:  Diminuendo and Outset of 1st Movt Development of Sixth Symphony in B Minor, Tchaikovsky.

(Link 1f)  And, for the last of these brief cues, here is the Rachmaninoff:

Cue:  Diminuendo and Outset of Development, Rachmaninoff  

(Link 1g)  A trumpet-shriek - the motto theme in an instant!  The divided strings launch into a fugato based on it.  Their lack of support elsewhere makes keeping their pitch tricky. 

More is brewing, with vindictive fanfare- and plainchant-like brass twitted by high woodwind, even as the motto sounds underneath on horns.  The strings reassert themselves:  in crashes a variant of the motto, with new, perhaps ‘perverse’ brass chords of real keenness - piccolo - and in some performances, glockenspiel -tingling atop what seem like deepbells.  The trumpets answer trombones and horns in antiphon.  Sublimity!  Yet  the effect of an upward pressure narrows the harmonic scope of the fanfare, if not the melodic.. It is  an intensely personal, memorable transformation, terse and ringing, swaying between feelings of major and minor. The music moves on as the strings take the theme over, returning it to its striving first subject shape.
A diminuendo.  All seems indistinct, misty - and clears as the second-subject comes in on flute.  It is now possible to hear this theme as a feminized development of the first subject; its deeply appoggiatura-ed hesitancy and ultimate fervour, and, at last, rich scoring remain moving in this reprise.  The episode of misty indistinctness heard earlier is altered to be like the swing of the tide, rocking.  The brass - gapped chords moving up the scale - presage the close of the movement.  Building up to a savage end derived from what went before it, dovetailing, canons and imitations between the sections of the orchestra now rend reticence to bits.  Derived from the first and second subject and the upward scale that accompanies the first subject, the final cadence, several lashing blows of Fate or impatience, is masterful.  

Track One:  First Symphony, l Grave, Allegro Ma Non Troppo, Rachmaninoff (13.45 min)

(Link 2a) This is Classical Break on Somer Valley FM, and I’m Rupert Kirkham.  Today’s programme is devoted to one piece, the Symphony in D Minor by Rachmaninoff.  What hectored critics missed at the premiere was that the ‘perversity’ they perceived is a source of great expressive power.  They reacted against the music’s commandingness, its organization, its aesthetic consistency and yet originality.  The orchestral parts survived, mostly complete, and were exhumed from the Leningrad Conservatoire archives in 1944.  The Symphony was performed in a typical Soviet volte-face the following year:  the performance of Rachmaninoff’s works in the Soviet Union had been banned a while after his escape from Revolutionary Russia.  A celebrity world--wide, he had made no secret, everywhere he went, of his hatred of the crimes of Bolshevism.  He had died in Beverly Hills the previous year, and the discovery proved that he belonged to Soviet Russia after all...  Rachmaninoff, who’d suffered from crippling nostalgia for his country, would not have liked the irony.

(Link 2b) That quotation, Vengeance is mine (saith the Lord) I will repay.  Rachmaninoff meant it to be a reference to Anna Karenina - the verse is quoted in the novel, apparently - but also to a lately-concluded affair with a married lady of gipsy blood!  The piece was dedicated to her - A.L. - Anna Alexandrovna Lodizhenskaya. 

(Link 2c)  Beginning with the motto-theme made douce, a simple, telling transformation in context, The second movement is an intermezzo rather than scherzo, mostly lightly scored.  It seems like woodland music, darting, as if breeze-blown among birch-trees - delicate with woodland flowers, the viola at times wry in solos less airy than the flute’s.  It is a hypersensitive mood-piece, a fantasy of alternate tensions on derivatives of first movement material.  There are harsh, driven moments on brass and lower strings, the first movement’s snarl and motto-theme never distant.  Where the music is brightest, most fine--spun, where it suggests sweetness or the slightest shade or fragrance, is perhaps where Anna is found and dwelt on.  Glazunov made a cut in this movement for the premiere.

After the viola’s nervy solo, the dark elements rise - only to be partly soothed and brought back to the mercurial mood and music of the opening.  Contrarities die out at last in the motto and semitonal oscillation.

Track Two:  ll Allegro Animato.

