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Vagn HOLMBOE (1909-1996)
by Darrell Ang
Northern Europe at the beginning of the century developed its very own
school of symphonic thought; represented in Finland by Sibelius, and in
Denmark by Nielsen. Carl Nielsen (1865-1931) was considered Denmark's
greatest symphonist until his untimely death; and that honour was quickly
bestowed upon his younger, ambitious and undoubtedly prolific countryman,
Vagn Holmboe.
Holmboe was born in Horsens, Danish Jutland, on 20 December 1909. He
received his musical education in the capital city of Copenhagen with Finn
Hřffding - a Vienna-trained symphonist whose works have been peculiarly
ignored - and distinguished Palestrina-scholar, Knud Jeppesen; thereafter
in Berlin with Ernest Toch. His interest in ethnomusicology led him on a
trip to Romania, where he studied and collected folk-music material and
wedded the pianist Meta Graf. It was there also that his admiration for the
music of Béla Bartók was fostered. Upon his return to Denmark, Holmboe took
on various teaching posts before a nine-year stint at the Copenhagen
Institute for the Blind; then later on accepting a Professorship at his
alma mater, the Royal Danish Academy of Music, where he was an influential
pedagogue. Apart from his didactic pursuits Holmboe also worked as music
reviewer for a local publication.
Holmboe produced an extensive portfolio of
music (among them 12 symphonies, 3 operas, 3 chamber symphonies, 13 chamber
concerti, 14 motets, a "Requiem for Nietzsche" and 20 string quartets!);
and his music is marked by a profound respect for traditional (classical)
forms, a staunch observation of strict counterpoint and a
highly-personalised mastery of instrumentation. He was never an
avant-gardist, due to his solidly conventional musical upbringing, and it
shows in his music's adherence to structure and tonality. His idiom can be
said to be fairly neo-classical, with echoes of Bartók, Hindemith and
Stravinsky.
"Unlike the variation form, the metamorphosis aims at a particular goal. It must reach completion in one way or another. Either death or eternal life, if I may put it like that. Variations alter and eventually turn around and end up where they started again. In a metamorphosis, like in sonata form, it must all lead somewhere. But I cannot accept that one is not allowed to repeat oneself, so I try to do so. This must naturally come from the material itself - it is to extend the repetition. I am tired of ideas and principles; they are the work of the Devil - they always lead to academic wickedness."
Epitaph was composed in 1954 and dedicated to the BBC Third Programme,
where it was first performed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra. It is in three
movements: Allegro con fuoco; Andante tranquillo - Piů mosso – Lento -
Andante; and Allegro con brio. A loudening trill in the violins introduces,
in the very third bar, the basic motivic material of a descending minor
second and third followed by an ascending major second accompanied by
blazing trumpets and a battery of percussion. Thereafter the motif is again
heard as a thematic subject on the strings – dark, almost war-like in its
intensity – where it is later continually transformed into various guises
and passed around the orchestra. The middle section is more subdued, but
still intense, as the motif expands further - returning in the violins'
high-register; thereafter churned by tutti-strings in the recapitulation,
punctuated by massive forces of brass and percussion. In the final passage
the music descends to a calm, where the metamorphosed motif remains a
throbbing memory in the strings.
The Hungarian's shadow looms large in the final movement, as the
main theme opens in the strings, dotted underneath by trumpets. It extends
into a gentler, lyrical section; before intensifying into passages
bombarded with snare-drum "gunfire" and brassy battle-cries, calling to
mind another composer central to the northern European composers –
Shostakovich. The trill which had opened the work now returns, arching away
into the plaintive oboe-solo from the previous movement, then languishes
into silence.
Monolith, second in the Symphonic Metamorphosis series, calls for smaller
forces than its predecessor. Bass drum and timpani beat the proceedings to
life, introducing a fragmentary motif on strings, followed by trombones.
Growling basses urge the motif to the horns and oboe, before it is taken up
elsewhere. A trumpet call signals the reappearance of the subject, this
time slightly extended, and brass chorales close the section. A solo flute
lures in a gentle motif from muted violas interrupted by pizzicati and
woodwind figures; and whispering strings heighten the suspense. The drums
burst forth again, recalling old material, this time in tutti; as the music
comes to an abrupt close.
The lengthy Epilog is, I personally feel, the least successful in the
series – the motivic developments are blatantly unsubtle, and (in its entirety)
perhaps a tad prolix; moreover, it ends contrary to the composer's own
certitude – in the initial, unchanged motif. The beginning is coloured with
a dark, Sibelian atmosphere; and the celli and basses growl the three-note
motif which recur constantly throughout. This one-movement work goes
through a series of "mood-swings", each time characterised by the motif or
its variant. The agitated sections call for violent tutti-strings and
brutal brass/percussion injectures; in their milder counterparts, woodwind
dialogues sprinkled with tinkles on tuned percussion. Near the finale is a
militaristic section preceded by a hymnic passage for strings.
Tempo variabile is perhaps the most interesting in the collection: it is in
four separate sections, linked to one another by a bridge of reiterated
notes. The pastoral first movement, Tempo incostante, starts off
impressively sforzandi; and the subdued character of the piece contains
charming woodwind chatters amid whirring strings. A warm and lyrical theme
on the viola/celli precede the bridge to Tempesta, a movement (as its
title suggests) depicting a violent storm. Here shrieking strings combine
with trumpet-blasts to evoke the tempestous mood, and chromatic
cello-figures add to its flavour.
The above notes do not describe the music alone, but also aspects of the
performance – they are what listeners can expect to hear. An additional
remark about the performances: generally quite impressive for a provincial
Danish orchestra, although nothing immediately outstanding – likewise the
interpretation. Their current principal conductor, Welshman Owain Arwel
Hughes, prefers suppleness; although, in my humble opinion, I think there
is too much flexibility here.
This is my first first acquaintance with
Holmboe's music; and therefore cannot yet sum up his merits as a composer;
or whether this disc would serve as a reliable introduction to his music.
My impression hereafter of Holmboe's style, is an unhappy mix of Bartók,
Shostakovich and the neo-classicists. Perhaps some of his symphonies would
fare better for the beginner – but that's another story.
Darrell Ang is convinced that Denmark is synonymous with butter-cookies
and babes!
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