Program Notes

Berkshire Symphony Orchestra: Pictures Friday, October 16, 2009

Music from Oscar and Lucinda, Edward Scissorhands, Altered State, Close Encounters, and Empire of the Sun, as well as Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition

In the profound experience of seeing through hearing, music and pictures go together quite literally in our minds. The degree to which people have an internal visual experience while hearing music varies widely. The vast majority of any listening audience has a limited ability to “see” sound. Then there are true synesthetes, who, for instance, hear sounds in response to smell, or smell in response to touch, or feel something in response to sight, or about any combination of the senses. While the synesthete might enjoy a light show, both personal and internal to go with music, even the average listener experiences a visual component sometimes. Though only a small portion of the population is truly synesthetic, the rest of us can imagine how this experience might be. Could this be connected to the source of pleasure that music creates in us? Are we hard wired to enjoy art?

These questions could conceivably be answered empirically, but this is not how painters or composers go about things. Artists must content themselves with results. Despite all attempts to find universal values, the artist must still make educated guesses about how to convey ideas and emotions. Pressing an audience’s emotional buttons is not a scientific undertaking. Composers must draw on a musical vocabulary, built over time, to touch the heart of the listener.

Cinema, with its overlapping sensual experiences, one might argue, simulates a synesthetic experience for those without this unique avenue of perception. The overlapping sensual experience available at the movie theater fulfills a human propensity for visual, musical and linguistic stimulation. It would seem that this mix is quite adequate to satisfy a craving (for the type of stimulation we call art?).

More than that seems like less. I remember a disaster movie that attempted to give more of this less by way of “Sense-Around”. Sense-Around, sub-woofers at our feet, shook the seats at the appropriate moments, bringing the earthquake to us. It was in an interesting novelty, but hardly earth shattering, and this particular cinematic masterpiece was none the richer for it. The moving picture wedded with sound can be tweaked but hardly trumped.

Modern audiences, thanks to the emotional and financial clout of film, have become familiar with composers, past and present, in a scope never before dreamed of. This modern artistic patronage system is a source for new music and new ways of looking at music. It also means that modern composers have a shot at becoming known within their own lifetimes.

Even if you are not a film buff, it would be hard not to have heard the music of a certain composer, arranger, conductor of the Boston Pops, Grammy and Oscar recipient. His credits for film music alone would take up most of the space on this program. He has blazed a career as the best known musical moodsmith of his generation, and has a lengthy resume of commissioned work for solo instruments, orchestra and choir. The son of a jazz musician, born in New York and raised in Los 1 Angeles, trained at Juilliard, a veteran of service bands, studios, orchestras and jazz clubs, John Williams’ background prepared him to shine in the world of Western art music in one of its most vivacious American incarnations. He demonstrates an utter ease with the medium with an endless list of memorable and perfectly crafted works. Apparently not satisfied to just fulfill assignments, he shows an unflagging energy producing his own music.

John Williams (b. 1932) “Wild Signals” and “Let There Be Light” from Close Encounters of a Third Kind Close Encounters wasn’t humanity’s first screen meeting with alien beings, but it was one of its most amicable. Up until that time Hollywood aliens were expected to knock down buildings, fry us with ray guns and send us all screaming into the streets. Since the gentle visitors of Close Encounters did not have the wherewithal to use email, they chose to communicate with us on other bandwidths: color and pitch. Although the word synesthesia, “joined perception” did not enter our vernacular, the movie brought the concept into focus in a one stroke. One could say that Williams’ score reinforces the visual impact of the film, or argue that the film offers a backdrop for his music. The aliens were lucky to have Williams convey their peaceful message to a distrustful human race, who, largely untouched by the blessings of the synesthetic gift, needed a great human intermediary.

John Corigliano (b. 1938) “Two Hallucinations for Orchestra” from the film Altered States, I. Sacrifice, II. Hymn Known more for his progressive art music than for movie scoring, John Corigliano’s music is abstract. The piece is not a study in harmony but rather an exploration of what a musician would call “color”.