(Link 3)  Another movement of kaleidoscopic orchestration, the third movement is a beautifully-scored love song with lyrical woodwind solos and delicate touches of appoggiatura from the violins and violas.  It begins with the fate-motif and develops the Symphony’s first and second subjects.  Beauty is interrupted by a passage  of savage foreboding in the bass of the orchestra, symbolizing jealousy with the Dies Irae, perhaps.  The viola picks up the song where it left off, and real passion - and hypersensitivity - return to the music, building through repetition and counterpointing of the two tunes of the first movement, the masculine first subject smearing the outline of the feminine second.  These  processes are the structure of this music.  Appoggiatura in lower strings and horn-tone seem either to soothe or to increase pain.  The music dies away overshadowed by a rocking alternation of tones on clarinet.  Dies Irae tells us that the day of judgement is near.

 Track Three:  lll Larghetto


(Link 4a)  The last movement is lashed by brass and percussion into beginning proudly, with dotted-note fanfares.  The first subject of the symphony returns, triumphant and sinister.  It is continued by a zigeuner-like insistence on rhythm in the cellos and double-basses in particular - the horn adds foreboding.  This music was written years before Stravinsky’s percussive, motoric but rhythmically disruptive style became fashionable.  The feminine second subject sweeps one on, now, with Tchaikovskian swelling horns in canon, and castanets imitated by tambourine.  Hectoring brass breaks in with the motto fanfares; a diminuendo brings in the oboe in Anna’s theme.  It is taken up with an accompaniment of nervous quivering in the strings - time is running out.  The deep strings add a swell to the yearning - the horn still doesn’t achieve more than pathos - the gipsy-dance moments drop in exhaustion.  A lulling episode is followed by a bass-led revivification of the gaunt fate-music, with its odd rhythms and ruthlessness more marked, the violas characteristically dry and wiry in tone.

The sweep of the movement continues -down, the obsessive motto brushing aside gipsy tambourine, growing ever more frenetic yet apt to its context, and now, we’re at the ferocious climax of the entire Symphony, repeated whiplash phrases of the first subject or motto-theme continuation more and more short, sharp and frantic, reaching the listener’s breaking point, which comes soon enough, with the finality of drums and tam-tam, the motto-theme sombre in slow deep waves that return us to an image of the tide, one bleak stretch of coast; then, like a tidal wave that one has not seen in its rising, but turns to as it topples - or the wave that one has waited for and now throws oneself into - that last terrifying conflict, a downward chromatic scale pitted against, and out of step with, an upward, and broken thematic phrases in addition, the violins divided, sounding their own semitonal clash, screaming their way down on and through those upward, harmonized sequences of chromatic brass and other interjections until the alto and deeper instruments harmonizes in the downward scale, the violins still out of step - bearing down on everything.  The scale ends in a two-fold downward sequence derived from a four-note element of the second - feminine - subject, semitone-minor-third-semitone; in fact, the whole climax is an immense development of the feminine subject against first subject upward scale and Dies Irae. Curiously there is an echo of Wagner’s Flying Dutchman in there. 

We are left with reiteration of the opening of the motto-theme - altered subtlely from its other appearances - and at first with a response-phrase reminiscent of Dies Irae.  The procession is accompanied by regularly spaced drum-beats and crashes from the tam-tam, until, after five repetitions in the major, the movement is brought to a dead stop, by two identical, thudded chords.  Anna Karenina dies by suicide - throwing herself under the wheels of a railway-engine.  Here, antedating musique mechanique by about thirty years, Rachmaninoff’s First Symphony ends by appearing to evoke just such a death - one is left with the blind, remorseless force  of steam driving tons of steel.  

 Track Four:  lV Allegro Con Fuoco

 (Link 4b)  Glazunov’s fluent, ingratiating First Symphony had been premiered when he had been sixteen.  It had been a triumph.  At the premiere of his First Symphony, the twenty-four year-old Rachmaninoff left the hall to pace outside, wringing his hands at the terrible discords he heard.  Had he truly written these sounds? Of course, he most probably had written many of them - calculated them ruthlessly,  as contapuntal clashes and as-logical harmonic progressions.

