We continue our survey of cult symphonies with works by the English composer Havergal Brian and Dutchman Matthijs Vermeulen.
[Havergal Brian, 1897]
1. Havergal Brian, Symphony No 1 in D minor "Gothic" [1919-27]
The English composer Havergal Brian (1876-1972) lived a very long life during which he was mostly neglected by the musical establishment. He is known for two things: the large number of symphonies he wrote, mostly at a very high age - the total count is 32, of which 21 pieces were written after his eightieth birthday; and the fact that his first symphony, "The Gothic," is one of the longest symphonies ever composed, if not the longest (at least, according to the Guinness Book of Records), clocking in at between 100 and 110 minutes of music. It is a choral symphony like Beethoven's Ninth and Mahler's Eighth and massive forces are necessary to perform it: at a minimum 750, ideally over 800. These consist of four vocal soloists, two double choruses totaling about 500 voices plus a children’s choir, four brass bands, and a super-sized Mahlerian orchestra. Of course, great time span and numerous performers do not spell intrinsic greatness - but in the case of Brian's Gothic these gargantuan dimensions were indeed necessary to express the ideas of the composer. This is all the more so as Brian was not an extravagant but rather a very concise composer. His later symphonies last only between 10 and 20 minutes, Brian only composed essence and no fillers. The symphony consists of three purely orchestral movements followed by a gigantic setting of the Te Deum and it was the vision that demanded the enormous size. Musically, too, the symphony's scope is very broad, ranging from evocations of Gregorian chant to near-atonality and tone clusters. The choral writing is extremely difficult and a hard nut to crack for even the best choirs. But except in the climaxes, this work is no juggernaut of sound. It is unexpectedly delicate, Brian uses his immense forces with artistic restraint: he has the choir often sing a capella, and there is even a 90 second xylophone solo.
What was Brian's vision? "Gothic" as Brian uses the term here, points to the Gothic style in architecture, to ages in which the great cathedrals of Northern Europe were built. Brian saw these huge stone edifices as symbols of Western culture, as monuments to the struggle of the human spirit against immense odds. Such a struggle had just taken place: the Great War, which had shaken Western values by its cruel violence and unbelievable death toll. Brian, however, reaffirms the idealistic Western tradition in the vast choral movements of the symphony - the Te Deum is meant in a secular rather than religious way. On the other hand, in the orchestral movements Brian reflects on the horrors of the war. Take for example the start of the first movement which its violent timpani attack propelling the music forward, or the brutal, raw march in the second movement. But war and peace go together, there are also moments of great beauty such as the passage for solo violin near the end of the first movement.
Brian attached a quotation from Goethe's Faust to the symphony, that "those who strive with all their might will be redeemed," something which also seems to refer to his own situation. How can one strive more than by writing such a huge symphony? It is incredible that Brian had the energy to write this massive symphony at age 51, after a life of almost total neglect. Havergal Brian had a working class background and was self-taught in music. As an ardent fan of contemporary English composers he attended many music festivals and so became the friend of his near-contemporary composer Granville Bantock (1868–1946). His first success as a composer came in 1907 when his First English Suite was performed at the Proms by Henry Wood. Unfortunately, also due to vicissitudes in his personal life, Brian could not maintain this success and he fell again into oblivion. He had to work as a copyist to make both ends meet and finally became assistant editor of a musical magazine, a position he would keep until his retirement age. In the 1920s he turned to composing symphonies, with great tenacity, for the first of these was only performed in the early 1950s. The Gothic Symphony saw an amateur performance in 1961 and the first professional performance followed in 1966 under Sir Adrian Boult, when Brian was already ninety years of age!
Brian's music is not easy on the listener, and even today many critics just don't get it. Brian offers solutions to musical problems that are different from the mainstream - something he has in common with other "eccentric" "cult" composers, who all found their own, individually new solutions. Brian uses traditional (late-Romantic) idioms in a wholly nontraditional way, thereby severely undercutting the expectations of the listener. He places harmonic opulence at the side of lean polyphony, he combines types of music that are mutually inimical, he elides transitions, suddenly switching from one mood to the next. His music is often extremely violent, but that is paired with sudden patches of peaceful and soft music. In other words, he continually pulls the rug away under the feet of the listener. Such music would benefit by a long performance tradition - after all the performers have to pull all those heterogeneous elements together - , but unfortunately today's so-called "top orchestras" prefer to sleepwalk through the zillionth performance of Beethoven's Fifth instead of having the courage to tackle something new.
The Dutch composer Matthijs Vermeulen (1888-1967) had - like Havergal Brian - a working class background. Born in the southern part of the Netherlands, he initially wanted to become a priest, but when he heard the 16th c. polyphonic masters in his seminary, he discovered that his true calling was music. In Amsterdam, he received for two years free lessons from conservatory director Daniël de Lange, but due to financial constraints, he never followed a formal musical education. In 1909 he started working as a musical journalist, standing out for his clear style and advocacy of contemporary composers like Debussy, Mahler and the Dutchman Diepenbrock. As a journalist, he soon became a musical authority. In 1914 he completed his First Symphony but as he had a difficult relationship with the Dutch musical establishment in the person of Willem Mengelberg (in his newspaper reviews, Vermeulen criticized Dutch concert life as too much German-oriented, Vermeulen pleaded for a more French orientation), he could not get it performed (until 50 years later, when it was programmed by Bernard Haitink). As he saw no perspective in The Netherlands, in 1921 he moved with his family to France, but also there his music could not find its way into the concert hall. From 1926 to 1940 he worked as the French correspondent for a Dutch colonial newspaper from Indonesia, writing on every possible topic except music. Finally, in 1939 his Third Symphony was performed by the Concertgebouw Orchestra conducted by Eduard van Beinum, inspiring Vermeulen to write two more symphonies during the dark war years. These years also brought heavy personal loss (his son was killed by the Germans). In 1946 Vermeulen returned to The Netherlands where he again became active as musical journalist (he was the best musical journalist Holland has ever known, but of course, that constant journalism also was a waste of his talent). He now continued composing his small but fine oeuvre, where symphonies stand in the central position. Vermeulen wrote a total of seven. Besides that he wrote chamber music: two cello sonatas, a violin sonata and several songs. His difficult music never became popular and his audience remained limited to a small cult following.
Vermeulen's musical style, besides being atonal and contrapuntal, was in the first place based on the technique of poly-melodicism, the simultaneous combination of several melodic lines. Frequently Vermeulen spins long melismas into continuous melodies, in a free rhythm of flowing lines. Vermeulen saw this multi-voiced, polymelodic way of composition in a political light: for him it was the true expression of freedom, all individuals being able to freely express and develop themselves, without infringing upon the freedom of others to do the same. Vermeulen's music is filled with vitality and power, often leading to an obsessive, march-like propulsion.
The Sixth Symphony carries the subtitle "Les Minutes Heureuses," after a poem by Baudelaire, "I know the art of evoking happy minutes." On top of that, the symphony has been composed on the notes la do re, or L'adore, "the adored one." Adoration is the basis of being human and also of music. The arc the music follows is both a crescendo and a spiral. The three movements are played without interruption. The calm first movement ends with an apotheosis of la-do-re in the brass. The second movement is an Andante amoroso with a beautiful melody in the cor anglais, interspersed with brass and percussion fanfares. The last movement is fast and is propulsed upwards towards a big climax.
Kyoto, the old capital, is full of graves. When you walk through Shinkyogoku, the popular shopping street between Shijo and Sanjo that is almost a Harajuku look-alike, you are in the midst of a huge graveyard. Nobody notices, young people are on shopping sprees as if there were no other things in the world.
I learned the truth by looking over walls, and by staying in the business hotels on Kawaramachi Street, where you look down on the many small temples from your room. Then you get a very different view of the area: an endless graveyard with a snake of oblivious youth and abandon slithering through it...
[Tomb of Izumi Shikibu in Seishin-in Temple]
One of the most famous graves here is that of Izumi Shikibu, a woman court poet and diarist who lived around the year 1000. Izumi Shikibu lived a life of love and passion that earned her the nickname "The Floating Lady." So she must still feel at home here, in Kyoto's entertainment center and perhaps she likes the sounds of youth passing by. But nobody stops for her anymore and her grave is stone cold.
The major temple in this area is Seiganji, now standing somewhat forlorn in Shinkyogoku, Kyoto's busy shopping street. But the gate and doors of the main hall are always wide open and from the street passersby can greet the large Amida Buddha seated in the hall.
[The welcoming entrance of Seiganji]
Although the graves remain, Seiganji has lost most of its land. It used to be a huge temple that even claims to have been founded in the late 7th c. Under the influence of Honen it turned to Pure Land Buddhism, as testified by its Amida statue. It only came to this location in last quarter of the 16th c., due to the redesign of Kyoto by Hideyoshi. One of Hideyoshi's concubines sponsored the temple, which then had many halls and even a pagoda. The area around Seiganji became a “town in front of the temple gate" where boisterous temple markets were held and that is how it spent the Edo-period.
The infamous Tenmei fire of 1788 claimed most of the temple buildings, including its original main statue, and modernisation did the rest. In the early Meiji-period, Kyoto Governor Makimura Masanao wanted to revitalize the city which had lost the Emperor, and he did this by creating a modern entertainment district with cinemas and theaters. That was Shinkyogoku and Seiganji gradually was dwarfed into oblivion.
[Wishes written on fans]
It is interesting to note that Seiganji did already have a link with entertainment. The most famous abbot of Seiganji was Anrakuan Sakuden (1554 – 1642), the man credited as being the earliest Rakugo comic story teller. His stories have been preserved in the aptly named compilation Sobering Laughter - apparently he started using comic stories while preaching, in order to keep his audience from falling asleep.
[The Fan Grave]
Thanks to the artistic impulse of Sakuden, the temple became popular with performers and artists who wanted to advance in their profession. The Fan Grave was built as a monument to the remembrance of Sakuden - the fan is the only implement used by Rakugo storytellers - and instead of the usual wooden votive planks, at Seiganji people write their wish on fans. And that is a form of elegance that very well fits the area...
