Zoltán Kodály played a leading role with Béla Bartók in establishing Hungarian music in the 20th century and shared Bartók’s commitment to Hungarian folk music. In their article in The Grove Music Dictionary Lászlo Eősze and Mícheál Houlahan say of Kodály: “With Bartók, he was one of the creators of a new Hungarian art music based on folk sources, and he laid the foundation for the development of a broadbased and musically literate culture” (Grove Music Online S.v. “Kodály, Zoltán). The liner notes of the recording say of Kodály: “He rose to national and international fame in three interrelated ways: as a composer, as a musicologist specializing in folk music, and as an educationalist, with a particular interest in the promotion of choral singing.” These three areas are reflected Kodály’s first compositional successes, Psalmus Hungaricus, first performed in 1923.
This was a setting of the translation of Psalm Iv [sic] by the 16th-century preacher-poet Mihály Kecskeméti Vég, composed as a large-scale oratorio for tenor, chorus and orchestra within the space of two months. The premiere was conducted by Dohnányi on 19 November 1923 to mark the 50th anniversary of the union of Pest, Buda and Óbuda into Budapest, and the first performance outside Hungary took under Andreae in Zürich on 18 June 1926. It marked a turning-point in the international recognition of Kodály’s art. (Grove Music Online S.v. “Kodály, Zoltán”).
Psalmus Hungaricus lasts about twenty three minutes and is in the structure of a rondo consisting of alternating sections between the chorus and the soloist with brief orchestral interludes (Victoria Meredith, “Zoltán Kodály’s Psalmus Hungaricus: Its New Relevance in the Changing World Order,” pp. 9 & 10). Kodaly’s interest in choral singing is apparent the prominent role he gives to the chorus throughout the piece. The liner notes to the recording point out how the music reflects “the spirit of Hungarian folk music, melodic inflections derived from Gregorian chant, polyphonic choral writing, and a sophisticated harmonic scheme.” The text from Psalm 55 deals with the biblical King David’s betrayal and persecution at the hands of former friends, and covers a wide array of emotions from rage, fear, and sadness to resignation and trust. The combination of a compelling text, large instrumental and choral forces, and diverse compositional techniques give this piece vigor and energy that make it worth listening to.
Kodály uses a variety of methods to bring the emotion and drama of the text alive to the listener, including text painting and creative uses of orchestration. Kodály employs orchestration to set a solemn mood for the piece by beginning the orchestral introduction with a timpani roll, which gradually fades from the fortes of the brass and percussion to prepare an a capella entrance of the choir in unison. The orchestra again rises in strength, and a timpani role and a cadence herald the entry of the tenor soloist. An effective use of text painting in the piece occurs when the tenor sings of the wicked, “They often assemble together, widows and orphans demand to be avenged, they disregard the word of God, for their wealth has made them conceited.” This stanza is introduced by an undulating, nervous bassoon line that is soon joined by swirling string lines. The chorus comes in softly over the orchestra singing the syllable “Ah” repeatedly to a descending figure. As the tenor progresses into the stanza, the chorus gradually rises in pitch and intensity, perhaps depicting the sighing of the orphans and widows which leads into a full-throated rendering of the chorus. Another example of Kodály’s dramatic use of orchestration occurs during the text “But I cry to you, my Lord, morning, noon and eve I beseech you, from you I await deliverance, for I fear the enemy greatly.” The choir and the soloist sing in harmony at a forte dynamic punctuated by statements from the strings. Eventually, the brass join the choir and for a brief moment, all are in unison during the statement “for I fear the enemy greatly.” Kodály skillfully juxtaposes this powerful climax with a quiet interlude for harp and woodwinds that successfully changes the mood before the soloist enters again.
Another feature in Psalmus Hungaricus is beautiful woodwind writing. I was especially struck by the expressive clarinet solos, which utilize the full range of the instrument and serve to introduce or accentuate emotions in the music. Paul Globus explains the role of the clarinet in Hungarian music:
One place with a particular affinity for the clarinet is Hungary. In the ancient land of the Magyars, the clarinet reigns supreme. Some have even suggested that no other instrument comes as close to the Hungarian soul as does the clarinet. (“The Clarinet in Hungary: An Enduring Love Affair,” p. 71).
Perhaps the reason the clarinet (known as the tárgató) enjoys such wide popularity in Hungary is because it is an instrument traditionally favored by peasants, who use it as a solo instrument and have even been known to make their own clarinets (Garland Encyclopedia of World Music S.v. “Hungary”). Also notable are the flute and oboe solos in the work. An apt example of Kodaly’s woodwind writing occurs when the woodwind section accompanies the lines “He will relieve you of every care and will hearken to your entreaty” with long, flowing phrases along with pulsing chords from the harp.
