Tuesday, November 06, 2012

The Romantic Art Song - Program Notes for a Song Recital

The song for a single voice with instrumental accompaniment (usually a keyboard) was a genre with a lowly status throughout the 18th century. None of the major composers of the Classical period, including Gluck, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, devoted much of their creative energy to writing songs outside of theatrical or liturgical settings, music considered to be unworthy of serious pursuit. Songs demanded by the public of this time are characterized by a transparent but simplistic, almost naïve, quality, which makes them charming and very accessible, but closer in spirit to folksongs than to pieces for serious artistic expressions. The dozens of Scottish folksongs arranged by Haydn and Beethoven bear witness to the popularity of simple songs in continental Europe during this time.

It was not until the following century when the artistic value of the song was perceived to be at the same level as those of the symphony, grand opera, oratorio, and string quartet. Early Romantic composers such as Schubert and Mendelssohn realized the potential of this medium, and transformed it from a genre intended for the middle-class amateurs into a vehicle for expressing the sublime. The musical qualities that distinguish the serious art song from the popular recreational song of the time include the unity of the music and the text, the equality of the vocal and piano parts, and the grouping of multiple songs together into a coherent cycle for expressing an idea. The three sets of songs by Debussy, Wolf, and Schumann we present this evening are good examples illustrating these hallmarks of the Romantic song, one of the greatest musical achievements of the 19th century.

Unity of Music and Text: Debussy’s Ariettes Oubliées 

One ideal the Romantic song composer strives for is to write music that perfectly embodies the images and feelings suggested by the poem. Music functions not only to enhance the emotions expressed by the poet, but also to clarify any details or implied meanings behind the words. This ideal of song composition, obvious as it may seem to us, is a milestone in the history of song given that in many songs composed in the 18th century, the relationship between music and text could be very shallow, if not entirely absent. This is especially so for strophic songs in which successive stanzas portraying different imageries could be set to the same music. The lyric poets of the time such as Goethe and Heine in Germany wrote verses of sufficient emotional depth that became the perfect raw materials for the talented composers for their musical creations.

In France, Paul Verlaine (1844-1896) was one of the fin-de-siècle poets who became a champion of the Symbolist movement. The symbolist poets never explicitly or precisely describe a scene or an image, but design verses with “symbols” (i.e., the words) meant to subtly elicit moods or feelings. They believe that a poem should represent truths that can only be led to indirectly through metaphors, or even just the sound of the words. The suggestive power of the symbolist poems naturally makes them the ideal texts to be set to music by composers like Debussy, who was adept in creating musical colors by manipulating harmony, rhythm, texture, and scale. In his setting of six Verlaine poems in the song cycle Ariettes Oubliées, Debussy achieves perfect unity of music and text through musical nuances that magnify the evocative power of Verlaine’s words. For instance, in the first song, C’est l’extase langoureuse, subtle shades of harmony brings the listener to the world of sensuality and languor, while in the second song, Il pleure dans mon cœur, the monotonous note patterns in the piano, played with mute throughout, imparts perfectly the melancholic mood felt under a grey sky with constant drizzle. Here, Debussy’s music is as fluid, sensuous, and hypnotizing as Verlaine’s poetry.

Equality of the Voice and Piano: Songs by Hugo Wolf

In the 19th-century song repertory, the nature of the piano accompaniment sets the serious, artistic songs for connoisseurs apart from the simpler songs intended for the amateurs. The popular songs consisted mostly of simple, sometimes rigid, accompanimental patterns serving only to provide a harmonic foundation to the vocal melody. The art songs, by contrast, gave the piano an expressive weight equivalent to that of the voice. By this time, the piano was equipped with the mechanisms for producing more resonant and legato tones within a much wider dynamic range, so that it could mimic orchestral sound effects in addition to providing guitar-like accompaniment. It was also becoming a popular household instrument in the emerging middle class. It was thus sensible for composers to exploit this convenient yet flexible instrument (instead of, for instance, a string quartet that requires four accomplished players) to serve their artistic need of writing music adequately expressive for their chosen texts.

