Classic Ross Amico

Sibelius at 155 A Finnish Hero’s Legacy

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Ross Amico

December 8, 2020

in Daily Dispatch

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EIGHT DAYS OF SIBELIUS – DAY 8

Well, today is the day. The 155th anniversary of the birth of Jean Sibelius.

The Sibelius legacy is an interesting one. In Finland, he is regarded as a national hero – so much more than a composer – since essentially, he provided the soundtrack for Finnish independence. His image has adorned statues, stamps, and currency. Finnish Flag Day is even celebrated on his birthday (December 8).

Outside of Finland, Sibelius’ reputation has been a little spottier, his path to the pantheon a bit more circuitous. Broadly speaking, he has fared better in England and the Commonwealth, the United States and, naturally, Scandinavia. In Germany and France, much less so. In the modernist era, his music became regarded in some circles as a hopeless throwback. Here was a tonal composer who, in his naiveté, still wrote tunes! René Leibowitz went so far as to call him “the worst composer in the world.”

There are still some who remain deaf to Sibelius’ charms, and blind to his significance. But in his way, he was every bit as innovative – and every bit as subversive – as Stravinsky or Schoenberg. Like Franz Liszt before him, the great Finn blazed his own trail, rejecting forms that had been developed over generations, particularly those of German origin, to reinvent the symphony, in a manner that would become recognized as wholly characteristic of the North.

Few composers’ music has been so tied-up with the spirit of their homeland. Sibelius came of age at a time when artists of the “provincial” countries of Europe began to chafe against imperial domination, and to assert their own national identities. Sibelius loved Finland. He loved its history. He certainly loved its natural beauty.

All this is reflected in his most famous piece, the tone poem “Finlandia,” his most flagrant expression of Finnish patriotism, performed under many names in its early days, in order to circumvent the Russian censors. The work was first heard in Helsinki on July 2, 1900. The conductor on that occasion was Sibelius’ good friend Robert Kajanus.

YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO WATCH THIS EXCEPTIONAL VIDEO! “Finlandia” is given a stirring presentation, complemented by Northern Lights, imposing forests, and stunning wildlife footage. I guarantee it will be nine minutes of your day well-spent. An inspiring visual interpretation that breathes new life into an overplayed favorite.

The serene melody at the heart of “Finlandia” is often heard separately as the “Finlandia Hymn.” Though not the Finnish national anthem, it is basically the Finnish national song. Listen to this lovely performance, recorded in November, by the Sibelius High School Chamber Choir. In this case, social distancing need not mean isolation.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEAN SIBELIUS!

PHOTO: “Passio Musicae” (1967) by Eila Hiltunen, the Sibelius Monument in Helsinki
Remembering Pearl Harbor & Seeking Unity

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Ross Amico

December 7, 2020

in Daily Dispatch

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Perhaps if we reflected more on all we’ve been through as a country, and the trials of our forebears, we would be more inclined to honor their sacrifices with less division, more public mindedness, and a little kindness.

It was on this date in 1941 that the Imperial Japanese Navy launched a surprise military strike against the United States naval base at Pearl Harbor, awakening Yamamoto’s “sleeping giant” and precipitating the U.S.’s entry into World War II. Ultimately, that probably turned out to be a good thing, but tell that to the 2,403 Americans killed and the 1,178 wounded. Sailors, soldiers, airmen, marines, and civilians were caught in the attack.

In 1991, American composer John Duffy was commissioned by the U.S. government to mark the 50th anniversary of the strike. The result was “A Time for Remembrance: A Peace Cantata.” Duffy dedicated the work to the memory of the victims of Pearl Harbor. Among them were the composer’s sister, brother, and cousin. The texts are taken from a poem by Rupert Brooke, a speech by Franklin Delano Roosevelt, an African American spiritual, and actual letters written by sailors aboard the USS Arizona.