This post starts a small series about unique symphonies from the 20th c., written by composers who were considered as "eccentrics" and sometimes even "outsiders." It was Stravinsky who once asked the question: "Is it possible to link a musician like Scriabin to any tradition? Where did he come from? Who are his predecessors?" Inspired by this question, I have looked for symphonies by Scriabin and other 20th c. eccentric and intriguing composers. In this post and following ones I plan to write about Rued Langgaard, Jon Leifs, Alan Pettersson, Matthijs Vermeulen, Havergal Brian, Charles Ives, Olivier Messiaen, Alexander Tcherepnin, Charles Koechlin, Alan Hovhaness and others. What were they, mystics or madmen? Visionaries or imposters? Bring on the mavericks and listen to the answer in their music!
[Scriabin]
1. Alexander Scriabin, Symphony No 3 in C minor Op. 43 "Le Divin Poème" [1904]
The Russian composer and pianist Scriabin (1872-1915) was a sort of solipsist, Nietsche's Übermensch in a sickly body. He considered himself as God and proved it by being born on the same day as Jesus, and by managing to die during Easter. He embraced Helen Blavatsky's Theosophy, because it agreed with ideas he had already developed for himself. He was an aristocrat with a sound musical education who went off in a never before explored dissonant direction. Although famous during his lifetime, he was soon forgotten after his too early death as the Soviets didn't like him. He wrote a sonata called "Black Mass," but also one called "White Mass." In works as "Poem of Ecstasy," he introduced sexual orgasms in music. He devised a color system for musical keys based on the circle of fifths, in which C is bright red, a form of synesthesia. In his "Poem of Fire" he used a specially developed color organ, that projected colored light on a screen in the concert hall rather than making sound. His music was increasingly dominated by "mystic chords" and grew more and more dissonant. At the time of his death, he worked on a final, apocalyptic masterpiece, "Mysterium." This multimedia work that also included a light show and the scattering of perfumes, would have to be performed at the Himalayas, after which "a grandiose religious synthesis of all arts would herald the birth of a new world." Scriabin saw music as a synthesized art form that could put humans in touch with a spiritual realm.
Scriabin in the first place wrote for his own instrument, the piano. There are preludes and etudes, an early piano concerto, but the greatest achievement here are the ten sonatas. He also wrote five symphonies, including the Divine Poem (1903), the Poem of Ecstasy (1907), and the Poem of Fire or Prometheus (1909).
The Third Symphony which I have selected here, is a sort of Fin-de-siecle Gothic "soul drama," written for vast orchestral forces. It came into being at a happy time in Scriabin's life when he had left his teaching post in Moscow and was free for creative composition, but also a time he was reading Nietsche and Marx, abandoned his wife and children for a young mistress and moved to Switzerland for new inspiration (this was in the summer of 1903). The subject matter of the symphony is the development of the human spirit towards the divine. Man's Ego consists of a "divine part" and "slavish part" and these continually struggle with each other, until they finally attain unity and bliss and so true freedom. The symphony consists of three parts, linked without pause: (1) Luttes ("Struggles"), a mysterious and tragic Allegro in "red" c minor; (2) Voluptés ("Delights"), a sublime Lento in "white-blue" E major; and (3) Jeu divin ("Divine Play"), a radiantly joyful Allegro in "red" C major. The work starts with a short prologue (Lento) which introduces the three "leading motives " of the symphony : "Divine Grandeur" (an unforgettable motif in the low brass), "The Summons to Man" (an ascending trumpet call) and the " Fear to approach, suggestive of Flight" (literally "flighty" strings). These are combined throughout the work with the various subjects, and indeed some of the subjects are derived from them; the climax is reached in the "Ego theme" of the finale. And of course, if you prefer to regard all these metaphysics as so much hot air, you can also enjoy Scriabin's music on a purely abstract level!
Recording listened to: The Danish National Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Neeme Jarvi on Chandos.
[Ives as businessman]
2. Charles Ives, Symphony No. 4 [1910-1916]
The composer Charles Ives (1874-1954) was completely out of sync with his time. His music was too modern for the ears of his contemporaries and remained largely ignored. Even professional musicians did not understand him - when he showed them his scores, they would respond by either laughter or anger! Ives was the ultimate outsider - although he was already a professional organist at age 14 and trained in music at Yale, he decided to pursue a career in business due to lack of musical perspective. Ives went into insurance in New York and was so successful that he managed to establish his own company. He became a radical in suit and tie. Of course, this meant a dual career, for Ives composed in the evenings and weekends, creating a sizable oeuvre that often had no chance to leave his desk drawer. Indeed, most of his works went unperformed until a decade before his death, when the world finally caught up with him - in 1947, his Third Symphony was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music, although it had already been written between 1908 and 1910! And today, Ives is considered as the greatest, truly American composer who ever lived...
Ives was born as the son of a bandmaster in a small Connecticut town. His life was full of music and he early learned to play the piano and organ. His music is permeated with the marches and hymn tunes he heard in his youth. What especially impressed him was the sound produced by two town bands marching up against each other and mingling their music in dissonance. It was even better when at the same time a hymn sung in a nearby church was mixed into the cacophony! Ives was so impressed by this phenomenon, that as a boy he already wrote bi-tonal pieces and experimented with multi-rhythm - two elements that would become the main stage of his mature work, together with the mixing of popular music with serious music. Perceptually, Ives was influenced by the New England transcendentalist writers Emerson and Thoreau.
Charles Ives wrote 5 symphonies, 3 orchestral sets (in fact, also a kind of symphonies), 4 violin sonatas, 2 piano sonatas, 2 string quartets, works for organ and hundreds of songs. He wrote most of his music in the 1900s and 1910s, after 1918 when his health deteriorated he wrote very little and after 1926 he wrote no new music at all anymore. The irony about Ives is that the rural, patriotic America he so nostalgically recreated in his music, had no use whatsoever for that same music.
The first modernist works Ives wrote were Central Park in the Dark, where one hears strains of music from bars and music halls mingle, and The Unanswered Question, a dialogue for a questioning trumpet and answering strings, with the final question about the meaning if life remaining unanswered. Ives left behind material for an unfinished "Universe Symphony," which reminds me of the largely unwritten Mysterium by Scriabin - two huge works that tried to encompass the whole world, but took on more than their composers (or in fact anyone) could bear.
Perhaps the most remarkable piece of orchestral music Ives completed was his Fourth Symphony (1910–16). The list of forces required to perform the work is extraordinary and eccentric in the sense that although six trumpets are called for, one of them only plays one note in the whole piece; and a whole choir has to join and sit on stage during the length of the symphony, while it only sees 30 seconds of action at the beginning and again at the end. For a certain part of the work, a second conductor is necessary. No wonder this symphony, although considered as the culmination of Ives' musical achievement, is seldom performed. The first complete performance was given in 1965, more than a decade after Ives' death. The symphony starts with a prelude that asks questions to which the succeeding movements try to provide answers - in the style of The Unanswered Question. It also contains a hymn, "Watchman, tell us the night." The second movement is a riotous multiphony quoting dozens of well-known American tunes, an Allegretto inspired by a story of Hawthorne. Ives himself described the third movement, a fugue, as "an expression of the reaction of life into formalism and ritualism." The final movement, Largo maestoso, is a sort of struggle between dissonance and traditional tonal music, taking up earlier motifs and building to a tremendous climax (with the choir) after which the piece ends quietly with just the percussion playing as if from a distance. Ives said this "had something to do with the reality of existence and its religious experience."
Rued Langgaard (1893 - 1952) was a late-Romantic Danish eccentric composer and organist. We have heard the same story in the case of Ives: his music was so unconventional that it went often unperformed until more than a decade after his death - not because he was radically avant-garde, but because he was so completely "different." Langgaard was not appreciated by his contemporaries and came into conflict with the powers that be of Danish music - in the person of Carl Nielsen - , losing any chance of being performed. Langaard only late in life managed to land his first fixed job, as church organist in the small old town of Ribe. At the time of his death he was already completely forgotten, but since the 1970s, Langaard has been rediscovered as an "ecstatic outsider" and is now considered as an important and visionary composer.
Langaard has more than 400 works to his name, including 16 symphonies, the Music of the Spheres, 150 songs, works for piano, organ, and an opera entitled The Antichrist. Langaard saw music as a fight between good and evil and the 6th symphony, with the title "The Heaven Storming" is the embodiment of such a cosmic conflict. Langgaard's music is visionary, extreme and bizarre.
The Sixth Symphony of 1919-1920 is one of Langaard's strongest works. The subtitle means "The Heaven Storming." Here Langgaard releases the forces of good and evil, light and dark, and God and Satan against each other. This Christian-based contrasting of "good and evil" is not my worldview, I rather think in shades of grey, but it makes for good drama. The apocalyptic symphony is in one continuous movement that takes the form of variations on a theme. That theme permeates the whole symphony and has two different shapes, a pure, light one, and a dark, chromatic one. Langaard displays absolute technical mastery of the orchestra and invokes the enormous power of the brass to drive "the storming armies of evil under the canopy of heaven." One of the most astonishing symphonies I know.
The Kansai area boasts many interesting old towns for those fond of strolling through history. Here is a first selection of three, lesser-known places: Tatsuno, Tanba-Sasayama (both in Hyogo Prefecture) and Yuasa (Wakayama Prefecture).
[Tatsuno - Castle]
1. Tatsuno Tatsuno is a small former castle town in south-western Hyogo Prefecture, at just 15 kilometers distance from Himeji in the Harima region. Located on the Ibo River, Tatsuno thrived as a center of industry and transport. It is famous for three things: it was (and is) the center for the production of soy sauce in the Kansai (together with Shodoshima and - to a lesser degree - Yuasa below); it was (and is) also the center for the production of somen noodles in Western Japan (another center is Sakurai in Nara Pref.); and it was the birthplace of the poet Miki Rofu who wrote the children's song "Akatombo" ("Red Dragonfly"), which every Japanese knows. The old part of the small town, across the river, still exudes a nice historic atmosphere. You will be pleasantly surprised by the lack of tourists.
