There are three main factors which contribute to the unity of this section of the Symphony, and mark it off as distinct from the rest of the work. The first is the frequency of semiquavers in the music; indeed, they contribute greatly to its sound world and are rarely absent. The second factor is the way in which the music is organized, in that there are three chordal points in the section, each of which divides up the music into three compartments; the second chord is an expanded re-scoring of the first one, a semitone lower, whereas the last presentation hints at a triadic resolution of the harmonic tensions of the music, before returning to a more ambiguous harmony at bar 56.

These three events stand out all the more clearly in relief from the predominant semiquaver motion preceding them. The third unifying factor is perhaps the strongest of all. Brian’s treatment of the orchestra isvery tightly organized; melodic lines are almost always given to low instruments (as in the tuba idea starting at bar 5), an exception being where the glockenspiel, at bars 36-37, and later at bars 40-43 with pizzicato first violins, plays a series of crotchets whose intent, indeed, is more the outlining of a scale than a cantabile melody. The strings play mostly semiquavers, the woodwinds and brass, chords, with a few departures. These associations help to present the musical materials as clearly as possible, and one could use Brian’s terminology in describing their roles: the strings mostly ‘horizontal’, the winds ‘vertical’.

The music is narrative rather than dramatic, in that it is concerned with a sense of flow, a continuous onward movement, rather than being built as a series of juxtapositions of disparate textures creating conflict. The chords do not interrupt the semiquavers; rather, they are the outcome of the build-up (whether dynamic or registral) before their arrival. They are the three cumulative points of the section, but in this sense the music promises more than it delivers, in that the first two climaxes are quickly deflated (being marked fpp).

The third chordal event is concerned less with climax than resolution but, as has been noted, it doesn’t fully deliver on that level either. These are considerations which override the sectional divisions, and one can say that the true climaxes do not come until the first part of section 3. Another element which suggests future events is the appearance, on two successive occasions, of a trumpet fanfare (marked ‘in the distance, remote’ in the second copy of the full score), suggestive of a human element otherwise absent from section 1of the symphony. The melodic or motivic content of this first section is certainly not ‘vocal’; in this sense, again with the exception of the associations suggested by the fanfares, this Prologue is instrumental music of great purity.

It is a music suggestive of place rather than character, a consideration supported by the dynamic comings and goings. The associations of the trumpet fanfare, in the distance, add mystery to the atmosphere and, if one wishes, one can ‘interpret’ the high octave As as piercing birdcalls, the timpani rolls as portents of a future storm, the harp arpeggios as ripples on the surface of a lake (caused by the rising wind, in semiquavers).

Doubtless the music would suggest different associations to different listeners. To this listener, the spacing in the music (the rests before chords, the crescendi and diminuendi, and the fanfare, as well as the sheer distance between top and bottom at the beginning) is suggestive of geographic as well as temporal distance, and the cold landscape of the semiquaver-dominated music contrasts very strongly with the warmer, chordal sounds in which those ‘cold’ passages culminate. What is important is that although the chords are the audible outcome of the preceding music, the change in orchestral timbre is startling, and contributes greatly to the mysterious, atmospheric effect of the Section.

Perhaps it is against this foreknowledge of imminent catastrophe that the shadows, contrasting colours and distances of what I have called the ‘Prologue’ can be said to operate. Brian’s eighth symphony, for example, could be called a ‘tragic’ work, although he chose not to attach a subtitle to that particular symphony, perhaps for the reason that its jarring juxtapositions and funereal opening mark it out very clearly, from the outset, as a tragic work.

On the other hand, it is unlikely that one would correctly associate the Wagner overture with the particular legend of the Flying Dutchman, although its stormy character is unmistakable, were one not told the title of the work before listening to it. Brian’s use of the subtitle clearly plants a preconception in the listener’s mind, and this, in combination with the fanfare, the long ‘vocal’ melody which stands, on its two appearances, as the twin centre of the piece, and the battle sounds of the first part of section 3, gives the work its character.