James Earl Jones is the narrator on the only recording of the piece, with the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra conducted by Zdenek Macal, which I am very sorry to see has not been posted online, though you’ll find a few audio clips when you click on the link. The relevant files are titled “The Dead,” “Letters Home,” “I Want to Die Easy,” “An End to War,” and “Blow out you bugles, over the rich Dead.”

http://www.johnduffy.com/freedomworks.html

Grant us peace – internationally and at home.
Sibelius’s Andante Festivo a world greeting

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Ross Amico

December 7, 2020

in Daily Dispatch

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EIGHT DAYS OF SIBELIUS – DAY 7

Sibelius hadn’t been in front of an orchestra for over a decade, when the music critic Olin Downes – Sibelius’ great champion at the New York Times – sent out a request for the composer to conduct one of his own works, as a kind of “greeting to the world,” in honor of the New York World Exhibition in 1939. Remarkably, Sibelius obliged, essentially coming out of retirement at the age of 73 to lead the performance on New Year’s Day.

The work, “Andante Festivo,” originally conceived for string quartet, was commissioned to mark the 25th anniversary of a sawmill, of all things, in 1922. Sibelius transcended the, um, run-of-the-mill occasion by crafting a genuinely inspired, soulful composition that is none the worse for its touching simplicity. For the World’s Fair radio transmission, allowing for the technological limitations of the day, he rescored the piece for string orchestra and timpani. In retrospect, the full-throated, free-flowing hymn could be seen almost as a religious statement, with the world teetering on the brink of war.

This is the only recording that exists of Sibelius conducting. The tempo he chooses is slower and more solemn than usual, but hardly surprising, considering the circumstances. For years, another recording, set down on the same day, at an even slower tempo, was thought to be the one conducted by the composer, but the confusion has since been sorted out.

The work would later be played at Sibelius’ funeral. It’s so like Sibelius to find wistfulness in “festivity.”

Here’s a modern recording, at a more customary tempo, with Neeme Järvi conducting the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra:
Sibelius’ Silence Lost Symphony & Cigars

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Ross Amico

December 6, 2020

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EIGHT DAYS OF SIBELIUS – DAY 6

I’ve got two Sibelius autographs in my possession. One is a signed copy of the famous Yousuf Karsh portrait from 1949 that I am currently using as my profile pic. I have been unable to locate it since my last move, but I assure you it’s around here somewhere!

The other, as you can see, when you click on the image to enlarge, is a note of thanks for a gift of cigars on the occasion of the composer’s 84th birthday. The accompanying photo (note the cigar in his hand) was copied for me by Anssi Blomstedt, the composer’s grandson. I had the two matted and framed together.

Evidently, Sibelius never lost his fondness for cigars – and vodka – though he abstained for a time, beginning in 1908, a harrowing period for the composer, during which he underwent a series of operations to have a cancerous tumor removed from his throat. Understandably, this brush with mortality dominated his thoughts until the clouds began to lift in 1913. Then, just as his prospects seemed to be improving, war enveloped Europe. It was during his health crisis that Sibelius composed his Symphony No. 4, a work he himself described as “a psychological symphony.” It is certainly the strangest of his oeuvre, unsettling, bleak, even desolate, but also quite beautiful.

Sibelius suffered periods of depression and self-doubt throughout his life, and they only worsened the more famous and acclaimed he became. Following his Symphony No. 7 of 1922-24, the purest distillation of his revolutionary approach to symphonic form (the entire work, a breathtaking, organic expanse of 20-25 minutes in length), and his sublime tone poem “Tapiola” of 1926 (Tapio being the forest god of the “Kalevala”), he acknowledged no further major works. Both pieces were met with some of the greatest acclaim of his career, but combined they help to induce such overwhelming pressure that he was essentially hobbled.

The Symphony No. 7:

“Tapiola”:

Sibelius had just turned 61 at the time “Tapiola” was premiered. Though for a time he would labor heroically at an Eighth Symphony, the effort made him miserable. Several leading conductors, including Serge Koussevitzky and Eugene Ormandy, were jockeying for the work’s first performance, and the composer experienced increased anxiety to meet expectations and push beyond what he had already expressed. A kind of paralysis ensued, though a number of people, pupils, colleagues, and family, insist that the symphony had been completed.

