...Tristan Perich, 1-Bit Symphony

1-Bit Symphony

With his 1-Bit Symphony, American composer Tristan Perich tries to challenge the concept of the artwork as we know it. Assembled into an CD jewel case, a microchip, a battery, volume control, an on/off-switch, and a headphone jack give life to music, consisting in its entirety and literally of 1 Bits.

In a video, Tristan Perich explains his approach to his composition.

I was was compelled by this concept at fist glance. I mean, how cool is that, if the actual music is computed in the very instant you turn it on?

I am almost sad that the analytical part of my brain had to conjure some questions to this concept, which I want to discuss.

It resides in a jewel case. Or not.

The 1-Bit symphony not only resides in the microchip in the jewel case. Since the physical copies are, sadly enough, out of stock, one can buy it as .mp3-files via the Cantaloupe Music Store. It is also possible to listen to a couple of movements via Soundcloud for free.

But what appears to be a convenient way to enjoy Perich's music seems to me as the retraction of the artistic statement Perich's. To be honest, the music itself isn't that interesting. It reminds me and some of the commentators on Soundcloud of 80's video game music, especially that of the Commodore 64 or Nintendo. And saying that of music composed at a time when most teenagers haven't seen a C64 is not necessarily a compliment.

The 1-Bit Symphony could easily be desribed as minimal music. Alex Ross comes to the same conclusion and mentions Terry Riley. That might be or not be the intention of the composer. In the end, I have to ask both Perich and minimalist composers: Why stick to the diatonic scale? Especially electronic music bears to much possibilities to overcome the restriction of the common scales, so why not use these possibilities? And if still sticking to the diatonic scale, why almost always use consonant sounds?

A small detour: In the 80's show A.L.F, Alf is playing piano, observed by Kate. He is playing the song "I just checked into the parasite hotel", in jazz style. He replies to Kate, who is surprised that he can play the piano, that it would be not so easy without the red keys. It seems strange, that a species from outer space has the same tone scale as we have, even with additional red keys. Here is a video of that scene, though in spain.

Another, even more strange scene is the so-called "Cantina Band" at "Star Wars", Episode 4. "Star Wars" happens in a galaxy "far, far away" and "long time ago." But they still have scales from good old earth, and not even the red keys.

If transplanted from the jewel  case to Soundcloud or your mp3-Player, Perich's 1-Bit Symphony becomes what it really is: 1-Bit music (in fact, another piece by Perich is called by that name.) And so it cannot be an innovative piece of music but rather a regression to the style of the 80's.

Another view

But maybe it is not fair to analyze Perich's music with the tools of a musicologist, who hones his skills usually with the so-called avant garde music. That might be a dangerous venture in this case.

Perich did not seem interested in composing avant garde music, this is obvious by listening to other music by him. So it might be rather the concept which should be the main focus of an honest analysis. Perich says in his statement in the video above that the listener should experience the process of generating music first hand. But is this true? The process is obscured anyway, either by the microchip or by a CD player - even a turntable is not "showing" where the music is produced. Where is the difference, whether the music is hard-coded or generated at run-time, if the results are the same? 

So the point of this concept might be the contradiction, that 1-Bit music and not something fancy is coming out directly from a CD jewel case. But wouldn't it be easier to wrap a music cassette-like jacket around an iPhone and plug in headphones?

The Symphony

Perich wants to show us that complex music with a 1-Bit microchip is possible. To support this intention, he calls his composition "symphony." Although the symphony had a rather strict form in the 18th and 19th century, almost everything can be named symphony these days. Accordingly, it is used for music that should be great, either in instrumentation or ambition. One good example are the late Symphonies by Galina Ustvolskaya (I wrote about it one post ago) which are small in instrumentation but huge in ambitions. By calling his work a symphony, Perich is claiming the same ambition for his work, but is failing to fulfil this on the level of the composition itself. The music has no complexitiy, since it is mostly repetitive and not inventive harmonically and rhythmically. But especially this would be possible with electronic music.