[Tatsuno - Soy Sauce Museum]
Places to visit:
Tatsuno "Usukuchi" Soy Sauce Museum Soy sauce developed from miso (it was initially a by-product of miso manufacture) in the 16th century, initially in Yuasa (see below). As a heavy press is necessary for making soy sauce, a real industry developed in contrast to the production of miso which often took place in small shops. Edo-period production centers for soy sauce were Noda, Choshi (both in Chiba Prefecture), Shodoshima and Tatsuno. Soy production in Tatsuno was started in the period 1587-1590 by Maruoya Magozaemon; in 1666 Maruoya Magouemon developed light colored shoyu ("usukuchi shoyu"), which became very popular in the Kansai region, as it adds flavor without coloring the ingredients, something which fits the delicate cuisine of Kyoto. This soy sauce became possible thanks to the water of the Ibo River which is soft, with minimal iron content (the higher the iron content, the darker the sauce sauce; and hard water is less suitable to extract subtle flavors than soft water). Other ingredients are also local, such as the salt from Ako. Tatsuno producers also make use of amazake (a sweet rice drink) to enhance the flavor, aroma and color of their soy sauce. Note, by the way, that despite the lighter color, Usukuchi Shoyu is somewhat saltier than the darker type. Tatsuno soy sauce has flourished through the ages and is still being produced by Higashimaru and others. The museum has been established in a retro building that used to be the office of the Higashimaru soy sauce company and displays soy sauce making tools that were used until the early Showa period.
Site of Tatsuno Castle. The present castle with its white walls and turrets is a reconstruction. The original dates back to 1499 and sat on the top of the mountain; after that, a new castle was built in the present location at the foot of the same mountain in 1672. The castle grounds are a good sakura blossom spot. There is also a reconstruction of the Honmaru palace.
In Tatsuno Park stands a monument to the famous children's song "Akatombo (Red Dragonfly)" - it will even play the song for those who have forgotten the melody.
Visit the "Somen no Sato" Museum of the Ibonoito company, a 15 min walk from the next JR station, Higashi-Hashisaki, to learn more about tenobe (hand-stretched) somen noodles. These fine wheat noodles have been produced in the area since 1418. The facility features a demonstration and sampling corner, a production site, shops, a diorama of somen making, etc.
How to get there: The historical area in Tatsuno is a 20-minute walk from JR Hon-Tatsuno Station (across the river); Hon-Tatsuno is 20 minutes by local train on the JR Kishin line from Himeji.
[Tanba-Sasayama - Tanba Pottery Museum]
2. Tanba-Sasayama Sasayama in the Tanba area of Hyogo is a small castle town, located on a bucolic plain, that preserves many old buildings around the castle and in its old merchant's quarter. The tourist center of the town is housed in a retro building dating to 1924, called Taisho Romankan; there are also a restaurant inside, and a shop selling local produce, such as kuromame (black soy beans). Despite the long list of museums below, the greatest pleasure of Sasayama is just to stroll through the old town and make your own discoveries. As museums go, the three at the top of the below list are the best.
Places to visit:
Tanba Kotokan (Old Tanba Pottery Museum). Museum dedicated to traditional Tanba pottery, housed in a wonderful group of old rice storehouses. Beautiful old pots (ranging from the Kamakura-period to the Edo-period) in a wonderful environment. Tanba-yaki is not made in Tanba-Sasayama, but in the village of Tachikui, where you will find the kilns, and which also is home to the The Museum of Ceramic Art, Hyogo.
Nohgaku Shiryokan (Noh Museum). Museum dedicated to the Noh Theater, displaying masks, robes, and instruments. A model of a Noh stage shows the large pots (of course, made from Tanba-yaki) placed beneath the wooden floor for acoustical effect. The connection of Tanba-Sasayama with Noh is via the Aoyama castle lords who in 1858 built a Noh stage at the local Kasuga Shrine.
Sasayama Rekishi Bijutsukan (Sasayama Historical Art Museum). The museum is housed in Japan's oldest district court building, which was in use from 1890 to 1981. On display are both artworks (often originally belonging to the Aoyama castle lords) and historical objects: screens, maps, the local pottery called Ohjiyama-yaki, lacquerware, porcelain, old armor, etc.
Castle Ruin and Oshoin. Sasayama castle was built in 1609 at the order of Tokugawa Ieyasu. The Oshoin palace building was destroyed by fire in 1944. It has now been reconstructed, using ancient building techniques, and with much attention to detail.
Aoyama History Museum. The entrance gate is a Nagaya gate from the Edo-period. Exhibits include printing blocks and other artifacts from the Edo-period.
Anma's Historical Museum (Buke-yashiki Samurai House). Anma was a vassal of Aoyama, the feudal lord of Sasayama. In this traditional samurai house some furniture and cooking vessels are on display.
Tamba Toji Sake Brewery Museum. The Tamba Toji Sake Brewery Museum explains the origin of the important Tamba Toji master brewers as well as the sake brewing process with displays of old-fashioned tools. There is also a sake brewery in town, the Homei Brewery, which is housed in a nice old building.
How to get there: Take the JR Takarazuka Line rapid service from Amagasaki to Sasayamaguchi, then 15 min bus to the center of the old town. Sasayama Tourism page.
[Yuasa - the old town]
3. Yuasa Yuasa, located about half an hour by train south of Wakayama City, is like Tatsuno another old soy town. In fact, it is the oldest soy town in Japan for it was here that soy sauce was discovered as a by-product from the manufacture of miso paste. That miso was called Kinzanji miso and it was made in Kokokuji Temple in nearby Yura. It is still being produced in Yuasa and served in its restaurants - as a pickled side dish, containing small bits of vegetables. Miso was not only used for soups, but was perhaps first and for all a pickling agent. The liquid that dripped out of the miso as it matures is technically known as miso-damari, and is a very thick sort of soy sauce. Yuasa flourished from the 17th to 19th centuries thanks to the production of both soy sauce and Kinzanji miso. In its heyday, there were 92 soy sauce factories, of which now four remain.
Places to visit:
The old quarter with historical homes is a 10 min walk from Yuasa station. There are no big destinations here, but Yuasa is just fun to walk around in. You will find a small (free) soy museum where old tools for making soy sauce are on display. In the same street are two old shops, Kadocho making and selling premium soy sauce (since 1841), and Ohta Hisasuke Ginsei making and selling miso. There is also a small (free) historical museum called Jinburo. Among the several temples in town, Jinsenji is probably the most interesting: it has a small dry garden in front of the main hall (dating from 1663) and outside, next to the gate, stands a monument dedicated to the great earthquake and tsunami of 1854. The townscape here has been designated as a special preservation district.
Yuasa Soy Sauce. Marushin Honke had retreated from soy sauce manufacturing in 1965, and concentrated on the more profitable Kinzanji Miso. However, in recent years under the name Yuasa Soy Sauce a separate soy sauce company was again set up. Traditional soy making takes place here and the factory is always open to visitors - with large parking lots for tour buses it is a bit commercialised, but the friendly staff gives detailed explanations, making a visit certainly worthwhile. They make various premium kinds of soy sauce - for example with black beans from Tanba - and are active in export. The factory and shop stand along Route 42, on the opposite side from the old town when coming from Yuasa Station. From the station, turn right and follow the road until you reach the large grounds of a school. Here turn right again, and keep going straight on, crossing the railroad, until you reach a busy road (Route 42). Here turn left and you will soon see the signboards of Yuasa Soy Sauce.
Yuasa is part of the municipality of Arida, which thanks to the warm climate is one of the most famous mikan producing areas in Japan. In the season, you will see the mikan-tress on the hillsides when your train approaches Yuasa, and you can buy the fruit everywhere in town.
Another local delicacy isshirasu-don, whitebait over rice. You can taste it (together with Kinzanji miso) in Kadoya, a restaurant standing to the left on the opposite side of the street from the station.
How to get there: Yuasa is just over 40 min. from Wakayama City by JR Kinokuni line.
My favorite string instrument is the cello (see my posts about the Best Cello Concertos and Best Cello Sonatas), so you might suppose that I would opt for the clarinet among the woodwind. But the clarinet is too "fuzzy" for me, the instrument I prefer is the oboe with its clear, nasal tone. The oboe has two faces, which makes it all the more interesting: "snappy" when played in fast movements, and sweetly melancholic in slower pieces.
As the original name, hautbois ("high wood", which was corrupted as "hoboy" and then "oboe" in English) shows, the instrument originated in France. That was in the mid-17th c., when it developed out of its predecessor, the shawm, the typical instrument of street bands (and, at least in literature, shepherds). Although the exact place and date of origin are not known, the Philidor and Hotteterre families may have been involved, and of course the instrument probably had multiple inventors.
The oboe is played with a double reed. This is one of the features it borrowed from the shawm, together with its conical bore, but on the other hand it also departed significantly from the older instrument, for example in the circumstance that the player places his lips directly on the reed with no intervening pirouette (a small cylindrical piece of wood which acted as a support for the lips). This new oboe quickly spread throughout Europe.
There are about nine other members in the oboe family, differing in size and timbre, such as the oboe d'amore and oboe da caccia, which both have a lower and warmer tone. We often find them in the pastoral movements of Bach's cantatas. Another member of the oboe family is the cor anglais ("English horn"), which is neither English nor a horn. It is an tenor hobo which was invented in Silesia around 1720, based on the oboe da caccia - it also found its way into the modern orchestra.
The oboe gradually developed further, gaining more keys - the modern oboe was developed in the 1860s by the French Triebert family. As the pitch of the oboe is not affected by temperature or humidity, and the instrument is easily audible over other instruments, symphony orchestras tend to tune to an A provided by the principal oboist.
The oboe was extremely popular in the Baroque period, when many concertos, sonatas and other works were written for the versatile instrument. The first oboe concertos were probably written by Albinoni in 1715, but these were quickly followed by concertos and sonatas by other Italian composers, such as Marcello and Vivaldi, and Germans as Telemann, or the Bohemian Zelenka. The 1720s saw a real explosion of oboe works, and the instrument remained popular for many decades, as is seen in the Classical works by Dittersdorf and Mozart.