It is a tragic work, but the tragedy is general, or universal, rather than particular or personal. The ‘imaginary landscape’ of section 1 is impersonal, but not totally so (on account of the fanfare), and even though it hints at the violence to come, its singular character and atmosphere separate it from the main body of the Symphony, and this justifies the appellation ‘Prologue’.

This is music which is unified by its use of sharp contrasts. There are three upheavals in the section, each of which pushes the music to extremes, whether of register, dynamics or thematic intensification. The first occurs at bars 64-65, and in its extreme violence rids the music of all the flats and moves the harmonic plane over to the sharp side. Although it effects harmonic change, it is not transitional, but abrupt and dismissive. Its crudity makes the strongest possible contrast with the music on either side of it. The second and third upheavals are less abrupt, and are closely related to one another.

These three climaxes continue the thread from the first section (along with the thematic recurrence mentioned above) by leading the listener closer still to the climactic eruptions of section 3, part one. The music just about stops short (at bar 92) of completely delivering what it has promised; the violence has come very clearly into focus, but has not (as yet) reached its peak. Brian doubtless pulled the reins back at this point because he considered it too soon for the work to reach its climax, and by introducing breathing spaces, and thematic and emotional contrast and respite, succeeds in enlarging the expressive scope of the symphony and prevents it from sounding too compressed. He uses temporal spacing to increase the comprehensibility of the symphony, and by so doing allows the cumulative Section 3 ‘battle’ sequence to assume its maximum power.

The cor anglais melody which begins the section, being the first melodic idea presented by a woodwind instrument, introduces a new, more human expression to the symphony. Its repeated, tolling Ebs and the downward melodic turn at the end express sorrow, prompting one to make the connection, if one wishes, between this idea and Deirdre herself. The descending minor scale and the ensuing unisons for cor anglais and two flutes confirm this mood.

One can speculate that this ‘represents’ the martial and the human in direct conflict, but what is important is that the perfect fourth on which it ends (and on which the cor anglais and two flutes lament had ended as well) leads to an intensified treatment of the cor anglais idea, eventually pushing the registers apart and culminating in the return of the ‘landscape’ music of the Prologue. The music, by this time impersonal, becomes harsh with the semitonal clashes of the entries of the tuba motive from section 1 at bar 84.

Of note at this point is the first entry of the three side drums, further adding to the harsh tone of the music and providing another sound with military associations (again, one can, if one chooses, regard the side drums’ entry as an interesting addition purely in terms of timbre). The bare fifth at the end is very harshly scored, and is an ‘open’ sound on account of the registral disposition (mostly high and low, very little in between) and the fact that the highest note is the fifth (B) rather than the root (E).

The cymbal also returns at bar 84 to enhance the semitonal clash implied in the entry of the oboes and trumpets at that point (and later at bar 86). To this listener, its subsequent absence until bar 92 (and that of the side drums) is very effective, in that one expects it to come crashing in at the highpoint (a fact which ensures the passage cannot register as the true climax of the work). Indeed, it does not return until the beginning of the ‘Battle’ section.

This section constitutes not so much a succession of events (which could be said of the first section) as a succession of juxtapositions, of a very violent nature (particularly the first upheaval). It is made all the more abrupt by the complete absence of transition. It is line which is more important than harmony (indeed, in one sequence (bars 70-75) moving chords become moving parts), and this sense of line gives the music its strong sense of direction and onward movement. As a result of this single-mindedness and direct (not to say abrupt or crude) presentation, the music, in strong contrast to section 1, does not have any sense of mystery; it is clearly music of conflict, and it creates the need for breathing space in the next section on account of its harsh, violent expression.

The music of this subsection is presented in a processional manner; it consists of a succession of distinct, and distinctive units, marked off from one another orchestrally, yet linked as a chain of related, though diverse, events by subtle connections of register, dynamics and general musical character. Although the music stands clearly as a succession of events, it is also developmental. Ideas (both musical and philosophical) from the earlier parts of the symphony are moved forward and presented in new guises, so that while the music may well be considered as an extended interlude from the tragic drama of both earlier and later parts of the work (thus the ‘breathing space’ referred to above), it also develops the purely musical argument, albeit in a subtle and low-key manner.