...the Music of Galina Ustvolskaya

Hommage to Galina Ustvolskaya

Galina Ustvolskaya is certainly no longer an insiders' tip. Almost every work by her is available on CD, and the first biography was published this year by Andreas Holzer.

Nevertheless, it is not so easy to encounter her work in concert. The instrumentation is often unusual, and the pieces short in duration, which contradicts the programming in regular concert series'. Therefor, praise is due for the Wiener Festwochen and his Chairman Markus Hinterhäuser for performing her music on four concerts on two consecutive days. 

The concert(s) were debated in a poor review in Die Presse. I guess that the reviewer only attended the concert with the piano sonatas, risked a quick glance at the liner notes and scribbled down his review. The review in the "Tiroler Tageszeitung" is more concise, but far from thorough. Ljubisa Tosic wrote by far the most accurate review for "Der Standard."

The Works

On Saturday, May 31st, and Sunday, June 1st, almost every piece by Ustvolskaya could be heard in the Wiener Konzerthaus, played by some of the world's finest musicians. The first concert started with the Sonata for Violin and Piano, followed by the Duet for Violin and Piano, played by Markus Hinterhäuser and Patricia Kopachinskaya. Both of the them applied an almost romanticist approach to Ustvolskaya's music, which is otherwise often accused of being harsh and violent. Hinterhäuser and Kopachinskaya proved the opposite, and showed that her music is more than a succession of fffff-clusters and allegedly unrelated quarter-notes. On the other hand, their performance of this two pieces already showed the immense emotional potential of this music, which was heart-gripping and overwhelming at the same time. Even Patricia Kopachinskaya seemed to be moved, if not stunned, by it and was able to show a faint smile only after the fourth curtain call. The audience was applauding deeply grateful, and rightly so. 

Markus Hinterhäuser performed also the six piano sonatas on the next day. Once more, his romanticist approach which lots of pedal appeared to be an interesting way of dealing with the ragged and seemingly incoherent structure. This incoherence is a wildly discussed trait of Ustvolskaya's music, but Hinterhäuser showed that this is no necessity. Admittedly, her music is often violent and loud, but Hinterhäuser refrained from showing too much of this performative stance. This was obvious in the notorious sixth piano sonata, which consists almost only of ffff-clusters. He did not "jump" into the piano, like Marino Formenti did in the Symphonies, but played them as carefully as he played mellow passages, which revealed a completely different approach to Ustvolskaya's music. His interpretation has nothing to do with the so-called "Lady with the Hammer." Hinterhäuser showed us the beauty that lies below this mountains of clusters by taking Ustvolskaya's direction "espressivissimo" literally.

World were between Marino Formenti's interpretation of the 12 Préludes later that evening and Hinterhäuser's style. Formenti appeared as a master of the tender and the delicate, in opposition to his almost beserk account in the Symphonies No. 2 and 3. He maybe lost track in the fourth Prélude, but was nevertheless acclaimed frenetically by the audience for a remarkable performance of this early work by Ustvolskaya that showed unknow qualities of her music.

The five Symphonies can be divided in three groups. The first, which was not performed on this occasion, the second and third, the fourth and fifth. The second and third symphony are scored mostly for brass and woodwinds, percussion, and piano. They all have spiritual (religious) names, like "True, eternal bliss" (2nd), "Jesus, Messiah, save us" (3rd), "Prayer" (4th), and "Amen" (5th). They were performed by the phenomenal "Klangforum Wien", directed by Peter Rundel. 

These symphonies are certainly not for the faint-hearted. Ustvolskaya explicitly connects them to a certain, though unnamed, belief, by virtue of the title, and a vocal soloist. The same can be said about the three Compositions, which also bear religious titles like "Dona nobis pacem" (1st), "Dies irae" (2nd), and "Benedictus qui venit" (3rd), but abstain from the use of a singer. The music of the Symphonies and the Compositions is not only perceptible with the ear, but also with the whole body. This is, in part, also true for the sonatas, but because of the different instruments, it is much more effective in the Symphonies as well as in the Compositions. Another difference is that the latter are performed by a ensemble, that is to say, a community. To stay in Ustvolskaya's world of religious faith, the ensemble might be a community of believers who talk to each other, whereas the pianist is a single prayer.

