ISSN 1473-4206

UNITED KINGDOM SIBELIUS SOCIETY NEWSLETTER No. 73

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United Kingdom Sibelius Society Newsletter · Issue 73 (July 2013) — CONTENTS — ‘God opens His door… and His orchestra is playing the Fifth Symphony’ – A tribute to Sir Colin Davis Edward W. Clark . . . . . . 3 Member e-mail addresses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 A Very Special Occasion (Jalas / Gräsbeck) John Grimshaw. . . . . . . . . . 7 The Bard Peter Frankland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Fourteenth International Sibelius Festival – programme details . . . . . . . . 14 Three Sibelius Poems Günther Bedson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Sibelius in Korpo 2013 Andrew G. Barnett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Sibelius at the Bridgewater Hall, Manchester BBC Philharmonic / John Storgårds John J. Davis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Anders Gustaf Wangel Obituary by Geoff Hayes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 CD Reviews Edward W. Clark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Selected Record Releases co-ordinated by Ian Maxwell . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 New JSW Publications Review by Andrew G. Barnett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Sibelius Première in Brighton Andrew G. Barnett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 Recommended Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Beyond Sibelius: Sir William Walton Peter Frankland . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 The United Kingdom Sibelius Society would like to thank its corporate members for their generous support: BB-Shipping (Greenwich) Ltd Transfennica (U.K.) Ltd Chester Music Ltd Skandinaviska Enskilda Banken Breitkopf & Härtel 2

God opens His door… and His orchestra is playing the Fifth Symphony* A tribute to Sir Colin Davis 1927–2013 by Edward W. Clark

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t was entirely appropriate that the BBC broadcast on its main 8 a.m. News, on Radio 4, the ‘swan hymn’ from the Fifth Symphony when announcing Sir Colin’s passing on the morning after his death. By performing the symphony cycle in 1992 with the London Symphony Orchestra, as part of the ambitious Tender is the North Nordic arts festival at the Barbican Centre in London, Sir Colin Davis announced his comeback from what had seemed an eternity of conducting abroad. Michael White wrote in the Daily Telegraph on 16th April 2013: ‘Sibelius had always been a cause for Davis and that cycle at the Barbican was revelatory. Audiences sat up in their seats, surprised by a weight and authority they hadn’t bargained for. And suddenly the world was talking about Colin Davis not as eminent but magisterial. Even great.’ Soon after he was offered the position of chief conductor. This heralded his finest period as a maestro (he hated the word) of world ranking. Two more cycles followed and two sets of the symphonies were issued on CD. His probing into the strange, and to some the impenetrable world of Sibelius grew and knew no bounds. This was the time when I first met Sir Colin. I was drafted onto the fundraising committee for the festival and inevitably met the great man a number of times. It took a while to become close as he was notorious for keeping a distance from new acquaintances. An early chat after a rehearsal lasted twenty minutes. I wanted to seek his opinion on opera and Sibelius so asked: ‘Could Sibelius have ever written a great opera?’ A short pause produced, ‘No’ and silence. It was the end of the meeting. Gradually we drew closer through a shared enthusiasm for the music. He was adding Kullervo and some tone poems to his repertoire and I expressed *Letter from Sibelius to Axel Carpelan, September 1914 3

my appreciation during various conversations. I decided the UK Sibelius Society should make him our Artist of the Year and a number of our members met Sir Colin in the Green Room after a Sibelius concert to present him with a handsome painting commissioned from Matthew Harvey. He was clearly delighted and almost lost for words in showing his thanks. This had become typical of the man, modest and self-deprecating almost to a fault. It had not always been so. Sir Colin had been born into a non-musical family in 1927. A kind uncle paid for his education and he focused on learning the clarinet during his studies in London. Not being a pianist of any kind he was turned down for conducting classes. An early coup was his giving the première of the Clarinet Sonatina by Malcolm Arnold. Like the young Arnold he played in orchestras but yearned to conduct. His break came with the appointment to the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra as assistant conductor. He then deputised for an indisposed Otto Klemperer in Don Giovanni in London. Thereafter an appointment with the Sadler’s Wells Opera Company was followed by spells at the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Covent Garden Opera. Two aspects to his musicianship were emerging: an abiding affection for the music of Mozart, Berlioz, Tippett and German opera, and an ability to get under the skin of his orchestral players on too many occasions. He also never rose to the heights in Italian opera. Only near the end did he perform and record a coruscating Otello by Verdi with the LSO. He maintained his deep love for the former composers and added Sibelius in middle age, deciding to record the cycle when working in Boston in the 1970s. But these years of self-discovery took their toll on his popularity in Great Britain and he continued his journey in life at Boston and then Munich between 1972 and 1993. With the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra he honed his credentials in the mainstream German repertoire. He tried with Sibelius but admitted the players did not understand the Sixth Symphony when he toured it with them. Later he built enduring relationships with the Dresden Staatskapelle and the New York Philharmonic as chief guest conductor. He felt a greater freedom to experiment with the repertoire and, among other works by Sibelius, played the Six Humoresques with the leader of the New York Philharmonic and, in the Tippett centenary year, coupled The Child of Our Time with En saga in Dresden, where he also recorded the Second Symphony. 4

By the time he was appointed to the LSO he was in great demand all over the world and gave generously of his time to student orchestras and the best orchestras the world has to offer with equal affection. In 2000 I was asked to invite him to Helsinki for his Finnish début. The resulting (private) CD made by the Sibelius Academy Orchestra produced the following accolade from the British critic, Douglas Cooksey: ‘In the Helsinki performance it seems to me that there is a kind of contagious “journeying” radiant enthusiasm which drives the piece constantly forward, so much so that at the end one wonders why the Third remains something of a Cinderella amongst Sibelius symphonies.’

Edward Clark, Sir Colin Davis and Andrew Barnett after a concert in the Barbican Centre, London, early 1990s

I was present at the concert and also at the first rehearsal. I also made a point of travelling to the Juilliard School in New York to hear Sir Colin rehearse and perform the Third Symphony in one session. He told me it was his favourite piece by Sibelius for a young set of players. On both occasions he somehow miraculously turned good student bands into authentic Sibelius orchestras by his special alchemy. Amazing. In summary, Colin Davis was simply one of the great conductors of his era. In certain repertoire he had no peer. This includes Sibelius. Through his conducting he shows how Sibelius’s creative muse shines a bright, often uncomfortable, light into the darker recesses of our own human psyche. I once asked him ‘Why do you like Sibelius?’ To which his cryptic reply was ‘Look in the mirror’. 5

Member e-mail addresses Janet Abbotts [email protected] This listing of e-mail addresses is compiled Philip Ashton [email protected] strictly on an opt-in Andrew G. Barnett [email protected] basis. If you would like Günther Bedson [email protected] your e-mail details to be John Bordley [email protected] included in this list, please Simon Boswell simon.boswell@siba.fi contact Andrew Barnett at [email protected] Edward W. Clark [email protected] Peter Connors [email protected] Denys J. Corrigan [email protected] John Davis [email protected] Andrew Duckworth [email protected] Audrey Ellison [email protected] Peter Frankland [email protected] Paul Greenwood [email protected] David Hamer [email protected] Geoff Hayes [email protected] Ian Maxwell [email protected] Philip Moate [email protected] Kevin Paynes [email protected] John & Gill Peregrine jandgperegrine@madasafish.com Rhonda Riachi [email protected] George Steven [email protected] Ed Tinline [email protected] Malcolm Westwood [email protected] Stephen Williams [email protected] Steve Williams [email protected]

Newsletter Copy Date We welcome contributions for forthcoming issues of the newsletter. Copy date for the next issue is 1st November 2013. Please send your articles or reviews to Andrew Barnett: e-mail (preferred): [email protected] Post: 6 Chichester Drive West, Saltdean, Brighton, Sussex BN2 8SH

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A Very Special Occasion by John Grimshaw

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any Society members gathered at the invitation of the Finnish Ambassador and Mrs Pekka Huhtaniemi at their Residence in London on 20th February 2013 for a recital of violin and piano music by Jean Sibelius, an occasion made exceptionally special because the violinist was none other than Sibelius’s grand-daughter, Satu Jalas, playing on Sibelius’s very own violin, and with her at the piano was that doyen of Sibelius accompanists, Folke Gräsbeck. The event resulted from collaboration between the Finnish Embassy and the UK Sibelius Society. After being welcomed on arrival we all moved with great anticipation into the long drawing room, realising as we listened to Mr Huhtaniemi’s introductory address that we could hardly have a more fitting or splendid venue to hear a performance combination that must be a first for the UK. President Edward Clark’s address, introducing the artists, included a most apt and poignant reminiscence: on a visit he made to Ainola in 1968 (the year before Aino Sibelius died) he described how, keeping his distance, he witnessed Aino as a little white-haired lady walking in the garden at Ainola on the arm of Jussi Jalas, the father of our violinist. Satu then related the history of the violin she was to play. Jean Sibelius’s Uncle Pehr had bought two good violins, including this one, at a flea market in St Petersburg. He first lent the other one to Sibelius in the summer of 1881. I would add that this was before Sibelius started violin lessons with Gustaf Levander, the garrison band leader at Hämeenlinna, although he was well into violin playing by then. Indeed, as Folke Gräsbeck has discovered, according to the Nyberg family, Carl August Nyberg of Lovisa taught violin to Sibelius, and it is likely this was no later than 1879. Satu said that Uncle Pehr made over the present violin, an even better one (‘indicated to be a Stainer – the famous Tyrolean violin maker. Its authenticity has been possible neither to confirm nor deny’) to Sibelius when he was aged about 20 and evidently set on making music his career. Much later Sibelius passed the violin on to his violinist daughter Margareta, and eventually in 1955 Sibelius gave the instrument to Margareta’s daughter, Satu, when she was 12 years old. Satu continued by reminiscing about life at Ainola as she knew it. I can quote verbatim from the radio recording of her presentation the following 7

