Not Stringing you a Line!

It must be something in the air.

Why else would so many composers from one small group of islands become such masters at the art of manipulating the sound world of the orchestral strings?  I'm not referring to string quartets and other variants of chamber music -- this post is specifically about music for stringed instruments en masse, a format which creates quite different sounds.

In most other countries, the sudden appearance of a passage in rich string-orchestral textures is somewhat of a rarity, an interruption in the normal routine of writing for the full orchestra as a body.  Try to think of works for string orchestra from the European continent and a few string serenades come to mind -- Dvorak, Tchaikovsky, and perhaps Suk or Janacek.  You may also zero in on one undoubted masterpiece of the highest rank, the Metamorphosen of Richard Strauss --  but even here Strauss was writing for 23 solo string players and the richer orchestral textures are shot through with many exquisite passages for only 1 or 2 players at a time.

But in the British Isles, including all of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, string writing seems to be very much the essence of music making.  Almost every major composer since the late 1800s (and most of the minor ones) have produced striking works scored for string orchestras.  I really have no theories to suggest on why this should be so, but would love to hear any interesting guesses in the comment section!

The early years produced three popular and enduring masterpieces in this form, the Introduction and allegro by Elgar, the St. Paul's Suite by Holst, and the monumental Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis by Vaughan Williams.  These three works, in three very different styles, set the bar very high and doubtless inspired many composers who followed.

At any rate, today I want to discuss three quite different examples.  The first is a piece by Granville Bantock called A Celtic Symphony, written for string orchestra and six (!!) harps.  It was first performed in 1940, but I believe was written somewhat earlier.  It's a classic piece of the type of folk-inflected writing so common in the earlier years of the century among such composers as Holst and Vaughan Williams.  The combination of strings and harps creates a kind of misty sound which evokes to outlying regions of northern and western Scotland.  I'm specifying Scotland (which is by no means the only Celtic region of Britain) simply because the main theme of the final section has an unmistakable and oft-repeated "Scotch snap" rhythm.  The entire work lasts less than 20 minutes and can be divided into 4 "movements" although it is meant to be played continuously.  The harps have their moment of glory shortly before the end when all six join in a swirling cadenza of simultaneous rising and falling glissandi.  There's a fine recording on Hyperion CD, part of a programme of Bantock's Celtic-inspired works.

Another splendid example is the work simply titled Music for Strings by Arthur Bliss, composed in 1930.  It was said at the time that Bliss had staked his claim to be the legitimate successor of Elgar in this work.  Like Elgar's monumental Introduction and allegro of  this work uses string soloists as well as string orchestra.  It's written in an idiom that often sounds Elgarian, but also shows the harmonic impact of the developments in the years since Elgar's work premiered in 1905.  Bliss was certainly familiar with works by such cutting-edge composers as Schoenberg, Webern, Berg, and Stravinsky.  So the familiar rich sounds of the string orchestra are livened from time to time by acerbic harmonic clashes.  These are in any case much less offensive in the soft-grained sound of strings than they would be if played on winds or brasses!  In three movements, Bliss demonstrates his complete mastery of string orchestra technique.  There's a terrific amount of energy in the first and last movements and a kind of elegiac purity about the middle slower movement.  The kind of folk inspiration found in Bantock's work is absent here;  this is absolute music, pure and simple, and a splendid example of the art.

The late Richard Hickox recorded a fine version for Chandos records, partnered with another unusual and beautiful Bliss work, the Pastoral (Lie Strewn the White Flocks) for choir, mezzo-soprano, strings, timpani and flute/piccolo.  It's a lovely homage to the tradition of the pastoral poem, which was a style of writing that Bliss particularly loved.  The ideas for the work began to come to him during a holiday in Sicily, and he conceived of a cycle of short poems that would take you through the shepherd's day from dawn to dusk.  This of course means a shepherd of the world of Greco-Roman antiquity, so the god Pan must necessarily be invoked and appear, his voice imitated by the haunting sound of the flute.

This short work, perhaps better identified as a song cycle than a cantata, begins with a string orchestral introduction that seems to depict the waning of night towards the dawn.  There then follows a sequence of nine settings of poetry from different writers.  Most are set for chorus, but one -- The Pigeon Song -- is given to the mezzo-soprano.  In seventh place comes the memorable Song of the Reapers, with the choir's staccato energetic phrases interspersed by wild polytonal skirling from the piccolo.  The Pastoral eventually winds down to a gentle conclusion by way of the final Shepherd's Night Song and a short reminiscence of the introduction.

I first heard this beautiful piece, with highly individual string writing throughout, in a concert at Metropolitan United Church (Toronto) under Dr. Melville Cook back in the late 1970s.  I was instantly captivated and have waited a long time to get a recording of it.  Thank you, Chandos Records and Richard Hickox!