Monday 17 September 2012

The Biggest Symphony Ever

Way back near the beginning of this blog I wrote about Schoenberg's monumental cantata Gurrelieder.  Before he had even finished this work, Schoenberg had realized that music had worked itself into a dead end where it was no longer possible to simply get bigger and more complex.  He therefore launched out on a much more radical path.

But there was one composer who still managed to get bigger and more complex, and did it moreover at the same time as European music was drastically reinventing itself.  I guess it helps to defy the fashion if you are largely self-taught!  British composer Havergal Brian spent the years from 1919 to 1927 composing the most gigantic symphony ever performed (there are two more recent works which are alleged to be longer but have remained unheard).

The Gothic Symphony lasts for just under 2 hours and uses the largest orchestra ever assembled, including six woodwinds in each section and four extra brass bands.  As well as the conventional orchestral instruments in huge numbers, the score calls for such unusual instruments as the alto flute, basset horn, contrabass clarinet, contrabass trombone, and (in the percussion department) a "bird scare".  It also requires a quartet of vocal soloists, four adult choirs, and a large children's choir.  In spite of these vast demands the work has actually been performed completely 6 times, and on 2 of those occasions the performing forces were dedicated and enthusiastic amateurs!  For the first two complete performances, in 1961 and 1966, the composer was present.

Don't kid yourself that this music is easy because of that comment about amateur performers!  The symphony has many passages of fiendish technical complexity, and while the musical language is predominantly tonal there are a number of truly polytonal sections that would tax any professional conductor's skills to hold the performing forces together!

The symphony consists of two parts, with three main movements in each part, and is meant to be played continuously without a break.  The first three movements are orchestral, and clearly reflect the traditional symphonic ideal.  The opening allegro is in a recognizable sonata form, and is followed by a slow movement of tremendous intensity, and a demonic scherzo.  The scherzo eventually subsides into a wistful and serene cadence out of which emerges the unaccompanied chorus that launches the long choral finale's first section.  The text is the ancient Latin hymn Te deum laudamus, a text with obvious application to a symphony which seems to depict in sound both the majestic architecture and the spiritual intensity of the Gothic age.

This symphony is full of amazing moments in every section, and if the composer's intention were to awe and overwhelm his listeners then he certainly achieved his goal!  Whether it's the striding triple-forte opening of the work, the majestic yet anguished 5/4 climax of the slow movement, or the raucous xylophone cadenza and successive wild key swerves of the end of the scherzo, his orchestral writing is never less than gripping.  The choral sections of the finale are more episodic, yet the music is still held together by the frequent use of the rising motive D-E-G-A in various forms.  Brian's writing for the voices is invariably effective and sometimes much more than that.  One of his most forward-looking moments opens the second part of the finale: the four unaccompanied choirs sing the word Judex on block triads of D, E Minor, G, and A simultaneously, creating a massive tone cluster which is utterly unlike anything else in music.  Actually, that last phrase describes the entire symphony.

The easiest way to describe Havergal Brian's music is to think in terms of march rhythms.  Whether slow or fast, the march dominates his music in a way that even exceeds the use of marches by Mahler.  The idea of dance as a musical inspiration is almost never heard.  Even when Brian slips into triple time, the effect is usually of a fast 1-beat-in-a-bar march.  One of the best examples in the final section of the Gothic Symphony is a march for 6 clarinets that leads into a vast crescendo of all the forces at the words Et rege eos, after which the clarinets return and march away again into the distance.

When I started writing this account, I just dipped for a moment into a Wikipedia page about the symphony to refresh my mind on a couple of details.  There I found out (to my considerable chagrin) that the Gothic Symphony was performed live at the BBC proms in London last summer (2011).  If I had known, I would certainly have tried to get a ticket.  But it would have been a challenge, as the 8000-plus capacity of the Royal Albert Hall was sold out on the first day of ticket sales!  Evidently, there's an audience for this music, and in my mind it's no wonder!

In 1989 the Marco Polo recording company commissioned the first-ever commercial recording sessions of the symphony, and their version later transferred to the company's budget label Naxos.  This, and many other recordings of Brian's symphonies, can still be obtained from the company's Classics Online website.  In digital sound, the recording does a magnificent job of clarifying Brian's massive textures, and if much of the quieter music sounds like it's being played in another room that's the inevitable penalty of trying to fit so many performers into a single hall!  But the performance, under the direction of Ondrej Lenard, is never less than impressive, and certainly well worth its modest cost.