day at Brighton where she and Folke gave a similar concert: ‘As a child I spent with my brother and sister several periods in his home, called Ainola… usually every year some days at the end of August and also during the winter holidays, during the year some weekends and so on. I saw and remember his big blue eyes, and felt a very great spirituality, and there was something heavenly in his way of looking at us children; and this intuitive impression doesn’t go away from my mind. He didn’t stay very much with us, but when he did it was really very special. For instance, as he usually got up late in the morning, and we had already played a long time in the garden, he called us every morning around his bed, where he sat with thousands of pillows, and asked us what everybody had dreamt of; and it had to be a very detailed description – it was his way to know us better inside, and it was not a stupid idea… When he came back from his long walks he met us in the garden with grandmother, and then he opened his arms and we ran to him… He also told us a lot of nature’s secrets. Once, one of my cousins went to the woods and was coming back, then grandfather asked: “Have you been in the woods? What did you see?” “Nothing special,” was the answer. Then my grandfather winked and said: “Go back and look more closely.” ’ Satu recollected how in old age, with his hands too shaky to play the instrument, Sibelius would suggest violin playing with a gesture of one arm and running the fingers of his other hand up and down. Sibelius’s music for violin and piano comes almost entirely from two phases of his life; the first from 1883–91 during the years of his apprenticeship as a composer, and the second from shortly after the outbreak of World War I in 1914 through to 1929. The well-chosen programme of our recital included works from both periods. In my view no-one should decry Sibelius’s ‘youth production’, as it is often described. The music is both fascinating and a delight to listen to. And there is so much of it, mostly brought to light, performed and recorded since the 1982 gift of manuscripts by the Sibelius family to Helsinki University. Fortunately Sibelius composed most of this early music freely for his own devices, not as an academic exercise. As a result what is laid out before us is the extraordinary musicality of the young Sibelius which so impressed everyone who encountered it at the time: a wonderful gift for melody; an extraordinary grasp of rhythm and feel for dance; an amazing sense of what makes music meaningfully expressive; and a great feel for satisfying structure. It’s all there in embryo, to be wonderfully ex8

ploited in his mature works along with a unique creativity over orchestral sonority and structural form. Also one can follow from recordings how his compositions became harmonically more sophisticated and texturally more complex as Sibelius progressed through his apprentice period. Of all the performers who have brought this treasure trove to us, foremost among them by far is Folke Gräsbeck, who has performed and recorded practically all of the Sibelius youth production involving the piano, around 90 (!) works, in the majority of cases as world première performances and world première recordings. He is a most sensitive performer, and he was so again in this recital. Not long before the concert, Folke, who has an international reputation based on more than Sibelius, had returned from a ‘piano quintet project’, in which he promoted the splendid Sibelius Piano Quintet, JS 159 (1890), playing it along with piano quintets of three other composers at concerts in Finland, Italy, the USA and Israel. Of course he has played at previous Society events, nevertheless how good it was that he accompanied Satu on this occasion and how fitting that our Society elected him Artist of the Year in 1999 and has made him an Honorary Vice President. In his paper at the Fifth International Jean Sibelius Conference in 2010, Folke expressed concern about the fate and standing of the large number of Sibelius miniatures. Now many of the pieces for violin and piano of Sibelius’s later period are aphoristic miniatures. Although Sibelius admitted to composing at least some of these miniatures of the World War I era for the sake of cash flow, there should be absolutely no disdain for any of this output. Without large forces at his disposal, Sibelius brought to bear his imagination and that amazing musicality so evident in his youth. The pieces reflect inspired melodic invention, they are all perfectly realised, each one creating its own special atmosphere often by quite simple means, never syrupy, never too long. Surely it takes a special genius to do this successfully so many times. I believe these miniatures display crucial aspects of the genius underlying the creation of the larger works. In this way they gain in significance and should claim our attention. Satu and Folke first played four of the later pieces, opening with the famous Romance in F major, Op. 78 No. 2 (1915), with its intense delicate melody, magically crafted as it continues. As Folke has pointed out it has a forerunner in the exquisite Andante grazioso, JS 35, of 1884–85, composed when Sibelius was still at school! Two more delightful World War I character pieces were included in this first group, Tanz-Idylle, Op. 79 No. 5, and Valse, Op. 81 No. 3, both dance-based and of 1917. The remaining item was quite 9

different; On the Heath, Op. 115 No. 1 (1929) is meditative, like an impressionistic nature tone picture; scenic, with the cry of the birds. The recital continued with the splendid Sonata in F major, JS 178 (1889), a substantial work and the peak of Sibelius’s youth production in this genre. The dramatic first movement is in sonata form with varied and unexpected sections and is quite complex in the parts for both instruments. There is then a complete change of musical character in the other two (rondo) movements, each of which has an explicit programme. The first concerns a Finnish girl who sings a melancholy song while peasant lads try to cheer her up with a Finnish dance. So here Sibelius creates music with a Finnish character. The programme of the dancing finale concerns a midsummer night’s merrymaking disturbed by the fall of a meteor. All this was very well played. After a short interval we heard the Sonatina in E major, Op. 80 (1915), a great piece. It was amazing to listen to this music being performed on Sibelius’s violin by his own grand-daughter; you could almost imagine Sibelius himself playing it. The programme concluded with three of the Humoresques from 1917, arranged for violin and piano by Karl Ekman: No. 1 in D minor, Op. 87 No. 1, No. 4 in G minor, Op. 89 No. 2, and No. 5 in E flat major, Op. 89 No. 3. After a splendid rendering of all these pieces, ending on No. 5 with its jaunty tune brought the house down. Finally, as an encore Satu and Folke performed the exquisite, little Rondino, Op. 81 No. 2, of 1917. Once it had lilted to its final note Satu held that authentic violin up high to welcome the storm of applause. Edward Clark expressed our thanks and appreciation to our performers and to the Ambassador and his wife for their superb hospitality and the support they give to the Society. We are indeed tremendously indebted to them. Edward also mentioned the facilitating role played by Society member George Steven in setting up this recital. In fact George met Folke at Heathrow, Satu at Richmond Station, conveyed them to the Residence and, while they stayed there, assisted with the rehearsing. He was also instrumental in bringing a number of interested musicians, especially those with Finnish connections, to the event. All of us then adjourned for animated discussions over canapés and drinks, a splendid conclusion to an altogether most wonderful and memorable evening. My thanks go to Andrew Barnett for sending the account taken from Satu’s recorded presentation.

See also the note about Satu Jalas and Folke Gräsbeck’s Brighton concert on page 42. 10

The Bard by Peter Frankland

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he Bard is still probably one of the most neglected important works from the pen of Jean Sibelius, but its quiescent inward musings and poetic restraint can be elusive to the casual listener, hiding much passion and indeed power. Sibelius never divulged any specific story behind the music and indeed the composer denied that it had any connection to Runeberg’s poem of the same title. Be that as it may, Sibelius’s music certainly shares some of the atmosphere of the Runeberg poem of which here is an excerpt: Time came when winter touched his locks And age paled his cheeks; And so once more he took his lyre, And plucked sonorous chords – and died Rendering up his soul to the spirit From which it came.

Erik Tawaststjerna said that the most Sibelius ever revealed as to any inspiration for The Bard was to say that it ‘refers to a Skald [Bard] of the ancient Scandinavian world and is not drawn from the Kalevala’. Tawaststjerna observed that Sibelius always kept Runeberg’s poems readily at hand, so could it have been only coincidence that just a few months after completing The Bard, Sibelius wrote a short piano piece To Longing – also the title of a Runeberg poem from volume one of the poet’s collected works (with the title printed in bold) within a page or so after The Bard? Sibelius conducted a first draft of The Bard in March 1913 and after some revision sent it off to his publisher Breitkopf. This version has been lost and it seems that Breitkopf considered the piece as perhaps the introduction to something larger. Sibelius replied suggesting ‘Scenes historiques III’: ‘The Bard’, ‘The Knight and the Elf’ and ‘Rondo’. As we know, however, The Bard was to stand alone. Andrew Barnett has suggested that it could have been the missing first movement of the original version of an incomplete orchestral suite, the last movement of which was the prototype for The 11

Oceanides. The Bard proved to be a piece of extreme brevity with a important part for the harp, perhaps suggesting a bardic lyre. Sibelius revised the piece in 1914. The work is scored for two flutes, two oboes, three clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, tam-tam, harp and strings. The dictionary tells us that ‘Bard’ is: a. One of an ancient Celtic order of minstrel poets who composed and recited verses celebrating the legendary exploits of Chieftains and heroes and b. A poet, especially a lyric poet. Especially in Scandinavian history, a bard was a person who composed and recited epic or heroic poems while playing the harp. It does not really matter exactly what Sibelius had in mind when he composed this wonderful tone poem, for it breathes the essence of ancient prose. Sibelius conducted the revised version in Helsinki on 9th January 1916 with the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra. The Bard falls broadly into two sections: a deeply meditative Lento assai and a more passionate Largamente. The tone poem begins with a three-note ascending motif on the clarinet, echoed by the harp, then the strings. Out of this slenderest of material Sibelius imparts a powerful atmosphere. There is nothing that can really be described as a fully fledged theme in this first part. A little three-note cell moves either upwards or downwards with the harp playing a prominent part. Sibelius distils an atmosphere of profoundly ineffable musing. The entry of trumpet and trombone (bars 97–100) is a powerful moment. Sibelius remarked that this should resemble the sound of the lur, the ancient bronze age brass instrument uncovered in burial mounds in southern Scandinavia during the early nineteenth century. This is a climax of immense concentration, culminating in a single chord – some of the instruments play their one and only note. Sibelius uses the tam-tam once only, towards the end. As with Tapiola the music turns to the major key at the very end, giving a reassuring conclusion. The Bard clearly reveals its close proximity to the Fourth Symphony, with which it shares many characteristics. Tawaststjerna remarked ’that in his pursuit of the aphoristic line and the elusive sonority, striving, as it were, for the unseen and ineffable, he almost reminds one of the aesthetic aims of Webern’. Sibelius’s tone poem The Bard is never likely to be ‘box office’ but, even if it lacks the high drama and colour of Pohjola’s Daughter or the monumental vision of Tapiola, it is undoubtedly a work of profound and enigmatic poetry. The work was premierèd in England in a BBC broadcast by Adrian Boult 12

in 1935 and Beecham gave the first English public performance in 1938 when he directed all seven symphonies. In America The Bard was first performed as late as 1967 by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra under Sixten Ehrling. Why was Sibelius so reticent in divulging any programme behind this masterwork, even being at pains to deny any inspiration from his favourite Runeberg? Here is a personal thought: could it just be that The Bard was a self-portrait of the composer, revealing the innermost source of his creative muse?