 (Link 4c)  The critique that headed our programme - was by Cesar Cui, the least talented of the Mogoyucha Kuchka or ‘Mighty Handful’ of great St Petersburg composers - Balakirev, Borodin, Moussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov having been the others.  Regarding themselves as the Pan-Slavist torch-bearers for Russian music, they had been rivals to the ‘westernizing’ Nicolai Rubenstein/Tchaikovsky axis in Moscow.  Years previously, Rimsky--Korsakov had groomed Glazunov for stardom...Rachmaninoff had been groomed by Zverev, Arensky and Taneiev, the first two figures Tchaikovskians, the last an expert in Flemish polyphony whose counterpoint-classes had taught Rachmaninoff a great deal. In Rachmaninoff’s last major work, the Symphonic Dances, there is a moment where the first subject of his First Symphony rises almost as if from the grave, shining and beautiful: and the late work - from nearly fifty years on - builds on the quotation of an Easter chant in its later stages. 

Cue from Symphonic Dances, l Non Allegro, Rachmaninoff

Resurrection came, beyond the imagining of the critics of that first performance - or the conscious hopes of Rachmaninoff, himself, who had the misfortune to be a young man caught between old factions fighting for influence over the future of Russian music, the death of Tchaikovsky having left everything to play for! Pace Mister Cui, it is possible not to be an inhabitant of Hell and yet see the critic as a brilliantly perceptive bigot:  his descriptions of the symphony apt so long as one discounts his aesthetic, which leads him to enumerate strengths as weaknesses!  You’ve been listening to Classical Break on Somer Valley FM, and I’m Rupert Kirkham.  Today’s programme was written by Mike Burrows.  We hope you enjoyed it and will join us again soon.  Goodbye!

Friday, 26 April 2013

27 & 28 April

This week's programme features music from Benjamin Britten in this, his 100th anniversary year.

The main piece is his one and only piano concerto, but there's also music for the theatre and opera house.

Script to follow when I've typed it up!

Rupert

Friday, 12 April 2013

13 & 14 April

This is a repeat from last February:  a programme of reveries that is intended as a tribute to those who foster imagination as a path to human understanding, and to those who value their dreams of what might be as they do what is and may be:  those who value the dreams of others as they do their own, and so value (and not only dream but work for) their happiness.

CB Where The Rainbow Ends

Intro, Track One: Quilter - Where The Rainbow Ends Suite: 1. Rainbow Land


This is Classical Break, and I’m Rupert Kirkham. Today’s programme was researched and written by Mike Burrows. You’ve just heard Rainbow Land, the first movement of a suite Where The Rainbow Ends, written for a play of this name by Roger Quilter. It introduces a programme of largely British music of dreams and otherworld fantasy, some of it what Edward German would have called ‘light good music’. Where The Rainbow Ends was a Christmas fairy-tale, produced at the Savoy Theatre - famous for the D’Oyly Carte Company and the operas of Gilbert and Sullivan, first performed in 1911. For many in those days, the fairy world was no faraway Shangri La, as was to be shown when, a decade later and after the Great War, Conan Doyle revealed The Coming of The Fairies to an astonished public. Where The Rainbow Ends tells of children who travel on a magic carpet to save their ship-wrecked parents from a dragon, and are protected in their adventures by Saint George...


“This is the universe. Big, isn’t it?” The Archers film, A Matter of Life and Death, drawn from a Robert Nathan novel by Emeric Pressburger and directed by Michael Powell. It tells the story of a Lancaster pilot who jumps from his burning aircraft without a parachute; survives to fall in love with a WAAC from Boston, Mass, and is visited by a heavenly messenger who wants to conduct him up a celestial stairway to the training-centre for another world. Terrestrial scenes were shot in colour, scenes in Heaven in black and white. The fantasy may be the result of a thought-unimportant head-injury, or it may be real. In any event, the film culminates in emergency brain surgery and an Appeal heard in the Highest of Courts. Intended to promote Anglo-American relations, and invoking every species of idealism of outlook, it owes some of its glamour to the score composed by the Polish émigré, Allan Gray. Here are elements of the score - a fanfare, piano-music connected with sensory disturbance and the escalator, and romantically swooping but distinguished love-theme of its time (used for end-credits).


