Monday, February 23, 2009

The Ornithological Combat of Kings?

Anthony Philip Heinrich is both an example and an exception of the stereotypical musician and composer from the Romantic period. Though Heinrich was an immigrant from Bohemia, he considered himself an American and was the first professional American composer as we understand the occupation. He was famous not only in the United States, but experienced acclaim on many of the orchestral tours he took to Europe. He exhibited many of the behaviors of the archetypical Romantic musician, from introducing Beethoven to the American public to composing highly programmatic works to closeting himself away in the wilds of Kentucky to celebrate nature[i], but he also departed from the standard with the sheer quirkiness shown in his music. In his composition for orchestra entitled The Ornithological Combat of Kings, these two sides of this composer come together in an amusing yet unexpected work.

The Ornithological Combat of Kings or The Condor of the Andes and The Eagle of the Cordilleras (Grand Symphony) is laid out in typical symphony fashion, beginning with a fast movement, followed by a slow movement, a minuet and a fast finale. The first movement, entitled “The Conflict of the Condor in the Air,” begins with a light and somewhat floating theme in the upper strings and woodwinds and quickly branches out to include the rest of the orchestra. Heinrich incorporates the different timbers of the orchestra well here, showing of the different colors of his ensemble. The music escalates in intensity, jumping back and forth between frolicking passages in the strings and upper woodwinds and brief fanfares in the brass, until it arrives at a more somber rendition of the beginning idea. After a brief swell, the conflict resolves and the movement ends quietly.

The second movement, “The Repose of the Condor,” is slow and begins, to my ears, with a slightly menacing and sustained melody in the lower strings. The piece continues in a similar fashion and midway through, the strings have a section that resembles a country dance. An element of folk music is present before Heinrich inserts a random snippet of composition that is much different in tempo, tone and style. After an extremely brief interlude there, he returns to the folk melody and closes out the movement with a flourish.

The third movement, “The Combat of the Condor,” opens with a bold dynamic and continues at slightly frenetic pace. The music a sense of urgency, and Heinrich has definitely upped the rhythmic intensity, building the momentum throughout. There is also a more extended use of the percussion than in previous movements. Although there are brief moments of respite, the movement carries on in a rousing manner until the triumphant conclusion.

The fourth movement, “Victory of the Condor,” starts out unobtrusively, subtlety mirroring the earlier dancelike style. It does however promise a bigger conclusion from that humble start, and Heinrich does not disappoint. The work steadily builds towards an exciting conclusion, even though it occasionally veers off to explore other ideas. However, Heinrich fools us after an exciting climax by ending the piece with a quiet duet of flutes over a pedal tone in the low strings.

There were elements of this I enjoyed, although I do not want to say I thoroughly liked the piece. There were moments where I was puzzled, and it sometimes felt like Heinrich just wrote something and then randomly inserted it in the piece. At the same time, there is a definite sense of the composer and with it a refreshing individuality that I have to respect. Heinrich was not much concerned with the way others perceived his music and concentrated on writing what appealed to him and presenting that to his audience. Considered by some to be the first American composer, Heinrich was very different from other early American composers like Stephen Foster. Whereas Foster’s music spoke to the American population, Heinrich was removed from the popular spotlight because of his elaborate music. He did not alter his style of composition, maintaining the complexity of his ideas even in popular song composition.[ii] I wasn’t completely sure what exactly Heinrich was trying communicate with this composition (despite the lengthy title and descriptions), but I did find myself engaged, particularly in the last movement. I responded to the urgency throughout, and I definitely had an increasing sense of excitement. Though the ending was not what I expected, I thought it was beautiful.

After listening to the work and learning a little about the history of Heinrich, I can understand why this work and the work of Heinrich in general is not a part of the canon. There is an element of randomness to the music that is somewhat beyond the parameters of Romantic music. As William Brooks notes in his contribution to the Cambridge History of American Music, “his music wanders freely through America’s collectively held landscapes en route to a destination that may little resemble the starting point.”[iii]Though there is the programmatic element to consider, the music is lacking in a cohesive element that keeps the absolute focus of the listener. If there were a written program explaining some of the more random flights of fancy, the listener would have something to guide them through the piece. Each movement has a specific title and I think a brief explanation of why would be extremely helpful. When I was trying to fit Heinrich into the Romantic canon, the name Carlo Gesualdo came to mind. I seem to remember someone describing Gesualdo as a kind of offshoot in the Renaissance canon. This description can also be used to describe Heinrich, who followed the beat of his own drum. His music is engaging and does exhibit characteristics of the Romantic era but also maintains a separate sense of identify and whimsy that is entirely Heinrich.
[i] Denise Von Glahn, The Sounds of Place; Music and the American Cultural Landscape (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2003) 269.
[ii] Richard Crawford, America’s Musical Life (New York, London: W.W. Norton & Company, 2000) 317-318
[iii] William Brooks, “Music in America: an overview (part 1)” in The Cambridge History of American Music, ed. David Nicholls (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998) 42-43