Luonnotar – 100 Years Society President Edward Clark was invited to give a pre-concert talk on Luonnotar before the centenary performance at the opening gala concert of the Three Choirs Festival on Saturday 27th July. He writes: ‘Luonnotar was commissioned by the Three Choirs Festival in 1913. It was conducted by Dr Herbert Brewer, the director of music at Gloucester Cathedral; the soloist was the celebrated Finnish soprano Aino Ackté. ‘100 years later the soloist was a compatriot, Helena Juntunen.The Philharmonia Orchestra was conducted by Vladimir Ashkenazy. ‘To begin the concert a natural choice was a work by Elgar, In the South (Alassio), given a resplendent performance. The sound world changed suddenly from high Romantic endeavour to the cooler, more mysterious sounds of the Spirit of the Air, whose description of the creation of the world, according to the Kalevala legend, bought forth one of the most astonishing works even Sibelius ever wrote. This was indeed a scary experience made more so by the majority of the audience hearing Luonnotar for the first time. Juntunen was not only secure in her pitch but she added a spellbinding dimension to the sound that went to the heart of this extraordinary work. ‘Another 1913 première, The Bells by Rachmaninov, ended a wonderful evening of rich musical diversity.’

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Fourteenth International Sibelius Festival Lahti · 5th–8th September 2013 Full programme details for this year’s concerts have now been announced and are given below. Society members who have reserved a hotel room via Andrew Barnett, please note that this year the accommodation is in Hotel Cumulus, Kauppakatu 10, FIN-15140 Lahti. Orchestral Concerts – conducted by Okko Kamu: Thursday 5th September Musik zu einer Scène · Pelléas et Mélisande, concert suite Scène de Ballet · King Christian II, concert suite · Cortège Friday 6th September Kuolema (Death), original score · The Tempest, original score Kirsi Tiihonen / Lilli Paasikivi / Christian Juslin / Petri Lehto / Jaakko Kortekangas / Lahti Chamber Choir Saturday 7th September Karelia Overture · Wedding March from ‘Die Sprache der Vögel’ Belshazzar’s Feast, concert suite · Lemminkäinen Suite

Chamber Concerts Saturday 7th September Adagio ‘Rakkaalle Ainolle’ (piano 4-hands) · Jedermann (piano transcriptions) · Scaramouche (piano transcriptions) · Symphony No. 3 (transcribed for piano 4-hands by Paul Juon) Folke Gräsbeck & Peter Lönnqvist, piano Sunday 8th September Quartet in G minor for violin, cello, piano and harmonium Four Songs for the Theatre (Kom nu hit, död; Sången om korsspindeln; Den judiska flickans sång; De trenne blinda systrar) Andante cantabile in E flat major for piano and harmonium Three Songs (Demanten på marssnön; Den första kyssen; Flickan kom ifrån sin älsklings möte) Scherzo in E minor for violin, cello and piano 4-hands Ljunga Wirginia for violin, cello and piano 4-hands Lilli Paasikivi, mezzo-soprano / Jaakko Kuusisto, violin / Sanna Palas-Lassila, cello / Folke Gräsbeck & Peter Lönnqvist, piano & harmonium 14

Three Sibelius Poems by Günther Bedson

Ironing with Sibelius I can sense the maestro’s presence As he lifts his baton and carves Those first descending D-minor lines – A steely stream of strings Pushing my heavy iron slowly Over the folds I pinch the collar On my long journey north It is summer And yet a damp and dreary smudge of grey Ages the sky Carefully I press the sizzle Into creases Smoothing away the pain Of Jean’s solitude Like a breeze riding ripples The sadness of his lonely Dorian mode Guides my unsteady hand As I glide along the board With ever swifter strokes And the concentration Of a controlled crescendo I iron – Back and forth Up and down Round and into each corner And he rubs my rising rib-cage With salty balm 15

Thrumming cellos and eager double basses pull me Marching like winter dogs On a Karelian sleigh ride – Shirt-sleeves puff and fly And a French horn soars Majestic Finlandia! The ultimate statement – A crisp white shirt, starched to perfection In patriotic splendour I work on and hard Through sheets and jeans and shirts And time flies like a wisp Of lost cadence Until the last piece – it’s hers And my heart lifts tenderly As I turn down the heat To caress her white, laced blouse And she is here For just one precious moment Of fragrant recognition A flutter of silk And gracefully My Swan of Tuonela Slips behind the dried and brittle reeds And we both gape At the dying oboe sunset © Günther Bedson – 15.08.2010

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Souls of Finland Like a tree your roots are gnarled and twisted in the dampness of this earth your yellow leaves swirling D-major triplets dancing down to the square and simple tomb where now I kneel hands locked in solemn prayer and reverie I say nothing for there are no words We are alone together in this sweet garden and there is a silence we share that is neither tranquillity nor melancholy more a pause like the intake of a clarinet’s breath reaching deeply into my aching rib-cage There are rich smells of old summer leaves wild mushrooms, toadstools and rotting apples spread beneath the trees where once you tuned your voice a gleaming apple ripe and untouched and wet with morning dew Your greens are pastoral F-major shades refined and subtle like an artist’s palate strokes so delicate that the tastes of this thick autumn breeze are like viola tremolos dripping an oily elixir of waxy honey

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I run my fingers along the staves of your old bark caressing you the way I would my father’s bristled cheeks if he were with me here if I could if only I still could © Günther Bedson – 10.09.2011 Published in the online literary journal The Lascaux Review www.lascauxreview.com/2012/04/souls-of-finland.html

Burning the Eighth Symphony she would never forget that terrible night so long after he’d started he’d said he was almost finished but didn’t know how for years he’d filled their house with thunderbolt chords he’d said it would be his last piece his monument to Finland she wept that night uncontrollably knowing what he was destroying he’d said it was too big for him too much for the world she’d begged him to stop as each leaf touched the flames afterwards he was silent seemingly at ease 18

when they lowered him into the tomb it was gone forever save for a single page that had slipped away she played it over and over until the house caught fire © Günther Bedson – 08.12.2012

Sibelius World Première Recordings In Newsletter No. 70 we reported on the performance of several late Sibelius orchestral fragments, reconstructed by Timo Virtanen, that various journalists had rashly been claiming were from the Eighth Symphony. The fragments have now been recorded commercially by Okko Kamu and the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, and are released on BIS-2065 (‘The Unknown Sibelius’). The disc also contains three other world première recordings of piano pieces, including the delightful, recently discovered D major ‘Lulu’ Andantino and the JS 13 Adagio that uses themes from the ‘Voces intimae’ string quartet. Also on the CD are recordings of other rare Sibelius works in a wide variety of genres.

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Sibelius in Korpo 2013 by Andrew G. Barnett

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he annual ‘Sibelius in Korpo’ festival took place for the twelfth time on 19th–21st July 2013 and this year was based on the theme of ‘trees and flowers’, in both a literal and a metaphorical sense: literally in that it included Sibelius’s piano pieces and songs named after trees and flowers, and metaphorically because the programming sought to contrast major and minor works. The two major works performed were the Third Symphony – in the piano four-hands arrangement by Paul Juon – and the Cantata for the University Graduation Ceremonies of 1897 – the world première complete performance of the reconstructed version in which Kalevi Aho added some of the missing music. As has been the tradition in recent years, the festival began with a late evening concert (starting at 9 p.m. on Friday 19th July) at Korpo gård, the imposing building in which Sibelius and his family and friends played music in the summer of 1887. It was for the musical sessions here that Sibelius composed some of his most impressive youth pieces (foremost among them the big D major ‘Korpo’ Piano Trio). The concert featured the pianists Folke Gräsbeck (artistic director of the festival) and Peter Lönnqvist and the German soprano Annika Rioux, making a welcome return to Sibelius’s music after her performances at the 2010 Sibelius Conference in Oxford. As a prelude to the concert, I myself gave a lecture about the Third Symphony, discussing its origins, describing the work thematically and formally, and introducing Paul Juon’s piano transcription. Although all of the music heard at this year’s festival was by Sibelius, some works were in arrangements by other people – for instance the piano four-hands version of the Alla marcia from the Karelia Suite, in an effective arrangement by Karl Ekman. This was followed by the relatively well-known Op. 75 set of piano pieces, ‘The Trees’, performed sensitively by Peter Lönnqvist, and complemented by the world première concert performance (given by Folke Gräsbeck) of Syringa, originally planned by Sibelius as the sixth piece in the set and subsequently reworked as Valse lyrique; this was followed by a seventh tree – another world première performance: Peter Lönnqvist’s new arrangement for piano four-hands of The Oak Tree from the incidental 20

music to Shakespeare’s Tempest. The first half concluded with the complete set of German-language songs, Op. 50, in a performance that reinforced the strength of the collaboration between Annika Rioux and Folke Gräsbeck. After the interval came the Third Symphony. Regular Korpo festival-goers will no doubt have remembered the excellent performance of the orchestral version of the symphony two years earlier, conducted by Pekka Helasvuo. The Juon transcription – reworked by the composer himself – is surprisingly successful in retaining much of the detail as well as the atmosphere of the familiar version. In fact, when there are deviations from the orchestral score (for example the rhythm at Fig. 7 in the first movement, where the flute’s quavers at the start of the phrase are semiquavers in the piano version), it is all the more noticeable – and in this instance, I would say, not an improvement. The whole work was certainly performed with great spirit by Gräsbeck and Lönnqvist; the first movement in particular, taken at a lively tempo, generated great excitement. As Dr Timo Virtanen has shown in his introduction to the JSW edition of the symphony Sibelius is known to have preferred this symphony to be played with gusto – and this is precisely what happened here. Gräsbeck and Lönnqvist ended the official concert with the eerie, intimate sounds of the extraordinary Adagio ‘Rakkaalle Ainolle’, a very personal tribute that Sibelius wrote for his wife’s sixtieth birthday on 11th August 1931. But there was more to come: as an encore we heard Peter Lönnqvist’s arrangement for flute and piano four-hands of the Nocturne from the incidental music to Belshazzar’s Feast, with Lönnqvist’s wife, Hanna-Kaarina Heikinheimo, a member of the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra, as the flautist.