One recurring theme in lyric Romantic poems is the portrayal of how the feelings and emotions of a protagonist are affected by powerful external forces from nature, history or society. Naturally, in a song, the singer is often responsible for conveying personal feelings while the piano supplies music illustrative of the surroundings. Wolf, the late-Romantic pro-Wagnerian lieder composer, derives much of his expressive power in his songs from his dense keyboard writing. In Sie blasen zum Abmarsch from the Spanish Songbook, a village girl is saddened by the departure of her lover, presumably for a military mission. The piano part not only depicts the context of the story with sounds of trumpet calls and drums, but also clarifies the girl’s pain with a chromatic interlude supported by low notes. In the justly famous In dem Schatten meiner Locken, also from the Spanish Songbook, the constant Bolero rhythm in the piano part is essential not only in setting up a somewhat amusing mood for the mischievous protagonist to wonder whether she should wake her lover up, but also in spicing the whole song up with an exotic flavor. In Storchenbotschaft from Mörike Lieder, Wolf even inserts an extended bravura passage for the piano as a postlude to depict how the storks merrily fly away after delivering the message to the poor shepherd that his wife gave birth to twins, ironically reminding the listener, through the storks’ apparent oblivion to the shepherd’s feeling, of how perplexed he must be by this news.

Expressing an Idea through a Cycle: Schumann’s Liederkreis

Grouping multiple songs together into a single set was not a new idea in the 19th century. Song collections have a history probably as long as that of the song itself. But before Beethoven and Schubert, who pioneered the concept of composing song cycles, songs published within a set often have little relationship with each other besides originating from the same composer or the same poet. The early Romantic composers realized how the lowly genre of song could be made a medium for expressing the sublime by concatenating interrelated songs together. The songs can have the same protagonist, or have the same poetic theme behind the text, or have a loose narrative structure so that when sung together, they approximate a coherent story. In the ideal Romantic song cycle, however, this grouping of songs is different from a multi-movement symphony, sonata, or string quartet, in that each song can still function as an independent musical entity. In the words of Charles Rosen,

The song cycle is the embodiment of a Romantic ideal: to find – or to create – a natural unity out of a collection of different objects without compromising the independence or the disparity of each member. By a “natural” unity I mean one which is not imposed in advance by convention or tradition: the large form must appear to grow directly from the smaller forms, and this preserves their individuality (The Romantic Generation, p. 212). 

Schumann clearly understood this principle. In his cherished song cycle Liederkreis (literally meaning “circle of songs”) based on poems by Eichendorff, each song, despite its brevity, can be readily appreciated and performed individually. In fact, during Schumann’s lifetime the Liederkreis was almost never performed together as a whole. But the twelve songs in the cycle nonetheless share the same theme of expressing a sentiment of distance and longing through the words of a wanderer in the forest. Schumann also took pain to cohere the songs further with a careful tonal scheme. The cycle begins with the elegiac In der Fremde in F-sharp minor, then progresses to the exciting sixth song Schöne Fremde in B major, and ending with the ecstatic Frühlingsnacht in F-sharp major. According to Graham Johnson, Schumann himself realized the possibility of constructing a unified cycle from these songs only after he composed them individually (liner notes for The Songs of Robert Schumann – 10, p. 7). The fact that the Liederkreis was a result of an “after-the-fact imposition of wishful symphonic thinking on to the Lied” probably explains why each individual song in the cycle still sounds musically satisfying and convincing.

 - Vincent C. K. Cheung

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Beethoven's Ninth from Two Hong Kong Secondary Schools: A Review

A Review of

Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125, Fourth Movement
Karen Ka, soprano; Erica Lowe, alto; Dennis Lau, tenor; Frankie Fung, bass
Choirs and Orchestras of the Belilios Public School and Wah Yan College, Kowloon
conducted by Woo Zun Hin
Choral coaches: Lillian Mak, Lesley Ka-Hei Chan

May 14, 2011



No other piece in the history of Western classical music has been subject to as much political interpretation as Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Beethoven's employment of choral forces singing Schiller's "An die Freude" ("Ode to Joy") in the finale makes it possible to argue how this symphony may explicitly represent different symbols, ideals, or ideologies. Even back in the 19th century, Edgar Quinet described the Ninth as the "Marseillaise of humanity." During the First World War a French novelist asserted how the Ode should be a hymn of the Allies, and how it belongs to the world except the "criminal Germany." Then, to celebrate the reunification of Germany in 1990, the Ninth was performed under the baton of Bernstein who took the liberty to substitute "Freiheit" (freedom) for "Freude" throughout Schiller's text. In China, during the Cultural Revolution the Ninth was a source of bourgeois corruption according to some, but compatible with principles of class struggle according to others.