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

When commenting on anything concerning August Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf, I must first mention how much I absolutely love his name. It reminds me of how much I would like to have a friend or acquaintance that answers to the name of Ditters. I share this information not to distract from any thoughts concerning his Sinfonia no. 1 in C major, “Die vier Weltalter” but to give the observations that follow some context. Anything composed by my dearest Dittersdorf is almost automatically regarded in a favorable light.

One of the features of the work that Ben Cross chooses to address in his response to Sinfonia No. 1 is the way Dittersdorf uses the source of his inspiration, Ovid's Metamorphoses, in each of his movements. Mr. Cross also makes an excellent point in noting that use of the work by the Roman poet Ovid catalogs the Sinfonia as a part of the classical period before one even begins to listen. Not being familiar with the work of Ovid in any form, it was interesting to investigate the work. It is interesting to note that in the Greek version of the Ages of Man myth by the poet Hesiod, there were five Ages of Man. In between the Bronze Age and the Iron Age, there was a period referred to as the Heroic Age where Zeus formed a “nobler and more righteous people, a god-like race of hero-men who are called demi-gods…”[i] The idea of the Greek presentation of the Ages of Man versus the Roman presentation of that concept caught my attention and brought to mind a new query. In his post Mr. Cross ably relates each of the movements of the symphony with the ages they represent, leading one to briefly wonder what Dittersdorf would have done with another movement relating to the Heroic Age. I found Dittersdorf’s use of the trumpet and the timpani in the final movement depicting the Iron Age to be very effective and I wonder if the composer would have utilized some of the same techniques depicting the Heroic Age or if he would have found another way to convey the idea of the age to the listener.

The first movement of the piece is used to describe the Golden Age which is meant to represent a more peaceful time. I believe one of the phrases often in Mr. Cross’ post is “eternal spring.” Dittersdorf definitely showcases that idea, well with the opening sequences in the strings. One of the words that I think of while listening to this piece is pastoral. The movement is simple in style and does not feel overworked, which aids in creating a spring-like feeling. The second movement is representative of Ovid’s Silver Age, where the four seasons were created and structure came to man. While there are different characters that could be perceived as seasons present through the piece, particularly in the development, I had some difficulties positively identifying each of the seasons. I am left unsure as to whether Dittersdorf included all the seasons in the movement or choose to concentrate on a few that he felt would be justly represented. Upon a review of the actual poem, it is easy to see the correlation between the text and the manner is which Dittersdorf has composed the second movement where he represents first the combined warmth of summer and autumn with the quick exultations of the brass. This is then followed by the chill of winter and finishes with the renewal of life in spring.

The third movement speaks to the violence of the Bronze Age. Here man has learned to be cruel and is prone to erring on the side of bad judgment. With the skipping strings throughout, there is a sense of wicked mischief. The scale lines with crescendos in the winds that occasionally interject could allude to the escalation of immoral behavior in the period. In the Iron Age, evil has finally prevailed. In the Metamorphoses, Ovid describes in detail the malevolent misdeeds of the people. That is present here in Dittersdorf’s increased use of the brass and timpani and also the increasing urgency of the rhythms in the strings. It is interesting to note that in his poem, Ovid also mentions the good and pure parts of humanity such as truth and faith departing by sea for unknown areas. Dittersdorf cleverly considers this portion of the text with his more mellow interludes in the strings that suggest the themes of the previous, less tumultuous movements.

Overall, I liked the piece. I found the whole concept and interesting and I very much liked the way Dittersdorf presented and tried to communicate the text of the poem in a purely instrumental way. I responded to the lovely bucolic feeling of the first movement and I also enjoyed the noticeable use of the timpani in the fourth movement as it provided an important contrast and increased the dramatic tension. I felt that Mr. Cross’ review of the piece was well informed and well written. For those reasons, I would really like to hear more about what he thought of the piece. He does a good job of listening to and interpreting the piece but I would be curious to see if he had any kind of reaction to the piece that was not so objective.
[i] Hesiod, “Works and Days” available from http://www.theoi.com/Text/HesiodWorksDays.html