Track Two: Allan Gray: A Matter of Life and Death

The first film of one of the stars of A Matter of Life and Death, Roger Livesey, was a silent adaptation of Where The Rainbow Ends. released in 1921 - the year Conan Doyle’s The Coming of The Fairies was published...

Now, a song from a cycle of Yeats-settings, To A Child Dancing In The Wind, by John Tavener (B 1944). A soprano is accompanied by flute, viola and harp. In its tessitura of wide intervals, the vocal part calls for sublime breath control - and the lightest of touches from the instrumentalists. The vision of the unself-consciously graceful and sensuous young girl in a world of her own exists in a harsh world on a Western shore, where work and widowhood await, but the melisma is of the self-hypnotized unmarried girl... A world within the world...


Track Three: John Tavener - To A Child Dancing In The Wind              


There are as many worlds within the world as there are people and products of the artistic imagination. One may need only a fire to sit by to find one’s dreams. The Canadian, Robert Farnon was for many years a composer and conductor of light music. He specialized in mood-music and miniatures as did many romantics and late-romantics. His best is good indeed, vivid, natural and skilfully written - the orchestration fits the melody and harmony like a soft glove, a blending of the sections that favours the woodwind, horns and strings, often including harp - his pieces bloom from simple, but affecting elements developed with great care and distinction. Here is Pictures In The Fire, a kind of canzona for violin and orchestra with notable asides from flute, oboe, clarinet and bassoon - and fleeting piccolo.

Track Four: Farnon - Pictures In The Fire.


Edward Elgar, self-taught, composed from the age of about ten. His father gave him the run of his music-shop and his mother did all that she could to foster the child’s interest in literature with the result that the young Edward and siblings wrote a play, The Wand of Youth for which he composed the music. Grown-ups were lured across a stream into the world of childhood imagination, with the result that they developed an understanding of children and so scolded them less severely in future. The miracle was achieved by moths and butterflies, little bells, fairy pipers, fairies and giants, tame and wild bears, a sundance and other such cues. Household music was transformed forty years later in 1907 when, his mother and father now dead, Elgar took up the score and developed and arranged its numbers for full orchestra with unself-conscious, magical results.


The beautiful variety in style, mood and scoring of the finished pieces is proof that the excitement of having the run of a music shop had never left him, and that his mother’s literary dreams and the ambition to express philosophical constructs in poetic imagery and music had been passed on. The titles and ‘little tunes’ are inseparable. Here, the grown-up couple are lulled to sleep by Fairy Pipers.

Track Five: Edward Elgar - Fairy Pipers

The pianist, philosopher and mystic, Cyril Scott, was a composer of great ambition and talent for symphonic music, admired by Vauaghan Williams and Bax, and Elgar, who credited him with inspiring the more daring harmonies of his late period! Scott worked as well in small forms, often orchestrating his own piano-music. Here is his orchestral miniature, Lotus-Land: the heavy, sweet blossom of the lotus was reputed by the Greeks to induce dreaming lethargy, a narcosis forgetful of home or a life of action, as Odysseus found to his cost during his travels.



Track Six: Cyril Scott - Lotus-land

The composer Cyril Rootham wrote at least one fine choral-orchestral song in The Stolen Child... Setting Yeats, it is an enticement to the life of faery, of an escape from the human world:


                      Come away, O human child,
                            To the waters and the wild,
                            With a fairy, hand in hand,
                           For the world’s more full
                                 of weeping  than you
                                            can understand...


The song is beautiful, the scoring and variations in accompaniment well-suited to the imagery, but this refrain, with its flute flourish on the second and clever scansion of the long, subtlely rhythmical last line, more than anything else, stays with one. It is, after all, such a hard journey to that otherworld, one made (or expressed) by any serious artist. Childhood is the origin of so many of our fantasies of beauty and truth, even enlightenment...