The Occasion

More than twenty Composition were performed in not much more than twenty-four hours. It is a major accomplishment to organize such an event, and even more with such fine performers.
Nevertheless, I have strong doubts that it makes sense to program almost the complete ouevre of a composer in four concerts on two evenings, even more, if it's Ustvolskaya. I was pretty exhausted after the first two concerts on the first evening. The liner notes said, that each concert would last for 70 minutes, which was a ridiculous underestimation, given that the first concert lasted almost two hours and the second 90 minutes. Obviously, the breaks to rearrange chairs and stands were not calculated. The concert could have ended after the first two works for violin and piano, and I would not have been disappointed. In my opinion, the music is too strong for listening to more than one or two works by Ustvolskaya in a row. Even the piano sonatas, though her shortest works in duration, are strenuous, for both the performer and the audience.
 It is highly questionable, if the organizer of the Wiener Festwochen did the performers, the audience, and the composer a favour by this abundance. On the other hand - one can't but admire the audacity (in the best sense) of this very organizer to advocate for this radical, unconventional, and, at least for me, mysterious music.

...the Music of Awet Terterian

Awet Terterian, Master of Time

The by far most popular Armenian Composer is, without any doubt, Aram Khachaturian. Together with Sergej Prokofiev, and, of course, Dmitri Shostakovich, he was the most prolific composer of his time. I heard about him the first time, when my piano teacher pulled out some sheet music with a sonata by him, which I loved, despite or because his strange musical language.

By this time I didn't know his fellow composer Awet Terterian (1929-1994). The publicity of the man is inversely proportional to the genius of the music, which does not lead to an increased number of performances. Terterian wrote for almost every genre, including soundtracks for movies. Not everything convinces me, but not everything by Mozart convinces me as well, so that is not a surprise. More surprising is the distance between his short works, for example the song "The Nightingale and the Rose" after a poem by Pushkin, which exists in a piano transcription by Hayk Melykan on Youtube.

Awet Terterian, Source: terterian.org

His most interesting works are his large-scale compositions, that is to say, his symphonies and stage works. He wrote to operas, "Der Feuerring" and "Das Beben" ("The Earthquake") and eight symphonie. I will focus here on "Das Beben" and his third and sixth symphony, since I know this works best.

Das Beben

"Das Beben" was premiered in 2003 in Munich, at the Theater am Gärtnerplatz by conductor and Terterian-scholar Ekkehard Klemm. It was, originally, commissioned by Edition Peters, in 1984, for a performance in Halle, by that time part of the GDR. The opera calls for a very large orchestra, which wasn't placed on the stage, where the audience was sitting, but in the pit.

The narration, based on the story "Das Erdbeben in Chili" by Heinrich von Kleist. Although the story remains almost incomprehensible, the music is all the more intriguing. Terterian loves to work with repetition, which is a characteristic trait of his music. Dorothea Redepenning, author of the brilliant multi-volume work "History of the Russian and Sowjet Music", assumes vague reminiscences of Armenian folk music, which may or may not be true. In any case, the use of traditional musical elements was encouraged by cultural politics of the communists, but certainly not in the way Terterian employed it. His music is too loud, too long, but on the other hand too reclusive to work as a device for propaganda. For example, a choir is shouting the same words for minutes, while on the stage isn't happening much. There is an uneasy force in this music, not to be compared to minimal music, which I will discuss later.

Unfortunately there is no video footage available of the performance in Munich, but some lucky guys managed to upload some snippets from a perfomance of the Armenian Nation Opera, probably in Erewan.

3. Symphony

A more extreme example are the symphonies, especially the Third. It is marked by the extensive use of percussion instruments and timpani, sometimes beyond the physical capability of the ear. Here, too, Terterian alludes to traditional Armenian music by employing the Zurna and the Duduk, two reed instruments. But again, he is as far away as it gets from using it to allude to Armenian (folk) music. The music is extreme loud, shrill, and acidly, that a willing connection to folk music is suffocated in an instant.