But the oboe dropped out of sight during the Romantic period, when among the woodwinds the clarinet and flute with their essentially romantic timbre were more popular. (What there is from the 19th c., such as the small concerto by Bertini, or the pieces by Kalliwoda, is mostly salon music, which I skip.) Until I researched this post, I never realized that the oboe as solo instrument was totally eclipsed in the Romantic period...
Happily, the oboe has made a strong comeback in modern times - the large number of works written in for example England is striking (Bax, Vaughan Williams, Rawsthorne, Alwyn, Berkeley, Rubbra, Jacob, Holst, Moeran, etc) although these are all small-scale, intimate pieces, even the concertos. Somewhat larger-scale works were written by Richard Strauss, Wolf-Ferrari and the Dutchman Voormolen with his Concerto for Two Oboes. There is also an interesting body of modern instrumental and chamber music for the oboe.
[Oboe from the modern period]
1. Alessandro Ignazio Marcello, Concerto for Oboe in D minor [1716] Alessandro Marcello (1673-1747) was a versatile Venetian nobleman, philosopher, mathematician and musician, who also painted and dabbled in literature. As the son of a senator, he led the comfortable life of a dilettante in an imposing palazzo on the Canal Grande. In that residence, he organized weekly concerts, where also his own compositions were performed. The present oboe concerto is Alessandro Marcello's most famous work, one of his twelve Concerti a Cinque, published in Amsterdam in 1716 by Jeanne Roger. The fine work was so much appreciated by Bach that he adapted it for keyboard. It was for a long time wrongly attributed to Alessandro's brother, Benedetto Marcello, who was in fact a more prolific composer. The first movement is an andante called "spiccato," which points at a style of playing a bowed stringed instrument in which the bow bounces slightly off the strings - or in general, any music which is played in that manner. The adagio of the concerto seems to be popular at wedding ceremonies, and indeed the oboe sings in rather ecstatic tones. The final presto scurries along like a mass of excitedly babbling people. Recording listened to: Bruce Haynes, baroque oboe, with the Orchestra of the 18th Century directed by Frans Bruggen on Pro Arte. Authentic instruments and playing style. 2. Jan Dismas Zelenka, Sonata V in F major for Two Oboes with Obbligato Bassoon and Basso Continuo, ZWV 181 [1715-16] Zelenka (1679–1745) was the most important Czech baroque composer, admired for its harmonic inventiveness and counterpoint. He studied in Prague but spent most of life in Dresden, where he was employed in the court orchestra. Between 1715 and 1719 he was allowed to travel for study to Vienna and Venice. As musicians at the Dresden court were not allowed to have their music published, Zelenka was forgotten for 200 years - the modern rediscovery started in the 1950s, and now we tend to agree with the judgement of Bach and Telemann, who regarded Zelenka as one of the most important composers of their time. Instrumental music represents only a small part of Zelenka's output, as he mainly wrote large-scale sacred music. The present sonata for 2 oboes forms part of a group of six, which sets standards of overall high virtuosity. The sonatas are in Sonata di chiesa form, except the fifth one, which has three movements fast-slow-fast. In the fast movements, oboe and bassoon are employed in their most expressive and technical capabilities; the slow movement has a fittingly sweet melancholy. Recording listened to: Heinz Holliger and Maurice Bourgue, oboes, a.o., on Archiv (complete six trio sonatas for two oboes and obbligato bassoon)
3. Georg Philipp Telemann, Concerto in A major for Oboe d'Amore, Strings and Continuo TW 51:A2 [1717 or later] The German Baroque composer Georg Philipp Telemann (1681–1767) is one of the most prolific composers in musical history. Much of his huge output is still little known and only slowly being rediscovered. It is of surprisingly high quality and great variety. Telemann managed to write in several styles and he always was at the forefront of new musical tendencies. From 1721 to the end of his life he settled down in Hamburg, where he was musical director of the city's five main churches. Telemann wrote about one hundred instrumental concertos, mostly for wind instruments. His concertos are usually in four movements, slow-fast-slow-fast. The oboe d'amore used in this concerto is somewhat larger than the normal oboe and possesses a warmer tone; it is so to speak the mezzo-soprano of the oboe family, between the oboe (soprano) and the cor anglais (alto). Telemann wrote three concertos for this instrument. The first slow movement of the concerto in A major is a beautiful pastoral siciliano, and the melancholic third movement a chaconne for solo instrument and basso continuo, framed by the tutti. In the finale Telemann presents an interesting set of strophic variations. The oboe d'amore fell out of fashion at the end of the 18th c., which is to be regretted as its tranquil and warm tone make it rather special. Recording listened to: Heinz Holliger, Oboe d'amore, with Camerata Bern directed by Thomas Füri on Archiv Galleria (with oboe concertos by Graun and Krebs) 4. Antonio Vivaldi, Concerto for Oboe in A minor, RV 461 [1720s] The great Baroque composer Vivaldi (1678-1741) wrote more than 500 concertos; about 350 are for solo instrument and strings, of which again 230 for violin; the others are for cello and viola d'amore, or for wind instruments like the bassoon, oboe, flute, or recorder. About 40 concertos are double concertos for two instruments and 30 are for three or more instruments. Vivaldi wrote 15 concertos for the oboe, and RV 461 in A minor may well be the finest. It is a work on which Vivaldi seems to have lavished special care. The accompaniments to the solo sections are imaginatively conceived, employing a variety of scorings, and the thematic material of the solo sections is related in an effective way to that of the tutti sections. The concerto probably dates from the 1720s, Vivaldi's third and mature period, which was marked by high productivity. Recording listened to: David Reichenberg, oboe, with The English Concert directed by Trevor Pinnock on Archiv (with 5 other Vivalidi concertos under the general title "Alla Rustica"). Authentic instruments and playing style. 5. Tomaso Albinoni, Oboe Concerto in D minor, Op. 9, No. 2 [1722] Albinoni (1671-1751) was the first composer to publish oboe concertos: his Op. 7 of 1715 contains 8 concertos for single oboe, and 8 for two oboes. So he would have headed this list, were it not that I have selected one of his Opus 9 concertos, which were written in 1722. These later concertos are longer and more richly elaborated. Their greatest strength lies in the lyrical writing for the solo instrument. The adagio of op. 9, No. 2 is a long-breathed cantilena of the oboe set against an unchanging background of undulating violin semiquavers - infinitely more beautiful than the notorious and spurious "Adagio of Albinoni" (in reality composed by a 20th c. musicologist). Recording listened to: Anthony Robson, oboe, with the Collegium Musicum 90 conducted by Simon Standage on Chandos (with other oboe concertos by Albinoni). Authentic instruments and playing style. 6. Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, Oboe Concerto in E Flat Major, Wq 165 [1765] Carl Philipp Emanuel (1714-1788) was the second son of Johann Sebastian Bach. He studied law at universities in Leipzig and Frankfurt and in 1740 he became Court Harpsichordist at the court in Berlin of Frederick the Great, a position he would fulfill for almost thirty years. He was one of the best keyboard players of his time. In 1768 CPE Bach succeeded Telemann as Cantor in Hamburg, a position he would enjoy for the last twenty years of his life. CPE Bach was in the first place a keyboard virtuoso and his two oboe concertos were originally written as harpsichord concertos, before he reworked them for the oboe. The fast movements waver between the Late-Baroque and the Pre-Classical period. The first movement of the concerto in E flat major possesses an energetic rhythm that evokes the French style. The slow movement is the musical center of gravity - it is a grandiose funeral threnody. The last movement is characterized by CPE Bach's characteristic chromatic style. Recording listened to: Ku Ebbinge, oboe, with The Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra conducted by Ton Koopman on Erato (with oboe concerto in B flat major, sonata in G minor). Authentic instruments and playing style. 7. August Karl Ditters von Dittersdorf, Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra in G major [1765-69] The Austrian composer Dittersdorf (1739–1799) was born and educated in Vienna, where he also played as violinist in the orchestra of the Burgtheater. From 1765 to 1769 he worked for the Prince-Archbishop's court in Grosswardein in Hungary, as successor of Michael Haydn. After that, Dittersdorf became Kapellmeister in Johannisberg. But despite his faraway posts, he kept in contact with Vienna, where many of his larger works were premiered. Dittersdorf produced fifty operas, four oratorios, masses, more than a hundred symphonies, a variety of concertos and chamber music. Revered by church and aristocracy, the career of Dittersdorf in its heyday even overshadowed that of Haydn and Mozart, but at the end of his life he was already largely forgotten. That is difficult to understand when you hear his music now, he certainly must rank as one of the most important representatives of Viennese Classicism. Dittersdorf composed six oboe concertos (one of which is for oboe d'amore). The concerto in G major stands with both legs in the golden age of Viennese Classicism, an elegant work that deserves to be heard. Recording listened to: Heinz Holliger, oboe, with Camerata Bern conducted by Thomas Füri on Archiv (with other concertos and symphonies by "the early Vienna School"). Also available on Hungaroton (complete oboe concertos by Dittersdorf). 8. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Oboe Concerto in C major, K314 [1777] This concerto is better known in its version for flute (in D), but the oboe version that was discovered in 1920 in the Salzburg Mozarteum is the original one. Mozart wrote the concerto for the North-Italian oboe virtuoso Giuseppe Ferlendis, but it was also frequently played by the superb Mannheim oboist Friedrich Ramm. (Mozart made the flute version as he had a commission from the Dutch flutist Ferdinand De Jean, and through time pressure only managed to write one original flute concerto.) Despite the warm response the concerto received in Mozart's day, the oboe score later sank into oblivion. The first movement has witty repartees as in an opera; the slow movement is a straightforward aria for the oboe against a lovely cantilena in the strings; and the finale is a cheerful rondo on a theme Mozart liked well enough to use again, for the aria "Welche wonne, welche Lust" from Die Entführung aus dem Serail. The reason this concerto in the first place came down to us as a flute concerto is the above mentioned circumstance that in the Romantic period, oboe concertos were unfortunately "out." Mozart also wrote an oboe quartet (K 370). Recording listened to: Michel Piguet, oboe, with The Academy of Ancient Music, directed by Christopher Hogwood on L'Oiseau-Lyre. Authentic instruments and playing style. 9. François Devienne, Oboe Sonata in C Op. 71 No. 3 [1799] Born as the 14th child of a saddle maker, Devienne (1759 – 1803) was a French composer and professor for flute at the Paris Conservatory. He gained a European reputation as prodigious composer in various genres and for all manner of combinations. His music is characterized by classical grace and melodic originality. Devienne published 12 sonatas for oboe and basso continuo (Op. 70 and 71), probably in 1799. All works are in three movements. The oboe is dominant, the bass part has been relegated to a minor role. So compared with the duo sonatas of Mozart, formally these works are somewhat backward looking (but that is nothing strange - also Haydn's piano trios of the 1790s are "backward looking"). And the vivacity of the music makes everything good. The sonata in C Op. 71.3 starts with an allegro in sonata form; the second movement is an expressive aria; and the finale is a graceful sets of variations getting increasingly more virtuoso. Recording listened to: Burkhard Glaetzner, oboe, with Christine Schornsheim, pianoforte, and Siegfried Pank, cello, on Brilliant Classics (with three more oboe sonatas by Devienne). Authentic instruments and playing style.