Track Seven: Rootham: The Stolen Child


Not all dreams are welcome: not all fantasies are an escape from the anguish of living. Here is a short partsong by Elgar, dating from a couple of years after the Wand of Youth Suites, and written whilst on holiday in Rome. It is an evocation of dread, of the thing that dies in the night, and of Owls. Here, the composer - according to his own story - sets verses written by his daughter Carice’s pet white rabbit, Pietro D’Alba, in reality, self-penned. The deliberately uncertain tonality is wedded to a hushed funereal processional, intensely ghostly, the owls’ antiphonal voices caught to peculiarly unsettling effect....


Track Eight: Elgar – Owls, An Epitaph

One of the Australian composer Percy Grainger’s least-known professional interests was the search for a machine to play ‘free music’ - music that truly sounded to the pitches and pulses of the elements. The idea first came to him as a youngster as he watched sunshine on waves and currents. Here is a short piece of Free Music, arranged for string quartet. Another world within this world and the literally hypnotic, fantastical world of music...
Track Nine: Percy Grainger - Free Music

Lastly, a long piece for piano-soloist and orchestra by John Ireland. The Legend, opening with a modal horn signal, evokes the Sussex downs: it concerns the atmosphere of a particular spot, a district of stone--age civilization, near where there was a post-Crusades leper-colony - the lepers worshipped through a small slit in the wall of a local church. Out for a solitary walk in this hilly, windblown landscape, Ireland stopped for a picnic. He told later of how as he ate he became aware of a group of children dancing and playing in a circle close to him as though oblivious of him. He was annoyed, but then it was borne in on him suddenly that they played quietly and that their clothes were ‘archaic’. He looked away, looked back and found that they were gone, leaving him alone on the hillside... A friend, the psychical researcher, mystic and ghost--story--writer, Arthur Machen, heard of this experience and wrote a postcard to him, saying simply: “So you’ve seen them, too!” Legend is fittingly large-scale, an awkward gear-change from the opening horn--theme to quicker music got over better in some performances than in others. By the middle of the piece, it is as if the mind clears of gong-clash, bluster and dramatic outlines, pianistic gestures, woodwind fragments, an obsessively menacing liturgical element threatened by chromaticism, a feeling of rising damp and decay. There comes another, clearer, fresher vision, as hallucinatory, in which the orchestral sounds stream hypnotically in light-footed movement - a thinner orchestration of sunshine and swift cloud-shade - and children of another, ancient time dance and play, and the piano-part moves between freedom and thematic matter of earlier... The piano is induced to accompany the dream. It’s not so much that these children are innocent or aesthetically charming, though they are, it’s that life and time have not overcome their natural zest for life, the faith and hope they find in living.


Adults have fantasies of what they are and what life truly is, but perhaps wouldn’t be happy here even if they could be! Because there are always new generations of children, happiness and hope spring eternal. The episode reminds one that the word maze has many meanings, including dance and trance; that mazes can be an adjunct to religious ritual, often of initiation, preparation and purification, and, like the best in musical expression can represent acceptance, enlightenment and progress.

The horn-signal recurs affirmatively, harmonized in the major. A long dying fall reprises nightmare elements amid calm, the piano introducing the chromatic sounds, dwindling away to nothing - perhaps into the depths or distance.


This was Classical Break on Somer Valley FM, and I’m Rupert Kirkham. Today’s programme was researched and written by Mike Burrows. We hope you enjoyed it and will join us again soon. Goodbye!


Track Ten: Ireland - Legend For Piano and Orchestra




© Mike Burrows 2/12

Friday, 29 March 2013

30 & 31 March: Easter

(Easter, a revised broadcast from 2012)

Is it wrong, Lord, to ask you to spare all
Such a night as this, in Gethsemane,
Or let them never taste the cup of gall?
Lost in despair, they pass from company
And earn judgement of even their last hours
By those whom they leave, or worse in our eyes,
Perish alone and unremarked, though flowers
Or brief-blooming innocence fall or rise.
In our hearts we know more than we admit
Of how we have travelled to where we are;
And yet, still less than yours can our spirit
Bear what comes of all thought familiar.
Our journey leads to a shrine raised to chance
Outgloried by true cures in acceptance.