Duduk. Source: Wikimedia

Even when it is not loud and difficult to hear just because of its physical intensity, as in the second of the three movement, the music does not become simply "convinient." In the second movement, a single tone - though not loud - is hold throughout. Nobody has breath enough to hold the tone for almost ten minutes, so the player has to employ special breathing techniques, but it causes the listener physical pain to experience a tone played way beyond the capabilities of human lungs.

Zurna. Quelle: wikimedia

Melody-wise, there is not much happening in the first and third movement. Terterian does not seems interested in melody but rather in building up kind of monumental soundscape (likewise in his Sixth Symphony). His device is repetition, and this puts him in the vicinity of the American minimalist composer.

Nevertheless, I will argue that his music is as far away from minimal music as the music of Morton Feldman is. The aesthetic of minimal music as displayed by Philip Glass or Steve Reich features a dense field of sound in which small changes achieve a strong effect (e. g. "Piano Phase"). It also generates an atmosphere a trance by fast moving patterns and a very characteristic sound color (e. g. "Einstein on the Beach"). In contrary to that, Terterian is not interested in small changes, his music rather accumulates power, but without necessarily discharging it. From the first note, his music is present (as is minimal music, too), but there is still an increasing intensity. His music is not without development, though not in the classical sense.

Terterians music should be played more often in the concert hall, as well as his opera. I guess, it is still looking for the right audience, although there are some performances. The Website http://terterian.org collects performance dates and other interesting information.

...Hans Werner Henze, Symphony No. 7

A Symphony Called "Symphony"

Henze's 7th Symphony, composed and premiered in the early 80s, is his first contribution to the genre which he entitled "Symphonie" and not "Sinfonia" or "Sinfonie." It is a work commissioned by the Berliner Symphoniker, and thus a work with a political statement per se. Henze's struggle with his German heritage, culminating in his move to Italy, finds its solution in this work and, at least in the mind of the composer, an answer to the question: How to write Symphonies after Auschwitz?

According to the sketches to this symphony which are kept at the Paul Sacher Stiftung, and the comments of Henze on the music, one of its main topics is the romantic German poet Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843). Hölderlin, who is nowadays known as one of the most accomplished poets of his time, was (more or less) incarcerated in the clinic of Doctor Autenrieth. Treated for assumed madness, he was tortured (compared by today's medical standards) and not being able to care for himself for the rest of his life.

Friedrich Hölderlin,
painted by Franz Karl Hiemer (1792)
Source: zeno.org

Henze parallelizes Hölderlin's agony with the victims of the atrocities committed in the Third Reich and is hence establishing a link to the 20th century. However, the efficiency of this link has yet to be proven.

The 7th Symphony is a work with an immense orchestration. It features such rarely used instruments like a Heckelphone (kind of a tenor oboe) and is demanding for every single player as well as for the conductor. Following the score while listening to the music might be a futile attempt at first because of Henze's extreme dense but almost always lucid handling of the orchestra.

Fighting through the Score

I managed to lay hands on three scores for my seven students. One was a conductor's score, so three students could follow the music, the others had to share a pocket score (Edition Schott - Music of our time) by two. I never talked about a piece that big - the symphony has a duration of more than 30 minutes - or that complex, so I decided to focus on the first and third movement. Unlike other symphonies (like the 9th), Henze returned to the old four-movement form, which is another hint of his occupation with the German symphonic tradition.

My strategy was to let the students listen to the first movement while pursuing the form, followed by a discussion on the practicability of terms like exposition, development and so on for Henze's music. I was the only one without a score, and it was baffling to experience that the different parts of the sonata form of the first movement were actually distinguishable, even in an atonal context. Before that I was always reading the score along which must have distracted me from the music.