[Classical oboe]
10. Arnold Bax, Quintet for Oboe and String Quartet [1922] The English composer Arnold Bax (1883 – 1953) blended elements of romanticism and impressionism in his music, often with influences from Celtic or Irish literature and landscape. His scores are noted for their complexity and colorfulness. The Oboe Quintet was written just after Bax completed his First Symphony and is quintessential Bax in his Irish style. The mood of the rhapsodic first movement is predominantly dark. The slow movement is an atmospheric lento, starting with a long introduction in which the strings alone play a gorgeous tune. In the finale the composer brushes aside his somber mood and introduces a wild Irish dance, on a tune of Bax's own invention. The texture of the quartet is very rich, so it not surprising that it was later orchestrated by Sir John Barbirolli as a Concerto for Oboe. Recording listened to: Sarah Francis, oboe, with the English String Quartet on Chandos (with oboe quartets by Holst, Jacob and Moeran) 11. Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, Idillo - Concertino in A major for Oboe and Small Orchestra [1932] With a German father and Italian mother, Wolf-Ferrari (1876-1948) grew up in two cultures, as symbolized by his name in which he combined those of both parents. He was born in Venice and is buried there, but he lived much of his life in Munich and Salzburg. In the first place active as opera composer, he was most popular in the years before the Great War. Wolf-Ferrari also wrote a number of lyrical orchestral works, among which concertos for oboe and for cor anglais. The oboe concerto is written in a warm, late-Romantic style, but the structure is neo-classical. The concerto is in four movements: the fast movements sparkle, while the adagio is the emotional center of the work. Unbelievable that such a delightful work can be forgotten... Recording listened to: Andrea Tenaglia, oboe, with the Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma directed by Franceso La Vecchia on Naxos (with concertos for cor anglais and bassoon) 12. Alexander Voormolen, Concerto for Two Oboes and Orchestra [1933] The Dutch composer Alexander Voormolen (1895-1980) studied composition with Johan Wagenaar in Utrecht. In 1916 he went to Paris where he studied with Albert Roussel and also became acquainted with Ravel, who supported him. Voormolen was a Francophile and his music stands in the French rather than in the German tradition. Later on, Voormolen searched for a true Dutch musical style, as in his large piano work Tableaux des Pays-Bas and the Baron Hop Suites. From 1923 Voormolen settled in The Hague, where he became librarian of the Royal Conservatory. He also was music reviewer for an important Dutch newspaper. The present double concerto was written for the Dutch oboist Jaap Stotijn and his son Haakon, who premiered the work in 1935 in The Hague. The score is very virtuoso and full of spirit and also humor. There are hints at popular dance, while the concerto is broadly neo-classical. The slow movement is a beautiful arioso. The concerto was very popular in its time, and indeed, it is one of the best 20th c. oboe concertos I know. Recording listened to: Pauline Oostenrijk and Hans Roerade, oboes, with the Residentie Orchestra The Hague conducted by Matthias Bamert on Chandos (with Voormolen's Baron Hop Suites 1& 2) 13. Ralph Vaughan Williams, Concerto in A minor for Oboe and Strings [1944] Vaughan Williams (1872 – 1958) was an English composer who worked in a great variety of genres, including film music - his interesting double name without a hyphen is of Welsh origin. Vaughan Williams studied at the Royal College of Music with Stanford and later Parry. Here he also befriended fellow-student Gustav Holst. Vaughan Williams early on became interested in folk song, which he collected. As a central figure in British music he wrote 9 symphonies, several large oratorios, and concerts not only for the piano, but also for rarely used solo instruments as the tuba. His oboe concerto was written for soloist Léon Goossens in 1944. It is a typically English pastoral piece and is divided into three movements: a lightweight first movement, rondo pastorale, then a short minuet and musette, and a scherzo which is the longest and weightiest movement, although it ends on a wistful note. The entire concerto is suffused with a gentle melancholy. Recording listened to: David Theodore, oboe, with The London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Bryden Thomson on Chandos (with 3rd symphony)
14. Richard Strauss, Concerto for Oboe and Small Orchestra in D major [1945] The late-Romantic German composer Richard Strauss (1864 – 1949) was in the first place known for his operas, his songs and his tone poems. He was a subtle orchestrator, who wrote in an advanced harmonic style. His output of concertante works was also fairly extensive. The most famous of these are the two concertos for horn, a violin concerto, a burleske for piano and orchestra, a duet concertino for bassoon and clarinet, and an oboe concerto. The Oboe Concerto in D was written towards the end of Strauss' life, during a period often called "his Indian summer" - he was over 80 years old when he wrote it! The oboe concerto is a neo-classical work with clear thematic analogies to 18th c. music - although typical Straussian harmonies are not absent. The concerto is in four movements and full if wit. Among the ruins of WWII, Mozart and Viennese Classicism must have appeared like a bright light in the surrounding darkness. Recording listened to: Martin Gabriel, Oboe, with the Wiener Philharmoniker, directed by Andre Previn, on Deutsche Grammophon
15. Alan Rawsthorne, Concerto for Oboe and Strings [1947] Rawsthorne (1905 - 1971) graduated from The Royal Manchester College of Music, and after first working as a pianist, from the 1930s he followed a career as freelance composer. Rawsthorne possesses a highly distinctive musical voice. He wrote an impressive number of symphonic works, nine concertos, and a large body of chamber music. His oboe concerto was dedicated to Evelyn Rothwell, the wife of Sir John Barbirolli. The first movement, with its slow and majestic opening, is modeled on the style of the French overture from the Baroque period. There is an animated middle section, before the opening is restated in a plaintive way. The middle movement is an allegretto, with a sad but tender tone - an introspective piece of music. The last movement is a vivace that with figures based on the jig and the tarantella dances towards its close. Recording listened to: Stephane Rancourt, oboe, with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra conducted by David Lloyd-Jones on Naxos (with cello concerto and Symphonic Studies)
16. Francis Poulenc, Sonata for Oboe and Piano, Op. 185 [1962] The French composer Poulenc (1899 – 1963) was a member of the group Les Six (with Honegger, Milhaud and others). His music, which covers all genres and is always tonal, can be mischievous and witty, but also serenely mystical. At the end of his life Poulenc wrote three sonatas for wind instruments. The sonata for oboe and piano dates from 1962 and is dedicated to the memory of Sergei Prokofiev. It is a sad and lonely work, a sort of valediction. The three movements are called Elégie, Scherzo and Déploration, a slow-fast-slow scheme. In the last movement, to express his mournful feelings, Poulenc uses the extremes of the oboe. It was also the last piece Poulenc wrote before his death early the next year. The sonata was performed posthumously in 1963, with Pierre Pierlot as oboist. Recording listened to: Maurice Bourgue, oboe, and Pascal Roge, piano, on Decca (with the sonatas for flute and clarinet as well as the trio and sextet)
There are still several traditional towns in Japan where modernization ("concrete-ization") has been less rampant than in the larger cities. Here are a few of my favorites in Western Japan (Okayama and Hiroshima Prefectures): Bitchu-Takahashi, Tomonoura, and Onomichi. Although I give suggestions for visits to temples and small museums in these towns, in the first place they are all just nice for a relaxed stroll through narrow lanes with old houses...
[Takahashi - Raikyuji's Garden]
1. Bitchu-Takahashi The tiny former castle town of Takahashi stretches north to south along the Takahashi River. Lying in a mountainous region of great scenic beauty, it has a thriving merchant district of Edo-era buildings near the river and a well-preserved section of samurai homes, still occupied by the descendants of that martial class. Takahashi also features several interesting temples, of which Shorenji and Yakushi-en stand on high stone platforms. The place to visit is, however, Raikyuji, which boasts a fine garden laid out by Kobori Enshu. The samurai houses stand in the Ishibayacho district, just beyond Raikyuji. The castle was built in 1683 and sitting at 420 meters above sea level, is the highest castle in Japan. There is a great view of the surrounding hills from the castle hill (but it is a pain to get there, so you may opt to observe the castle hill from the town!) P.S. "Bitchu" is the name of this region in Okayama; it is added to the name of the town because there are more towns of the name "Takahashi" in Japan.
Places to visit are:
The Zen-temple Raikyuji. The renowned garden designer and tea master Kobori Enshu (1579-1647) served as governor of Takahashi, and at that time lived in Raikyuji. He designed the present garden in 1604. The shakkei garden is characterized by a bold, wavelike hedge and in its daring design can stand comparison with the best gardens in Kyoto.
Shorenji. This Nichiren temple is noted for its stone-walled terraces, which create an unusual effect.
Ishibaiyacho district with samurai houses. Two samurai residences (the Haibara Samurai Residence and the Orii Samurai Residence) are open to the public.
In the merchant quarter near the river, one merchant residence can be visited: the Ikegami Merchant House, a soy sauce producer.
There are two small museums in town, the Takahashi Folk Museum (in an atmospheric building) and the Takahashi Historical Museum.
Bitchu-Matsuyama-jo. The highest mountain fortress in Japan. It retains the features of a medieval mountain fortress, although the present keep is more modern, from 1683. The castle is little visited as it stands a 20 min taxi ride outside the town. Climbing the hill takes another 15 min.