Annika Rioux, Folke Gräsbeck, Hanna-Kaarina Heikinheimo and Peter Lönnqvist at Korpo gård, 19th July 2013 21

At lunchtime on Saturday there was a ceremony at the Sibelius monument at the centre of Korpo village: an address was given by Lauri Tarasti, president of the Finnish Sibelius Society, after which an ensemble from the Dominante Choir, conducted by Seppo Murto, sang four of Sibelius’s brief choral pieces: Aamusumussa, Nejden andas, Terve Ruhtinatar! and Kotikaipaus.

Members of the Dominante Choir and Seppo Murto at the Sibelius Monument, Korpo, 20th July 2013

The Saturday evening concert was again held at Korpo gård. Here, Annika Rioux and Folke Gräsbeck were joined by the excellent Åland-born tenor Christian Juslin. The programme was arranged in (more or less) chronological order and traced Sibelius’s development as a composer of piano music and songs throughout his career. It began with three pieces for piano solo: the fourth movement of the big Trånaden fantasy (composed in Korpo in 1887) was framed by two of the most touching of Sibelius’s piano works – the E flat major Andante, JS 30a (originally for piano and harmonium, and probably revised in Korpo) and the newly discovered D major Andantino dedicated to Emma Kristina Marie-Louise Berndtson (‘Lulu’), a piece that Folke Gräsbeck has performed extensively since giving its world première concert performance in Brighton in February this year. Next came three songs with Annika Rioux: the early Serenad to a text by Runeberg (1887–88), which was the first of Sibelius’s works to be published, and the very popular Våren flyktar hastigt and Illalle. The rest of the first half was sung by Christian Juslin, and contained many of Sibelius’s most popular songs – though performed in a slightly unusual way. Whereas most singers cherry-pick the most famous songs, Juslin per22

formed the Op. 36 set complete. Most Sibelius enthusiasts will surely be familiar with at least three of these songs: Svarta rosor, Säv, säv, susa and Demanten på marssnön. But how long is it since any of us have heard live performances of the others – Men min fågel märks dock icke, Bollspelet vid Trianon and Marssnön? Juslin, with his impressive stage presence and communicative skills, managed to combine a powerful, operatic style with moments of great intimacy and tenderness. These qualities were also in evidence in the song that concluded the first part of the concert, the very well-known Flickan kom ifrån sin älsklings möte. At the beginning of the second half, two songs from the eight Josephson settings, Op. 57 (1909) took us into a later period in Sibelius’s career and into a different world entirely: En blomma stod vid vägen and Jag är ett träd inhabit a far more austere and audacious musical world that points towards the Fourth Symphony. Here Annika Rioux’ purity of tone and exact intonation was very well suited to the music. She was then joined by Christian Juslin for the wartime duet Tanken, a song whose simplicity of utterance and apparent naïvety never fail to captivate the audience, even if Runeberg’s text can be interpreted – in the context of 1915 – as an allusion to the unpopularity of Russian rule in Finland. More flowers came next, in the form of the five Op. 85 piano pieces, also from the war years, that bear the names of assorted flowers. Gräsbeck’s subtle rubato in the fourth piece, Aquileja, was a further reminder of the subtlety that Sibelius’s miniatures possess. The six sings of Op. 88 are also about flowers, and Christian Juslin performed these brief, elusive miniatures with great charm. The concert ended with two of Sibelius’s very last songs. Narciss (1925) was in fact his last original solo song with piano, expressively (and even thematically) close to the Seventh Symphony, and Annika Rioux’s performance had commensurate dignity. Dignity was a quality conspicuously (and intentionally) absent from the last item, however: Sibelius’s own arrangement for tenor and piano (1928) of the choral song Siltavahti, to a text by Wäinö Sola. Although this song is technically challenging, Christian Juslin delivered a stirring account of it that was greeted by prolonged and well-deserved applause from a full-house audience. After the Saturday concert there was a splendid dinner for all the festival participants and invited guests at the nearby Hjalmar’s tavern in the centre of Korpo. The presence of a number of experienced choral singers in the as23

sembled company provided not only an excuse but also a justification for some impromptu singing – not only of traditional drinking songs but also of Sibelius’s beautiful Fridolins dårskap.

The impromptu male choir at Hjalmar’s tavern On the left: Fabian Dahlström; third from left: Christian Juslin

Sunday’s programme began with a lunchtime lecture by Prof. Fabian Dahlström on the subject of Sibelius’s cantatas from the 1890s: the promotional cantatas for Helsinki University of 1894 and 1897, and the Coronation Cantata for Tsar Nicholas II of 1896. Dahlström never fails to find some new and interesting aspects to Sibelius, and he always approaches his material from a new and enlightened angle – as this lecture demonstrated. The topic for this lecture was especially relevant because the concluding concert, on Sunday afternoon in Korpo church, included the world première complete concert performance of the 1897 cantata in its version for soloists, mixed choir and piano. The most famous part of this work – known widely in Finland, as it is included in the Finnish hymn book – is the song Soi kiitokseksi Luojan. Sibelius himself conducted the work in its original form (soloists, mixed choir and orchestra) at Helsinki University Hall in 1897 and again in concert in Tampere the following January, but the orchestral score is lost. Most (though not all) of his piano reduction has survived, and Kalevi Aho has completed some of the missing sections. There are still some gaps, however, where the surviving material gives no indication at all as to the nature of the original. The performers on this occasion were the Annika Rioux and Christian Juslin with the Dominante Choir conducted by Seppo Murto, with Folke Gräsbeck at the piano. Before the cantata, we heard a selection of Sibelius’s most popular a cappella choral songs: Venematka, Min rastas raataa, Saarella palaa, Rakastava 24

(again with Rioux and Juslin as soloists), Sydämeni laulu, Sortunut ääni and Ej med klagan. There were also two rarities: the reconstruction of the English-language song Listen to the Water Mill (text: Sarah Doudney) from the period of the Third Symphony, and the counterpoint exercise Herr, Du bist ein Fels, in its version for choir and piano (the end of the piano part has been completed by Folke Gräsbeck). The cantata performance itself was something of a triumph: despite the occasional missing sections it plays for some forty minutes, yet there is a surprising continuity of purpose and of thematic invention. It is not especially difficult music for the listener: the themes are well-defined and attractive, and the climaxes are effective. The entire festival was a resounding success, with a consistently high artistic standard and the very special atmosphere of Korpo in summer, and especially the music room at Korpo gård. I am sure that I speak for all of those present if I express thanks to all the musicians, especially to the festival’s artistic director Folke Gräsbeck, to Tuulikki Wahe-Röhrbach for placing Korpo gård at the festival’s disposal, and to the festival’s excellent and efficient organizer Petri Kirkkomäki.

Sibelius at the Bridgewater Hall, Manchester BBC Philharmonic / John Storgårds by John J. Davis

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ver a period of one week during three concerts in June this year 2013, the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by the eminent Finn John Storgårds, who’s their principal guest conductor, performed all the seven symphonies of Finland’s greatest composer. The BBC Radio 3 channel did all Sibelians proud by broadcasting the entire cycle from the above auditorium. Concert No. 1 consisted of the First and Fifth Symphonies. This performance of Symphony No. 1 stood out for me as truly great throughout. The beautifully played clarinet solo set the scene and it wasn’t long before the timpanist let fly in dramatic manner, which I’m told was also physically spec25

tacular. (I was very much reminded of seeing the timpanist James Bradshaw, from a few feet away behind the orchestra, in the LSO at the Royal Festival Hall back in the early 1950s with Anthony Collins). This movement was played just as I like it; indeed it’s the one movement, in all of the Sibelius symphonies, where I take issue with Osmo Vänskä and his penchant for rushing certain passages. John Storgårds especially excelled himself here, as indeed throughout the whole cycle. No. 5 received a glorious performance with fabulous playing from the horns for the ‘swan theme’ and just the right amount of timpani in the final two chords. Concert No. 2 consisted of Symphonies Nos 4 and 2, in that order for obvious reasons. Again all went well, John Storgårds going for the glockenspiel and not tubular bells in the fourth movement of No. 4 (as he did at his concert in Birmingham’s Town Hall a few years ago, with the Tampere Philharmonic Orchestra; on that occasion he explained why in a pre-concert interview with Lyndon Jenkins). No. 2 was the thrill of a lifetime with key moments given plenty of time to breathe with suitably dramatic effect. The final concert consisted of Symphonies Nos 3, 6 and 7. If there was just one movement in this whole cycle in which I personally wished that the tempi would have been a little slower, it was the first movement of No. 3. However in No. 6, especially in its first movement, there was nothing but sheer magic with all my ‘goose pimples alerted’. No. 7 was totally sonorous throughout, the leading trombone excelling himself during those vital solo passages. This was one of the most thrilling projects that I’ve heard for a long time. The standard of playing by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, led by Yuri Torchinsky, and the vivid interpretations secured by Maestro Storgårds, were second to none – all sounding splendid in the excellent acoustic of the Bridgewater Hall. It is also very gratifying to know that this entire cycle has been recorded for commercial release by Chandos in 2014 (so Petroc Trelawny told us on the radio, and this has been confirmed to me by the BBC Philharmonic management). Chandos recordings are always of the very highest standards, so here goes for some more future ‘plastic bashing’! In conclusion, the cycle was well attended by members of the UK Sibelius Society including Paul Greenwood, all the way from the south coast, Peter and Jasna Connors, not far from their doorstep and, last but not least, Janet and David Abbotts from ‘just down the road’ in the Potteries. 26