After listening to this piece, I was puzzled as to why it is not included in the Canon. It certainly contains the scope, intensity, power, and emotion equal to the great choral and orchestral works of Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Mahler, or Brahms. The powerful choral climaxes provide dramatic impact, but are tastefully balanced with understated sections that express more subtle emotions. The solo line is neither flamboyant nor shallow, but expresses the text with sincerity and emotion. However, unlike the above composers, Kodály does not enjoy a huge international reputation, and his music is less innovative than that of many of his contemporaries. His association with Hungarian folk music has distanced him from the mainstream of European composers, and makes his music seem more like an exotic novelty. Unlike the compositions of the Second Viennese School, Psalmus Hungaricus does not break much new ground or try or abandon tonality which is perhaps another reason why Kodály has been largely overlooked. Unfortunately, history often designates him as the sidekick of Bartók, doomed to obscurity except when discussing nationalistic music of the early 20th century. A more practical reason why Psalmus Hungaricus is not in the Canon might be the difficulties inherent in performing it. In addition to calling for a large orchestra and full choir with a tenor soloist, Kodály indicated the optional use of a children’s chorus. Many orchestras would not want the expense or inconvenience of performing such a massive work. All of these considerations together form the reason why Psalmus Hungaricus does not hold a place in the Canon. Despite all of these facts, it is my opinion that this work is a masterpiece equal to any other great choral work in the Canon. It deserves to be performed and appreciated as the powerful and emotionally riveting work that is. Let us hope that some adventurous conductors will dust off this piece in the future, and audiences will again get to enjoy Psalmus Hungaricus.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Carl Nielsen, Clarinet Concerto
Carl Nielsen was a Danish composer of the early 20th century and a contemporary of Jean Sibelius. David Fanning points out Nielsen’s importance:
One of the most important and free-spirited of the generation of composers who straddle the 19th and 20th centuries, his music covers a wide range of styles, from Brahmsian Romanticism at the outset to a high-principled, personal brand of neo-classicism in his last years. He composed in virtually all the main genres of the time, but he is best known for his six symphonies, which significantly contributed to the renewal of the genre in the 20th century . . . . His activities as conductor, teacher and writer made him the most prominent and influential Danish musician of his time, although international recognition was sporadic in his lifetime, it has grown steadily since the 1950s, especially in Britain and the USA. (Grove Music Online S.v. “Nielsen, Carl”).
Among Nielsen’s output are three concertos, one for violin, flute, and clarinet. The latter is regarded by many clarinetists as one of the most challenging yet rewarding concertos in the clarinet repertoire. Its overt displays of virtuosity and the wide range of musical ideas make for a brilliant performance when it is played well. Yet elements that have struck fear in the heart of many clarinetists include the use of the extreme altissimo, the grueling length of the work, and the extremely difficult technical passages. Despite these challenges, or perhaps because of them, it has become a staple in the clarinet repertoire.
The story of the Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto is intimately connected with the writing of his Woodwind Quintet, composed in 1922 for the members of the Copenhagen Wind Quintet (Lawson, Carl Nielsen, p. 175). Nielsen planned to compose a concerto for each of the Copenhagen Quintet members. The first of these was his Flute Concerto, written in 1926 for the flutist Gilbert Jespersen. The Clarinet Concerto, written for Aage Oxenvad, was the second as well as the last of his woodwind concertos, finished in 1928, four years before Nielsen’s death. It met with mixed reviews from audiences (Jack Lawson, Carl Nielsen, p. 206). Although it elicited favorable comments from some, it was poorly received by others such as the Olaf Peterson, who called it: “absolutely the worst thing that this slightly too obviously experimental and provocatively sidestepping Dane has yet put together. . . Nielson hereby confesses himself to be a cacophonist” (Jack Lawson, Carl Nielsen, pp. 205 & 206). Despite this harsh criticism, Clarinet Concerto has become a staple of the modern clarinet repertoire.
Although it has gained an accepted place in the solo clarinet repertoire, the Clarinet Concerto does not make for easy listening. When I first heard the piece years ago, I remember admiring the virtuosity of the performer, but disliking the Concerto. The large amount of dissonance, the lack of catchy melodies, and the meandering length of the work, make for difficult listening. Indeed, Nielsen himself hinted that this piece would be difficult to listen to: “I actually have no idea how it will sound. Maybe it won’t sound good, but I will not compose music if I always have to compose it in the same manner” (Jack Lawson, Carl Nielsen, p. 205). Despite the fact that many average listeners remain indifferent to the piece, clarinetists still perform this work quite frequently, relishing the challenge it presents to push their capabilities to the limit. Robert Simpson writes: “The tense Clarinet Concerto, hitting every nail ruthlessly on the head, is the finest since Mozart’s masterpiece . . .”(Carl Nielsen: Symphonist, p. 146). After almost one hundred years, the Nielsen Concerto is still enjoying success. It remains to be seen whether it can stand the test of time as long as Mozart’s Concerto has.