(Copyright Mike Burrows 3/4/2012)

This is Classical Break on Somer Valley FM, and I’m Mike Burrows.  Today’s programme is a celebration of Easter.  We had hoped to bring you a new anthology, but sadly, Rupert Kirkham, who usually presents Classical Break, is unable to be here in the studio.  Our thoughts and best wishes are with him. Spring Pilgrimage culminates in the observance of Easter:  something of the feelings on setting out is evoked in Allan Gray’s music for the Powell and Pressburger film, A Canterbury Tale, the story of a latterday pilgrimage to Canterbury made at the height of the Second World War by two soldiers, one British, one from Oregon, and a land-girl, all seeking some rite of spiritual healing.  Here, one has the Canterbury peal, the traditional pilgrim’s hymn, Angelus ad Virginem, and a reading from the Prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, read by Esmonde Knight. 


A Canterbury Tale, Prelude, Gray
 

As for me, it is one thing to write for Classical Break, but quite another to voice it; so here is an edited version of last year’s Easter programme, spoken by Rupert.  

 

Track One:  Kod Bethlehema, Trad


This is Classical Break on Somer Valley FM, and I’m Rupert Kirkham.  Today’s programme is a celebration of Easter.  You have just heard Kod Bethlehema, a song of pilgrims to Bethlehem, a Christmas song, but not the less apt for that.  Easter is a time of rebirth after a time of fasting and other observances of atonement, including pilgrimage.  Spring is here:  the very derivation of the word Easter has to do with Spring, rather than Christ - Eostre or Eastre was the Saxon or German goddess of fertility.  At Easter, we give chocolate eggs and hares and perhaps rich, spicy fruit-cakes when we do because the Christian Church seized unto itself symbols of procreation and an important religious festival,thus superimposing the sufferings and death of Christ, and His rising again from the dead on the tremendous mood-swing of renewal represented by this season of the year.  Those who fasted and sought forgiveness for their sins through Lenten self-punishment and the turning away of the mind from distractions of the flesh, found Easter Day at last.    


Easter is a time of rebirth after fasting and other observances of atonement, including pilgrimage.  Spring is here:  the very derivation of the word Easter has to do with Spring, rather than Christ - Eostre or Eastre was the Saxon or German goddess of fertility.  At Easter, we give chocolate eggs and hares and perhaps rich, spicy fruit-cakes when we do because the Christian Church seized unto itself symbols of procreation and an important religious festival, thus superimposing the sufferings and death of Christ, and His rising again from the dead on the tremendous mood-swing of renewal represented by this season of the year.  Those who fasted and sought forgiveness for their sins through Lenten self-punishment and the turning away of the mind from distractions of the flesh, found Easter Day at last.  
  

In the years of Jesus’ ministry in Palestine, Jerusalem was the gig for any travelling preacher.  Christ prepared himself for it just as any pilgrim was to do.  Then, what happened was going to happen.  His arrival in the City on a donkey was greeted by a greater or lesser showing of popular support, but by the time of his arrest, he must have seemed a danger to smooth governance by King, Priests, merchants, the financial services-sector, if not the occupying power.


Ride On Ride On In Majesty is a favoured Victorian hymn for Palm Sunday, with words by HH Milman and a tune, Winchester New, adapted from a chorale from a Lutheran Handbuch of 1690.


Track Two:  Ride On Ride On In Majesty



This is Classical Break, and I’m Rupert Kirkham.  Today’s programme is one of music that evokes Easter. It is not always the case that a nationalist-supported figure who stirs up trouble in an unhappy province is unpopular with Empire, if he divides satisfactorily the religious, cultural and political forces that pose a threat to the continued, lucrative occupation of his country.  By the time of his condemnation, the crowd, given a choice of pardoning Christ or a known bandit and murderer preferred to see released the bandit and murderer.  This must have been a defining moment in itself.  Perhaps Barabbas was simply someone who - in the eyes of ordinary people - would make life the more interesting for the Romans and ruling classes of Judah.  Wielding argument - and once, a whip - Christ had offended the rich, powerful and corrupt of his own land, but not defeated neither them - nor the Romans.


