Wednesday 18 November 2020

After Sunrise -- The Rest of the Story

This is one of my periodic posts in which I draw attention to some less-well-known aspects of a well-known piece of music.  In this case, the less-well-known aspects are found in the final 28 minutes of a work which normally lasts 30 minutes in performance, give or take a bit.

So what is found in the first 2 minutes that has caused the rest to fade into relative obscurity?  Simple answer: the most renowned, most often played-to-death, most instantly-recognizable sunrise in all of music.  And here we are, with the symphonic poem Also sprach Zarathustra ("Thus Spake Zarathustra") by Richard Strauss.

That sunrise shot from relative obscurity to lasting, world-wide fame, when it was used by Stanley Kubrick for the soundtrack of his epic 1968 film, 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Less often remembered is the fact that the four uses of the musical theme in the film are each accompanied by a significant shot of the sun rising over the earth or in alignment with the mysterious black monolith.  Kubrick was undoubtedly aware of the implications when he chose this music for underscoring those scenes.

The majestic grandeur of the sunrise with its brass fanfares and organ chords over, what happens next?  Strauss set himself the unenviable task of trying to somehow capture something of the flavour of the long, densely-written philosophical novel published in segments (1883-1885) by Friedrich Nietzsche. 

The sustained organ pedal note at the end of the sunrise leads us on into the next section, and part by part the music unfolds for us.  The titles of the various sections are perhaps more mysterious than the music itself, unless the listener has in fact waded through Nietzsche's massive work.  But for the sake of completeness, here they are:

Von der Hintenweltlern ("Of the backworldsmen")
Von der grossen Sehnsucht ("Of the great longing")
Von den Freuden und Leidenschaften  ("Of joys and passions")
Das Grablied ("Song of the Grave")
Von der Wissenschaft ("Of Science")
Der Genesende ("The Convalescent")
Das Tanzlied  ("The Dance Song")
Nachtwandlerlied ("The Night Wanderer's Song")

In practice, as section flows into section, it's not easy to discern where one part ends off and the next begins, unless you have recourse to studying the score with the subtitles marked.  But a few sections are instantly recognizable.  Von den Hintenweltlern features a warm, broad lyrical melody on the cellos and (later) the violas.   
 
Von der Wissenschaft opens deep in the bass with the same C-G-C progression that launched the sunrise -- a progression which appears from time to time throughout the work as a motto.  This leads into a slow rising and falling theme which takes the form of four triadic arpeggios that among them comprise all 12 notes of the chromatic octave.  This theme is then treated to a lengthy fugal development -- appropriate, since a well-structured fugue is among the most scientific of musical forms.  
 
The Tanzlied -- no surprise here -- launches into a perky triple-time dance on a solo violin.  The music grows and grows until it erupts into a full-throttle, swirling Viennese waltz in the massed forces of the orchestra.

The greatest climax of the work arises at the end of the Tanzlied as the music swells into frenzied activity, then suddenly darkens and -- amid the thunderous orchestral textures -- a deep bell tolls 12 strokes -- the hour of midnight.  From this point, the music slowly dies down into the spare orchestration of the final pages, the Nachtwandlerlied, inspired by the poem in the novel which begins with these words:

Oh, Mensch!  Gib' acht! Was spricht die tiefe Mitternacht?
("Oh, man!  Take heed!  What does deep midnight speak?")
 
As a side note, that poem also served as text for the fourth-movement alto solo in Mahler's epic Symphony No. 3.

At the very end, the music closes with what some experts have identified as the "World-Riddle Theme."  The deep strings intone the C-G-C motto pizzicato, but above them the woodwinds quietly play the chord B-F#-B simultaneously, leaving the music without a clear resolution in either key.  Evidently, the great riddle continues to resist solution.

Like many of the Strauss tone poems, Also sprach Zarathustra requires a massive orchestra with multiple woodwinds and extra brasses, not to mention that essential organ.  Thus, it's a very costly piece to perform.  Its obscure philosophical programme has also told against it, with audiences more willing and eager to embrace the clearer storytelling of Tod und Verklärung, Till Eulenspiegel, or even Ein Heldenleben.  It's been more often performed in the German-speaking countries than in North America, where it enjoyed a brief vogue in the years after 1968 (surprise, surprise) but then lapsed back into the twilight zone on the periphery of the repertoire.  
 
In fact, despite having accumulated three or four recordings of this music, I've never actually heard a live concert performance of it.  The Toronto Symphony Orchestra had it programmed for the spring of 2020, and we all know where those concerts went.  But some day, my luck will be in.  Fingers crossed!


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