The Planets (1920)
Gustav Holst 1874-1934
The major orchestral work on tonight’s program is the creation of a relatively obscure English composer. But, “obscure” is a misleading word. Gustav Holst (1874-1934) was a leading music educator and performer in Edwardian England. Close friends with Ralph Vaughan-Williams and contemporary with Igor Stravinsky, William Walton, and Maurice Ravel, Holst was part of a tight knit community of composers that were exploring musical orchestrations beyond the penultimate romanticism of Richard Wagner, Richard Strauss, and Gustave Mahler.
Holst came from a long line of musicians, played the trombone professionally and attended the Royal College of Music at the same time as Ralph Vaughan-Williams. Holst’s dad, however, was disappointed when young Gustav decided on a career of composition… echoing the quote from “Amadeus”, “there is no money in composition”. In both instances, it was true. Holst quickly made his money and reputation with his day job—teaching, performing, and creating musical groups. Holst, leaving Wagner and Strauss behind, became enamored with the rising tide of new Nationalism, using the folk idioms and tunes from his country as the basis for many of his early compositions. Holst also opened doors into new genres for serious composers, with his classic Two Suites for Military Band putting band composition on the radar for later composers.
While Holst composed for a variety of musical ensembles and his music gained popularity in England in the early 20th Century, it was not until the release of the Planets (premiered in November of 1920) that he gained an international audience. Holst continued to compose into the later 1920s, but never regained the staying power that the Planets represented. Suffering from stomach ulcers, he had to cut a teaching stint at Harvard short to return home. He never regained his health and passed away in 1934 following an operation for that ulcer.
Like all good Edwardian English gentlemen, Holst was fascinated by things exotic. After all, England controlled 25% of the world at this time, so many multicultural influences came into vogue. It was on a trip to Spain before the Great War that Holst became enthralled with the practice of Astrology. He toyed with the idea that he could create musical mood pieces for each of the Roman gods who governed the astrological heavens. So, first item of note, The Planets are NOT astronomical inspirations, but astrological ones, buried deep in the mythos of the classical world.
Holst’s daughter, who wrote his biography, pointed out that her dad never liked the major symphonic forms of the Romantic era, so shied away from symphonies. However, after hearing a set of loosely related pieces by German composer, Arnold Scheonberg, Holst decided he would try this separate, but unified framework. The Planets are best thought of as a series of music tone poems, each unique in character.
Another item of note: For its day, the Planets used innovative orchestration and musical harmonic structures. Many of the older critics thought Holst’s work was too contemporary and rough. Imagine what they would say about the works of Stravinsky and Alban Berg, both writing at the same time. As in many things, quality and engagement trump the critics and The Planets has been recorded over 80 times to become part of the symphonic repertoire for the past 100 years.
Mars, the Bringer of War
Mars was moved to the opening movement because it grabs the listener! It begins with a relentless ostinato (repeated rhythmic pattern to create unity and forward motion). For musicians, the meter is 5/4. The 5 five beats to the measure is aggressive, and moves us forward, but with a feeling of tension and confusion, just like war. Harmonically and melodically clashing, the relentless and unpredictable ostinato and melodic treatment create tension and movement. Loud, contrary, and unpredictable, Holst paints a picture of the chaos of war.
Venus, the Bringer of Peace
This is neither the seductive nor the playful “Venus”. Holst depicts the Goddess of Love as the opposite of war and chaos. The movement is slow, relaxed and creates a sense of calmness and peace. In style, it borders on the “pastoral” orchestration and development that so characterized Ralph Vaughan Williams musical depictions. Rich orchestration, rich colors, and a series of melodic treatments calm us down after “Mars” so violently attacked us.
Mercury, the Winged Messenger
Mercury is not a character as much as an activity. Movement, constant movement, sets the mood throughout. This is a tone poem that exudes hyperactivity. There are melodic ideas introduced, presented again as fragments, and sometimes even juxtaposed over each other while still maintaining their original contrasting tonality (bitonality). As ideas flit here and there, the entire movement is moving, like a hyper toddler, smiling and constantly entertaining.
Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity
Jupiter is the grand overseer, beneficent and positive to all those around him. Once again, Holst sets an intense, joyous mood with busy ostinatos driving the opening forward. But, this is also a musical depiction of contrasts. There are distinctive melodies that bind this movement together. Grand, heroic moments are interspersed with contrasting melodies that unify the sections. The orchestration is brilliant and fully engaging throughout. There is a middle section that was so popular and lyrical that within a year, it was adopted into a stand-alone hymn-song, “I Vow to Thee, My Country”. Holst never saw this tune as a hymn, and his own recordings do not treat this section with any particular reverence. However, the lyrics, with religious and patriotic overtones, had staying power. In 2019, “I Vow to the Thee, My Country" was voted Britain’s 6th most favorite hymn. After this middle section, Holst returns to the energy and excitement of the opening that leads to a massive finale.
Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age
While this was Holst’s favorite movement of the entire Suite, it does take a bit of listener intention to engage. The movement begins with an almost sad, yet ominous, repeated motif-a clock ticking relentlessly onward. Since this writer is old, I was not liking where this may be going. But, like a mature person seemingly locked in the stillness of our todays, meaning and depth come from reminiscing. Past accomplishments, contributions, trials, and victories- the music shows that completeness of today rests on the richness, struggles, and victories of our past. The growing richness, structure, and power of the opening motif is a reminder that our maturity is the culmination of our sometimes unsung, but great contributions. Like a majestic victory processional, our accomplishments create a progression of nobility that grew over time. The theme is that the past gives meaning to the present, and the opening motif returns again. This time it is not ominous or sad, but tranquil, reminding us of a life well lived.
Uranus, the Magician
Wake, up! Someone important has entered the room! Which is what the magician wants you to believe. After the bold, attention getting intro, the bassoons start up a jaunty, but slightly awkward (sorry bassoons…the theme, not you) tune. This type of mood orchestration using low woodwinds in a bouncy theme was famously introduced by Gounod’s Funeral March of the Marionettes (1872). The jauntiness is moved around the orchestra, developed until a more heroic, but still slightly awkward, theme is brought in by the brass. After a dramatic transition, the jaunty tune is hinted at again, and then the march continues, punctuated by asymmetrical flourishes, further impressing us with the Wizard-behind-the-Curtain idea. A moment of mystic mood hints at real magic, but is then drowned out as the jaunty and the heroic takes us to the last finale.
Neptune, the Mystic
Neptune is a very unusual way to end a suite. No heroics, fast tempos, or memorable tunes. The entire mood is to transport the listener to another reality. A “mystic” is someone who lives in a spiritual state that allows visions of into different worlds. Beginning slowly and softly, a motif, rather than a melody, sets the mood of a far-away time and space. Orchestration that uses unusual instruments to further the ethereal, grows in complexity but never varying it’s sedate movement to a visionary place. Alto flute, bass oboe, celeste, two harps, and choir are all used as color and sound effects. The feeling of “otherness” is only enhanced when the unusual off-stage choir creates the feeling of another world connecting to ours. But, this connection becomes more and more tenuous as the piece progresses. Holst uses the orchestra to give the feel that our time and space are fading, in the distance, as we move to another universe.
Hungarian Dances for Orchestra, No. 1 (1874)
Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
Bright and lively are not descriptors usually associated with Johannes Brahms. A master and loved in his own day, Brahms is especially appreciated by the musical elite for his amazing use of chord progression and orchestral color. But, tonight, we are presenting a different side of Brahms. Fun and energetic dances based on Hungarian themes, Brahms originally composed 21 of these dances for piano. Their popularity was such that Brahms orchestrated three of them and they’ve become an orchestral staple since their premier.
Trumpet Concerto (1950)
Alexander Arutiunian (1920-2012)
Alexander Arutiunian was born in Armenia. Armenia, like Finland, is a smaller country that powerful neighbors felt they had a right to control. Persian, Roman, Ottoman Turks, and in Arutiunian’s day, Soviet Russia, all felt they could control the destiny of Armenia. In modern times, the Turks tried to wipe out the entire people, which made the incoming Soviet Union look like a better dictator.
Arutiunian lived his earlier childhood under the brutal Soviet regime. For up-and-coming artists, this meant Soviet control of their artistic output. You may be familiar with the “political officers” that were attached to every Soviet military unit. Artists were also monitored for conformity to the government standard of building up the Soviet community. This meant control of musical exploration if you chose to remain in Stalin’s Russia. Many left, but Arutiunian, like Prokofiev and Khachaturian, stayed and conformed.
Trained in Armenia and later the Moscow Conservatory, Arutiunian was a noted composer in the USSR. A list of his compositions show that he worked well within the Soviet system, but he was also allowed to explore the use of folk tunes and idioms from his native Armenia.
Tonight’s Trumpet Concerto was originally begun in 1943 for a promising Armenian trumpet player. Unfortunately, the trumpet player was killed during the war. It wasn’t until 1950 that Arutiunian finished the work and it received its premier.
Seven smaller sections are linked together to make a continuous, delightful piece. Each movement reflects different energies and colors as one mood blends into the next of which many are derived from Armenian folk idioms.
The piece opens with tension, highlighting an improvisation mood in the solo trumpet. This is followed by an energetic, joyful dance-like section. Before we get exhausted, we enter a more tranquil section, introduced by the clarinet. The soloist takes over the development as the orchestration moves to a richer, lush feel reminiscent of Borodin. Playfulness returns, and then alternates with more tranquil sections. An intense Shostakovich-like treatment of the orchestra leads to an extended cadenza (soloist only, with an improvised feel, displaying their virtuosity) followed by a quick, dramatic finale statement in the orchestra.
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