The composer describes the work thus:

“Three Hallucinations for orchestra, Sacrifice, Hymn and Ritual, are based upon music written for Ken Russell’s film Altered States. Sacrifice depicts the pagan slaying of a seven-eyed goat, superimposed against other images of death (primarily the death of the hero’s father) and sensuality. The movement begins, however, with a slow introduction setting up a trance-like state. This is interrupted by the bleating sound of oboes playing in a highly primitive manner. The motto thus introduced-an ornamented and repeated single note (C)-figures in the development of this movement.

Other ingredients combine with the oboe motive-specifically, an interval relationship (the tritone or flatted-fifth) and a melodic fragment (of the hymn Rock of Ages). A final superimposition of all these ingredients culminates in a gigantic orchestral glissando which ends the movement.

The second movement, Hymn, develops and extends the previously heard fragment of Rock of Ages, fading in and out of a realistic version into more hallucinatory visions. Blurred visions of choral “Amens” (plagal cadences) float like clouds around this music.”

Danny Elfman (b. 1953) “Storytime” from the film Edward Scissorhands The metaphorical Edward, represents the type of person who lives a life wishing he were like everyone else, not allowed to revel in what he actually is. Challenged in some aspects, wildly gifted in others, the fable asks us to be careful about by what measures we judge others, fine advice 2 for any music critic. Elfman’s score provides emotional support for the story rather than painting a portrait. The music is neo-romantic, as indeed is the tale, a story of longing, alienation and redemption.

Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) “Os Justi” from the film Oscar and Lucinda Bruckner at his best offers us a vision of faith, whose source radiates down to us from on high above the Austrian Alps. This a cappella motet has an ethereal quality. In the film, it accompanies the hero as he ascends, from second to first class on the ship Leviathan, to meet with his destiny. The text either confirms his piety, or mocks his weakness. Only as the plot unfolds will we be able to judge for ourselves.

Os justi meditabitur sapientiam, et lingua ejus loquetur judicium. Lex Dei ejus in corde ipsius: et non supplantabuntur gressus ejus. Alleluia.

The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom, and his tongue speaks what is just. The law of his God is in his heart; and his feet do not falter. Alleluia

John Williams (b. 1932) “Exultate Justis” from the film Empire of the Sun John Williams has been called a neo-romantic, and we can all agree that he commands that style, though it does his versatility as a musician and composer little justice. “Exultate Justis” is celebratory and uplifting, promoting the director’s emotional intention. Williams’ score does as much to convey the jubilation of the liberated as much Spielberg’s images do.

Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881) Pictures at an Exhibition

Mussorgsky’s best known work was originally composed for piano in 1874. Serge Koussevitzky commissioned Maurice Ravel to orchestrate this suite in 1922 and it was completed that same year. Ravel's lush orchestration includes three flutes (third doubling piccolo), three oboes (third doubling English horn), two clarinets and bass clarinet, two bassoons and contrabassoon, alto saxophone, four horns, three trumpets, two tenor trombones, bass trombone, tuba, timpani, side drum, bass drum,, whip, rattle, cymbals, triangle, tam-tam, glockenspiel, xylophone, bell, celesta, two harps, and strings.

This partnership between a great conductor and a great orchestrator of the 20th century promoted this 19th century piano piece into one of the best recognized and appreciated orchestral works of the Russian romantic period. In Mussorgsky’s lifetime many of his peers looked down upon him as crude, a cretin who eschewed musical formalism. Though his genius streak was also recognized, it was not until after his death his name surpassed those of many of his critical contemporaries.