Anders Gustaf Wangel (1934–2013) by Geoff Hayes

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rofessor Emeritus Anders Wangel MBBS MD (Adelaide), Med Lic. Docent (Helsinki), DPhil (Oxford) FRCP, FRACP died in Adelaide, Australia on 7th April 2013, aged 78 years. His father was Dr Gustaf Wangel, who was wounded in the hand during the Finnish Civil War of 1918. His mother was Dr Rita Sibelius (1907–2004), rheumatologist and amateur musician. His grandfather was Professor Christian Sibelius (1869–1922), neurologist, psychiatrist, amateur cellist and brother of composer Jean Sibelius. When Gustaf married Rita he was a junior colleague of Christian Sibelius. As a child during World War II Anders spent a year on the Wangels’ family-owned Djupö island on the Finnish side of the Bothnian Gulf. Like many other Finnish children then he spent another year in the comparative safety of Sweden. It was from Djupö in 1952 that Gustaf Wangel began sailing his prized Vision SK 30 yacht. Anders became a sailing champion and inherited his father’s yacht. Anders inherited his grandfather Sibelius’s cello and kept it at Djupö where he played it privately when he was in Finland. As a cellist during his youth he performed chamber music with his mother together with the composer’s daughter Margareta and sometimes her daughter Satu. Anders was privileged to discuss music with the aged composer. During the Olympic Games in Helsinki in 1952 Anders met the Australian Olympic swimmer Denise Norton. When he married her in Finland in 1956, Jean and Aino Sibelius were frail and did not meet the bride or attend the wedding, but they gave the young couple a large silver spoon. After settling in Adelaide Anders was invited to be a reserve cellist with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, but his medical commitments were too demanding. There the Wangels produced two sons, Christian and Henrik, and a daughter, Ingrid. Sometimes Rita arrived from Finland to visit them. All three are now medical practitioners like five generations of the Sibelius family before them. Seven years after the composer’s death Anders began a threeyear study period at Oxford University. During the 1964 summer vacation his mother persuaded him to travel to Järvenpää and visit Aino Sibelius with 27

Denise and the children. They visited Aino again in 1965 and 1966. Aino, then well into her nineties, recognised similarities in appearance between Denise and herself as a young woman. Anders was appointed Professor of Medicine at the University of Adelaide in 1968. His medical specialties were haematology, gastroenterology and immunology. In 1973 he became the Dean of Medicine there. That same year he won a 420 class yachting championship at Brighton, Adelaide. In 1980 he was selected in the Australian Olympic sailing team for the Moscow Olympic Games – but the team responded to Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser’s request to boycott the event. When the Finnish conductor and sailing enthusiast Okko Kamu visited Australia he was a guest on their yacht. Anders was injured in a cycling accident in 1993 and suffered a stroke during surgery to repair his broken jaw. The trauma severely compromised his power of speech. He stepped down from his senior post and Denise assisted him to complete research work on diabetes type one. Despite his disability, on occasions he continued to perform in the cello section with the Australian Doctors’ Symphony Orchestra together with violinists Christian and Ingrid. He also continued as a member of a suburban orchestra and a private string quartet. Until his mother’s death he continued to visit her in Finland each year and since then to stay at his unsophisticated island retreat. Access across two hundred metres of water was by rowing boat. A single solar panel boosted internal light and a gas cylinder fuelled their refrigerator and stove. Meals included fish they netted and berries from the forest. On the adjacent mainland Anders and Denise rode their bicycles around Nykarleby (where the author Zachris Topelius was born). For shopping they drove around in an old diesel-powered Mercedes-Benz. It usually sprang back to life successfully after ten months of hibernation including the severe Finnish winter. The warm-hearted Anders will be remembered by, among others, six grandchildren.

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R E V I E W S

by Edward W. Clark Sibelius: Symphony No. 2; Pohjola’s Daughter; The Oceanides; Hallé Orchestra · Sir Mark Elder Hallé Orchestra CD HLL 7516 With this issue of important Sibelius works, Sir Mark Elder shows that he is a worthy successor to the much missed Sir Colin Davis in the realm of Sibelius interpretation. The Second Symphony opens with a spacious tempo which demonstrates the sumptuous tone of the Hallé strings. Indeed the whole CD points to the Hallé orchestra as one of the very best of all ‘city’ orchestras. (All the greatest orchestras, be they in North America or Europe, are ‘city’ orchestras). Elder produces a superbly refined sound from his players throughout. The strings are deep, dark and rich; the woodwind have the necessary ‘earthy’ plangent sonority that embellishes Sibelius’s unique orchestration and the brass is resplendent in manner and projection. This Second Symphony jumps to the top of the large choice on CD before the discerning listener. Elder is patient in conveying the unique Sibelian method of growing a large structure from small beginnings. He takes the correct road of seeing the end at the very beginning. It is a magnificent (live) performance and does credit to both conductor and players. Were that not enough, he opens with two wonderful symphonic/tone poems. Again he judges tempi relationships in a way that avoids unnecessary jarring between the often broad fundamental currents and the more visceral glories heard in each work. Indeed The Oceanides rivals the equally majestic readings from Eugene Ormandy and Thomas Beecham. The ebb and flow in the music is played in such a natural way that the quiet, disturbing close only raises huge questions for the meaning of life as we know it. Pohjola’s Daughter, a proto-symphony in all but name, is one of Sibelius’s most graphic works with a strong story line that is easy to follow. Strange to 29

remember that the gestation was for a completely different legend from the Kalevala! No matter. This wonderful work rivals anything by Richard Strauss in colour and feeling. Elder captures the dark Nordic intensity aided by the attentive and superbly executed performance of the Hallé. The rich orchestration, rare in major Sibelius, is emphasized and the result is exhilarating and profound. So, a thousand bravos are given to this superb issue. We can only hope the Fourth Symphony awaits us from this source. That will be the supreme test for all concerned in helping us to understand the complex and unnerving genius that Sibelius bequeathed to the world.

Kajanus conducts Sibelius: Volume 1 · Symphony No. 1 (rec. 1930); Pohjola’s Daughter (rec. 1932); Tapiola (rec. 1932) Volume 2 · Symphony No. 2 (rec. 1930); Belshazzar’s Feast (rec. 1932); Karelia Suite, movements 1 and 3 (rec. 1930) Volume 3 · Symphonies No. 3 and No. 5 (rec. 1932); March of the Finnish Jäger Battalion (rec. 1928) Royal Philharmonic Orchestra / London Symphony Orchestra / Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra Naxos Historical 8111393 / 8.111394 / 8.111395 My life is never complete without dipping into the Naxos Historical series of out-of-copyright recordings. Now we have reissues of the Robert Kajanus recordings of Sibelius, alas not all the symphonies, as Kajanus died in 1933. What would Nos 4, 6 and 7 have become under the Finnish maestro’s magic wand? Sibelius himself chose his long-standing champion to put onto record his music in the early 1930s. The results are three indispensable CDs containing symphonies 1, 2, 3 and 5 plus incidental music, tone/symphonic poems and the two outer movements from the famous Karelia Suite. May I suggest you start (I am assuming everyone will immediately buy all three CDs, even if you already possess the 78s, LPs or earlier CD issues as the recording quality is so 30

superior on Naxos as to make the others redundant) with the gorgeous, beguiling and utterly entrancing Belshazzar’s Feast. The recording is now quite stunning with no background noise to be heard in the quieter sections, and the music is beautifully performed by the players under Kajanus. After that go where your mood takes you. Symphony No. 2 opens at a cracking pace, quite right if you subscribe to my theory that this work is the result of a (near) nervous breakdown suffered by Sibelius while on a family visit to Rapallo in Italy. His daughter Ruth caught typhus and both Janne and Aino feared she would follow her sister Kirsti, who had died from the disease a little earlier. With a faster than normal opening tempo the atmosphere is electric, burning with anxiety and anguish, like a coil being tightened and let go throughout the movement. The finale is surely a spiritual release from darkness to light. Kajanus is among the best in capturing this turmoil and ultimate relief in salvation. Symphony No. 3 is the exact opposite with a very steady opening which makes the music sound much more interesting instead of the often headlong speeds adopted today. Sir Colin Davis modelled his views after hearing, in childhood, the Kajanus 78 rpm discs. Both bring a real sense of other-worldly perplexity to the middle movement through the slowish speed at the beginning and close. The finale allows a joyous celebration throughout the second half. Recent research shows this symphony to be based on a religious impulse brought on by the death of his daughter, Kirsti (referred to above). Kajanus (and Davis) capture this atmosphere of discovery, reflection and ultimate celebration on rebirth to perfection. Symphony No. 1 is faithful to the letter of the score; all those hairpin dynamics are observed. The music ebbs and flows with real passion without in any sense feeling rushed. Only the timpani sound is disappointing, muffled and restricted throughout. Symphony No. 5 nearly breaks down near the end of the first movement but this should not distract from a performance of real stature in one of Sibelius’s most complex and intellectual works. Today we think of the great ‘swan hymn’ in the finale as a simple melody that we can hum in the bath. Try and analyse its use, however, and the tune becomes entwined with the countermelody and almost disappears. In fact the composer successfully destroys it at the every end with the six crashing chords, the only way to stop the unstoppable. Listen to Kajanus and we are held in a state of wonderment, rough edges and all. Tapiola is terrifying, more so by not being rushed. All the amazing or31

chestration is heard as if recorded yesterday. This is one of the very best recordings ever made of this absolute 20th-century masterpiece (of which there are a mere handful). Pohjola’s Daughter becomes a true single movement symphony through the conductor’s cohesive approach. A real bonus is the Finnish Jäger March, recorded in Berlin by the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra under its conductor of thirty years. This is the exact combination Sibelius heard many times in his own music. As I have alluded to above, the sound bought forth by the veteran producer of historic recordings, Mark Obert-Thorn is fresh, lively and astonishingly contemporary in ambience and feeling. There is no need to save up at these Naxos prices.