My students weren't that impressed by the music and viewed the organisation of the parts rather arbitrary. Terms like first and second theme seemed to be useless since this theoretical  framework had no impression on the actual sound. I derived an outline of analyses by Albrecht Dümling and Benedikt Vennefrohne, who wrote his dissertation on Henze's Symphonies, but it seems to be less convincing on paper than in the ear. I presented charts provided by Vennefrohne, which obviously did not match the experiences my students had. I have to confirm them: The ties between the parts are loose and faint, difficult to argue and not necessarily convincing. Experiencing the parts that clearly during the lecture certainly was justified by my repeated listening to the Symphony before, kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

A Scherzo of Torture

From the dissertation by Vennefrohne, who evaluated the sketches of Henze as well as a master thesis and an article by Peter K. Freyberg, we learn that the third movement is the real center of the symphony. In this movement, considered a Scherzo, Henze assigns different motives to means of torture, and of course, to Hölderlin himself. The problem is that none of this assignments accurately drafted by Henze and faithfully analyzed by Vennefrohne and Freyberg is compelling at all. The whole conception of the torture instruments "the swing" (a torture practice used in Auschwitz) and "the wheel" (a torture practice used in ancient Greek), resembled by certain motives stands and falls with the knowledge that Vennefrohne derives from the sketches. But even if the liner notes or program notes inform the audience about this circumstances, nobody is obliged to accept this interpretation. Of course, Henze had the notion that music conveys a distinctive message, but we know that this attempt is as futile as ridiculous and an insult of the audience.

Other composers had this crazy idea, too. Think about Karlheinz Stockhausen and his allegedly decent from planet Sirius. But nevertheless, the dominating behavior of Henze seems more serious to me, since it affects directly the reception of the music. That might be the reason why he is so rarely discussed in the University. Henze wants to reign, he tries to hem the listener to his own conception. This is a notion that cannot be accept in the 21st century.

One last example: The last movement is a scoring of Hölderlin's poem "Hälfte des Lebens", but without an actual singer. How is one supposed to recognize this relation? I will not argue that this is not a valid compositional approach, I would use it myself as a composer, and others did it, too. But it is certainly not a valid means of telling the audience, they have to hear Hölderlin's poem out of the music, if they please. In my opinion, this symphony is fantastically written orchestral piece, but I can't accept Henze's urge to control my reception which also smothers a valid analysis. I see it as my obligation as a teacher, to point this out to my students.

Therefore, I am sure, Henze's music will only take its place it deserves in music history when Henze and his scholars will finally set it free.

References:

Vennefrohne, Benedikt: Die Sinfonien Hans Werner Henzes, Hildesheim, Zürich: Verlag Georg Olms 2005.

Freyberg, Peter K.: "Henzes Siebte - Eine Hölderlin-Symphonie", in: Hans Werner Henze (= Hamburger Jahrbuch für Musikwissenschaft, Bd. 20), hrsg. von Peter Petersen, Frankfurt a. Main: Peter Lang 2003, S. 91 - 111.

Dümling, Albrecht: "Ein reflektierter Freudentanz. Versuch einer Interpretation des 1. Satzes von Hans Werner Henzes 7. Symphonie", in: Musik, Deutung, Bedeutung. Festschrift für Harry Goldschmidt, hrsg. von Hartmut Lück und Hans-Werner Heister, Dortmund: Edition V im Pläne-Verlag 1986, S. 107 - 111.

Further reading on the internet
Tom Service: "A guide to Hans Werner Henze's Music"

...the Symphonies of the 20th Century

A venture

I decided to make the symphonies of the 20th century the topic of my analysis class I am going to teach this semester. This is an incredible huge field but I am convinced that it must be possible to handle a topic in a given time frame regardless of its dimensions.

My students are composers, musicologists, and conductors, and were, at least till now, quite eager about my choice. The 20th century offers a vast scope of symphonies, from Shostakovich to Ives, from Maxwell Davies to Pärt, from Henze to Glass. I am really looking forward to teach this class and learn at lot about 20th century music. 

The plan is to listen to symphonies from Germany and Austria, then Russia, Ex-USSR, and Poland, then France and Switzerland, and at least the UK and USA. Unfortunately there will be no time to talk about the vast history of symphonies of the Scandinavian countries.

I post a Google Drive spreadsheet on this blog, so you may keep yourself informed about what symphonies I have already listened to. I call it the "20th century symphony project" (20SP). Sounds pretty cool, huh?