These interpretations have surely influenced how musicians perform and think of this work. The Ninth is certainly complex enough musically to allow different readings for rendering different potentially extra-musical ideas. It is difficult, for instance, not to believe (or imagine) that Furtwaengler was trying to portray something horrifying in his infamous 1942 performance of the Ninth in Berlin. We are so used to the notion that performing the Ninth amounts to making a statement on the human condition that, we sometimes forget there can be other simpler, more innocent perspectives on this symphony that are equally legitimate.

It is thus especially refreshing to hear the version of the "Ode to Joy" reviewed here, performed by the Choirs and Orchestras of Belilios Public School (BPS) and Wah Yan College, Kowloon (WYK), who offered an unpretentious and direct reading of this great symphonic finale on May 14, 2011 for the WYK annual concert. I feel that these young musicians from the two secondary schools in Hong Kong and their conductor, Mr. Woo Zun Hin, conceived this movement as an enthusiastic expression of happiness and a joyful celebration of friendship. There was no exaggerated phrasing and dynamic contrast, no lengthened fermata, no extreme accent, no excessive ritardando over important cadences. The music did seem to flow naturally from these students who, for most of the movement, did not appear to be trying too hard to enunciate something beyond their grasp. The genuine feeling of these energetic players makes watching this performance a uniquely moving experience.

It is evident in the clip that the students have worked very hard with their conductor on this concert. Overall the students' playing and singing did live up to the technical challenges demanded by the work. Despite some technical shortcomings, their command of their instruments and voice seemed sufficient for expressing their musical intentions. For instance, the opening instrumental recitatives and the several orchestral statements of the "Joy" theme were musically rendered, technical imperfections notwithstanding. The ensemble nearly (but fortunately did not) fall apart at several difficult spots, but these only made the performance more exciting to follow. For a secondary-school ensemble, intonation, tone quality and diction were outstanding. At several spots there could be a more nuanced calculation of the balance between the strings, winds, and the soloists, but this did not distract me from following their musical argument.

The BPS/WYK Orchestras and Choirs are commended for their effort, and more so for their courage of even attempting Beethoven's Ninth, one of the most sublime musical works ever created. I congratulate Mr. Woo, the soloists, the students and their coaches for their achievement, and wish that this experience of theirs will continue to inspire them to strive for an even higher level of musical understanding.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Finale of the Ravel Piano Trio

I will rehearse the finale of the Ravel Trio with AW and JP tomorrow afternoon.

Years ago, when I heard this movement for the first time from a recording, I found it disgusting and incomprehensible. I regarded those loud triad chords from the piano as grotesque and unnecessary. I thought, what's the point of pushing the piano to such an extreme? And those trills in the strings - was Ravel thinking of replicating the Devil's Trill?

Of course, I now think very differently. But the finale is still the most elusive of the four movements in the Trio, and to my mind, also the least rich. There are long stretches of music in the movement (e.g., the section starting from the violin's statement of the theme till the point when the piano starts shouting out those chords) in which the piano accompaniment supplies nothing more than a noisy background to a main melody played by the strings (and it's actually pretty challenging to make those many notes sound like noises). Most of the movement is textured as an opposition between a very thick piano part and the strings playing in unison. The coda is essentially the same pattern of chords repeated several times. The entire finale cannot but give one an impression that Ravel was rushing through it -- and yes, he needed to finish it before being enlisted to the French army.

The pentatonic main theme of the movement does have its own special charm. Delicate, playful, and transparent, it almost sounds like a tune produced by a Chinese music box. The opening is actually my favourite spot of the entire movement.