Sibelius: Symphony No. 4 Philadelphia Orchestra / Leopold Stokowski Symphony No. 6 Finnish National Orchestra / Georg Schnéevoigt Symphony No. 7 BBC Symphony Orchestra / Serge Koussevitzky Naxos Historical 8.111399 As first recordings go these take some beating and not only on grounds of quality. What about controversy? Georg Schnéevoigt recorded two symphonies on successive days in London; the Sixth in the EMI Abbey Road Studio No. 1 in London on 3rd June and then the Fourth Symphony the next evening at a public concert in the Queen’s Hall. Sibelius was not happy with the recording of No. 4 and it was never issued in his lifetime. No. 6 was issued as part of the Sibelius Society set, begun under Robert Kajanus (see above). In 1943 Sibelius wrote to Schnéevoigt, following a concert the previous day, congratulating him and adding his wish that he should record certain works, including the Lemminkäinen Suite (Schnéevoigt had given the première of the complete suite in its final revision in New York with the NBC 32

Symphony Orchestra in 1939) – but not the Fourth or Sixth Symphonies. So there we have it, direct if not downright blunt words by Sibelius on his views of his champion’s earlier performances, which need not necessarily be only those from the recordings. But clearly certain things upset Sibelius about Schnéevoigt’s interpretations of these two particular symphonies. (In the case of the recording of No. 4 it may have been the playing which has clear mistakes). This new reissue on Naxos offers us the chance to make up our own minds. Generally the Sixth Symphony is thoughtful, lucid and beautifully played but the extremely fast tempo for the scherzo may have offended Sibelius to the extent that he felt the conductor just did not grasp what was needed to make the best effect. Incidentally, of later interpreters on record, only Lorin Maazel comes close in speed on his recording with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, and he was accused by reviewers of being generally unsympathetic at the time. Mention must be made of the marvellous sound achieved in this work by the restorer Mark Obert-Thorn. It really is clear and transparent, more so than many modern recordings, incredible though that may sound. So to the Fourth Symphony under Stokowski with his Philadelphia Orchestra in 1932. This legendary conductor has been accused of many things in the realm of poor taste but I can think of no better illustration of his sheer tenacity and bravery than setting down Sibelius’s most difficult work at a time of extreme economic austerity (sounds familiar to us today, really) requiring a reduced string section. Not that it matters, as the sound is again wonderfully full and firm for the time. Advocates of Anthony Collins in this work will feel a kinship with Stokowski; the timings of each movement are almost the same. The first three are quite brisk and the finale slower than we normally hear today. The effect is devastating, though, with wonderful string sonorities and brass that pummels our senses in those two Adagio episodes in the first movement. Stokowski was an interpreter par excellence in all the music he performed and there is plenty of that here, including a slowing down at the end that offers a degree of comfort to assuage the earlier spiritual wounds inflicted on us by Sibelius. Normally I hate this intrusion by a conductor on the composer’s clear intentions (Sibelius marked no slowing down whatsoever) but, as always with the wizard Stokowski, I am convinced when I hear it. What a conductor, what a work! 33

So to the last completed symphony, No. 7, under another legendary maestro, Serge Koussevitzky. This comes from a public concert in London in 1933 and was issued in the Sibelius Society set compiled by Walter Legge. This performance has always been highly regarded and my comments are made in the knowledge of its undoubted fame. I think this is actually a performance in two halves, one underwhelming, the other overwhelming. The opening is a slow burn and the phrasing of the string threnody is actually perverse, chopped up and separated, denying it proper flow and gravitas. About halfway through something happens to galvanise the whole performance which takes on a much greater intensity, culminating in a coda that touches the heart strings. Purists beware, because the maestro adds a trumpet to the last cadence! So there we have it; three first recordings of quite remarkable works from the pen of a master, each generating lots of thoughts to mull over. The overriding impact is not in question. Not only of the music but also in the re-engineering from very old sources into an experience I can only say I am stunned to hear.

Selected Record Releases Information co-ordinated by Ian Maxwell Symphonies Nos 1–7; Finlandia; Karelia Suite; Pohjola’s Daughter; Valse triste; The Swan of Tuonela; Lemminkäinen’s Return; Pelléas et Mélisande (extracts); Scènes historiques (extracts); Rakastava; Romance in C Hallé Orchestra / Sir John Barbirolli EMI 984702-2 (5 CDs, reissues, bargain price)

Symphonies Nos 1–7; Kullervo*; Lemminkäinen Suite; Pohjola’s Daughter; The Bard; Karelia Suite; The Oceanides; Finlandia; Valse triste; Tapiola; Night Ride and Sunrise *Hillevi Martinpelto, soprano; *Karl-Magnus Fredriksson; baritone; *London Symphony Chorus; London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Colin Davis RCA Classical Masters 888765431352 (7 CDs, reissues, bargain price) 34

Symphonies Nos 1–7; Night Ride and Sunrise; En saga; Lemminkäinen Suite; The Bard; The Dryad; Pohjola’s Daughter; Tapiola; Spring Song; The Oceanides; Luonnotar Berlin Symphony Orchestra / Kurt Sanderling (symphonies) Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra / Vasily Sinaisky (tone poems) Brilliant Classics 9439 (7 CDs, reissues, bargain price)

Symphonies No. 1, No. 2 & No. 7; The Swan of Tuonela; Finlandia NHK Symphony Orchestra / Horst Stein KKC 2033/4 (2 CDs, full price)

Symphony No. 2; *Luonnotar; Tapiola; Finlandia (+ concert) Philharmonia Orchestra / Vladimir Ashkenazy Decca 478 509-3 (50 CDs, reissues, bargain price)

Symphony No. 2 (+Britten, Schubert) Cologne Radio Symphony Orchestra / John Barbirolli ICA Classics ICA2 5096 (2 CDs, mid price)

Symphony No. 2; En Saga; Luonnotar (+concert) Staatskapelle Dresden / Sir Colin Davis Profil PH 13032 (6 CDs, mid price)

Symphony No. 2; Pohjola’s Daughter; The Oceanides Hallé Orchestra / Sir Mark Elder Hallé Orchestra CDHLL 7516 (mid price)

Symphony No. 2 Philharmonia Orchestra / Paul Kletzki HI-Q Records HIQLP 026 (LP, reissue, premium price)

Symphony No. 2 (+concert) BBC Symphony Orchestra / Arturo Toscanini EMI Icon 723334-2 (6 CDs, bargain price)

Symphony No. 4; Rakastava; Romance in C major Hallé Orchestra / Sir John Barbirolli HI-Q Records HIQLP 030 (LP, reissue, premium price) 35

Symphony No. 4 · Philadelphia Orchestra / Leopold Stokowski Symphony No. 6 · Finnish National Orchestra / Georg Schnéevoigt Symphony No. 7 · BBC Symphony Orchestra / Serge Koussevitzky Naxos Historical 8.111399 (historical, reissues, bargain price)

Symphony No. 5; Finalandia Philharmonia Orchestra / Herbert von Karajan Hi-Q Records HIQLP 010 (LP, reissue, premium price)

Symphonies Nos 5 & 6; Tapiola Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra / Jukka-Pekka Saraste RCA Classical Masters 88697715212 (reissue, bargain price)

Violin Concerto; Serenade No. 2; En saga Julian Rachlin / Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra / Lorin Maazel Newton Classics 8802196 (reissue, mid price)

Violin Concerto (+concert) Zina Schiff / MAV Symphony Orchestra / Avlana Eisenberg MSR Classics MS 1459 (full price)

The Unknown Sibelius Orchestral Works: Finland Awakes; The Oceanides (Yale version); Four Fragments (1930–57); Processional Vocal/Choral Music: Jag kysser dig [och ledsnar] ej; Tule, tule kultani; Tanken (JS 192); Italian Folk Song Arrangements; Fridolins dårskap; Jone havsfärd Chamber Music: Serenata for two violins & cello; Ödlan (incidental music) Piano Music: Andantino in D major ‘Till Emma Kristina Marie-Louise Berndtson – Lulu’; Impromptu in B minor; Adagio in E major; Adagio ‘Rakkaalle Ainolle’

Lahti Symphony Orchestra conducted by Osmo Vänskä & Okko Kamu; Helena Juntunen, soprano; Anne Sofie von Otter & Monica Groop, mezzo-sopranos; Gabriel Suovanen, baritone; Jorma Hynninen, baritone; Jaakko Kuusisto, Laura Vikman & Jyrki Lasonpalo, violins; Anna Kreetta Gribajcevic, viola; Taneli Turunen, cello; Eero Munter, double bass; Folke Gräsbeck & Peter Lönnqvist, piano; Dominante Choir / Seppo Murto; Orphei Drängar / Robert Sund BIS-2065 (full price)

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Review by Andrew G. Barnett The Oceanides (two versions); Tapiola Breitkopf & Härtel SON 620 (JSW I/16) · Price €144.00

Lemminkäinen Suite (early versions) Breitkopf & Härtel SON 618 (JSW I/12a) · Price €199.50 Available via www.breitkopf.com Two important new releases in Breitkopf & Härtel’s ongoing JSW critical edition of Sibelius’s music are notable in particular for providing the first published editions of the early versions of The Oceanides and the Lemminkäinen tone poems. The final version of The Oceanides and the one and only version of Tapiola have long been stalwarts of Breitkopf & Härtel’s catalogue, but the new edition allows for numerous small amendments and corrections throughout.