Overview

The first lecture was last Thursday. I spoke about the symphonies form german-speaking countries. At first we were listening to the music by Anton Webern, Ernst Krenek, Paul Hindemith, and Karl Amadeus Hartmann as examples of pre-World War II symphonies. Everybody was struck by the huge difference between the music of Webern and his contemporaries. Even now Webern sounds fresh and radical, compared to Hindemith, whose music sounds old school and even a bit cheesy.

Anton (von) Webern. Quelle: wikimedia

It is always surprising for me to read that Hindemith was the hero of contemporary music in Darmstadt in post-World War II Germany, at least till 1949. After that the decline of his fame was as fast as the stars of Stockhausen and Boulez rose, but none of them wrote any symphonies.

There are a couple of noteworthy symphonies after 1945. Wolfgang Fortner and Bernd Alois Zimmermann wrote one each, and there is the "Deutsche Sinfonie" by Hanns Eisler. The "Deutsche Sinfonie" might be the best example of an antiquated music, which belongs to a Museum of Music, together maybe with the works by GDR-composer Ernst Hermann Meyer. But all the aforementioned symphonies disappeared from the repertoire.

Hartmann and Henze

Undoubtedly, Karl Amadeus Hartmann and his friend and fellow Hans Werner Henze rank among the most important and prolific composers of symphonies in the german speaking countries. Although Hartmann almost fell into oblivion, his 1. Symphony "Versuch eines Requiems" on a poem by Walt Whitman, his Violin Concerto, and his composition "Miserere" can still be found in concert programs. 

Hans Werner Henze was also a companion of Stockhausen and Boulez, but after asthetic differences they went their own ways. Henze did not chose serial composition, what made him "unnütz" ("useless") in the eyes and ears of Boulez. Detested by not a few of his peers, he nevertheless advanced to be one of the most important German composers. His music is full of overtly shown expression, a trait to which he committed himself already in the 1940's. 

 

Hans Werner Henze. Quelle: wikimedia/Bundesarchiv, B 145 Bild-F008277-0008 / Unterberg, Rolf / CC-BY-SA

His ten symphonies can be divided into five early works, the more mature 6th symphony, and four late masterworks. All of them, from the first to the last, reveal his masterful instrumentation, but not before his 6th symphony he found a individual style. The 7th symphony, his engagement with Beethoven, will be the focus of my next lecture.

...Mohammed Fairouz, Symphony No. 4 "In The Shadow Of No Towers"

Yet Another Commemoration Piece?

To be honest, I hadn't very high hopes when I read the first time about Mohammed Fairouz' Symphony No. 4 "In The Shadow Of No Towers" in the review of Grego Applegate Edwards in his Gapplegate Classical-Modern Music Review and also in The Classical Reviewer. That was before I heard a single note of Fairouz' music, and even after a couple of minutes into the first movement I wasn't fully convinced if this Symphony wasn't yet another attempt to catch the latest wave of 9/11 commemoration - since this is a piece which is linked to this very disaster by virtue of its title.

My concerns with this piece where twofold: First, as a composer educated in Europe, I have a certain mistrust against tonal streams in otherwise atonal music, or rather against the intermingling of both. This might be the outcome of a Euro-centric attitude nurtured by overambitious Adorno-reading, that music is only modern if it uses the most advanced material available, which "In The Shadow Of No Towers" does apparently not.

My second concern was, since Fairouz is not the first composer writing a 9/11 commemoration piece, that he also gets trapped in a pitfall John Adams and Steve Reich couldn't avoid. Adams in his "On The Transmigration Of Souls" as well as Reich in "WTC 9/11" both availed themselves with the human voice to transport their message. In both cases this seems to me like the hapless attempt to ensure the "commemoration aptitude" of their music, but it is not more than their average output combined with 9/11-related citations.

This was my inital position for Fairouz' Symphony No. 4.

