Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), Eighth Symphony in F Major, Opus 93
Ludwig van Beethoven’s (1770-1827) Eighth Symphony in F Major, Opus 93, shares a similar fate to that of the Fourth Symphony- being nestled between two of the acknowledged masterpieces of the symphonic genre, they often suffer unjust critical censure when compared to their more substantial neighbors. The Seventh and Ninth Symphonies are undoubtedly among the greatest works in symphonic form ever written, but in Beethoven’s estimation the Eighth Symphony was on par artistically with these masterpieces. Asked by his pupil Carl Czerny why the Eighth Symphony did not arouse the same extraordinary enthusiasm in Viennese audiences as did the Seventh, Beethoven is said to have replied, “That is because it is so much better.”
Beethoven tended to work on numerous compositions simultaneously, and the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies share a common gestational period, in particular during the summer of 1812. This was a critical (and intensely bittersweet) period in Beethoven’s personal life, and his famous letters to the “immortal beloved” are believed to have dated from this summer. A life-long bachelor, Beethoven had what could be considered the only true love affair of his life in conjunction with this shadowy figure, conjectured to be one Antonie Brentano by the Beethoven scholar Maynard Solomon. Perhaps it is fitting that Beethoven and his “beloved” took the secret of her identity to their graves, and we are only left with music that will surely be “immortal.” As Walt Whitman wrote, “… I think there is no unreturn’d love, the pay is certain one way or another… I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return’d, yet out of that I have written these songs.”
The Eighth Symphony was premiered in Vienna on February 27th, 1814, on a concert that also featured the Seventh Symphony and the topical pot boiler Wellington’s Victory. The reviewer from the leading musical periodical of the day, the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung wrote of the Eighth Symphony- “The applause that it received was not accompanied by the enthusiasm which distinguishes a work that gives universal delight… the reviewer is of the opinion that the reason does not lie by any means in weaker or less artistic workmanship, but partly in the faulty judgment which permitted this symphony to follow the (Seventh in ) A Major… if this symphony should be performed alone hereafter, we have no doubt of its success.”
In the standard four movements, the symphony’s first movement is dominated by a jaunty opening theme from which emerges a closely related second theme. In a touch of virtuosic compositional flair (and musical humor) the movement’s first and last bars are the same. This sort of musical joking is reminiscent of Beethoven’s teacher and predecessor Haydn, and in fact the Eighth Symphony is very much in the spirit of this symphonic forbearer as there is no slow movement and the spirit is quite light throughout. The second movement is based on the then recent invention of the metronome, with the woodwinds setting a constant, regular tempo throughout the movement. Instead of another scherzo or a slow movement, Beethoven inserts the classical minuet and trio for the third movement- albeit one in which false downbeats would make graceful dancing impossible! Then symphony ends with a rondo in which lighthearted experiments in dynamics and instrumentation concludes with an extended, spirited coda.
This is Beethoven at his most light-hearted, yet it is the light-heartedness of a genius, with innumerable musical jokes that only reveal themselves after repeated hearings and intense study. Just as the comedies of Shakespeare illuminate a different side of the human condition than do his tragedies, so does the Eighth Symphony show the sense of humor and lightness of an artist who more commonly explored the weightiest issues of mankind. The comedies of Shakespeare are no less masterpieces than the tragedies, as the Eighth Symphony is no less a work of musical genius than the Seventh or Ninth Symphonies which it separates.
Einojuhani Rautavaara (b. 1928), Lintukoto (Isle of Bliss)
“Isle of Bliss is a fantasia written for the orchestra of the Espoo Music Institute in 1995. Most of the motives used in it, especially those of a lyrical nature, reflect the ethos of poetry by Finnish national poet Aleksis Kivi, in so far as I, through my music, have come to understand and view the work of this, the greatest and most characteristically Finnish poet.
“The work is based on Kivi’s interpretation of one of the most essential and long-lasting themes in the poetic tradition, the idea of a peaceful island haven, an ‘isle of bliss’, for which Kivi coined his own term ‘Lintukoto’ (literally ‘bird haven’). My composition does not attempt to portray the poem’s content as such. The poem merely served as a stimulus, a source of inspiration for a piece which fails back not on narrative, but on ‘feel’ or atmosphere.
“Once the form of the work begins to take shape, the music follows its own ‘genetic’ prescription, the dictates of the material itself. Nevertheless, it proceeds in a way analogous to the poem itself: a vitalic and highspirited beginning — carefree and full of optimism — leads into a dreamy, static passage which parallels the mysterious halt in to the flow of time which occurs in the poem, ‘not seeking, nor finding, an answer’. Like the poem, however, the piece arrives once more at an optimistic note and ends with Kivi’s ‘purple sunrise at morning’.” © Einojuhani Rautavaara (translated by © Andrew Bentley)
Zoltán Kodály (1882-1967), Dances of Galánta
Galánta is a small town set on the plains north of the Danube between Bratislava and Budapest. Until the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire at the end of World War I the area was considered part of Hungary, but was ceded to Czechoslovakia during the redrawing of European borders in the aftermath of World War I. As in many areas in Central Europe, Galánta’s population was mixed, with Germans, Slovaks and Hungarians living together (more or less) harmoniously.
Zoltan Kodály moved to Galánta in 1884 at age two and lived there until his tenth birthday. Music was central to Galánta’s identity and renown, with the principal attraction of the town being the famed, long-established gypsy band, who maintained musical traditions easily going back more than a century. These years spent in Galánta were seminal in the musical life of Kodály, who used the indigenous music of his native region as the basis for much of his creative endeavors throughout his long musical life.
Commissioned in 1933 by the Budapest Philharmonic Society to celebrate its 80thAnniversary, Kodály used as a basis for his composition Magyar dances collected in the early years of the 20th Century in Galánta and published in 1904 in Vienna. The verbunkos dances were at the heart of the gypsy music, and developed in the 18th Century as a means of recruiting soldiers into the army. They were taken up wholeheartedly by native gypsy ensembles and many of the features of the verbunkos dance form and Magyar music in general found their way into the Dances of Galánta- syncopation, abrupt juxtaposition of slow and fast passages and plangent melodies.
The Dances of Galánta consist of five distinct dances, played without break and preceded by an introduction featuring an expressive cello melody. The music is unmistakably Hungarian and unmistakably composed by Kodály, with his typically deft orchestration and folk-like style.