T

he unifying factor in JSW I/16, edited by Kari Kilpeläinen, is that both works were composed for America: The Oceanides commissioned by Carl Stoeckel and his wife and premièred on Sibelius’s own visit there in 1914, and Tapiola for performance by Walter Damrosch in New York in 1926. When they subsequently received their first Finnish performances, both tone poems were heard alongside new symphonies: The Oceanides together with the original, four-movement version of the Fifth Symphony on 8th December 1915, and Tapiola with the Finnish première of the Seventh Symphony on 27th April 1927. In consequence, neither tone poem attracted particular attention from Finnish critics at first. The Oceanides has a complicated history. It started out as a sketch for a the third movement of an orchestral suite (‘Fragment ur en Suite för Orkester 1914. Föregångare till Okeaniderna’ [‘Fragment of a Suite for Orchestra 1914. Predecessor of the Oceanides’], National Library of Finland, HUL 37

0329). This version – which introduces many of the tone poem’s themes and moreover is ordered in a manner closely reminiscent of its final version – is mentioned in the JSW edition, but only in a footnote to its introduction. As for the rest of the suite, I have proposed elsewhere that the missing first movement may have been separated off and formed the basis of the tone poem The Bard (see e.g. Finnish Music Quarterly 2003, Vol. 3, pp. 47–48); the middle movement, meanwhile, was recycled as a piano piece. To avoid confusion, my own suggestion as to the disposition of the suite is given below: Fragment ur en Suite för Orkester 1914 First movement

Lost

Second movement

HUL 0329 Reworked for piano as Till trånaden

? = first version of The Bard

Third movement

HUL 0329 Reworked and expanded as The Oceanides

The present JSW volume thus takes up the Oceanides story from the moment that it was commissioned by the Stoeckels, and thoroughly documents its composition and hurried revision in time for the première in America. The early version is often termed the ‘Yale version’ because Sibelius gave the manuscript to Carl Stoeckel and it eventually found its way into Yale University Library. There is thorough discussion not only of the reception to the American performance but also to the modest early critical reactions in Finland. One particularly interesting aspect to emerge from Kari Kilpeläinen’s account of the genesis of Tapiola concerns the publishing process. It is wellknown that Tapiola is almost unique among Sibelius’s major works in that it was premièred and published without the composer having heard it in concert (with the attendant possibilities to make corrections); from the new volume, however, we gain new insight into the complex three-way relationship between composer, publisher and the commissioner, Walter Damrosch – a relationship made more complicated by the lack of a copyright agreement between Finland and the United States. As the autograph scores both for the final version of The Oceanides and for Tapiola are lost, the five facsimile pages included in the present volume all come from the autograph score of the early version of The Oceanides. They demonstrate the truth of Kari Kilpeläinen’s remark that it ‘is carelessly written and unclear… difficult to read in places, especially towards the end’. When Osmo Vänskä recorded the early version of the piece in January 2003, the score (and parts) he used were computer-written copies in which the horns and trum38

pets at the big climax at bar 120 were notated in the ‘wrong’ key (an obvious mistake that was discussed and, thankfully, corrected at the recording sessions). The critical commentary in the JSW edition makes no mention of any anomalies in the brass parts at this point, and this copy of the score is not listed among the sources for the work, so presumably this score was not regarded as a reliable source and the confusion simply arose from a modern copyist’s error. Of particular interest is the section of the commentary that lists remarks and interpretative hints given by Sibelius himself – especially the comments he made on various occasions to his son-in-law Jussi Jalas. Although Robert Kajanus’s 1932 recording of Tapiola is widely regarded as one of his best Sibelius performances on disc, Kilpeläinen points out that the composer himself was not entirely convinced. ‘Sibelius stated [to Jalas] that Kajanus did not know Tapiola well enough when he went to London. In Sibelius’s view, Kajanus’s recording was too slow and too lifeless; the work “must be played much more dramatically”.’ Curiously, however, when Jalas himself made a radio recording of the work in Stockholm many years later, he himself adopted a very broad approach – at least as steady as Kajanus. By contrast, an English recording of The Oceanides was remarked upon by the composer on two separate occasions, in 1943 and 1945, in opposite terms: ‘This English recording has a much too fast tempo.’ (Presumably he was referring to the one by Adrian Boult and the BBC Symphony Orchestra from 1936, which at just under eight minutes is possibly the quickest recording of the piece ever made.)

T

he Lemminkäinen volume (JSW I/12a) contains the earliest surviving complete versions of three movements: Lemminkäinen and the Maidens of the Island, Lemminkäinen in Tuonela and Lemminkäinen’s Return. The mammoth task of trying to decipher the work’s genesis – one of the most complex of all among Sibelius’s major works – has fallen to the editor of this volume, Tuija Wicklund. In the case of the early incarnations of Lemminkäinen and the Maidens of the Island, the only source material was the orchestral parts for the 1896 version (the conductor’s score is lost). For Lemminkäinen in Tuonela there are assorted scores and parts, with alterations and correction slips from 1896/97 and 1935. The early Swan of Tuonela is represented by a single violin part (see below). And for Lemminkäinen’s Return, a set of orchestral parts and some pages from the autograph manuscript (used when the work was revised) have survived. A companion volume in 39

the JSW edition, JSW I/12b, will include the final versions of the four tone poems and a discussion of their publication process. The suite’s links with the abandoned opera Veneen luominen (The Building of the Boat), critical reactions to the 1896 première, the 1897 revision, the 1935 performance of a hybrid version of the entire suite (The Swan and Lemminkäinen’s Return in their by then very familiar published versions, the other two movements still in their 1897 form), the Kalevala passages to which the music alludes: all are painstakingly documented in the introduction to this volume. We are used to reading that the reviewer Karl Flodin took a negative view of the Lemminkäinen Suite when he first heard it; but Wicklund points out that the remaining reviews, and indeed the audience reaction, were essentially positive. Indeed it is from one of these reviews that we learn that the original version of Lemminkäinen in Tuonela contained a harp part – a fact that has been overlooked in earlier attempts to reconstruct the work. Wicklund has also found what currently seems the be the only surviving trace of the original, longer Swan of Tuonela: a first violin part, reproduced entirely in facsimile. Unfortunately this part is insufficient to allow the full score to be reconstructed, although it does give some general indications as to the length and character of the passages that were omitted: its overall length was reduced by approximately one quarter. Wicklund also tackles the issue of titles: for example, in the case of the first movement, sometimes billed as ‘Lemminkäinen and the Maidens of Saari’, she explains and resolves the confusion arising as to whether ‘Saari’ [island] is a particular location – in which case it would be spelt with a capital letter – or a generic term: ‘Sibelius meant an island in general and consistently used the lower case latter’. The decision to include the earliest complete versions of the movements has resulted in the omission of the 32 introductory bars from Lemminkäinen in Tuonela heard on Osmo Vänskä’s recording of the reconstruction by the Texasbased musicologist Colin Davis (‘a mixture of the first and second versions [although entitled “the original version”]… furthermore includes Davis’s own additions’). These bars are, however, included separately as one of a series of reconstructions of isolated passages after the three complete movements: these include several later sections from the same tone poem (the harp, later omitted, is very prominent in the longer of these, which is a massive 183 bars in length, although it is by necessity incomplete; some presumably important missing lines cannot be reconstructed, and these bars are left blank in the score) as well as several short extracts and the 1896 ending of Lemminkäinen’s Return (shorter 40

then the 1897 one, without the concluding Vivacissimo (which was essentially retained in the otherwise much shorter published version). A selection of facsimile pages from the manuscripts is provided and, as we expect in this series, painstaking critical commentaries, source analysis and list of sketches. It is sometimes claimed that the Lemminkäinen Suite is a symphony in all but name. Wicklund points out that this lack of clarity as to the work’s genre dates back at least to the performance on 1st November 1897, as at least one critic described it as a symphony in the next day’s issue of Uusi Suometar (one should, of course, be wary of putting too much trust in a review written presumably in some haste by an unnamed critic). As Ernst Mielck’s F minor Symphony had just been performed in Helsinki, and Karl Flodin wrote about ‘the disappearance of a sense of form among our young composers today’, it is probably safe to assume that such references to symphonic form were a means of throwing down the gauntlet to Sibelius as much as – or even rather than – a comment on the nature of the Lemminkäinen Suite per se.

I

t is paradoxical but true that one of the essential features of a complete critical edition is that it is undiscriminating. Masterpieces such as Tapiola sit alongside the most modest of piano miniatures. Nonetheless, all the JSW volumes are based on exacting scholarship and best musicological practice. In short, when comparing with earlier published editions: if the JSW editors have altered something, their work can and should be trusted. Implicitly. It will, however, be a long time until their work is universally accepted. To some extent this is understandable in the case of conductors who may have used a particular edition for many years and who will be most comfortable using their familiar scores with all their own individual markings and notes. What is surprising, however, is that some orchestral players show surprising unwillingness to change. I recently discussed this with Dr Timo Virtanen, editor-in-chief of the JSW edition, and he explained that with various different orchestras, in some recent performances and recordings of the First Symphony that use the new score (which he himself prepared for publication), the double basses in the finale have refused point blank to play the corrected rhythms at several places. I find such an attitude entirely indefensible, as well as being extremely insulting to Dr Virtanen and his colleagues, who have devoted so much work to getting such details precisely correct.

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Sibelius Première in Brighton Following their highly successful concert at the Finnish Ambassador’s Residence in London on 20th February, Satu Jalas and Folke Gräsbeck reprised part of their programme (the Romance in F major, On the Heath, Tanz-Idylle, Valse, Humoresques and Sonatina) at a concert organized by the Finnish School of Brighton at St Paul’s CE School on 21st February. The concert was introduced by Andrew Barnett and the Society was also represented by George Steven (who had done so much to set up the London concert the previous day) and by Janet and David Abbotts.