Something is terribly wrong

Fairouz scored his work for winds, supported by percussions. The movements are (the links point to his Soundcloud channel):

1. The New Normal
2. Notes Of A Heartbroken Narcissist
3. One Nation Under Two Flags
4. Anniversaries

The liner notes as well as the blog mentioned above provide ample information on the titles, and I will not repeat them here. Also the connection to the works of Art Spiegelman, from whom Fairouz borrowed the title, is discussed there at length. Nevertheless, and that be again due to my euro-centric point of view, in my opinion the music must be accessible in one way or another without further explanations. Actually, I don't now the vignettes by Spiegelman very well, and the titles of the movements mean nothing to me, but I expect the music to work for me anyway. And it does.

From the very beginning, there is a disturbing atmosphere in the music, which is refreshingly different to the usual mourning sound à la Adams. Fairouz intention is not to remember the victims of 9/11 but rather to trace the wounds and bruises in the American heart. In fact, it is questionable whether this is a commemoration piece after all. Fairouz often uses grand tonal sounds, for example at the end of the Symphony, but also on various occasions within the piece, but something is always wrong, or rather on the verge of something. Especially the end repeats a certain motive so often that it shifts to its own parody (maybe a reference to Shostakovich's Symphony No. 4). This passage is accompanied by the clicking of two claves, which resembles a ticking clock.




At this point, the question for me was no longer if I can accept tonality, which Fairouz uses plenty of times, but rather for which purpose he employs it. Fairouz is without doubt beyond the quite ideological distinction between tonality or atonality. His music is the result of a multi-stylistic world of music, since he has mastered the comparatively difficult task of combining them. Maybe Fairouz points in the direction music is heading to in the 21st century.
Other composers, like the aforementioned John Adams, miss this point. Adams is merely composing the soundtrack for a commemoration celebration. Fairouz is achieving much more: His music does not illustrate by means of words, it is having a dialogue with its subject through its very own musical symbols.


Mohammed Fairouz' 4th Symphony "In The Shadow Of No Towers" was issued on NAXOS together with Philip Glas' "Concert Fantasy for two Timpani and Orchestra."

...Karl Amadeus Hartmann, 8th Symphony

The music of German composer Karl Amadeus Hartmann has almost disappeared from concert life, despite his eminent importance for the musical landscape in early post-war Germany. He was the founder of Munich's famous MUSICA VIVA festival for new music, and with him contemporary classical music rose from the ashes of World War II.

But what happened ever since? Hartmann suffered from cancer and died already with 58 years in 1963. His contemporaries, like the ten years older Carl Orff outlived him by almost twenty years. Nevertheless, the music by Hartmann performed in the concert hall today is still more manifold than Orff's notorious "Carmina Burana." There is his Symphony No. 1, his Violin Concerto, or his piano sonata "27. April 1945."

In this post I will discuss his 8th and last symphony, premiered in 1963, the year of his death. The movements are:

1. Cantilene
2. Dithyrambe: Scherzo - Fugue

Every single bar in this symphony reveals the unmitigated craftsmanship of Hartmann, in instrumentation, originality, and form. One example is the instrumentation at the very beginning, where he combines a C-Clarinet with the Vibraphone to a sound of strange acuteness. An example for his lifelong interest in polyphony is not only the four-part counterpoint two or three minutes into the first movement, but also the fugue at the end of the symhpony.

The fugue construes the second part of the second movement, called "Dithyrambe", what means "song of joy that ends with rapturous exultation" (Hartmann does not miss to inform us about that in a footnote in the score). A fugues seems to me the perfect device to achieve this goal, since it allows to generate an complex yet not chaotic atmosphere. Besides, he is in good company with Mozart, who decided to employ a fugue in his last symphony, with the same results (at least to me).

His younger friend and contemporary Hans Werner Henze wrote "Three Dithyramben" for chamber orchestra in 1958, also the second movement of his Third Symphony is called the same. Whether there is an influence or not is not easy to decide. The music of the two sound not unalike. However, Hartmanns last work has a density and strong emotional impact unachieved by Henze, at least during that time.


There is a video on Youtube (audio only) with Hartmann's 8th Symphony, conducted by Ingo Metzmacher, who recorded all of Hartmann's Symphonies.