Let’s remind ourselves of the nature of God, The Son.  If Psalm 23, The Lord Is My Shepherd - often associated with Christ and Easter - has been set by many composers.  John Blow (1649-1708), was one of the first intake of choir boys at the Chapel Royal after the Restoration.  So began a largely successful career that culminated in the position of organist at Westminster Abbey, at St Pauls and again at Westminster Abbey after the death of the younger man who had replaced him there, Purcell.  After a brief introductory passage, a theme in triple time that Blow re-employed in chamber music is played through repeatedly on the accompanying instruments, two violins, viola, bass violin, theorbo (a kind of lute) and organ.  Alto, Tenor, Bass and Bass voices sing the first verse, Soprano, alto, tenor, Bass and the second, the full choir entering for the latter stages:  the piece has the feel of a passacaglia or chacony, the ‘spirit’ of the chief melodic idea always present, variations taking place in voice and instrumentation, involving the opening idea in addition.  It is a lovely piece, courtly in sound, but full of clever touches in layout, to ensure that even the organ, functioning as a supernumery bass, is noticed for its own sake as much for its sustaining tone.  Apparently, Charles The Second approved of the minuet-rhythm in this and other anthems of the time:  not only for its lively associations, but because he could beat time to it.  To my ears, it harks back to the days of La Folia, a one-time favourite for instrumental treatments in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries.  The spare counterpoint is undoubtedly due to a fashion for block chord harmonizing in contrast to the older polyphonic tendency in church music - perhaps Charles the Second preferred this simpler approach, too.       


Track Three:  23rd Psalm, John Blow



Easter is a time when man craves forgiveness and seeks to express gratitude for Christ’s sacrifice.  To be brought face to face with the sufferings and death of the Shepherd and appointer of Fishers of Men is a personal thing; to be worthy is an impossibility; to be a doubter is to suffer in turn, and all men have done enough evil in their lives to be a doubter of both self and God’s capacity for forgiveness.


A piece that seems to go to the heart of spiritual boldness and helpless suffering is The Dream of Gerontius, which sets passages from a poem by Cardinal Newman. It tells of a soul’s passage from deathbed to purgatory.  The word Gerontius is from Latinized Ancient Greek and means literally, Old Man.  No end of a sinner brought to book, was Elgar’s own view.  As in no previous British Oratorio, the orchestra sings, prays, agonises, praises along with the choir and a sub-chorus - another innovation.  The style is operatic, the melodic lines, harmonies and tonal relations would in 1900 have seemed those of a Wagner or Verdi.  Arias, conversations in recitative, leading motives standing for Sickness, Death, Judgement and various aspects of doubt, love, fear and forgiveness, grip the listener and compel him to suspend his disbelief.   The sheer force of a vision, of every thought, musical or poetic, strikes home in a manner that grips one from beginning to end, on a journey into eternity.


Let’s hear the prayer of the dying man, a mixed firm credo and appeal for strength to face death and judgement that are certain.  Sanctus Fortis: “Strong Spirit, Spirit of God, from the depths I pray to You, pity me, my Judge, spare me, Lord!”


Track Four:  Sanctus Fortis from The Dream of Gerontius, Elgar 



Elgar’s next Oratorio, The Apostles, is one of two that he completed on the theme of Christ’s ministry and the Acts of The Apostles.  The second was called The Kingdom.  He intended a third, The Judgement, but first, the strain of completing the first two and later, the First World War and death of his wife supervened.  A few fragments survive of the third oratorio, some worked into the 3rd Symphony, lately completed by Anthony Payne.  The first two are thus, a torso, but in themselves are glories of literary syncretism bringing together texts from both the new testament and apochrypha, Wagnerian leading-motives, diatonic and chromatic harmony that melds Franck and Strauss and a peculiar English quality perhaps owed to the much put-upon cathedral composer SS Wesley.  There are crowd-scenes, arias, recitatives.  Solo voices, large choirs and huge, Late Romantic orchestra - including a Hebrew shofar or ramshorn provide colours unique to Elgar and perhaps a little owing to a holiday-cruise in the Aegean.  The Apostles and the Kingdom rank with his symphonies and concerti in imagination, resource and inspiration.  Were they the work of a German other continental composer, It’s hard not to believe that they would be known to many abroad.  As a tour de force, they are irresistible, but they contain some of the most beautiful, awe-inspiring and touching music penned by even Elgar.