Folke Gräsbeck and Satu Jalas in Brighton, 21st February 2013

In place of the F major Sonata we heard two solo piano pieces: the early version of Valse lyrique and the world première concert performance of the Andantino in D major (1889) ‘Till Emma Kristina Marie-Louise Berndtson – Lulu’. The manuscript of this Andantino lay unnoticed in the Eda Kuhn Loeb Music Library at Harvard University until late in 2012, when it came to the notice of Pekka Helasvuo during research into Sibelius’s music for string orchestra. Composed on 28th July 1889, it is typical of the ‘souvenirs’ that Sibelius wrote for family and friends; its rising main theme is also reminiscent of Svendsen’s famous G major Romance from 1881. Like the F sharp minor waltz for cello and piano, JS 194, it is dedicated to ‘Lulu’; the dedication on the manuscript of the piano piece (which contains a blank line for an unspecified melody instrument) permits us to identify her either as Emma Kristina Marie-Louise Berndtson (just five weeks old at the time) – or as the child’s mother, a family friend; or possibly the dedication applies to both. A recording by Folke Gräsbeck of this charming piece is available on BIS-2065. Andrew G. Barnett 42

Recommended Reading Yale University Press · now in paperback

RRP: £14.99

SIBELIUS ANDREW BARNETT

‘A thankfully balanced picture of a deeply contrasted man… immensely informative’ — BBC Music Magazine · ‘A book of great importance: a fresh, evenhanded account of the composer’ — Choice (Current Reviews for Academic Libraries)

Available direct from the UK Sibelius Society:

Sibelius Reflections Edward Clark An inspirational collection of essays from Edward Clark, President of the UK Sibelius Society, the personal response of the author to the music of Sibelius. Price £8 (including postage and packing) Please order your copy from Edward Clark, 51 Vernon Avenue, Wimbledon, London SW20 8BN e-mail: [email protected]

Two engaging novels by Simon Boswell:

The SEVEN SYMPHONIES A series of murders takes place in Helsinki – each one apparently linked to a symphony by Jean Sibelius. Set against a backdrop of the Finnish music world, the story unfolds as a disturbing exploration of sexual obsession and the more disturbing aspects of human sexuality. www.sevensymphonies.com

RRP: £14.95

The ELGAR ENIGMAS A thirteen-year-old autistic girl with extraordinary musical abilities is at the centre of this mystery involving ‘supernatural’ events: is the spirit of the long-dead Elgar using her to convey new masterpieces to us? www.elgarenigmas.com

RRP: £14.95

Available from: amazon.co.uk · waterstones.com · blackwells.co.uk · borders.co.uk In case of difficulty please contact: simon.boswell@siba.fi

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B E Y O N D

S I B E L I U S

Sir William Walton by Peter Frankland

W

illiam Walton is in some respects very much a lone wolf in the annals of British music in the twentieth century, early on revealing a tremendous gift for wit and satire, the influence of Les Six, Stravinsky and jazz never far away. If an English ‘national’ school of music centred itself around Ralph Vaughan William, Walton’s roots were never in the soil of folk song and in some respects he was closer to Elgar – but Walton’s was essentially a twentieth-century voice whereas Elgar, great though he was, had more links to the nineteenth century. Walton, however, succeeded superbly in continuing the Elgar tradition of ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ with wonderful marches like Crown Imperial and Orb and Sceptre. Walton in fact was a great admirer of Edward Elgar: ‘There’s no other English composer to touch him. He’s bigger than Delius, bigger than Vaughan Williams. He’s becoming bigger all the time. Consider his Falstaff; it’s much finer than any of Strauss’s tone poems.’ In the early 1920s a friend related how he met Walton in the gallery of Queen’s Hall: ‘We were listening to Elgar’s Second Symphony. I had a score; we got talking… we found that we both happened to like this Elgar symphony and that we daren’t tell anybody because they would undoubtedly sneer at us.’ The composer Anthony Payne makes a similar point with regard to his admiration for Sibelius and Vaughan Williams: ‘Tastes in London’s new music circles during the 1960s, when I was trying to find my feet as a composer, were dominated by post-Webernian concepts. If you wanted to belong, you spoke of Stockhausen’s and Boulez’s latest achievements. It was not cool to allude to the likes of VW or Sibelius.’ Walton once named his five greatest composers of the twentieth century as Stravinsky, Schoenberg, Debussy, Sibelius and Mahler, with Hindemith and Britten added if seven names were required. Most of these masters have stood the test of time, but I doubt if Paul Hindemith would feature on many lists of the seven greatest today. However, Walton had much to thank him 44

for. Hindemith, a virtuoso on the viola, had given the first performance of Walton’s Viola Concerto on 3rd October 1929 at the Proms, with the composer conducting, and Hindemith was a composer talented enough to receive the Sibelius Prize in October 1955. William Walton [Willie] was born in Oldham, Lancs, in 1902, but from early on he was determined to escape from the dark satanic mills. Both his parents were musical and Walton won a scholarship for choristers at Christ Church, Oxford. He remained at the school for six years (1912–18). Asked why he had begun to compose, Walton answered: ‘I thought I must make myself interesting somehow, or when my voice breaks I’ll be sent back to Oldham. What can I do? Write music, so I did.’ As regards orchestration, Walton was largely self-taught; in 1918 Hugh Allen, who was professor of music at Oxford, introduced the young composer to the mysteries of the orchestra. He played many scores on the organ including Stravinsky’s Petrushka, and this period was invaluable for the budding composer. In 1919 young William Walton met Sacheverell Sitwell, and through him his brother and sister Osbert and Edith. The fruit of this friendship was Façade, originally an entertainment consisting of poems by Edith given through a megaphone and accompanied by a group of seven instruments. In 1926 Walton rescored five of the numbers for orchestra without recitation, and a further six in 1938. Belshazzar’s Feast (1931) brought something new and original to English oratorio. In the early thirties Walton took up the symphonic challenge with his First Symphony (1933–34). Commentators were quick to point out the influence of Jean Sibelius on the symphony, although Walton himself was more reticent on the subject. In a letter written in 1981, Walton stated: ‘On the occasional time I listen to a record of S. 1 I’m always struck by how unlike it is to Sib. In sound and content. There is admittedly more than a slight likeness in the 1st announcement of the 1st theme, especially at the end of the phrase. His music as you say was not much in the Sitwellian world and I got to know it chiefly through Constant and Cecil Gray and became a great enthusiast for some time, still am for that matter’. Walton was never a prolific composer and his music cost him much effort, unlike his friend Malcolm Arnold who could produce quality music at very short notice. Of other major works from Walton’s pen I would mention the Sinfonia Concertante for piano and orchestra (1927), the overture Portsmouth Point (1925), the Violin Concerto 45

(1939) which was first performed by Heifetz in Cleveland, Ohio, and chamber music and songs. Walton also wrote some high-quality film scores including for the screen version of Henry V and one of my favourites, The First of the Few, including the Spitfire Prelude and Fugue. There was a gap of twenty-six years before Walton’s Second Symphony saw the light of day on the 2nd September 1960 in a performance at the Edinburgh festival with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra under John Prichard and, as with Sibelius’s Third, there was some initial disappointment in that Walton’s Second was lighter and much shorter than its predecessor although – as with the Sibelius – it is better scored and it is slower to yield its secrets. There was a gap of eighteen years before Walton produced another large-scale work in 1956, the Cello Concerto. For a number of years Walton had the highest hope that a third symphony would be completed. On 7th February 1973 he wrote in a letter ‘S. 3 I fear is going to be like Sib’s 8, alright for him he’d already done seven’. A month later he wrote to Malcolm Arnold: ‘What marvellous progress about your symphony, I wish I could say the same for mine.’ On 17th April a letter reads: ‘I feel very out of things and work doesn’t progress – far from it – though I’m getting the shape of Sinf. III in my head, but not on paper.’ Rumours of a third symphony persisted. In February 1978 André Previn, referring to the page of score that Walton had sent him in January 1974, remarked: ‘There’s a Third Symphony on the way… I’ve had the first page, with a very kind inscription and dedication, so I’ve duly framed it, but I’m still waiting for further pages.’ But it was not to be, in 1980 he wrote to Previn: ‘My projected Symphony has not responded to treatment and is where it was last time I wrote you, which may be disappointing for you – it certainly is for me.’ Walton retained a close interest in what other composers were doing. When Tippett celebrated his sixtieth birthday, Walton sent for recordings and scores ‘to see what all the fuss is about’. In later years he confessed to being ‘bored blue’ by the recording of King Priam but in 1978 Walton had told a friend he was playing records of Sibelius symphonies – marvellous recordings by Karajan of Symphonies Nos 4, 5, 6 and 7. ‘I’ve not played a note of him for years, what a composer! Constant and Cecil Gray were very right after all.’ To the best of my knowledge, Walton never did go back to Oldham: he had settled in his villa in Ischia on the bay of Naples with his wife Susana (Lady Walton). 46

What did he achieve in a life that began in the cobbled streets of Oldham in 1902? Determined to make something of his life, he became a chorister at Oxford and, with enormous determination, created a body of work that is unique in twentieth-century British music. Walton expressed himself in an international style while keeping an English independence of spirit. Although he admired Schoenberg, he never flirted with atonality. He clearly drew much from Stravinsky, Prokofiev and Sibelius but his music is unmistakably his own and represents a resounding legacy in British music.

Sibelius Events for 2015 Many events marking the 150th anniversary of Sibelius’s birth are already in preparation in Finland and internationally. In Finland, these include the Eleventh International Jean Sibelius Violin Competition (22nd November–3rd December 2015), the Sixth International Jean Sibelius Conference in Hämeenlinna (4th–8th December 2015), the Third International Sibelius Singing Competition in Järvenpää (19th–25th April), the Sibelius & Korpo Festival (July) and an extended Sibelius Festival in Lahti (31st August–6th September). Updated information about these and other events can be found at www. sibelius150.fi.

CDs for sale A complete set of the BIS Sibelius Edition (all 13 boxes) is offered for sale by Robin Self in Framlingham, Suffolk. Any member interested in acquiring these discs is invited to make an offer direct to [email protected]

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www.sibeliussociety.info All membership enquiries and subscriptions should be addressed to: Edward W. Clark 51 Vernon Avenue, Wimbledon, London SW20 8BN e-mail: [email protected] Newsletter correspondence should be addressed to Andrew G. Barnett, 6 Chichester Drive West, Saltdean, Brighton, Sussex BN2 8SH. e-mail: [email protected] (new address!) Articles and letters may be shortened for publication and do not necessarily reflect the Society’s or the Editor’s own views. Some items in this Newsletter are collated from the findings and opinions of several members. If you have any views on recent releases which you would like to have incorporated into the panel’s verdicts, please submit them without delay to the Editor at the Saltdean address above. The Society cannot accept any responsibility for the accuracy or otherwise of any information contained herein and the views and opinions published in this Newsletter are those of the contributors and have been expressed in good faith. The Society will not be liable for any reliance placed on the contents hereof. Printed in England. 48