Scored for string orchestra, a pair of bassoons, a pair of horns, and a snare drum, the concerto lasts for about twenty four minutes. Unlike the standard three movement concerto of the Romantic Period, Nielsen’s concerto is one long work divided into four separate sections run together without breaks. The first section, marked “Allegretto un poco,” starts with an energetic opening theme before moving into a lyrical second theme that suggests of blues in with its flat sevenths and slight relaxation of tempo. The second section, marked “Poco adagio,” is in ABA form and starts with a meandering, melancholy melody in the clarinet before moving into a militaristic B section in which the clarinet soars over the dotted rhythms of the strings and punctuation of the snare drum. Snatches of the theme of the first movement interspersed are generously throughout the movement. One of the most memorable moments in the third section, marked “Allegro non troppo,” is the counterpoint between a humorously disjunctive bassoon melody and the clarinet’s more elegant rendering of the same melody. About the fourth movement, marked “Allegro vivace,” Stephen Johnson observes in the liner notes, “The clarinet’s tender solo before the last burst of Allegro centres [sic] on the same two notes with which the solo part of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto begins—Nielsen would have known that this was Mozart’s last major completed work.” The cadenzas of this concerto contain the most challenging sections to the soloist. Covering the clarinet’s full range with rapid runs and leaps, they are usually accompanied by the snare drum, which plays a prominent role throughout the concerto. In the liner notes to the recording, Stephen Johnson sheds light on the snare drum’s unique role:
Nielsen described the clarinet as ‘troll-lie’. In Scandinavian legend Trolls are famously changeable: beguilingly beautiful one minute, hideous the next. Like the flute in the earlier concerto, the clarinet has an intriguing alter ego: a side drum, which Nielsen requests should be ‘of the smallest possible size and the brightest tone’. Throughout, the side drum behaves like an impish sidekick, goading the troll on; perhaps trying to prevent him growing too melancholy.
After covering a wide gamut of emotions, the concerto draws to a quite close, leaving the listener as well as the soloist exhausted.
Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto presents something of an enigma. Its dissonance and the complexity of its melodic scheme could be one possible reason why this piece is not contained in the Canon. Another reason could be that Nielsen’s music does not neatly fit into either of the two main musical styles of the time, namely, serialism or neoclassicism. However, it has firmly established its place within the clarinet repertoire. What makes this concerto so appealing to clarinetists while being overlooked by the average listener? I think the answer lies in the fact that this piece is one of the challenges par excellence of the clarinet repertoire. To perform the Nielsen is almost a right of passage into the realm of advanced clarinet playing. Executing blistering runs, tastefully presenting the many themes, surviving the twenty four minute length and often performing from memory, are challenges that are just too enticing for the ambitious clarinetist to pass by! Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, which arguably holds a secure place in the Canon, is not likely to be eclipsed any time soon. But for the daring listener or performer, Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto presents a challenge for those willing to stray off the beaten path.
One of the most important and free-spirited of the generation of composers who straddle the 19th and 20th centuries, his music covers a wide range of styles, from Brahmsian Romanticism at the outset to a high-principled, personal brand of neo-classicism in his last years. He composed in virtually all the main genres of the time, but he is best known for his six symphonies, which significantly contributed to the renewal of the genre in the 20th century . . . . His activities as conductor, teacher and writer made him the most prominent and influential Danish musician of his time, although international recognition was sporadic in his lifetime, it has grown steadily since the 1950s, especially in Britain and the USA. (Grove Music Online S.v. “Nielsen, Carl”).
Among Nielsen’s output are three concertos, one for violin, flute, and clarinet. The latter is regarded by many clarinetists as one of the most challenging yet rewarding concertos in the clarinet repertoire. Its overt displays of virtuosity and the wide range of musical ideas make for a brilliant performance when it is played well. Yet elements that have struck fear in the heart of many clarinetists include the use of the extreme altissimo, the grueling length of the work, and the extremely difficult technical passages. Despite these challenges, or perhaps because of them, it has become a staple in the clarinet repertoire.