Bitchu-Takahashi is 36 min by Yakumo Express from Okayama City, or 55 min by ordinary train via the Hakubi Line.
P.S. Fukiya, deeper into the mountains, is a copper mining town with old rust-colored houses, but as it is an hour by infrequent bus from Bitchu-Takahashi, it is rather difficult to get to by public transport.
[Tomo no Ura]
2. Tomonoura A little gem of a fisher's village with superb views over the Inland Sea, and an interesting place to stroll through the winding, narrow streets. Located on the southern point of the Nunakuma Peninsula, Tomonoura has been a famous scenic spot since the Nara period, when it was eulogized in the Manyoshu poetry collection. It was always a center for Inland Sea trade and many travellers passed through the town - the most important are the Korean embassies which came to Japan in the Edo-period (it was usual for travelers from Kyushu to Edo to travel through the Inland Sea by boat, before landing in Muronotsu in Hyogo Pref. and then - after visiting Osaka and Kyoto - hitting the Tokaido Highway). They would lodge in the Taichoro Pavilion of Fukuzenji Temple from which they could enjoy the view of three small islands in the bay, one adorned with a red pagoda. This Chinese-style landscape would be perfectly framed in the windows of their lodgings. Another visitor to Tomonoura was koto-composer Miyagi Michio (1894–1956), who was here inspired to write his masterwork, "Haru no Umi," or "The Spring Sea." In addition, anime-director Miyazaki Hayao developed his idea for the film Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea (2008) while staying in Tomonoura. Note: Tomonoura is in some danger of having its scenery spoiled by "development," such as a large bridge which may cut right through the small port town. See this article by WMF (the World Monuments Fund).
Places to visit are:
Fukuzenji and Taichoro (Wave-facing Pavilion), the temple with pavilion where the Korean Embassies lodged, just next to the modern ferry landing. There are several memorabilia from these embassies on view, such as a calligraphy dated 1711 praising the view.
The Old Town with rows of fine old houses plus a distillery that makes Homeishu, a traditional medicinal liqueur.
The Temple and Shrine quarter in the north-east part of the town. The most interesting temple is Ankokuji, which has a 13th c. Shaka Hall which is said to be one of the oldest Zen-style halls in Japan; the temple also has an interesting wooden Amida Triad; the NunakumaShrine - though itself concrete - has an early 17th c. Noh stage (presumably from Hideyoshi's Fushimi Castle in Kyoto).
Tomonoura Museum of History and Folklore. Local history and folklore museum. Includes a display of tai-ami, the fishing for sea bream (tai) which takes place in May with one large net pulled by a number of small boats. Other displays include a blacksmith's workshop for anchor making, and a koto used by Miyagi Michio.
Tomonoura is 35 min by Tomotetsu bus from Fukuyama Station on the Shinkansen and Sanyo lines.
3. Onomichi Onomichi is a port town on the inland sea, a traditional shipping center. For non-Japanese it is famous thanks to the iconic images at the beginning and end of Ozu Yasujiro's Tokyo Story, where it is the hometown of the elderly couple. It does not lie on the open sea, but across a channel we find the aptly name Mukai ("opposite") Island, now linked via a bridge. Onomichi lies on a steep hillside, crisscrossed by a warren of narrow slopes. The hills are studded with temples and there are also a few interesting small museums, as well as many literature monuments and film shooting spots. There is also a suitably old-fashioned Shotengai (arcaded shopping street). Onomichi is a starting point for trips to islands in the Inland Sea, either by bus via the new bridge system (Shimanami Kaido) or, as of old, by boat.
Places to visit are:
Jodoji Temple, at the eastern end of the town. The temple boasts a Main hall and a Tahoto Pagoda which are both national treasures. Visitors can also view a tea house that purportedly came from Hideyoshi's Fushimi Castle in Kyoto, and an interesting treasure house. Jodoji is a good starting point for a walk along the other temples, as Tenneiji (three-storied pagoda) and Saikokuji (with its gigantic straw sandals). Take a 5-min bus or taxi to Jodoji, and then walk back in a western direction towards the station and the hill with Senkoji.
Senkoji Temple can be reached by ropeway and is a sort of tourist trap, but the good thing is the view over the Inland sea from the temple, which is justly celebrated (and you can hike up the hill instead of using the ropeway). There is also a "literature walk" on the hill along stones on which haiku and other works have been carved (but you need some Japanese ability to appreciate this).
Onomichi has a Shinkansen Station, but that lies rather far from the city center. Coming from the east, it is easier to take an ordinary train on the JR Sanyo Line from Fukuyama - this takes only 18 min.
When one listens often to classical music, there soon comes a time that one wants to look beyond the fixed programming of the few hundred core works that are played ad nauseam at concerts around the world. (Some people think that is all there is and are surprised when told that in reality we have hundreds of thousands of classical works). On top of that, if you possess the quality of curiosity, you will want to know more about those unknown composers whose names so tantalizingly pop up now and then. In other words, you become anxious to hear music by unknown composers... Happily, the CD (although now on its way out - I am not sure we will get anything better back in the sense of introducing little or never played works) has done a great job in reviving unknown composers - mainly thanks to the many small labels that have made fascinating voyages of discovery and exhumed unjustly forgotten music from an too early grave in dusty libraries.
Below follows a selection of some fascinating 19th century symphonies by so-called "unknown" composers - all works that deserve to be better known!
1. Ferdinand Ries, Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Op. 112 [1813] Ries was Beethoven's favorite disciple. Good disciples start (but don't end) by copying the Master, and that is what Ries has done here in his 5th symphony. Ferdinand Ries (1784-1838) was born in a musical family in Bonn, the same city where his teacher hailed from. He was a pianist and composer who left eight symphonies, a violin concerto, eight piano concertos and numerous chamber works, including 26 string quartets. His style is that of the early Beethoven, hovering between the Classical and Romantic eras. Ries made his pianistic debut in 1804 with the 3rd Beethoven concerto. He also worked as secretary and copyist for Beethoven. In 1813 he moved to England, where he would remain for eleven years. Later Ries settled in Frankfurt am Main as composer and conductor. The 5th symphony was written in London in 1813. Although his symphony is in D Minor rather than C minor, in the first movement Ries uses the rhythm of Beethoven's famous "Fate" motif with different pitches - when this symphony starts you almost sit up and think "What? Another Beethoven Fifth?" But this is neither an act of "copying" nor a "parody," but rather a conscious homage to the Master. The hammering Fate motif dominates the entire first movement, although it is rather less ominous than in Beethoven's Fifth. Ries also uses some typical Beethovenesque harmonies. The second movement is a subtle Larghetto, with a plaintive melody echoing through the orchestra. In the third movement we find a forceful Scherzo with a dance-like trio and the stormy finale, playing with the typical rhythm of the Fate motif, leads to a triumphant conclusion. Ries has written an excellent symphony that certainly deserves to be performed more often. This is the "normal level" of art music in the 19th century - listening to this music we realise all the more how exceptional a genius like Beethoven was. P.S. Ries also wrote interesting piano concertos and chamber music - the concertos have been recorded by Naxos. Recording listened to: Zürcher Kammerorchester directed by Howard Griffiths on CPO (with 3rd Symphony)
2. Johann Wilhelm Wilms, Symphony No. 6 in D minor, Op. 58 [1820] Dutch classical music is so little known (even less than that of other small countries, like Denmark), that some people even may wonder whether it at all exists. This situation has been caused by the fact that Dutch orchestras almost never perform their own country's music - which is a shame (happily, the CD below is an exception). Here is an early 19th c. Dutch symphony, although written by a composer born in neighboring Germany. Johann Wilhelm Wilms (1772-1847) was a contemporary of Beethoven and although he was born in Germany, he spent all his creative life in Holland, working in Amsterdam where he moved in 1791. Wilms was mostly active as a composer between 1810 and 1820. In 1815 he won the contest to write the national anthem for the new Kingdom of the Netherlands ("Wien Neerlandsch Bloed," discarded in 1932 for the present "Wilhelmus"). His last position was that of organist at the United Baptist Church in Amsterdam. The symphony in D Op 58 was written in 1819 and is decidedly early Romantic. You will be surprised at the ebullience and drive of the music. Wilms' music is skilfully written, with an abundance of attractive and distinctive melodies. The symphony was published in 1823 by Breitkopf und Härtel in Leipzig - it was the crown on Wilms' work as a symphonist. This well-crafted symphony again poses the question (which is not really a question): shouldn't orchestras be looking for more good pieces to play - like this symphony - instead of continuing to sleepwalk through only a few famous ones?
Recording listened to: Netherlands Radio Chamber Orchestra, directed by Anthony Halstead on Brilliant Classics (with symphonies Opp. 23, 14 and 52; symphonies 6 and 7 have also been recorded by Concerto Köln on Deutsche Grammophon)
Sinfonia Rotterdam
Conductor: Conrad van Alphen
3. Georges Onslow, Symphony No. 2 in D minor, Op. 42 [1832]
Despite the English name, Georges Onslow (1784-1853) was a French composer, a contemporary of Ries and Spohr. His father was an English nobleman who had been kicked out of Parliament because of a gay affair, fled to France, where he settled down and married a rich heiress. Their first son, Georges, came of age in the shadow of Beethoven. He studied with Dussek, Cramer and Reicha and lived in the Auvergne (on his family estate) and Paris. Onslow composed in the first place a prodigious amount of chamber music, among which 36 string quartets and 34 string quintets. He also wrote four symphonies. Onslow never was a popular composer, living as he did in opera-crazy France, where orchestral and instrumental composers were automatically considered as of second rank (unless one was a showman like Berlioz). In the last decades, his chamber music and symphonies have been revived on CD. He is an important figure of the early Romantic period, classical in form but romantic in feeling. His works are full of spirit and expression and deserve to be heard more often. The second symphony was dedicated to the London Philharmonic Society. It is a finely crafted piece of music that adopts the German romantic style.