It is thought that Sibelius destroyed the work – actually I have it on good authority from Anssi, who says that he was present at its burning – but at least some of the sketches have survived. It was only in 2011 that a few fragments came to light. They are maddeningly gnomic and make the Sibelius lover yearn for more. What would it be like to hear a new Sibelius symphony?

But if the composer didn’t think it was up to his standards, perhaps it is best that it is lost. Here are two-and-a-half minutes that have survived:

Sibelius’ retirement was a long one. He would finish nothing of consequence for his last 30 years. This period has been enshrined in legend as the “Silence of Järvenpää.” During this time, though the composer was not overly fond of company, he continued to receive some notable guests at his home, Ainola, located 23 miles north of Helsinki. A number of these were still hoping to wrest from him the elusive Eighth Symphony.

Once, Ormandy showed up with the entire Philadelphia Orchestra. Though in frail health and cripplingly shy, the composer was convinced by Ormandy to walk out onto the porch and acknowledge the musicians. It was a raw day, and everyone had been waiting in the rain, but when the door opened finally, and the composer emerged, he was met with a resounding cheer.

Sibelius died two years later, in 1957, at the age of 91.
Saint Nicholas: From Saint to Santa in Music

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Ross Amico

December 6, 2020

in Daily Dispatch

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Over the centuries, the character of Saint Nicholas has undergone a remarkable transformation from austere-but-generous religious figure, to gift-giving, jolly old elf. This Sunday night on “The Lost Chord,” we’ll have music reflective of both.

The historical and legendary Nicholas, fourth century Bishop of Myra, is the patron saint of sailors, merchants, travelers, brewers, prisoners, prostitutes, Russia, and of course children. THAT Nicholas is celebrated for his secret acts of charity, even if he could be rather short-tempered and a bit severe. Nicholas is said to have punched a few heretics, on occasion.

One famous episode tells of Nicholas saving three daughters of a poor man from a life of prostitution by tossing bags of gold down their chimney, thereby providing them with proper dowries. The episode is reflected in the familiar pawnbrokers’ symbol of three gold spheres suspended from a bar (and also the practice of hanging stockings by the chimney with care).

Composer Joseph-Guy Ropartz, a native of Brittany, and a pupil of Jules Massenet and César Franck, focuses on another famous, albeit grisly Nicholas legend. “Le Miracle de Saint Nicolas,” composed in 1905 on a text by René Avril, relates the slaughter of three boys by an unscrupulous butcher, who chops them up and pickles them in brine, with the goal of passing them off as ham. Nicholas restores the youths, and the butcher repents. The same story would be set some 40 years later by Benjamin Britten, as part of his cantata, “Saint Nicholas.”

Clement Moore’s poem, “A Visit from Saint Nicholas,” exemplified, and in many ways codified, the modern perception of St. Nicholas as Santa Claus. The work inspired, among other things, a symphony by William Henry Fry.

Fry was born in Philadelphia in 1813. A pioneering figure in American music, he was the first native-born composer to write on a large scale. He composed orchestral works and the first opera by an American to be performed publicly in his lifetime (“Leonora,” in 1845). He was an outspoken advocate of American music – that is, music composed by Americans – at a time when German imports ruled the roost. It would be decades before American music would gain a toehold in the concert halls, which makes Fry an even more remarkable figure.

Fry studied music with a former bandleader in Napoleon Bonaparte’s army, who went on to become the head of Philadelphia’s Musical Fund Society. Fry himself would become the society’s secretary.

He was also a journalist, a writer on music, and the first music critic to write for a major American newspaper. He was a foreign correspondent for the Philadelphia Public Ledger and acted as music critic for the New York Herald Tribune.

Fry composed seven symphonies, all of them of a descriptive nature. His “Santa Claus Symphony,” of 1853, is more of a precursor to the Straussian tone poem, a detailed blow-by-blow of incidents conveyed in Moore’s verse.

I hope you’ll join me, on this St. Nicholas Day, for two faces of St. Nick. That’s “Dr. Nicholas and Mr. Claus,” this Sunday night at 10:00 EST, on WWFM – The Classical Network and wwfm.org.

PHOTOS: After resurrecting dismembered children from the dead, Saint Nicholas kicks back with a Coke and a smile