Though Ravel was not the only one to rework Pictures for orchestra, this masterwork of arranging is recognized for being true to the intent of the composer. The piece uniquely animates the palette of the mind by way of the ears, helping us to literally see a collection of paintings through the composer’s eyes. Presented as a leisurely stroll through an art gallery this is Mussorgsky's 3 masterful homage to his friend, the painter Victor Hartmann, whose death in 1873 deeply affected Mussorgsky. The fanciful visit to these paintings and drawings includes the movement between the viewings, The Promenade. Historically this visit is not a total fantasy, for Mussorgsky did attend a posthumous exhibition featuring the works of Hartmann. Interestingly though, not all of the items in the music were at the exhibition.

Gnomus — This gnome, designed by Hartmann is a child’s toy in the likeness of a nutcracker, though this one does not conjure the image of the magical prince of Tchaikovsky’s imagining. Mussorgsky/Ravel’s nutcracker is a darker and more grotesque being, more menacing than cute.

Il vecchio castello (The Old Castle)—Among the architectural watercolors that Hartmann composed in Italy, it is interesting that the title did not appear on the list at the exhibition. The alto saxophone stands in for a troubadour singing a solo before its ancient walls.

Tuileries —We reach this picture by way of a Promenade. This is a depiction of the Parisian park, Tuileries, awash with children. The children play, sometimes not so amicably, while their caretakers look on.

Bydlo —The word is Polish for "cattle" and the lumbering quality of the piece describes the movement of an oxcart well enough while the driver sings a plaintive folk tune, melancholy embodied by the solo tuba.

Ballet of Chicks in Their Shells —Hartmann designed ballet costumes and the chicks refer to the children dressed as eggs. The light and fleeting scoring is interspersed with the cluck of the horns. The Ballet is preceded by a short Promenade.

Samuel Goldenberg and Shmuel — The two drawings, A Rich Jew Wearing a Fur Hat and A Poor Jew: Sandomierz were made by Hartmann in Poland and were owned by Mussorgsky. Goldenberg, the rich Pole is given his voice by the strings, while in contrast the poor Russian must make due with the trumpet, tasked with one of most distinctive solos in orchestra literature.

The Marketplace at Limoges — Another one of Mussorgsky’s little vignettes, the marketplace, is a scene filled with people gossiping and arguing. Like Tuileries, it is up to the imagination of the listener to fill in the picture of this lively scene.

Catacombae —There are two sections, Sepulcrum romanum (Roman Sepulchers) and a ghostly transformation of the Promenade Cum mortuis in lingua mortua (With the Dead in a Dead Language). Hartmann, among other figures, appears in this painting below the streets of Paris in a catacomb. The brass inject the beginning with an unmistakably somber, brooding mood. These dissonant chords die wistfully into the caverns of the dead.

The Hut on Fowls' Legs — Mussorgsky, a composer very much caught up with the nationalist sentiments of his time, was inspired by Russian folk themes. In the dark Russian fairytale the witch Baba Yaga chased her victims conveyed by a mortar which conveniently doubles as a means to grind their bones. Ravel’s unique scoring takes us along for a terrifying ride. The painting of a metal clock, shaped like a hut on chicken legs with cocks' heads inspired Mussorgsky to extrapolate on this folk tale. 4 The Great Gate of Kiev — Mussorgsky’s musical rendering of the gates is based on a design for gates of stone, which were never built. To further confuse things, Hartmann’s proposed gate design was decorated with brick. Kiev never had more than wooden gates, which would hardly seem to rate the majestic ode to which Mussorgsky treats us. As if to prove a point, art is not inspired by life, but rather by what the artist what he would like it to become, or what he sees in his mind’s eye. However, these musings pale while we stand at the foot of Mussorgsky’s mighty fortress, a solid Slavic monument adorned by Ravel’s bells. It is one of the unforgettable moments in all of symphonic literature.

-Jonathan Myers

*Thanks to Steven Dennis Bodner for producing two fascinating concerts, “Messiaen Matrix” and "Sounds of Place" at Williams College as well as the program notes regarding synesthesia.

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