In the  Scene of the Oratorio, Christ has been arrested and tried and the zealot who betrayed him, Judas Iscariot, has returned his payment for Christ’s betrayal, and been ejected from the Temple.  Let’s hear his powerful bass-register soliloquy ending in suicide.  Judas is a basso profundo part unusual in British oratorio.  This is dark music, lost deep in night.  It was a passage that terrified Elgar as he was writing it, and with good cause.  His faith was uncertain and he had had to play down his Catholicism to gain national acceptance; there’s evidence that he identified greatly with Judas, and subscribed to the theological view, daring at the time, that Judas had betrayed Christ in order to compel his Master to make a show of His Divine Power.  Certainly, Lady Alice had to ban the subject of suicide from the Elgar dining-table at this time; visitors were tactfully warned, conversation as tactfully steered away from it...


Track Five:  The Apostles, Without the Temple,  Elgar



We should not forget the proliferation of another Easter symbol - of the cross, woven from thatch-reeds or osier-twigs.  The cross of four arms is almost latterday to two thousand years ago, when the Romans didn’t waste wood, but simply crossed the Tee.  Then again, the cross is ‘The Tree’,and trees have always been objects of worship - many springing to green life and blossom at Eastertime, as crops were sown, troths plighted and babies made.


Now the movement, Golgotha, Scene 5 from Elgar’s The Apostles.  One draws near the cross to muted strings:  the image of the crucified Lord strikes the onlooker - Christ cries out in the heavy and sombre brass, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthami’, ‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?  The chorus sings, Truly, He was the Son of God; Mary and St John - contralto and tenor, sing brokenly of their pain and despair at Christ’s suffering at the hands of His people.  As in the Judas soliloquy, there is a Moussorgskian pungency to this music, in this case admitting some warmth in the love of Jesus’ Mother and favourite disciple, traditionally placed beside the cross in many examples of church-statuary - in Wells Cathedral for one prominent example - and paintings.    


Track Six:  Golgotha, from The Apostles, Elgar



The Ave Verum Corpus is a hymn dating back to Pope Innocent Vl, and has been set by thousands of composers, many of them unknown.  It apostrophizes the body of Christ after the ordeal of the cross, and begs that the sight of it can console us in our last hour.  We hear it in a setting for male voice choir by Gerald Hendrie (1936- ), for 21 years Professor of Music at the Open University.  This was written for the Gentlemen of Ely Cathedral and employs bare fifths and fourths harmony and appoggiatura in an unaccompanied chant; its slow-moving or stilly uncanniness heightened by the tritone - diminished fifth or augmented fourth, a divisive interval known to the Mediaeval church as Diabolus in Musica, the Devil in Music, and later much-employed in all forms of Western music as a harmonic or tonal intensifier; its use here is perhaps the more disturbing for being quiet.  Instead of expressing terror and pity in high-coloured tragedy, this piece might perhaps be compared with Shakespeare’s use in his later tragedies of a blank verse freed by monosyllables and enjambment at moments of great intensity: apparent simplicity conceals art and enshrines humankind’s truest, loneliest responses to life and death.    


Track Seven:  Ave Verum Corpus, Gerald Hendrie


We come to the end of our programme with...what?  The Ascension is a month away.  Christ rose again after three days to share life again with those who followed Him.  SS Wesley’s grandfather Charles, brother of John, wrote some of the greatest hymns bequeathed us, often adapted from the works of first rate composers; Rejoice, The Lord Is King was sung every Easter at School assemblies as in church and never failed to move, thanks to its fine words, strong melody, striking fourth line to every quatrain, and earnest refrain.  The tune, known now as Gopsal, was adapted from Handel.  It was first published in Hymns for Our Lord’s Resurection in 1746.  This is a hymn of joy and renewal and so ends this programme.  Here it is performed in an arrangement complete with baroque descant and trumpet obbligato, by Paul Leddington Wright.


This was Classical Break on Somer Valley FM.  We hope you enjoyed our programme and will join us for further journeys in music.  A happy Easter to you from all of us here!


Track Eight:  Rejoice, The Lord Is King, Handel/Charles Wesley



©  Mike Burrows 3/4/12