Recording listened to: Radio-Philharmonie Hannover des NDR, directed by Johannes Goritzki on CPO (with Onslow's fourth symphony; the other two symphonies have also been recorded on CPO)
Mikko Franck dirige l'Orchestre philharmonique de Radio France
4. Louis Spohr, Symphony No. 4 in F major Op. 86 "Die Weihe der Töne" [1842] One does not often speak about a "Biedermeier-period" when talking about musical history, but that is because most people only look at the great composers like Schubert or Schumann, who indeed don't fit that label. The Biedermeier-period was a conservative era between the end of the Napoleonic wars in 1815 and the popular revolutions that woke up Europe in 1848. The period was autocratic, politics was a forbidden topic, so art concentrated itself on the domestic life of the new middle class - lots of "home music" was produced. But more than that, there is a clear Biedermeier period-style also in music: the keyword is Gemütlichkeit, which means a cheerful mood, peace of mind, with the connotation of belonging and social acceptance, coziness and being unhurried. "Happiness within restrictions," one could also call it. There are several true Biedermeier composers, but the most characteristic one is in my view Louis Spohr (1784-1859), a composer who in his own time was regarded as one of the most significant personalities in German music, equally outstanding as a composer, violinist and conductor. Spohr wrote voluminously in all genres. But a few decades after his death, he was completely forgotten, until a small renaissance set in since the 1980s. Among Spohr's works that have gained new esteem are his four clarinet concertos; one or two of his eighteen violin concertos; and especially his chamber music: the octet and the nonet, the music for harp and the four double quartets for two string quartets, to name a few. Spohr also composed nine published symphonies between 1811 and 1850, which were in his own time ranked with the great compositions of Mozart and Beethoven and which remained popular with concertgoers until the late 19th c. - after which they were completely forgotten. The symphonies have been recorded on Marco Polo, Orfeo, CPO and - a complete series - on Hyperion. They are the summum of the Biedermeier style, pleasant and melodious, but always remaining within bounds, in contrast to for example Berwald's "Sinfonie Singulière" (see below). A good example is the fourth symphony, the most epic of Spohr's ten symphonies. The literary source for this work was a volume of poems by Carl Pfeiffer, Die Weihe der Töne (The Consecration of Sound). The first movement opens with a slow introduction, illustrating the silence before the creation of sound. In the sonata-form Allegro that follows, sound is born in the gentle sighing of the wind and the calls of birds. The main theme of the Allegro shows the activity of life itself. The development section brings a storm on stage, after which nature and life return to their normal pace. The slow second movement illustrates the functions of music, as lullaby, dance, and lover's serenade. In the coda all three are expertly combined. The third movement shows us another role of music: as inspiration to courage in a military march; the trio section depicts the anxiety of family and friends back home when the boys are fighting. The movement ends with a song of thanksgiving, called "Ambrosian Ode." The final movement, a Larghetto-Allegretto, is funeral music: the dead (not only those of the war from the previous movement, but more in general) are buried under the sound of a gravely beautiful chorale, and the symphony ends with a gentle consolation. The symphony was enormously successful, not only in Germany but also in England, where Spohr went to conduct it. Recording listened to: Budapest Symphony Orchestra directed by Alfred Walter on Marco Polo (with overtures to Faust and Jessonda)
5. Niels Gade, Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 5 [1841-42] Niels Gade (1817-1890) is the first Danish symphonic composer of any real significance. He was born as the son of an instrument maker and studied in Leipzig on a scholarship from the Danish government. Later he taught at the Conservatory in Leipzig and worked as assistant conductor of the Gewandhaus Orchestra. He also became friends with Mendelssohn, who had a profound influence on his music. In 1848 he returned to Copenhagen where he became director of the Copenhagen Musical Society, a post he retained until his death. He was the teacher of Grieg and Nielsen. Gade composed eight symphonies throughout his career. His First Symphony was the most popular, probably thanks to its youthful vigour and exuberance - it was written when Gade was only 25. Gade submitted the work to the Copenhagen Musical Society for performance but the work was turned down, which was in fact a stroke of good luck, for Gade now approached Felix Mendelssohn at the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Mendelssohn received the work positively and conducted it in Leipzig in March 1843, to great acclaim. The main theme of the first movement is based on an earlier song by Gade, "Paa Sjølunds fagre Sletter" ("On the beautiful plains of Sjölund"). This simple, almost folk-like opening phrase forms the basis of many other themes and motifs in the symphony. The theme returns in the finale, where in true romantic manner it is led to victory in the coda in a blazing C major. There is not a dull moment in this masterful symphony. Recording listened to: The Stockholm Sinfonietta directed by Neeme Järvi on BIS (a full cycle of all eight symphonies. Another excellent complete cycle is the one by Hogwood on Chandos)
6. Franz Berwald, Symphony No. 3 in C major "Sinfonie Singulière" [1845] The Swedish composer Franz Berwald (1796-1868) came from a musical family and from a young age appeared as a violinist in concerts. In 1829 the Swedish King gave him a scholarship to study in Berlin. In 1841 he moved to Vienna where he composed his four symphonies. Berwald's music was not appreciated in Sweden during his lifetime, and only fared a little better in Germany and Austria. In 1835, in Berlin, he had started an orthopedic and physiotherapy clinic to make both ends meet and on his return to Sweden in 1849, he had to work as the manager of a glass works. Berwald now focused his attention on producing chamber music. In 1867, Berwald finally became professor of musical composition at the Stockholm Conservatory, but he died the following year. The Sinfonie singulière is often regarded as Berwalds best symphony, but the composer never heard it - it was not premiered until 37 years after the death of the composer, in 1905. The work has an energy and imagination that surpass most music of its time. The opening movement is indeed "singular" and unusual, sometimes touching on the bizarre, but with a fresh sensibility. The scoring has been called "luminous," like the quality of the light found in northern Europe. An interesting structural characteristic is that the slow movement encloses the scherzo within it. The finale has tremendous fire and a spirited main theme. Recording listened to: Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra directed by Neeme Järvi on Deutsche Grammophon (all four symphonies by Berwald)
7. Anton Rubinstein, Symphony No. 2 in C major, Op. 42 "Ocean" (1851, revised 1863, 1880) Rubinstein (1829-1894) was in first place famous as one of the foremost 19th century keyboard virtuosos (no, he was no family of the 20th c. Polish-American pianist Arthur Rubinstein) - he was known for his gigantic recitals which he gave throughout Europe and also in the United States. But Rubinstein was also a conductor and teacher, the founder of the Saint Petersburg Conservatory and the composition teacher of Tchaikovsky. And on top of that, Rubinstein was a prolific composer, who wrote 20 operas, five piano concertos, six symphonies and a large number of solo piano works, songs and works for chamber ensemble. Because of his international style, he was satirically called not a "Russian composer," but a "Russian who composes." Rubinstein studied in Germany and was strongly influenced by Mendelssohn, something which nationalistic Russians couldn't stomach - his position was comparable to that of Turgenev in literature. Another reason for the general prejudice against his music was anti-Semitism. In fact, Rubinstein was a very able composer of much that is still good - the only thing you have to do, before starting to listen, is remove the idea that you are going to hear something Russian. The style is that of - for example - Spohr and Gade, in the first place inspired by Mendelssohn. The Ocean Symphony is unusual in that it contains seven movements, the result of various revisions over a period of almost 30 years. Rubinstein paints a vivid musical scene of the sea, full of mood and atmosphere. The light and atmospheric first movement (moderato assai) has been beautifully crafted, with a clarity of form and texture that Mendelssohn indeed would have appreciated. The second movement (lento assai) is more contemplative, filled with an almost sinister foreboding. The next andante conjures up a pastoral seascape, with the celli depicting a soft current. A scherzo-like allegro follows, and then a moving andante with a romantic theme. Next we again have a scherzo, perhaps for the inevitable sailor's dance, and the symphony closes with an andante, a long movement that after many meanderings reaches a safe haven. Recording listened to: Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra, Bratislava, directed by Stephen Gunzenhauser on Marco Polo
8. Charles-François Gounod, Symphony No. 1 in D major [1855] Gounod (1818-1893) was of course the French opera composer par excellence, famous for his Faust and twelve other operas, as well as an avalanche of religious music - everybody knows his Ave Maria. Gounod would not fit on my list, if he had not also written three symphonies, which are singularly unknown. The first one is the freshest (although the third one, for wind orchestra, is also very interesting). It was only rediscovered in the 1950s. What also became clear then was that Bizet had modeled his (today more famous) symphony closely on his teacher Gounod's Symphony No. 1- there are many rhythmic and melodic similarities. Another case of the disciple imitating his master! Gounod's First is a bright and witty symphony, that stands aside from its period - there is nothing romantic about it, it is rather a neo-classical symphony avant-la-date. But that doesn't change the fact that it is also hugely enjoyable. Recording listened to: Orchestre de Capitole de Toulouse directed by Michel Plasson on EMI Classic (with 2nd symphony)
Orquesta Sinfónica Sinaloa de las Artes (OSSLA) Miguel Salmon Del Real, conductor
9. Johan Severin Svendsen, Symphony No. 1 in D major, op. 4 [1866] The Norwegian composer, conductor and violinist Svendsen (1840-1911) was born in Christiania (now Oslo) but spent most of his life in Copenhagen, Denmark. He studied in Leipzig with Carl Reinecke. His most famous work during his lifetime was his Romance for Violin and Orchestra. He was very popular in Denmark and Norway, but never entered the international repertory. Besides excellent chamber music, Svendsen wrote two symphonies (a third one was according to an anecdote that may not be wholly reliable, thrown into the fire by Svendsen's wife during a conjugal quarrel). The first one was completed while Svendsen was still studying in Leipzig. Again a famous anecdote has come down to us: Svendsen had been very successful with his Octet for Strings, which made Reinecke obviously somewhat jealous, so he remarked cynically: "I guess the next thing will be a symphony!" A week later, Svendsen dropped the present work on his astonished teacher's desk (no, he had not written it is just one week, we know that he had been busy on it from the previous year). The First Symphony is a work of great assurance and freshness, in the traditional four movements. The opening movement with its rather pithy themes is a textbook sonata-allegro, working towards a neat climax. The andante is the longest movement, but thanks to its strongly felt melody, returning in various guises, it effortlessly sustains its length. The scherzo sounds like a Norwegian peasant dance and the finale blasts the symphony towards a triumphant ending. A most charming and youthful work. Recording listened to: Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Mariss Jansons on EMI (with Svendsen's 2nd symphony)
