Symphony 2 | |
Fourth
movement and Conclusion - Graham Saxby
Introduction . Movements 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 and Conclusion The first impression of this movement is of a vast
time-scale (it actually should last about 17 minutes), a broad sweep of vision and an
intensity of emotion that at times borders on the apocalyptic. Although, as already
noted, this movement has some of the appearances of formal construction, with episodes
and returning thematic material which give it some of the character of a Mahler
sonata-rondo, this is a very general and somewhat misleading description. It is a strongly
unified movement, though much of its thematic materiel is plainly drawn from other
movements, particularly the first. The opening phrase occurs a great many times during the movement. The ascending scale which forms its second part is sometimes a simple major scale and sometimes minor, and occasionally a kind of quasi-diatonic scale that is neither, as for example in bar 721. It presents us with something of an enigma. It appears before each new episode, but it appears in many other places too. MacDonald suggests that it is a punctuation mark and also a heightener of tension; but for either purpose the phrase seems curiously unsatisfactory. Its banality contrasts oddly with the nobility of the music it so frequently interrupts. But perhaps that is the effect the composer had in mind, he was capable of being an "awkward cuss" in his music just as in his life. Be that as it may, the frequent repetition of this fussy little phrase serves not so much to increase tension as to provoke irritation. It seems to have been one of Brians rare miscalculations. The opening bars of the funeral march are almost exactly the same as the passionate outburst which concludes the first movement, and are clearly derived from the opening of the symphony. The theme is first played on clarinets, to a bleak accompaniment in bare 5ths by harp and pizzicato strings. The theme ends with a series of falling tritones. and a solo horn adds a codetta like a sad reminiscence of the scherzo rhythm, in funeral march rhythm. A new theme in the brass is cut off by the opening phrase
and an upward-striving variant of the funeral march leads to the "Götterdämmerung"
passage, where reiterated chords, fortissimo, alternate with the opening of the
funeral march. At bar 726 an episode marked "Grandioso breaks in; it is none
other than the "passionate outburst" transformed, combined with inversions and
imitations, and with a glittering semiquaver accompaniment on flutes, cors anglais and
strings divisi. These four bars are another example of the astonishing orchestral effects
Brian was capable of creating. The funeral march continues with the funeral march again
metamorphosed, leading into a new episode. But the most lavish of setpieces must burn out, saving only empty shells. The music begins to disintegrate. The themes break into fragments, caught by small groups of instruments. The clarinets tritonal descent is heard again, and quietly turned into a perfect 5th by the lower strings; and as they mutter the movement's opening phrase for the last time the few remaining instruments, including timpani, confirm the bare 5th E minor with which the symphony began. Conclusion What does the score tell us of Brian the symphonist at
this point in his life? As with other composers who have extended an existing tradition,
Brian had, like Newton, stood on the shoulders of giants. In Brians case the giants
were the composers in the late 19th century Romantic tradition such as Elgar and Richard
Strauss: echoes of these, as well as Wagner and Mahler, can clearly be heard in the themes
of the Second Symphony. But as we have seen, his roots go back much farther in time, to
the contrapuntal lines and the modes of Tallis and his predecessors. It shows us how a formal sonata movement can be transformed without losing its essential nature as Bartok and Hindemith were also showing, in their own way. It shows how counterpoint can be extended in concept to become so free and independent as to be truly heterophonic, without losing its basic musicality as Ives and Schoenberg were showing, also in their own way. It shows us the path Brian was following towards new ways of treating diatonicism, in which even a scale of C major can be made to sound strange and disturbing, as Sibelius and Vaughan Williams were also doing in their rather more traditional way; and it goes further, showing us that new and exciting music can be written with scales that are not merely diatonic but restricted to a few notes. It shows how a knowledge of the effects of mixing different timbres and pitches, combined with an extraordinary ability to construct an edifice of sound in the head and write it down with precision, can enable a composer to widen the limits of timbre and texture in orchestral music to an unprecedented extent. It shows, too, that it is possible to write funeral music that is utterly English, containing no concessions to Teutonic idiom, yet of a grandeur that fits it to stand alongside that of the German masters. But, perhaps most important of all, it shows that a composer of sufficient talent and doggedness can thumb his nose at the rest of the musical world and write a symphony of genius without any expectation of public performance. That the music was, indeed, not performed until 41 years after its composition was our loss, not Brian's. I should like to thank Graham Hatton of Musica Viva, who kindly lent me photocopies of the preliminary draft and autograph full score of the symphony, and Malcolm MacDonald for permission to make use of material from his book "The Symphonies of Havergal Brian, volume one, symphonies 112". 981120 Havergal Brian - the official website HOME |