It begins by looking back, both in terms of pitch (starting with the bare fifth (E-B) which brought the last section to a halt), as well as musical character (a fanfare followed by birdlike calls on solo flute, which together with the spacing of the bare fifth evoke once again a sense of landscape, a sense similar to that evoked in the Prologue). This changes the tone of the Symphony, moving away from the harshness of the preceding music towards the more impersonal mode of expression found at earlier points of the work (the Prologue in particular).

The use of three side drums and bass drum as markers of the slow march complements this effect, as well as providing a subtle link with the use of these instruments in the previous pact of section 2 (and hinting, in subdued fashion, at their explosive use in part one of section 3). Incidentally, Brian maximizes their re-entry in the later section by silencing them until then, a choice which greatly enhances the calmer motion of the music under discussion. The forward-looking instrumental colour again underlines the processional aspect if the music and, indeed, acts as a rhythmic marker in a percussive way, thus subtly compensating for the absence of the three side drums and bass drum.

The use of harp, violas, celli and basses in crotchet rhythm and parallel motion acts as a link with the first harmonization of the long melody that occupies a twin central position in this symphony. It is, again, a rather cold, impersonal sound; it is in this manner that Brian keeps his ‘military’ or ‘martial’ thread alive; it switches, for the duration of this span, from violent foreground to unobtrusive yet distinctive background, and strongly colours the character of the music as a consequence.

Brian’s two presentations of the long melody contrast strongly, while at the same time offering some interesting points of comparison. The accompaniment to the first version starts out as a processional, and moving in parallel motion, only to switch (at bar 120) to alternating brass and woodwind support, both joining together at bar 128, before three bassoons accompany the entry of a solo french horn at bar 129.

These changes in instrumental accompaniment not only provide variety, but rather more significantly substitute a more chordal support for the martial accompaniment above which the melody had started. The chords at the end are offering harmonic background, in sharp contrast to the greater independence of the parallel chords in harp and low strings; the effect is of moving closer to a triadic harmony for the melody, which is where the second version of it clearly starts out. If one can refer to the first version of the melody as being ‘on’ E whether major or not (the hint of major is there, especially in bar 115 in violins, where the triad is presented horizontally in the melody), the second version is, at its opening particularly, ‘in’ E major.

The music between these twin versions of the melody, at the heart of this symphony, is transitional in intent and effect, but it is a transition achieved in blocks rather than by degrees. By treating ideas found earlier in the work in a new way, it moves the musical argument forward by developing those ideas. The music from bars 133-152 is concerned with canonic entries of different versions of the cor anglais melody first heard at the beginning of section 2.

The first series of entries occurs on solo woodwinds over a bass line moving in steady crotchets, harking back to the steady crotchets which accompanied the three ‘unison but solo’ flutes heard earlier. Changed though the melody is (the first note repeated five times instead of ten; a leap upwards of a perfect fourth instead of the earlier minor third), it is clearly recognizable, and acts as a strong tie with the earlier music on this account. The string passage which follows features two more versions of the melody, each treated canonically, but the music is chordal and more static, rather than contrapuntal and processional. This in turn is followed by another short passage using the flute (this time solo) over a bass, moving, once again, in crotchets. The oboe plays an E as a central pedal point, preparing the way for the clear E major treatment of the long melody to come.

This thematic recall serves to forge a link forward as well as backward, because it hints at the return, not only of impersonal, but harsh music, such as has not been heard since the high notes were last heard (at bar 75, as Gs). However, the closing bars of this section are given to a new, long and lyrical cello melody, which eventually lands on a perfect fifth on D (bar 208), linking back to the end of the first part of this section (bar 92), followed by a harp arpeggio which spells out D minor with a prominent E, culminating in a pizzicato D minor chord on violins over a sustained D pedal in cellos.

This return to more impersonal music at the end (the cello melody becomes a bass line at the end, moving from the personal to the impersonal, or from the vocal to the instrumental) means that the silence above the cellos’ D is an uneasy one. The E in the harp’s pattern also contributes to this atmosphere of unease. The presence of the harp also makes a strong link with the Prologue, where it figured prominently.