10. Joachim Raff, Symphony No. 3 in F major, Op. 153 "Im Walde" [1869] How radically reputations can change is vividly illustrated by the case of Raff (1822-1882). Regarded in his lifetime by colleagues, critics and audiences alike as one of the foremost composers of the romantic era, a musician of world renown, after his death Raff was almost immediately forgotten. He was among the most performed of living composers, not only in concert halls but also in homes, but after 1882 only his trifling Cavatina remained popular... This is now slowly changing again, as many of his works have been recorded on CD. Although in some instances technical virtuosity takes the place of inspiration, generally speaking Raff deserves to be reinstated to the place he occupied in his own time. Raff was born in Switzerland and was largely self-taught in music. In 1844 his piano compositions were recommended by Mendelssohn to Breitkopf & Härtel, and this publication was next favorably reviewed by Schumann. From 1850 to 1853 Raff worked as amanuensis of Liszt, assisting in the orchestration of several of Liszt's works. In 1856 Raff moved to Wiesbaden and started to devote himself mainly to composition. In 1878 he became the first Director of the prestigious Conservatory in Frankfurt. By his teaching and his innovations Raff influenced composers as diverse as Mahler, Richard Strauss and Tchaikovsky. Raff wrote eleven numbered symphonies, in which he often combined the classical symphonic form with the Romantic penchant for program music on the one hand, and contrapuntal writing harking back to the Baroque, on the other. Many of his symphonies carry descriptive titles, often connected with nature or the seasons. The third symphony of 1869 consolidated Raff's fame - in Raff's time it was hailed as a masterpiece, and indeed it boasts inventive orchestration and abundance of melody. Each of the four movements has a descriptive subtitle. The joyful opening allegro is called "Daytime. Impressions and feelings," and depicts the feeling of liberation during a walk in the forest. Bird song fragments are interspersed with horn calls. After a powerful development, the movement ends on a tranquil note. The second and third movements have been linked together. The serene Brahmsian largo is called "At twilight - Dreaming," and is notable for its clarinet obbligato and expansive string melody. The mercurial scherzo is called "Dance of the Nyads" and has a close affinity to the Mendelssohn of the Midsummer Night's Dream. The finale is called "Night....still murmurings.....the wild hunt of Hulda & Wotan......sunrise." After first depicting the sleeping forest with a canonic figure in the lower strings, the frenzied sounds of a wild hunt take over. But after the vehemence dies down, the first light of dawn penetrates the forest, and the opening figure is transformed into a hymn of thanksgiving for the passing of the night. There is an excellent website dedicated to the music of Raff. Recording listened to: The Philharmonia conducted by Francesco D'Avalon on ASV
11. Richard Hol, Symphony No. 3 in B flat major op. 101 [1884] To restore the balance somewhat (Dutch classical music is one big black hole, thanks to the disinterest of the Dutch in their own musical culture) here is another Dutch symphony, by a composer who is even less known than than the previously discussed Wilms. Richard Hol (1825 – 1904) was a Dutch composer and conductor, born and educated in Amsterdam, but mainly active in the central Dutch city of Utrecht, where from 1875 he served as director of the Stedelijke Muziekschool. His most prominent pupil was Johan Wagenaar. The third symphony by Hol was dedicated to Anton Rubinstein - in 1867 Hol had conducted Rubinstein's Ocean Symphony (see above) and he may also have met the composer during the latter's Dutch tour a year later. Although basically a conservative composer in the German tradition, Hol's instrumentation and harmony here are relatively daring. The Mendelssohnian scherzo is enchanting and fairylike. Even more accomplished is the intimate Night Music of the slow movement. The suitably exuberant finale quotes material from the opening allegro, to make the circle round. This certainly is an interesting symphony that deserves to be heard. Recording listened to: Residentie Orchestra The Hague conducted by Matthias Bamert on Chandos (with Hol's 1st Symphony - both premiere recordings; Chandos has recorded all four symphonies by Hol)
12. Charles Villiers Stanford, Symphony No. 3 in F minor, Op. 28 "Irish" [1887] The English have done much more for their musical heritage than the previously mentioned Dutch, and although British 19th century music (everything before Elgar) was also forgotten in the 20th c., the situation now has completely changed. All relevant composers have been recorded, often several times. One of these is the Irish composer, music teacher, and conductor Sir Charles Villiers Stanford (1852 – 1924). Stanford came from a well-to-do and musical family in Dublin and was educated at Cambridge, and later also in Leipzig and Berlin. He was organist of Trinity College, Cambridge, and became one of the founding professors of the Royal College of Music, where he taught for the rest of his life. Among his pupils were Gustav Holst and Ralph Vaughan Williams. Stanford had a great success with his music in the last two decades of the 19th c., before being eclipsed by Elgar and modernism. He was in the first place famous for his choral music, but he also composed seven symphonies, solo concertos, and chamber music. His most popular symphony was the third, nicknamed "the Irish," which enjoyed immediate and widespread success, and continued to be played at concerts well into the 20th c. Although the work stands squarely within the Austro-German symphonic tradition, the "Irish" subtitle indicates its frequent use of genuine folk-tunes. The first movement opens with appealing material. The work's Irish character comes to the fore in the scherzo, with its hopping rhythms. In its own time much of the fame of this symphony rested on the slow movement, one of the most moving pieces Stanford ever composed. The traditional Irish tune used here is "The Lament of the Sons of Usnach" (also used by Bax in the final movement of his oboe quintet, and having an eerie resemblance to the third movement of Brahms Fourth Symphony). In the vivacious finale, two Irish tunes are quoted: "Molly McAlpin" and "Let Erin remember the days of old" - the latter one, announced on four horns, concludes the symphony on a triumphant note. Recording listened to: Ulster Orchestra conducted by Vernon Handley on Chandos (with Irish Rhapsody No. 5)
13. Zdenek Fibich, Symphony No. 2 in E flat major, Op. 38 [1893] After the Biedermeier-period had ended around the middle of the century, high Romanticism followed, which also saw the birth of nationalistic movements in the various parts of the Habsburg Empire, and in other European countries. In Bohemia (the later Czech republic) this nationalism was embodied in the music of Smetana and Dvorak. Their younger contemporary Zdenek Fibich (1850 - 1900), however, was not overtly nationalistic, although he used Czech color and energy - Fibich rather embraced the German-Austrian tradition. Fibich was trained in Vienna, Paris, Leipzig and Mannheim and was the best educated among his Czech contemporaries. He worked first as a conductor, but after 1881 would apply himself wholly to composing. He wrote in all genres - his piano pieces collected under the title Moods, Impressions and Souvenirs are his most famous work. He wrote three symphonies. The second symphony incorporates melodies from the above mentioned piano work, which was a sort of musical diary of his love affair with Aneika Schulzová, a pupil for whom he left his second wife. This is in the adagio, which follows the passionate first movement. A yearning melody is heard with appealing mid-lower string writing, recalling the start of the composer's love affair with Schulzová. After the more lighthearted scherzo we have a vigorous finale which dances along, now and then interrupted by more graceful, romantic themes. Fibich's music is always highly melodic and attractive. Recording listened to: Detroit Symphony Orchestra conducted by Neeme Järvi on Chandos (with Fibich's 3rd symphony)
14. George Whitefield Chadwick, Symphony No. 3 in F major [1894] The Boston-based composer Chadwick (1854-1931) was a representative of the New England School of American composers of the late 19th century - together with Horatio Parker, Amy Beach, Arthur Foote, and Edward MacDowell. Chadwick created a voluminous oeuvre in every medium - his works include operas, three symphonies, five very fine string quartets, tone poems, incidental music, songs and anthems. Chadwick studied for two years in Leipzig with Carl Reinecke, and after that with Rheinberger in Munich. Back in Boston, he served as director of the New England Conservatory. He also was active as a conductor and organist. Any American (or for that matter, "just any") composer wanting to write a symphony in the last decades of the 19th c. had to confront the fact that the symphonic tradition was German-Austrian, in its models, its musical materials, its architecture and the nature of the musical discourse. In other words, it is not surprising that Chadwick's third symphony has a Brahmsian quality. The first movement is a well-designed sonata-allegro with lovely melodic passages and strong development. The Andante is rather dramatic, with a grand climax, while the Vivace is a delicate movement with a saltarello opening. The work is concluded by a robust finale, featuring memorable melodies. Recording listened to: Detroit Symphony Orchestra conducted by Neeme Järvi on Chandos (with Chadwick's 2nd symphony)
15. Albéric Magnard, Symphony No. 3 in B flat minor, Op. 11 [1896] The French composer Albéric Magnard (1865-1914) has already been introduced in my post about The Best Cello Sonatas. He was a man with a small but very fine output, influenced by Franck, but also with a style which is all his own. Magnard wrote four symphonies. His Third Symphony was composed in 1896, the same year as Bruckners No. 9 and Mahler's No. 3. For Magnard, it was the year of his marriage and his obtaining a position as counterpoint tutor at the recently founded Schola Cantorum. Despite that, his symphony is in B flat minor, a surly and discontented key. Not surprisingly therefore that the Introduction to the symphony is dressed in the garment of night, with only here and there a twinkling light. The second movement, Danses, is an explosif presto, Magnard's lightest and truest scherzo. The third movement is a Pastorale, a string dominated intense outpouring, that meanders along while its idyll is constantly undermined by turbulence. After that, the finale comes as a grand, life-enhancing experience. There are many magic moments in this music. Magnard wrote large symphonies rare for French music, and was therefore sometimes called "the French Bruckner," although he has a bit more of Mahler in my view. We end with the question I posed at the beginning: shouldn't orchestras be looking for more good pieces to play - like this symphony and the fourteen others introduced here - instead of continuing to sleepwalk through only a few famous ones? Recording listened to: Orchestre du Capitole de Toulouse conducted by Michel Plasson on EMI (with Magnard's first symphony)