The story of the Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto is intimately connected with the writing of his Woodwind Quintet, composed in 1922 for the members of the Copenhagen Wind Quintet (Lawson, Carl Nielsen, p. 175). Nielsen planned to compose a concerto for each of the Copenhagen Quintet members. The first of these was his Flute Concerto, written in 1926 for the flutist Gilbert Jespersen. The Clarinet Concerto, written for Aage Oxenvad, was the second as well as the last of his woodwind concertos, finished in 1928, four years before Nielsen’s death. It met with mixed reviews from audiences (Jack Lawson, Carl Nielsen, p. 206). Although it elicited favorable comments from some, it was poorly received by others such as the Olaf Peterson, who called it: “absolutely the worst thing that this slightly too obviously experimental and provocatively sidestepping Dane has yet put together. . . Nielson hereby confesses himself to be a cacophonist” (Jack Lawson, Carl Nielsen, pp. 205 & 206). Despite this harsh criticism, Clarinet Concerto has become a staple of the modern clarinet repertoire.
Although it has gained an accepted place in the solo clarinet repertoire, the Clarinet Concerto does not make for easy listening. When I first heard the piece years ago, I remember admiring the virtuosity of the performer, but disliking the Concerto. The large amount of dissonance, the lack of catchy melodies, and the meandering length of the work, make for difficult listening. Indeed, Nielsen himself hinted that this piece would be difficult to listen to: “I actually have no idea how it will sound. Maybe it won’t sound good, but I will not compose music if I always have to compose it in the same manner” (Jack Lawson, Carl Nielsen, p. 205). Despite the fact that many average listeners remain indifferent to the piece, clarinetists still perform this work quite frequently, relishing the challenge it presents to push their capabilities to the limit. Robert Simpson writes: “The tense Clarinet Concerto, hitting every nail ruthlessly on the head, is the finest since Mozart’s masterpiece . . .”(Carl Nielsen: Symphonist, p. 146). After almost one hundred years, the Nielsen Concerto is still enjoying success. It remains to be seen whether it can stand the test of time as long as Mozart’s Concerto has.
Scored for string orchestra, a pair of bassoons, a pair of horns, and a snare drum, the concerto lasts for about twenty four minutes. Unlike the standard three movement concerto of the Romantic Period, Nielsen’s concerto is one long work divided into four separate sections run together without breaks. The first section, marked “Allegretto un poco,” starts with an energetic opening theme before moving into a lyrical second theme that suggests of blues in with its flat sevenths and slight relaxation of tempo. The second section, marked “Poco adagio,” is in ABA form and starts with a meandering, melancholy melody in the clarinet before moving into a militaristic B section in which the clarinet soars over the dotted rhythms of the strings and punctuation of the snare drum. Snatches of the theme of the first movement interspersed are generously throughout the movement. One of the most memorable moments in the third section, marked “Allegro non troppo,” is the counterpoint between a humorously disjunctive bassoon melody and the clarinet’s more elegant rendering of the same melody. About the fourth movement, marked “Allegro vivace,” Stephen Johnson observes in the liner notes, “The clarinet’s tender solo before the last burst of Allegro centres [sic] on the same two notes with which the solo part of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto begins—Nielsen would have known that this was Mozart’s last major completed work.” The cadenzas of this concerto contain the most challenging sections to the soloist. Covering the clarinet’s full range with rapid runs and leaps, they are usually accompanied by the snare drum, which plays a prominent role throughout the concerto. In the liner notes to the recording, Stephen Johnson sheds light on the snare drum’s unique role:
Nielsen described the clarinet as ‘troll-lie’. In Scandinavian legend Trolls are famously changeable: beguilingly beautiful one minute, hideous the next. Like the flute in the earlier concerto, the clarinet has an intriguing alter ego: a side drum, which Nielsen requests should be ‘of the smallest possible size and the brightest tone’. Throughout, the side drum behaves like an impish sidekick, goading the troll on; perhaps trying to prevent him growing too melancholy.
After covering a wide gamut of emotions, the concerto draws to a quite close, leaving the listener as well as the soloist exhausted.
Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto presents something of an enigma. Its dissonance and the complexity of its melodic scheme could be one possible reason why this piece is not contained in the Canon. Another reason could be that Nielsen’s music does not neatly fit into either of the two main musical styles of the time, namely, serialism or neoclassicism. However, it has firmly established its place within the clarinet repertoire. What makes this concerto so appealing to clarinetists while being overlooked by the average listener? I think the answer lies in the fact that this piece is one of the challenges par excellence of the clarinet repertoire. To perform the Nielsen is almost a right of passage into the realm of advanced clarinet playing. Executing blistering runs, tastefully presenting the many themes, surviving the twenty four minute length and often performing from memory, are challenges that are just too enticing for the ambitious clarinetist to pass by! Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, which arguably holds a secure place in the Canon, is not likely to be eclipsed any time soon. But for the daring listener or performer, Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto presents a challenge for those willing to stray off the beaten path.
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